Cracks in Reality (Seams in Reality Book 2) (3 page)

Andrew and Charley didn't have far to go. One of the storage rooms in the basement had been converted to a martial arts studio just for them.

They walked in and found two men wearing white karate uniforms and black belts. One man was Agent Dan Easton of the Federal Bureau of Physical Investigation. His light brown hair was short and even. Stubble covered his chin as usual, but the stubble wasn't long enough to qualify as a beard. He had a handsome face and a slim, muscular body. His sculpted good looks always made Andrew want to stand between Dan and Charley to keep them apart, although she had never expressed interest in him.

Agent Dan was the official liaison for Andrew and Charley. Dan's job was to keep them safe and make sure their important needs were met. Sometimes he acted like a fussy parent, and other times, he was more like a parole officer. The apprentices needed his permission to go anywhere.

The other man in the room had four stripes on his black belt. Andrew didn't know his real name, but everybody called him "Tungsten." He was over six feet tall and solid muscle from his bulging neck down to thighs like tree trunks. His skin was the color of coffee with plenty of milk. His head was shaved bald except for a short Mohawk down the middle. A scar ran from the corner of his nose out to his ear. His lips were curled in a slight snarl revealing two gold teeth in front.

"You're late," Tungsten said.

"The session with Tonya ran long," Andrew said. "It was rough."

"You don't look hurt."

"The damage is between the ears."

Tungsten frowned. "Well, I'm not going to take it easy on you."

Andrew wanted to come back with a snappy reply, but he thought better of it. Tungsten had absolutely no sense of humor and just two moods: grim and grimmer. The BPI had picked him for his combat skills, not his interpersonal skills. He was an ex-soldier with a drawer full of shiny medals. He knew everything there was to know about killing and had probably invented a few new ways.

The martial arts room had blank, white walls. Blue padded mats covered half the floor, and the other half was bare. A heavy bag hung in the corner alongside a man-shaped punching dummy. A wooden shelf held accessories such as jump ropes, boxing gloves, pads, a rubber knife, a wooden sword, and so on.

A cloth partition in the corner created enough privacy for a dressing area. Andrew went behind the partition, grabbed a karate uniform from a shelf, and changed his clothes. He still had a white belt, but he felt he deserved a colored one. After weeks of intense, daily training, he didn't consider himself a beginner anymore.

Charley took her turn behind the partition. While she was changing, Andrew began his routine of stretching and calisthenics. He had learned the value of warming up properly. The training was hard enough without fighting a pulled muscle.

Dan and Tungsten already had a little sweat on their brows. They did some light sparring while the apprentices got ready. Dan was a pretty good fighter, but Tungsten was vastly superior. Even when they were just messing around, the big man made Dan look inept by comparison. Tungsten had amazing flexibility for a muscle-bound behemoth.

After fifteen minutes, the apprentices were finally ready to begin the class in earnest. Andrew still felt a little disoriented from Tonya's training, but the exercise was helping to ground him. Vigorous physical activity was a great antidote to the side-effects of sorcery.

"Get into a stance!" Tungsten ordered.

The apprentices settled into basic defensive stances. They raised their fists protectively.

"Stronger," Tungsten said. "Root yourself into the ground like a tree."

Andrew settled a little deeper into his stance. Growing roots from his feet was out of the question, but he tried to have root-like thoughts.

Tungsten walked over to Charley and pushed her shoulder, knocking her off balance. Andrew didn't like it when Tungsten put his hands on her, but Andrew kept his mouth shut.

"Always stay on your feet," Tungsten said. "You can't win a fight if you're falling over. Come at me, both of you. Try to move me."

Andrew reluctantly walked over and grabbed Tungsten's muscular arm. If was like holding onto a statue. Charley grabbed the other arm, and the two of them pulled with all their strength. Tungsten didn't move an inch.

"You see?" he said. "Balance is key. It's much more important than being big."

But being big certainly helps,
Andrew thought.

