"The Shark That Walks"
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dochermes"The Shark That Walks"
12/3-12/5/1990
I.
At one o'clock on a sultry humid afternoon, Jeremy Bane emerged from the San Dirago airort and glanced around him with only vague interest. He was wearing his usual outfit of all black... slacks, turtleneck and sport jacket, inappropriate for tropical heat. Sweat broke out in beads on his face and neck, but he didn't notice. For once, the pale grey eyes were dull and withdrawn. The Dire Wolf looked around, frowning, then turned to the little blonde standing next to him.
At five feet one and barely a hundred pounds, Cindy Brunner seemed much more comfortable but then she was wearing only a light cotton dress and sandals, with her hair pulled back in a thick pony tail and sporting oversized round sunglasses. Hanging from one shoulder was a small white handbag. The telepath gazed back up at her lover and partner for the past decade and she mustered a smile. "Awake yet?"
"I guess," Bane replied with uncharacteristic vagueness. "I must have been really out. Did I sleep the whole time?"
"You did!" she told him. "And you really needed it. Once your body accepted that it was trapped on a plane, it gave in and you were out like a light. About time."
Bane stretched and stifled a yawn. "Okay. Now you promised you'd explain this. First thing this morning, you dragged me in a taxi to Newark Airport and refused to answer any questions. Here we are. I never heard of San Dirago."
"Actually not too far from the Florida Keys," she said. Cindy lowered her shades and gave him a mischievous glance. "Closer to Cuba. I've never been here but my sister Liz came here on her honeymoon and talked about it for the next year. Come on." She took his hand and tugged him across the tarmac to the open gate in the chain link fence which encircled the rather small airport. Tourists strode happily past them, chatting and pointing at the city. A few weary businessmen trudged along, dragging their luggage on wheeled carts. A row of yellow taxis with red roofs sat idling along the street, accepting the passengers as they rushed up.
"Not for us," she declared, stepping out on the sidewalk and turning right. Guizar was the capital and largest city on San Dirago, and it looked modern enough. The biggest obvious difference from New York was that most of the people on the streets were short, stocky, with olive skin and curly black hair. The signs were in Spanish and snatches of unfamiliar Mariachi-sounding music came from cars. She saw Bane straighten up a little and take an interest in his surroundings. He began scanning the streets in his usual way, taking in details with rapid accuracy. Seeing this lifted her heart.
As they walked along in the sullen heat, Bane suddenly seemed to come back to life. "You realize we don't have any luggage, right? Just what we're wearing?"
"Exactly," she said. "You got your Trom armor under your clothes, the silver daggers under your sleeves, the usual hidden gadgets in concealed pockets. I've got our checkbook, our Platinum Visa and American Express cards and two thousand dollars in small bills in my handbag." She paused in front of a store which sold luggage and furniture. "Here. We need a knapsack for you and a little suitcase for me."
She dragged him inside, where they were enthusiastically greeted by the owner in passable English. In a few minutes, they had selected a huge knapsack with a dozen outer pockets for Bane and a small tan leather suitcase for Cindy. The owner happily accepted American dollars. Scanning his surface thoughts as they made the purchase, Cindy decided he was only overcharging them a little and she could accept that. They got out before he could start trying to sell them a dinette set.
Back out on the street, Bane slung the knapsack over one shoulder and allowed the faintest of smiles across his narrow face. For the next hour, they picked up clothing. Socks, underwear, two bras, khaki shorts for both of them and white sneakers. She bought two colorful short-sleeved blouses for herself and three plain T-shirts for Bane in white, red and green. Then a second lightweight dress for her and a white button-front shirt for him. He went along with all this in growing amusement. At a pharmacy, she rounded up toothbrushes, toothpaste, shampoo, bars of soap and mouthwash. most of their purchases went into the knapsack.
"I think we're all set," Cindy announced finally. They had been walking the streets for two hours. "If I remember right, Hidalgo House should be a few streets over. Yep, there it is. That's where my sister and Joe stayed on their honeymoon."
They approached a twenty-story building that looked like a presidential palace. On a canopy extending out into the parking lot was HIDALGO HOUSE in golden script. A doorman in a military-style uniform, complete with white gloves and braided epaulets, watched them approach and opened the glass door for them. Bane was frowning again as they walked across a lobby with marble floors and red velvet wall hangings and a crystal chandelier. "Is this necessary?" he muttered low to her. "All we need is something simple."
"Trust me," she answered. At the desk, she spoke with the clerk and admitted they had no reservations because the trip had been a sudden necessity. Cindy's good looks and relaxed charm almost always worked wonders, and the pudgy clerk grinned ingratiatingly as he decided finding them a decent suite would not be a problem. They got rooms on the ninth floor. Cindy paid him with her American Express card, showed her passport and thanked him profusely. No, she said, they would not need a porter.
Heading up in the elevator that had brass furnishings and polished wood walls, Bane still seemed unhappy. "I don't see why we need all this."
"Jeremy, I don't think it ever sank in with you. You are filthy rich. Kenneth Dred left you an inheritance of just over one hundred million dollars. And you've amassed a war chest from defeated enemies that triples that. Heck, after the Snake War alone, we brought home truckloads of illicit cash." She laughed easily. "I've been living at headquarters and socking away my KDF stipend for the past ten years myself."
The Dire Wolf shrugged. "I never gave it much thought. It was just a way to carry on our work."
"Well, now we deserve to live a little." The door dinged open on the ninth floor and they walked down the hallway until they found their suite on the west corner. It was cool, dry and as elegant as all but the finest hotels in Manhattan could match. The iron balcony looking out over San Dirago Harbor was big enough to serve as a room itself. Cindy inspected the furnishings in the airy sitting-room, with its comfortable armchairs and a broad sofa in maroon covering. There was a sideboard that held glasses and a few assorted whiskey bottles, a walk-in tiled shower in the huge bathroom, the double bed with its silk canopy in the bedroom. She declared herself satisfied. She glanced at a painting on one wall that showed a horse rearing on a hill but had no idea if it was original or not.
Bane lowered his knapsack to the overstuffed easy chair that faced a big screen TV. "I think I know why you're doing this, Cin. Thanks. It's meant well."
