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"Dancing On Quicksand"
May. 27th, 2022 09:03 pm"Dancing On Quicksand"
(1988)
4/20-4/23/1988
I.
Deep in the hills of Virginia was a complex of modern office buildings forty miles from the nearest town. The security was intense but not obvious. The observation cameras and armed sentries watched from behind one-way glass panels, and an untrained eye could not have detected the microphones, pressure-sensitive road plates, proximity alarms and heat-detecting sensors built in the grounds. Cheval saw all of them. She turned up the corners of her mouth in a tiny smile, and her huge dark eyes reflected her amusement. Gadgets. But, to be fair, she admitted to herself that it was only her inborn gralic power which put her in a position to scorn gadgets. These people were only Humans trying to win against long odds.
The black limousine DRAGONWING rolled silently onto the mile-long driveway. Behind the wheel was Cheng Wong-Lai. He wore his traditional chaffeur uniform, complete with flap-front coat, gloves and billet cap. The young Chinese warrior glanced at the complex instruments on the dashboard and said, "We are being probed, captain. Electronic sensors at state of art level." A lifetime of travelhad left him with no accent.
Cheval, on the other hand, still deliberately retained a faint hint in her vioice of her French-Canadian origins because many men found it appealing. "Can they penetrate, Chen?"
"No. Not this car, with our Trom shielding."
Cheval leaned back against against the deep leather of the rear seat. She wore a simple blouse, skirt and blazer of dark blue that flattered her petite figure withot being obvious. "So far, Trom have kept ahead of Human advances," she said.
Next to Chen in the front was Kwali, a big athletic black African. He wore a well-tailored European-style suit with crisp white shirt and solid maroon tie. His hair was cropped close to the skull, emphasizing the strength in his somber, unsmiling face. The Danarakan watched a sign on a post go past. ADVANCED SECURITY RESEARCH -NO ACCESS BEYOND THiS POINT and his bright green eyes narrowed.
"Cheval," he rumbled in his deep, sullen voice. "I have never been able to make distinctions between the American intelligence services. CIA, NSA, ASR, NERA, they all seem to be just arms of the same beast."
"Perhaps they are just that," she answered. "Many masks over the one face. We are facing masters of deceit and deception, my friend."
The driveway ended at a long one-story building, with other smaller structures arrayed behind it. Chen slowed as he passed between two head-high stone pillars and came to a stop in the center of an open concrete circle, brilliantly lit even in the dead of night. Spaced along the outer walls of the building were enclosed observation stations and each of the three KDF members sensed weapons trained on them as they got out of the car.
From mounted speakers came a pleasant, mellow male voice, "Welcome to Advanced Security Research. Please step away from your vehicle and identify yourself."
"Let's play their little game," muttered Cheval. Kwali towered over both his teammates, but he and Chen flanked their captain immediately. "Three members of the Kenneth Dred Foundation," she announced at normal conversational level. Cheval. Chen Wong-Lai. Bakwanga Kwali. We are here as requested."
"IDs confirmed," said the voice. "Please proceed through the gate to your left. Your vehicle may remain where it is. Thank you and have a nice day."
"Nice day!" grumbled Chen. "Four-thirty AM is hardly the usual time for briefings. Sunday morning, at that."
"Steady, little dragon," Cheval said, touching his arm lightly.
"Very well," the Chinese fighter complied. Removing his cap and tucking it under one arm, he thumbed a control patch of the door handle of the DRAGONWING and the car sealed itself. Let them try to get into my baby, he thought with satisfaction. They'd need cutting torches.
The three KDF members walked to a doorway which unlocked with a series of clicks and hissed open on its own. A man stood with folded arms in the antechamber. He was tall, sleek, with jet black hair and dark, watchful eyes. Even Cheval could not spot the gun which she knew must be concealed somewhere under that neat tan suit. The man did not offer to shake hands but his voice was polite. "Good of you to come. My name is Dennis Ortiz, First Assistant in Operations. Please come with me." He led them to a pair of doors, one of which opened as he slid a plastic card into a slot. It was an elevator, unexpected enough in a one-story building. As the door hissed shut, he tapped on the control panel and the cage descended. After a full minute of going down in the earth, they emerged into a white tile lobby, cool and dry and antiseptic. Everything in the ASR seemed to be too brightly lit.
