Deadly Weakness (Gray Spear Society) (19 page)

"Obviously," she said.

He had to warn Xavier immediately! He put the woman on hold and dialed Xavier's number. It rang once before he answered.

"Run!" Hanley yelled. "Get out of there before they kill you!"

"It's me again," the strange woman said calmly.

"What?" He stared at his phone. "How?"

"We can control the phone system. Xavier will only receive the calls we want him to receive, and you will only place the calls we want you to place. Are you near the fence, yet? Don't touch it."

Hanley was approaching a fence made of wooden poles. The pieces were stacked without the use of nails. Judging by the poor condition of the wood, the fence had been here for a very long time.

"I'm there," he said.

"The fence is smeared with a powerful neurotoxin gel," she said. "If you put your bare hand on it, you'll die. Throw a jacket or something over the fence so you can cross safely. That's the quickest way out."

He didn't want to take off his heavy coat. It was too cold. The rotting wood gave him a better idea. He gave the fence some swift kicks to knock it down and walked across the fallen poles. The thick soles of his boots would protect him, but he would have to throw the boots away the next chance he got.

He reached a snowy field on the other side and spoke into his phone. "I'm across."

"Great," the woman said. "Go straight up the hill to the top, but stay off the road. The grass should be safe, I think."

"Should be?"

"Just in case, I wouldn't walk on any shadows."

Hanley heard somebody fall behind him. One of the soldiers had stumbled on the loose fence poles. His hands were resting on the wood.

"Get up!" Hanley yelled. "Quick! Wash your hands with snow!"

The soldier scrambled to rub his hands on the snow. At first there were no symptoms, and Hanley thought he might be fine. Then, the soldier started breathing rapidly and his eyes bulged.

"One of my men is poisoned!" Hanley said to the woman. "What do I do?"

"Last rights," she replied in a disinterested tone.

"Bitch!"

"Death waits beyond this point. That wasn't clear enough? And let's not forget who gave the orders for this suicide mission. You're ultimately responsible for every casualty tonight. Maybe next time you won't be so arrogant and stupid."

He squeezed his phone in anger.

The soldier was turning blue and could only make tiny gasps. The other men tried CPR, but it obviously wasn't working. Hanley turned away. Finally, the horrible noises ended.

Colonel Rosecrans came up to him. "We have to keep moving."

"This is a disaster," Hanley muttered.

"Yes, but we're not out of the woods, yet, literally."

Hanley nodded and started walking up the hill. "Follow me."

The long climb was brutal on his already aggravated knee. By the time he reached the top, he was limping. He couldn't help himself. The rest of the men followed, and they didn't run into any more traps.

Hanley turned and faced Camp Zonta. Fires were still burning brightly. Some of the corpses were lying in the open under the moonlight. The Unit would have to come back for the bodies when he figured out how to retrieve them safely.

He spoke into his phone, "I'm on the hill."

"That means you're safe," the woman said. "Enjoy the fireworks. I'll see you later tonight." The call ended.

Fireworks?

Hanley began to feel vibrations in the ground. Suddenly, a long series of huge explosions ripped through the camp. Orange fireballs rose up like giant burning mushrooms. Debris was thrown far into the night sky. He had to cover his eyes with his arm to protect them from the shower of dust.

When the smoke cleared, he saw that Camp Zonta was completely gone. There was just overturned dirt and ash now. Even the M113's had disappeared, although the wreckage had to be somewhere. There was no sign of the Unit's fallen men.

"We were standing on a giant bomb," Hanley said. "She could've killed us at any time."

"Apparently," Rosecrans replied.

"Why didn't she?" Hanley faced the colonel.

"Good question. You probably won't like the answer when you get it."

"She promised to see me later. It seems I'll have a meeting with somebody tonight."

Rosecrans raised his eyebrows. "We need to get you away from here. Now."

"Let's not panic over a vague threat." Hanley shook his head.

The colonel looked at the vast field of smoking dirt that had once been Camp Zonta. "I don't think the threat is vague at all. Not in the least."

Chapter Eleven

Xavier walked slowly through the woods back to Camp Zonta. He needed to make an appearance at the banquet. Obviously, he would spend more time at this convention than he had anticipated. He didn't want his absence to become a topic of speculation.

His alternative was attempting to flee right now. That would be a huge decision. He would be running for the rest of his life, however long it lasted. He had heard stories of other people who had tried to escape the wrath of the Gray Spear Society. In all cases the adventure hadn't ended well for them. Even though Xavier had tremendous abilities and dozens of successful missions under his belt, he wasn't certain he would do much better.

Fleeing only made sense if he had been caught. At this point, he had no evidence that had happened. Hanley attacking the wrong camp was a very disturbing and inexplicable event, but it didn't automatically imply the game was over. Aside from missing the first course of dinner, Xavier had done nothing to incriminate himself. He was inclined to stick around a while longer. Maybe he could still turn this opportunity to his advantage.

He wore a heavy winter coat and mittens, but the cold was still painful. It really stung his nose and eyes. He had always thought ski masks looked ridiculous, but he wanted one now. All exposed skin needed to be covered in this kind of weather.

He arrived at his cabin. He had been wearing civilian clothes in anticipation of leaving the camp. He now put his formal robes of office back on. The thick, soft fabric felt like he was wrapped in luxurious towels. He strapped on an assortment of weapons so he wouldn't look out of place in the banquet. He rubbed his eyes to make them red and create the appearance of being a little sick. His nose was already dripping from standing in the cold.

He put his heavy coat back on and rushed through the night. Nobody had tried to kill him, yet, which he took as a good sign. Punishment was a very swift process in the Society. It usually happened at the speed of a bullet. There would be no trial and little conversation, if any.