"After what happened? When we lost half our team and disbanded the KDF? Yeah, I think we need to come back to life a little, hon. Not to trivialize things but that was a month ago. What have you done since the funerals and paperwork were over?"
He looked out at the ocean, sparkling in the sun almost at their feet. "Not much. I haven't taken any cases. I guess I'm retired."
"You've moped around the headquarters. Not eating much, sleeping in naps whenever you're too tired to stay awake. Ted has kept his clinic going and works two nights a week at Metro General. Gary is staying at Tel Shai to meditate, Sulak and Valera went back to Androval. We need to move on too. Our lives aren't over."
The Dire Wolf exhaled sharply. "What I need most is a hot shower. I'm all sticky, and I guess I haven't shaved for a few days."
Cindy dug through the knapsack for soap and shampoo. "I'll join you. Then we will have some serious loving and a long nap before picking a restaurant for dinner." She grinned impishly up at him. "Ah, I see that smile. Come on, Jeremy, admit I'm always right."
He shrugged off the black sport jacket in relief. "I can't argue with that."
That night, they ate at a decent restaurant overlooking a row of yachts and sailboats tied up to moorings. The Delacruz had a patio with open-work iron tables and a breeze coming in from the ocean made the night air more bearable. Cindy was wearing another light cotton dress of white with yellow flowers, belted at the waist. Bane had the black slacks on again but he wore a dress white shirt without the jacket. They had decided to try whatever jumped out at them from the menu. It turned out to be curry goat and dumplings, fried plantains and rice with kidney beans. The gaunt Bane ate enough for two husky men, his enhanced metabolism meant he was always starving.
They ordered wine but couldn't finish it. This was a side-effect of the Tagra tea regimen they had been on for a decade. At this point, their bodies healed from extensive damage quickly and their aging had slowed, but their systems also rejected poison. Evidently, by now their bodies had adapted to where the wine was difficult to swallow without immediately spitting it back up, so they had to settle for fruit punch and ice water.
Finally done, they sat for a while watching the crescent moon rise overhead. "Feeling better?" she asked.
"Sure, I was starving. That isn't what you meant, though."
"No. Look, Jeremy. You're thirty-three and I'm thirty-two. We're in perfect health, we have no kids and no resonsibiities really, and we're incredibly rich. I hereby declare that we will spend the next month or two enjoying ourselves. Concerts. Museums. Art galleries. Let's see Rome and Paris and Rio! We deserve a long vacation."
For the longest moment, Bane did not reply and she had a twinge of fear that he would reject the idea. But he nodded and said, "We've earned it. What's your plan for right now?"
"Oh, I don't know... a walk around the city tonight, then spend tomorrow swimming and lying in the sun. Maybe rent a boat."
"The Midnight War may find us," Bane said glumly. "It always does."
"Jeremy, no! Absolutely not. No Voodoo cults, no Zombies, no Midnight War at all. Let the world save itself for a while. Listen, have you ever wanted to grow a beard?"
"I...never thought of it," he answered slowly. "Why?"
Before she could answer, a tall black man in a white tropical suit came up to their table, Panama hat in hand. "Pardon me, but surely you are the Dire Wolf?"
II.
With an icy tone, Bane replied, "I don't know you, mister."
"No, we have never met," said the man calmly. He was very dark, with a shaven head and deepset thoughtful eyes. There was a faint accent underlying his speech. "But you ARE Jeremy Bane, and the young lady can only be Cynthia Lee Brunner. Yes, I can feel her mind reaching out now. I won't resist."
Cindy's eyes had narrowed as she stared up at him. "Ah. You're from Danarak. You're... a Bakwanga?"
"I am, my name is Kolkata. Your late associate Kwali was my cousin. We wrote often. May I sit down for a moment?" He placed a hand on the back of a chair in front of him and, as Bane nodded assent, he pulled it out and seated himself.
"I know Kwali is dead," he began quietly. "We have both lost much. To you, he was a teammate, a good friend I am sure, and a valued ally. To me, he was a kinsman. We played together as children. Kwali was the champion of our tribe, the wearer of Wakimbe's Claw."
Bane leaned forward. "I think I see. The Bakwanga want the Cat's-Claw back."
"Of course. One of the most potent talismans in the Midnight War. It has been passed from one champion to the next for millenia and that line must not be broken." Kolkata sounded sorrowful. "It is a great responsibility for my people."
"The Claw has been lost," Bane told him bluntly. "After the Final Halloween, we spent days searching the area where Kwali had fallen in action. Our mystic Nebel could not find a trace of it. I'm sorry, Kolkata, but I have no idea where Cat's-Claw is."
For the first time, the African's composure slipped as his mouth dropped open and he gasped as if he had been struck. "Oh no. I cannot go back to the elders and tell them that."
"Sorry. You can go to Necropolis and search for it yourself if you want, but I have to warn you. Those ruins are absolutely infested with Ghouls and Zombies." Bane tried to soften his voice. "I wish there was some way to help."
Kolkata seemed about to cry. "The Black Lion is our patron spirit, basically our god. 'God has fangs,' as our saying goes, 'to slay the wicked.' With Wakimbe's Claw lost, my people have no mission in life."
Cindy reached out to place a hand on the man's jacket sleeve. "Honestly. I know Kwali would have passed the talisman on to a successor if he had been able to. That was an awful night. We lost half our team before it was over. But you know, I think we could send you and some of your tribe there to search if you really want. It'll be dangerous."
"Thank you, miss. Perhaps the elders will approve such a mission. But I will not be on it. I will be dead by then. Without Cat's-Claw, I cannot hope to survive against the Shark That Walks." Kolkata pushed his chair back, but Bane stopped him with an upraised hand.
"I can see where this is leading," the Dire Wolf snapped. "Okay. Lay it on us, what is this Shark That Walks and why are you going to die?"
The tall black man let out a breath. "Ah. As you know, the bearer of Cat's-Claw has a burden to slay tyrants and bandits, to protect the innocent and slay the wicked. The elders sent Kwali an edict to come here.. to this very island.. and destroy the Shark That Walks as well as its followers. But Kwali perished before he could obey, and now Wakimbe's Claw is lost." Kolkata looked from one of them to the other. "I am not the warrior that Kwali was. I do not have his training or his warrior spirit. Yet it is now up to me. I will purchase a handgun and some protective charms and go into the hills to seek my doom."
