Deadly Weakness (Gray Spear Society) (2 page)

She looked up at him with watery eyes. "I just want to do something. You could make a phone call..."

"No! We're not getting involved. But if it helps you feel better, I'll let you have the paintball gun for the rest of the training exercise. You can shoot me, if you can find me."

"Thanks." She sniffed.

He kissed her on the lips. "You're welcome."

* * *

Aaron felt Marina arching and grinding beneath him. She gasped with each thrust of his hips. The air in the bedroom was cool, but their bodies were moist.

Their sex was always fantastic, but tonight she seemed distant and distracted. She was hurrying towards a climax rather than savoring the intimacy and prolonging the pleasure. He didn't have to ask what was bothering her.

"Ouch!" he said.

Her black fingernails were as sharp as razor blades. She had scratched his back.

"Sorry," she said. "I could put on gloves."

"No, just be careful."

She kissed him. "OK."

They continued, and the romantic mood gradually returned. He loved her so much. Just looking at her beautiful face was enough to arouse him.

She had a sudden orgasm. Her fingernails dug into his back, and he felt a sharp tingling sensation. She had injected venom into him.

"Ooh! Sorry!" She pushed him off her. "I wasn't paying attention."

He rolled onto his back. "I wasn't even done." The venom was already making him dizzy.

"It was a small dose. You'll just sleep." She hugged his chest. "I apologize. I'll make it up to you in the morning."

He was having a hard time keeping his eyes open. "You'll be more focused?"

"Yes, dear." She kissed him. "I'll be in a better mood then."

He passed out.

* * *

Aaron woke up. He was alone in his bed. There were no windows, so he couldn't tell whether it was day or night by the light. The clock showed seven in the morning, and he was hungry for breakfast.

He used the bathroom and brushed his hair. Then he put on the formal gray robes that marked him as a commander in the Gray Spear Society. The robes had braided hems and a layered hood. He loved how the soft, dense fabric caressed his skin. He often wore the robes when he wasn't expecting to go outside even if there was no particular need. Finally, he buckled on his weapons belt.

He walked out into the main corridor.

Marina's voice came down from speakers attached to the ceiling. "Honey, I'm in the security booth."

Aaron furrowed his brow. He was pretty sure Smythe was supposed to be on security duty. Jack, the team's security chief, took about half of the shifts for himself. The rest were divided up among the staff according to a weekly rotation.

Aaron went to the steel door that protected the booth. It couldn't be opened from the outside. Marina pushed it open and let him in.

She wore black stretch pants and a gray tank top. Her hair needed to be brushed. She looked tired and had dark circles under her eyes. A pair of matched pistols were in holsters on her hips, and a knife was strapped to her wrist.

"What are you doing in here?" he said.

"I had a hard time sleeping," she said. "I kept thinking about that poor girl. Eventually, I just got out of bed. Since I was going to be awake anyway, I volunteered to take an extra shift and sent Smythe home. How did you sleep?"

"Like the dead, thanks to your venom."

"Sorry, again."

"No harm done. You owe me some make-up sex though."

He looked around the booth. Grids of flat panel displays covered the walls. Hundreds of hidden surveillance cameras had been installed inside and around headquarters. Many of the cameras had infrared capability or automatic motion tracking. There were even some long range parabolic microphones for eavesdropping on conversations. A mouse couldn't get within three blocks without being noticed.

A large panel of buttons and switches controlled the defensive weapons systems. The operator could repel an attack on headquarters in a variety of ways, ranging from poison gas to remote control sniper rifles. So far none of those weapons had been used in anger. Hopefully, they never would be.

"Do you want some breakfast?" Aaron said. "I'll make an omelet the way you like it."

She smiled. "That would be wonderful. I'm stuck in here for another hour."

He left the booth and went to the kitchen. It was empty right now, but he didn't expect it to stay that way. The rest of the team lived in separate apartments and had to drive to work. They usually started showing up around this time.

Aaron turned on a television in the corner. While he prepared Marina's omelet, he listened to the morning news. The stories were dull, standard stuff until one grabbed his full attention.

Barney Simpson had died during the night. An intruder had killed him in his downtown apartment.

Aaron had a terrible feeling but didn't let himself jump to the obvious conclusions. He would give Marina the full benefit of the doubt while he quietly investigated the murder. He wanted to see all the evidence before he confronted her.

It didn't help that she had no alibi. She could've snuck away for an hour during her "volunteer" shift in the security booth. Aaron had been unconscious then, and the rest of the team had been at their homes. The surveillance video recordings might show her leaving, unless she had doctored them.

No,
he thought.
She must be innocent. She's way too smart to do something so stupid.

He finished cooking the omelet and brought it to her.

She kissed him. "Thanks. This looks perfect!"

"We're out of eggs," he replied. "I might as well go grocery shopping now. I also have some mail in my office that needs to go out."

"Dress warm. It's freezing outside."

Aaron went up to his office. A surveillance camera was there, so Marina could see him in the booth if she looked at the right monitor. He had to be careful. He kept his back to the camera as he reached into a desk drawer and covertly grabbed a thick folder. After slipping the folder under his robes, he scooped up some loose mail off the desk.

He quickly went down to his private suite. There were no cameras in the bedroom for obvious reasons.

Aaron examined the contents of the folder. The Chicago cell had reliable contacts in every major police department in its entire territory, which stretched from northern Minnesota to southern Illinois. The folder contained the names of all those contacts. A different cover story was attached to each one. The information could've been computerized, but Aaron was old fashioned about such things. He liked paper because it could be burned.

