"BASILISK III:: Kingdom of the Lost"
May. 25th, 2022 10:23 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dochermesBASILISK III: "The Kingdom of the Lost"
4/13/-4/14/2009
I.
Just as the sky was beginning to grow dark, Jeremy Bane eased his Toyota Matrix into an available space on East 38th Street, just past the Lexington Avenue intersection. Only a few people could be seen outside. An old man digging through litter baskets, a young couple running in matching warm-up suits, a woman carrying two big suitcases and stomping her feet in anger over something.
As that woman passed the Toyota, she had no clue that she was being intensely scrutinized by four pairs of suspicious eyes. Nor that the small blonde in the front passenger seat had her own hand on the grip of a silenced Walther P22 and was almost eager to use it at any hint that the passerby was not an innocent civilian. Behind the wheel, Bane nodded and said, "Everything looks clear to me. What do you guys think?"
In the back seat were two handsome men both around thirty, both wearing neat dark suits with white shirts and thin ties. Holden Crest, top enforcement agent for INTERCEPT, had almost movie-star good looks with wavy dark brown hair and a cleft chin. "Okay as far as I can see. John?"
Beside him, John Lewis Ashcroft from the London office took a second to confirm. He was a black man with very dark skin, short-shaven hair and a winning confident smile. "Quite. Still, one had best be on his toes."
In the passenger seat, Dandelion grumbled. Her platinum blonde hair was pulled up into a swirl on the back of her head. The most dangerous assassin of her era, she grudgingly said, "I guess. But I can't get a good look at that roof across the street..."
"I'll get out first," Bane told them. "With all of you keeping your eyes peeled, what could go wrong?" The Dire Wolf slid out from behind the steering wheel and hiked briskly up to the ten story stone building in the middle of the block. Five wide steps led up to an oaken door which had the number 28 on it and a bronze plaque, KENNETH DRED FOUNDATION. As he placed his foot on the top step, before he could press the buzzer, he was stopped by a man's voice from some concealed speaker, "Ah! Good morning, captain."
"Hi, Josef. Glad to see you're on watch."
"Please come in," answered the voice as the locks clicked the heavy door swung outward by itself. Bane waved for the others to join him. As the three agents jumped out of the car and hurried up to the steps, Bane moved inside the small foyer. It held little more than a bench, a table with magazines and a lamp. On the wall to the left was an oil portrait of a white-haired gnomish man labelled KENNETH DRED 1900-1979.
"Hold on, everyone. I know it's a tight squeeze." Bane got them all in on top of each other. A series of low humming noises and a scent of ozone were perceptible, then the man's voice continued, "All of you have positive IDS. But you know KDF policy. Those firearms have to be surrendered before the inner door opens."
"Right, Josef." Bane flipped up the seat of the bench to reveal a padded interior, into which he placed his long-barreled Smith & Wesson. "All right, all the guns in here. It's a rule."
Both Crest and Ashcroft complied, but Dandelion hesitated. She was a small woman, wearing a waist-length denim jacket, and she made no move to cooperate.
"Dandelion, you'll have to stay out here then." Bane's voice was not angry, just firm. "No one brings a gun inside."
In obvious bad temper, the blonde pulled two of the silenced Walthers from the built-in holsters inside her jacket, then got a third from the small of her back. She placed them into the bench and straightened up.
"Come on, you know better," Bane said.
Finally, she drew a tiny one-shot derringer from inside her boot and added it to the collection. As the lid closed, it locked with a decisive click. "Happy now?"
"Yeah, very happy." Bane made room as the inner door swung toward them and they saw the front hall. Standing there was the Blind Archer. Josef Jubilec was tall and lanky, dressed in a plain white T-shirt and black jeans. The muscles in his chest and arms stood out dramatically, a bit overdeveloped from a lifetime pulling a bow. Josef had short sandy hair and watchful blue eyes in a weahered face.
"Hello, captain," the Blind Archer said in his faint accent. "What brings you and your friends here?"
"Gang war between espionage groups," answered Bane bluntly. "Who's on base, Josef?"
"Only myself and Megan. Unicorn and Argent are guarding someone from a Kulan attack. Sable is at Tel Shai for testing. Perhaps we can all step into the reception room?"
"Good idea," Bane said. He headed to the first door on the left, a neatly appointed room mostly used for visitors who did not need to see too much. There was a lot of open space. To the right was a desk under a hand-painted map of the world; facing the door as one entered was a long leather couch, and a half dozen straightback chairs were scattered about. Against the left wall was a waist-high bookcase on which an aquarium filled with bizarre specimens from Ulgor sat.
Glancing at the desk, Bane turned away. He had stepped down as leader of the KDF team and did not feel it was his place to sit there again, giving orders. Instead, he motioned for everyone to arrange chairs facing each other. When all were seated, with Dandelion claiming the couch for herself, the Dire Wolf recapped the situation for Josef. In so doing, he also clarified what had been going on in everyone's minds.
"There you have it," he finished. "My plan is to lead these three here to attack BASILISK headquarters and tackle the Master Mind. The silent dog whistles are what I'm hoping will give us an edge. Finding two of them is no coincidence, right?"
Josef grinned. He missed working with Bane sometimes. "I think what we need now is our Trom Girl to get busy. Let me page her." He took his Link from his belt and thumbed a button. Instantly, a young woman's voice answered as prompt and alert as if she had been waiting for the call.
"Yes, Josef?"
"Jeremy is here with some friends. Are you curious to see what's going on?"
"On my way," answered the voice. Bane and Josef exchanged amused glances.
"So this is the headquarters of the Kenneth Dred Foundation," said Ashcroft. "I'd heard so many wild rumors! Do you know how badly our superiors ache to get in here?"
"I can imagine. But the worlds of the KDF and your MI 6 only overlap a bit here and there." Bane stood up again, perpetually restless and went over to examine the fish tank. There was the starfish with the single red eye in its center, there were the hermit crabs who had built their own little town, but the luminous squid was gone. Without turning around, he continued, "The Midnight War gives us enough to keep busy."
Megan Salenger appeared in the doorway, brushing her shock of black hair back with her fingers. She was wearing sneakers, white pants and a dark blue jersey with a one-button collar. Just thirty, her slim build and gamin face made her look quite a bit younger. As she entered, the Trom Girl allowed herself a smile. Her upbringing of repressing emotion and maintaining a deadpan demeanour had gradually been eroded by experiences with her teammates. "Captain! I am pleased to see you."
"Sorry to roust you again," Bane said. After quickly summarizing what had been going on, the Dire Wolf produced one of the little tin whistles. "So, my theory is that somehow-"
Reaching for the whistle, Megan interrupted gracelessly, "I understand. It will take a little more than a hour to fabricate signal emitters for your team. I think it will be best to program them for constant broadcast." She spun on her heel to head for the door, but Bane stopped her with a word.
"Hold on a second, Megan. While you're doing that, I think the rest of us will getting supper. What would you like on your tray?"
Despite her efforts to remain deadpan, the Trom Girl grinned. "You know me well enough, captain," she answered and hurried from the room.
Josef stood up. "Right then. I suggest we all move down to the kitchen where I will appreciate help rustling up food for everyone."
Stretching and unbuttoning his suit jacket, John Lewis Ashcroft stifled a yawn. "Allow me. You haven't experienced the glories of proper English cooking. You do have an electric kettle?"
II.
By eight, everyone had eaten and freshened up and was ready to move on. Megan Salenger came down the stairs with a box holding six metal devices the size of a pencil. They had only a single button on one end. As she handed them out, the Trom Girl announced, "The effective range of these is ten meters under normal indoor conditions. Captain, I feel I must caution you. I cannot call your working plan even a theory. It's more a wild guess that the Master Mind's hypnotic power is sonic based and can be nullified or reduced by a dog whistle."