Unexpectedly, Bane slammed his open palm down on the table so sharply that everyone jumped. "I knew it! Even when I don't look for trouble, it comes to me. The Midnight War never ends."
Kolkata drew back in resentment and rose to his feet. "I do not seek your help, Mr Bane. This is my responsibility."
"And it's mine as well," the Dire Wolf answered angrily. "I'm still a Tel Shai knight. And I can tackle this Shark That Walks with a chance at success. There's no decision to make, Kolkata, I'm in the game. Tell me everything you know about the threat."
Reluctantly, the African seated himself again. "Well.. not much IS known. There were a series of deaths last year on Dominguez twenty miles from here. The government sent troops to find whatever was mauling lone travelers but nothing came if it. Then three days ago, an old man was found by fishermen on the north shore here. Ripped to bits and, yes, partially eaten. What kind of wild animal eats the liver and nothing else? My people heard of the killing and the elders knew it was Shark That Walks, a Darthan beast long feared but seldom encountered. Few have seen it and lived, but it is said to be a mako with legs and arms like a man. A group of worshippers follows the monster to serve it and hide it."
Bane seemed to be growing less infuriated and more interested. "Hm. So you were sent by yourself to tackle this creature?"
"I volunteered. With Kwali gone, we have no champion. My chances are slim, I know, but we Bakwanga are driven by duty." He caught Bane's eye and said, "When I recognized you, I felt the Black Lion Himself had sent you here. Why else would you be on this island the same day I arrived here?"
"Beats me," Bane snorted. "I seem to be a magnet for trouble. Where can we find this Shark That Walks and his entourage?"
"They will be in the hills, not far from the ocean. Perhaps one will come into town to buy supplies."
"Are they African, like you?"
"Oh, no. The followers of Shark That Walks are from northern Europe. They are mostly blond men, tall and strong, with a few women among them." Kolkata glanced over at Cindy. "Kwali spoke well of you, miss. He said you are a Tel Shai knight yourself."
"You know it," she answered. "I'm not nuts about this. Not even a full day of vacation and we're chasing after something called a Shark That Walks. No rest for the weary. Well, Jeremy, when do you want to start?"
"Tonight," Bane said. "We're more rested than we normally are. I want to go back to the hotel to get my gear. Now I wish I had brought some more weaponry. Do you have a car, Kolkata?"
"I do. I leased a Ford Taurus, it is parked over there on the corner. Shall I drive you to your hotel, then?"
"Sure." Bane stood up and left a tip on the table. He gave a sad glance to Cindy. "When this is wrapped up, we'll try again. Maybe Paris, like you said."
"This is just a speed bump, not a stop sign," she said. The three of them headed to the street, where Kolkata's car waited, then went back to Hidalgo House. There were still four hours until midnight.
III.
Stopping at a pawn shop on a side street, Bane spent a full twenty minutes examining a Glock G22, partially disassembling it to see if it had been cleaned after use, testing its balance and scrutinizing it to the point where the elderly storekeeper was getting nervous. Finally satisfied, the Dire Wolf paid one hundred American dollars for it and also bought two 15-round clips of .40 ammunition after examining it as well. He was completely serious and would not be rushed. There were no suitable holsters, so he stuck it in his belt under his jacket. Looking around the store, he seemed interested in a short sword as well, but it was a replica and the steel was unacceptable. No ID was asked for, just cash for the gun, and the storekeeper seemed relieved when the intense young American with those strange pale eyes left the premises.
Back in Kolkata's car, the Dire Wolf said, "Too bad I couldn't bring my own weapon with me but getting through security is too uncertain. I don't trust automatics. Revolvers don't jam."
The tall African smiled, his perfect teeth flashing. "I am carrying a Colt .45 myself. American cowboy gun!" He pulled out into traffic packed with drivers who seemed to regard signs and right of way as mere suggestions. Kolkata headed north, toward the bay where the killing had taken place, and they discussed Kwali.
"It took a while before he warmed up to us," Cindy said. "Kwali was always so serious. The only time I saw him laughing was when we caught that scrawny old warlock in his underwear getting ready for a ceremony. I was laughing so hard I almost wet myself."
"My cousin was an amazing man. He was a scholar as well as a warrior. In his papers, I found a manuscript of over three hundred pages on the history of both Danarak and our neighbor Veganora. He also loved French poetry and he had read Tolstoy in the original Russian." Kolkata shook his head. "I have enough trouble dealing with English."
"Your English is fine," Bane said offhandedly. "Looks like we're getting close, I can see ocean. What do these followers get from dealing with the Shark Who Walks? What's in it for them?"
"Damned if I know," answered the African. "Maybe they delude themselves that he will reward them somehow. You don't seem skeptical about the existence of such a monster."
From the back seat, Cindy said, "I think we've met creatures like this before. Malakim. Darthan creations with near-Human intelligence. Dangerous certainly, but not a world-class threat."
"I hope you are right." Turning off his headlights, Kolkata pulled over to the side of the rudimentary dirt road which had deep ruts the past few miles. Dense brush and palm trees block what was ahead. "We must walk from here."
As Bane and Cindy got out, Kolkata sniffed the air. The salty tang was unmistakable, but there was no sound of waves or breakers. The three of them started making their way through the vegetation, with Kolkata leading the way. They headed up a steep hill and emerged on a rocky ledge that dropped sixty feet straight down to a jumble of jagged stone. Beyond that was a beach more pebble than sand, glowing white in the moonlight, and dancing on that beach were eight naked people.
It was a strangely disturbing sight, because the cultists moved in a circle in eerie silence, not even breathing hard. Both the men and the two women were big, healthy specimens in good shape. All were blonde, two of them had heavy beards. They spun and leaped and circled to the left. Then at some unheard signal, all formed a line facing the water and dropped to their knees. Every one of them bent forward to press forehead to the ground.
Out in the ocean, a sinister dark form broke the surface.
