Orders of Magnitude (The Genie and the Engineer Series Book 2) (5 page)

“I’m not hungry,” she declared stubbornly. “And this will
take too long.”

“Not in this place,” Paul said. “Come, I need your
imagination and your brainpower. I want to save your father and we need a good
plan to do that.”

She reluctantly nodded and walked in.

They took a small table in the back corner of the place. A
young, fairly pretty girl took their order. Well, Paul’s order. Capie only
wanted a glass of ice water.

“Uncle Sam?” Paul asked, as the waitress left. The tall
tactician materialized in the seat next to him and gave a brief nod.

“Capie, we will need Tia too, please.”

“Fine.” With a sullen wave of Capie’s hand, the Queen of the
Fairies appeared, in the seat across from Uncle Sam.

“Now,” Paul said, leaning forward, forming a steeple with
his hands. “We need a plan of attack.”

• • • •

“It might just work,” admitted Juan Mendoza as he leaned
back in his chair, rubbing the stubble on his chin while he studied the Bernard
A. Mitchell Hospital floor plans in the holographic display in front of him.
“If you can find the smoke bombs.”

“And the airsoft guns, man,” added Neal, seated next to him.

“Most sporting goods stores have some decent guns,” Matt
Hutchens said with an affirmative nod. “And you can get smoke bombs in
fireworks stores over in Indiana.”

Juan was now shaking his head slightly. “Even with the guns,
amigo, you gotta keep your distance. Your amulets against their talismans…you gotta
do the mongoose dance.”

“That means duck and avoid,” Neal explained.

The impromptu planning session had grown, now including the
waitress Chloe, the cook Neal and two hastily called friends, Juan and Matt. The
latter two were airsoft enthusiasts, considered to be something of local
experts on tactics and equipment. Another pretty girl, Kyra, Matt’s girlfriend,
had tagged along. All of them looked like kids to Paul, either high school
students or college freshmen.

Paul grinned. It had started innocently enough, when Chloe had
brought back his burger, fries and drinks, then asking if Tia or Uncle Sam had
wanted anything. Capie had responded with a curt sarcastic retort that both
were magical holograms and not real people and therefore didn’t need to either
eat or drink.

The situation had snowballed from there, practically
developing a life of its own. They might have looked like kids but all of these
young adults had sharp minds and had quickly accepted the reality of magical
powers and, more important, the dire situation that Capie’s father was in. More
than that, they interacted with Tia and Uncle Sam on a near instinctual level,
adding valuable suggestive and creative ideas. Paul was highly impressed and
wondered if maybe they wouldn’t make better wizards than he himself. It was
something to contemplate in the future.

“You should have the element of surprise,” Matt said. “The
professor’s stroke hasn’t been in the news yet so they don’t know that you
know.”

“And,” Kyra said, smiling and looking at Capie, “they don’t
know that you are a wizard too.”

“They don’t even know that she isn’t in a wheelchair
anymore,” Neal pointed out.

Paul checked his watch again. Although the interchange had
been extremely productive, it had also consumed more than an hour and a half of
their time. If their plan had any chance of success, they needed to get moving.

“I can’t tell you how much this has helped,” Paul confided
with a grin. “Many thanks to all your suggestions. And this plan.”

Even Tia smiled. “Yes, you’ve given us some excellent ideas.
They will be of tremendous help.”

Kyra giggled and the others beamed proudly. “We wish we
could go with you.”

Capie smiled and shook her head sadly. “You have a different
path to follow. Paul, we need to go. We have a lot of shopping to do and not
much time.”

Paul took out his wallet and counted out several hundred
dollar bills.

“Hey, dude, the cash ain’t necessary,” said Juan, with a
scowl. “This was sweet. Too bad we can’t tell anyone, cause they wouldn’t
believe us, but I’ve had the time of my life here.”

Matt nodded in total agreement. “We hope you succeed.”

“Yes,” Chloe concurred. “Stop the wars. Bring us world
peace, please, before it’s too late.”

“We’ll do the best we can,” Paul agreed, shoving the money
their way. “This is easy for me to replace. Please, take it.” With a wave of
his hand, Uncle Sam faded out of sight. Capie did the same with Tia.

With another wave, a portal opened up a few feet from the
food counter. All of the locals grinned at each other like kids on Christmas
morning.

