Super Born: Seduction of Being (40 page)

“
It’s just the room service
food.”

She smiled briefly. “No, what is
it?”

I stared at my feet for a second.
“Rebecca…Jennifer’s got Rebecca. Jones called and said she was
taken away from the B&B I checked her into.” Allie showed no
surprise. “And there was a note addressed to me.” Again her
expression was plain. “Hello? Any of this sinking in to
you?”

“
All of it. What did the note
say?”

“
It said if I wanted to see Rebecca
again, I needed to meet her on top of the Bank Towers Building at
ten o’clock tonight…and I had to bring you with me. It’s a trap,” I
said at last.

“
Of course it’s a trap,” she
answered.

“
Can you handle her?”

She appeared agitated. “You tell me Rebecca can
dissolve people, and she’s the weaker one. Who knows what the
strong one can do?” She shook her head.

“
Let’s just take Paige and go. We
can be in Rio or on the Mediterranean, away from all
this.”

She was angry now. “They knew you would think
something like that, but they knew I couldn’t just leave once I
heard about it. It’s a challenge with the cards stacked in her
favor.”

“
I won’t risk you. It’s not worth
it.”

She turned to face me. “If you thought that,
you never should have told me about this. The choice isn’t yours
anymore.”

It was time for me to man up. “Well then, we
have about seven hours to come up with Plan A.”

She sighed. “It better be a good
one.”

I slowly slid my hand over and found hers as it
was sliding toward mine. We locked them together, felt the warmth
begin, and then simultaneously let go and put our hands on our
stomachs. We knew that we could not control the explosion of
passion that any further contact would ignite. Soon today would be
tomorrow, and there would be no one to save Rebecca.

Chapter
3
5

Plan A

By 9:30 p.m., Plan A was in action. Allie and I
were in communication via both walkie-talkie and a mobile phone. I
had debated getting some type of weapon, but remembering the fate
of dozens of thugs and Carmine Camino’s fancy assault rifles, I’d
decided it wasn’t worth the effort. What’s more, it definitely
wasn’t my style; I might accidentally shoot myself in the foot, the
head, or somewhere important.

I felt an eerie sense of dread as I
walked under the massive old clock held up by the fierce-looking
stone eagles over the front door of the Bank Towers building. It
was like the clock was tolling for me, and the eagle’s wings were
outstretched in warning. My fear and apprehension made the heavy
gray granite exterior of the building feel like a giant tombstone.
The sign under the clock read
Bank
Towers,
but when I looked up, I could have
sworn it flashed,
Here Lies Logan—He Knows
Not What He Does.
While I entered through
the front door, Allie used the darkness from her post on a nearby
radio tower to cover the top of the building and the surrounding
streets. She had changed into her B.I.B. clothes…sweet.

My first fear was that I would never get past
security. I was nervous when I approached the two guards, but then
smiled when I saw that they were men from Scranton in their
thirties—RFDs, you know… morons. They looked at one another as I
approached, saying, “It’s your turn…No, it’s your turn…I did it
last time…” They played what looked like a quick game of rock,
paper, halfwits, and the loser finally spoke to me. “Can I help
you?”

His partner patted him on the back saying,
“Good job.”

I had this one. “Yeah, dudes. I left my antlers
upstairs and I need to go get ’em before I can go to O’Malley’s.
You think I could just run up there?”

“
Sure! I’m headed to O’Malley’s
after work too. See ya there!” said the guard who had greeted me.
The other guard tapped himself on the head with such force that he
almost knocked himself over, saying, “Oh, man, I left my antlers at
home too!”

“
Where are the elevators?” I asked.
The RFD on the right pointed left while the one on the left pointed
right. Confused by his friend’s left indication, the one on the
left changed and pointed up. I found the elevators
anyway.

I checked out the elevators, stairways, and all
the routes to and from the roof. As 10:00 p.m. approached, there
was still no sign of Jennifer or Rebecca.