Bane had changed into his all-black field suit with its heavy boots, pants and short jacket bristling with weapons and gadgets. He had placed his helmet to one side as he examined the little device she had handed him. "You're right. But I'm also going to fit us with high-density earplugs before we go in. And I suspect that four of us acting simultaneously will lessen the chance of the Master Mind being able to snare all of us at the same time."
From where he had been pulling back the curtain to watch 38th Street, Josef turned. "Four? Surely Megan and I are going with you, Jeremy?"
"Absolutely," Trom Girl added. "I assumed that immediately. I will change into my field suit and be right back." She rushed from the room again and could be heard running up the stairs.
Looking at the two INTERCEPT agents and the blonde assassin, Bane glanced back at Josef. "This isn't really Midnight War related, old friend, and I'm not in charge of the team anymore. When Sable returns..."
The Blind Archer scoffed. "Really. Jeremy, I thought you knew us better than that. My kit is in the front closet for instant access. Allow me to also change." In the doorway, he raised an accusing finger. "And don't dare to leave without us."
Dandelion raised one eyebrow. She had a peculiar tone in her voice, "This isn't their fight, they are not being paid extra or coerced. Yet they're sure eager to join their Dire Wolf."
"Dandelion, I know you're cynical and hard-hearted and all that. But take it from me, those two are Tel Shai knights. They believe in justice and honor and other things you laugh at."
She sniffed. "I'm just realistic, Jeremy! People always have ulterior motives."
Megan Salenger popped back in the doorway to the reception room, now wearing the snug black pants and waist-length jacket of the KDF field suit. She was wearing a bodysuit of the flexible Trom armor under her clothing identical to Bane's, and she carried a visored helmet under one arm. "Ready for duty, captain."
"Thank you, Megan. Josef should be set in a moment and then we can move out. I think we need to divide into two teams to drive in separate cars and to attack simultaneously from opposing directions. I'll take Dandelion and Ashcroft, you and Josef bring Crest there. Standard attack protocols."
"Understood." She faced Holden Crest and surveyed him critically. "You appear to be in good physical condition. I assume you are armed right now and are competent in running firefights?"
Crest blinked and caught himself. "I'm INTERCEPT's top enforcement agent. Yeah, I think I can handle myself."
"I am satisfied," she answered with complete lack of self-consciousness. Her manners never did become refined.
Josef Jubilec returned in a similar black field suit but without the helmet. He had a Y-shaped leather quiver across his back that held sixteen arrows and an unstrung yew longbow in his left hand. "Now I feel more like myself. Why is everyone still standing around?"
III.
At a few minutes past eleven, Bane stood in the gloom beside his car. He was parked off the road and studying the Westgate Building that took up most of Simmons Plaza. He adjusted the telescopic function of his helmet's visor, already using light enhancement. Quite a few windows were lit on the second floor, even though the building ostensibly closed for the night at nine, and there were six cars parked by the main entrance. It was a wide four-story building with an added wing extending out to one side, all white stone and chrome and smoky glass. A sign by the entrance from the West Side Highway was illuminated, WESTGATE COMPLEX - MEDICAL RESEARCH and in smaller letters PRIVATE PROPERTY NO TRESPASSING.
As a few minutes ticked by with Bane still peering into the night, Dandelion stirred restlessly. She had tucked her gleaming blonde hair up into a black wool cap. "Hey, Dire Wolf," she whispered, "are you awake?"
"Just getting the layout in my mind," he answered quietly. "As soon as Megan gives the signal, we'll move in."
"And what signal would that be?" asked Ashcroft, standing slightly off to one side and checking for anyone coming up behind them. As he spoke, the building and the parking lot went dark. For the barest instant, lights flickered again and then stayed out.
"She also neutralized their own generators," Bane said. "There's our signal." He raced across the parking lot toward a side entrance, not seeming to be straining but moving so quickly that Ashcroft and Dandelion were immediately left behind. At the side of the building was a single glass door with a metal bench beside it. Bane yanked it open, waited for the other two and led them inside. With his visor set to enhance, he could see well enough. Both Ashcroft and Dandelion were experienced and had adequate night vision after a minute or two.
The Dire Wolf stepped into a long hallway with offices on the left wall. To the right, the corridor widened to form the lobby. He stepped over silently, peered around the lobby and came back. With his two partners following, he began quickly checking out each office in turn. Under the signal from Megan's Trom technology, not only had the lights gone out but so had all the alarms and the electronic locks were unfastened.
Following him, Dandelion and Ashcroft were fascinated by how silently he moved. They both had undergone lots of training, but nothing like his. Tel Shai taught secrets that went back thirty thousand years. When Bane walked down the hall, even though he didn't seem to be taking any particular pains, it was like watching a movie with the sound turned off. The fourth door did not have frosted glass panels but was solid wood. Bane paused for a long moment, opened it a crack and leaned in.
Taking Ashcroft and Dandelion with him, he went inside that room and closed the door behind them. From a pocket, he produced a pencil flashlight and played its them beam around the room. There were two dining tables, a dozen folding chairs and some vending machines. On the floor, propped up against the walls, were eleven corpses.
Ashcroft and Dandelion did not gasp, they had been too well taught to do that, but they did freeze into place. Bane used the flashlight to examine the bodies. Seven men and four women, all white Americans, ages ranging from early twenties to fifties and dressed in office casual... except for two of the men who wore the yellow vests and hoods with the skull emblems of STIGMA. They had been shot multiple times at close range.
All three of them kneeled down, touching the bodies and glancing at each other. "Fresh," whispered Dandelion.
"Not even room temperature yet,"Ashcroft said in a low tone. "A few minutes earlier, we would have heard the gunshots."
"So I guess BASILISK has pulled its coup," added the Dire Wolf as he stood up.
"Not BASILISK," came a man's voice from just outside the door. Instantly, three different guns were pulled and aimed at that opening, but the voice continued, "It wasn't BASILISK who did this. John, don't you recognize me?"
"I should say so," Ashcroft replied. "But really, Harry, these are uncertain times. How do I know..."
"Listen. 'No one lives who gazes on the BASILISK.' Sound familiar?"
"All too familiar. Very well. This is Harry McClure, my former supervisor at the London office. Come in, Harry, but slowly. You're being covered."
In the dim backflash of Bane's light, a chunky middle-aged man in a tan business suit cautiously appeared. He was holding up both empty hands by his face. "Oh, I dare say, John, that's some fast company you're keeping. Dandelion? Dire Wolf? Is this an all-star team or something?" McClure's accent was much stronger than Ashcroft's faint vestige.
Bane lowered his pistol to point at the floor in front of McClure. "You said it wasn't BASILISK who did this."
"No. It was my INTERCEPT cell. We have had five agents undercover here for years now, keeping low profile and waiting for the signal." McClure waved a hand to take in the line-up of corpses. "I heard from Control an hour ago. BASILISK had destabilized the vague tentative truce between INTERCEPT and STIGMA. It was time to act."
"Truce?" asked Dandelion.
"Yes. Unofficial, of course. We still have scuffles and skirmishes, but the war has been going on long enough that the two organizations are reaching an understanding." McClure chuckled. "Happens all the time with spy agencies. But BASILISK blew that all to bloody hell."
"So your sleeper cell rose up and killed everyone." Bane stepped closer, getting a better look at McClure's eyes, reading his body language and even listening to his breathing. His Kumundu skills let him analyze the man's balance as he stood there, spotting a lack of tension across the shoulders and a slackness in the upper legs. He tentatively decided that McClure was telling the truth. "All of them?"