At first, it seemed to be a nine-foot-long black mako shark, but then it reared up on thick manlike legs and raised short arms with four-fingered taloned hands. The red eyes were set high on the head and moved over the supine worshippers with obvious intelligence. The monster strode slowly from the gentle surf to loom over the kneeling people, keeping its body parallel to the ground and its tail outstretched behind it.
Up on the ledge overlooking the scene, Bane and Cindy gave each other a knowing glance. A malak. These were unnatural hybrids created by the Darthan Kjes with secrets they had learned thousands of years ago. Intended to guard the island of Maroch, the malakim had been too vicious and too stubborn to be trained and the Darthim used them sparingly. How this one had ended up in the real world on its own was a mystery.
Then, from behind the row of worshippers, an older man stepped forward. He was also naked, an unappealing sight with his thin bony legs and round belly, but he held himself with dignity. In one hand was a short rod of copper-colored metal capped with a green gem that shimmered in the moonlight as if lit from within. As he raised this rod, the malak paused and stared sullenly at him.
"A Darthan blasting rod," whispered Cindy, "that's how they control the malak."
"It won't work for long," Bane hissed back. "Those things are untameable. Listen. Kolkata, hide off to one side and keep your gun ready. Cindy, I need you to confuse the malak at the right moment and make him careless. Okay?"
"I think I know what you're planning," she said, "and I don't like it."
"It'll work fine if you step in at the right time," Bane said and with that, he spun and raced back across the ledge to start making his way down through the brush toward the beach. In his all black outfit, he was difficult to spot in the dark and he had years of stealth training. In a few minutes, he was crouched beside a palm tree close enough to overhear what the cult leader was saying.
"Oh Great One, tonight you shall feed. We who love and obey you shall lead you to where fools are camping beneath the skies. Your belly shall be full. And we ask in return, only that you protect us when the Great Old Ones return." With this, the leader raised the Darthan wand and the green jewel flashed brightly. The malak drew back, hissing like a serpent, raising a thick-fingered paw defensively.
Watching from ten feet away, Jeremy Bane decided he had seen enough. Despite what the cult leader was saying, it was clear he was actually controlling the monster with the Darthan wand. Its blasting force could intimidate even a malak at close range. Bane suspected the leader was actually going to shepherd the brute toward the campers he had mentioned, and then the shark-thing's bloodlust would take over. Not tonight, he thought.
The next few seconds were a blur of action that caught all the cultists unprepared and left them confused. A gaunt figure in black rushed from the shadows, yanked the blasting rod away and struck the leader down with a hooking punch that cracked loud as a gunshot in the night. The man reeled wildly and fell on his face. Before the cult members had done more than lift their heads in uncomprehending surprise, the Dire Wolf was racing across the beach back to the tropical forest.
The malak rumbled deep within its cylindrical body, lowering its head to sniff at the dazed leader. The monster's jaws gaped opened, revealing double rows of triangular saw-edged teeth and it seemed about to take a sizeable bite from the helpless man. Then, twenty yards away, green light flared up brilliantly and a man's voice yelled, "Hey, stupid! Over here. This is what you want." Bane spun and hurried up toward the brush as the malak thundered forward on its short powerful legs. One cultist was still kneeling in the way and the beast stepped squarely on his back with its full thousand pounds, leaving a corpse underfoot.
Holding back his speed despite an understandable urge to go as fast as possible, Bane reached the rocky ledge and climbed up onto it. Both Kolkata and Cindy had concealed themselves. The Dire Wolf turned to face where the ledge projected out over the steep drop and managed to wait until the malak loomed up behind him. The giant brute lumbered forward and Bane ran toward toward the front of the ledge, waving the Darthan wand. As the green gem flashed, the Dire Wolf shouted, "Go and get it!" and flung the rod far out over the beach. Instantly he dropped and rolled to one side, missing being trampled by less than an inch as the malak stormed past him after the mystic artifact. Moving at full speed, the beast ran right off the ledge and spun once as it plummeted straight down to crash onto the jagged rocks sixty feet below.
Bane hopped up again to see Cindy and Kolkata emerging from the undergrowth. He climbed down the side of the ledge as quickly as he could, letting go to drop the final ten feet onto a flat patch. The hulk of the malak was twitching feebly, its tail lashing from side to side, but it could not rise. The red eyes glared at him with total hatred, and he could not blame it. Stepping closer but still staying out of reach, the Dire Wolf decided that the beast had a broken back and would never walk again. He drew the Glock from the small of his back and came around behind the malak. This would actually be an act of mercy. Just as Cindy and Kolkata reached him, Bane held the muzzle at point-blank range and emptied all fifteen bullets into the hideous head. Not much remained recognizable. He ejected the clip and inserted the fresh one, and let out a deep shuddering breath of released tension.
"Nice timing," Cindy said. "I didn't even get a chance to latch onto his mind before he was doing a swan dive."
"Here come his followers," warned Kolkata, pointing at the eight naked people cautiously approaching them. The African had drawn his own gun, and sight of it brought the cultists to a sudden halt.
Bane shouted, "Get lost, you fools! Get your clothes on and go home." When they didn't respond, he fired twice at their feet, pitching up spouts of dirt, and all the cultists ran away faster than they had ever moved in their lives. The Dire Wolf made a short scoffing noise. "Not as tough as Those Who Remember, I must say."
Walking over to where the Darthan wand had landed, Cindy Brunner picked it between thumb and forefinger as if it were dirty. "These things are always trouble, Jeremy. I vote we take it apart and smash the gem and scatter the metal over a large area."
"You're right. As usual. Darthan talismans can't be used safely for long. I felt dizzy just wielding it those few minutes." He turned toward Kolkata. "Okay, buddy. The Shark That Walks is taken care of. Can you go back to your elders and report?"
"Yes. And I must thank you. You risked your lives when you did not have to, both of you. The Bakwanga are grateful."
"It's what we are, we can't change." Bane prodded the lifeless bloody hulk of the malak with his boot. "I don't know what to suggest to do with this thing. Maybe cover it up with loose rocks. By the time anyone discovers the carcass, Cindy and I will be staring at the Eiffel Tower like any other disappointed tourists in Paris and this will be just another unsolved mystery."