“Oh, and the burger was excellent,” Paul added with a small
smile. “Thanks!”

• • • •

It took several more portal hops to the south-southeast in
the growing summer darkness before they reached an electrical test equipment
supply store in Downers Grove, Illinois, which was on the verge of closing for
the day. In less than five minutes, Paul and Capie were the owners of two Fluke
VT04A Visual Thermometers.

From the alley next to the store, they portaled to a Best
Buy in the town of Lombard, Illinois. There they purchased a pair of Motorola
MR355R radio transceivers and headsets. That particular model came with iVOX
capability and would let them communicate in “hands-free” mode.

Only two blocks away, they dropped in on a large sporting
goods center. In that store, they quickly selected and purchased a fairly
lengthy list of airsoft supplies and two canvas backpacks.

In an empty aisle, they portaled out of the sports store and
made their way to a safety supply center also conveniently located in Lombard. Although
it made a nice little dent in their available financing, they purchased two
bright blue Level A hazmat suits and two gas masks.

More portals took them eastward, following bridges and
overpasses on Interstates 395 and 80 to the Indiana state line. They no longer
tried to keep their portal hops short or low-powered. Paul’s logic said that
all the Oni and any possible wizards in the area would now be gathered at the hospital
in southern Chicago, preparing their ambush for himself and Capie there. In the
interest of time, therefore, Paul felt the risk of speed was justified.

In Hammond, Indiana, they quickly visited four fireworks
stores, buying up all the smoke bombs they could lay their hands on. Fireworks
were pretty much illegal in Illinois, but Indiana state laws were far more
lenient. It didn’t hurt that all the stores had been stocking up in preparation
for the approaching July 4
^th
holiday.

Another shorter portal leap took them to Calumet Park, right
on the bank of Lake Michigan. There, Paul took out several items from the
shopping bags they had picked up at the sporting goods store and laid them out
on an invisible magical table underneath a nearby street light. There were four
airsoft guns: two A&K Masada, MAGPUL ACR airsoft rifles and two KWA Heckler
& Koch HK45 GBB pistols inside four overly large cardboard boxes. In addition,
the four smaller shopping bags held an assortment of accessories and airsoft
BBs.

“The salesman said the Masada has a range of over 150 feet,”
Paul babbled rapidly as his hands flew across the equipment. “But I can
probably increase that some, with a magical spell to boost the barrel
pressure—”

“That’s nice dear,” Capie intoned, with a glance heavenward
for moral support.

“And it has a collapsible stock, sling, and extra magazines!
It can fire 15 rounds a second!” Paul prattled away eagerly. “And it has an
Eotech holographic sight! How cool is all that?”

“Dear, four guns! You’re armed for a small war!”

“One of these rifles and a pistol is for you—”

“And I told you in the store that I don’t know how to shoot
a gun!” she declared grimly, as she turned her head away from him.

Paul picked up a pistol. “Just pretend it’s a phaser. Flip
the safety switch here and then aim and squeeze the trigger,” Paul said,
pointing out the hardware involved. “It doesn’t have very much recoil nor does
it make very much noise.”

“Is this really necessary to save Dad?”

“Yes, it is,” Paul replied candidly.

His wife sighed. “Fine. Can I try it here?”

“By all means,” Paul replied, handing the gun over.

Capie took it firmly in both hands, flipped the switch off
and pointed it at a nearby garbage can. Squinting her eyes and turning her head
sideways, the gun shaking in her hand, she pulled the trigger. There was a soft
phuft and a clicking noise and the airsoft BB missed the garbage can by more
than two feet.

She looked a little embarrassed. “I was expecting more noise
than that.”

“Try again.”

She aimed again and, much more confidently this time, pulled
the trigger. The BB hit dead center of the can. With a smile, she quickly fired
five more times.

“That’s fun, actually!” she declared.

“So, help me load the ammunition now,” Paul said adroitly.
“We need to scoop out the center of each BB and replace it with a drop of
deuterium enriched water. At that point, this airsoft gun combined with our
magic spells to create fusion inside the BBs, will be the equivalent of a
grenade launcher, sort of like the M79 but this will be self-loading. The
pistols will be semi-automatic and the rifles will be fully automatic.”

