"Dancing On Quicksand"
May. 27th, 2022 09:03 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dochermes"Dancing On Quicksand"
(1988)
4/20-4/23/1988
I.
Deep in the hills of Virginia was a complex of modern office buildings forty miles from the nearest town. The security was intense but not obvious. The observation cameras and armed sentries watched from behind one-way glass panels, and an untrained eye could not have detected the microphones, pressure-sensitive road plates, proximity alarms and heat-detecting sensors built in the grounds. Cheval saw all of them. She turned up the corners of her mouth in a tiny smile, and her huge dark eyes reflected her amusement. Gadgets. But, to be fair, she admitted to herself that it was only her inborn gralic power which put her in a position to scorn gadgets. These people were only Humans trying to win against long odds.
The black limousine DRAGONWING rolled silently onto the mile-long driveway. Behind the wheel was Cheng Wong-Lai. He wore his traditional chaffeur uniform, complete with flap-front coat, gloves and billet cap. The young Chinese warrior glanced at the complex instruments on the dashboard and said, "We are being probed, captain. Electronic sensors at state of art level." A lifetime of travelhad left him with no accent.
Cheval, on the other hand, still deliberately retained a faint hint in her vioice of her French-Canadian origins because many men found it appealing. "Can they penetrate, Chen?"
"No. Not this car, with our Trom shielding."
Cheval leaned back against against the deep leather of the rear seat. She wore a simple blouse, skirt and blazer of dark blue that flattered her petite figure withot being obvious. "So far, Trom have kept ahead of Human advances," she said.
Next to Chen in the front was Kwali, a big athletic black African. He wore a well-tailored European-style suit with crisp white shirt and solid maroon tie. His hair was cropped close to the skull, emphasizing the strength in his somber, unsmiling face. The Danarakan watched a sign on a post go past. ADVANCED SECURITY RESEARCH -NO ACCESS BEYOND THiS POINT and his bright green eyes narrowed.
"Cheval," he rumbled in his deep, sullen voice. "I have never been able to make distinctions between the American intelligence services. CIA, NSA, ASR, NERA, they all seem to be just arms of the same beast."
"Perhaps they are just that," she answered. "Many masks over the one face. We are facing masters of deceit and deception, my friend."
The driveway ended at a long one-story building, with other smaller structures arrayed behind it. Chen slowed as he passed between two head-high stone pillars and came to a stop in the center of an open concrete circle, brilliantly lit even in the dead of night. Spaced along the outer walls of the building were enclosed observation stations and each of the three KDF members sensed weapons trained on them as they got out of the car.
From mounted speakers came a pleasant, mellow male voice, "Welcome to Advanced Security Research. Please step away from your vehicle and identify yourself."
"Let's play their little game," muttered Cheval. Kwali towered over both his teammates, but he and Chen flanked their captain immediately. "Three members of the Kenneth Dred Foundation," she announced at normal conversational level. Cheval. Chen Wong-Lai. Bakwanga Kwali. We are here as requested."
"IDs confirmed," said the voice. "Please proceed through the gate to your left. Your vehicle may remain where it is. Thank you and have a nice day."
"Nice day!" grumbled Chen. "Four-thirty AM is hardly the usual time for briefings. Sunday morning, at that."
"Steady, little dragon," Cheval said, touching his arm lightly.
"Very well," the Chinese fighter complied. Removing his cap and tucking it under one arm, he thumbed a control patch of the door handle of the DRAGONWING and the car sealed itself. Let them try to get into my baby, he thought with satisfaction. They'd need cutting torches.
The three KDF members walked to a doorway which unlocked with a series of clicks and hissed open on its own. A man stood with folded arms in the antechamber. He was tall, sleek, with jet black hair and dark, watchful eyes. Even Cheval could not spot the gun which she knew must be concealed somewhere under that neat tan suit. The man did not offer to shake hands but his voice was polite. "Good of you to come. My name is Dennis Ortiz, First Assistant in Operations. Please come with me." He led them to a pair of doors, one of which opened as he slid a plastic card into a slot. It was an elevator, unexpected enough in a one-story building. As the door hissed shut, he tapped on the control panel and the cage descended. After a full minute of going down in the earth, they emerged into a white tile lobby, cool and dry and antiseptic. Everything in the ASR seemed to be too brightly lit.
Behind a reception counter sat a middle-aged woman with auburn hair and thick glasses, typing away on a keyboard. She gave them each a triangular ID badge, which they clipped on their clothing and Ortiz led the way through sliding door and down a corridor. finally taking them through yet another sliding door without markings into a large private office. White-walled and beige-carpeted, the office had slightly more subdued lighting than the usual ASR glare. The furnishings were ordinary, even bland. From behind a steel desk topped with computer monitor and bank of phones, a thin man rose and came around to meet them.
"Hello, Corrine," he began but she cut him off.
"Cheval, my dear, always Cheval."
"How are you this morning?" he continued as if she had not spoken. "It must be three years, far too long be inactive from the field."
She gave him her sweetest smile. "I've been employed in related work. Howard, I am certain you know all about my two partners, Kwali and Chen. This is Howard Lamb, Special Projects Director for the ASR."
Everyone shooks hands and mumbled the proper greetings. Kwali towered over everyone. He was four inches taller than the six-foot Ortiz and the others were shorter yet. Cheval was not much over five feet high. Lamb motioned his visitors to seat theselves in three plastic chairs which were arranged before a projection screen built into a wall. "Let me be honest with you from the start. Advanced Security Research is an agency of the federal government. That government and the nation which it serves are our concern."
Lamb came around to stand in front of them, hands behind his back. He was of medium height and build, perhaps a bit too thin to be healthy, in his late forties. Two things kept him from being handsome. His nose and long and pointed enough to be distracting and he spoke from the corner of one mouth as thought his face had been hurt at some point. "Cheval, I have to admit that we were told not to call the KDF in on this. Higher-ups in this agency warned that your group is a loose cannon on the deck. A wild card in the deck. But what I know of you convinced me that you and your team were the best possible choice to bring in as consultants."
He continued, "I will say that the various agencies do not have much information on the Kenneth Dred Foundation. We know who Kenneth Dred himself was, of course. A well-known author on the occult who wrote more than forty books in his lifetime and who did work for the OSS during the war. We know his protege, a man who calls himself Jeremy Bane, inherited Dred's fortune of two hundred million dollars and established the KDF in September 1979. Now, on the surface, the KDF is non-profitmaking research organization investigating the paranormal. Strange sightings, wild talents, that sort of thing. But it has always been more than that. All along, the KDf has been asked to help apprehend dangerous criminals. Bane personally has apprehended serial killers like Samhain and Seneca. Andrew Steel and the late Michael Hawk vouched for the KDF and their considerable clout helped give the group great independence to operate freely." He paused.
Cheval said nothing, listening politely. She did not intend to correct his misconception, but Cheval was neither an official KDF member or a knight of Tel Shai. She had met and worked with Jeremy Bane, who respected her enough to hire her to train new KDF members. When they were ready, she went back to her own affairs. Dennis Ortiz had come to stand where they could see him.
Beginning to pace slowly, Lamb continued, still speaking from the left corner of his mouth. "What concerns intelligence agencies is all the mystery surrounding the KDf. Bodies turn up wherever your group is active. There are many reports of unexplained phenomena wherever your group appears, too bizarre to believe but too documented to just be discounted. The real purpose of the KDF remains a tantalizing mystery." He took a deep breath. "As a colleague and friend, Cheval, allow me to give a word of advice. Get clearance for your group. Have your Director, Jeremy Bane, establish a working relationship with the proper authorities before there is trouble. We know that you have tangled with Intercrime, with the empires of Wu Lung and Arem Kamende. I fear the KGB or other foreign services will step in, too."
She gave one of her rare laughs, a low pleasant chuckle. With her gamin haircut and large eyes, Cheval often seemed like a teenager although she was in her thirties, "I will discuss it with my captain, Howard. But now you must get to why you have asked my team of drive out here before dawn on,lj-cut a Sunday morning."
II.
"Secrecy. This is important, Cheval. I know that Mr Chen and Mr Kwali have been cleared for basic security purposes. Indeed, if I may say so, Mr Kwali has such a fine record over the past seven years that he might be cleared higher if he wished."
"You are too kind," the huge African said flatly.
"Not at all. Your tribe, the Bakwanga of Danarak, has been respected for generations for sending their champion out into the world. In the united States alone, you are credited with apprehending twenty-nine public enemies and we suspect you have caught many more anonymously. My agency has directed me to ask the KDF to help bring in one more dangerous criminal. This person, known as 'Peril',is wanted for questioning. All of our efforts have failed. Since there is much about her which seems beyond normal possibility, we have turned to acknowledged experts on the inexplicable.. that is, you people.
"I am going to show you a short piece of video, less than a minute. It was taken by our hidden cameras two days ago to record what was intended to be a set-up. Our agents were to meet the representatives of a West Coast criminal network, selling information for cash. As this extract begins, our men are negotiating with theirs. We'll run it in slow-motion and then at normal speed." He lifted a remote control. The room dimmed but did not go completely dark and the screen lit up.
The film showed a small courtyard at the back of an old building which appeared to be a restaurant. Parked by the door was a late model dark sedan. Standing in a loose cluster were eight men who seemed verty much alike in size and build, as if the demands of their profession had homogenized them. All were big, formidable-looking, eyeing each other like wild beasts at a waterhole. Two were arguing. They gestured with extended gestures of slow-motion, which made them seem to be underwater.
