Deadly Weakness (Gray Spear Society) (34 page)

He opened up the menu. He hadn't had a proper meal in almost twenty-four hours and was very hungry. His eye immediately settled on a triple hamburger with the usual sides. He flagged the waitress and gave her his order.

While he was waiting for his food, he watched the doors. The hockey game was loud and made it hard for him to hear approaching threats. Coming here had been a risk, but he needed to eat.

The television switched to a news reporter, and behind him was a picture of Xavier and his beautiful mustache. The reporter went on about a double rape and a quadruple murder.

Xavier frowned. He had expected Ethel to use the police at some point but not quite this soon. The Gray Spear Society usually tried to solve its own problems covertly before engaging outsiders. Apparently, Ethel was already growing too impatient for her own good. Xavier had wanted to limit the scope of the conflict, but now he had no choice. Any civilian casualties would be entirely her fault.

He calmly went into the bathroom and jammed the door with a knife. There wasn't a window as he had hoped. He drew a second sharp knife, smeared the blade with soap, and began to shave off his mustache. It was an emotionally painful process. He had spent so long getting it exactly right. Now he would look like every other idiot on the street.

He had shaved just one side when he heard a distant siren approaching. He paused. The waitress had probably seen the news report and had called the cops. Xavier shrugged and continued to shave.

A short time later he heard loud voices in the restaurant. The police were here.

Somebody tried the bathroom door handle and then pounded on the door. A man yelled, "Come out with your hands up!"

"Hold on," Xavier said quietly. "Almost done."

He scraped off the last bit of hair. His upper lip was now clean for the first time in many years. He didn't look like himself.

He put away his good knife and drew a gun with a suppressor.

The cop pounded on the door again. "Come out now, or we'll break down the door!"

"Coming," Xavier said.

He produced a shadow. The illusion looked exactly like the real Xavier, including the shaved upper lip. The shadow held the same gun as him, but the fake one was harmless. Xavier could move his shadow around like a puppet and make it speak in his voice. It would continue to exist until Xavier stopped paying attention to it.

He yanked out the knife he had used to jam the door. With his left hand he pulled open the door. His shadow walked out first.

He heard thumping noises as the police tried to arrest something that had no substance. Xavier stepped out an instant later. He shot two cops in the head while they were still distracted by the shadow. The waitress screamed. Xavier killed her and the bartender.

He ran into the kitchen. A startled cook was there, and Xavier put a bullet between his eyes.

The hamburger patties were still cooking, but Xavier didn't mind rare meat. He served them onto a plate. He also grabbed a whole tomato, pickles, bread, and a block of Swiss cheese. It looked like enough food to fill his belly.

He walked out the back door and into the winter air.

* * *

Hanley watched the five prisoners carefully. They wore orange jumpsuits that looked particularly bright in direct sunlight. Thick shackles bound them at the wrists, ankles, and around the waist. They squinted and were obviously unused to being outdoors. They had spent the last four weeks sealed in private concrete cells without even exercise privileges.

Three of the prisoners were women. Normally, ADX Florence only housed men, but Hanley had made a special request because he had wanted the best security available. It didn't really matter what sex a prisoner was. They never met each other in their solitary confinement.

Hanley and Norbert were standing before the prisoners in the yard. Ten anxious and heavily armed guards watched from a short distance back. In this place, visitors never saw prisoners as a group and never outside. A meeting like this one was extremely unusual. From the guard's perspective, everything about it was wrong and dangerous.

"We need more privacy," Norbert said.

Hanley shrugged. "I've done what I can."

"You know what will happen to those guards if they overhear us. Is that what you want?"

"No." Hanley's shoulders sagged. He walked over to the guards. "Gentlemen, we need more space, please. We'll be discussing classified information."

The captain of the guards glared at him. "You have plenty of space. Too much space."

"I'll take full responsibility. OK? Nothing is going to happen."

The guards didn't move.

"Do you want me to get the warden out here?" Hanley said.

Grudgingly, the guards walked back five paces.

Hanley went back to Norbert. "Is that enough?"

"I guess so," Norbert replied. He stepped close to the prisoners, which drew anxious looks from the guards. "First, the legate sends her apologies on behalf of the Gray Spear Society and herself. We didn't know you were still alive. The legate is very sorry you had to suffer for so long."

One of the male prisoners responded, "When did you find out?"

He was big and very strong. Hanley guessed he was a
legionnaire
.

"Just two days ago," Norbert said.

"What happened to us? We were attacked without warning by an unknown enemy. Our defenses were overwhelmed. I watched my commander die. All we know is this guy is somehow responsible." The man nodded towards Hanley.

"I'll let him explain."

Hanley came forward. He felt terribly guilty about what had happened, and he was reluctant to talk. All five prisoners were glaring at him.

"I'm the chief of the FBI Special Missions Unit. We attacked you because we thought you were terrorists. The information came from your own commander in Houston, Xavier. He also gave us the location of your headquarters. He betrayed you."

Their expressions changed from anger to shock.

"It's true," Norbert said. "Miami was hit almost as hard as you for the same reason. Xavier was trying to destroy the Society."

"Is he dead?" the
legionnaire
said.

"No, but we're hunting him down as we speak. He won't escape justice. You can be very sure of that. However, until he's caught, the legate needs you to wait here. The situation is complicated enough. As soon as Xavier is dead, you'll be released. In the meantime, Hanley will do what he can to make your stay more comfortable."