Behind a reception counter sat a middle-aged woman with auburn hair and thick glasses, typing away on a keyboard. She gave them each a triangular ID badge, which they clipped on their clothing and Ortiz led the way through sliding door and down a corridor. finally taking them through yet another sliding door without markings into a large private office. White-walled and beige-carpeted, the office had slightly more subdued lighting than the usual ASR glare. The furnishings were ordinary, even bland. From behind a steel desk topped with computer monitor and bank of phones, a thin man rose and came around to meet them.
"Hello, Corrine," he began but she cut him off.
"Cheval, my dear, always Cheval."
"How are you this morning?" he continued as if she had not spoken. "It must be three years, far too long be inactive from the field."
She gave him her sweetest smile. "I've been employed in related work. Howard, I am certain you know all about my two partners, Kwali and Chen. This is Howard Lamb, Special Projects Director for the ASR."
Everyone shooks hands and mumbled the proper greetings. Kwali towered over everyone. He was four inches taller than the six-foot Ortiz and the others were shorter yet. Cheval was not much over five feet high. Lamb motioned his visitors to seat theselves in three plastic chairs which were arranged before a projection screen built into a wall. "Let me be honest with you from the start. Advanced Security Research is an agency of the federal government. That government and the nation which it serves are our concern."
Lamb came around to stand in front of them, hands behind his back. He was of medium height and build, perhaps a bit too thin to be healthy, in his late forties. Two things kept him from being handsome. His nose and long and pointed enough to be distracting and he spoke from the corner of one mouth as thought his face had been hurt at some point. "Cheval, I have to admit that we were told not to call the KDF in on this. Higher-ups in this agency warned that your group is a loose cannon on the deck. A wild card in the deck. But what I know of you convinced me that you and your team were the best possible choice to bring in as consultants."
He continued, "I will say that the various agencies do not have much information on the Kenneth Dred Foundation. We know who Kenneth Dred himself was, of course. A well-known author on the occult who wrote more than forty books in his lifetime and who did work for the OSS during the war. We know his protege, a man who calls himself Jeremy Bane, inherited Dred's fortune of two hundred million dollars and established the KDF in September 1979. Now, on the surface, the KDF is non-profitmaking research organization investigating the paranormal. Strange sightings, wild talents, that sort of thing. But it has always been more than that. All along, the KDf has been asked to help apprehend dangerous criminals. Bane personally has apprehended serial killers like Samhain and Seneca. Andrew Steel and the late Michael Hawk vouched for the KDF and their considerable clout helped give the group great independence to operate freely." He paused.
Cheval said nothing, listening politely. She did not intend to correct his misconception, but Cheval was neither an official KDF member or a knight of Tel Shai. She had met and worked with Jeremy Bane, who respected her enough to hire her to train new KDF members. When they were ready, she went back to her own affairs. Dennis Ortiz had come to stand where they could see him.
Beginning to pace slowly, Lamb continued, still speaking from the left corner of his mouth. "What concerns intelligence agencies is all the mystery surrounding the KDf. Bodies turn up wherever your group is active. There are many reports of unexplained phenomena wherever your group appears, too bizarre to believe but too documented to just be discounted. The real purpose of the KDF remains a tantalizing mystery." He took a deep breath. "As a colleague and friend, Cheval, allow me to give a word of advice. Get clearance for your group. Have your Director, Jeremy Bane, establish a working relationship with the proper authorities before there is trouble. We know that you have tangled with Intercrime, with the empires of Wu Lung and Arem Kamende. I fear the KGB or other foreign services will step in, too."
She gave one of her rare laughs, a low pleasant chuckle. With her gamin haircut and large eyes, Cheval often seemed like a teenager although she was in her thirties, "I will discuss it with my captain, Howard. But now you must get to why you have asked my team of drive out here before dawn on,lj-cut a Sunday morning."
