"THE WALLS BETWEEN THE WORLDS I: Ugamesh"

[dochermes]

"THE WALLS BETWEEN THE WORLDS - Ugamesh"

1/8/2012

I.

Hunting the hunters. Three men wrapped in long coats and topped with wide-brimmed hats walked slowly through the freezing winds and crossed Bleeker Street at the corner. Two stayed close together, but the third held back a full block behind them, even more furtive. This part of Greenwich Village never seemed as well lit as surrounding neighborhoods. There were no 24- hour pharmacies, no shops with window displays lighted up all night. Every window was dark, there was not even one with the ghostly blue flicker of someone watching television. At only eleven-thirty at night with a wind chill hitting zero, the Village seemed like a ghost town, empty of life.

Except for one tall slim woman in a pea coat and scarf, who trotted quickly down the street. Behind her, just far enough back that she might not spot them if she turned suddenly, were three stalkers. The two nearer ones quickened their strides, drawing closer to the woman as if getting impatient. But, although the three men did not know it, they themselves were being followed. A gaunt figure all in black, moving without sound from shadow to shadow, tracked them like a hungry predator. Once or twice, the third stalker slowed and glanced around, but the man following him froze up against a wall or in a doorway and escaped detection. At one intersection, the figure in black suddenly rushed forward in a blur, seized the third man and hauled him off his feet to carry him into a dead-end alley between two buildings. There was a sharp cracking noise, the only sound made during the capture, and then silence again.

Lowering the stunned man to the chill bricks of the alley, Jeremy Bane took a pencil flashlight from a jacket pocket and narrowed its beam to a thin line. He played it over the man, studying the face and hands. Dark olive skin, thick lips and high arched nose, glossy straight black hair. Bane searched the man and found a long-barrelled .32 pistol and a short wide-bladed knife, both of which he confiscated. All this had taken only a few seconds. Yanking a pair of handcuffs from the back of his belt, the Dire Wolf knelt and snapped the cuffs to fasten the man's right wrist to left ankle. If he gets up in that condition, Bane thought, he deserves to get away.

Instantly, Bane wheeled and was back out on the street. The two stalkers were a block away, just standing on the curb. In the dim night, he could just see the woman another block further on, with the tiny flare of a cigarette lighter near her face. The Dire Wolf slowed and considered. He had been out prowling the night when he had spotted this little pursuit. It was not unusual for him to be on the streets in the middle of the night looking for trouble. Bane had always been restless and nocturnal, thriving on high stress situations. A slow week at his detective agency had left him stirred up with enough excess energy that he started prowling to burn it off. His concession to winter was a coat and thin leather gloves, but no hat. As he closed in on the two stalkers, a faint wicked grin broke his grim face. He had been afraid dawn would rise without his finding anything interesting.

Even at this distance, Bane spotted something strange about the woman. His Kumundu training left him perceptive of body language, gait, balance. She knew she was being followed. More, she expected it. As the two stalkers moved quicker, their body language gave every clue they were going to attack, one was reaching into a holster under his left armpit. Faster than a real wolf, Bane hurtled forward and jumped the one with the gun, smacking him between the shoulder blades with a fierce elbow strike. As that man gasped and fell to his knees. the other stalker swung around and caught a simple hooking punch to the face that snapped his head to one side and dropped him on his back. In a continuation of the same movement, Bane turned back to the first man, now on his hands and knees. The Dire wolf crouched and drove a left hook that had the decisive distinctive crunch sound that meant the recipient would not be getting up for some time. Bane turned back, but the man who had been punched in the face was still sprawled where he had fallen. He would be dazed for a few more minutes.

Bane straightened up and tugged his coat down. He was satisfied with his moves of the past few seconds, but maybe he should have used an open-hand chop to the back of the neck rather than the elbow to the shoulder blades. He was slightly surprised to see the woman striding angrily up to him. Immediately, he caught that she held a small Beretta in one hand but the way she held it pointed down at the street indicated he was not in imminent danger. "Who the hell are you?" she asked in a smooth, slightly husky voice.

"My name is Bane," he answered. "I think I recognize you from descriptions. We're in the same line of business. Elizabeth Colt, right?"

"Same line of business? I don't think so. The notorious Dire Wolf, right? Everyone knows about you. The police, the FBI, government spooks... they come see you for ten minutes and the next day, a serial killer is dead. You're an assassin."

Bane's voice had an edge to it that wasn't there a second before. "Wrong! I have never killed anyone in cold blood. I try to take them in alive. You have some wrong ideas about me, Colt."

"If you say so," she answered. "It doesn't matter. I suppose you think you did me a favor just now."

"Against three stalkers? Yeah, I'd say so." Bane turned back to the man who had not been completely unconscious and was now trying to get up on his hands and knees. He stepped closer, kicked the man's arms out from under him so that he fell again. "Fengamish malara!" he barked sharply.

Elizabeth Colt was still holding the Beretta, barrel down at the sidewalk. She was tall, at least five foot eight, and even through the pea coat, an impressive ledge of bust jutted out. The white scarf was around her neck, she wore her straight golden hair loose to halfway down her back. "What was that you said?"

"I told him to stay down. In his own language. Why were these Gelengim following you anyway?"

She was too sharp to repeat the name as a question, but he could see that she hadn't heard of 'Gelengim' before. "That's my business. I didn't need any white knight to the rescue. I can take care of myself."

"You know there was a third one following at a distance? I've got him tied up in that alley by the shoe store. Even if you held these two covered, he was ready to shoot you in the leg and they'd have you prisoner."

She did not glance toward the alley he mentioned, her gaze remained squarely on Bane.

The Dire Wolf crouched over the still-dazed Gelengi. He had only met these people once before, years ago when the KDF had gone into Ashfahan to retrieve stolen Darthan talismans. It had been a rough mission, the Gelengim were tough, mean fighters. Now he asked a few questions in the Ashfahan language. He did not really expect answers, he was examining the man's responses and facial expressions. After a few more minutes, Bane took an ammo clip from a pocket of his coat and ejected a strange metal dart with a short pointed tip. He pressed this into the man's neck and stepped back as the chemical took effect in a few seconds.The Dire Wolf went over and did the same thing to the other Gelengi.

Elizabeth colt watched the procedure. "Your anesthetic darts, right? They'll be out for an hour or so, sick and nauseous for another twenty minutes after that?"

"You seem to have done your homework on me," the Dire Wolf replied.

"Hah. Don't flatter yourself. It's common knowledge among investigators."

"In any case, no. This is a muscle relaxant. These goons will be too weak to walk for a day, maybe two. It gets them out of the way."

Bane gripped one man by the collar and walked over to seize the other the same way. As easily as if he were walking without any burden, he dragged the two men quickly across the block and dumped them next to the one he had captured earlier. As Colt watched in silence, he searched them, confiscated their guns and walked back to her.

"They will have others looking for them when they don't return with you," he said. "That may be hours from now, just before it starts getting light." As he spoke, he was opening the guns and ruining them before tossing them in a litter barrel.

Elizabeth Colt was watching him warily. "The exposure to this cold won't do them any good."

"These men have the tattoo on the inner wrist of a four-pointed star. They're assassins. They don't get that tattoo until they have brought back three scalps to their pack leader, so I do not have much sympathy for them."

The detective finally put away her pistol. "I'm going to take a chance you've been telling the truth with me, mister. Follow me." She swivelled on one heel and trotted around the corner. They were on Bleeker Street and there, halfway up the block, was a two-story white stone building Bane knew well. Two windows were lit on the ground floor, and as they approached, a shadow inside crossed one of them. The heavy wooden door swung open and a woman ushered them in.

