He's A Magic Man (The Children of Merlin) (39 page)

“Sounds like a high rise on Lakeshore or Michigan. Financial district, or the Loop?”

“Can’t tell from here. I’m not that familiar with the city. I need to get closer.”

“No problem there,” Brian said grimly. “We’re going to get right up their
asses
.”

*****

Drew sat in her ridiculous dress under the glass ceiling. The afternoon was waning into an evening Drew was dreading. Rhiannon had the master bedroom rigged out like a hospital room, in preparation for Morgan. They didn’t think they’d need the respirator, once they gave her the Talisman Sword. Apparently it was going to heal her. Drew believed it.

The elevator dinged. Drew wasn’t afraid of it now. Her visions had both taken place at night. Striker and Lev strode out of the elevator, looking disgusted.

“What?” Rhiannon challenged, rising. “Where is she?”

“Couldn’t get her,” Lev said shortly. “Had to send the transport back empty.”

“What do you mean, you couldn’t get her?”

“She has to sign herself out AMA,” Striker tried to explain.

“So? She’ll do that.”

“She can’t,” Lev snapped. “She’s not conscious anymore.” He looked a little white around the gills. “She’s … uh … kinda decomposing.”

“Jason. He probably has power of attorney.” Rhiannon’s voice had a note of desperation.

“Apparently she doesn’t trust Jason. Nobody has power of attorney. No relatives listed. We’re fucked.”

“Damn Jason. He should have told them he was her son.”

Nobody said anything. Drew was just fine with Morgan dying. But unless her vision lied, Morgan was going to get the sword, and it was going to heal her. Finally, Lev said, “Out of choices. We go in, take out the security and get her out of there.”

“Really bright,” Rhiannon spat. “Can’t do the ceremony at the hospital with everyone after us. It takes some time. Even if she doesn’t die when we pull her off the respirator, and we get her to the ambulance, we got the police chasing us, and we’re all over the news. She wants secrecy above all. There’s got to be a way to get her out legitimately.”

“I bet she’s not wild about kicking the bucket,” Lev muttered.

But Rhiannon was deep in thought. “Okay,” she said. “I need ID. I’m her daughter. I’ve been in Bangladesh or somewhere.”

Lev flipped out his phone. “On it. You’ll need a passport with a date of entry and a birth certificate. It’ll take until tomorrow though.”

“We don’t have until tomorrow,” Rhiannon yelled. “Get it tonight. And Striker, go steal me an ambulance with a respirator.”

Lev raised his brows then glanced away. “Yeah. Saul. Lev here. Need a favor.”

Drew stopped listening. Relief along with fear wound themselves around Drew’s spine, competing for attention. She tried to keep her face immobile.

She could feel Michael. Wonderful.
But
so
not good.
He’d be heading into this hornets’ nest of guns and camouflage. And the odds were not good.

*****

Michael had already admitted Brian was masterful. But he admired Kemble, too. The guy had used an
iPad
his mother brought with her to cross-reference local gun dealers with firearms violations. He found someone who would sell them guns without the required waiting period.
Or identification for that matter.
Might not be magic, but it sure was impressive. Tris took a Colt revolver. Old school but reliable. Michael took a Smith and Wesson Sigma 9 mm semi-automatic. Kemble chose a
Glock
9 mm, but Michael would forgive him for that. Brian said he’d take whatever. He ended up with a nice little .357 Smith and Wesson 686 Plus revolver. Michael stuffed extra ammo in their bags all around and they were set.

Now, as dusk settled into the canyons of downtown Chicago, they were driving a used car Kemble bought with cash, so it would be untraceable in case they were caught wreaking mayhem on Rhiannon and company. Brina had come way prepared in that department. After Michael determined Drew was in the Loop, they dropped Brina at the Palmer House to book some rooms. Michael was getting a little crazy. He had to remain focused on the mission. But he could feel Drew and the feeling was getting sharper.

As they pulled away from the hotel, Brian turned in his seat. “Do your thing, Dowser.”

Tris was driving. Kemble sat beside Michael in the back seat with his
iPad
. Michael thought about Drew and his power sprang into action. The grid popped up, though his eyes weren’t closed. Now he just had to keep himself open, and he could give directions. “Left at the next intersection. Get over to Michigan. Then turn right on Michigan.”

Tris grunted assent and elbowed his way into the left lane, honks trailing in their wake. He swung on to Michigan. “Now what?”

“Keep going. It’s on the right….” One light. Light two approaching. “Stop,” he barked.

Tires squealed as Tris pulled over in a red zone near the corner. Michael peered upward. “It’s that one, across the street.” Kemble got busy tapping on his tablet.

The building was old but well kept, not as tall as its neighbors. “Britannica Building,” Brian muttered.

“She’s way high,” Michael said. “Penthouse maybe?”

“Figures,” Brian said. “Only the best for the Clan.”

“They call it the Metropolitan now,” Kemble said. “Somebody bought it and turned it into condos. Parking entry is on Jackson.”

Tris wheeled into action as Kemble tapped frantically on the tablet. Tris turned into the gated entry. It was closed. The keypad took a code or a card only. “Now what?”

“Gimme … one … more …
second.…”
Kemble’s fingers flitted over the keyboard. “Okay. Six-seven-eight-five-two.” Tris got busy with the keypad.

“Good going, son,” Brian said as the gate began to rise.

“What, you hacked their system from an
iPad
in about two minutes?”

“No.
Too much protection.
I found a guy who lives here and hacked his system. Everyone keeps their security codes and passwords in their address book.” Michael made a mental note never to try to hide anything from Kemble.

Tris wheeled smoothly down into the garage, tires squealing softly on the cement.

“Penthouse has its own elevator,” Kemble noted.