"As far as I know." McClure let out a breath as he saw Dandelion lower her own weapon while still fixing a murderous gaze on him. "My team is combing the rest of the building.."
Bane abruptly pressed the right ear pod of his helmet. "Megan! Stand down. Do not engage anyone, do you copy?"
"Understood, captain," came the Trom Girl's voice within his earphones. "We have not encountered anyone yet. We are in a research lab in the South Wing."
"The situation has taken an unexpected turn," he said. "I suggest you and your team withdraw and meet us at INTERCEPT headquarters. We will be leaving soon."
"Understood," came the calm clear voice. Bane lowered his hand and turned to the four agents in a room packed with fresh corpses. "Ashcroft, Dandelion, stay alert. I'm trusting this man for the moment but this whole case has been nothing but deceit and deception. McClure. What can you tell us about the Master Mind?"
"Better than that," said the pudgy man brightly. "I can bring you to him. And believe me, I'm glad you three action stars are here. I am a desk jockey by trade and I was not exactly looking forward to facing that monster."
"Take us to him, then," said Bane, still with gun drawn. He was thinking back to the report that he had read in Kenneth Dred's files decades ago. In 1967, an adventurer known as the Deacon had investigated some mysterious deaths and had uncovered an experiment by the Mandate. A man had been changed by hormone manipulation and radiation into a mutated freak with immense psychic powers. The Brain Blast had pleaded for death and the Deacon had granted him that.
In all the decades since, Bane had never heard any reports of a second Brain Blast or any similar projects. But apparently such a monster had been created and was infiltrating both INTERCEPT and STIGMA with post-hypnotic sleeper agents. The Dire Wolf felt grim as he followed agent McClure. Whether STIGMA had created this new Master Mind or whether BASILISK had started as a separate group using the monster as its weapon.. or whether the Mandate was still somehow involved, or maybe some other covert group like Intercrime was behind it.. Bane just didn't care any more. He hated dealing with espionage because the lies never stopped.
They made their way down metal stairs, still in darkness lit only by Bane's pencil flash, and down a corridor that ended in double metal doors. The Dire Wolf was remembering what Kenneth Dred had told him early on in their association, that the world of spies was "the kingdom of the lost," where loyalty was never certain and everyone was ready to rat out anyone around them. Lost souls in their own dismal world. Bane looked back at John Lewis Ashcroft and Dandelion, realizing he still only partly trusted them and had been keeping them under watch without even realizing it.
Ahead of him, McClure began to press on the horizontal bars across the doors, but stopped and turned back to Bane. "You know, even with a power failure, the generator here should have kicked in automatically. And even if THAT wasn't working, the alarms run on their own batteries. Have you somehow disabled everything electric in this building?"
"Could be," said Bane. "Let's have a look in there."
They entered a huge, high-ceilinged room with white tile walls. Banks of electronic equipment stood silent without power. In one corner was a hospital bed with oxygen mask hanging from its clear plastic tubing, an IV stand with its drip disconnected, a vital signs monitor with its screen dark. No one was in sight.
"They must have moved him!" said McClure loudly. "That was what that white van was doing outside. Quick, we have to contact INTERCEPT Control and get an APB out. We need watchers on the routes out of the city--"
"No," Bane interrupted. "I know where they took him. McClure, you stay here and finish cleaning up. The power will be back on in a moment. Ashcroft, Dandelion, we have to move fast." As he spoke, the Dire Wolf wheeled and took off at a run with his two allies following as best they could. As he hurtled up the stairs, Bane touched his earpod again and gave brief instructions to Trom Girl and her team. Then he was outside and waiting impatiently for Ashcroft and Dandelion to catch up.
IV.
Leaving the white Ford Explorer on the next block over, Megan led Crest and Josef up the sidewalk toward a second-hand furniture store called TWICE IS BETTER. In the middle of the night, traffic was sparse and no one was out on the streets. Holden Crest was in his neat dark blue suit with powder blue shirt and thin knitted silk tie, Megan Salenger and Josef Jubilic in the black KDF field suits. Megan had her helmet on, checking sensor input on the inside of the lowered visor. Josef wore the leather quiver and held his longbow on the side away from the street to lessen its visibility from First Avenue, but he remained bareheaded.
As they stood in front of the alley between the second hand store and a weathered red brick apartment building, Trom Girl paused and cocked her head, as she seemed to be listening. She said, "Understood, captain."
"What was that?" asked Crest, glancing over at her. "You folks have radios inside those helmets?"
"Jeremy advises caution. He thinks the Master Mind may have been brought here. INTERCEPT is compromised and cannot be trusted."
"Not within our HQ itself," scoffed Crest. "Come on, let's report." The dapper agent strode quickly into the mouth of the alley. Behind him, Megan turned to Josef with a reluctant shrug and they followed. The Blind Archer shifted his grip on the longbow, which he had strung as they stood there.
Closing off the end of the alley was a wooden plank fence six feet high, with two battered aluminum garbage cans. To their right was a plain wooden door that swung outward to reveal a young man who looked rather like Crest, but with reddish hair and flushed moon face. He said, "Hello, Holden, you've been expected-"
As Crest's attention was on his fellow agent, a door in the building behind him silently opened. A STIGMA assassin in the yellow vest and hood with its skull emblems extended a hand which gripped a 9mm Browning and in that instant, a three-foot arrow slid through his neck to extend on either side. The man made a hideous gagging noise and slumped to his knees, then lay face down in his spurting blood.
Crest half turned at the noise, took in the situation instantly, and lunged at the INTERCEPT agent in front of him. He drove a hard straight punch to the man's stomach, doubling him up, and then a hooking blow with the other fist that downed him. As the man fell, his own pistol dropped from a limp hand. He had been holding it by his side.
"Nice reaction time," said Jubilic as he tugged his arrow free from the body and cleaned it carefully on the man's vest.
"Thanks," Holden Crest replied absently. "The bottom floor of that building is also leased by my organization, but we seldom use it. It seems clear that STIGMA has infiltrated my agency more than I realized."
"Not just STIGMA," the Blind Archer said. "BASILISK is playing both sides against each other. It's been a three-way struggle all along. Megan?"
At only five feet four and slim in build, the Trom Girl nevertheless had a quiet confidence that put her in command. "Pitting two enemies against each other is an ancient tactic. Do both of you have your sonic jammers activated?"
"Yes."
"That gadget you gave us?" asked Crest. He took it from his jacket pocket. "Yes, it's on."
"We will enter occupied territory then." Megan touched a control pad set high on the left shoulder of her field suit. All the lights in the building next to them went out instantly, even extending to the streetlamp out on the sidewalk. She unclipped a flat metal device from her belt, holding it like a weapon, and stepped over the unconscious man into a dingy little lobby. Josef tied a black cloth around his eyes, apparently cutting off his vision altogether.
"What about this character?" asked Crest, prodding the agent with one polished Oxford toe. "Shouldn't we secure him?"
"I diagnose he will not be conscious for ten minutes, and he will be too dazed and nauseous to pose any threat after that." Megan could see clearly through the light enhancers in her visor, she opened the inner door and stepped into the ultra-modern chrome and white tile world of INTERCEPT, now shrouded in darkness instead of its usual brilliant fluorescent lighting.
They stood in a large reception room with a clear plastic desk against one wall, with built-in plastic benches and scattered chairs and a rack of magazines. Standing by the desk was a tall woman in the yellow vest and hood, and she called out into the gloom, "What happened? Our generator should have kicked in by now." She was holding a Glock 19 in both hands, and as she uncertainly raised it at the dim shapes approaching her, an arrow hissed through the air to thump home in the center of her chest.