"Miss Colt, I was getting worried," she said. She was quite young, no more than twenty-two or three, with a faint Spanish accent still detectable. Like Elizabeth Colt, she had long glossy hair but hers was black. The younger woman helped Colt with her heavy coat and hung it on a rack just inside the door, but her eyes never left the Dire Wolf.

Despite all his training, a wave of memories swept over Jeremy Bane to be standing in this vestibule. Nothing remained of what he remembered except the building itself. The Eldar talisman over the front door, the oil painting of a dour Puritan swordsman, the three laughing masks of carved wood... all gone. He knew the same would be true of the entire building. He and his team had spent days taking away anything of an occult nature.

Seeing the farway look in his eyes, Colt asked in a gentler tone, "You've been here before?"

"Huh? Oh, yes. Sorry. One of my friends and colleagues owned this house. When he died, we had to empty it of his collection. I knew it had been rented out years ago, but the last I heard, it was going to be divided up into apartments." Bane turned to face the two women. "I didn't think I would ever be here again."

Both women were wearing dark pants suits with button-front blouses. Elizabeth Colt's was light blue, while her partner's was red. Colt towered over her partner, who stood maybe five foot two with shoes. Still giving Bane a dubious look, the detective gestured toward the open door that led into the house. "Come on in. Let's start putting some cards on the table."

II.

The younger woman's name turned out to Angelina Delgado, she was a licensed PI operative not authorized to open an office on her own yet. As she went for coffee, Colt led Bane into her office. It was plain and businesslike. Well-lit, wood paneling, a modest rug, shelves of law and reference books. Colt went to sit behind a huge old-fashioned desk and Bane picked up a straightback chair with a yellow cushion, moving it slightly to one side so that he was not sitting directly in front of her. He had kept his own coat on and he draped it over the back of the chair before sitting.

For a moment, they regarded each other. Now hitting fifty, Jeremy Bane had not changed much over the years. There were a few scattered grey strands in the short black hair, a few lines around the mouth and eyes. But he was still thin and hard, still watching the world with cold grey eyes beneath heavy brows. As usual, he was all in black- slacks, turtleneck and sport jacket. Sitting across from him was a tall woman with long wavy golden hair, a pale oval face and intense dark eyes. Her mouth was full-lipped and didn't seem to match the general strictness of her atttitude. A faint white scar showed on the left side of that mouth just below the nose.

Reaching in his jacket, Bane took out a leather billfold and showed her his Private Investigator license, as well as his fire scene card and NYPD consultant tag. "I've held my license since 1985," he said as she gave it careful study. "A few times, the DA or the Mayor has wanted to have it suspended but they haven't succeeded so far. You know a little bit about me. Let me throw out some names. Samhain. Karl Eldritch. Wu Lung. Seneca. Dr Sabbath."

"All right, I get the point," she interrupted. "Yes. You have killed or captured a dozen maniacs who were a genuine threat to the public. And rumours are that is just the tip of the iceberg. I have heard the wildest fairy tales about you from people who should know better. Vampires. Werewolves. Men with snake fangs, voodoo masters. Feh."

"And you? Elizabeth Colt. You'd be in your late thirties now. Your father was killed while protecting a witness who saw a gangland murder. You dropped out of police academy and took over his business. How you got through the red tape I don't know, but you seem like someone who isn't easily discouraged."

For the first time, a faint gleam of amusement played in her eyes. "True enough. But now for some current issues. How is it you were following the men who were following me?"

"It's what I do sometimes," Bane answered. "I was born looking for trouble."

"So. On a bitter cold night, you are out wandering the streets looking for mugggers to beat up?" This was when Angelina Delgado came in the office with a tray holding a coffeepot, cups, cream and sugar. Everyone served themselves. Bane accepted a cup but took no more than a sip. With his enhanced metabolism, caffeeine was the last thing he needed in his system. As they held the steaming cups, Angelina crossed over to a smaller desk opposite the door and turned in a swivel chair to watch.

Bane put the coffee cup down on the arm of his chair. "Miss Colt, I recognized those men when I got a good look at them. Gelengim, and not only that, but initiates in the Brotherhood of the Four-Pointed Star. They're assassins, good at their trade. Not the best, but good. It's rare for them to be in the world, much less roaming New York."

"In the world...?" Colt repeated.

"I don't know how much I can explain to you. You're not familiar with the Midnight War? No. Let's say the Gelengim come from far away. The Middle East, if you like. They seldom leave their country, their job is to protect their Queen but sometimes they are sent out to fetch things. Or people."

"I don't see what they would want with me," Elizabeth Colt said. "My cases are all closed at the moment with no loose ends. Angelina, any thoughts?"

From across the room, the young Spanish girl answered at once, "There is Mark Drum and his missing wife."

Seeing the instant interest on Bane's face, Colt sighed. "Fine. Angelina and I run an online community dedicated to unsolved homicides. There are more than four thousand subscribers offering their opinions. About once a month, someone offers to hire us to solve a cold case and others chip in for our fee. It's a big part of our business." She studied Bane's face. "Six weeks ago, someone calling themselves 'UpTillDawn' asked us if we would interested in finding out what happened to Mark Drum. I see that name rings a bell?"

"He was before my time," Bane answered. "But yes, certainly I've heard of Mark Drum."

"Come to think of it, he did the same kind of work you're doing now. Freelance vigilante and monster-hunter. Back in the 1940s and 1950s. Anyway, in the summer of 1957, Drum went into a house where a supposed warlock was hiding and a bomb went off. Wrecked half the house, the structure had to be demolished. No trace of Mark Drum was ever found and he was never seen again. His wife Sonia was pregnant at the time and, a few weeks later, she was seen getting a taxi and she was likewise never seen again. It's a bit of a classic unsolved mystery that students of crime all discuss at some point."

Jeremy Bane was oddly distant for a moment. It was not like him to let his attention wander, but he snapped back. "So, you have been looking into Drum's disappearance?"

"Absolutely. And I would have been in any event. This building, where our office and apartments are, originally belonged to Drum. You knew that, right?"

"I did," Bane answered. "It's why I was surprised to be led here."

"It gets better," she said with a faint hint of smile. "Drum was declared legally dead, and his widow signed the house over to a man named John Robert Chase. I haven't been able to find out anything about him. For twenty years, Chase paid taxes and utilities but kept the house closed up. It was like a museum. In 1979, people saw visitors coming and going at odd hours, and one strange man was reportedly living here. A description I found says he was taller than a basketball player, always bundled up so nothing showed, never spoke to anyone. That man evidently stayed here about ten years."

"Khang."

"What?" asked Colt.

"That man was Khang. He was my friend. He's dead now."

Colt leaned forward, showing the faintest hint of cleavage in the undone top buttons. Her eyes were dark blue. "Who is this Chase? What's his connection to Mark Drum?"

"Chase. Well, he's hard to explain. As far as I know, he's still alive but he's be too old for you to believe. John Robert Chase is a sorceror at the upper limits of power a Human can reach. He is also a puppet master who manipulates people into taking roles he thinks they should fill." Bane saw the expression on her face. "It doesn't matter if you believe it or not. Chase plays chess with the lives of men and women. We don't get along."

Unexpectedly, Angelina cut in. "I believe in such things. Witches, spirits... in my village we do not laugh at the unseen world." Seeing the sour look she was getting from Colt, she stopped.

Bane went on. "I don't try to convince people about the Midnight War. If they're involved with me, sooner or later they see enough for themselves. Miss Colt, you started to look into the fate of Mark Drum and his wife. Then the Gelengim showed up? Connection?"

