Light in the Barren Lands: Travail of The Dark Mage Book One (37 page)

To the agent running the video playback, Agent Randle said, “Take us to where they emerged from the building.”

“Now, when they came out of the building, one of our guys hit them with a rocket.” As the video began to play and the two terrorists emerged from the building, there was a big explosion. “Pause it!” Then…”Take it back to just before the explosion.” To Mr. Barnes he said, “Watch.”

The Task Force leader watched closely as the image progressed at a snail’s pace.

Agent Randle directed Mr. Barnes’ attention to the lead terrorist’s feet. “Now look what happens when the rocket hits.”
Explosion.
“The guy is knocked back a step.”

“So?”

“It means, that if we hit this protective shield with a large enough bomb, the resulting concussion wave will severely hurt, or even kill, those inside.”

“Fighter jets are standing by at Nellis,” another agent added. “They’ve got those bunker buster bombs like they hit Saddam with loaded and ready to go.”

Mr. Barnes looked to Agent Randle.

“We hit them with those,” Agent Randle stated, “and it’s over. Shield or no shield, the concussion from the explosion will finish them.”

“All right. Now all we have to do is find them.” Having lost them in that freak sandstorm that blacked out the city, they had distributed the terrorist’s pictures to every law enforcement agency in the state. The city was being combed, but it was believed the terrorists had already high-tailed it out of there. Turning his attention to the map of the surrounding area, Mr. Barnes began coordinating with the locals to set up roadblocks and have men watching other sites of transport such as bus stations and train depots. He silently vowed to himself that these terrorists wouldn’t live another day.

Officer Grady sat in his car on Hwy 95 south of Las Vegas. Radar gun tracking the cars passing by, his attention was firmly fixed on the chatter coming over the radio. Something big had just gone down in Vegas, though from the contradictory reports passing back and forth, it was hard for him to figure out exactly what was going on.

Last night there came a report that one of the terrorists was apprehended. This morning the second had been sighted. Then all hell had broken loose. Something happened that Officer Grady was still trying to piece together. He knew better than to try and call for more information, and unless it was an emergency that he contact someone, it would be best for him to leave the air open for those who needed it.

What he had learned by listening to the chatter was barely believable. First, the second terrorist had arrived at FBI headquarters no less, then blew it up and a good portion of the neighboring buildings if what he was hearing was to be believed. Then he and his buddy had merely walked away under the cover of a freak sandstorm that the weather service had no foreknowledge of? A hundred agents and officers had swarmed the area, but apparently no sign of the fugitives had yet to be uncovered. Another hour and he’d be off. Then, maybe he would be able to sort truth from fiction.

On his dashboard were the pictures of the two terrorists currently disrupting the lives of so many. They looked ordinary enough, but that was what terrorists liked to do, blend in until it was too late. He also had a make of the car they stole in Reno and had been using since. The latest reports coming through claimed the car had disappeared from the impound lot, most likely by the terrorists themselves. Though why take a car everyone knew to look for was a question Officer Grady couldn’t answer. It seemed rather stupid on their part. Why didn’t they just steal another?

Perhaps there was something secreted within the body that they needed? Some component required for their dastardly plans? Possible scenarios played through his mind as he considered the terrorists’ next move.

Suddenly, a car shot past. A glance to the radar gun revealed the car was doing 102 MPH, far above the posted speed limit. All thoughts of the terrorists were put out of his mind as he hit the siren and began pursuit.

“Man, he’s going fast,” he mumbled to himself. Then he got a good look at the car as he closed the distance. It was the same make and model as the terrorists’ vehicle. Could it be? Excited that he may be the one to have found them, he floored it to narrow the gap even more so he could read the license plate.

If he was in hot pursuit of the terrorists, that would look good on his service record. Thinking about the bragging rights such a collar would entail, he finally closed enough to read the license plate. It was a match! He had found the terrorists.

But he had to make sure it was them. There were definitely two individuals in the car ahead of him, one driving and the other looking back through the rear window toward him. Their eyes met and he recognized the man as one of the terrorists.