"STIGMA killers loose in my HQ," muttered Crest. "I never thought I'd see the day."
Yanking the arrow free, Josef cleaned the razor-barbed head and unscrewed it. He tucked that piece of metal into a pouch on the side of his jacket, took a fresh arrowhead from the quiver and screwed it onto the wooden shaft. "I don't reuse a head that has killed," he told the puzzled Crest. "Just respect for the dead." Straightening up, he notched the arrow to the bowstring and said to Megan, "Lead on."
"This way," the Trom Girl answered, leading them around a corridor and down a long featureless hall. She had her visor and Josef his enhanced perception, but Holden Crest was moving in absolute darkness. After a few minutes, he grumbled, "I'm not going to be of any use like this. I have a flashlight on my key chain."
"Use it sparingly." Megan stopped before a door that was the same stainless steel as the wall, flush with its surface. A slot in a box at chest level indicated that the door was usually opened with an ID card, but she simply pressed against it and slid it easily to one side. "Crest, this is not going to be a pleasant sight for you. There has been heavy fighting here."
Peering over her shoulder, using his pencil flashlight, Holden Crest gazed into a meeting room that had nine bodies sprawled on its floor. They had just been tossed in there and left the way they had fallen, and all were covered with drying blood. Crest cursed. "Jim. And Pavel. And poor old Andreas. It looks the entire night shift, except for Mrs Claire and her bodyguard...."
"STIGMA has taken over this facility," Megan told him as gently as she could. "I'm sorry."
"Thank you," he said as he looked over the bodies. "We knew we are all expendable. It's the way the game is played." He raised his 9mm and thumbed the safety off. "As far as I can follow, our next step is to locate this so-called Master Mind. Correct?"
"Yes. Follow me." She walked briskly out into the hallway, located another barely discernible door and slid it open to reveal narrow stairs leading down. They descended two flights and found themselves at a seeming dead end. Megan pressed her fingers at a certain spot and forced open still another door against resistance, and immediately fell backwards as a flurry of shots exploded from the darkness with flashes of white light. Some of those shells struck her high on the chest, and although the Trom armor under her uniform was superior, enough impact got through to knock her down.
Holden Crest held his flashlight far to one side, extending his gun to fire but paused. There were four men in what looked like an operating theatre, and all four were on the floor with arrows protruding from their chests. Beside him, Crest glimpsed Josef Jubilic lowering his bow.
"The Blind Archer," whispered the INTERCEPT agent. "I guess the legends about you are true, then."
"Every legend has a kernel of truth at its core," Josef answered. "And this, I take it, is the infamous Master Mind."
On a narrow hospital bed, a withered child-like body raised its enormous mutated head and glared at them with murderous watery eyes.
V.
The eastern sky was just beginning to get smudgy pale light. Bane swung over to the curb behind the white Explorer and turned off his engine. "Hurry," he snapped as he leaped out from behind the wheel and sped down the block. Behind him, Ashcroft and Dandelion followed without hope of catching up. They were both in good shape but only Human. As Dandelion closed her door, the Toyota automatically locked and its alarms went active. She didn't notice, racing behind Bane as fast as she could and pulling alongside Ashcroft as they entered the alley mouth.
The red brick building which held INTERCEPT headquarters was completely dark, even the single light bulb in its glass receptacle over the side door was out. Dandelion had a Walther P22 in her right hand as she stalked in, Ashcroft slightly behind her with his own weapon drawn. They saw the door on the side of the adjoining building to their left had been left open, and a foot protruding just an inch.
Dandelion leaned over peering in and smiled grimly. "Looks like an arrow wound to me," she whispered. "Bane's archer friend has been here."
"Another STIGMA assassin," said Ashcroft. He knelt down, shoved the body further inside the second hand store and closed the door. "Bloody hell. How many are there? I thought they were a small organization."
She clucked. "Don't you get it yet? STIGMA has been inside your agency all along. Maybe since it was founded. That's why you could never make too much progress against them. Some of your superiors were protecting them."
"I don't believe it! INTERCEPT has done so much good for the world..." His voice trailed off uncertainly. The dark face was hard to read in the gloom but his hurt tones said it all.
Dandelion sounded more disgusted than usual."Stop it. You and Jeremy, you're both still seeing the world in black and white. Police are criminals, countries are all self-serving, there is no good or bad. INTERCEPT and STIGMA are just two sides of the coin and when you flip it, it doesn't matter which side comes up." She raised the silenced muzzle up alongside her face and turned toward the darkened building behind them. "You better wise up, my friend."
"I don't want to end up like you," he muttered. "I guess Bane has already gone inside." As he spoke, the lights went back on in the INTERCEPT building. In the small foyer, huddled in one corner was a redhaired man moaning and feebly struggling to sit up. Ashcroft studied him for a second, then moved toward the inner door. He slid his ID card in the slot and the shiny futuristic lobby was revealed, including a dead woman in the yellow vest and hood of STIGMA.
Crouching over the body, Ashcroft tugged up the skull-emblem hood to reveal a beautiful pale oval face with glassy staring eyes. "Natalya," he breathed. "So she was STIGMA, too. Maybe you're right, Dandy."
"Don't call me Dandy," the blonde assassin said as she headed through the open door to the corridor behind. "Where would this Master Mind be kept?"
"Well, either up in the Director's office or downstairs in the security area. From what Jeremy said, the monster needs medical support so I'm voting for downstairs." He stopped before an unmarked metal door and opened it with his ID. "Weird to see this place deserted. Usually there are people coming and going 24-7."
"Looks like that's all over," she said as she followed him down the stairs. They found the double doors to the operating theatre still open and, as they approached, the weapons swung up to cover them lowered.
Jeremy Bane stood in the doorway, next to Megan Salenger. Across the room, Josef lowered his bow and let the string slacken. Next to the bed, face white and drawn, Holden Crest ejected the clip from his gun and pocketed it before clicking a fresh one into place.
"It was what he wanted," Crest told them. "Someone had to do it."
At point-blank range, the bullets had not left much of that oversized head recognizable. Blood and brains stretched over most of the wall behind the bed. Holstering his gun beneath his left armpit, the INTERCEPT agent pulled the single sheet up from the corpse's waist level to cover the entire body. Blood immediately soaked through in a bright red blossom. "He was begging us to end his pain. He said he was a slave."
"Just like the first one, then." Bane took in the scene, still not satisfied. "His powers didn't work on you guys?"
"Certainly not," said Megan. "The scrambler signal protected us."
Crest looked older suddenly, his shoulders lowered. "What's the situation elsewhere?"
"The usual mess with spies," Bane said bluntly. "INTERCEPT took over STIGMA headquarters and STIGMA took over here, with plenty of casualties on both sides. I don't know where your chief is, or what side she's on. Or if it even matters. Tomorrow the game will start up again."
Holden Crest went over to stand beside Ashcroft, placing a hand on the man's shoulder. "We have to find Mrs Claire and report, John. At least BASILISK has lost its magical brainwasher, so they won't be able to turn our people so easily. Still, the fight's not over." He gave Bane a mournful look. "You live in a simpler world than ours, Jeremy. A world with room for heroes. Your sides are clear. You protect people against monsters and maniacs with no double-crossing and hidden agendas. I wish it was like that for us."
"Speak for yourself," said Dandelion. She took off her wool hat and shook the platinum hair down. The dark blue eyes were almost gleeful. "As long as I get paid, that's the bottom line. I'll be checking my account in the Caymans tomorrow morning, boys." She gave Bane a flippant wave of her hand. "Maybe we'll meet again, Jeremy, maybe not. No telling which end of the gunsight you'll be on, ha ha."