"I think so," she answered. "Most of the people who knew Drum are in their seventies and eighties by now, the few that aren't dead. I tracked some down and arranged meetings. After meeting the third old man, a retired police detective who worked with Drum in the early 1950s, I started spotted these strange dark men watching me, Gelengim, you call them. They were hard to shake, and as time went on they started getting on my nerves. Having them on my tail was bad for business. Tonight I decided to play bait and see if I could capture one and bring him here to make him talk." She gave Bane a wry half-smile. "But you stuck your nose in."

Bane placed the coffee mug back on the tray, having barely taken a sip. "There's some connection between Mark Drum and the Gelengim. They started following you soon after you started asking questions about him. Miss Colt-"

"Oh, you might as well call me Elizabeth," she snapped. "We're obviously going to have to deal with each other." She added, "Jeremy."

"Fair enough. The people you interviewed, did they ever mention the word Ashfahan? Any word or name that sounded strange or foreign, like that?"

Elizabeth Colt hesitated for the merest instant. "One man did. He used to be a reporter for the JOURNAL-AMERICAN in the 1950s. I was asking him about the worst opponent Drum ever tackled, and he just said, 'Ugamesh.'"


III.

Out on the street again, Bane strode quickly away from Bleeker Street. There was still no hint of dawn in the sky, but one or two windows began to be lit as early risers stirred. Beside the Dire Wolf, Angelina Delgado trotted along briskly. She was wearing a bright blue down-filled ski jacket, gloves and a white wool hat, with her hair tied behind her in a loose pony tail. Angelina was pretty enough, he saw objectively. The white flash of teeth in a light brown face, the big dark eyes with long lashes... those would be useful to a pair of detectives. Walking close beside him, she said, "I am armed. Just so you know."

"What are you carrying?"

"My S & W .38 Special. It's a little big for my hands but I've learned to handle it. Just so you know."

"Thanks," Bane replied. "Here's where we left the Gelengim." They turned into the alley and found it deserted.

"That was quicker than I expected." Bane shone his flashlight around the area. "Their fellow assassins must have come to check on their progress and took them away."

Angelina studied the empty alley, her shoulders raised in the cold. "Now we can't question them."

"No," Bane said. "But they wouldn't talk even under torture." He straightened up. "Ready for a walk, Angelina?"

"I guess," she answered.

The Dire Wolf stepped out onto the empty sidewalk and started heading north. After five minutes, they saw a blue-top taxi and waved it over. The interior was steamy with the heater on. As they climbed in the back, Bane said, "East 38th Street, by Lexington." The cab made two rights and headed north. In the rear seat, Angelina examined the framed photo and ID of the driver that was posted in front of them. FRANK MANOCCI. He had no resemblance to the men who had been following Elizabeth Colt. She glanced over at Bane, who had been watching her, and they nodded.

At 38th Street, they got out in front of a ten-story stone building with an old-fashioned exterior. Bane paid the taxi and walked over to stand in front of the steps that led up to a massive door. "Someone should be on duty," he said to Angelina," as he headed up the steps. There was a click and a buzz, and the front door opened slightly. From a concealed speaker, a male voice crackled, "Good morning, captain. You're out late."

"Hi, Argent." Bane led Angelina into a small vestibule that held not much more than a bench and an end table with a lamp on it. On the wall was a framed oil painting of a gnomish old man with a slight good-natured smile. KENNETH DRED, 1900-1979. As they stood there, a faint hum could just be heard and Angelina twitched. "What? Are we being X-rayed or something?"

"Something like that," Bane said. The inner door opened and Sheng Mo Yuan stood there grinning at them. He was a small man, no more than five feet five, but wide and muscular in a dark blue polo shirt and jeans. Sheng looked like a northern Chinese, but his beaked nose and deepset hazel eyes showed he was actually from the realm of Chujir. He held out his hand and Bane shook it firmly.

"Captain, it has been too long!" Sheng said. "But first. Young lady, I must ask you to place your gun in that cabinet to your left."

Angelina glanced over at Bane, who nodded. "I don't know..."

"Please," Sheng said. "Routine security. You are welcome in the headquarters of the Kenneth Dred Foundation, but we do have security procedures." As the two men watched, she drew her revolver from its holster behind her hip and placed it in the top drawer of the cabinet, where a lock clicked as she shut it. The Spanish girl looked quite displeased with the whole business.

"Let's go in the reception room," Bane suggested. "Argent, who else is in the building?"

"No one," Sheng said. "Sable has everyone in Brazil on a case. Nothing urgent, just following up on a sighting. Today was my day off, so I stayed to watch the building." He moved to help Angelina get her coat off and she cooperated politely. My name is Sheng, sometimes called Argent. Jeremy here was our captain and to be honest, we will always think of him that way."

"Miss Colt has told me a little of your KDF. You are ghostbusters? Brujo-fighters?"

"A good way to put it," he agreed, leading her over across the hall to the reception room. Hanging up his own coat, Bane followed, still surprised how the room had not been changed since he had used it himself for his first detective agency in 1991. There was the desk against the wall, with a huge hand-painted map of the world in 1937 hanging over it. There was the fish tank in one corner, with its weird specimens from Ulgor, there were two chairs in front of the desk and and two more by a low coffee table stacked with newspapers and magazines.

Standing in the middle of the room, Bane glanced at the desk but made no move to go over to it. For ten years, he had sat there interviewing clients, arguing with the police, confronting suspects. But that was over now. He had stepped down and handed leadership to Sable. Even if she was not there at the moment, that chair behind the desk was Sable's. Bane picked up one of the straightbacked wooden chairs and brought it over to the coffee table. Argent held a chair for Angelina, who smiled politely. As they adjusted their positions, Bane began, "Let's get going. Angelina here works for Elizabeth Colt, they are both private investigators with their office in the house where Khang lived. And before him, it was the Mark Drum home. Drum evidently was killed in 1957 and his pregnant wife disappeared not long after. Colt is investigating that disappearance. It's a cold case fifty years old, but as she started talking to people, strange dark men began stalking her."

Sheng nodded to show he was following all this. He had joined the KDF long after Khang's death and had hardly heard of Mark Drum, but he was taking it all in.

"I recognized the men as Gelengim from Ashfahan. In fact, they are members of the Brotherhood of the Four-Pointed Star." Bane raised his hands, palms up. "The only bit of information we have to go on is a name, Ugamesh."

"Never heard of it," Sheng said. "But then, I am not much of a scholar. I'm here to fight."

"True enough. So, Sheng, I think I need to go up to the conference room and go through the files. It's time for dull paging through old reports. Angelina here is not cleared for anything, of course, but I don't see any harm in her seeing our conference room. How do you feel about it?"

Argent shrugged and stood up. "It's not like she's going to be snooping around unescorted. On the other hand... she will report everything she sees and hears to her boss?"

"Of course I will," Angelina said. "I thought that was understood."

"All right then," Bane decided. He led them out into the hall and up the wide staircase to the second floor. Here they entered a big, high-ceiling room that was dominated by a long oak table in its middle. Twelve chairs sat at that table, five on either side and one at each end. One wall had two high windows that were heavily curtained. As they entered, Bane thumbed on the overhead fluorescent lights. There were rows of green metal filing cabinets, a big screen TV and assorted electronic devices around it, and a cabinet in one corner with a waist high refrigerator. A small stand held a desktop computer, with a chair in front of it.