11/21/2014
12/3-12/5/1990
I.
At one o'clock on a sultry humid afternoon, Jeremy Bane emerged from the San Dirago airort and glanced around him with only vague interest. He was wearing his usual outfit of all black... slacks, turtleneck and sport jacket, inappropriate for tropical heat. Sweat broke out in beads on his face and neck, but he didn't notice. For once, the pale grey eyes were dull and withdrawn. The Dire Wolf looked around, frowning, then turned to the little blonde standing next to him.
At five feet one and barely a hundred pounds, Cindy Brunner seemed much more comfortable but then she was wearing only a light cotton dress and sandals, with her hair pulled back in a thick pony tail and sporting oversized round sunglasses. Hanging from one shoulder was a small white handbag. The telepath gazed back up at her lover and partner for the past decade and she mustered a smile. "Awake yet?"
"I guess," Bane replied with uncharacteristic vagueness. "I must have been really out. Did I sleep the whole time?"
"You did!" she told him. "And you really needed it. Once your body accepted that it was trapped on a plane, it gave in and you were out like a light. About time."
Bane stretched and stifled a yawn. "Okay. Now you promised you'd explain this. First thing this morning, you dragged me in a taxi to Newark Airport and refused to answer any questions. Here we are. I never heard of San Dirago."
"Actually not too far from the Florida Keys," she said. Cindy lowered her shades and gave him a mischievous glance. "Closer to Cuba. I've never been here but my sister Liz came here on her honeymoon and talked about it for the next year. Come on." She took his hand and tugged him across the tarmac to the open gate in the chain link fence which encircled the rather small airport. Tourists strode happily past them, chatting and pointing at the city. A few weary businessmen trudged along, dragging their luggage on wheeled carts. A row of yellow taxis with red roofs sat idling along the street, accepting the passengers as they rushed up.
"Not for us," she declared, stepping out on the sidewalk and turning right. Guizar was the capital and largest city on San Dirago, and it looked modern enough. The biggest obvious difference from New York was that most of the people on the streets were short, stocky, with olive skin and curly black hair. The signs were in Spanish and snatches of unfamiliar Mariachi-sounding music came from cars. She saw Bane straighten up a little and take an interest in his surroundings. He began scanning the streets in his usual way, taking in details with rapid accuracy. Seeing this lifted her heart.
As they walked along in the sullen heat, Bane suddenly seemed to come back to life. "You realize we don't have any luggage, right? Just what we're wearing?"
"Exactly," she said. "You got your Trom armor under your clothes, the silver daggers under your sleeves, the usual hidden gadgets in concealed pockets. I've got our checkbook, our Platinum Visa and American Express cards and two thousand dollars in small bills in my handbag." She paused in front of a store which sold luggage and furniture. "Here. We need a knapsack for you and a little suitcase for me."
She dragged him inside, where they were enthusiastically greeted by the owner in passable English. In a few minutes, they had selected a huge knapsack with a dozen outer pockets for Bane and a small tan leather suitcase for Cindy. The owner happily accepted American dollars. Scanning his surface thoughts as they made the purchase, Cindy decided he was only overcharging them a little and she could accept that. They got out before he could start trying to sell them a dinette set.
Back out on the street, Bane slung the knapsack over one shoulder and allowed the faintest of smiles across his narrow face. For the next hour, they picked up clothing. Socks, underwear, two bras, khaki shorts for both of them and white sneakers. She bought two colorful short-sleeved blouses for herself and three plain T-shirts for Bane in white, red and green. Then a second lightweight dress for her and a white button-front shirt for him. He went along with all this in growing amusement. At a pharmacy, she rounded up toothbrushes, toothpaste, shampoo, bars of soap and mouthwash. most of their purchases went into the knapsack.
"I think we're all set," Cindy announced finally. They had been walking the streets for two hours. "If I remember right, Hidalgo House should be a few streets over. Yep, there it is. That's where my sister and Joe stayed on their honeymoon."
They approached a twenty-story building that looked like a presidential palace. On a canopy extending out into the parking lot was HIDALGO HOUSE in golden script. A doorman in a military-style uniform, complete with white gloves and braided epaulets, watched them approach and opened the glass door for them. Bane was frowning again as they walked across a lobby with marble floors and red velvet wall hangings and a crystal chandelier. "Is this necessary?" he muttered low to her. "All we need is something simple."
"Trust me," she answered. At the desk, she spoke with the clerk and admitted they had no reservations because the trip had been a sudden necessity. Cindy's good looks and relaxed charm almost always worked wonders, and the pudgy clerk grinned ingratiatingly as he decided finding them a decent suite would not be a problem. They got rooms on the ninth floor. Cindy paid him with her American Express card, showed her passport and thanked him profusely. No, she said, they would not need a porter.
Heading up in the elevator that had brass furnishings and polished wood walls, Bane still seemed unhappy. "I don't see why we need all this."
"Jeremy, I don't think it ever sank in with you. You are filthy rich. Kenneth Dred left you an inheritance of just over one hundred million dollars. And you've amassed a war chest from defeated enemies that triples that. Heck, after the Snake War alone, we brought home truckloads of illicit cash." She laughed easily. "I've been living at headquarters and socking away my KDF stipend for the past ten years myself."
The Dire Wolf shrugged. "I never gave it much thought. It was just a way to carry on our work."
"Well, now we deserve to live a little." The door dinged open on the ninth floor and they walked down the hallway until they found their suite on the west corner. It was cool, dry and as elegant as all but the finest hotels in Manhattan could match. The iron balcony looking out over San Dirago Harbor was big enough to serve as a room itself. Cindy inspected the furnishings in the airy sitting-room, with its comfortable armchairs and a broad sofa in maroon covering. There was a sideboard that held glasses and a few assorted whiskey bottles, a walk-in tiled shower in the huge bathroom, the double bed with its silk canopy in the bedroom. She declared herself satisfied. She glanced at a painting on one wall that showed a horse rearing on a hill but had no idea if it was original or not.
Bane lowered his knapsack to the overstuffed easy chair that faced a big screen TV. "I think I know why you're doing this, Cin. Thanks. It's meant well."