“Officer Grady to Dispatch, I’ve found the terrorists.”

The door to the conference room flew open. “The terrorists have been spotted, southbound on Hwy 95.”

“What?” exclaimed Mr. Barnes. “Do we have positive ID?”

“Yes, sir,” the agent replied. “An officer made a positive, visual identification. It’s them.”

“About time.” To Agent Randle he said, “Contact Nellis. Tell them to scramble the fighters.”

“Yes, sir.”

“We’ll get them this time.”

“Back off? What do you mean back off? I’ve got them right in front of me!”

“You are ordered to back off,” Dispatch reiterated. “The military is taking over.”

“It’s my collar damn it!” Officer Grady did not like the idea of allowing another to get the credit for taking out the terrorists.

“If you do not back off, Officer, you will be placing yourself at risk.”

About that time, the roar of two fighters drew his attention to the approaching jets. He slammed on the brakes when he saw a rocket launched from one. As his car skidded to a stop, the rocket impacted with the car before him. Unbelievably, when the smoke cleared, the car could still be seen racing along the highway. Where the rocket had exploded was now a sizeable hole spanning the highway.

Officer Grady cursed the jets as they and the terrorists quickly vanished out of sight.

“Push it!”
yelled the newsman.

The chopper was soaring through the air as fast as a helicopter could go. A short time ago word came that the terrorists had been sighted and that fighters were en route to intercept.

“If we don’t get there in time, we’ll miss it!” the newsman shouted.

They were the only news chopper in the area. If they could get there in time, they may have an exclusive.

“There are the fighters,” the pilot said, directing the newsman’s attention to the west.

In the back of the chopper was the cameraman who soon had the jets in view. “Got them.”

Into the microphone, the newsman hollered, “Are we live?”

From his headset he heard, “Going live in, three…two…one.”

“This is News Chopper Five bringing you the final showdown between the Haveston Terrorists and the military. Fighters from Nellis have been scrambled and are on an intercept course with the…”

A rocket shot from the lead plane and exploded on the highway.

“Ho! My god did you see that? A rocket was fired and it looks as if it missed the car and carved a big chunk out of the highway.” Pressing the mute button, he said to his cameraman, “Do you have the car?”

“Oh, yeah. I got it.”

The newsman alternated from watching the jets in the air and the car on the ground. A video display also allowed him to see which scene the camera was picking up. He began a constant commentary as each jet fired another rocket toward the fleeing car.

Wham! Wham!

Twin explosions, micro-seconds apart, knocked the car off the highway but somehow it remained on all four tires and managed to return to the road. All its windows were shattered and the outer body was severely damaged, yet still they continued.

Then the newsman saw the bomb attached beneath one jet come loose. He held his breath as it fell earthward. Tracking the moving vehicle, the bomb altered its trajectory to compensate.

Whump!

A massive explosion ripped apart the highway and a fireball rose to the air.

“There ain’t no way they survived that!” exclaimed the cameraman.

Then a flash of blinding white light lit up the desert followed immediately by a blast of immense proportions. Those in the chopper had only a moment to register the approaching danger before being slammed by a shockwave.

The newsman screamed, the pilot yelled they were going down and the video feed ended.

“There, that should do it.”

Jiron nodded.

Hands, shaky with exhaustion, laid the mirror upon the seat. James was on the verge of blacking out. Such an expenditure of magic he hadn’t undergone since the war.

“Over the top?” asked Jiron.

James nodded. “Yeah. Give me a minute and we’ll get on our way.”

“Are you okay, Uncle James?”

“Yes, Jira. I’m just very, very tired.”

Jiron turned to his daughter who sat in the back seat of the small Civic, a car purchased from a used car dealer on the outskirts of Las Vegas before the incident at the FBI building. “Don’t worry, he’ll be all right.”

She looked questioningly at her uncle but said, “If you say so, father.”