At 9:55 p.m., I radioed Allie for the final
time. “I don’t see anyone,” I said.

“
You had still better get up there,”
she answered back. “Logan? Good luck. Be careful.”

“
Right. Easy for you to say.” I
sighed and marched to the elevator, a man totally unable to believe
what he was about to do. After the elevator came another stairway,
and then I unlatched the heavy door marked “roof access”. It was
dark, breezy, overcast, with nothing but a few emergency lights for
illumination. No one was there. I walked around, displaying myself
to anyone who cared to see. Five after 10:00 p.m., then a quarter
after, and still I was alone.

I was getting ready to ask the B.I.B. about
Plan B when a golden ball of light appeared fifty feet away,
illuminating the entire rooftop and quickly taking the shape of a
fit, long-haired brunette dressed in military-type camouflage. I
readied myself for yet another meeting with Jennifer, my hand
protecting my crotch, when I realized this was not a woman I had
ever seen. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail. “Where’s the
B.I.B.?” She said, walking toward me. “You were told to bring
her.”

Plan A was to get Jennifer to show me
everything she had to fight us with before Allie became involved.
If the battle looked hopeless, she was to run—plain and simple.
Live to fight another day, another way. And I would have to get by
as I usually did, by the skin of my teeth, wit, and charm.
(Actually, the skin of my teeth never has done me much good—come to
think of it, ditto for the wit and charm.) But of the many things
Allie and I had imagined that might take place, a mean-looking
woman appearing out of a ball of light was not topping the list, or
actually even on the list. “Where’s your boss? And who are you,
anyway? I don’t talk with the help.”

The woman—she appeared to mean business, so I
called her Toughy—raised her hand to strike me, but then stopped,
as if instructed by a voice I could not hear. Another ball of
golden light appeared, just like the first one. The shape of
another woman in combat fatigues materialized, but this woman
remained stationary, glowing in her pulsating aura—let’s call her
Goldie. Attached to her by a beam of waving golden light was a
third woman, cocooned in an auric glow with her arms and legs bound
by the same sparkling bands of white energy that blindfolded her.
The light waves crackled like high-tension power lines. Finally, I
recognized someone: Rebecca.

Then, Goldie launched another beam of light
that pulsed like lightning, connecting her to Toughy. Toughy smiled
and lifted her head joyously, as if being fed ice cream. “There is
Rebecca,” Toughy said after a moment, pointing. “Now, your part of
the bargain.”

“
I don’t see your boss. Let Rebecca
go,” I insisted.

“
You are not in a position to
dictate terms,” she said, bristling. “Where is the
B.I.B.?”

“
Safe. Where’s your boss?” I said,
trying to bristle back at her, nose to nose.

“
Wrong answer,” Toughy said,
striking me in the left arm, sending me flying against a large
metal utility box.

I lay there for a moment trying to decide if my
arm was broken or my shoulder separated or both. She was on me
quickly, lifting me with enormous strength, her hand on my throat.
“You have no choice, little man. Now tell us where she is!” she
said, striking my jaw and sending me back to the ground.

I stared at her defiantly and spit out some
blood. I stood up, a bit groggy. “I do have a choice and I’ve
already made it!” I said. (What a glorious bastard.) The bitch was
starting to get my adrenaline flowing—I swung my free forearm and
pounded her up under the chin as hard as I could. She didn’t seem
to notice, merely smiled, but it sure hurt me like hitting a
rock.

She was getting ready to swing again when
another ball of light appeared next to Goldie, who hadn’t moved.
Instead of pummeling me, Toughy just pushed me to the ground.
Another figure emerged out of the light—this would be Jennifer, I
imagined, not liking the way the deal was progressing. But then I
was surprised to hear a familiar voice. “My friend, there is no
need for this,” said Dr. Jones. “I have no need to hurt you. Just
tell us where she is. Somewhere close, I imagine.” He scanned the
night sky around us.