"After what happened? When we lost half our team and disbanded the KDF? Yeah, I think we need to come back to life a little, hon. Not to trivialize things but that was a month ago. What have you done since the funerals and paperwork were over?"
He looked out at the ocean, sparkling in the sun almost at their feet. "Not much. I haven't taken any cases. I guess I'm retired."
"You've moped around the headquarters. Not eating much, sleeping in naps whenever you're too tired to stay awake. Ted has kept his clinic going and works two nights a week at Metro General. Gary is staying at Tel Shai to meditate, Sulak and Valera went back to Androval. We need to move on too. Our lives aren't over."
The Dire Wolf exhaled sharply. "What I need most is a hot shower. I'm all sticky, and I guess I haven't shaved for a few days."
Cindy dug through the knapsack for soap and shampoo. "I'll join you. Then we will have some serious loving and a long nap before picking a restaurant for dinner." She grinned impishly up at him. "Ah, I see that smile. Come on, Jeremy, admit I'm always right."
He shrugged off the black sport jacket in relief. "I can't argue with that."
That night, they ate at a decent restaurant overlooking a row of yachts and sailboats tied up to moorings. The Delacruz had a patio with open-work iron tables and a breeze coming in from the ocean made the night air more bearable. Cindy was wearing another light cotton dress of white with yellow flowers, belted at the waist. Bane had the black slacks on again but he wore a dress white shirt without the jacket. They had decided to try whatever jumped out at them from the menu. It turned out to be curry goat and dumplings, fried plantains and rice with kidney beans. The gaunt Bane ate enough for two husky men, his enhanced metabolism meant he was always starving.
They ordered wine but couldn't finish it. This was a side-effect of the Tagra tea regimen they had been on for a decade. At this point, their bodies healed from extensive damage quickly and their aging had slowed, but their systems also rejected poison. Evidently, by now their bodies had adapted to where the wine was difficult to swallow without immediately spitting it back up, so they had to settle for fruit punch and ice water.
Finally done, they sat for a while watching the crescent moon rise overhead. "Feeling better?" she asked.
"Sure, I was starving. That isn't what you meant, though."
"No. Look, Jeremy. You're thirty-three and I'm thirty-two. We're in perfect health, we have no kids and no resonsibiities really, and we're incredibly rich. I hereby declare that we will spend the next month or two enjoying ourselves. Concerts. Museums. Art galleries. Let's see Rome and Paris and Rio! We deserve a long vacation."
For the longest moment, Bane did not reply and she had a twinge of fear that he would reject the idea. But he nodded and said, "We've earned it. What's your plan for right now?"
"Oh, I don't know... a walk around the city tonight, then spend tomorrow swimming and lying in the sun. Maybe rent a boat."
"The Midnight War may find us," Bane said glumly. "It always does."
"Jeremy, no! Absolutely not. No Voodoo cults, no Zombies, no Midnight War at all. Let the world save itself for a while. Listen, have you ever wanted to grow a beard?"
"I...never thought of it," he answered slowly. "Why?"
Before she could answer, a tall black man in a white tropical suit came up to their table, Panama hat in hand. "Pardon me, but surely you are the Dire Wolf?"
II.
With an icy tone, Bane replied, "I don't know you, mister."
"No, we have never met," said the man calmly. He was very dark, with a shaven head and deepset thoughtful eyes. There was a faint accent underlying his speech. "But you ARE Jeremy Bane, and the young lady can only be Cynthia Lee Brunner. Yes, I can feel her mind reaching out now. I won't resist."
Cindy's eyes had narrowed as she stared up at him. "Ah. You're from Danarak. You're... a Bakwanga?"
"I am, my name is Kolkata. Your late associate Kwali was my cousin. We wrote often. May I sit down for a moment?" He placed a hand on the back of a chair in front of him and, as Bane nodded assent, he pulled it out and seated himself.
"I know Kwali is dead," he began quietly. "We have both lost much. To you, he was a teammate, a good friend I am sure, and a valued ally. To me, he was a kinsman. We played together as children. Kwali was the champion of our tribe, the wearer of Wakimbe's Claw."
Bane leaned forward. "I think I see. The Bakwanga want the Cat's-Claw back."
"Of course. One of the most potent talismans in the Midnight War. It has been passed from one champion to the next for millenia and that line must not be broken." Kolkata sounded sorrowful. "It is a great responsibility for my people."
"The Claw has been lost," Bane told him bluntly. "After the Final Halloween, we spent days searching the area where Kwali had fallen in action. Our mystic Nebel could not find a trace of it. I'm sorry, Kolkata, but I have no idea where Cat's-Claw is."
For the first time, the African's composure slipped as his mouth dropped open and he gasped as if he had been struck. "Oh no. I cannot go back to the elders and tell them that."
"Sorry. You can go to Necropolis and search for it yourself if you want, but I have to warn you. Those ruins are absolutely infested with Ghouls and Zombies." Bane tried to soften his voice. "I wish there was some way to help."
Kolkata seemed about to cry. "The Black Lion is our patron spirit, basically our god. 'God has fangs,' as our saying goes, 'to slay the wicked.' With Wakimbe's Claw lost, my people have no mission in life."
Cindy reached out to place a hand on the man's jacket sleeve. "Honestly. I know Kwali would have passed the talisman on to a successor if he had been able to. That was an awful night. We lost half our team before it was over. But you know, I think we could send you and some of your tribe there to search if you really want. It'll be dangerous."
"Thank you, miss. Perhaps the elders will approve such a mission. But I will not be on it. I will be dead by then. Without Cat's-Claw, I cannot hope to survive against the Shark That Walks." Kolkata pushed his chair back, but Bane stopped him with an upraised hand.
"I can see where this is leading," the Dire Wolf snapped. "Okay. Lay it on us, what is this Shark That Walks and why are you going to die?"
The tall black man let out a breath. "Ah. As you know, the bearer of Cat's-Claw has a burden to slay tyrants and bandits, to protect the innocent and slay the wicked. The elders sent Kwali an edict to come here.. to this very island.. and destroy the Shark That Walks as well as its followers. But Kwali perished before he could obey, and now Wakimbe's Claw is lost." Kolkata looked from one of them to the other. "I am not the warrior that Kwali was. I do not have his training or his warrior spirit. Yet it is now up to me. I will purchase a handgun and some protective charms and go into the hills to seek my doom."
