Cracks in Reality (Seams in Reality Book 2) (29 page)

"Where is the biological weapons stash supposed to be?" Andrew said.

He leaned around a partition to see what Charley was doing. News reports from many different web sites were on her computer screen.

"Someplace called
Montaña de la Serpiente
," she said. "It's supposedly a mountain in the northern part of the base."

"Hey, Tungsten, you ever heard of it?"

"Nope." Tungsten shook his head. "But there are lots of mountains around there, and most have Spanish names."

Andrew used mapping websites to search for the name, but he got no hits.

"I'm coming up empty here," he said. "Charley, what else do you got?"

"The story about biological weapons is all over the internet," Charley said, "but it's the same everywhere. Just rumors. No witnesses. No hard facts. Nothing we can check out."

"I told you," Tungsten said.

"Wait, I found the coordinates of the mountain."

She read off a longitude and latitude, and Andrew typed them into his computer. An image of landscape popped up, but it was empty. He didn't even see a hill, much less a mountain.

"Are you sure that's right?" Andrew said. "It's blank."

Charley confirmed the coordinates.

"That's what you get for using public satellite images," Tungsten said. "They always erase secret government facilities. We don't want our enemies taking a peek."

"So the mountain could be here?" Andrew said.

"It's possible, or maybe it really is nothing. I don't know. I never worked in that part of the base."

Andrew sat back on his hard chair feeling frustrated.

An idea suddenly occurred to him.

"
Montaña de la Serpiente
might be the location of the Vault," he said. "That would explain why Webster is so twitchy."

Charley turned to him with wide eyes. "You could be right. We know the Army is guarding the Vault, and that location is very secure."

"What's the Vault?" Tungsten said.

"You don't know?" Andrew said. "The BPI didn't explain it during your briefing?"

"Apparently, not."

"You know what a portable seam is, right?"

"Sure," Tungsten said. "Blake has one."

"The BPI doesn't like them. They make sorcerers too powerful, and you get problems like Blake. So, the BPI locked all the portable seams it could find in a top secret location."

"Makes perfect sense."

"But the Vault has more than just seams in it," Andrew said. "There is a whole library of forbidden books. The BPI tries to control sorcerers by taking away our knowledge. Journals, diaries, notebooks, and historic artifacts are in the Vault. We're not supposed to know the location for obvious reasons." He looked at the blank spot on the map. "My grandfather's journals are there."

"He was a sorcerer?"

"A very powerful one, and he performed daring experiments. He was on the cutting edge of sorcery. He actually worked with Blake's father. They died together during an experiment."

Tungsten looked down. "I'm sorry."

"I never met my grandfather," Andrew said, "but I've heard stories. Anyway, if
Montaña de la Serpiente
is the Vault, the BPI would be very nervous about any kind of publicity. The stuff in there is even more dangerous than biological weapons."

"Sounds like Blake would love to get inside."

"Exactly. Any sorcerer would."

"Hold on," Charley said. "You're jumping to a lot of conclusions. Raiding the Vault sounds too ambitious even for Blake. I'm sure the security there is insane. It was designed to keep out hostile sorcerers. And how would Blake even know the location? How does bad publicity help his cause?"

Nobody had a ready answer.

Andrew looked over his shoulder to make sure nobody else in the store could overhear the conversation. A woman was looking at shelves full of bottles of glue and tape rolls, but she was far away. A clerk in a white and blue uniform was reloading the paper trays in the copiers.

"I have a question," Tungsten said. "How did you know the Army is guarding the Vault?"

"When we were at the survivalist camp," Andrew said, "an armored truck brought a portable seam to us. Army soldiers were guarding it."

"What camp? Tell me the whole story."

"Sure. It started when Serkan disappeared. He was Keene's apprentice. Charley and I were told to look for Serkan."

"Why you?" Tungsten said.

"Mostly because we were available, I think. We ran into dead ends until we were called away to investigate a banshee attack."

"It was bad," Charley said. "Dozens of victims, most killed and the rest were rendered insane. We found Serkan among the dead. He created the banshee using a seam the BPI didn't know about."

Tungsten grimaced. "Sounds like he got what he deserved."