"This table is very old," Bane told Angelina. "It has a complicated history, but I can tell you generations of heroes have sat at it... including Mark Drum." He went over to the desktop computer and turned it on. "Argent, do you want to start here? We're looking for 'Ugamesh' and 'Mark Drum.'"

Seeing Angelina watching, the Dire Wolf said, "Not everything in our files has been put in the computer. There's just too much information. Not only that, but this building holds close to a million old books that Kenneth Dred collected in his lifetime, almost all of them about the Midnight War. This search could take a while."

She smiled and took a seat near where Sheng was sitting at the computer. Bane went over to the filing cabinets, unlocked the first one and started thumbing through the manila folders. After a few minutes, Sheng said,. "Found something! Here. 'Ugamesh. One of three enigmatic beings active in the Darthan Age. Along with Azalin and Vendigor, Ugamesh exhibited great gralic force but seldom took part in the War. His origin and nature were never revealed. Last seen at the Fall of the Darthim.' But then there is a handwritten note at the bottom of the page, 'Salem, Mass June 1957- sighting?' "

Bane glanced over. "That's something to start with. I remember Azalin. Khang fought him once. Vendigor, I don't know. So, Ugamesh apparently reappeared about the time Drum died? Worth noting." Taking a manila folder over to where they sat, Bane started going through its contents. "Angelina, I don't think we can let you read these reports. Much of it is still classified and it's dangerous knowledge. Here's a photo of Drum, though.. it appeared in the newspapers back then, so it's public information."

Angelina Delgado studied an 8x10 color photograph, a studio portrait of a man with thick black hair, a narrow face with a pointed nose and thin lips. Beneath heavy dark brows was a pair of pale eyes that regarded the camera suspiciously. "Mr Bane? He has the same color eyes as you do."

The Dire Wolf looked over her shoulder. "Huh. Grey eyes. Well, they're not that rare."

"You two look a good deal alike," she went on.

"I don't see a resemblance. Black hair and grey eyes? Lots of Irish and Scots with that combination." He sat opposite her and started reading the timeline of Mark Drum's life that Kenneth Dred had compiled and typed up so long ago. Scanning the pages, he saw no mention of any Ugamesh. Bane read with increasing fascination. Mark Drum had been a major player in the Midnight War in his time, working alongside the Sting, the Dragon of Midnight, Sulak and even Kenneth Dred. He had defeated many foes and stopped many threats that the public never knew about. The last report covered Drum's repelling of a Kulan invasion but there were no further pages. The report stopped in mid-sentence.

"Captain?" asked Sheng.

"That's odd... the last page is missing. It stops in June 1957, right in the middle of a sentence about the Mandate. Strange." He went back to the filing cabinet and checked for loose papers. "I wonder what happened? Mr Dred kept these records for his own reference, he certainly was never going to publish them."

Angelina spoke up unexpectedly. "The connection is obvious. This Ugamesh, whoever he might be, was sighted at the same time Mark Drum's record ends. What happened between them? Did one of them kill the other? Did Ugamesh make off with Drum's wife, or did she maybe go willingly with him?" She took out her phone. "Excuse me, it's been an hour. I am supposed to report. Miss Colt is waiting to hear from me."

She walked off a few paces and listened to the ringing on the other end. After a long two minutes, she snapped her phone shut and turned to them with a stricken expression. "No answer? I have to go!" she swung for the door but Bane restrained her with a hand on her arm. "Wait, we have cars in the basement. We can get there faster than trying to get a cab. Sheng, keep looking and stand by. You may be needed as back-up."

"Understood." As Bane and Angelina ran out of the room, Sheng Mo Yuan grinned to himself. It was funny to him how oblivious Bane was to women. With all the awesome capabilities the Dire Wolf had, there were still blank areas in him. He never watched movies or TV or listened to music. He didn't care about pets; he was civil to dogs but he showed no urge to pet them. And although Bane's long-term lover Cindy was away at Tel Shai and not at all likely to ever show up unexpectedly, the Wolf just showed no interest in any of the gorgeous women who frequently turned up in these cases. Argent lost the smile as he suddenly wondered if at some fundamental level there was something wrong with Jeremy Bane.

As they raced down the stairs to the front hall, Bane said, "Angelina, grab your coat and wait on the front steps. I'll come around in a car in less than a minute. Got it?"

"Got it," she snapped, struggling into her coat and through the door into the vestibule. As the door closed behind her, he swung around into the walk-in closet to his left. The panel in its back swung inward and he leaped down steep concrete steps, along a narrow walkway with the vault to one side and the arsenal to the other. Through a rough plank door at the end of the hall, he hopped down three wooden steps into a garage which held two cars. The Subaru seemed like the better choice. He snatched the keys from where they hung on a hook just inside the door. He had the car started and going up the ramp with its sharp turn, then into the alley and out onto Lexington Avenue. In just under a minute, he was indeed pulling over to let Angelina in the passenger seat. She had seen enough of the inside of KDF headquarters, there was no reason for her to learn too much.

Heading down to the village, Bane ran one red light and exceeded the speed limit just enough that he would not be pulled over. He swerved over to the curb at 19 Bleeker Street and they both saw the front door was wide open. Before the car came to a halt, Angelina Delgado was out and racing into that building with her gun held up beside her head. "Miss Colt!"

Bane was right behind her, despite having to turn off the car and slam the door. He found her in the office, where overturned furniture and scattered papers showed a struggle. Angelina rushed through the rest of the building while the Dire Wolf stayed and stared at the scene. It didn't look right somehow. From what he had seen of Elizabeth Colt, and what he had heard about her, she would not have been taken so easily. One chair was turned over. A handful of papers had been scattered off the desk onto the floor. Against even two or three big men, Colt would have wrecked the office in her resistance. And she had been armed. In a situation like this current siege, she would have had her pistol near at hand at all times. Bane went over and examined the door. No damage. The bolt had been opened from within.

Angelina rushed into the office, her eyes big with fear. "I can't find her anywhere--"

"Take a breath," he said. "Stand still. Take a breath and hold it. Good. Angelina, I think Colt let herself be taken by Gelengim. She opened the door, three Gelengim shoved in and grabbed her, but she knew this was going to happen. She planned it."

IV.

"WHAT? That's insane!"

"No," Bane said. "She knows what she's doing. It takes a lot of confidence to let yourself be captured by the enemy to locate them. I've done it a few times." He started picking up the papers and looking them over. "Angelina, look for a message she may have left us."

"Oh, we have our ways," the young woman said. She went over to a small mirror hanging at eye level by the door, unlatched its frame and swung it open. On the back of the mirror was written a message in small precise lettering, DO NOT ANSWER MY CALL- LET BANE TRACE IT. E/C

"Very neat," muttered the Dire Wolf as he stood behind her. "You two have thought things through."

She smiled. "We have a lot of signals for each other. Miss colt is the best detective in New York!" As she spoke, her cell phone rang and she took it from her coat pocket. It was a small Nokia, the ringtone was a bugle's cavalry charge. As soon as her phone sounded, Bane reacted by taking something from an inner pocket of his jacket. It was a little bigger than a cell phone, made of black metal and he punched a few buttons rapidly.

"It's still ringing," Angelina said. "It's Miss Colt's number. Are you tracing it?"

"I've got the address," he said and pocketed the device. "Let's go."

"How did you do that? Is that a new app? I didn't know you could trace an incoming call that way when it wasn't even on your phone...?"

Bane was already heading for the door. "We have advanced technology," he said. "She knows that. She's researched me and the KDF more than she admits."

As Angelina Delgado turned off the lights and locked the front door, she was watching Bane with suspicion. "Who ARE you, really? Miss Colt thought you were a government agent, some sort of covert assassin."