At the same instant, both men twitched convulsively and fell. Each had something about four inches long sticking out his neck. As the dying men sagged to the ground, the others went for guns in their belts or shoulder holsters, turning with the long stretched-out movement on each other. The slow-motion made the next few minutes a strangely graceful nightmare, a ballet of murder.
From the roof of the building, a figure dropped to the car and then to the ground, diving directly inbetween the two groups of men. She was moving at normal speed, which meant that in reality she must have been amazingly fast and the contrast between her and the others was striking. She was dressed in a tight black jumpsuit with calf-high boots. A belt hanging low on one hip supported a holster and something was strapped diagonally across her back; her forearms had wide cuffs with metal strips running from wrist to elbow.
For an instant, Peril stood poised after landing and it could be seen she was beautiful. Tall, with a slim dancer's body, she had wavy black hair that reached her shoulders, fashion model features and a mouth with a pouting upper lip. The expression on her face was serious and focussed but not angry. In the next second, the men reacted, their mouths contorted as they shouted. She had landed deliberately in the middle of their circle. They made no attempt to shoot her because a bullet would go on to hit someone else behind her. Evidently she counted on this.
One hand came up behind her to seized the end of a stick which showed over one shoulder, yanking out a strange weapon from its harness on her back. Two hardwood rods thirteen each long,wrapped with black electrician's tape and joined with a length of chain. The watching KDf members felt a jolt of anticipartion. The nunchaku was a versatile weapon but surely this woman did not think she was going to survive using it against six gunmen.
Peril dropped the closest man with a shattered jaw, spun the nunchaku and slashed it out to send a .357 Magnum spinning away, then smacked the next man in the forehead to kill him instantly. Another pistol clattered away, as she jabbed her weapon with sticks together to snap his wrist. Now the gunmen were reacting fully. Only four were still on their feet and one was out of action for the moment with a broken wrist that had his full attention.
The woman in black lunged at an opponent, spinning him around with a lethal blow from the nunchaku that twisted his head around forty-five degrees and sprayed teeth and blood. The biggest gunman had stepped back just out of reach and managed to take aim. Peril twisted one rod of her weapon and a blade ten inches long popped out of the lower end; in the same smooth motion, she whipped the other rod to send the blade part deep into the man's chest. The gunman stared down stupidly and sagged to his knees.
Only one unharmed enemy was left. Rather than tug her weapon free, she released it and pivotted to face him, but a second too late. The gunman fired, a white flare erupting from his automatic. At that range, the heavy .45 slug hit like a sledgehammer to throw her to the ground. The impact was high on her chest, near the collarbone, and would likely be fatal. The impact would sent waves through her body to damage organs and put her into shock. A person of her size and build would be lucky to live long enough to get medical treatment,
Yet even as she was flung back by the impact, her own pistol was in her hand, snatched from its flap holster. It gave no muzzle flash at all. The gunman convulsed wildly, throwing both arms up and leaping off the ground as if he had been electrocuted. Blood spurted from his open mouth.
Stiffly, Peril got up on her feet. A dark glitter down her jumpsuit showed where the blood was flowing. It was impossible for someone without some sort of body armor to carry on after taking a point-blank hit from a .45 and most people would have passed out or died right then. She straightened and faced the man whose wrist she had broken. He clearly could not believe what he had witnessed in the previous forty seconds. Still clutching forearm, he tried to edge toward one of the fallen guns.
The woman in black saw this and smiled coldly. Holstering her own pistol and snapping the flap down, she stalking toward the man. Apparently her massive wound did not trouble her in the slightest. As the man went to grab the pistol on the ground, she intercepted him with a knee to the chest that hurled him back, then spun on that descending leg to smash him in the face with a reverse crescent kick. After he fell, she ignored him.
Peril retrieved her weapons, including the throwing blades, and cleaned them on the corpse's clothing. As far as could be seen, the bullet had passed through her body entirely, leaving a hole in the front and back of her jumpsuit. But the bleeding had stopped and she moved smoothly. Judging by the look on her face, she was not even in any discomfort. The woman in black surveyed the carnage, glanced up and seemed to spot the camera. Her hand dropped to her holster and the screen went black.
"And now at regular speed," Lamb said. The time, the effect of the video clip was stunning. Knowing what was going to happen, the KDF members analyzed different aspects of the killings. At normal speed, the ASR agents and the criminal gunmen were seen to be moving normally. It was just that Peril was a dark blur of precise action, every move as smooth as if she had practiced nothing else for years.
When the screen clicked off and the room light came back up, Harold Lamb said,"I would appreciate any comments."
Chen Wong-Lai said, "Whew. She has been well trained. They must have started her in childhood. I see several areas of influence in weaponry and techniques. Japanese, Okinawan, Northern China. That fast draw is American though, no other nationality has such a flair with firearms."
"She does not wear armor under that leather suit," Kwali offered in his careful way. "I saw her take a point blank from a .45 automatic. The bullet passed cleanly through her upper torso, yet she kept fighting and the wound did not hinder her after the initial trauma. Therefore, she has some ehanced healing, possibly gralic related."
"Gralic...?" asked Lamb.
"Something not in your way of looking at the world," said Kwali. His green eyes stood out in the dark face. "It is a transcendantal force, not related to physics. There are those who can draw on it to affect many procesess...oh, just think of it as magick, if you will."
"I see. Cheval?"
"That firearm she used. It looks handcrafted to me, I don't recognize it," Cheval said.
"It does seem to be a custom-made model. Very well silenced, the flash suppressor is handmade as well. It fires what are actually subminiature bombs-- cartridges filled with thiny shell shot in liquid suspension. When the shell pierces the victim, it explodes and dozens of the pellets ricochet around inside the body. Rips the entire insides to pulp. What's more, the liquid inside the cartridges is a snake venom distillate."
"This Peril is thorough," Cheval admitted. "There is not much chance of anyone surviving even a grazing wound."
"No, I guess not. She could kill a rhino with that thing."
"And how many men has she taken?"
Lamb stirred uneasily. "Twenty within the past two months, counting the four in that clip. The number of Intercrime men she has killed is thought to be larger."
Chen turned to look at his captain and Kwali,then back at Lamb. "Why 'Peril?' Where does that name come from?"
"She gave it to herself. She carves it into surfaces at her killings. Once, on a victim's chest." Lamb put desperation in his voice but it did not quite sound sincere. "We have gotten nowhere. Cheval, will you and your team help us?"
The petite woman thought for the barest moment. "There is much which needs to be explained here. Yes. We will investigate. I will report our progress, Howard." She rose and her two teammates followed.
"I will have our best man go with you, as liasion. Jack Spiegel."
"No, that will not do. We have our own methods, our own approach. Thank you anyway."
"I must insist," Lamb said. "It's standard procedure."
"Then you can proceed without us," answered Cheval quietly. "There are other cases for us to tackle."
Lamb seemed prepared to argue, then gave in. "I suppose. Good luck to you all." He glanced at Dennis Ortiz, who moved to escort the KDF members back outside the building. After they left, Howard Lamb grumbled to his himself and said, "Spiegel."
A panel slid open behind his desk to reveal a hidden niche and a man in a dark blue suit stepped out. He had dark hair and eyes, with a weathered, outdoorsy face. In one hand he held out the photos he had taken.
Inspecting the pictures, Lamb said, "What's this? What are those white patches on Chen and Kwali?"
Spiegel raised one eyebrow. "I wondered too, chief. Each man wears something under his clothing which burns out a spot on the film. As if it were a light too intense to record. But I watched them and saw nothing of the sort. Something radioactive?"
"No. That would just fog the film and overexpose the whole reel. I think it's that mysterious power Kwali mentioned. Gralic force, whatever it may be." He glared up at the taller man. "Send the head of the Manacle department. Tell Ordinance to begin production of the isolation tank and bomb attachment."
"I'll have to wake them."
"Then wake them. You have your orders, agent."
"Very good, sir." Spiegel turned on his heel and left the office.
Going back to his desk, Harold Lamb turned on his computer and opened a new file. He headed it POTENTIAL THREAT: KENNETH DRED FOUNDATION. TO BE TAKEN AND EXAMINED. and then he added, PRIORITY FOR THE MANDATE.
III.
The headquarters building on East 38th Street was not the only property that the KDF owned. Hawk island, off the coast of Maine, was where the new members were trained, and Bane maintained a rundown apartment near Chinatown that was kept as secret as possible. it was intended to be used when an enemy got the upper hand or if (as had happened) a member was being searched for by the police. But Bane did not want to start a network of bases or anything like that. Aside from the cost and the headaches of logitstics, he just thought they would never be used. So, when Cheval brought her partners back to Richmond, they pulled into the parking lot of a motel from a moderate chain. They had booked two adjoining rooms, although Cheval certainly had been through expeditions to desert or jungle realms with her team to be beyond any personal modesty. She told them to sleep until they felt ready and they would take it from there.
By eleven, all three had woken, showered and changed. They went to the motel restaurant for breakfast, and despite her small size, she kept up with them. She had skipped supper the night before to started on the trip here. Kwali had brought packets of dried tagra leaves and they stirred these into mugs of hot water.
As her two partners came up for air, Cheval watched them affectionately. She had never worked with people she could trust during her espionage years. It was comforting. "We must get going, my friends," she said. "I fear today will involve basic detective work, tedious but unavaoidable."