The lesson continued with basic punches and kicks followed by advanced combinations. Sweat was soon dripping down their skin. Everybody, including Dan, took turns sparring with each other. Andrew didn't like sparring with Charley because he didn't want to hit her, while fighting Dan or Tungsten was frustrating. They were so much better than Andrew. He always felt like a clumsy fool when he faced them.

He was learning though. He and Charley weren't athletically gifted, and neither of them enjoyed physical exertion, but Tungsten was molding them into martial artists regardless. The BPI had chosen a good instructor.

The last part of the class was practicing with weapons. Tungsten grabbed a rubber knife and walked over.

"Let's work on disarming techniques," he said. "Andrew, you first."

Tungsten stepped into an aggressive attack stance and put on a fierce expression. It wasn't hard to imagine him wielding a real knife the same way.

Andrew had learned a few ways to disarm a man. He approached Tungsten warily. Without any warning, Andrew slapped the back of the hand holding the knife while simultaneously striking Tungsten's wrist on the other side. The wrist bent, but the knife didn't come loose.

"Harder," Tungsten said. "Don't worry about hurting me."

I wasn't,
Andrew thought.

He repeated the technique using all his strength, and the knife flew out of Tungsten's hand. Andrew grinned with satisfaction.

"Good." Tungsten walked across the room and picked up the knife. "Charley, do the same thing."

He approached Charley with the knife held in a menacing manner. He probably weighed twice as much as her. Even though the knife was rubber, she shrank back instinctively.

"Come on," he said in an aggressive tone. "Pretend I'm Blake, and I'm about to kill you. Protect yourself."

She flinched. "I don't think he would use a knife. If he picked up a weapon at all, it would be a gun."

"That's an assumption, and assumptions get people killed. Disarm me!"

Charley made a game effort, but she couldn't knock the knife out of Tungsten's hand. His grip was too strong. Her thin arms couldn't generate enough force.

"That's not working," he said, "but giving up is never an option. Try something else."

Come on Charley,
Andrew thought.
Think of something.

She abruptly tried to kick Tungsten in the groin. Demonstrating remarkable reflexes, he turned his hips and deflected the attack, but it distracted him for an instant. She grabbed his wrist with both her hands and threw her entire body forward. The knife was forced backwards until the rubber tip hit him in the chest.

He stepped back and smiled. "Nice! Very creative."

"But she tried to kick you in the nuts," Andrew said.

"In a real fight," Tungsten said, "there are no rules. We started late, and I think we're out of time. We'll meet at the gun range at 6 PM. Tonight we'll play with shotguns. Bye."

The apprentices took turns changing back into their street clothes. Dan changed next, and Andrew and Charley waited impatiently for him. The apprentices never went anywhere without a BPI agent in the vicinity. With Blake on the loose, their personal safety was a constant concern.

Andrew and Charley also protected each other with sorcery. They were always within earshot. They attended the same classes, shared all their meals, and slept across the hall from each other. When one went to the bathroom, the other waited outside the door.

They grabbed their backpacks and winter coats from a coat tree in the tiled hallway. Dan had his own backpack and looked more or less like an older college student. Everybody proceeded up a narrow staircase.

The hallways were wider on the main floor of the Fine Arts Building. The apprentices had come up behind a stage in the area where theatrical props were stored.
Pirates of Penzance
was being performed in the evenings in the main auditorium. Andrew saw black flags, a treasure chest, ropes, sails, fake swords, and other pirate gear. The show looked like fun, but he would be lucky if he could find the time to see a performance.

Andrew and Charley went outside through a back door and entered a world covered in snow. The white stuff was everywhere, and after sitting on the ground for weeks, it was hard, crusty, and dirty from pollution. Biting cold made Andrew grimace and pull his wool ski cap down as far as it would go. Lingering sweat on his face instantly cooled to near freezing. He took mittens out of his pockets and hurriedly put them on.

Andrew's stomach grumbled. By this time of day, he was always starving. Eating before a training session was a bad idea so he always skipped breakfast. Sorcery was best performed on an empty stomach.

He checked his watch. "It's 10:30. We have time for brunch before class if we hurry."

