Cracks in Reality (Seams in Reality Book 2) (4 page)

Blake straightened his jacket and adjusted his tie. He was wearing a gray silk business suit tailored to fit him perfectly. He carried a black leather satchel. His most valuable possession, the Russian Eye, was in a pouch under his shirt. Mind-control was more effective when the victim looked into the green depths of the emerald, but Blake could still perform sorcery with it hidden. The tiny seam inside the crystal sputtered like a fuse on a stick of dynamite. The energy flow lubricated his mind and gave him confidence.

He went to the front door. One of the guards immediately moved to block him.

"Can I help you?" the big, Hispanic man said.

"I have an urgent appointment with Mr. Panetta," Blake said.

His sorcery and the power of the Russian Eye made the words extremely compelling. It wasn't full mind-control. It was just a small adjustment in the man's beliefs, a conviction that Blake was telling the truth, but the situation didn't demand an elaborate spell. Swaying such a weak mind was child's play for Blake. He simply had to project a command telepathically.

"I have to pat you down," the guard said.

"No, you don't. I'm unarmed."

The guard hardly blinked as he opened the door and held it. Blake went inside. The lobby was an impressively large space with chestnut brown carpeting. Real wooden panels on the walls and ceiling created a rustic atmosphere. The receptionist looked lonely behind a desk at the far end of the room.

Blake walked up to her. She was a strikingly beautiful woman with long, black hair.

"Hi." He smiled. "Mr. Panetta wants to see me. It's urgent."

"You are?"

"Mr. Torvus."

The receptionist typed on her computer. "I'm sorry, but I don't see an appointment."

"Mr. Panetta wants to see me
now
. Take me to him."

Blake tapped into the power of the Russian Eye and hammered the statement into her mind.

She shuddered and stood up. "Follow me, sir."

"Thank you."

The receptionist led Blake through the building. Scores of lawyers and clerks were working hard at their desks. It was a real law office and probably very profitable even without the illegal income.

Mr. Panetta had a private secretary, and Blake used mind-control to get past her. More beefy guards in business suits presented another obstacle. Their guns in holsters were barely concealed. Some well-chosen words and a blast of sorcery deflected their interest in Blake. He finally entered Panetta's office.

The space was big enough for three executive offices. It was furnished with Victorian antiques which Blake assumed were authentic. Obsidian inlays turned a massive mahogany desk into a work of art. Mother of pearl highlights created a contrasting effect in a tall cabinet. Stuffed trophy animal heads were mounted on the walls, and the collection included a bison and a lion. The windows were so dark and thick, it was hard to tell it was daytime.

An old man stood up from behind the desk. "What's going on? Get the hell out of my office. I'm in a meeting!" He moved his hand towards a drawer where he probably had a gun.

Blake recognized Panetta from a description he had heard. The crime boss had short, black hair on top with gray on the sides. He was wearing a black jacket over a white shirt. His face was very light brown, but the slightly orange tint indicated it was a spray-on tan.

Other well-dressed men were in the room, and they reached under their jackets, but Blake ignored them. He walked swiftly towards Panetta. Mind-control had a limited range, particularly when using a tiny seam like the Russian Eye. Blake had to get close to his target before anybody stopped him.

"Sorry to interrupt," Blake said, "but I have a business proposition for you, and it can't wait."

Two guards in the room tried to grab him. When they got close, he stunned them with a blast of fear. It was a crude psychic attack, but Blake didn't see any need for subtlety. The two men froze and looked around with wide eyes. They would recover in a minute, but Blake didn't even need that much time.

He reached Panetta and immediately dove into his mind. Panetta was a very intelligent, paranoid, devious man, and controlling him was far more difficult than the others. Blake needed leverage. He quickly discovered Panetta was terrified of spiders. Blake used an image of a spider to temporarily freeze and disorient Panetta. Blake went deeper and found that Panetta's mother had severely abused him. As a child, Panetta had been beaten and starved regularly. Those experiences had left psychological weaknesses that Blake could now exploit.

"We need to talk privately," Blake said. "Send everybody else away."