"No." Andrew shook his head. "Blake was responsible. He had used mind-control on Serkan, but we didn't figure that out until much later. We knew something was fishy though, and Tonya led an investigation. Blake came with us."

"What?" Tungsten stared.

"He claimed he wanted to be helpful, but he was actually making sure the investigation reached the conclusion he intended."

"Which was what?"

"When an apprentice breaks the law," Andrew said, "the master is partially responsible. Blake wanted Keene to go to prison for Serkan's crimes."

"That doesn't sound fair."

Andrew shrugged. "It's the rule. While under Blake's control, Serkan created a trail of clues which we followed after his death. The biggest clue was a journal written by a sorcerer and discovered by a soldier in World War I."

"You found the journal?" Tungsten said.

"Yes, but it was written by Serkan. It was fake. All the evidence was fake."

"Serkan built a case against his own master and then killed himself in a horrible way?"

"That's the power of mind-control," Andrew said. "Blake was with us the whole time. Whenever the investigation got stuck, he gave us a subtle hint to get it moving again. The clues led us to an underground base in the woods where a bunch of survivalists lived. We met Phillip there. That must be where Blake learned about him."

"The base was well defended," Charley interjected. "Tonya used a portable seam to get inside without a shot being fired. She saved a lot of lives."

"How exactly did she do that?" Tungsten said.

"A little bit of mind-control."

"But everybody keeps saying that's illegal."

"Special circumstances," she said.

He stared at her, and she blushed.

"The point is," Andrew said, "soldiers brought the seam in an armored truck. They were obviously from the Army. Now I believe they came from Mumford."

"I see." Tungsten said. "By the way, what was Blake doing while Tonya was using illegal mind-control?"

"He stayed in the car. She didn't want him anywhere near the seam."

"Unsupervised?"

Andrew nodded. "We had the seam. He couldn't do anything."

"How far was the car from the truck?"

"What are you getting at? Soldiers were guarding the truck."

"Not all the time." Charley stared at Andrew. "Remember? We heard about it afterwards. Shots were fired at the car, and the soldiers went into the woods, but they never found the shooter."

"So," Tungsten said, "Blake had free access to the armored truck for a period of time, and where did it go after the operation?"

"It took the seam back to Mumford," she said in a tone of horror, "back to
Montaña de la Serpiente
."

Andrew felt rising anger. "That bastard planted a tracking device or something!" He looked around for witnesses and lowered his voice. "The business with Serkan wasn't about Keene at all. He just wanted us to think that. His goal from the beginning was locating the Vault."

"A plan within a plan," Charley said. "A trick within a trick. Brilliant."

"That's how an operative thinks," Tungsten said.

"No, that's how a magician thinks. I was wrong about Blake. Obviously, he's ambitious enough to go after the Vault, but I still don't understand the bad publicity about biological weapons."

"That part is obvious. As you said, the security around the Vault must be extremely intense. Blake won't be able to get inside even with all his tricks. They're prepared for threats like him."

Andrew picked up the thought. "But if there is enough public scrutiny, the government might be forced to move the contents of the Vault somewhere else."

"Exactly." Tungsten nodded. "And that kind of move will necessarily be very risky. It's the opportunity Blake needs. He can ambush the convoy. Webster must suspect Blake is the source of the rumors for exactly this reason, which is why Webster called us into his office. It all makes sense."

Andrew sat back in awe. Blake's plan was breathtaking in scope and creativity. At every step, his enemies had misunderstood his intentions. Andrew wondered if he were even capable of such meticulous, insightful planning.

"We can't tell anybody," Charley said.

"Huh?" Andrew turned to her. "Why not?"

"You heard Webster. We know where the Vault is. If he finds out we know, we'll go to prison. We're as dangerous to the BPI as Blake, and in your case, maybe even more dangerous. You're a war mage."

"But we can tell Tonya."

She shook her head. "Not unless we must. I don't want to put her in the same danger as us. It's bad enough Tungsten knows."

"And if I were a BPI agent," Tungsten said, "I'd have to report you. It's a good thing I'm just a contractor and technically a civilian."

Andrew breathed a sigh of relief.

"It's all up to us," Charley said. "We have to stop Blake by ourselves."