Capie eyed the bag of airsoft BBs prudently. “And you can
control the size of each fusion explosion, right?”

“Yep. Anything from a firecracker up to a stick of dynamite.
And that’s per BB,” her husband replied with a smirk. “After we load the BBs, I
want to teach you how to trigger fusion on a BB you’ve fired.”

“Do we really have time for that?” Capie asked, a very sour
look on her face. “I only made a B in physics in high school. By the way, I
didn’t know I was marrying a gung-ho troglodyte.”

Wisely, Paul left her last comment alone. “If Jaret could
catch on to isotopes, you can learn this, I promise. And I can create visual
aids to help too, don’t forget. We will need some water from Lake Michigan,
filtering it for deuterium atoms. So, let’s get started…”

South Cottage Grove Ave.

Chicago, IL

June

Monday 8:45 p.m. CDT

J
ust
a few miles south of downtown Chicago, there stood a non-descript, red brick,
two-story building not far from the University of Chicago. Inside the brightly
lit interior of a gray painted hallway, an oval shaped portal materialized, and
Paul and Capie stepped through. Both of them were wearing their blue Level A hazmat
suits with their gasmasks on top of their heads and the hoods folded back, but
with the gloves stored in a pouch hanging on one hip.

“Gosh, this suit is hot!” Capie complained. “And this
backpack with all the smoke bombs in it is really heavy!” She glanced around
nervously. “I don’t see anyone. Are you sure that there are people here?”

“Just a small maintenance crew,” Paul replied, as he tried
the doorknob on a hallway door. “According to the internet, the switching gear we
need access to is inside this room.” He opened the door and nodded for her to
follow him.

Inside, there were banks of 19 inch electrical racks, all filled
with assorted equipment and wiring. Stepping over to one such panel, Paul
quickly began punching buttons and throwing switches. Then he grabbed a small
corded headset with a boom mike that was hanging from a nearby hook and put it
on.

With a small cough, his voice changed, going much higher in
pitch.

“Chicago Fire Department, this is the 911 call center. We
have an emergency condition at the Bernard A. Mitchell Hospital at the
University of Chicago Medical Center. Repeat, an emergency situation has developed.
Possible hazardous chemical spill and it sounds very serious. We recommend a
four alarm fire response. Repeat, a four alarm fire response, possible
hazardous chemicals involved, the Bernard A. Mitchell Hospital.”

Capie smiled and shook her head. “You got a kick out of doing
that, didn’t you?”

Paul shrugged, “Remember, that was Chloe’s suggestion, to
clear out the hospital and get the patients out of harm’s way.” Paul pushed
another series of buttons. “Chicago Police Dispatch, this is the 911 call center.
We have an emergency situation at the Bernard A. Mitchell Hospital at the
University of Chicago Medical Center. Possible terrorist attack in progress.
Shots fired. At least one officer down. SWAT team response recommended. Repeat,
possible terrorist attack in progress. Shots fired. One officer down, possibly others.
Bernard A. Mitchell Hospital.”

With more flips of the switches, Paul took the headset off.

“There. I’ve disabled the switchboard links to the 911
center. It’ll take the phone people a few minutes, at least, to find and fix
the problem. In the meantime, all sorts of emergency vehicles will soon be
converging on the hospital.”

“Shouldn’t we put on our radios now?” his wife asked.

“Yes, let’s.” With a spell, they each activated the units
attached to their waists under the suits and slipped on the headsets underneath
the gas masks.

“Communications check,” Capie said, her voice automatically
activating the iVOX channel. Her voice came through loud and clear in Paul’s
earpiece.

“You are five by five,” he said with a grim smile. “Now,
remember the plan. If you see an Oni, avoid it at all cost! I have the tantalum
block, which is stronger than your gold band. And I have more magical
experience.
I
will go after the Oni we need.
Your
job is to help
clear the Normals out of the building. Capisci?”

Capie sighed and looked downward. “Capisco. But please be
careful and don’t take any unnecessary chances, okay? I want you back in one
piece. Alright?

Paul grinned. “I promise. But it’s time to go now. I want to
catch a ride on the back of Engine 47 as it goes past.”

A portal took them outside to the street. In the distance,
they could already hear the sound of a siren growing louder.