After the debacle at the FBI building, James had concluded that the only way to remain unbothered by the authorities, was if they thought them dead. So with magic, he created the illusion of the three of them in the car and its subsequent destruction. The atom-bomb like explosion at the end had been an illusion as well, one which he hoped would convince Agent Randle and the others that their “bomb” had gone off prematurely.

Currently, they were parked in a parking lot in front of a 7-11 in Henderson. James rested for another few minutes, just long enough for the dots to stop dancing before his eyes and for his head to no longer feel so foggy. Then he started the car and headed east out of town for I-15 and Los Angeles.

Agent Randle looked at the screen with regret. This was not how he had wanted it to end. He wished for a much more “hands on” ending for the person who ended Seth’s life. From what his drunk of a brother said, the terrorist had all but admitted his part in it.

A hand slapped him on the back and he looked up to find Mr. Barnes grinning. “We did it,” said the Task Force Chief.

“Yes, we did.”

“Good thing their bomb went off where it did, away from any population centers. A blast like that could have killed hundreds of thousands if placed in the right spot.”

“I’m sure that had been the plan,” agreed Agent Randle. “But we stopped them.”

“Sure enough did.”

Another agent came forward. “Sir, satellite imagery reveals nothing moving. Whatever shield they employed earlier didn’t save them.”

“Good. Get the cleanup crews out there and see what they can find.”

“Yes, sir,” the agent replied.

“Mark one more off for the good guy’s, Randle.”

Showing a grin he didn’t feel, Agent Randle replied, “Yes, sir.” Then as Mr. Barnes moved off to confer with another member of the Task Force, Agent Randle turned his attention back to the screen showing the devastated area of Hwy 95. He was just musing how the highway would probably be shut down for the next year when his phone buzzed. Taking it out of his pocket, he saw that it was his brother.

“Yeah?” he answered.

“Quite a show, wouldn’t you say?” his brother asked.

“I suppose so. The news crews are going to have plenty of footage to last them a month. What do you want?” He still hadn’t quite gotten over the fact his brother had allowed Seth’s killer to up and escape.

“Will the Task Force be dissolved now that everyone believes the terrorists to be dead?”

“I would think so…,” then the words of his brother registered. “What do you mean,
now that everyone
believes
the terrorists to be dead
?”

“Well, it just so happens, I’m on their tail right now.”

Despondency vanishing in an instant, Agent Randle sat up on the edge of his seat. “You’re not drunk are you?”

“Is that any way to talk to your only brother? But no, I’m not drunk. Haven’t had a drop since the guy flew the coop.”

“Where are they?”

“I-15. It would seem they are heading for L.A.”

Agent Randle glanced around the room to see if anyone might have overheard. When it appeared none had, he lowered his voice even further. “They haven’t made you yet?”

“Doesn’t look like it. They’re keeping at the speed limit and make no signs they are aware of pursuit. Are you going to tell your buddies?”

There was a moment of silence before his brother replied, “No.”

“Good. We need to be the ones to take care of them. For Seth.”

“For Seth,” agreed Agent Randle. “Keep on them and I’ll get out to L.A. as quickly as I can. I’ll call you in two hours, but if their destination changes, don’t wait.”

“I won’t.”

As much as it pained him to say it, he said, “Good work, brother.”

“I’ll see you in L.A.”

Cardri had been big. The City of Light before the war had been huge. But nothing could have prepared Jiron for the sprawling mass of humanity that was Los Angeles. When James told him it held over nine million, he could hardly believe it. The entire population of Madoc was less than a tenth that size. And here they were all contained in one place? Incredible!

With congestion in the L.A. area being what it was, it took nearly two hours from the time they entered the Greater Los Angeles area until they reached the sign indicating the first of many exits
 
to Disneyland.

Taking the first off-ramp, James followed the signs until the top of the Matterhorn appeared. “There it is,” he said, as the road brought them closer. Jiron and Jira stared out the window at the sights.

“Children from all over the world dream of coming here,” he explained. “I was lucky enough to grow up only a few hundred miles north. Some have to travel halfway around the world.”