Panetta nodded. "You heard the man. Clear the room."

The others appeared worried and remained where they stood.

"Get out!" Panetta yelled.

There was a rush for the door, and a moment later, Blake and Panetta were alone. Blake sat across the desk from the crime boss.

"What's the business proposition?" Panetta said.

Blake reached into his leather satchel and pulled out a bar of solid platinum. He handed it across the desk. "Do you know what that is?"

Panetta rubbed the silver-gray bar. "Platinum?"

"10 ounces worth fourteen thousand dollars. I know a place where two million bars are stored."

Panetta raised his eyebrows.

"The Strategic Platinum Reserve," Blake said.

"Never heard of it."

Blake took a map out of his satchel and pushed it over. It showed the Mumford Army Base in a reasonable amount of detail. A red circle highlighted the location of the Physical Containment Facility inside
Montaña de la Serpiente
.

"It's top secret, of course," he said. "Platinum is critical to industry, and most of it comes from overseas. The United States government wanted to make sure our supply didn't get cut off, so they created the Reserve. I have a plan to rob the place. It will be the biggest heist in history."

Panetta leaned over the map with a very interested expression. Blake didn't need mind-control to hold Panetta's full attention now.

"What am I looking at?"

"An Army base in New Mexico near Alamogordo," Blake said. "This won't be a simple burglary. The platinum is buried deep inside a mountain behind layers of hard-core military security. There are tanks, howitzers, and plenty of soldiers with orders to shoot intruders. Getting inside is practically impossible."

"What if we bribe one of the soldiers?" Panetta said.

"The security measures are overlapping and redundant. It's an underground fortress designed to hold off an entire army. You would need a ton of inside help to steal any of that platinum. I don't see how to accomplish that without the government getting tipped off. It's not even worth discussing."

"But you have a plan?"

Blake nodded. "I do, but it will take money and manpower to execute. You have plenty of both."

"How do you know that?"

"The word on the street is you're the kingpin of organized crime in Las Vegas. Prostitution, loans, money laundering, drugs, blackmail. It all goes through you, and you have friends all over the country. I estimate my plan will cost somewhere in the neighborhood of ten million dollars. I want to move fast, so be prepared to write some big checks right away."

"Ten million?" Panetta raised his eyebrows. "That's a substantial investment."

"A drop in the bucket when we're talking about a multi-billion dollar haul."

"What's my cut?"

"It's my plan," Blake said, "so fifty-fifty sounds fair."

"It's my money and my men. I want seventy-five percent."

Blake didn't know if the Vault held platinum, but he expected there was little if any, and it would be in the form of sorcerous artifacts, not bullion. He could promise Panetta ninety-nine percent and it wouldn't matter. The crime lord would get nothing in the end regardless. He'd be lucky if he survived the operation at all. Blake used his powers to keep Panetta from feeling any doubts or asking any tough questions.

"Sure," Blake said. "That sounds fair. I'm not greedy. The plan begins with a large real estate purchase, and I already have some potential locations picked out. I just need to know how you'll pay for it. This will be a cash transaction, of course."

Panetta furrowed his brow. He pressed the intercom button on his phone and said, "Send in Mr. Ebbers."

"Who is that?" Blake said.

"My banker."

Blake spent the next hour speaking with Panetta's staff. Blake wanted to be sure he wouldn't have to come back to Las Vegas later. The next time he visited, the authorities might be waiting for him. His survival depended on moving fast and being unpredictable. Only he would know the precise details of his next move.

After all the initial arrangements had been made, Blake went back to Panetta's office for a final meeting. Blake sat across the desk from Panetta again.

"Other people may come here and ask about me," Blake said. "They could have powers similar to mine. They will reach into your mind and try to untie the knots I've tied. They will force you to tell the truth."

Panetta's head bobbed back in forth. The man was trapped in a private nightmare which looped endlessly in his mind. He could function normally, more or less, but shackles of fear kept him under Blake's control.

"Do you have a gun?" Blake asked.

Panetta opened a desk drawer and pulled out a 9 mm pistol. Its beautiful finish used a combination of gold plating and matte black.