Kwali was done. He wiped his mouth with a napkin and said, "Cheval, once we arrive at the scene of her last appearance, my tracking power will put us on her trail. Should we not go there directly?"
"No, I want to know a little about her first. I feel there is much we do not understand about the situation. And of course, in spycraft, no agency can be trusted to tell the truth. Lamb may be using us as fall guys or as expendable executioners."
Chen went for one last sausage. "This is what I dislike most about the Midnight War. Fighting is fun, but research is only work."
For the rest of that day, they seperated and called on their various contacts. Cheval did not need transportation, of course, with her power of teleportation. She was skilled enough to unobtrusively appear in hallways and alleys unobserved,then walk over to call on someone. Kwali took taxis around the city to some extent, but did most of his search over the phone. It was Chen who took the DRAGONWING around the city and the surrounding area, visiting sifus and senseis he knew. At dusk, the three regrouped at the motel to discuss their findings. For a solid hour, they talked rapidly and compared notes. At seven-thirty, Chen and Kwali while sitting on the small couch in their room while Cheval took a chair and said, "These are our conclusions, then...
"A young American woman, around twenty-five years old. White, with black hair and green eyes. Five feet seven inches tall, one hundred and thirty pounds. Her name is variously given as Donna Warren, Fonda Sherwood, Mona Sherman.
"The woman has studied weapons with Herman Santangelo, a Filipino escrima master. She practiced marksmanship at the Emblem Gun Club. She pays in cash, the addresses she gives do not check out.
"All say she is serious, reserved and unfriendly. She stopped showing up immediately after the first Peril sighting.
"No official records match any combination of this woman's name and appearance. No IRS return, no drivers license. This could mean that her true identity has been carefully erased from the record, that in the language of espionage work, she is a 'non-person.' "
Kwali interrupted, "Of course, some of our sources may be misleading us."
"Of course. That is the curse of intelligence work. It is like dancing on quicksand. Now, the first Peril incident was typical of those that followed. She ambushed and wiped out a three-man team of ASR agents on their way to the airport. In each instance, no civilians are involved and, except for that last incident we saw on the video, no one is ever spared. There is no torture, just quick kills. She is known to take cash from her victims but nothing else. She leaves the word Peril somewhere on the scene with no explanation.
"What interests me is that she attacks agents of Advanced Security Research and no one else. No demands, no threats, extortion is not present. She may be in the employ of Intercrime or other criminal organizations, or she may be playing both sides against each other. Where she is getting her information is hard to figure out, too. She must be someone deeply involved in espionage."
Chen sat up. For that day, he was wearing regular jeans and white polo shirt. "It seems strange, then, that Harold Lamb could not identify her."
"He may be lying and know who she is. Or she may have had plastic surgery or is wearing a disguise. There are so many variables." Cheval sighed slightly. "Probably, we could locate her in time by watching places where she might show up to maintain her skills-- other dojos or firing ranges- or by setting traps that use ASR men as bait. That may take months and lead nowhere."
"Fortunately," broke in Kwali. ""We have an option not available to anyone else. Wakimbe's Claw!" The big African warrior touched the talisman he always wore under his clothing. "Tonight we will hunt."
An hour later, the three were standing in the area behind the Maison Blanc restaurant, which looked exactly as it had in the video. Despite intensive scrubbing and bleaching, bloodstains remained bloodstains.. unmistakable and disturbing. Cheval was in her field suit; boots, tight pants and snug waist-length jacket of tough material, all black. She had not brought the helmet. She had the usual weapons, including the anesthetic dart gun holstered by her side but she never felt comfortable in the outfit and wore a light beige topcoat to conceal it as much as possible. All of her experience led her to try to be inconspicuous.
Cheng Wong-Lai wore a modern version of the hooded uniform his father Chen Lee-Sun had made famous in the 1940s as the original Dragon of Midnight. The younger Chen had modernized it to some extent, mostly in the weapons he had adapted from what the KDF offered. The powered wristbands shot needle-thin darts with silent air pressure- anesthetic darts from the right wrist, explosive ones from the right. On the front of a full-face stiff cloth mask was the silver outline of a dragon. Under his shirt, he kept the dragon pendant that allowed him brief insoldity. It was this talisman which had the gralic charge that had shown on the photos surreptitiously taken of him at the ASR facility.
As for Kwali, he shrugged off a simple knee-length robe of brown cotton to reveal the black stalking suit that had been for worn for generations by the Bakwanga mystics who bore the Cat's-Claw talisman. It was a simple tunic and pants which left his legs bare from the calves down and his forearms bare from the elbows down. His body as revealed by the clinging cotton was certainly impressive, both muscular and lithe. It was not weight lifting that made him that way but the strenuous life he led. Like Chen, he carried an ancient talisman on a chain around his neck and he drew this out now.
The Cat's-Claw was just that, a claw seven inches long, glossy black and visibly shimmering with gralic force. Over thirty thousand years old, this was a relic of the Corruption on Ulgor that began the Midnight War before the beginning of revealed history. It was generally believed that the talisman was a literal claw from the body of Wakimbe, the great sorceror who had been able to assume giant lion form and who had passed this on to his spiritual descendants.
To the Bakwanga, the Black Lion was their totem, a revered ancestor whose guidance and protection was sought. They did not consider him a real god in the pantheon but rather their own personal spirit. Kwali had passed the grueling and even vicious trials of mind and body when the previous holder had died. He earned the Cat's-Claw just before his sixteenth birthday and accepted the burden. Since then, his had been a life of service traveling the world and the adjacent realms in pursuit of bandits and tyrants. The story of how he had fought with Jeremy Bane and then become allies involved his own countryman, Arem Kamende, one of the great threats of that era. Feeling a chance to gain valuable skills and establish himself with the authorities, Kwali had become a knight of Tel Shai and, for the moment, a KDF member.
Now, in that courtyard where six men had been killed just three nights earlier, he dangled the ancient talisman in front of his closed eyes, letting his mind relax, waiting for the connection and feeling his senses expand...
He straightened and his bright green eyes snapped open. When he spoke, his deep rumbling voice was lit with excitement. "I have the scent!"
IV.
Normally, Kwali was a self-possessed disciplined man but he had changed dramatically as he caught the trail left by Peril.The big African warrior hurried to the black sedan DRAGONWING with Cheval and Chen following. He plunged into the passenger seat as Cheval got in the back and Chen Wong-Lai slid behind the wheel. The silent motor surged and the car leaped away and tore onto the street before Chen had any idea where they were going.
In the rear seat, Cheval ventured to say, "You seem eager, Kwali."
"We have little time to spare. I can sense it. Violence boils in her spirit and Peril is aching to kill." The African avenger tucked the Cat's-Claw back under his tunic. He had forgotten his robe back there but he did not want to go back for it. The black car tore through the darkened streets. Within minutes they had reached a quiet and rather upper-class residential street when Kwali spoke. "Here, Chen, pull over."
Three figures in black slipped from the car and stepped silently down the empty sidewalk. Despite all her training and practice, Cheval admitted she could not compete with her two partners when it came to stealth. At the end of the street was a walled gate that read WILTWYCK CEMETERY, and as they watched a red VW bus rolled past them and into that parking lot. As it stopped, a woman slid out from the driver seat and stepped around out of sight. In the second she was visible, she was revealed as tall, with curly black hair down to her shoulders, wearing a dark coat that reached her knees.
Chen and Kwali vaulted the low wall far apartment from each other, two masters of stealth. Watching from beneath a tree half a block away, Cheval lost sight of her two partners. They are well matched, she thought, twin shadows at home in darkness. But, she thought, I have my own gifts. Cheval blinked out of existence and was standing next to the wall. Her skill at gating was so refined and controlled that there was neither noise or light as she instantly traveled from one spot to another. Crouching next to the chest high sign, the KDF team leader put her hand on the butt of her dart gun and held her breath. There was no sign anyone was nearby.
Already inside that cemetery were two long black cars, parking at right angles to each other. As Peril stepped out of her van, three men stood up inside the wall, cutting off her retreat. Four stepped around the cars and encircled her. They were dressed like SWAT officers, complete with Kevlar armor breastplates and helmets with clear faceshields. They carried assault rifles and held them up at the ready.
"Your informer won't be coming," announced one of the men in an angry voice."He's already in Hell."
Peril stood motionless, not even her head turning. "Say hi to him for me."
"It's over, bitch. We have no use for renegades and traitors!"
"Some things," she said slowly, "deserve to be betrayed." She put one foot out to the side and balanced herself,but she had not raised her hands. As fast as she was, she could not hope to reach the cover of her van before hundreds of bullets tore through her.
Then the roar of a hunting lion blasted across the cemetery, echoing for miles in the night. It was so unexpected and loud that every person there gave a start and looked wildly around. A huge dark form leaped up onto the roof of the VW van and dove directly into a cluster of four armed men. Kwali's knotted fist snapped one gunman's head around so fast that the neck snapped. The Danarakan warrior seized one ASR man's arm and pulled him into an openhand slap that dropped him senseless to the ground. As yet, none of them had recovered from the shock of that roar coming out of the darkness and Kwali took full advantage of it. At that point, the two remaining had gotten their balance and reacted to this attacker. They raised their assault rifles but Kwali struck faster than their fingers could squeeze the triggers. The giant African backhanded the nearest gunman so hard that his knuckles shattered the plexiglass visor of that unlucky man's visor. He reeled drunkenly and fell backwards. Only one remained. He should have fired, he had time, but he caught a glimpser of green eyes that belonged on a great cat of the savannah. The sight paralyzed him. Kwali seized the man's wrist in an iron grip and yanked his arm straight up, out of the socket. The ASR agent screamed for one second before a big open hand came down like an axe across his neck. The weilder of Cat's-Claw dropped the body to the cemetery dirt.