( Read more... )
(1988)
4/20-4/23/1988
I.
Deep in the hills of Virginia was a complex of modern office buildings forty miles from the nearest town. The security was intense but not obvious. The observation cameras and armed sentries watched from behind one-way glass panels, and an untrained eye could not have detected the microphones, pressure-sensitive road plates, proximity alarms and heat-detecting sensors built in the grounds. Cheval saw all of them. She turned up the corners of her mouth in a tiny smile, and her huge dark eyes reflected her amusement. Gadgets. But, to be fair, she admitted to herself that it was only her inborn gralic power which put her in a position to scorn gadgets. These people were only Humans trying to win against long odds.
The black limousine DRAGONWING rolled silently onto the mile-long driveway. Behind the wheel was Cheng Wong-Lai. He wore his traditional chaffeur uniform, complete with flap-front coat, gloves and billet cap. The young Chinese warrior glanced at the complex instruments on the dashboard and said, "We are being probed, captain. Electronic sensors at state of art level." A lifetime of travelhad left him with no accent.
Cheval, on the other hand, still deliberately retained a faint hint in her vioice of her French-Canadian origins because many men found it appealing. "Can they penetrate, Chen?"
"No. Not this car, with our Trom shielding."
Cheval leaned back against against the deep leather of the rear seat. She wore a simple blouse, skirt and blazer of dark blue that flattered her petite figure withot being obvious. "So far, Trom have kept ahead of Human advances," she said.
Next to Chen in the front was Kwali, a big athletic black African. He wore a well-tailored European-style suit with crisp white shirt and solid maroon tie. His hair was cropped close to the skull, emphasizing the strength in his somber, unsmiling face. The Danarakan watched a sign on a post go past. ADVANCED SECURITY RESEARCH -NO ACCESS BEYOND THiS POINT and his bright green eyes narrowed.
"Cheval," he rumbled in his deep, sullen voice. "I have never been able to make distinctions between the American intelligence services. CIA, NSA, ASR, NERA, they all seem to be just arms of the same beast."
"Perhaps they are just that," she answered. "Many masks over the one face. We are facing masters of deceit and deception, my friend."
The driveway ended at a long one-story building, with other smaller structures arrayed behind it. Chen slowed as he passed between two head-high stone pillars and came to a stop in the center of an open concrete circle, brilliantly lit even in the dead of night. Spaced along the outer walls of the building were enclosed observation stations and each of the three KDF members sensed weapons trained on them as they got out of the car.
From mounted speakers came a pleasant, mellow male voice, "Welcome to Advanced Security Research. Please step away from your vehicle and identify yourself."
"Let's play their little game," muttered Cheval. Kwali towered over both his teammates, but he and Chen flanked their captain immediately. "Three members of the Kenneth Dred Foundation," she announced at normal conversational level. Cheval. Chen Wong-Lai. Bakwanga Kwali. We are here as requested."
"IDs confirmed," said the voice. "Please proceed through the gate to your left. Your vehicle may remain where it is. Thank you and have a nice day."
"Nice day!" grumbled Chen. "Four-thirty AM is hardly the usual time for briefings. Sunday morning, at that."
"Steady, little dragon," Cheval said, touching his arm lightly.
"Very well," the Chinese fighter complied. Removing his cap and tucking it under one arm, he thumbed a control patch of the door handle of the DRAGONWING and the car sealed itself. Let them try to get into my baby, he thought with satisfaction. They'd need cutting torches.
The three KDF members walked to a doorway which unlocked with a series of clicks and hissed open on its own. A man stood with folded arms in the antechamber. He was tall, sleek, with jet black hair and dark, watchful eyes. Even Cheval could not spot the gun which she knew must be concealed somewhere under that neat tan suit. The man did not offer to shake hands but his voice was polite. "Good of you to come. My name is Dennis Ortiz, First Assistant in Operations. Please come with me." He led them to a pair of doors, one of which opened as he slid a plastic card into a slot. It was an elevator, unexpected enough in a one-story building. As the door hissed shut, he tapped on the control panel and the cage descended. After a full minute of going down in the earth, they emerged into a white tile lobby, cool and dry and antiseptic. Everything in the ASR seemed to be too brightly lit.