The Dire Wolf paused by his car. "I don't work for the government. I'm a knight of Tel Shai. Maybe I can explain it to you at some point. Let's go." He slid into the driver seat and started up the engine. As Angelina buckled herself in, Bane took out his Link again and spoke into it. "Argent?"

"Standing by," came the familiar voice.

"I want you to come down to 19 Bleeker Street and watch the house there. Assassins may be coming by, and I might need you as back-up nearby. I can't give you orders anymore, of course-"

A scoffing noise came from the Link. "You will always be our captain! I am on my way."

"Thanks," Bane said and pulled away from the curb. We don't have far to go. The signal came from Canal Street." By now, it was getting light and traffic was beginning to stir. Lights were going on in windows, an occasional bundled-up figure hurried down the sidewalk. seeing an open spot where Canal Street began, Bane eased in and turned to the woman beside him. "You still getting that call?"

"Yes," Angelina said. "Miss Colt must have just dialled me and let it ring. Are you sure the call came from here?"

Bane just said, "Let's go." He jumped out and hurried down the street. Nothing was open yet. On the corner of the next block, the ground level establishment was a store with HAI FUNG GIFTS AND SOUVENIRS painted across its window. The windows on the floor above were all dark. The Dire Wolf studied the three-story building for a second, spotting a fire escape on the side facing a taller brick building. He turned to Angelina, "You willing to be bait?"

"Whatever it takes," she answered promptly. Her dark eyes flashed with anger, not fear.

"All right. I want you to walk over by that fire escape and pace back and forth. Pretend you're talking on your phone. I'll be watching."

"Fine," she answered and strode briskly across the street. Bane watched as she stopped by the side of the building, holding her phone up by her ear and moving back and forth a few steps. The Dire Wolf stood by, forming his back-up plan for if nothing happened but, within a few minutes, the door next to her opened and a dark man in a long coat lunged out to clutch at her. Angelina Delgado pivotted on one foot and smacked the barrel of her .38 down across the man's head as if she meant to kill him. The Gelengi fell straight on his face as Bane ran up.

Angelina gave him a strange little smirk. "Didn't expect that, did you?"

"No," he admitted. "I underestimated you, to be honest." He knelt over the man. "He'll live, I guess. You want his gun as a second piece?"

"Sure." She pocketed the slim automatic but kept her revolver in hand. "He was standing inside the door as a sentry. I guess he recognized me."

Bane dragged the limp form over behind a dumpster and covered it with loose pieces of cardboard. "I'm wearing bulletproof protection," he said to Angelina, "so I'll go first. Let's see what your boss has been up to." With her following right behind, the Dire Wolf entered the tiny vestibule, which smelled of cabbage and cigarette smoke. A flight of narrow wooden stairs led up and he caught the faintest creak of a foor board overhead. As one of the men from Ashfahan appeared at the landing above, Bane was already leaping up the stairs faster than a real wolf and driving his fist deep into the Gelengi's stomach. The man made a deep whooshing noise as the air left his lungs and Bane threw him to one side. A door was open and light coming from it. The Dire Wolf plunged through the doorway, meeting another Gelengi head-on. A sharp short left hook spun the man completely around, and a follow-up backfist sent him onto his back so hard his head bounced as it hit the floor.

Whirling around, Bane saw no other assassins in the room. Tied to a plain wooden chair was Elizabeth Colt, with her clothing disarrayed and blood around her nose. She was gagged with a white handkerchief. As she saw Bane storm in, her eyes lit with glee. A second later, Angelina hurried past and started working the gag loose. "Oh, boss!" she yelped. "Oh my God, are you all right?"

"I'm okay, I'm okay," Colt reassured her. "All they did was slap me a little and try to intimidate me. I've been through a lot worse, you know that, we both have." As her eyes met Bane's, she smiled painfully through bruised lips. "I had my phone stuck down in the back of my pants, where I could just hit redial with one finger."

"Lucky they tied you up that way, then." Bane stepped closer and slid one of the silver daggers from his sleeve to slice through the clothesline binding her. They were a matched pair given to him by Kenneth Dred, and he kept them always honed. "Or that they didn't search you better."

"I'd have thought of something," she snapped. Getting to her feet, she buttoned her blouse and straightened her jacket. "No. Wait, I do have to thank you. I guess you can be trusted."

Angelina had gone to the dingy bathroom, found a clean washcloth and wet it in the sink. She brought it to Colt, who wiped her face gingerly. "Ow. I'm going to have some bruises. Listen, what did you two find out?"

"Not much," Bane said, and glanced at Angelina. The Spanish girl took over, "All they seem to know is that Ugamesh appeared in Salem in June 1957, the same time that Mark Drum disappeared. There was something about Ugamesh being one of three mystic beings from the Darthan Age, whatever that is, along with Azalin and Vendigor. I tried reporting to you, got no answer, and Mr Bane drove me to our office. When you called my phone, he traced the signal with some device I didn't recognize and here we are."

Colt finished making herself presentable and smiled at the Dire Wolf. "See, I was counting on the reports of you using tech a bit more advanced than anyone else has. I always have a back-up plan but this worked fine. There were six of these men here, Gelengim you call them. None of them spoke English well. About all I could understand is that they really want to find Ugamesh, whoever or whatever Ugamesh is. I was no help, not that I wanted to be. They gagged me and left me here with that one as a guard." She looked down at the man on the floor. "You throw a decent punch, Jeremy."

"Thanks. Where did the rest of them go?"

"I'm figuring they went to my office," she said, already heading for the door. "I assume you have a car outside?" she asked over one shoulder. The bright blonde hair swung as she turned her head. Angelina followed close behind but Bane paused to inject the stunned Gelengi with the enervation drug. He wouldn't kill in cold blood and he couldn't turn these men over to the NYPD, but at least the Gelengim he treated would be no threat for a few days. Straightening up, he trotted down the stairs and caught up with the two women as they reached the bottom. The door was still open and cold air was blowing in.

As Bane chirped the car doors open with his keys, Angelina climbed in the back and Elizabeth Colt in the front passenger seat. He circled around to get behind the wheel and swung out onto Canal Street. Traffic was beginning to get underway by this point. Colt said, "One of those Gelengim took my gun. I need to report it missing if we don't recover it right away."

From the back seat, Angelina handed her the automatic, "Here, boss. We lifted this off one of the enemy."

"Well, that seems fair." Colt examined the weapon critically, then held onto it since it wouldn't fit in her emprty holster. A minute later, they arrived at the house on Bleeker Street and saw the lights were on in the ground floor windows. Angelina said, "we left those lights off, someone's in there." Bane pulled the car over to the nearest available spot, a block further down and they all piled out and walked quickly up to the building. Both Colt and Angelina had their guns in hand.

As they neared, though, the front door opened and an Asian man stuck his smiling face out. "Hey there!" he sang out cheerfully.

V.
After Bane introduced everyone, they followed Sheng into the office. It was a shambles. Two chairs were broken into pieces, and the desk was on its side. Lying in a neat row were three men tied with their own belts. One had a broken arm, bent backwards, and another had blood from a flattened nose caked on his face. A pile of pistols and daggers was stacked out of their reach,

"You notice they are all alive, captain?" Sheng said proudly.

"Good work, Sheng. Did they say anything?"

"Sorry, no. The fools came in through a window toward the rear. When they reached this room, I turned on the lights and dealt with them."

Colt gave the Asian man a quizzical look. "You beat three men by yourself?" Going over to the prisoners, she found her own Beretta and inspected it for damage.