Behind him, Peril stood over the three ASR gunmen who had stood up by the border wall. She had one rod of the nunchaku in her left hand, the other tucked under her arm, and she had the handcrafted silenced pistol in her other hand. Its wide barrel pointed at Kwali without a tremor. "Nice dancing," she said. "Who ARE you?"
The African hero straightened up and stepped away from the corpses. "I am Bakwanga Kwali of Danarak. Heir of Wakimbe!"
"Kwali? Kwali. Yes, I've heard of you. What's your game?"
"My... game, as you call it? My game is to walk the world hunting bandits and tyrants, protecting those who need protection and striking down those who deserve it."
When the woman named Peril smiled, she became gorgeous. Perfect white teeth flashed in the gloom. "Really. Oh my God. Well, maybe you can explain a few things..."
She was interrupted as a black-uniformed masked man seized her from behind, grabbing her gunhand and yanking it straight up and wrenching her weapon away. Instantly, Peril whipped the nunchaku around to his head, but Chen was already blocking with his forearm, deflecting the club before it could build up any speed. From behind, he drove his foot into the back of her knee, following her down and pinning her with both of her arms held up behind her.
"You're good," said the Dragon of Midnight, "but a little predictable."
Cheval blinked in from the wall around the cemetery. She had been watching for any outside movement, cars going by or signs of further ASR reinforcements. Now she knelt beside where Chen had Peril pinned down. The mystery woman was putting up resistance, twisting and trying to get free and giving Chen quite a struggle.
"Relax, my dear," Cheval said. "We are not more enemies. We are here to help you. That's it, settle down."
The beautiful face twisted around and the green eyes widened. "Cheval...?!"
"You know me? Wait. Oh God, Kristin! Is that you?"
Suddenly, unexpectedly, Peril collapsed. She sagged loose to the ground and hid her face. After a second, she said, "I WAS Kristin. There is no more Kristin. I don't know who I am anymore."
Cheval motioned Chen to let the woman go and helped Peril sit up. "Kristin, I thought you were dead."
"I might as well be!" screamed Peril. "I might as well be." She got to one knee and stood up. "Cheval. You were always straight with me. If I could trust anyone in this filthy game, it would be you."
The KDF leader had her hands on the mystery woman's arms, not restraining but comforting. "I left my agency. You must have heard. The deceit, the manipulation, I was sick of it all. Now I am working with the Kenneth Dred Foundation."
"I've heard of them. Ghostbusters. Monster chasers. Oh, Cheval, what are you doing here? Let me finishing killing these scum so I can die in peace."
"I want to help you. Is that your van?"
"No, it's stolen."
"Come with us," Cheval said. "You know who Kwali is. You have heard of the Dragon of Midnight, here he is, as well."
Peril stared dazedly. "You guys are just stories agents tell. Tall tales. But here... let's go. I'll go with you."
Leaving the dead bodies, knowing that Advanced Security Research would have a few mop-up agents coming to take away any evidence, Cheval led everyone back to the DRAGONWING. Peril got in the back seat with her, Chen spun the long car around and tore off into the night as Peril began spilling her story.
IV.
"You were always good to me, Cheval. Everyone else used me one way or another." Peril looked at the two men in front. "I used to be Kristin Tierney. There's not much left of Kristin. I was recruited right out of college for ASR. I was young and a fool and I believed I was serving my country. They told me I volunteered for the Peril experiment. Maybe I did, I don't remember now. They took me apart and put me together different. I never looked anything like this."
"Plastic surgery?" asked Chen.
"Plastic surgery is only the beginning. They break down your mind and reshape it. They gave me a synthetic enzyme that ramped up my healing factor. We are canalized agents. The idea was that we would have no memories and no outside interests, our lives would be dedicated to the job. I know they killed my family."
"Your own agency did that?"
"Yes. So I would have nowhere to go. I found out, in a file I was not supposed to see. They had made me into a killing machine and I decided they deserved to have that machine go after them. They are worse than the enemies they are supposed to be fighting."
Cheval was hugging the distraught woman. "You are still Kristin. I remember you. I recognized you."
"My memories can't be trusted. I went to the school I remember attending and there was never a school there! There are so many lies, I can't trust anything I remember. I can't count on what happened five minutes ago."
"Dancing on quicksand," Cheval said. "I know. Kristin, Harold Lamb tried to use us. He asked us to track down Peril and bring her in. He can go to the hell he deserves. Come with us. We will take you anywhere in the world and you can start over. Maybe a small quiet town where no one has ever heard of espionage..."
Peril hugged the smaller woman. "it's too late for that. Do you know how many government men I've killed? I'm on borrowed time as it is. All I can do is take as many with me as I can."
"I don't accept that. No." Cheval held the woman. "We need to end this so you can move on. Listen, I have an idea..."
V.
At one-thirty in the morning, the black Lincoln that had been rebuilt into DRAGONWING rolled along the mile-long driveway and pulled up in front of the ASR complex. Chen Wong-Lai got out and answered the questions put to him by the voice from the speakers. Kwali went to the back seat and removed the limp form of Peril, carrying her across his huge chest like a child.
A man in a light grey suit came to meet them, not Dennis Ortiz from the day before but someone nearly identical. He ushered them into the building.
"Where's Cheval?" he asked as they went into the elevator. "We were expecting to hear from her."
"Some loose ends," Chen answered. He had removed the mask and was carrying the nunchaku and special pistol that belonged to Peril. They went past the desk where now a young man was sitting who gave them ID badges and eventually were shown into Harold Lamb's office.
Fully dressed, shaved, groomed, Lamb gave no sign he had been asleep in his apartment on the floor below just a few minutes earlier. He had years of experience at being rousted. As Chen and kwali came in, the director of the ASR was just taking his seat behind the steel desk. "Well, that was quick work," he said.
"We do our best," Chen replied. "Cheval will be along shortly."
"Very good. Was she.. Peril.. harmed? Can she talk?"
An ominous undertone edged Kwali's voice. "She has already talked."
Harold Lamb tried to smile and failed. He seemed preoccupied by a tiny flashing red light on his desk, but got back to Kwali. "Really. I'd be interested in hearing more. Spiegel, come in please."
the wall panel slid sideways and the man called Spiegel stood up. There was nothing in that cubicle but a short built-in bench, giving the impression he did nothing but sit in there on call. Spiegel came over and stood by Lamb's right side as Kwali let Peril get on her feet. She glared murderously at the two ASR men.
"You betrayed us," Lamb muttered. He had his hand beneath the edge of his desk and he glanced down at it in diappointment, then slammed his other hand down on a panel on the rear of that desk. His face was comical in its exaggerated disappointment.
Standing up, he reached behind him and come up with a small spike-nose pistol no bigger than a .22 in caliber.
Cheval was suddenly standing next to him. Lamb screamed and fell over his own chair at the surprise. She had not snuck up on him, she had just popped in from literally nowhere. As he scrambled back up to his feet, he thrust the pistol forward and it clicked harmlessly.
"There are no bullets in your toy," she said quietly. "None of your killing gadgets will work in this room. The blinding laser net, the vomit gas, the spray of needles... none of them. I was in here for half an hour disarming everything."
"This can't be true! It's impossible."
"You may wish it were impossible, Lamb. Remember when we met at the CIA years ago? You asked me what my special gift was, how did I infiltrate installations so easily. Well, now you know." As she said the last word, Cheval was not standing next to him but was over by her teammates. The expressions that chased each other around his face settled into craftiness, "You have a wild talent. You can teleport?"
"Just so. And I think I understand now. This whole facility, all the staff and equipment, is not really a section of the Defense Department. You work for an agency established to be able to deal with those of us with special gifts. The Mandate."
Lamb had lost his rigid control. His face was red and his chest moving up and down. For the first time, there was actual emotion in his voice. "The defense of this nation is our responsibility. You- you freaks can not be controlled. You can not be countered. All the reports we have collected of the supernatural show the greatest threat to the United States is people like you."
"No," Peril said quietly. "It's people like you." Before anyone could react, she had lunged across the room and punched Lamb in the jaw so hard his head turned around to look almost over his own shoulder. Spiegel reacted instincively, his hand diving inside his suit jacket for the gun that must be there but Peril caught him with the backhand from the same fist that had felled his boss, spinning him around. He staggered and she stepped in to shove his face down onto her upraised knee. He would not be getting up from that right away.
Green eyes glaring, Peril spun back toward the others. "Leave me with these people for a moment, Cheval."
Chen and Kwali did not speak but were watching her sadly. After a pause, Cheval sighed and shook her head, "Harold Lamb is already dead. Look at him." It was true. He was lying with open eyes, head twisted too far around to be natural.
Peril sagged and went to drop into one of the chairs. All energy seemed to have left her at seeing that.
"Now there will be a new Director of Advanced Security Research. Perhaps that Ortiz fellow, perhaps someone just like him. It's pointless to kill these people or to prosecute them. They are replaced. Espionage is like the police and the military, sad but necessary facts of life."
Leaning forward with her head down, Peril gazed up. Cheval went on, "Even if the AsR or the Mandate was completely dismantled, another agency would just step in to fill the void. I'm sorry, Kristin."