Unexpectedly, Bane slammed his open palm down on the table so sharply that everyone jumped. "I knew it! Even when I don't look for trouble, it comes to me. The Midnight War never ends."
Kolkata drew back in resentment and rose to his feet. "I do not seek your help, Mr Bane. This is my responsibility."
"And it's mine as well," the Dire Wolf answered angrily. "I'm still a Tel Shai knight. And I can tackle this Shark That Walks with a chance at success. There's no decision to make, Kolkata, I'm in the game. Tell me everything you know about the threat."
Reluctantly, the African seated himself again. "Well.. not much IS known. There were a series of deaths last year on Dominguez twenty miles from here. The government sent troops to find whatever was mauling lone travelers but nothing came if it. Then three days ago, an old man was found by fishermen on the north shore here. Ripped to bits and, yes, partially eaten. What kind of wild animal eats the liver and nothing else? My people heard of the killing and the elders knew it was Shark That Walks, a Darthan beast long feared but seldom encountered. Few have seen it and lived, but it is said to be a mako with legs and arms like a man. A group of worshippers follows the monster to serve it and hide it."
Bane seemed to be growing less infuriated and more interested. "Hm. So you were sent by yourself to tackle this creature?"
"I volunteered. With Kwali gone, we have no champion. My chances are slim, I know, but we Bakwanga are driven by duty." He caught Bane's eye and said, "When I recognized you, I felt the Black Lion Himself had sent you here. Why else would you be on this island the same day I arrived here?"
"Beats me," Bane snorted. "I seem to be a magnet for trouble. Where can we find this Shark That Walks and his entourage?"
"They will be in the hills, not far from the ocean. Perhaps one will come into town to buy supplies."
"Are they African, like you?"
"Oh, no. The followers of Shark That Walks are from northern Europe. They are mostly blond men, tall and strong, with a few women among them." Kolkata glanced over at Cindy. "Kwali spoke well of you, miss. He said you are a Tel Shai knight yourself."
"You know it," she answered. "I'm not nuts about this. Not even a full day of vacation and we're chasing after something called a Shark That Walks. No rest for the weary. Well, Jeremy, when do you want to start?"
"Tonight," Bane said. "We're more rested than we normally are. I want to go back to the hotel to get my gear. Now I wish I had brought some more weaponry. Do you have a car, Kolkata?"
"I do. I leased a Ford Taurus, it is parked over there on the corner. Shall I drive you to your hotel, then?"
"Sure." Bane stood up and left a tip on the table. He gave a sad glance to Cindy. "When this is wrapped up, we'll try again. Maybe Paris, like you said."
"This is just a speed bump, not a stop sign," she said. The three of them headed to the street, where Kolkata's car waited, then went back to Hidalgo House. There were still four hours until midnight.
III.
Stopping at a pawn shop on a side street, Bane spent a full twenty minutes examining a Glock G22, partially disassembling it to see if it had been cleaned after use, testing its balance and scrutinizing it to the point where the elderly storekeeper was getting nervous. Finally satisfied, the Dire Wolf paid one hundred American dollars for it and also bought two 15-round clips of .40 ammunition after examining it as well. He was completely serious and would not be rushed. There were no suitable holsters, so he stuck it in his belt under his jacket. Looking around the store, he seemed interested in a short sword as well, but it was a replica and the steel was unacceptable. No ID was asked for, just cash for the gun, and the storekeeper seemed relieved when the intense young American with those strange pale eyes left the premises.
Back in Kolkata's car, the Dire Wolf said, "Too bad I couldn't bring my own weapon with me but getting through security is too uncertain. I don't trust automatics. Revolvers don't jam."
The tall African smiled, his perfect teeth flashing. "I am carrying a Colt .45 myself. American cowboy gun!" He pulled out into traffic packed with drivers who seemed to regard signs and right of way as mere suggestions. Kolkata headed north, toward the bay where the killing had taken place, and they discussed Kwali.
"It took a while before he warmed up to us," Cindy said. "Kwali was always so serious. The only time I saw him laughing was when we caught that scrawny old warlock in his underwear getting ready for a ceremony. I was laughing so hard I almost wet myself."
"My cousin was an amazing man. He was a scholar as well as a warrior. In his papers, I found a manuscript of over three hundred pages on the history of both Danarak and our neighbor Veganora. He also loved French poetry and he had read Tolstoy in the original Russian." Kolkata shook his head. "I have enough trouble dealing with English."
"Your English is fine," Bane said offhandedly. "Looks like we're getting close, I can see ocean. What do these followers get from dealing with the Shark Who Walks? What's in it for them?"
"Damned if I know," answered the African. "Maybe they delude themselves that he will reward them somehow. You don't seem skeptical about the existence of such a monster."
From the back seat, Cindy said, "I think we've met creatures like this before. Malakim. Darthan creations with near-Human intelligence. Dangerous certainly, but not a world-class threat."
"I hope you are right." Turning off his headlights, Kolkata pulled over to the side of the rudimentary dirt road which had deep ruts the past few miles. Dense brush and palm trees block what was ahead. "We must walk from here."
As Bane and Cindy got out, Kolkata sniffed the air. The salty tang was unmistakable, but there was no sound of waves or breakers. The three of them started making their way through the vegetation, with Kolkata leading the way. They headed up a steep hill and emerged on a rocky ledge that dropped sixty feet straight down to a jumble of jagged stone. Beyond that was a beach more pebble than sand, glowing white in the moonlight, and dancing on that beach were eight naked people.
It was a strangely disturbing sight, because the cultists moved in a circle in eerie silence, not even breathing hard. Both the men and the two women were big, healthy specimens in good shape. All were blonde, two of them had heavy beards. They spun and leaped and circled to the left. Then at some unheard signal, all formed a line facing the water and dropped to their knees. Every one of them bent forward to press forehead to the ground.
Out in the ocean, a sinister dark form broke the surface.