Behind a reception counter sat a middle-aged woman with auburn hair and thick glasses, typing away on a keyboard. She gave them each a triangular ID badge, which they clipped on their clothing and Ortiz led the way through sliding door and down a corridor. finally taking them through yet another sliding door without markings into a large private office. White-walled and beige-carpeted, the office had slightly more subdued lighting than the usual ASR glare. The furnishings were ordinary, even bland. From behind a steel desk topped with computer monitor and bank of phones, a thin man rose and came around to meet them.
"Hello, Corrine," he began but she cut him off.
"Cheval, my dear, always Cheval."
"How are you this morning?" he continued as if she had not spoken. "It must be three years, far too long be inactive from the field."
She gave him her sweetest smile. "I've been employed in related work. Howard, I am certain you know all about my two partners, Kwali and Chen. This is Howard Lamb, Special Projects Director for the ASR."
Everyone shooks hands and mumbled the proper greetings. Kwali towered over everyone. He was four inches taller than the six-foot Ortiz and the others were shorter yet. Cheval was not much over five feet high. Lamb motioned his visitors to seat theselves in three plastic chairs which were arranged before a projection screen built into a wall. "Let me be honest with you from the start. Advanced Security Research is an agency of the federal government. That government and the nation which it serves are our concern."
Lamb came around to stand in front of them, hands behind his back. He was of medium height and build, perhaps a bit too thin to be healthy, in his late forties. Two things kept him from being handsome. His nose and long and pointed enough to be distracting and he spoke from the corner of one mouth as thought his face had been hurt at some point. "Cheval, I have to admit that we were told not to call the KDF in on this. Higher-ups in this agency warned that your group is a loose cannon on the deck. A wild card in the deck. But what I know of you convinced me that you and your team were the best possible choice to bring in as consultants."
He continued, "I will say that the various agencies do not have much information on the Kenneth Dred Foundation. We know who Kenneth Dred himself was, of course. A well-known author on the occult who wrote more than forty books in his lifetime and who did work for the OSS during the war. We know his protege, a man who calls himself Jeremy Bane, inherited Dred's fortune of two hundred million dollars and established the KDF in September 1979. Now, on the surface, the KDF is non-profitmaking research organization investigating the paranormal. Strange sightings, wild talents, that sort of thing. But it has always been more than that. All along, the KDf has been asked to help apprehend dangerous criminals. Bane personally has apprehended serial killers like Samhain and Seneca. Andrew Steel and the late Michael Hawk vouched for the KDF and their considerable clout helped give the group great independence to operate freely." He paused.
Cheval said nothing, listening politely. She did not intend to correct his misconception, but Cheval was neither an official KDF member or a knight of Tel Shai. She had met and worked with Jeremy Bane, who respected her enough to hire her to train new KDF members. When they were ready, she went back to her own affairs. Dennis Ortiz had come to stand where they could see him.
Beginning to pace slowly, Lamb continued, still speaking from the left corner of his mouth. "What concerns intelligence agencies is all the mystery surrounding the KDf. Bodies turn up wherever your group is active. There are many reports of unexplained phenomena wherever your group appears, too bizarre to believe but too documented to just be discounted. The real purpose of the KDF remains a tantalizing mystery." He took a deep breath. "As a colleague and friend, Cheval, allow me to give a word of advice. Get clearance for your group. Have your Director, Jeremy Bane, establish a working relationship with the proper authorities before there is trouble. We know that you have tangled with Intercrime, with the empires of Wu Lung and Arem Kamende. I fear the KGB or other foreign services will step in, too."
She gave one of her rare laughs, a low pleasant chuckle. With her gamin haircut and large eyes, Cheval often seemed like a teenager although she was in her thirties, "I will discuss it with my captain, Howard. But now you must get to why you have asked my team of drive out here before dawn on,lj-cut a Sunday morning."
( Read more... )