"I'm sorry, too," said Peril as she finally started to cry over all she had lost.
4/18/2013
(1988)
4/20-4/23/1988
I.
Deep in the hills of Virginia was a complex of modern office buildings forty miles from the nearest town. The security was intense but not obvious. The observation cameras and armed sentries watched from behind one-way glass panels, and an untrained eye could not have detected the microphones, pressure-sensitive road plates, proximity alarms and heat-detecting sensors built in the grounds. Cheval saw all of them. She turned up the corners of her mouth in a tiny smile, and her huge dark eyes reflected her amusement. Gadgets. But, to be fair, she admitted to herself that it was only her inborn gralic power which put her in a position to scorn gadgets. These people were only Humans trying to win against long odds.
The black limousine DRAGONWING rolled silently onto the mile-long driveway. Behind the wheel was Cheng Wong-Lai. He wore his traditional chaffeur uniform, complete with flap-front coat, gloves and billet cap. The young Chinese warrior glanced at the complex instruments on the dashboard and said, "We are being probed, captain. Electronic sensors at state of art level." A lifetime of travelhad left him with no accent.
Cheval, on the other hand, still deliberately retained a faint hint in her vioice of her French-Canadian origins because many men found it appealing. "Can they penetrate, Chen?"
"No. Not this car, with our Trom shielding."
Cheval leaned back against against the deep leather of the rear seat. She wore a simple blouse, skirt and blazer of dark blue that flattered her petite figure withot being obvious. "So far, Trom have kept ahead of Human advances," she said.
Next to Chen in the front was Kwali, a big athletic black African. He wore a well-tailored European-style suit with crisp white shirt and solid maroon tie. His hair was cropped close to the skull, emphasizing the strength in his somber, unsmiling face. The Danarakan watched a sign on a post go past. ADVANCED SECURITY RESEARCH -NO ACCESS BEYOND THiS POINT and his bright green eyes narrowed.
"Cheval," he rumbled in his deep, sullen voice. "I have never been able to make distinctions between the American intelligence services. CIA, NSA, ASR, NERA, they all seem to be just arms of the same beast."
"Perhaps they are just that," she answered. "Many masks over the one face. We are facing masters of deceit and deception, my friend."
The driveway ended at a long one-story building, with other smaller structures arrayed behind it. Chen slowed as he passed between two head-high stone pillars and came to a stop in the center of an open concrete circle, brilliantly lit even in the dead of night. Spaced along the outer walls of the building were enclosed observation stations and each of the three KDF members sensed weapons trained on them as they got out of the car.
From mounted speakers came a pleasant, mellow male voice, "Welcome to Advanced Security Research. Please step away from your vehicle and identify yourself."
"Let's play their little game," muttered Cheval. Kwali towered over both his teammates, but he and Chen flanked their captain immediately. "Three members of the Kenneth Dred Foundation," she announced at normal conversational level. Cheval. Chen Wong-Lai. Bakwanga Kwali. We are here as requested."
"IDs confirmed," said the voice. "Please proceed through the gate to your left. Your vehicle may remain where it is. Thank you and have a nice day."
"Nice day!" grumbled Chen. "Four-thirty AM is hardly the usual time for briefings. Sunday morning, at that."
"Steady, little dragon," Cheval said, touching his arm lightly.
"Very well," the Chinese fighter complied. Removing his cap and tucking it under one arm, he thumbed a control patch of the door handle of the DRAGONWING and the car sealed itself. Let them try to get into my baby, he thought with satisfaction. They'd need cutting torches.
The three KDF members walked to a doorway which unlocked with a series of clicks and hissed open on its own. A man stood with folded arms in the antechamber. He was tall, sleek, with jet black hair and dark, watchful eyes. Even Cheval could not spot the gun which she knew must be concealed somewhere under that neat tan suit. The man did not offer to shake hands but his voice was polite. "Good of you to come. My name is Dennis Ortiz, First Assistant in Operations. Please come with me." He led them to a pair of doors, one of which opened as he slid a plastic card into a slot. It was an elevator, unexpected enough in a one-story building. As the door hissed shut, he tapped on the control panel and the cage descended. After a full minute of going down in the earth, they emerged into a white tile lobby, cool and dry and antiseptic. Everything in the ASR seemed to be too brightly lit.
Behind a reception counter sat a middle-aged woman with auburn hair and thick glasses, typing away on a keyboard. She gave them each a triangular ID badge, which they clipped on their clothing and Ortiz led the way through sliding door and down a corridor. finally taking them through yet another sliding door without markings into a large private office. White-walled and beige-carpeted, the office had slightly more subdued lighting than the usual ASR glare. The furnishings were ordinary, even bland. From behind a steel desk topped with computer monitor and bank of phones, a thin man rose and came around to meet them.
"Hello, Corrine," he began but she cut him off.
"Cheval, my dear, always Cheval."
"How are you this morning?" he continued as if she had not spoken. "It must be three years, far too long be inactive from the field."
She gave him her sweetest smile. "I've been employed in related work. Howard, I am certain you know all about my two partners, Kwali and Chen. This is Howard Lamb, Special Projects Director for the ASR."
Everyone shooks hands and mumbled the proper greetings. Kwali towered over everyone. He was four inches taller than the six-foot Ortiz and the others were shorter yet. Cheval was not much over five feet high. Lamb motioned his visitors to seat theselves in three plastic chairs which were arranged before a projection screen built into a wall. "Let me be honest with you from the start. Advanced Security Research is an agency of the federal government. That government and the nation which it serves are our concern."
Lamb came around to stand in front of them, hands behind his back. He was of medium height and build, perhaps a bit too thin to be healthy, in his late forties. Two things kept him from being handsome. His nose and long and pointed enough to be distracting and he spoke from the corner of one mouth as thought his face had been hurt at some point. "Cheval, I have to admit that we were told not to call the KDF in on this. Higher-ups in this agency warned that your group is a loose cannon on the deck. A wild card in the deck. But what I know of you convinced me that you and your team were the best possible choice to bring in as consultants."
He continued, "I will say that the various agencies do not have much information on the Kenneth Dred Foundation. We know who Kenneth Dred himself was, of course. A well-known author on the occult who wrote more than forty books in his lifetime and who did work for the OSS during the war. We know his protege, a man who calls himself Jeremy Bane, inherited Dred's fortune of two hundred million dollars and established the KDF in September 1979. Now, on the surface, the KDF is non-profitmaking research organization investigating the paranormal. Strange sightings, wild talents, that sort of thing. But it has always been more than that. All along, the KDf has been asked to help apprehend dangerous criminals. Bane personally has apprehended serial killers like Samhain and Seneca. Andrew Steel and the late Michael Hawk vouched for the KDF and their considerable clout helped give the group great independence to operate freely." He paused.
Cheval said nothing, listening politely. She did not intend to correct his misconception, but Cheval was neither an official KDF member or a knight of Tel Shai. She had met and worked with Jeremy Bane, who respected her enough to hire her to train new KDF members. When they were ready, she went back to her own affairs. Dennis Ortiz had come to stand where they could see him.
Beginning to pace slowly, Lamb continued, still speaking from the left corner of his mouth. "What concerns intelligence agencies is all the mystery surrounding the KDf. Bodies turn up wherever your group is active. There are many reports of unexplained phenomena wherever your group appears, too bizarre to believe but too documented to just be discounted. The real purpose of the KDF remains a tantalizing mystery." He took a deep breath. "As a colleague and friend, Cheval, allow me to give a word of advice. Get clearance for your group. Have your Director, Jeremy Bane, establish a working relationship with the proper authorities before there is trouble. We know that you have tangled with Intercrime, with the empires of Wu Lung and Arem Kamende. I fear the KGB or other foreign services will step in, too."
She gave one of her rare laughs, a low pleasant chuckle. With her gamin haircut and large eyes, Cheval often seemed like a teenager although she was in her thirties, "I will discuss it with my captain, Howard. But now you must get to why you have asked my team of drive out here before dawn on,lj-cut a Sunday morning."
II.
"Secrecy. This is important, Cheval. I know that Mr Chen and Mr Kwali have been cleared for basic security purposes. Indeed, if I may say so, Mr Kwali has such a fine record over the past seven years that he might be cleared higher if he wished."
"You are too kind," the huge African said flatly.
"Not at all. Your tribe, the Bakwanga of Danarak, has been respected for generations for sending their champion out into the world. In the united States alone, you are credited with apprehending twenty-nine public enemies and we suspect you have caught many more anonymously. My agency has directed me to ask the KDF to help bring in one more dangerous criminal. This person, known as 'Peril',is wanted for questioning. All of our efforts have failed. Since there is much about her which seems beyond normal possibility, we have turned to acknowledged experts on the inexplicable.. that is, you people.
"I am going to show you a short piece of video, less than a minute. It was taken by our hidden cameras two days ago to record what was intended to be a set-up. Our agents were to meet the representatives of a West Coast criminal network, selling information for cash. As this extract begins, our men are negotiating with theirs. We'll run it in slow-motion and then at normal speed." He lifted a remote control. The room dimmed but did not go completely dark and the screen lit up.
The film showed a small courtyard at the back of an old building which appeared to be a restaurant. Parked by the door was a late model dark sedan. Standing in a loose cluster were eight men who seemed verty much alike in size and build, as if the demands of their profession had homogenized them. All were big, formidable-looking, eyeing each other like wild beasts at a waterhole. Two were arguing. They gestured with extended gestures of slow-motion, which made them seem to be underwater.