"If my enemies come here," Blake said. "Use the gun. Kill them all. You'll know them when you see them."

He hammered the command into Panetta's mind using the full power of the Russian Eye. Blake made sure the order was wedged in deep where even a skilled sorcerer would have trouble prying it out. Panetta would probably suffer some brain damage as a result of the rough treatment, but Blake didn't care. The failsafe had to work.

He finally left the office and walked out into late afternoon sunlight. The weather was warm by normal standards but relatively cool for Las Vegas. It was actually nice to be outside.

Blake's green Jaguar was parked on the street. He hurried over and sat in the back seat.

The driver glanced at him. "How did it go, sir?"

"Great." Blake smiled. "Take us to the airport. Tell the others to meet us there."

The driver was a short, very muscular man. His blonde hair was cut in a military style. A T-shirt with a green camouflage pattern showed off impressive biceps with tattoos of barbed wire on them. A scar along his jaw looked like the result of a knife wound. His name was Skater.

Skater was a member of a team of six professional assassins which Blake now employed as his personal henchmen and bodyguards. He controlled them completely, allowing them only limited mental freedom. They would kill for him or die for him, but hopefully, it wouldn't come to that. He didn't plan to be directly involved in any violence. Gunplay was for fools and tools.

Skater started the car and drove off.

* * *

"What is a neutrino?" Charley asked.

Andrew pursed his lips for a moment. "An electrically neutral subatomic particle. It has a very tiny mass."

"What are the components of an atomic nucleus?"

"Protons and neutrons, and those are made of quarks."

Charley was lying on the bed in her bedroom while Andrew sat at her wooden desk. He had a test tomorrow, and she was making sure he was ready.

Even though she had lived in the room for less than two months, it was overflowing with her stuff. Toy unicorns filled a high shelf, and snow globes from all around the world were on a shelf below. She had so many textbooks, some had to be stacked in the corner. She had a closet, but her famous sweater collection was too large for that small space. Her sweaters had their own dedicated shelving system which went from floor to ceiling. She could wear a different sweater every day for a semester if she wanted.

The bed dominated the room aesthetically. The bedspread was such a bright pink, Andrew wondered if it glowed when the lights were off. Fuzzy tassels all around the edge were an unnecessary addition. A stuffed Teddy bear shared the bed with Charley, and it was almost as big as her.

Andrew quietly moved over to the bed, set the Teddy bear on a chair, and took its place. He was close enough to Charley for their hips to touch, and he held her hand. She gave him an inquisitive look.

"Keep testing me," he said.

She tilted her tablet so he couldn't see the notes. "Ionization."

"Converting an atom into an ion by adding or removing electrons."

"Kelvin."

"A unit of measurement of temperature," he said. "Absolute zero is zero, but the degrees are the same as Celsius."

He moved his hand to her thigh. She was wearing jeans, but he could still feel the warmth of her skin. He rubbed her gently.

He was expecting her to tell him to remove his hand, but she just continued with the quiz.

"Superconductor," she said.

"A material that has zero electrical resistance," he replied, "usually at extremely cold temperatures."

Andrew made sure the bedroom door was closed. He and Charley were living in Tonya's house for the sake of safety. Blake wouldn't dare attack the apprentices with Tonya around. Andrew sensed her unique energy signature nearby, and judging from direction and distance, he guessed she was in her own bedroom. If he yelled, she would hear him.

Andrew leaned over and kissed Charley on the cheek. She blushed.

"Joule," she said.

"A unit of energy or heat." He kissed her lightly on the lips.

"Gluon."

"An elementary particle that carries the strong force between quarks."

He rolled over and cupped her left breast with his free hand. Her fuzzy sweater tickled his palm. He was well past the point where she usually told him to stop, but tonight she seemed ready to go all the way. He was getting excited.

She gave him a passionate kiss hard on the lips. He put his arms around her chest and squeezed her body against his. Her hand drifted down his belly.

A knock on the door startled Andrew. He sensed Tonya's energy on the other side.