As she trotted lightly up the stairs, Bane shook his head. "The kingdom of the lost..."
11/9/2014
4/13/-4/14/2009
I.
Just as the sky was beginning to grow dark, Jeremy Bane eased his Toyota Matrix into an available space on East 38th Street, just past the Lexington Avenue intersection. Only a few people could be seen outside. An old man digging through litter baskets, a young couple running in matching warm-up suits, a woman carrying two big suitcases and stomping her feet in anger over something.
As that woman passed the Toyota, she had no clue that she was being intensely scrutinized by four pairs of suspicious eyes. Nor that the small blonde in the front passenger seat had her own hand on the grip of a silenced Walther P22 and was almost eager to use it at any hint that the passerby was not an innocent civilian. Behind the wheel, Bane nodded and said, "Everything looks clear to me. What do you guys think?"
In the back seat were two handsome men both around thirty, both wearing neat dark suits with white shirts and thin ties. Holden Crest, top enforcement agent for INTERCEPT, had almost movie-star good looks with wavy dark brown hair and a cleft chin. "Okay as far as I can see. John?"
Beside him, John Lewis Ashcroft from the London office took a second to confirm. He was a black man with very dark skin, short-shaven hair and a winning confident smile. "Quite. Still, one had best be on his toes."
In the passenger seat, Dandelion grumbled. Her platinum blonde hair was pulled up into a swirl on the back of her head. The most dangerous assassin of her era, she grudgingly said, "I guess. But I can't get a good look at that roof across the street..."
"I'll get out first," Bane told them. "With all of you keeping your eyes peeled, what could go wrong?" The Dire Wolf slid out from behind the steering wheel and hiked briskly up to the ten story stone building in the middle of the block. Five wide steps led up to an oaken door which had the number 28 on it and a bronze plaque, KENNETH DRED FOUNDATION. As he placed his foot on the top step, before he could press the buzzer, he was stopped by a man's voice from some concealed speaker, "Ah! Good morning, captain."
"Hi, Josef. Glad to see you're on watch."
"Please come in," answered the voice as the locks clicked the heavy door swung outward by itself. Bane waved for the others to join him. As the three agents jumped out of the car and hurried up to the steps, Bane moved inside the small foyer. It held little more than a bench, a table with magazines and a lamp. On the wall to the left was an oil portrait of a white-haired gnomish man labelled KENNETH DRED 1900-1979.
"Hold on, everyone. I know it's a tight squeeze." Bane got them all in on top of each other. A series of low humming noises and a scent of ozone were perceptible, then the man's voice continued, "All of you have positive IDS. But you know KDF policy. Those firearms have to be surrendered before the inner door opens."
"Right, Josef." Bane flipped up the seat of the bench to reveal a padded interior, into which he placed his long-barreled Smith & Wesson. "All right, all the guns in here. It's a rule."
Both Crest and Ashcroft complied, but Dandelion hesitated. She was a small woman, wearing a waist-length denim jacket, and she made no move to cooperate.
"Dandelion, you'll have to stay out here then." Bane's voice was not angry, just firm. "No one brings a gun inside."
In obvious bad temper, the blonde pulled two of the silenced Walthers from the built-in holsters inside her jacket, then got a third from the small of her back. She placed them into the bench and straightened up.
"Come on, you know better," Bane said.
Finally, she drew a tiny one-shot derringer from inside her boot and added it to the collection. As the lid closed, it locked with a decisive click. "Happy now?"
"Yeah, very happy." Bane made room as the inner door swung toward them and they saw the front hall. Standing there was the Blind Archer. Josef Jubilec was tall and lanky, dressed in a plain white T-shirt and black jeans. The muscles in his chest and arms stood out dramatically, a bit overdeveloped from a lifetime pulling a bow. Josef had short sandy hair and watchful blue eyes in a weahered face.
"Hello, captain," the Blind Archer said in his faint accent. "What brings you and your friends here?"
"Gang war between espionage groups," answered Bane bluntly. "Who's on base, Josef?"
"Only myself and Megan. Unicorn and Argent are guarding someone from a Kulan attack. Sable is at Tel Shai for testing. Perhaps we can all step into the reception room?"
"Good idea," Bane said. He headed to the first door on the left, a neatly appointed room mostly used for visitors who did not need to see too much. There was a lot of open space. To the right was a desk under a hand-painted map of the world; facing the door as one entered was a long leather couch, and a half dozen straightback chairs were scattered about. Against the left wall was a waist-high bookcase on which an aquarium filled with bizarre specimens from Ulgor sat.
Glancing at the desk, Bane turned away. He had stepped down as leader of the KDF team and did not feel it was his place to sit there again, giving orders. Instead, he motioned for everyone to arrange chairs facing each other. When all were seated, with Dandelion claiming the couch for herself, the Dire Wolf recapped the situation for Josef. In so doing, he also clarified what had been going on in everyone's minds.
"There you have it," he finished. "My plan is to lead these three here to attack BASILISK headquarters and tackle the Master Mind. The silent dog whistles are what I'm hoping will give us an edge. Finding two of them is no coincidence, right?"
Josef grinned. He missed working with Bane sometimes. "I think what we need now is our Trom Girl to get busy. Let me page her." He took his Link from his belt and thumbed a button. Instantly, a young woman's voice answered as prompt and alert as if she had been waiting for the call.
"Yes, Josef?"
"Jeremy is here with some friends. Are you curious to see what's going on?"
"On my way," answered the voice. Bane and Josef exchanged amused glances.
"So this is the headquarters of the Kenneth Dred Foundation," said Ashcroft. "I'd heard so many wild rumors! Do you know how badly our superiors ache to get in here?"
"I can imagine. But the worlds of the KDF and your MI 6 only overlap a bit here and there." Bane stood up again, perpetually restless and went over to examine the fish tank. There was the starfish with the single red eye in its center, there were the hermit crabs who had built their own little town, but the luminous squid was gone. Without turning around, he continued, "The Midnight War gives us enough to keep busy."
Megan Salenger appeared in the doorway, brushing her shock of black hair back with her fingers. She was wearing sneakers, white pants and a dark blue jersey with a one-button collar. Just thirty, her slim build and gamin face made her look quite a bit younger. As she entered, the Trom Girl allowed herself a smile. Her upbringing of repressing emotion and maintaining a deadpan demeanour had gradually been eroded by experiences with her teammates. "Captain! I am pleased to see you."
"Sorry to roust you again," Bane said. After quickly summarizing what had been going on, the Dire Wolf produced one of the little tin whistles. "So, my theory is that somehow-"
Reaching for the whistle, Megan interrupted gracelessly, "I understand. It will take a little more than a hour to fabricate signal emitters for your team. I think it will be best to program them for constant broadcast." She spun on her heel to head for the door, but Bane stopped her with a word.
"Hold on a second, Megan. While you're doing that, I think the rest of us will getting supper. What would you like on your tray?"
Despite her efforts to remain deadpan, the Trom Girl grinned. "You know me well enough, captain," she answered and hurried from the room.
Josef stood up. "Right then. I suggest we all move down to the kitchen where I will appreciate help rustling up food for everyone."
Stretching and unbuttoning his suit jacket, John Lewis Ashcroft stifled a yawn. "Allow me. You haven't experienced the glories of proper English cooking. You do have an electric kettle?"
II.
By eight, everyone had eaten and freshened up and was ready to move on. Megan Salenger came down the stairs with a box holding six metal devices the size of a pencil. They had only a single button on one end. As she handed them out, the Trom Girl announced, "The effective range of these is ten meters under normal indoor conditions. Captain, I feel I must caution you. I cannot call your working plan even a theory. It's more a wild guess that the Master Mind's hypnotic power is sonic based and can be nullified or reduced by a dog whistle."