At the same instant, both men twitched convulsively and fell. Each had something about four inches long sticking out his neck. As the dying men sagged to the ground, the others went for guns in their belts or shoulder holsters, turning with the long stretched-out movement on each other. The slow-motion made the next few minutes a strangely graceful nightmare, a ballet of murder.
From the roof of the building, a figure dropped to the car and then to the ground, diving directly inbetween the two groups of men. She was moving at normal speed, which meant that in reality she must have been amazingly fast and the contrast between her and the others was striking. She was dressed in a tight black jumpsuit with calf-high boots. A belt hanging low on one hip supported a holster and something was strapped diagonally across her back; her forearms had wide cuffs with metal strips running from wrist to elbow.
For an instant, Peril stood poised after landing and it could be seen she was beautiful. Tall, with a slim dancer's body, she had wavy black hair that reached her shoulders, fashion model features and a mouth with a pouting upper lip. The expression on her face was serious and focussed but not angry. In the next second, the men reacted, their mouths contorted as they shouted. She had landed deliberately in the middle of their circle. They made no attempt to shoot her because a bullet would go on to hit someone else behind her. Evidently she counted on this.
One hand came up behind her to seized the end of a stick which showed over one shoulder, yanking out a strange weapon from its harness on her back. Two hardwood rods thirteen each long,wrapped with black electrician's tape and joined with a length of chain. The watching KDf members felt a jolt of anticipartion. The nunchaku was a versatile weapon but surely this woman did not think she was going to survive using it against six gunmen.
Peril dropped the closest man with a shattered jaw, spun the nunchaku and slashed it out to send a .357 Magnum spinning away, then smacked the next man in the forehead to kill him instantly. Another pistol clattered away, as she jabbed her weapon with sticks together to snap his wrist. Now the gunmen were reacting fully. Only four were still on their feet and one was out of action for the moment with a broken wrist that had his full attention.
The woman in black lunged at an opponent, spinning him around with a lethal blow from the nunchaku that twisted his head around forty-five degrees and sprayed teeth and blood. The biggest gunman had stepped back just out of reach and managed to take aim. Peril twisted one rod of her weapon and a blade ten inches long popped out of the lower end; in the same smooth motion, she whipped the other rod to send the blade part deep into the man's chest. The gunman stared down stupidly and sagged to his knees.
Only one unharmed enemy was left. Rather than tug her weapon free, she released it and pivotted to face him, but a second too late. The gunman fired, a white flare erupting from his automatic. At that range, the heavy .45 slug hit like a sledgehammer to throw her to the ground. The impact was high on her chest, near the collarbone, and would likely be fatal. The impact would sent waves through her body to damage organs and put her into shock. A person of her size and build would be lucky to live long enough to get medical treatment,
Yet even as she was flung back by the impact, her own pistol was in her hand, snatched from its flap holster. It gave no muzzle flash at all. The gunman convulsed wildly, throwing both arms up and leaping off the ground as if he had been electrocuted. Blood spurted from his open mouth.
Stiffly, Peril got up on her feet. A dark glitter down her jumpsuit showed where the blood was flowing. It was impossible for someone without some sort of body armor to carry on after taking a point-blank hit from a .45 and most people would have passed out or died right then. She straightened and faced the man whose wrist she had broken. He clearly could not believe what he had witnessed in the previous forty seconds. Still clutching forearm, he tried to edge toward one of the fallen guns.
The woman in black saw this and smiled coldly. Holstering her own pistol and snapping the flap down, she stalking toward the man. Apparently her massive wound did not trouble her in the slightest. As the man went to grab the pistol on the ground, she intercepted him with a knee to the chest that hurled him back, then spun on that descending leg to smash him in the face with a reverse crescent kick. After he fell, she ignored him.
Peril retrieved her weapons, including the throwing blades, and cleaned them on the corpse's clothing. As far as could be seen, the bullet had passed through her body entirely, leaving a hole in the front and back of her jumpsuit. But the bleeding had stopped and she moved smoothly. Judging by the look on her face, she was not even in any discomfort. The woman in black surveyed the carnage, glanced up and seemed to spot the camera. Her hand dropped to her holster and the screen went black.
"And now at regular speed," Lamb said. The time, the effect of the video clip was stunning. Knowing what was going to happen, the KDF members analyzed different aspects of the killings. At normal speed, the ASR agents and the criminal gunmen were seen to be moving normally. It was just that Peril was a dark blur of precise action, every move as smooth as if she had practiced nothing else for years.
When the screen clicked off and the room light came back up, Harold Lamb said,"I would appreciate any comments."
Chen Wong-Lai said, "Whew. She has been well trained. They must have started her in childhood. I see several areas of influence in weaponry and techniques. Japanese, Okinawan, Northern China. That fast draw is American though, no other nationality has such a flair with firearms."
"She does not wear armor under that leather suit," Kwali offered in his careful way. "I saw her take a point blank from a .45 automatic. The bullet passed cleanly through her upper torso, yet she kept fighting and the wound did not hinder her after the initial trauma. Therefore, she has some ehanced healing, possibly gralic related."
"Gralic...?" asked Lamb.
"Something not in your way of looking at the world," said Kwali. His green eyes stood out in the dark face. "It is a transcendantal force, not related to physics. There are those who can draw on it to affect many procesess...oh, just think of it as magick, if you will."
"I see. Cheval?"
"That firearm she used. It looks handcrafted to me, I don't recognize it," Cheval said.
"It does seem to be a custom-made model. Very well silenced, the flash suppressor is handmade as well. It fires what are actually subminiature bombs-- cartridges filled with thiny shell shot in liquid suspension. When the shell pierces the victim, it explodes and dozens of the pellets ricochet around inside the body. Rips the entire insides to pulp. What's more, the liquid inside the cartridges is a snake venom distillate."
"This Peril is thorough," Cheval admitted. "There is not much chance of anyone surviving even a grazing wound."
"No, I guess not. She could kill a rhino with that thing."
"And how many men has she taken?"
Lamb stirred uneasily. "Twenty within the past two months, counting the four in that clip. The number of Intercrime men she has killed is thought to be larger."
Chen turned to look at his captain and Kwali,then back at Lamb. "Why 'Peril?' Where does that name come from?"
"She gave it to herself. She carves it into surfaces at her killings. Once, on a victim's chest." Lamb put desperation in his voice but it did not quite sound sincere. "We have gotten nowhere. Cheval, will you and your team help us?"
The petite woman thought for the barest moment. "There is much which needs to be explained here. Yes. We will investigate. I will report our progress, Howard." She rose and her two teammates followed.
"I will have our best man go with you, as liasion. Jack Spiegel."
"No, that will not do. We have our own methods, our own approach. Thank you anyway."
"I must insist," Lamb said. "It's standard procedure."
"Then you can proceed without us," answered Cheval quietly. "There are other cases for us to tackle."
Lamb seemed prepared to argue, then gave in. "I suppose. Good luck to you all." He glanced at Dennis Ortiz, who moved to escort the KDF members back outside the building. After they left, Howard Lamb grumbled to his himself and said, "Spiegel."
A panel slid open behind his desk to reveal a hidden niche and a man in a dark blue suit stepped out. He had dark hair and eyes, with a weathered, outdoorsy face. In one hand he held out the photos he had taken.
Inspecting the pictures, Lamb said, "What's this? What are those white patches on Chen and Kwali?"
Spiegel raised one eyebrow. "I wondered too, chief. Each man wears something under his clothing which burns out a spot on the film. As if it were a light too intense to record. But I watched them and saw nothing of the sort. Something radioactive?"
"No. That would just fog the film and overexpose the whole reel. I think it's that mysterious power Kwali mentioned. Gralic force, whatever it may be." He glared up at the taller man. "Send the head of the Manacle department. Tell Ordinance to begin production of the isolation tank and bomb attachment."
"I'll have to wake them."
"Then wake them. You have your orders, agent."
"Very good, sir." Spiegel turned on his heel and left the office.
Going back to his desk, Harold Lamb turned on his computer and opened a new file. He headed it POTENTIAL THREAT: KENNETH DRED FOUNDATION. TO BE TAKEN AND EXAMINED. and then he added, PRIORITY FOR THE MANDATE.
III.
The headquarters building on East 38th Street was not the only property that the KDF owned. Hawk island, off the coast of Maine, was where the new members were trained, and Bane maintained a rundown apartment near Chinatown that was kept as secret as possible. it was intended to be used when an enemy got the upper hand or if (as had happened) a member was being searched for by the police. But Bane did not want to start a network of bases or anything like that. Aside from the cost and the headaches of logitstics, he just thought they would never be used. So, when Cheval brought her partners back to Richmond, they pulled into the parking lot of a motel from a moderate chain. They had booked two adjoining rooms, although Cheval certainly had been through expeditions to desert or jungle realms with her team to be beyond any personal modesty. She told them to sleep until they felt ready and they would take it from there.
By eleven, all three had woken, showered and changed. They went to the motel restaurant for breakfast, and despite her small size, she kept up with them. She had skipped supper the night before to started on the trip here. Kwali had brought packets of dried tagra leaves and they stirred these into mugs of hot water.
As her two partners came up for air, Cheval watched them affectionately. She had never worked with people she could trust during her espionage years. It was comforting. "We must get going, my friends," she said. "I fear today will involve basic detective work, tedious but unavaoidable."
Kwali was done. He wiped his mouth with a napkin and said, "Cheval, once we arrive at the scene of her last appearance, my tracking power will put us on her trail. Should we not go there directly?"