"Why not? I don't claim to be as good as our Dire Wolf here, but I have some ability."

She shook her head and went over to her desk. With Argent helping, she got it upright and in its usual spot. Colt suddenly glared at Sheng. "How did you get in here anyway?"

"I followed the assassins," he answered blandly. "I was watching for them from nearby. I went in the door after them. When they started searching this office, I stood in the doorway and turned the light on."



"Oh. I see. Thank you. You work with Bane here?"

"We are colleagues," Sheng said, turning to the Dire Wolf. "Captain, what's our next move?"

"Hold it right there!" Elizabeth Colt moved to face the two men at arm's length. "This is my office and my case. These men were trespassing on my property. Now, I'm grateful for the help you boys have given, but you are not going to just take over. Angelina and I are not your helpless damsels in distress. Let's get that clear."

Neither Bane nor Sheng said anything. After a pause, Colt went on, "Jeremy, you said that when your friend Khang died, you and your friends emptied the building of anything relating to the supernatural, the Midnight War as you call it. Have I got that straight?"

"Yes," Bane said simply.

"So what are these men looking for here?"

The Dire Wolf scowled and started pacing. It was hard for him to hold still. "Actually, I've been wondering that myself. I would have sworn we cleaned this building out. We spent almost two weeks covering every inch. Then the building was sold and a group of artists made the place into a gallery with two workshops. That was the last I heard."



"When I was looking for a new office, my realtor said this building had been vacant for over a year," Colt told them. "During that time, it had been sealed up. I saw no sign anyone had been in here."



Bane went over to examine the unconscious men. "Huh. These thugs are not going to be answering questions any time soon." He began searching them. "Elizabeth, you were talking to people who had known Mark Drum. Did any of them have helpful information about his last days?"



"Not much," she admitted. She watched Bane closely as he turned out one empty pocket after another. Except for weapons, these Gelengim seemed to carry no essentials. "They all said Drum was planning a long vacation. His wife Sonia was due in October, and he wanted to be sure she and the baby were safe. His last case was supposed to be minor. Someone had stolen some cursed talismans- I can't believe I'm saying this with a straight face! Some cursed talismans, jewels apparently. Drum went into a building on Eleventh Avenue and a bomb went off. Some thought he was killed instantly, some told me his body had been taken away by a man with white hair."



Bane glanced up. "Chase."



"Pardon?"



"John Robert Chase. He has short white hair. I think he claimed Drum's body." Bane stood up. He was holding a lot in. He could never tell these people but he knew that Chase had in fact taken the broken dying body of Mark Drum beyond the real world. Before the face of Jordyn, Drum had been remade as Khang, the silver man who had been a founding member of the Kenneth Dred Foundation. Khang himself had not known his origins for years and, when he finally found out the truth, he had claimed the very building they were standing in now.



But Khang was gone now, and he could not give Bane any answers....



Seeing the expressions flicker across Bane's normally impassive face, Colt snapped, "You know more than you're spilling, Mr Dire Wolf! Don't you think we deserve an explanation?"



Bane lowered his head. "I'm sorry. I can tell you that I don't know anything about Ugamesh, or what happened to Drum's wife. I don't know what these assassins are looking for."



"Forgive my skepticism," Colt spat. "But it's my life and Angelina's life that seem to be at risk here."



The Dire Wolf stepped away from the unconscious men. "These Gelengi started following you after you spoke to that ex-cop. Maybe he's the logical place to begin looking for answers."



"Way ahead of you," Elizabeth Colt said. "I have a lunch date with him today. I'll ask him about Ugamesh."



Bane's face was normally serious, but now it seemed almost sad. He was uncomfortable with the whole investigation but didn't know why. "Sheng, do you have any duties today?"



"Nothing important. What do you want me to do, captain?"



"We have to decide on a plan," he answered as he turned toward the two female detectives. "Elizabeth, what do you suggest?"



"Thanks for asking! I thought you were going to try and give me orders. I think I should head to Queens now and meet the cop, Frank Giacomo, he's possibly in danger. You might stay here and handle any more of these Gelengi losers."



Bane glanced over at the three prisoners. "Sounds good. I have one idea. We should switch partners. Angelina sticks with me and Argent here will go with you. One detective, one fighter on each team. Argent can be faster or stronger than normal Humans when he focuses and he's a master of Kumundu."



"I'm a master of 'bullet to the head,'" she answered. "But I get your point. All right, Argent or Sheng or whatever your name is, my car is garaged over on Pierpont. Ready?"



Sheng grinned. He was wearing a light denim jacket, jeans and sneakers. If he was carrying weapons, they didn't show. As he followed Colt to the door, he glanced back at Bane and nodded.



Left alone, the Dire Wolf and Angelina Delgado tidied up the office a bit. None of the prisoners were stirring, and Bane went over to them, "These boys need some medical attention," he said. "It's still dark out, I'm going to take a chance." Picking up a Gelengi by the collar, he dragged the man to the front door, out onto the street and a few doors down. He left the unconscious man in an alley, and just missed being seen by a taxi rolling past. The Dire Wolf hurried to haul the other two assassins to the same spot, and got back in the office just as a car pulled up at the corner and waited for the light.



Angelina was watching him with anxiety. "Aren't they going to freeze?"



"I don't think so," Bane answered. "The other ones were retrieved by their cult pretty quick. But we can't leave them in here. This is no time to spend six hours in a police station getting interrogated and having to call for a lawyer." He started pacing the office. "Questioning Gelengim is a waste of time. Truth serum doesn't work on them, they're fanatics who can't be tricked or intimidated."



"We did not seach the room where these men were holding Miss Colt," Angelina said quietly. "And we have not questioned the landlord who rented it to them."



Bane gave her a pleased look. "You ARE a detective. Yes, those are good points. But your boss got a look at the apartment and she didn't say anything significant about it. If nothing develops by eight o'clock or so, we should find the landlord and question him. But the Gelengim came here when neither you nor Colt were around. I suspect something here leads to Ugamesh."



"And yet you and your friends searched this house and found nothing," the young Spanish girl said, almost to herself. "Which gives me an idea. Perhaps these Gelengim know where to look...."



"And we should let them? Sharp, Angelina." The Dire Wolf moved toward the door. "So far, we have taken eight of them out of action. Either they've been given the muscle relaxant or they're too beat up to be useful. Even fanatics like these must be getting a little disinclined to tangle with us directly."



Tugging her down-filled coat on, Angelina Delgado flashed a mischievous smile. "Then we give them a free path. Or so they think." Heading for the door, she turned off the office lights and stepped out into the cold. Bane moved past her to get in the Subaru and start it up. As if in a hurry, he pulled out and sped away.



VI.



Heading into Queens, Elizabeth Colt drove quickly but steadily in her Jeep Cherokee. Beside her, Sheng Mo Yuan sat in silence. Finally, she said, "What's the deal with you and Bane? Do you work for him?"



Sheng shrugged. "Not exactly. He was captain of our KDF team, he trained us and got us ready to work on our own. Even though he officially stepped down, he will always be our leader."



"Something else, too?"



"Yes." Sheng studied her face in the passing streetlights. This woman was beautiful but hard. And dangerous. Like a sword blade can be beautiful and dangerous. "When I came here from Chujir, I had no money, only the clothes I was wearing. Jeremy took me in and sponsored me to study at Tel Shai."



"Chujir," She repeated. "Is that in Asia?"



"Farther away than Asia. I don't see how I can explain it to you. There are places beyond the world."