Bane had changed into his all-black field suit with its heavy boots, pants and short jacket bristling with weapons and gadgets. He had placed his helmet to one side as he examined the little device she had handed him. "You're right. But I'm also going to fit us with high-density earplugs before we go in. And I suspect that four of us acting simultaneously will lessen the chance of the Master Mind being able to snare all of us at the same time."
From where he had been pulling back the curtain to watch 38th Street, Josef turned. "Four? Surely Megan and I are going with you, Jeremy?"
"Absolutely," Trom Girl added. "I assumed that immediately. I will change into my field suit and be right back." She rushed from the room again and could be heard running up the stairs.
Looking at the two INTERCEPT agents and the blonde assassin, Bane glanced back at Josef. "This isn't really Midnight War related, old friend, and I'm not in charge of the team anymore. When Sable returns..."
The Blind Archer scoffed. "Really. Jeremy, I thought you knew us better than that. My kit is in the front closet for instant access. Allow me to also change." In the doorway, he raised an accusing finger. "And don't dare to leave without us."
Dandelion raised one eyebrow. She had a peculiar tone in her voice, "This isn't their fight, they are not being paid extra or coerced. Yet they're sure eager to join their Dire Wolf."
"Dandelion, I know you're cynical and hard-hearted and all that. But take it from me, those two are Tel Shai knights. They believe in justice and honor and other things you laugh at."
She sniffed. "I'm just realistic, Jeremy! People always have ulterior motives."
Megan Salenger popped back in the doorway to the reception room, now wearing the snug black pants and waist-length jacket of the KDF field suit. She was wearing a bodysuit of the flexible Trom armor under her clothing identical to Bane's, and she carried a visored helmet under one arm. "Ready for duty, captain."
"Thank you, Megan. Josef should be set in a moment and then we can move out. I think we need to divide into two teams to drive in separate cars and to attack simultaneously from opposing directions. I'll take Dandelion and Ashcroft, you and Josef bring Crest there. Standard attack protocols."
"Understood." She faced Holden Crest and surveyed him critically. "You appear to be in good physical condition. I assume you are armed right now and are competent in running firefights?"
Crest blinked and caught himself. "I'm INTERCEPT's top enforcement agent. Yeah, I think I can handle myself."
"I am satisfied," she answered with complete lack of self-consciousness. Her manners never did become refined.
Josef Jubilec returned in a similar black field suit but without the helmet. He had a Y-shaped leather quiver across his back that held sixteen arrows and an unstrung yew longbow in his left hand. "Now I feel more like myself. Why is everyone still standing around?"
III.
At a few minutes past eleven, Bane stood in the gloom beside his car. He was parked off the road and studying the Westgate Building that took up most of Simmons Plaza. He adjusted the telescopic function of his helmet's visor, already using light enhancement. Quite a few windows were lit on the second floor, even though the building ostensibly closed for the night at nine, and there were six cars parked by the main entrance. It was a wide four-story building with an added wing extending out to one side, all white stone and chrome and smoky glass. A sign by the entrance from the West Side Highway was illuminated, WESTGATE COMPLEX - MEDICAL RESEARCH and in smaller letters PRIVATE PROPERTY NO TRESPASSING.
As a few minutes ticked by with Bane still peering into the night, Dandelion stirred restlessly. She had tucked her gleaming blonde hair up into a black wool cap. "Hey, Dire Wolf," she whispered, "are you awake?"
"Just getting the layout in my mind," he answered quietly. "As soon as Megan gives the signal, we'll move in."
"And what signal would that be?" asked Ashcroft, standing slightly off to one side and checking for anyone coming up behind them. As he spoke, the building and the parking lot went dark. For the barest instant, lights flickered again and then stayed out.
"She also neutralized their own generators," Bane said. "There's our signal." He raced across the parking lot toward a side entrance, not seeming to be straining but moving so quickly that Ashcroft and Dandelion were immediately left behind. At the side of the building was a single glass door with a metal bench beside it. Bane yanked it open, waited for the other two and led them inside. With his visor set to enhance, he could see well enough. Both Ashcroft and Dandelion were experienced and had adequate night vision after a minute or two.
The Dire Wolf stepped into a long hallway with offices on the left wall. To the right, the corridor widened to form the lobby. He stepped over silently, peered around the lobby and came back. With his two partners following, he began quickly checking out each office in turn. Under the signal from Megan's Trom technology, not only had the lights gone out but so had all the alarms and the electronic locks were unfastened.
Following him, Dandelion and Ashcroft were fascinated by how silently he moved. They both had undergone lots of training, but nothing like his. Tel Shai taught secrets that went back thirty thousand years. When Bane walked down the hall, even though he didn't seem to be taking any particular pains, it was like watching a movie with the sound turned off. The fourth door did not have frosted glass panels but was solid wood. Bane paused for a long moment, opened it a crack and leaned in.
Taking Ashcroft and Dandelion with him, he went inside that room and closed the door behind them. From a pocket, he produced a pencil flashlight and played its them beam around the room. There were two dining tables, a dozen folding chairs and some vending machines. On the floor, propped up against the walls, were eleven corpses.
Ashcroft and Dandelion did not gasp, they had been too well taught to do that, but they did freeze into place. Bane used the flashlight to examine the bodies. Seven men and four women, all white Americans, ages ranging from early twenties to fifties and dressed in office casual... except for two of the men who wore the yellow vests and hoods with the skull emblems of STIGMA. They had been shot multiple times at close range.
All three of them kneeled down, touching the bodies and glancing at each other. "Fresh," whispered Dandelion.
"Not even room temperature yet,"Ashcroft said in a low tone. "A few minutes earlier, we would have heard the gunshots."
"So I guess BASILISK has pulled its coup," added the Dire Wolf as he stood up.
"Not BASILISK," came a man's voice from just outside the door. Instantly, three different guns were pulled and aimed at that opening, but the voice continued, "It wasn't BASILISK who did this. John, don't you recognize me?"
"I should say so," Ashcroft replied. "But really, Harry, these are uncertain times. How do I know..."
"Listen. 'No one lives who gazes on the BASILISK.' Sound familiar?"
"All too familiar. Very well. This is Harry McClure, my former supervisor at the London office. Come in, Harry, but slowly. You're being covered."
In the dim backflash of Bane's light, a chunky middle-aged man in a tan business suit cautiously appeared. He was holding up both empty hands by his face. "Oh, I dare say, John, that's some fast company you're keeping. Dandelion? Dire Wolf? Is this an all-star team or something?" McClure's accent was much stronger than Ashcroft's faint vestige.
Bane lowered his pistol to point at the floor in front of McClure. "You said it wasn't BASILISK who did this."
"No. It was my INTERCEPT cell. We have had five agents undercover here for years now, keeping low profile and waiting for the signal." McClure waved a hand to take in the line-up of corpses. "I heard from Control an hour ago. BASILISK had destabilized the vague tentative truce between INTERCEPT and STIGMA. It was time to act."
"Truce?" asked Dandelion.
"Yes. Unofficial, of course. We still have scuffles and skirmishes, but the war has been going on long enough that the two organizations are reaching an understanding." McClure chuckled. "Happens all the time with spy agencies. But BASILISK blew that all to bloody hell."
"So your sleeper cell rose up and killed everyone." Bane stepped closer, getting a better look at McClure's eyes, reading his body language and even listening to his breathing. His Kumundu skills let him analyze the man's balance as he stood there, spotting a lack of tension across the shoulders and a slackness in the upper legs. He tentatively decided that McClure was telling the truth. "All of them?"