As Engine 47 rounded their corner, Paul and Capie levitated
into the air and chased after the vehicle, grabbing the stainless steel rails
on the rear and pulling themselves in close. Despite herself, Capie appeared to
be enjoying the bumpy ride as the huge red vehicle hurtled down the center of
the four lane road.

Holding tight with one hand, Paul slipped the gas mask fully
over his face with the other.

Theirs was the second fire engine to arrive on scene at the
Bernard A. Mitchell Hospital, less than a minute behind Engine 84. As Engine 47
slowed to maneuver through the parked cars on the street, both Paul and Capie
jumped off and started running for the building’s front glass doors. Paul tugged
the gloves from his hip pouch, putting them on as well, then pulled the hood
over his head, fastening it in place with a small spell. He saw Capie doing the
same thing and nodded at her.

As he marched through both the outer and inner glass doors, Paul
also activated the link to the speaker mounted on the chest plate of his hazmat
suit. This would allow him to communicate through the gas mask and hood.

Behind him, in the street, two police squad cars screeched
to a halt, their sirens winding down.

Capie and he were barely through the doors when a fireman
stepped in front of them.

“Sir, I’m sorry, but the two of you can’t come through
here—”

In Paul’s ears, the man’s voice sounded tinny, like the
speaker at a drive through fast food joint.

From her hip pocket, Capie took out her Fluke Visual Thermometer,
held it forth and swung it from side to side.

“Trace amounts of toxins!” she barked through the speaker on
the front of her suit. “No pathogens, but definite traces of nerve agents!”

In one gloved hand, Paul held out a badge, one that he had
magically fabricated back in the Bulldog’s Restaurant from a plastic and waxed-paper
soft drink container.

“Homeland Security!” he snarled, “Bio-warfare Division!
Where’s your captain!?”

The lobby of the hospital was in a complete uproar. There
were patients and visitors scattered along the walls, looking around in
complete bewilderment. Several firemen were in the center of the room wearing
SCBA gear and carrying axes. There was an ongoing scream session at the front
counter with two nurses doing their best to tell two firemen that there were no
alarms and no reports of chemical or hazardous spills in the building.

The Bernard A. Mitchell hospital had been built in the early
1980’s and as such, predated AutoCAD generated drawings. However, there had
been building upgrades over the years and, using his magical powers, Paul had
found digital files on the internet showing the building’s ventilation system.
Mentally concentrating and uttering a spell, he snapped forth a series of small
portals, scattering triggered smoke bombs inside of the main ventilation shafts
on both the first and second floors on the near end of the hospital. It shouldn’t
take long…

“What’s going on here?” screamed a new voice as three police
officers pushed their way through the front doors.

Paul held out his badge again. “Homeland Security! Bio-warfare
Division! I need
everyone
out of this building!”

The black police officer stared at him. “Hazmat suits? You
can’t be serious—!”

More firemen were pushing in behind the police. “Who’s in
charge here?” shouted one of them.

It was at that moment that billows of green smoke
practically exploded out of the ventilation system grills.

“Toxic levels!” Capie howled. “
Lethal
toxic levels!”

Pure panic rampaged through the room as everyone
simultaneously bolted for the exit.

Paul ramped up the volume on the speaker on his chest.
“Evacuate this building! Now! NOW!
NOW
! And if you see any red gas,
RUN
FOR YOUR LIVES
!”

• • • •

Paul and Capie separated, stomping through the first and
second floors, flashing badges, screaming orders for people to get out and then
planting and triggering more smoke bombs.

All throughout the building, hospital personnel were
frantically evacuating patients in wheelchairs, gurneys and hospital
beds—anything that would roll. More and more firemen and police were showing
up, lending assistance, and helping patients out of their rooms and the
building.

Capie moved up to the third floor while Paul tackled the
fourth. From the hospital records that they had tapped into at the restaurant,
they knew that Chris was ‘supposedly’ in Room 508 and it was logical to presume
that the Oni had set their trap on that floor at that location.

“No sign of any Oni on this floor either,” he told Capie
over his headset as he marched down a fourth floor hallway.

“I feel bad that we are scaring all these people to death,”
Capie said back over her headset. “Nothing on the third floor as well.”

“I’m moving to the sixth floor,” Paul replied. “If we don’t
do this, your father’s life is in extreme risk. And remember, all we need is one
Oni.”