At first, it seemed to be a nine-foot-long black mako shark, but then it reared up on thick manlike legs and raised short arms with four-fingered taloned hands. The red eyes were set high on the head and moved over the supine worshippers with obvious intelligence. The monster strode slowly from the gentle surf to loom over the kneeling people, keeping its body parallel to the ground and its tail outstretched behind it.
Up on the ledge overlooking the scene, Bane and Cindy gave each other a knowing glance. A malak. These were unnatural hybrids created by the Darthan Kjes with secrets they had learned thousands of years ago. Intended to guard the island of Maroch, the malakim had been too vicious and too stubborn to be trained and the Darthim used them sparingly. How this one had ended up in the real world on its own was a mystery.
Then, from behind the row of worshippers, an older man stepped forward. He was also naked, an unappealing sight with his thin bony legs and round belly, but he held himself with dignity. In one hand was a short rod of copper-colored metal capped with a green gem that shimmered in the moonlight as if lit from within. As he raised this rod, the malak paused and stared sullenly at him.
"A Darthan blasting rod," whispered Cindy, "that's how they control the malak."
"It won't work for long," Bane hissed back. "Those things are untameable. Listen. Kolkata, hide off to one side and keep your gun ready. Cindy, I need you to confuse the malak at the right moment and make him careless. Okay?"
"I think I know what you're planning," she said, "and I don't like it."
"It'll work fine if you step in at the right time," Bane said and with that, he spun and raced back across the ledge to start making his way down through the brush toward the beach. In his all black outfit, he was difficult to spot in the dark and he had years of stealth training. In a few minutes, he was crouched beside a palm tree close enough to overhear what the cult leader was saying.
"Oh Great One, tonight you shall feed. We who love and obey you shall lead you to where fools are camping beneath the skies. Your belly shall be full. And we ask in return, only that you protect us when the Great Old Ones return." With this, the leader raised the Darthan wand and the green jewel flashed brightly. The malak drew back, hissing like a serpent, raising a thick-fingered paw defensively.
Watching from ten feet away, Jeremy Bane decided he had seen enough. Despite what the cult leader was saying, it was clear he was actually controlling the monster with the Darthan wand. Its blasting force could intimidate even a malak at close range. Bane suspected the leader was actually going to shepherd the brute toward the campers he had mentioned, and then the shark-thing's bloodlust would take over. Not tonight, he thought.
The next few seconds were a blur of action that caught all the cultists unprepared and left them confused. A gaunt figure in black rushed from the shadows, yanked the blasting rod away and struck the leader down with a hooking punch that cracked loud as a gunshot in the night. The man reeled wildly and fell on his face. Before the cult members had done more than lift their heads in uncomprehending surprise, the Dire Wolf was racing across the beach back to the tropical forest.
The malak rumbled deep within its cylindrical body, lowering its head to sniff at the dazed leader. The monster's jaws gaped opened, revealing double rows of triangular saw-edged teeth and it seemed about to take a sizeable bite from the helpless man. Then, twenty yards away, green light flared up brilliantly and a man's voice yelled, "Hey, stupid! Over here. This is what you want." Bane spun and hurried up toward the brush as the malak thundered forward on its short powerful legs. One cultist was still kneeling in the way and the beast stepped squarely on his back with its full thousand pounds, leaving a corpse underfoot.
Holding back his speed despite an understandable urge to go as fast as possible, Bane reached the rocky ledge and climbed up onto it. Both Kolkata and Cindy had concealed themselves. The Dire Wolf turned to face where the ledge projected out over the steep drop and managed to wait until the malak loomed up behind him. The giant brute lumbered forward and Bane ran toward toward the front of the ledge, waving the Darthan wand. As the green gem flashed, the Dire Wolf shouted, "Go and get it!" and flung the rod far out over the beach. Instantly he dropped and rolled to one side, missing being trampled by less than an inch as the malak stormed past him after the mystic artifact. Moving at full speed, the beast ran right off the ledge and spun once as it plummeted straight down to crash onto the jagged rocks sixty feet below.
Bane hopped up again to see Cindy and Kolkata emerging from the undergrowth. He climbed down the side of the ledge as quickly as he could, letting go to drop the final ten feet onto a flat patch. The hulk of the malak was twitching feebly, its tail lashing from side to side, but it could not rise. The red eyes glared at him with total hatred, and he could not blame it. Stepping closer but still staying out of reach, the Dire Wolf decided that the beast had a broken back and would never walk again. He drew the Glock from the small of his back and came around behind the malak. This would actually be an act of mercy. Just as Cindy and Kolkata reached him, Bane held the muzzle at point-blank range and emptied all fifteen bullets into the hideous head. Not much remained recognizable. He ejected the clip and inserted the fresh one, and let out a deep shuddering breath of released tension.
"Nice timing," Cindy said. "I didn't even get a chance to latch onto his mind before he was doing a swan dive."
"Here come his followers," warned Kolkata, pointing at the eight naked people cautiously approaching them. The African had drawn his own gun, and sight of it brought the cultists to a sudden halt.
Bane shouted, "Get lost, you fools! Get your clothes on and go home." When they didn't respond, he fired twice at their feet, pitching up spouts of dirt, and all the cultists ran away faster than they had ever moved in their lives. The Dire Wolf made a short scoffing noise. "Not as tough as Those Who Remember, I must say."
Walking over to where the Darthan wand had landed, Cindy Brunner picked it between thumb and forefinger as if it were dirty. "These things are always trouble, Jeremy. I vote we take it apart and smash the gem and scatter the metal over a large area."
"You're right. As usual. Darthan talismans can't be used safely for long. I felt dizzy just wielding it those few minutes." He turned toward Kolkata. "Okay, buddy. The Shark That Walks is taken care of. Can you go back to your elders and report?"
"Yes. And I must thank you. You risked your lives when you did not have to, both of you. The Bakwanga are grateful."
"It's what we are, we can't change." Bane prodded the lifeless bloody hulk of the malak with his boot. "I don't know what to suggest to do with this thing. Maybe cover it up with loose rocks. By the time anyone discovers the carcass, Cindy and I will be staring at the Eiffel Tower like any other disappointed tourists in Paris and this will be just another unsolved mystery."
11/21/2014