"Yes," Hanley said. "I've already talked to the warden. You'll get as many privileges as the rules allow. If it were up to me, you'd be released right now. I was manipulated by Xavier, and the Unit lost some good men. I'm as angry as you are."

That statement seemed to soothe the prisoners a little.

"What about San Francisco?" the
legionnaire
said. "Northern California is unprotected."

"The neighboring cells will cover for you until you're operational again," Norbert said. "The legate will give you whatever resources you require to rebuild. She already assigned a new commander to you."

"Who?"

"Marina. She has eleven years of experience as a
legionnaire
, and she was trained by the legate when the legate was still the commander of Chicago. She's a brilliant martial artist, a master ninja, and one of the best knife fighters in the world. She's a consummate spy, and of course, she also has a gift. Finally, she's a close friend of mine. I give you my guarantee she'll be everything you expect in a commander and more."

Hanley hadn't known Marina was such an impressive woman. He was intrigued now. If he ever met her again, he would ask about her background.

The prisoners relaxed even more.

"And I have more good news," Norbert said. "The legate is giving you another
legionnaire
to replenish your ranks. He's just a raw recruit but a very promising one."

Hanley had a bad feeling. "Are you talking about me?"

Norbert nodded. "The legate feels it's the least you can do. Your blood and sweat will help rebuild what you nearly destroyed. Marina will train you, and I'm sure she'll do a proper job of it."

The
legionnaire
gave Hanley a wry smile. "And I'll help train you, too. I look forward to teaching you how to fight." The smile turned nasty.

Hanley felt like somebody had punched him in the head.

"In summary," Norbert said, "The San Francisco cell will be restored. Your lives will be restored. Right now the entire division is focused on killing Xavier. Marina is coordinating the search. As soon as that's resolved, she and the legate will turn their full attention to your needs."

The prisoners nodded and appeared satisfied.

Not just prisoners,
Hanley thought.
My team. My new best friends.
Suddenly, his membership in the Society seemed a lot more real.

* * *

The squeaking of brakes was one of the most depressing sounds Smythe had ever heard. It meant his weekend with Odelia was over.

He had ridden the shuttle bus with her down to Chicago. They had sat together and had held hands in silence most of the trip. They couldn't say much about their future together because it was out of their control. Aaron and Yule would make the important decisions for them. The two lovers could only hope for the best.

The bus stopped on top of the parking garage at O'Hare Airport. Smythe and Odelia waited until everybody else had got off. Slowly and reluctantly, they followed.

The air outside was a bit warmer than it had been in Wisconsin. It was still cold though, and Smythe had to zip up his coat all the way. In his haste to leave the camp, he had forgotten to put on his ski cap and his ears were already stinging.

He hugged Odelia tightly. With their coats on, the physical contact was less than he wanted, but it still felt good to have her in his arms. Tears dripped onto her shoulder.

Yule stood a short distance away. He wore special sunglasses that did a fair job of covering his eyes and hiding the odd shape of his face. They wouldn't stand up to close scrutiny though.

"Come on, Odelia," he said. "I don't want to miss our plane."

Odelia nodded and sniffled.

"This isn't the end," he added. "It's just the beginning. My prediction is you two are going to have many adventures together in the coming years."

Smythe gave her a final hug and a big kiss. "Call me when you land in Los Angeles," he whispered.

"OK."

Yule put his arm around her shoulders and guided her away. Smythe watched her walk off until she vanished from sight.

He sighed.

He turned and faced the Rosemont Tower Hotel. The building was just visible from his position. The new headquarters was located on top in a secret bunker that spanned the entire floor. There was so much concrete, steel, titanium, and high density ceramic plate suspended high in the air that the supporting columns had to be ten feet thick. It would be one of the strongest structures in Chicago when the construction was done. Smythe had seen some of the invoices on Aaron's desk, and the costs were staggering.

Smythe wasn't looking forward to taking care of the twins for an extended period. They were very sweet and polite girls, but they had more peculiar habits than an entire ward in an insane asylum. The slightest change in their daily rituals made them freak out. It was Norbert's job to remember all the weird little rules they lived by.

Oh, well,
Smythe thought.
Sometimes being a Spear isn't a glamorous job. At least I don't have to sleep with them like Norbert.

He started jogging.

It took him half an hour to reach the hotel. By the time he arrived, he was perspiring lightly despite the frigid air. It felt good to get exercise after several days of relative idleness. He had spent as much time as possible in bed with Odelia.

He looked up at the copper tinted windows of the tower. He took out his phone and called Bethany. "I'm here," he said. "How do I get up to you?"

"Go around to the back, sir," she said. "There is a ramp down into the basement. Find a big service elevator in the middle and use the standard code. Hold all four buttons down for exactly three seconds."

Smythe followed the instructions, and about twenty minutes later he entered the new headquarters. It was still just a huge empty box made of thousands of tons of heavily reinforced concrete. The interior surfaces were lined with special tiles that acted as a final layer of super-strong armor. He could hardly believe the twins and Norbert had actually lived here for two weeks.

A king sized mattress was lying on the floor, surrounded by stacks of clothes. The twins' clothes were all the same: white shirts and pleated, red skirts. It wasn't clear which were dirty or clean. There was a big green garbage bin, and the air smelled of old food.