Cracks in Reality (Seams in Reality Book 2) (35 page)

A guard came forward, and the driver showed him some paperwork. The papers were forged, of course. The guard just glanced at them and then waved the Humvee through. He was more interested in the protestors.

Blake kept his eyes forward and showed no emotion on his face.

Mumford Army Base covered an enormous amount of land, but most of it was uninhabited. Clusters of buildings formed outposts in the vast wasteland. One such cluster was near the gate, and looking at it made Blake glad he didn't live there. The structures lacked even the slightest architectural flair. They were just green boxes made of sheet metal or adobe. Narrow streets formed an obsessively regular grid. Stretches of sterile sand covered the unused spaces, and Blake didn't see a single plant.

Blake wondered what Phillip was doing. He couldn't bring the boy along without arousing suspicion, so Phillip had stayed in the hotel. Blake actually missed him, and that was a strange feeling.

The driver navigated the Humvee to a housing section. Rows of identical, tiny homes had mere slivers of space in between. They were meant for junior officers without families. Blake guessed each house had just one bedroom.

"I can handle this alone," Blake said.

He got out of the car, and the air was warm, dry, and pleasant. His nose itched from inhaling dust.

He hurried over to the house and knocked. According to his intelligence, Lieutenant Doken had just come off duty and should be home. Blake knocked again impatiently.

A woman in a yellow-green uniform answered the door. Her pudgy face and generous rump weren't suitable for a soldier, but she was a technical specialist, not a fighter.

"Captain?" Her eyes widened in surprise. "What can I do for you?"

"Before I tell you, I need to confirm something," Blake said. "You're Lieutenant Henrietta Doken, and you're in charge of the Radio Spectrum Branch, right?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good." Blake smiled. "And you never visit the Physical Containment Facility?"

"No, sir. It's completely off-limits."

"As it should be. I have a special assignment for you. Mind if I come in?"

"Be my guest, sir." Doken stepped aside.

He walked in and looked around the cramped front room. There was a couch, a chair, and a television, all cheaply made.

The Russian Eye was in a pouch around Blake's neck. He tapped into the power of the seam and said, "In a day or two, you're going to transmit a special message. The tricky part will be making it seem authentic, but I'm sure a woman of your skill will manage. The message must use all the right secret codes. If you need help from anybody else, just let me know. Here is what I want the message to say...."

* * *

Andrew walked out of the Las Vegas Airport and blinked in bright morning sunlight. He had taken the first flight out of Washington, DC after not getting nearly enough sleep. His brain wasn't hitting on all cylinders.

He, Charley, and Tungsten were dragging their suitcases. Charley was shuffling her feet like a zombie, but Tungsten had a light, quick step and an alert expression. Andrew wondered if the soldier had received special training in functioning with little sleep.

The warm, dry air was a pleasant change from the cold damp of Washington. A pale blue sky didn't have a single cloud. It seemed the middle of winter was a perfect time to visit Las Vegas.

A car horn got Andrew's attention.

"Need a ride?" a woman called.

He looked over at Tonya. Even though she had also rushed to Las Vegas on short notice, she looked good. Her blonde hair was brushed and trimmed. Blue eyes gleamed mischievously. She was wearing a black shirt and checkerboard pants which fit her body snugly.

Andrew, Charley, and Tungsten walked over to the car, a sporty red sedan with a retractable roof. Tungsten took over as driver, and Tonya rode shotgun. The apprentices sat in back and held hands.

As Tungsten drove away, he said, "Where are we going?"

"I don't know," Tonya said. "My instructions ended at picking you up at the airport. Nobody even told me why I had to meet you here."

"Then we're going to breakfast. I'm starving, and I need a huge cup of coffee."

Tonya used a navigation system in the car to find the nearest restaurant.

"So," she said, "is somebody going to tell me what's going on?"

"Did you see the news reports about
Montaña de la Serpiente
?" Charley said.

"Of course. Biological weapons, aliens, or a time travel machine. Take your pick."

"It's actually the Vault. Blake is spreading the rumors."