Colt snorted. "If you say so. Look, we're coming up on Woodbury. Giacomo's house should be right down this street." She swung right and pulled up in front of a drab one-story white frame house exactly like the ones on either side of it. Two windows were lit on the ground floor, and the front door was ajar. As she saw this, the Beretta was in her hand. Colt whispered to Sheng, "Stay back," and crept up to a window from one side, just peeking her head around its edge.



She had seen dead bodies before. Francis Giacomo had been a pleasant old man in his seventies, with a white mustache and not much hair elsewhere. He was lying face up, the front of his blue and white pajama shirt had garish red blood covering it. His hands were curled into claws. Despite Colt's instruction, Argent had approached the other window and looked in on a living room torn apart. He gestured for Colt to cross over.



After a few seconds, she whispered, "They were looking for something large. None of the cushions are sliced open, the bookcase is undisturbed. I think they were searching for something at least man-sized." She pressed a hand to Sheng's shoulder. "Stay here. There may be some still in there."



Argent disregarded this and went through the half-open door. As he stood there surveying the scene, two of the Gelengim clattered down the stairs from the second floor and one of them fired three times with a heavy .45. Argent twitched as the slugs impacted him, his body reacting as if someone had gently lobbed softballs at him. As the assassin took more careful aim and fired again, Sheng raised his open hand in a slapping gesture. There was a ricochet noise and the Gelengi grunted and fell dead with a bullet hole in the middle of his face. Now Argent rushed forward up the staircase, suddenly moving quicker than a normal man, tackling the other Gelengi and flinging him down the steps. The man hit the floor hard and glared up to see the barrel of Colt's Beretta inches from his face.



"Some trick," Elizabeth Colt said. "If I didn't know better, I'd swear you slapped that slug back at the guy who fired it."



"I did," answered Sheng. "I can focus my energy to be faster or stronger or to be impervious. But only one thing at a time."



"You two are going to have me believing your nonsense," she said. "Do you speak this loser's language?"



"Ashfahani? Nope. See if he knows any English," Argent added dubiously.



With that, the Gelengi hopped up to his feet, whipping a wicked knife from behind his belt and going straight for Colt. He seized her gunhand by the wrist, yanking it upward and drew back his knife and in that instant, Argent's stiff open hand smacked like an axe at the base of his neck. The snapping noise was clear and unmistakeable. As the Gelengi sagged to fall face down, Elizabeth Cole shook her hand loose from his dying grasp.



"In the car!" she snapped and rushed from the house. With Sheng right behind her, Colt dove behind the wheel of her Jeep and roared off before he had settled in his seat. As Argent struggled with the seat belt, he said, "We didn't search for clues."



"No time," she answered, swinging right and then left at corners, zig-zagging away. "Someone was bound to call 911 after those shots. We would be standing there with three corpses, one of which is an ex-cop. Good luck. We'd be answering questions for the next 48 hours and we have other things to do."



Sheng made no comment. After a second, he asked, "You observed the Gelengi were looking for something large."



"At least the size of a person," Colt reflected. "My guess is that they are looking for the remains of Ugamesh himself. He might be a sort of holy relic to them.""



"Assuming he's dead."



Elizabeth Colt gave Sheng a hostile glare. "He's been missing since 1957! Of course he's dead."



Argent shrugged, "We can only hope."



VII.



Pulling into the municipal parking lot, Bane shut off the engine and looked into the eager face next to him. She's pretty, he thought in a disinterested way, she and Colt almost certainly make good use of their looks in their work. "This time of year, it won't start getting light for another hour or two."



Angelina had tied her hair behind her in a thick ponytail and was tugging a black wool cap down over her head to cover her ears. "Mr Bane. I bet those Gelengi characters were watching the office and what's more, I think they broke in as soon as we drove away."



"Agreed," he said as he opened his door. "Let's see what they're up to. " He stepped out and she came around to stand next to him. They started briskly back toward Bleeker Street. A police car went slowly by, and he could see the officers checking them out, but the car kept going. There was little traffic and no one on the street. As they strode along in the freezing air, Angelina said, "Did you ever meet that Mark Drum person?"



"What? No. Of course not. I probably wasn't even born when he died."



"Probably? What do you mean?"



Bane hesitated. "I was an orphan. I don't really remember anything of my childhood. As far as I can figure, I was born around 1957 or 1958."



"Really? Where did you live?"



"On the streets. I had a few 'guardians' until I was eleven or twelve. Two drunk old men that I stole food for and they gave me a place to sleep. When I was twelve, I was big enough to go on my own."



Angelina sounded horrified. "So... your childhood is a blank? Don't you want to find out more?!"



"Not really," Bane said. "I live in the present. You know, I don't like talking about this. There's your building, across the street." He pulled her into a dark doorway and hushed her. Parked in front of the building was a beige Nissan Ultima. Through the half-drawn curtains in the office window, a figure could be seen moving back and forth.



"They're in there!" she whispered angrily. The detective reached under her coat for her gun, but Bane put a hand on her shoulder.

"Wait a second," he said. Suddenly he was gone. Angelina had seen people move quickly but nothing like this. The Dire Wolf was across the street in a dark blur, coming up behind the Nissan in a crouch. He yanked the driver's door open and there was a soft thud. A few seconds later, he closed the door again and flashed back to where she waited.

"I'm afraid the driver's dead," he told her. "He had a gun in his hand and I couldn't take a chance he would shoot while I was struggling with him. The noise would bring all the Gelengim back out." There was a jingling noise. "Here's the keys. Those assassins are in for a surprise if they try to make a quick getaway."

"How- how can you do things like that? I could hardly follow your moves."

Bane shrugged. "I was born with enhanced reflexes. Just luck. Well, that and years of training and practice." He studied the building across the street. "You know, that worked okay when you distracted the Gelengi and I slugged him. Are you up to that again?"



"Absolutely," she said. "I should walk up to the door and just walk in?"



"I think so. All their attention will be on you." Bane watched as the young girl started to stroll across the street and up to the door. As soon as she was moving, he leaped forward himself, going far too one side and approaching the building in a low crouch, his fingertips almost touching the sidewalk. He came in from the side the front door opened on, so that when the Gelengi inside swung it outward, Bane was concealed behind the door.

"You guys again!" Angelina said saucily. "I'm getting tired of you."

The Gelengi said something that sounded like "Fergush analiki," and Angelina slowly raised her hands. Unseen by the assassin, Bane suddenly gripped the door, pulled it toward him and then slammed it shut with all his strength. The Gelengi made a grunting noise and fell down as the door hit him hard. Before he could get up or yell for help, the Dire Wolf had driven a short hooking punch to the face that sounded like a handclap. The assassin sagged in a limp heap. Bane searched him and found a revolver. As he popped the cylinder out with one hand and threw it far down the street, Bane muttered, "They must be running out of guns by now."

"Teach me how to do that!" Angelina squeaked. "I need lessons."

"As soon as we get free time," he promised. His own dart gun in hand, Bane stepped into the front room, with its couch and coffee table and magazines. To his right was Colt's office. All his senses focussed but he could not feel any presence. No one was in sight. Then he heard a faint noise below his feet. He glanced over at Angelina and she pointed to a white painted wooden door in the corner, mouthing "The basement," without saying it out loud. They stepped silently over and opened the door to reveal wooden steps leading down. Bane felt uneasy. Holstering the dart gun, he slid a dagger out from its sheath beneath his sleeve. The blade shimmered with a cold white sheen as if reflecting moonlight.



Bane slowly replaced the knife to its sheath. The silver blades had been ensorcelled long ago by the Eldarin, they disrupted spells and few creatures of the night could defy their edge. Now, the way they shone like that warned that something powerful and malevolent was nearby. He gestured for Angelina to stay behind him as he went down the stairs one step at a time with absolutely no noise.