"No, I want to know a little about her first. I feel there is much we do not understand about the situation. And of course, in spycraft, no agency can be trusted to tell the truth. Lamb may be using us as fall guys or as expendable executioners."
Chen went for one last sausage. "This is what I dislike most about the Midnight War. Fighting is fun, but research is only work."
For the rest of that day, they seperated and called on their various contacts. Cheval did not need transportation, of course, with her power of teleportation. She was skilled enough to unobtrusively appear in hallways and alleys unobserved,then walk over to call on someone. Kwali took taxis around the city to some extent, but did most of his search over the phone. It was Chen who took the DRAGONWING around the city and the surrounding area, visiting sifus and senseis he knew. At dusk, the three regrouped at the motel to discuss their findings. For a solid hour, they talked rapidly and compared notes. At seven-thirty, Chen and Kwali while sitting on the small couch in their room while Cheval took a chair and said, "These are our conclusions, then...
"A young American woman, around twenty-five years old. White, with black hair and green eyes. Five feet seven inches tall, one hundred and thirty pounds. Her name is variously given as Donna Warren, Fonda Sherwood, Mona Sherman.
"The woman has studied weapons with Herman Santangelo, a Filipino escrima master. She practiced marksmanship at the Emblem Gun Club. She pays in cash, the addresses she gives do not check out.
"All say she is serious, reserved and unfriendly. She stopped showing up immediately after the first Peril sighting.
"No official records match any combination of this woman's name and appearance. No IRS return, no drivers license. This could mean that her true identity has been carefully erased from the record, that in the language of espionage work, she is a 'non-person.' "
Kwali interrupted, "Of course, some of our sources may be misleading us."
"Of course. That is the curse of intelligence work. It is like dancing on quicksand. Now, the first Peril incident was typical of those that followed. She ambushed and wiped out a three-man team of ASR agents on their way to the airport. In each instance, no civilians are involved and, except for that last incident we saw on the video, no one is ever spared. There is no torture, just quick kills. She is known to take cash from her victims but nothing else. She leaves the word Peril somewhere on the scene with no explanation.
"What interests me is that she attacks agents of Advanced Security Research and no one else. No demands, no threats, extortion is not present. She may be in the employ of Intercrime or other criminal organizations, or she may be playing both sides against each other. Where she is getting her information is hard to figure out, too. She must be someone deeply involved in espionage."
Chen sat up. For that day, he was wearing regular jeans and white polo shirt. "It seems strange, then, that Harold Lamb could not identify her."
"He may be lying and know who she is. Or she may have had plastic surgery or is wearing a disguise. There are so many variables." Cheval sighed slightly. "Probably, we could locate her in time by watching places where she might show up to maintain her skills-- other dojos or firing ranges- or by setting traps that use ASR men as bait. That may take months and lead nowhere."
"Fortunately," broke in Kwali. ""We have an option not available to anyone else. Wakimbe's Claw!" The big African warrior touched the talisman he always wore under his clothing. "Tonight we will hunt."
An hour later, the three were standing in the area behind the Maison Blanc restaurant, which looked exactly as it had in the video. Despite intensive scrubbing and bleaching, bloodstains remained bloodstains.. unmistakable and disturbing. Cheval was in her field suit; boots, tight pants and snug waist-length jacket of tough material, all black. She had not brought the helmet. She had the usual weapons, including the anesthetic dart gun holstered by her side but she never felt comfortable in the outfit and wore a light beige topcoat to conceal it as much as possible. All of her experience led her to try to be inconspicuous.
Cheng Wong-Lai wore a modern version of the hooded uniform his father Chen Lee-Sun had made famous in the 1940s as the original Dragon of Midnight. The younger Chen had modernized it to some extent, mostly in the weapons he had adapted from what the KDF offered. The powered wristbands shot needle-thin darts with silent air pressure- anesthetic darts from the right wrist, explosive ones from the right. On the front of a full-face stiff cloth mask was the silver outline of a dragon. Under his shirt, he kept the dragon pendant that allowed him brief insoldity. It was this talisman which had the gralic charge that had shown on the photos surreptitiously taken of him at the ASR facility.
As for Kwali, he shrugged off a simple knee-length robe of brown cotton to reveal the black stalking suit that had been for worn for generations by the Bakwanga mystics who bore the Cat's-Claw talisman. It was a simple tunic and pants which left his legs bare from the calves down and his forearms bare from the elbows down. His body as revealed by the clinging cotton was certainly impressive, both muscular and lithe. It was not weight lifting that made him that way but the strenuous life he led. Like Chen, he carried an ancient talisman on a chain around his neck and he drew this out now.
The Cat's-Claw was just that, a claw seven inches long, glossy black and visibly shimmering with gralic force. Over thirty thousand years old, this was a relic of the Corruption on Ulgor that began the Midnight War before the beginning of revealed history. It was generally believed that the talisman was a literal claw from the body of Wakimbe, the great sorceror who had been able to assume giant lion form and who had passed this on to his spiritual descendants.
To the Bakwanga, the Black Lion was their totem, a revered ancestor whose guidance and protection was sought. They did not consider him a real god in the pantheon but rather their own personal spirit. Kwali had passed the grueling and even vicious trials of mind and body when the previous holder had died. He earned the Cat's-Claw just before his sixteenth birthday and accepted the burden. Since then, his had been a life of service traveling the world and the adjacent realms in pursuit of bandits and tyrants. The story of how he had fought with Jeremy Bane and then become allies involved his own countryman, Arem Kamende, one of the great threats of that era. Feeling a chance to gain valuable skills and establish himself with the authorities, Kwali had become a knight of Tel Shai and, for the moment, a KDF member.
Now, in that courtyard where six men had been killed just three nights earlier, he dangled the ancient talisman in front of his closed eyes, letting his mind relax, waiting for the connection and feeling his senses expand...
He straightened and his bright green eyes snapped open. When he spoke, his deep rumbling voice was lit with excitement. "I have the scent!"
IV.
Normally, Kwali was a self-possessed disciplined man but he had changed dramatically as he caught the trail left by Peril.The big African warrior hurried to the black sedan DRAGONWING with Cheval and Chen following. He plunged into the passenger seat as Cheval got in the back and Chen Wong-Lai slid behind the wheel. The silent motor surged and the car leaped away and tore onto the street before Chen had any idea where they were going.
In the rear seat, Cheval ventured to say, "You seem eager, Kwali."
"We have little time to spare. I can sense it. Violence boils in her spirit and Peril is aching to kill." The African avenger tucked the Cat's-Claw back under his tunic. He had forgotten his robe back there but he did not want to go back for it. The black car tore through the darkened streets. Within minutes they had reached a quiet and rather upper-class residential street when Kwali spoke. "Here, Chen, pull over."
Three figures in black slipped from the car and stepped silently down the empty sidewalk. Despite all her training and practice, Cheval admitted she could not compete with her two partners when it came to stealth. At the end of the street was a walled gate that read WILTWYCK CEMETERY, and as they watched a red VW bus rolled past them and into that parking lot. As it stopped, a woman slid out from the driver seat and stepped around out of sight. In the second she was visible, she was revealed as tall, with curly black hair down to her shoulders, wearing a dark coat that reached her knees.
Chen and Kwali vaulted the low wall far apartment from each other, two masters of stealth. Watching from beneath a tree half a block away, Cheval lost sight of her two partners. They are well matched, she thought, twin shadows at home in darkness. But, she thought, I have my own gifts. Cheval blinked out of existence and was standing next to the wall. Her skill at gating was so refined and controlled that there was neither noise or light as she instantly traveled from one spot to another. Crouching next to the chest high sign, the KDF team leader put her hand on the butt of her dart gun and held her breath. There was no sign anyone was nearby.
Already inside that cemetery were two long black cars, parking at right angles to each other. As Peril stepped out of her van, three men stood up inside the wall, cutting off her retreat. Four stepped around the cars and encircled her. They were dressed like SWAT officers, complete with Kevlar armor breastplates and helmets with clear faceshields. They carried assault rifles and held them up at the ready.
"Your informer won't be coming," announced one of the men in an angry voice."He's already in Hell."
Peril stood motionless, not even her head turning. "Say hi to him for me."
"It's over, bitch. We have no use for renegades and traitors!"
"Some things," she said slowly, "deserve to be betrayed." She put one foot out to the side and balanced herself,but she had not raised her hands. As fast as she was, she could not hope to reach the cover of her van before hundreds of bullets tore through her.
Then the roar of a hunting lion blasted across the cemetery, echoing for miles in the night. It was so unexpected and loud that every person there gave a start and looked wildly around. A huge dark form leaped up onto the roof of the VW van and dove directly into a cluster of four armed men. Kwali's knotted fist snapped one gunman's head around so fast that the neck snapped. The Danarakan warrior seized one ASR man's arm and pulled him into an openhand slap that dropped him senseless to the ground. As yet, none of them had recovered from the shock of that roar coming out of the darkness and Kwali took full advantage of it. At that point, the two remaining had gotten their balance and reacted to this attacker. They raised their assault rifles but Kwali struck faster than their fingers could squeeze the triggers. The giant African backhanded the nearest gunman so hard that his knuckles shattered the plexiglass visor of that unlucky man's visor. He reeled drunkenly and fell backwards. Only one remained. He should have fired, he had time, but he caught a glimpser of green eyes that belonged on a great cat of the savannah. The sight paralyzed him. Kwali seized the man's wrist in an iron grip and yanked his arm straight up, out of the socket. The ASR agent screamed for one second before a big open hand came down like an axe across his neck. The weilder of Cat's-Claw dropped the body to the cemetery dirt.