He entered the main building, and the warmth came as a relief. He hung up his coat and proceeded into the banquet hall. The aromas made his mouth water. The assistants were serving thick stew, Cornish hens, and stuffed baked potatoes.

There was an empty seat across from Sampson. He headed in that direction while trying not to draw attention.

"You came after all," a familiar voice said. "I thought you were sick."

Xavier turned and faced Aaron. With his straight brown hair and strong jaw, he was a fine looking man. He was still enjoying the best years of his life, which made Xavier a little jealous. Xavier was about ten years his senior and starting to feel the claws of old age dragging him down.

"I decided my social obligations exceeded my health needs," Xavier said. "I don't know how long I'll stay though."

"Do you want a pill or something?"

"No, I'll just tough it out. I'll be fine by morning."

"Just tell me if you change your mind," Aaron said. "I want all my guests to be comfortable. It's a shame you missed the award presentation."

"What was the fabulous trophy?"

"Ethel gave Hammer the crown of the North American division."

"What?" Xavier opened his eyes wide. "The actual legate's crown? The authentic article?"

Aaron nodded. "You know about it?"

"Of course! It's mentioned many times in the
tabella
. I'd love to see it. I'm surprised you didn't know about it. Haven't you read any of the
tabella
?"

"I don't know Latin."

"Then learn," Xavier said. "The
tabella
contain the entire secret history of the Society. As a commander, it's your obligation to educate yourself so you don't repeat the mistakes of the past. Besides, they're delightful entertainment. Packed with fascinating true stories, usually written by the people actually involved. Every time I crack open a volume, I don't want to put it down. It's endlessly fascinating stuff."

"Thanks for the good advice. How many have you read?"

"Getting through the entire set is the project of a lifetime. There are three thousand chapters in three hundred volumes. I've read forty books so far, but that's not bad. The archaic language does make it slow going at times. According to legend, if you read every word of every book, you will know the mind of God."

Aaron raised his eyebrows. "Do you believe that?"

"Not really, but it's a nice legend."

"Do you want to take a look at the crown right now? I'm sure Hammer won't mind showing off his trophy. Unless you want to eat first."

"Eating isn't a good idea." Xavier shook his head. "My stomach wouldn't like it."

Hammer had the honor of dining at the legate's table tonight. It was just the two of them. Xavier was a little nervous about getting so close to Ethel. Her weird dark eyes seemed to search out the truth in men's souls. However, Xavier had long ago learned to control his physical reactions completely. He wouldn't seem the least bit guilty or worried in front of her.

"Hello, ma'am." He nodded politely to her. "And congratulations to you, Hammer. It was a very impressive performance."

"Thank you, sir." Hammer smiled. "That means a lot coming from a commander with your proud record of accomplishment."

"I heard you were sick?" Ethel said. "Are you feeling better?"

"Not really, ma'am," Xavier said. "I can't promise I'll stay for the entire banquet."

"That's a shame. We'll miss your fabulous mustache." She smiled a little.

He didn't detect any hostility in her. Aaron also seemed genuinely friendly, as if nothing at all had changed. Xavier was watching for red flags but hadn't seen any so far. He was slowly reaching the conclusion that not fleeing had been the right decision.

Aaron picked up an antique wooden box bound with iron straps. "May I?"

"Please do, sir," Hammer said. "It's not really mine anyway. I'm just holding it on behalf of the legate."

Aaron opened the box and took out the crown. The primary material was a gray metal that was probably a lead or silver alloy. Many black diamonds gleamed with subtle beauty. He gave the crown to Xavier.

Xavier hefted it. "Bigger and heavier than I expected. I can't believe I'm actually holding the real thing. It's like I'm suddenly part of history. I've read a dozen stories about this crown."

"Like what?"

"Let's see if I can remember a juicy one." Xavier furrowed his brow. "This story takes place during the American Revolution. It was a very complicated time for the Society here. Before the Europeans colonized the continent, all the cells were centered on Native American tribes. But by 1776, a transition was taking place. There were some new English cells, some French up north, and a Spanish cell down in Mexico. About half were still traditional Native American teams though. That's a lot of cultures and languages. Not surprisingly, there was a considerable amount of friction between the cells. Even the Indians didn't get along with each other."

"A tough time to be a legate," Ethel said.

"Very. The legate at that time was a shaman who was part of the Shawnee tribe. His home was in Ohio. I won't try to pronounce his name, but it translates to Black Deer. His gift was clairvoyance. He could see things hundreds of miles away. In an age before telecommunications, that was an extremely useful talent. Black Deer was the product of an ancient tradition of Native American legates that had lasted for a thousand years. He had ceremonies for everything. Even the Iroquois respected him, and they tried to kill the Shawnee at every opportunity. He had a crown, but not this one."

Xavier returned the crown to Hammer, who put it in its box.

Xavier continued, "The
tabella
describe Black Deer's crown as being made of obsidian and pure silver. It was decorated with symbols of great spiritual significance. I expect it was beautiful, but the Europeans hated it. They considered it a barbaric artifact, ill suited for a more 'civilized' age. The Boston cell even went to the trouble of constructing an entirely new crown at great expense. That's the one we have here." He patted the box.

"Two crowns?" Aaron said.

"Which is one too many. The Boston and New York cells travelled to Ohio to present the new crown as a gift to Black Deer. They assumed he would love it, but naturally, he didn't. He was extremely offended by the suggestion his ancient crown was inadequate. Two Indian cells also attended the presentation. So, about forty members of the Society were there, split evenly between English settlers and Native Americans. They had good reasons to hate each other even before the meeting. It was an era of nasty little wars. Everybody was fighting over land, and atrocities were commonplace. The Europeans were certainly no friend of the natives."