"As far as I know." McClure let out a breath as he saw Dandelion lower her own weapon while still fixing a murderous gaze on him. "My team is combing the rest of the building.."
Bane abruptly pressed the right ear pod of his helmet. "Megan! Stand down. Do not engage anyone, do you copy?"
"Understood, captain," came the Trom Girl's voice within his earphones. "We have not encountered anyone yet. We are in a research lab in the South Wing."
"The situation has taken an unexpected turn," he said. "I suggest you and your team withdraw and meet us at INTERCEPT headquarters. We will be leaving soon."
"Understood," came the calm clear voice. Bane lowered his hand and turned to the four agents in a room packed with fresh corpses. "Ashcroft, Dandelion, stay alert. I'm trusting this man for the moment but this whole case has been nothing but deceit and deception. McClure. What can you tell us about the Master Mind?"
"Better than that," said the pudgy man brightly. "I can bring you to him. And believe me, I'm glad you three action stars are here. I am a desk jockey by trade and I was not exactly looking forward to facing that monster."
"Take us to him, then," said Bane, still with gun drawn. He was thinking back to the report that he had read in Kenneth Dred's files decades ago. In 1967, an adventurer known as the Deacon had investigated some mysterious deaths and had uncovered an experiment by the Mandate. A man had been changed by hormone manipulation and radiation into a mutated freak with immense psychic powers. The Brain Blast had pleaded for death and the Deacon had granted him that.
In all the decades since, Bane had never heard any reports of a second Brain Blast or any similar projects. But apparently such a monster had been created and was infiltrating both INTERCEPT and STIGMA with post-hypnotic sleeper agents. The Dire Wolf felt grim as he followed agent McClure. Whether STIGMA had created this new Master Mind or whether BASILISK had started as a separate group using the monster as its weapon.. or whether the Mandate was still somehow involved, or maybe some other covert group like Intercrime was behind it.. Bane just didn't care any more. He hated dealing with espionage because the lies never stopped.
They made their way down metal stairs, still in darkness lit only by Bane's pencil flash, and down a corridor that ended in double metal doors. The Dire Wolf was remembering what Kenneth Dred had told him early on in their association, that the world of spies was "the kingdom of the lost," where loyalty was never certain and everyone was ready to rat out anyone around them. Lost souls in their own dismal world. Bane looked back at John Lewis Ashcroft and Dandelion, realizing he still only partly trusted them and had been keeping them under watch without even realizing it.
Ahead of him, McClure began to press on the horizontal bars across the doors, but stopped and turned back to Bane. "You know, even with a power failure, the generator here should have kicked in automatically. And even if THAT wasn't working, the alarms run on their own batteries. Have you somehow disabled everything electric in this building?"
"Could be," said Bane. "Let's have a look in there."
They entered a huge, high-ceilinged room with white tile walls. Banks of electronic equipment stood silent without power. In one corner was a hospital bed with oxygen mask hanging from its clear plastic tubing, an IV stand with its drip disconnected, a vital signs monitor with its screen dark. No one was in sight.
"They must have moved him!" said McClure loudly. "That was what that white van was doing outside. Quick, we have to contact INTERCEPT Control and get an APB out. We need watchers on the routes out of the city--"
"No," Bane interrupted. "I know where they took him. McClure, you stay here and finish cleaning up. The power will be back on in a moment. Ashcroft, Dandelion, we have to move fast." As he spoke, the Dire Wolf wheeled and took off at a run with his two allies following as best they could. As he hurtled up the stairs, Bane touched his earpod again and gave brief instructions to Trom Girl and her team. Then he was outside and waiting impatiently for Ashcroft and Dandelion to catch up.
IV.
Leaving the white Ford Explorer on the next block over, Megan led Crest and Josef up the sidewalk toward a second-hand furniture store called TWICE IS BETTER. In the middle of the night, traffic was sparse and no one was out on the streets. Holden Crest was in his neat dark blue suit with powder blue shirt and thin knitted silk tie, Megan Salenger and Josef Jubilic in the black KDF field suits. Megan had her helmet on, checking sensor input on the inside of the lowered visor. Josef wore the leather quiver and held his longbow on the side away from the street to lessen its visibility from First Avenue, but he remained bareheaded.
As they stood in front of the alley between the second hand store and a weathered red brick apartment building, Trom Girl paused and cocked her head, as she seemed to be listening. She said, "Understood, captain."
"What was that?" asked Crest, glancing over at her. "You folks have radios inside those helmets?"
"Jeremy advises caution. He thinks the Master Mind may have been brought here. INTERCEPT is compromised and cannot be trusted."
"Not within our HQ itself," scoffed Crest. "Come on, let's report." The dapper agent strode quickly into the mouth of the alley. Behind him, Megan turned to Josef with a reluctant shrug and they followed. The Blind Archer shifted his grip on the longbow, which he had strung as they stood there.
Closing off the end of the alley was a wooden plank fence six feet high, with two battered aluminum garbage cans. To their right was a plain wooden door that swung outward to reveal a young man who looked rather like Crest, but with reddish hair and flushed moon face. He said, "Hello, Holden, you've been expected-"
As Crest's attention was on his fellow agent, a door in the building behind him silently opened. A STIGMA assassin in the yellow vest and hood with its skull emblems extended a hand which gripped a 9mm Browning and in that instant, a three-foot arrow slid through his neck to extend on either side. The man made a hideous gagging noise and slumped to his knees, then lay face down in his spurting blood.
Crest half turned at the noise, took in the situation instantly, and lunged at the INTERCEPT agent in front of him. He drove a hard straight punch to the man's stomach, doubling him up, and then a hooking blow with the other fist that downed him. As the man fell, his own pistol dropped from a limp hand. He had been holding it by his side.
"Nice reaction time," said Jubilic as he tugged his arrow free from the body and cleaned it carefully on the man's vest.
"Thanks," Holden Crest replied absently. "The bottom floor of that building is also leased by my organization, but we seldom use it. It seems clear that STIGMA has infiltrated my agency more than I realized."
"Not just STIGMA," the Blind Archer said. "BASILISK is playing both sides against each other. It's been a three-way struggle all along. Megan?"
At only five feet four and slim in build, the Trom Girl nevertheless had a quiet confidence that put her in command. "Pitting two enemies against each other is an ancient tactic. Do both of you have your sonic jammers activated?"
"Yes."
"That gadget you gave us?" asked Crest. He took it from his jacket pocket. "Yes, it's on."
"We will enter occupied territory then." Megan touched a control pad set high on the left shoulder of her field suit. All the lights in the building next to them went out instantly, even extending to the streetlamp out on the sidewalk. She unclipped a flat metal device from her belt, holding it like a weapon, and stepped over the unconscious man into a dingy little lobby. Josef tied a black cloth around his eyes, apparently cutting off his vision altogether.
"What about this character?" asked Crest, prodding the agent with one polished Oxford toe. "Shouldn't we secure him?"
"I diagnose he will not be conscious for ten minutes, and he will be too dazed and nauseous to pose any threat after that." Megan could see clearly through the light enhancers in her visor, she opened the inner door and stepped into the ultra-modern chrome and white tile world of INTERCEPT, now shrouded in darkness instead of its usual brilliant fluorescent lighting.
They stood in a large reception room with a clear plastic desk against one wall, with built-in plastic benches and scattered chairs and a rack of magazines. Standing by the desk was a tall woman in the yellow vest and hood, and she called out into the gloom, "What happened? Our generator should have kicked in by now." She was holding a Glock 19 in both hands, and as she uncertainly raised it at the dim shapes approaching her, an arrow hissed through the air to thump home in the center of her chest.
"STIGMA killers loose in my HQ," muttered Crest. "I never thought I'd see the day."