Behind him, Peril stood over the three ASR gunmen who had stood up by the border wall. She had one rod of the nunchaku in her left hand, the other tucked under her arm, and she had the handcrafted silenced pistol in her other hand. Its wide barrel pointed at Kwali without a tremor. "Nice dancing," she said. "Who ARE you?"
The African hero straightened up and stepped away from the corpses. "I am Bakwanga Kwali of Danarak. Heir of Wakimbe!"
"Kwali? Kwali. Yes, I've heard of you. What's your game?"
"My... game, as you call it? My game is to walk the world hunting bandits and tyrants, protecting those who need protection and striking down those who deserve it."
When the woman named Peril smiled, she became gorgeous. Perfect white teeth flashed in the gloom. "Really. Oh my God. Well, maybe you can explain a few things..."
She was interrupted as a black-uniformed masked man seized her from behind, grabbing her gunhand and yanking it straight up and wrenching her weapon away. Instantly, Peril whipped the nunchaku around to his head, but Chen was already blocking with his forearm, deflecting the club before it could build up any speed. From behind, he drove his foot into the back of her knee, following her down and pinning her with both of her arms held up behind her.
"You're good," said the Dragon of Midnight, "but a little predictable."
Cheval blinked in from the wall around the cemetery. She had been watching for any outside movement, cars going by or signs of further ASR reinforcements. Now she knelt beside where Chen had Peril pinned down. The mystery woman was putting up resistance, twisting and trying to get free and giving Chen quite a struggle.
"Relax, my dear," Cheval said. "We are not more enemies. We are here to help you. That's it, settle down."
The beautiful face twisted around and the green eyes widened. "Cheval...?!"
"You know me? Wait. Oh God, Kristin! Is that you?"
Suddenly, unexpectedly, Peril collapsed. She sagged loose to the ground and hid her face. After a second, she said, "I WAS Kristin. There is no more Kristin. I don't know who I am anymore."
Cheval motioned Chen to let the woman go and helped Peril sit up. "Kristin, I thought you were dead."
"I might as well be!" screamed Peril. "I might as well be." She got to one knee and stood up. "Cheval. You were always straight with me. If I could trust anyone in this filthy game, it would be you."
The KDF leader had her hands on the mystery woman's arms, not restraining but comforting. "I left my agency. You must have heard. The deceit, the manipulation, I was sick of it all. Now I am working with the Kenneth Dred Foundation."
"I've heard of them. Ghostbusters. Monster chasers. Oh, Cheval, what are you doing here? Let me finishing killing these scum so I can die in peace."
"I want to help you. Is that your van?"
"No, it's stolen."
"Come with us," Cheval said. "You know who Kwali is. You have heard of the Dragon of Midnight, here he is, as well."
Peril stared dazedly. "You guys are just stories agents tell. Tall tales. But here... let's go. I'll go with you."
Leaving the dead bodies, knowing that Advanced Security Research would have a few mop-up agents coming to take away any evidence, Cheval led everyone back to the DRAGONWING. Peril got in the back seat with her, Chen spun the long car around and tore off into the night as Peril began spilling her story.
IV.
"You were always good to me, Cheval. Everyone else used me one way or another." Peril looked at the two men in front. "I used to be Kristin Tierney. There's not much left of Kristin. I was recruited right out of college for ASR. I was young and a fool and I believed I was serving my country. They told me I volunteered for the Peril experiment. Maybe I did, I don't remember now. They took me apart and put me together different. I never looked anything like this."
"Plastic surgery?" asked Chen.
"Plastic surgery is only the beginning. They break down your mind and reshape it. They gave me a synthetic enzyme that ramped up my healing factor. We are canalized agents. The idea was that we would have no memories and no outside interests, our lives would be dedicated to the job. I know they killed my family."
"Your own agency did that?"
"Yes. So I would have nowhere to go. I found out, in a file I was not supposed to see. They had made me into a killing machine and I decided they deserved to have that machine go after them. They are worse than the enemies they are supposed to be fighting."
Cheval was hugging the distraught woman. "You are still Kristin. I remember you. I recognized you."
"My memories can't be trusted. I went to the school I remember attending and there was never a school there! There are so many lies, I can't trust anything I remember. I can't count on what happened five minutes ago."
"Dancing on quicksand," Cheval said. "I know. Kristin, Harold Lamb tried to use us. He asked us to track down Peril and bring her in. He can go to the hell he deserves. Come with us. We will take you anywhere in the world and you can start over. Maybe a small quiet town where no one has ever heard of espionage..."
Peril hugged the smaller woman. "it's too late for that. Do you know how many government men I've killed? I'm on borrowed time as it is. All I can do is take as many with me as I can."
"I don't accept that. No." Cheval held the woman. "We need to end this so you can move on. Listen, I have an idea..."
V.
At one-thirty in the morning, the black Lincoln that had been rebuilt into DRAGONWING rolled along the mile-long driveway and pulled up in front of the ASR complex. Chen Wong-Lai got out and answered the questions put to him by the voice from the speakers. Kwali went to the back seat and removed the limp form of Peril, carrying her across his huge chest like a child.
A man in a light grey suit came to meet them, not Dennis Ortiz from the day before but someone nearly identical. He ushered them into the building.
"Where's Cheval?" he asked as they went into the elevator. "We were expecting to hear from her."
"Some loose ends," Chen answered. He had removed the mask and was carrying the nunchaku and special pistol that belonged to Peril. They went past the desk where now a young man was sitting who gave them ID badges and eventually were shown into Harold Lamb's office.
Fully dressed, shaved, groomed, Lamb gave no sign he had been asleep in his apartment on the floor below just a few minutes earlier. He had years of experience at being rousted. As Chen and kwali came in, the director of the ASR was just taking his seat behind the steel desk. "Well, that was quick work," he said.
"We do our best," Chen replied. "Cheval will be along shortly."
"Very good. Was she.. Peril.. harmed? Can she talk?"
An ominous undertone edged Kwali's voice. "She has already talked."
Harold Lamb tried to smile and failed. He seemed preoccupied by a tiny flashing red light on his desk, but got back to Kwali. "Really. I'd be interested in hearing more. Spiegel, come in please."
the wall panel slid sideways and the man called Spiegel stood up. There was nothing in that cubicle but a short built-in bench, giving the impression he did nothing but sit in there on call. Spiegel came over and stood by Lamb's right side as Kwali let Peril get on her feet. She glared murderously at the two ASR men.
"You betrayed us," Lamb muttered. He had his hand beneath the edge of his desk and he glanced down at it in diappointment, then slammed his other hand down on a panel on the rear of that desk. His face was comical in its exaggerated disappointment.
Standing up, he reached behind him and come up with a small spike-nose pistol no bigger than a .22 in caliber.
Cheval was suddenly standing next to him. Lamb screamed and fell over his own chair at the surprise. She had not snuck up on him, she had just popped in from literally nowhere. As he scrambled back up to his feet, he thrust the pistol forward and it clicked harmlessly.
"There are no bullets in your toy," she said quietly. "None of your killing gadgets will work in this room. The blinding laser net, the vomit gas, the spray of needles... none of them. I was in here for half an hour disarming everything."
"This can't be true! It's impossible."
"You may wish it were impossible, Lamb. Remember when we met at the CIA years ago? You asked me what my special gift was, how did I infiltrate installations so easily. Well, now you know." As she said the last word, Cheval was not standing next to him but was over by her teammates. The expressions that chased each other around his face settled into craftiness, "You have a wild talent. You can teleport?"
"Just so. And I think I understand now. This whole facility, all the staff and equipment, is not really a section of the Defense Department. You work for an agency established to be able to deal with those of us with special gifts. The Mandate."
Lamb had lost his rigid control. His face was red and his chest moving up and down. For the first time, there was actual emotion in his voice. "The defense of this nation is our responsibility. You- you freaks can not be controlled. You can not be countered. All the reports we have collected of the supernatural show the greatest threat to the United States is people like you."
"No," Peril said quietly. "It's people like you." Before anyone could react, she had lunged across the room and punched Lamb in the jaw so hard his head turned around to look almost over his own shoulder. Spiegel reacted instincively, his hand diving inside his suit jacket for the gun that must be there but Peril caught him with the backhand from the same fist that had felled his boss, spinning him around. He staggered and she stepped in to shove his face down onto her upraised knee. He would not be getting up from that right away.
Green eyes glaring, Peril spun back toward the others. "Leave me with these people for a moment, Cheval."
Chen and Kwali did not speak but were watching her sadly. After a pause, Cheval sighed and shook her head, "Harold Lamb is already dead. Look at him." It was true. He was lying with open eyes, head twisted too far around to be natural.
Peril sagged and went to drop into one of the chairs. All energy seemed to have left her at seeing that.
"Now there will be a new Director of Advanced Security Research. Perhaps that Ortiz fellow, perhaps someone just like him. It's pointless to kill these people or to prosecute them. They are replaced. Espionage is like the police and the military, sad but necessary facts of life."
Leaning forward with her head down, Peril gazed up. Cheval went on, "Even if the AsR or the Mandate was completely dismantled, another agency would just step in to fill the void. I'm sorry, Kristin."
"I'm sorry, too," said Peril as she finally started to cry over all she had lost.
4/18/2013