He found a sheet for a Chicago Police Department detective who would have access to information about the Barney Simpson murder. Aaron quickly memorized the important details.

Then he got dressed.

* * *

Aaron's small sedan was parked in the huge parking lot behind the municipal court building at 5101 S Wentworth Ave in Chicago. He was sitting in the driver's seat while the engine ran. It was too cold outside to turn off the heat. Frost decorated the edges of the car windows.

A snowstorm had struck hard a few days ago, and patches of snow still remained on the parking lot. A lot of it had been plowed into huge mounds in the corners. The surface had melted just enough to make it crusty and granular. Pollution had darkened the snow to a light gray color. Solid cloud cover made the weather even more dismal, but it matched his mood.

A pudgy man in a heavy blue coat stepped out of the back door of the court building. His thin brown hair was combed across a large bald spot on top of his head. He carried a leather briefcase. Aaron recognized Detective Ronald Flisk from the picture on his contact sheet. Aaron honked the horn twice.

Flisk jogged over and sat in the passenger seat. He hurriedly closed the door.

"Whew!" he said. "I hate this fucking cold weather."

Aaron offered his hand. "I don't think we've met. I'm James Carroll from Total Access News."

Flisk shook his hand. "I met a woman the last time."

"She retired. I have the Chicago beat now."

"Same deal as before?"

"Sure." Aaron nodded.

Flisk stared at him. "You're a big guy for a reporter. You look strong. You ever play football?"

"Drafted by the Bears. I lasted one series in one preseason game before I blew out my knee. Haven't played since."

"That sucks, man."

"Shit happens." Aaron shrugged. "Are we going to do this?"

"Let me see the money."

Aaron took a stack of twenty dollar bills from his coat pocket and handed it over. "Five hundred."

Flisk quickly counted the money. Then he took some papers from his leather briefcase and gave them to Aaron.

The papers were crime scene photos and reports. Aaron had been a Chicago detective years ago, so this kind of material was very familiar to him. He grabbed a camera from the back seat and started taking pictures of each page.

What he saw through the eyepiece made him tremble with emotion. Simpson had been killed with a knife, but not just any knife. It had a long serrated blade with a black coating. Tight leather straps were wrapped around the handle. The edges of the guard were honed to a sharp edge, making it a useful secondary weapon. Aaron recognized the dagger as one of Marina's personal favorites.

She had thrust the blade through the soft part of the shoulder behind the clavicle. The angle was exactly right to hit the heart. It was a technique specific to the Gray Spear Society.

"Are you OK?" Flisk said. "You look a little spooked."

Aaron gave him a tentative smile. "I'm not used to looking at dead bodies. I'm new at this job."

"Just finish up. I have to get back inside. I'm a witness in a trial."

"Sure."

Aaron finished taking pictures. He returned all the papers to Flisk.

"Nice doing business with you." Flisk got out of the car and ran back to the courthouse.

Aaron sat very still for a few minutes. Tears dripped down his cheeks, but he didn't wipe them off. He had never felt so disappointed and betrayed as now. Marina had committed a crime that couldn't be forgiven. Now he would have to kill the woman he loved more than life itself. He had no choice. His duty was so obvious he couldn't even argue with himself about it. He wanted to rip out his own heart to make it stop hurting so much.

Instead, he drove off.

Chapter Two

By the time Aaron arrived back at headquarters, he had cooled down enough to be merely boiling with rage. He stopped in front of the garage door and waited impatiently. It finally rose up, and he went forward until he reached an internal security barrier. The Plexiglas panels were six inches thick and reinforced with steel girders.

Jack came out of the security booth. "Hello, sir," he said cheerfully.

He wore straight blue jeans and a plaid, wool shirt. His bald head gleamed under the fluorescent lights. He was relatively short for a Spear, but he looked scrappy and tough. A .45 caliber revolver hung low in a holster on his thigh.

Aaron turned his head and glared.

"I'll raise the barrier," Jack said quickly.

He pressed a button on a small box in his hand. Hydraulic pistons lifted the barrier, allowing Aaron to drive forward. He parked and got out.

"Where is Marina?" he growled.

"I think she's trying to take a nap, sir," Jack said in a nervous tone. "In your suite."

Aaron drew a gun and jogged towards his room. He opened the door silently. Marina was sleeping peacefully on their bed. Seeing her beautiful face made his guts twist in knots.

He pointed the gun at her heart. "Don't move," he commanded.

Her eyes flicked open. She froze when she saw him.

"Why?" he said. "Why did you do it? I told you not to. I ordered you."

"Aaron..." she pleaded.

"You flagrantly disobeyed me. You drugged me. You left our headquarters unguarded. You murdered a civilian."

She bit her lip.

"I don't understand," he said. "You've been so much better since Wesley healed your mind. The perfect teammate and a model
legionnaire
. The homicidal outbursts have stopped. Your friends aren't afraid of you anymore. You're even nice to people sometimes. I depended on you to show the others how a member of the Society should behave. I had faith in you. I love you! And now this... this stupidity."

"I can explain," she said softly.

"No, you can't!" he roared. "I saw the picture of your knife. There is no possible excuse. I'm going to hate myself forever, but there's only one thing I can do. The Society has rules, damn it, and it's my job to enforce them. I'm so, so sorry."

Aaron pulled the trigger.

Somebody took his gun away before the bullet fired. The motion was so quick he couldn't follow it with his eyes. He found himself staring at his empty hands.