Tonya frowned. "That unfortunately makes sense. The publicity will compromise the security and force the BPI to do something rash."

"They're going to move the Vault within a few days."

"And Blake will attack at a moment of maximum vulnerability."

"You got it," Charley said.

Tonya rubbed her temples. "How did he find the location to begin with?"

"The armored truck which came to the compound where we found Phillip."

She closed her eyes. The muscles in her jaw twitched.

"He fooled everybody," Charley said timidly.

"I'm supposed to be smarter than that," Tonya replied in a low voice. "I'm a high and mighty member of the Tribunal. I sit in judgment over my peers. This was his plan from the beginning, and I played along like a perfect fool. I was absolutely convinced revenge was his only motive. I didn't give the master magician nearly enough credit. Now it's almost too late to stop him. If he gets his hands on the contents of the Vault, the world will be in deep trouble."

"It's not hopeless," Andrew said. "We followed the rumor trail to here. If we keep going, it might lead us to Blake. To make the job easier, Webster agreed to let us use a seam."

"What?" She twisted her head around to stare at him. "Are you joking?"

"No. He's desperate."

"He must be." Tonya exhaled. "That would certainly explain why I'm here. I wouldn't trust you with a portable seam either."

"I can handle it," he declared.

"No matter how skilled you are, you're still a teenager. A portable seam is a very powerful, dangerous tool. It takes a lot of maturity to use one responsibly."

Andrew decided to close his mouth and not argue.

The car arrived at a restaurant called the Grizzly Bear Diner. It was a green stucco building with Spanish tile trim in a shopping center. Andrew's stomach growled in anticipation of a late and much needed breakfast.

Everybody got out of the car and went into the restaurant. The place was ordinary enough except for murals on the walls. Giant paintings portrayed bears in natural environments such as streams, hills, and mountains.

The group sat at a table. A waitress came by, handed out menus, and left.

"How did you decide to come to Las Vegas?" Tonya said.

Charley quickly summarized the state of the investigation. Andrew produced the sheet of credit card charges and gave it to Tonya.

She studied the list. "We have a lot of places to visit. It could be a long day."

The waitress returned, and they ordered their food. Andrew asked for a "Grizzly Bear Combo" which included three eggs, a chicken fried steak, hash browns, and a side of fruit salad. He tacked on a hot chocolate as a drink. Charley raised her eyebrows but didn't comment.

"We should prioritize the list," Andrew said. "We want to visit the most interesting places first."

Tungsten took the list from Tonya and studied it. "Mama Dona's has to be first."

"What's that?"

"A famous brothel and the kind of place where a hitman might talk too much."

Andrew smiled. The idea of visiting a real brothel intrigued him, but he didn't want to say anything in front of Charley.

"Sounds like a good idea," Tonya said, "and at this time of day, they won't be busy with customers. We'll need the seam first, of course."

Chapter Sixteen

Now that's a real truck stop,
Andrew thought.

The gas station occupied a big chunk of land at the edge of Las Vegas. One row of pumps was for cars, and a separate row served trucks. A building in the middle housed a shop and a restaurant. At least twenty tractor-trailers were parked in the spacious lot. Overweight men wearing baseball caps were walking around.

Andrew hadn't come for gas or food. He sensed a seam nearby. The source of energy was tiny but potent enough to do the job.

"There." He pointed. "In the back corner."

Tungsten drove the car to a particular big rig which was isolated from the rest. It had no lettering on the dark green sides. Heavy bolts in the walls suggested they were made of armor plating.

Two uniformed soldiers were sitting in the cab with the engine running and the windows rolled up. The soldiers had body armor and combat helmets. They looked at the approaching car with suspicious expressions.

Tungsten parked near the back of the truck. He, Andrew, Charley, and Tonya stepped out into cool, dry air. Andrew was enjoying the perfectly pleasant weather in Nevada.

The soldiers in the cab remained seated. The back door of the trailer opened on its own, and he heard the whine of an electric motor. A staircase came down automatically. Andrew looked inside with great curiosity.

Six heavily equipped soldiers were guarding a big safe. With their full face masks and advanced combat rifles, they looked like they had come from the future. The guns were pointed at the newcomers.