Yanking the arrow free, Josef cleaned the razor-barbed head and unscrewed it. He tucked that piece of metal into a pouch on the side of his jacket, took a fresh arrowhead from the quiver and screwed it onto the wooden shaft. "I don't reuse a head that has killed," he told the puzzled Crest. "Just respect for the dead." Straightening up, he notched the arrow to the bowstring and said to Megan, "Lead on."
"This way," the Trom Girl answered, leading them around a corridor and down a long featureless hall. She had her visor and Josef his enhanced perception, but Holden Crest was moving in absolute darkness. After a few minutes, he grumbled, "I'm not going to be of any use like this. I have a flashlight on my key chain."
"Use it sparingly." Megan stopped before a door that was the same stainless steel as the wall, flush with its surface. A slot in a box at chest level indicated that the door was usually opened with an ID card, but she simply pressed against it and slid it easily to one side. "Crest, this is not going to be a pleasant sight for you. There has been heavy fighting here."
Peering over her shoulder, using his pencil flashlight, Holden Crest gazed into a meeting room that had nine bodies sprawled on its floor. They had just been tossed in there and left the way they had fallen, and all were covered with drying blood. Crest cursed. "Jim. And Pavel. And poor old Andreas. It looks the entire night shift, except for Mrs Claire and her bodyguard...."
"STIGMA has taken over this facility," Megan told him as gently as she could. "I'm sorry."
"Thank you," he said as he looked over the bodies. "We knew we are all expendable. It's the way the game is played." He raised his 9mm and thumbed the safety off. "As far as I can follow, our next step is to locate this so-called Master Mind. Correct?"
"Yes. Follow me." She walked briskly out into the hallway, located another barely discernible door and slid it open to reveal narrow stairs leading down. They descended two flights and found themselves at a seeming dead end. Megan pressed her fingers at a certain spot and forced open still another door against resistance, and immediately fell backwards as a flurry of shots exploded from the darkness with flashes of white light. Some of those shells struck her high on the chest, and although the Trom armor under her uniform was superior, enough impact got through to knock her down.
Holden Crest held his flashlight far to one side, extending his gun to fire but paused. There were four men in what looked like an operating theatre, and all four were on the floor with arrows protruding from their chests. Beside him, Crest glimpsed Josef Jubilic lowering his bow.
"The Blind Archer," whispered the INTERCEPT agent. "I guess the legends about you are true, then."
"Every legend has a kernel of truth at its core," Josef answered. "And this, I take it, is the infamous Master Mind."
On a narrow hospital bed, a withered child-like body raised its enormous mutated head and glared at them with murderous watery eyes.
V.
The eastern sky was just beginning to get smudgy pale light. Bane swung over to the curb behind the white Explorer and turned off his engine. "Hurry," he snapped as he leaped out from behind the wheel and sped down the block. Behind him, Ashcroft and Dandelion followed without hope of catching up. They were both in good shape but only Human. As Dandelion closed her door, the Toyota automatically locked and its alarms went active. She didn't notice, racing behind Bane as fast as she could and pulling alongside Ashcroft as they entered the alley mouth.
The red brick building which held INTERCEPT headquarters was completely dark, even the single light bulb in its glass receptacle over the side door was out. Dandelion had a Walther P22 in her right hand as she stalked in, Ashcroft slightly behind her with his own weapon drawn. They saw the door on the side of the adjoining building to their left had been left open, and a foot protruding just an inch.
Dandelion leaned over peering in and smiled grimly. "Looks like an arrow wound to me," she whispered. "Bane's archer friend has been here."
"Another STIGMA assassin," said Ashcroft. He knelt down, shoved the body further inside the second hand store and closed the door. "Bloody hell. How many are there? I thought they were a small organization."
She clucked. "Don't you get it yet? STIGMA has been inside your agency all along. Maybe since it was founded. That's why you could never make too much progress against them. Some of your superiors were protecting them."
"I don't believe it! INTERCEPT has done so much good for the world..." His voice trailed off uncertainly. The dark face was hard to read in the gloom but his hurt tones said it all.
Dandelion sounded more disgusted than usual."Stop it. You and Jeremy, you're both still seeing the world in black and white. Police are criminals, countries are all self-serving, there is no good or bad. INTERCEPT and STIGMA are just two sides of the coin and when you flip it, it doesn't matter which side comes up." She raised the silenced muzzle up alongside her face and turned toward the darkened building behind them. "You better wise up, my friend."
"I don't want to end up like you," he muttered. "I guess Bane has already gone inside." As he spoke, the lights went back on in the INTERCEPT building. In the small foyer, huddled in one corner was a redhaired man moaning and feebly struggling to sit up. Ashcroft studied him for a second, then moved toward the inner door. He slid his ID card in the slot and the shiny futuristic lobby was revealed, including a dead woman in the yellow vest and hood of STIGMA.
Crouching over the body, Ashcroft tugged up the skull-emblem hood to reveal a beautiful pale oval face with glassy staring eyes. "Natalya," he breathed. "So she was STIGMA, too. Maybe you're right, Dandy."
"Don't call me Dandy," the blonde assassin said as she headed through the open door to the corridor behind. "Where would this Master Mind be kept?"
"Well, either up in the Director's office or downstairs in the security area. From what Jeremy said, the monster needs medical support so I'm voting for downstairs." He stopped before an unmarked metal door and opened it with his ID. "Weird to see this place deserted. Usually there are people coming and going 24-7."
"Looks like that's all over," she said as she followed him down the stairs. They found the double doors to the operating theatre still open and, as they approached, the weapons swung up to cover them lowered.
Jeremy Bane stood in the doorway, next to Megan Salenger. Across the room, Josef lowered his bow and let the string slacken. Next to the bed, face white and drawn, Holden Crest ejected the clip from his gun and pocketed it before clicking a fresh one into place.
"It was what he wanted," Crest told them. "Someone had to do it."
At point-blank range, the bullets had not left much of that oversized head recognizable. Blood and brains stretched over most of the wall behind the bed. Holstering his gun beneath his left armpit, the INTERCEPT agent pulled the single sheet up from the corpse's waist level to cover the entire body. Blood immediately soaked through in a bright red blossom. "He was begging us to end his pain. He said he was a slave."
"Just like the first one, then." Bane took in the scene, still not satisfied. "His powers didn't work on you guys?"
"Certainly not," said Megan. "The scrambler signal protected us."
Crest looked older suddenly, his shoulders lowered. "What's the situation elsewhere?"
"The usual mess with spies," Bane said bluntly. "INTERCEPT took over STIGMA headquarters and STIGMA took over here, with plenty of casualties on both sides. I don't know where your chief is, or what side she's on. Or if it even matters. Tomorrow the game will start up again."
Holden Crest went over to stand beside Ashcroft, placing a hand on the man's shoulder. "We have to find Mrs Claire and report, John. At least BASILISK has lost its magical brainwasher, so they won't be able to turn our people so easily. Still, the fight's not over." He gave Bane a mournful look. "You live in a simpler world than ours, Jeremy. A world with room for heroes. Your sides are clear. You protect people against monsters and maniacs with no double-crossing and hidden agendas. I wish it was like that for us."
"Speak for yourself," said Dandelion. She took off her wool hat and shook the platinum hair down. The dark blue eyes were almost gleeful. "As long as I get paid, that's the bottom line. I'll be checking my account in the Caymans tomorrow morning, boys." She gave Bane a flippant wave of her hand. "Maybe we'll meet again, Jeremy, maybe not. No telling which end of the gunsight you'll be on, ha ha."
As she trotted lightly up the stairs, Bane shook his head. "The kingdom of the lost..."
11/9/2014