“There.” Brian pointed. Tris pulled up in front of the doors.

“There will be a code for the elevator too,” Michael pointed out. As Kemble shrugged dismissal, Michael said, “Just so you know.”

“They’ll know someone’s in the elevator,” Tris warned. “They’ll be prepared. We don’t know how many have powers or what they are.”

“Can’t be helped,” Brian said.

“She didn’t have others with magic when we were down in the Caribbean,” Michael said. “Just muscle for hire.”

“We could create a distraction,” Kemble said. “Fire alarm or something.”

“That would bring down Chicago’s finest and a whole lot of firemen,” Brian noted. “Not sure we want to do that.”

“Well, somebody’s going to hear shots,” Tris said. Tris seemed like the practical one.

“I’m hoping by the time anyone can react, we’ll have Drew and be away.” Brian turned to Michael. “You have the only battle experience in the group, Dowser. What do you think?”

Michael shook his head. “Elevator is the only way in. They’ll have the stairs booby-trapped. Anyway you figure it, we’ve just got to gut it out.” He bit his lip. This wasn’t going to be pretty. But he could feel Drew above him. She was like a magnet pulling him in. No way he wasn’t going up there. “So here’s what we do. Who’s the best shot?”

“That would be me,” Brian said, almost sheepish. “Adapter, you know.”

His sons nodded, a little disgusted, whether with him or themselves, Michael couldn’t tell. “Okay then. Once we get into the elevator Tris, you and Kemble take cover on each side of the doors. Brian, you kneel and start taking them out methodically, but as quickly as you can.”

Tris glowered at Michael. “No way. Senior will take the brunt of their fire when they figure out what’s going on.”

“You and Kemble are going to lay down a barrage of cover fire,” Michael said. “Of course I hope you hit a few, but your job is to keep their heads down. That will protect Brian. And I’m going to sprint out, firing, as the doors open and distract everyone.”

That silenced them for a minute. It was a suicide play for Michael and they all knew it.

Brian heaved a sigh. “I see no better plan.” He looked to each of his sons in turn. They glanced to Michael. Then Tris punched the elevator call button.

The doors opened. They stood back and let Michael go first. Perks of the doomed, he guessed. He looked around. “No camera.”

The doors closed. The elevator only went to one place. A speaker, an emergency button, and a keypad were the only elements on the console.

Kemble said, “Give me a minute here. This one is harder.” He fumbled for what seemed like ten minutes at his tablet. “Got it,” he said finally. “Try six-seven-four-two-eight-nine.”

Tris punched the buttons. The car started to move up the floors, gathering speed. Kemble tucked his
iPad
into his belt at the small of his back. Too bad he didn’t have a holster.

The elevator lurched to a stop. The speaker popped once. “Welcome, boys.” Michael would know that voice anywhere. Rhiannon.

“Damn,” Kemble said, looking around frantically. “There.” A tiny pinhole was concealed in the gap between the wall and ceiling paneling.

“Sorry, missed it,” Michael muttered. Not holding up his end here.

Tris just took the handle of his Colt and smashed the thing.

“See you soon,” the cheerful voice said.

“Guess they’ll be prepared,” Kemble said. “We’re sitting ducks.”

Tris searched the elevator. “Not if they’re on the way down here and we do an end-around play.” He reached, but couldn’t quite touch an entry panel in the ceiling. “Boost?”

Kemble bent and cupped his hands. When his brother placed one worn Adidas
in his palms, Kemble shoved him up. Tris lifted the panel aside and pushed his shoulders through.

“There’s no.…” Michael was about to say “power to the elevator,” but then he realized what Tris proposed doing. Could he do that?

“Long way to the motor.” Kemble echoed Michael’s doubts. “Farther to the ground.”

“Yeah,” Tris agreed. “But I’ve been getting better at this. I don’t need direct contact.”

Brian raised his brows. He hadn’t known that about his second son.

Tris crouched on the top of the car then stood. Michael could see him take the big cables, one in each hand. The crew from the penthouse was probably racing down the stairs. How long would that take? Tris began to tremble, his big body shaking with the intensity.

The cab began to tremble, too.

“Brace
yourselves
,” Brian warned, a grin beginning to light his face. Michael and Kemble had just backed into opposite corners when the cab shot upward. Michael’s stomach hovered somewhere around his ankles.

They clanged to a stop as Tris flattened on top of the cab and the elevator hit the bumper above his head.

“You okay?” Brian called softly.

Tris dropped into the car, looking a little pale. He shrugged and grinned. “That was a near thing. Learn something new every day.”

*****

Drew’s heart was in her throat. She’d always thought that was a stupid saying. But something was sure making it impossible to swallow or breathe. Even from over at the table, she had seen the video monitor. Rhiannon had run over there when the ding announced that the elevator was in use. It was Michael, of course. She’d been feeling him getting closer for the last several hours. But the image showed her Tris and Kemble and her father, too.

It was almost dark out now. The beacon cycled on and bathed the penthouse in blue light. People she loved were coming up in the elevator. Her vision was coming true. She knew now that in her vision, she had not been afraid
of
something menacing coming out of the elevator doors. She had been afraid
for
those she loved most and what would happen when they emerged.

Even now, around the room, men had risen. Guns were out. What could she do?

“We’ll be right down,” Rhiannon said as the screen went blank. “Tremaines, and the Finder. They must have been on the boat with dear Coed here. Finder led them here.” She turned to Lev. “You’re up, hon.
We
are about to hit a Tremaine jackpot.
Whoo-hoo
.”

Lev looked around and counted men. “They have powers?”

Rhiannon frowned. She took his question as a challenge. “Father is an Adapter.”

“And that means?”

“He’s good at things. Big deal. Jason says one of the sons can power motors. Does that make little Lev quake in his boots?”