"Calm down." Andrew raised his hands in surrender. "We're supposed to be here."

One of the soldiers came forward. His uniform had the stripes of a sergeant.

"Name," he grunted from behind his mask.

"Andrew Kenworthy. My friends are Charley Lemay, Tonya Akin, and, uh, Tungsten."

The soldier straightened. "Tungsten?"

"That's me," Tungsten said.

"
The
Tungsten?"

"In the flesh. I'd love to shoot the breeze with you, but we have a job to do, sergeant."

The soldiers had brought kits for taking fingerprints, retinal scans, and other forms of biometric identification. The readings were sent by radio to another location, presumably the Vault.

The elaborate procedure amused Andrew with its pointlessness. He was already close enough to the seam to employ mind-control on the soldiers. Invisible energy pulsed out of the safe and filled the back of the truck.

Finally, the checking and rechecking was done. The safe had two digital combination locks. One soldier typed in a passcode, and another soldier typed in a second. Working together, they turned the handles and opened the safe.

An ordinary cardboard box was inside. Nobody else went forward, so Andrew took the initiative and grabbed the box.

The soldiers backed away as much as possible within the confines of the trailer. Andrew forced himself to not smile at the dramatic reaction.

He opened the lid of the box and discovered a stone statuette inside. It had arms, legs, breasts, and a bulbous belly.

"It looks like an ancient fertility idol," Charley said.

Andrew nodded and took the statuette out of the box. The dark black material had a polished surface with a few chips from rough handling. The seam was located where he would expect the heart to be.

"We should give it a name," Tonya said. "All unique artifacts need a name. Something dark. How about the Raven?"

Charley nodded. "I like it."

"You have the item," a soldier said, "now go, please." He sounded afraid.

"Sure," Andrew said.

He left the truck, holding the Raven tightly against his chest. He made sure not to trip on the stairs.

His teammates followed, and everybody sat in the car.

"I'll let you hold it," Tonya said, "but you have to promise you'll be mature and responsible. A portable seam isn't a toy. Don't force me to take it away."

"I won't," Andrew said.

Tungsten started the car. "Onwards to Mama Dona's," he announced as he drove off.

"How did that guy know you?"

"I was something of a legend at Mumford. When a soldier needed to eat a slice of humble pie, they called me, but I don't want to brag. Let's just have some peace and quiet."

Andrew turned to Charley, and she shrugged.

* * *

Andrew sighed with boredom. If he had known the drive to Mama Dona's would be so long, he would've suggested the team try another destination instead. Apparently, prostitution was illegal in Clark County which contained Las Vegas. To reach any legal brothels, one had to leave the county.

The barren landscape hadn't made the trip any quicker. Southern Nevada was an endless wasteland of sand and dry brush. Distant mountains broke up the horizon, but Andrew didn't see any green on them either. Getting lost in the desert would be a death sentence. He didn't understand why anybody would want to live in such a desolate place, but he had grown up in verdant farmland.

"Why would a hitman choose a legal brothel?" Andrew said. "I'm sure tons of prostitutes work in Las Vegas."

"The brothels are safer," Tungsten said. "The girls have to get checked for diseases, and there is no chance of getting busted. They have the finest amenities. The top brothels attract the top talent. Discerning clients prefer them."

"Have you ever used one?"

"Sure, but you'll have to get me drunk to hear about it."

Finally, the car arrived at its destination. Several low, wide buildings made of wood and stucco connected to form a single aggregate structure. The exterior was a shocking pink. Painted black silhouettes of naked women hinted at the activities inside. The windows were small and covered with red gels.

"Do I have to go in?" Charley said.

"Of course," Tonya said. "You're part of this investigation."

"But..."

"It's not like naked women will be having sex in the hallways, at least I don't think so."

Everybody got out of the car and went inside the building. The reception area had a full bar staffed by a bartender in a spiffy black and white uniform. A small platform with a brass pole stood in the middle of the room, but nobody was using it. Small tables provided places for clients and girls to get acquainted.