The basement had been panelled, one wall held power tools and drawers holding screws, nails and the like. Two powerful bulbs up by the ceiling shown down. But the concrete floor had been left untouched. Three Gelengi stood in that basement, opening a cylindrical plug in the floor that had been concealed by a coating of thin cement. Two of the assassins crouched, struggling to grip small metal rings set in the plug and to budge it. Standing to one side, watching them with folded arms, was a Gelengi who wore a crimson robe of rich material, with a high collar and wide sleeves. Slung on a belt was a curved scimitar. This man had a shaven head and a short black beard, and seeing him, Bane suddenly understood the danger present. He had not really respected the Gelengim as opponents but this warlock was another matter.



Temur Kasten was grinning as he watched his slaves work. On his forehead was still the scar left by the Brand of Submission six years earlier when Bane had tricked him in a desperate showdown. With Temur under his domination, Bane could have easily killed the sorceror but instead he had returned the man to his homeland for judgement. What a mistake. Here he was again. Not for the first time, the Dire Wolf wished he could kill in cold blood but it just was not in him. All his instincts rebelled against it. Right now, he could easily snatch Angelina's revolver and put some lead in the warlock's heart but he knew he couldn't actually do it.



From where he stood on the steps, Bane drew his dart gun and fired twice. The two Gelengi twitched and slapped at the sudden stinging pain in their necks. The darts hurt as they slapped home, and that was enough to distract the victims the second or two it took for the potent anesthetic to be injected into the bloodstream. Both men sagged to their knees and then sprawled out as if weary. The Dire Wolf snapped off two shots at Temur Kasten, but the warlock slapped the darts aside with a gesture.



"YOU again?" laughed the warlock. "Oh, I am glad to see you again."



"I bet," answered Bane. He stepped off the stairs and glanced over where the cylinder of cement was still rising up from the floor, by itself.



"Ugamesh is eager to be free. To slay the unbelieving dogs of this world. To gather gold and silver into a mountain for the glory of Draldros. To line the roads with the skulls of his victims!" Temur Kasten raised a long-nailed finger in reproach. "Do not think you can delay his triumph, American. The first of the Three Sleepers wakes. When the Three Sleepers join hands, the wall between the worlds will fall..."



"He'll go right back to sleep if I have anything to say about it," Bane growled and rushed at the warlock. From Temur Kasten's open hand flashed a bolt of lurid red lightning that struck Bane full-on and flung him hard against the wall. The Dire Wolf was up on his feet again in an instant. In the collar of his turtleneck was a tiny Eldar talisman that had saved him many times before. Dark smoke swirled from his chest, where a hole had been burnt in his jacket but he himself was unharmed. Again, Temur cast a bolt of dark force but Bane had whipped one of the silver daggers out and he deflected it to one side. The warlock looked into the cold grey eyes glaring at him and saw only death.



Before either man could move, the cylinder came to rest, taller than a tall man, marked with strange symbols. Cracks ran up and down its length and fragments cracked and broke off. A chunk of the concrete was punched out from within and a huge hand in red metal armor reached out, clawing the air.



VIII.



As Ugamesh began to free himself, Bane leaped at Temur Kasten again and smashed a reverse backfist that broke the warlock's nose. Even as Temur reeled, the Dire Wolf raised his open hand and brought its rigid edge down like a hatchet to the base of the man's neck. The Gelengi sorceror dropped to his knees, trying hopelessly to defend himself and Bane drew back his fist for the killing blow. Before he could strike, he was seized by the back of his jacket and lifted into the air like a puppy by the skin of its neck. Struggling to get free, Bane twisted around and saw what was holding him in an unbreakable grip.

Well over six feet tall and broad, the figure was concealed entirely in bright red armor. It looked vaguely like a medieval knight, all metal plates from gauntlets to greaves, with no ornamentation. The helmet was a plain bullet shape, and the face plate had no eye openings. That blank metal surface regarded Bane as if the being within could see out perfectly well. In another second, the Dire Wolf had wriggled out of his black sport jacket and was free. He leaped a few feet away, out of reach of those grasping mitts and whirled to face Ugamesh.

"Slay him, great one!" screamed Temur Kasten, who was pressing one hand to his bleeding nose.

"Quiet, you!" Bane retorted. He crossed his arms in front of him and straightened them out with a silver dagger in each hand. Their blades gleamed with chill white light in that basement. Ugamesh paused, the helmet bent forward as if he was peering at those knives. "Can you hear me?" Bane asked the armored figure and repeated it in Ashfahani. No answer came. The Dire Wolf stalked in closer, moving the daggers in a tight figure 8 pattern. Suddenly he leaped in and the dagger in his left hand scraped across the chest plate of the armor, leaving a shallow gouge and a shower of sparks. But a big metal hand swung faster than anyone could have expected, cracking brutally against his head. Bane spun halfway around and fell. Even in his dazed pain, he did not let go of the silver daggers.



Ugamesh took no further action. He stared down as Bane fought groggily up to his knees. Seeing this, Temur Kasten drew the scimitar from his scabbard and twirled it, stepped directly over Bane with the weapon swinging up and back. Two sharp cracking noises sounded in that basement. The warlock doubled up, dropping his sword, turned to the stairs and dropped to the cement floor.

Standing next to Angelina on the stairs, Elizabeth Colt lowered her Beretta. Her dark blue eyes were furious. "Jeremy! Are you all right?"

"I'm good," Bane answered as he got to his feet, backing away from Ugamesh. "Thanks, Elizabeth."

Now Sheng had squeezed past the two detectives and hurried to stand beside Bane. "I'm here, captain. Let's rip that armor off him."

"Hold on a second," Bane said. "Something funny here. Ugamesh hasn't attacked, he just defended himself." Raising his voice, the Dire Wolf called out in Ashfahari again, "Can you understand me? What do you want?"

The featureless dome of a helmet turned slowly from side to side, as if looking for something. Ugamesh raised his gauntleted hands with palms up, then dropped them to his sides. The great head drooped.

"What the HELL is wrong with him?" demanded Colt.

Ugamesh straightened, and the basement turned white with a soundless explosion of gralic force. For a few minutes, everyone was dazzled and their eyesight returned with swimming dark spots before their eyes. All four of them found themselves on the floor, not knowing they had been struck down by the blast.

"Whoa!" shouted Elizabeth Colt, blinking and rubbing her eyes. "What was that anyway?"

"He's gone," Bane observed. "Ugamesh has gating powers, that's rare. He could be anywhere." The Dire Wolf knelt over the motionless form of Tenmur Kasten and examined him. "Dead as a mackerel. You got him right in the heart with one bullet, Elizabeth."

She snorted. "Another second and he would have been carving you up. So. What do we do with the carcass?"

"Hand it over to the Gelengi. They'll be recovering from the anesthetic darts. Without Ugamesh, they have no reason to be here in the world and I'm sure they'll take Temur Kasten with them back home."

"So... it's over?" Angelina said from the base of the stairs. "That's it?"

Jeremy Bane was kneeling by the cracked rubble of the cylinder that had contained Ugamesh. "No. Not at all. Maybe you two have no more to do with this mess, but my hunt is just starting. There were Three Sleepers, remember. The First is loose and he will be going to free the other two. If they join up, the walls between the worlds will fall and it will be an apocalypse the human race won't survive. Attacks will come from Fanedral, from Maroch, from Okali." He stood up and turned to Sheng. "And we're the only ones who can stop it."


12/31/2013