The elevators and even stairwells were all busy, so Paul
cast a spell at one elevator door, forcing the doors to open on the empty
shaft. He peered in and looked down and saw the top of the elevator car heading
downward. With a levitation spell, he floated into the shaft and up to the
sixth floor and magically forced the doors open there.

He saw several nurses and orderlies milling about
uncertainly, so he popped out a few more smoke bombs into ventilator shafts and
one into the nurse’s station.

Paul walked out into the middle of the group of Normals and,
holding forth his visual thermometer, he started screaming, “Homeland Security,
Bio-Warfare Division! This hospital is heavily contaminated and must be
evacuated
now, Now, NOW
!”

Clouds of red smoke burst into the hallway, as screams
echoed forth.

“And if you see any green gas,
RUN FOR YOUR LIVES
!”

• • • •

A couple of minutes after her last conversation with her
husband, Capie thought about leaving the third floor and heading up to the
fifth. She had worked the third floor pretty hard and it was already well on
its way to being evacuated. But no, she couldn’t do that. Paul wouldn’t like
it.

However, since she was done with the third floor, her
masquerade as a Homeland Security Agent was no longer needed. With little
effort, she found an empty office and went in, closing the door behind her. She
started to ‘doff’ the hazmat suit but found it difficult to remove the thing
single-handed. She found it easier to get it off by using magic spells, ripping
the material off in large pieces. With one hand, she pulled loose the gasmask, and
then yanked forth the airsoft rifle, pistol and her spare magazines from out of
the folds of the blue suit. Then she shucked off the backpack now nearly empty
of smoke bombs.

Out in an open corridor, she slung the rifle over one
shoulder and headed out.

When she went around a corner in the corridor, she saw her
very first Oni, about fifty feet away, dressed in the uniform of a hospital
security guard. And it was heading her way.

For a second, she froze, not knowing what to do.

The Oni was extremely ugly, far more so than the images that
Paul had shown her. Ghastly! Ugh! She had no desire to meet anything like
that
on a dark street in the middle of the night!

Still, their plan depended on separating one Oni from the
others, in order to take it captive. And, as best she could tell, here was one
already all by itself.

Maybe get it to follow her? Then she could contact Paul and
they could arrange a place to ambush it?

She ducked back around the corridor corner and out of its
sight. She wasn’t sure why she was hiding. There were still a few Normals
running up and down the corridor and the Oni wasn’t paying any attention to any
of them. And with her different clothing, her new hairstyle and minus the
wheelchair, her looks were altered enough that she shouldn’t be recognizable as
Chris Kingsley’s daughter any more. Of course, the airsoft rifle she had in hand
and the pistol in the shoulder holster marked her as different from the other
Normals here and
that
might get her noticed.

So she pulled back and hot-footed it into the small office
again, swinging the door most of the way closed, leaving it cracked only
partway open.

The Oni rounded the corner, marching along at a good clip.
Up this close, through the crack, she got an even better look at how hideous it
was and she decided that she really didn’t want one of these beasts chasing
her.

And then the Oni stopped in mid-stride, staring at her door.

She had been seen! Her heart skipped two beats, then it
kicked into overdrive.

The Oni was giving her and the door a suspicious stare.

“What’s going on, lady?” it hollered. “Why are you hiding?”

That was when Capie saw the fire-extinguisher tucked inside
a glass-door cabinet mounted in the wall behind the beast.

She closed her eyes and concentrated. “In the name of Miss
Scarlet, Professor Plum and Mrs. Peacock, may my wizardly spell do it to the
Oni in the hall with the fire extinguisher!”

She opened her eyes in time to see the glass-door spring
open and the fire extinguisher leap out of the cabinet, the pin shooting out of
the handle, the short hose whipping around to aim, and the sudden spewing discharge
of white vaporous gas fired directly at the head of the Oni monster. Out of the
corner of one eye, she noted that the Normals in the hallway were scattering,
clearing the area as fast as they could.

With an angry roar, the Oni spun around, trying to swat the
flying fire extinguisher out of the air. But the red canister danced out of
range, adjusting its aim to continue the attack.

Capie snapped the door open and swung up the rifle. However,
it wouldn’t fire! Mumbling angry words at herself, she flipped the safety off
and squeezed the trigger again, hard.