Jones? I couldn’t have been more surprised if I
found Santa, The Easter Bunny, and Tooth Fairy drinking beer and
playing cards in their underwear. Jones being a villain seemed like
your lovable family dog suddenly mauling little Timmy. Then I
remembered the drawings I’d seen at his apartment that he locked
away, which hadn’t looked like any anal stimulator I’d ever
used…seen, I mean. There was the woman in his apartment who I had
ignored—had she been moaning for help? Maybe she was Goldie or
Toughy; or maybe one of the ones he had lost to the experiment.
Suddenly I felt heavy with guilt for believing him about that woman
in the van, and angry with myself for being just a trusting
schmuck. Patagonian Algorithm my Ass! It was all starting to make
sense. I laughed as best I could with my sore jaw. “You?” I laughed
again. “You played me like a fiddle!”

“
I did, didn’t I!” he said,
prancing.

“
And I played right into your hands.
Told you right where to find Rebecca.”

“
And the B.I.B.,” he said, shaking a
finger at me. “I could tell you knew where she was, but you never
would tell me about her. And why was that, exactly? You could have
made this much easier, but you protected her. Want to tell me
why?”

I figured he needed me alive…at least until he
had Allie. Regardless, I preferred talking with him to being
pummeled painfully by Toughy. It was time to change the subject.
“Want to introduce me to your friends?”

“
Ah, yes,” said Jones, proudly
turning to Toughy and Goldie. “Maybe you can guess who they are.
Let’s see if you can.”

“
There aren’t three Super Born. I’m
guessing there are five, and you’ve collected three for yourself so
far.”

“
Oh, close, very close!” said Jones,
pacing around me. “There are…were, eight. Three did not…work out,
shall we say. These two, after some genetic modifications, are now
totally loyal to me. Rebecca will be soon.”

“
You told me there was a queen bee.
Are you saying that
you’re
the queen bee?”

“
You could say that. This one,” he
said, tapping Toughy on the shoulder, “was my first find; the
weakest of the Super Born, as you call them. She has strength, but
was a disappointment until I found the second,” he said, pointing
to Goldie. “She molds energy. She can move me from here to there,
bend energy, shape it, and transmit it. She holds Rebecca prisoner
in it. Thanks to your information, we knew to isolate Rebecca’s
eyes to neutralize the power that vaporized poor Mr. Camino. My
second one can also feed power to the first, increasing her
strength at least ten times. That’s when I realized that one super
born could build on the others’ powers. By getting them to work
together, they could do anything. I could do anything.”

“
The next three didn’t want to join
either, I take it.”

Jones lowered his head. “Yes, not a complete
success; there were objections to the idea. The genetic
modification took some perfecting…all very unfortunate.”

I sat, pretending to be too weak to stand. “So,
you’re starting with the easiest and working your way up, hey?” I
wanted to keep him talking, while I tried to remember the layout of
the mobile phone in my pocket without looking at it—I’d turned it
on and was dialing the number I’d seen so many times lately
whenever I went to the bathroom.

“
Yes, right again, my friend. I am
not ready to take on Jennifer just yet. That bitch has fought me at
every turn. But with Rebecca and the B.I.B. on my team, we will be
more than a match for her. Then I will have Jennifer’s empireat my
disposal. There will be no one more powerful on the earth. And they
said I wouldn’t even complete my doctorate,” Jones said proudly,
spinning a metallic stick in his hand.

“
What’s your little toy there, Doc?”
I said, dialing the mobile number in my pocket again, on the odd
chance I had screwed it up the first time. (Who, me?)

Jones stopped and stared at the stick as if it
were his true love. He had clearly been dying to tell his story to
someone, and now he had a truly “captive” audience. “This,” he
said, presenting the handle of his shiny chrome rod, which was
surrounded by tubes of different sizes, “this is my creation. This
is what makes it all work…You see,” he said, bending down to my
level, “you should be asking yourself how I ever captured the first
one. Naturally, I don’t expect this level of thought from you, so I
will explain. An average-sized man…”