"Not quite," Tungsten said. "The government will investigate the rumors and try to find the source. I expect the NSA is already on it, but Blake won't make it easy for them."

"So what should we do?"

"The same. Just because the NSA is working a case doesn't mean we can't."

"But chasing down the source of internet gossip is a job for hackers," Andrew said.

"That's certainly the right place to start." Tungsten paused. "It might be time for me to call in an old favor or two."

"You know a hacker?"

"When you've been around the world as many times as me, you meet all kinds." Tungsten smirked. "I know just the guy."

* * *

Tungsten parked the car in front of a two-story shopping center. An exterior breezeway provided access to the second floor. Andrew saw a sports supply shop, a dance studio, a drycleaner, a tax preparer, and a bar among other stores, about twenty in total. The building was made of clean red brick.

Tungsten, Andrew, and Charley got out of the car. The air had warmed a little, and Andrew left his coat unzipped.

"Which one?" he said.

"There," Tungsten replied. He pointed at a place called, "Slippery Weasel Tavern."

"Funny name."

"It's a joke, but most people won't get it."

Tungsten led Andrew and Charley inside.

The tavern featured a huge bar made of elaborately carved wood which was big enough for twenty customers. An abundance of small, round tables had high chairs. The lighting fixtures looked like antique gas lamps. Andrew expected a television for watching sports, but he didn't see one in this place. The room was quiet. Only two people were at the bar, and another two were at a table, but Andrew expected the light crowd was due to the early hour.

The bartender was wearing a black vest, a white shirt, and a black tie. He was tall and gaunt. Thick stubble on his chin and cheeks contrasted with an almost bald scalp. The dark color of his skin and the shape of his eyes suggested a mixture of African and Oriental heritage.

He stared at Tungsten with a shocked expression. "Tungsten? Is that you?"

Tungsten grinned. "Yeah. Long time no see."

The bartender ran out from behind the bar and gave Tungsten a manly hug. The two men then shook hands vigorously.

"This is Weasel," Tungsten said, "a buddy from
way
back. My young friends are Andrew and Charley."

"Nice to meet you." Andrew shook Weasel's hand.

Charley did the same.

Tungsten looked around. "Cool place."

"Thanks," Weasel said. "It's my retirement home. Hey, you look great! You could pose for a muscle magazine. You still pulling cars with your teeth to impress the girls?"

"No. My dentist told me to stop. I don't think it ever worked anyway."

"It's strange seeing you out of uniform. That cheap blue suit makes you look like a fed."

"I am a fed," Tungsten said, "sort of. I'm a contractor."

Weasel's eyes widened. "Huh? You're working for a paycheck now? That's hard to believe. You were always so gung-ho about duty and honor. You told me you would've been a soldier for free. You also told me you would retire to a beach in Jamaica when you were done with the Army."

"I tried that beach for a while. It was boring. I needed some action, but I didn't want another long-term commitment, so I took a one-shot job."

"With who?"

"An unnamed federal agency," Tungsten said.

"Go ahead and be mysterious if you want. Who are your friends?" Weasel looked at Andrew and Charley.

"Same federal agency."

"They're feds, too?" Weasel gaped. "They don't look it. Too young."

"They have special skills.
Very
special."

"I guess they must."

"Speaking of retirement," Tungsten said. "I never pictured you as a bartender."

"It's an easy gig. All I have to do is pour drinks and listen to guys complain about wives and sports teams. I can sleep without worrying about waking up in the trunk of a car."

"I can't believe you don't still dabble in your old business."

"Well..." Weasel looked away innocently.

"Coincidently, I'm looking for an expert in your old business."

"I already guessed this visit wasn't purely social."

"It never is," Tungsten said, "and you do still owe me for saving your life."

"Among other things." Weasel sighed. "Let's continue this conversation in the privacy of my office."

He asked a waitress to watch the bar for a while. He took Tungsten, Andrew, and Charley to a small office in the back. It contained an antique wooden desk, padded chairs, and two file cabinets. The walls were painted an unusual burgundy. Loose paperwork was scattered across the desk. Weasel had a small computer, but Andrew could tell it was woefully obsolete, certainly not one he would expect for an expert hacker.