He looked at Charley. She was wearing a puffy pink parka, wool mittens, and a fur-lined cap with big ear flaps. The coat almost went down to her knees. Brown leather boots went nearly as high so only a narrow band of her blue jeans was exposed. The cold had brought color to her cheeks.

"Be careful on the ice," she said. "It's slippery out here."

Andrew took her hand, and they walked off together.

Dan followed at a discreet distance. It was no secret that the apprentices didn't like him hovering too closely. Andrew kept his eyes pointed forward and tried to ignore the agent. Other students in the area hardly glanced at him.

Theosophical University was located in a suburb west of Chicago. The stone buildings employed a Gothic architecture which made them look almost like cathedrals. The doorways were arched, and the windows were very tall and narrow. Sheets of copper covered the steeply sloped roofs, and the metal had a green-blue patina.

Andrew and Charley went straight to the school cafeteria, and as they entered, warm air came as a relief. The dining room had brown tile on the floors and red tile on the walls. The cuisine was supposed to be international, but it all came from one kitchen and pretty much tasted the same. Andrew could choose from American, Mexican, Chinese, Italian, and Russian serving stations. Students wearing white aprons stood behind the stations with bored expressions on their faces. It was still early, so there were plenty of free seats.

Andrew went for Chinese today. The server gave him a plate of "orange chicken" which was the color of a pumpkin. Mushy broccoli on the side made the dish even less appetizing.

Andrew met Charley at one of the many tables. She was eating spaghetti and meatballs, and he decided she had made a better choice.

Dan sat by himself, but he was still close enough to be an effective bodyguard. His back was against a wall, and his eyes never stopped moving.

Andrew took a bite of chicken. The meat had been cooked until it was dry and stringy.

"I need a break from all this training," he said. "It's too intense. Do you think Tonya might give us a couple of days off?"

Charley shook her head. "I doubt it. Every extra day gives Blake more time to cause trouble. Are you really that tired? You seem to be holding up better than me. I was ready to bail out this morning."

"I don't blame you. Tonya played rough today. She's not holding back."

"Maybe that's a good sign. We could be close to done."

"We're not that close," Andrew said. "I certainly don't feel ready to fight an evil master sorcerer."

Charley sighed sadly and stuffed a meatball in her mouth.

"But we'll get there." He gave her an encouraging smile. "We have what it takes."

"I know." She smiled back at him. "We just have to keep each other motivated to the end. We can't quit."

He squeezed her hand.

Chapter Two

Blake looked down the famous strip in Las Vegas. The Mandalay Bay Resort was closest on the left. Golden windows went up to a height of forty-three stories. The Luxor was next down the strip, and the giant black pyramid was just as recognizable as its neighbor. A full-scale reproduction of the Great Sphinx of Giza stood out front along with an impressively tall obelisk.

Blake knew the town very well. He had performed in several of the casinos during his long career as a stage magician. All told, he had probably spent a year of his life in Las Vegas. That fact was ironic because he hated gambling. He didn't understand how losing money for hours on end could be any kind of entertainment. He only played games he knew he could win and for stakes that really mattered.

Blake wasn't planning to enter any of the big casinos today. All of them had sophisticated surveillance systems, and he was very much a wanted man. He expected the United States government was going to extreme efforts to find him. He had a good disguise, but he wasn't going to take any unnecessary chances.

He went to his right instead. He walked towards a two-story office building covered in brown stucco. Heavily tinted windows prevented him from seeing the interior. Mature willow trees were a decadent luxury in a land where every drop of water was precious. He saw cars in the parking lot made by Porsche, Mercedes, Bugatti, and Lamborghini.

The security was just as impressive. Men wearing black suits and sunglasses guarded every door, and more men patrolled the parking lot. Blake expected plenty of surveillance cameras, but he saw only a few tucked away in the shadows. The rest were probably better hidden.

A small sign above the front door read, "Panetta & Associates." The public knew the office as a law firm specializing in criminal defense. In fact, Mr. Panetta and his team had defended many dangerous crooks successfully, but that was just part of the story. The truth was Panetta ruled the shady underworld of Las Vegas with absolute authority. No dirty deal could happen until he got paid his cut. A healthy chunk of the police force was on his payroll.