Cracks in Reality (Seams in Reality Book 2) (41 page)

* * *

Blake was riding on a platform with all 392 PCUs. The heavy-duty transport system could handle the weight easily. Rubber wheels and electric motors kept the noise down to a whisper.

He counted the portable seams with delight. He could easily pick out the individual sources of energy in the boxes. There were fourteen seams, each priceless, and several were even more powerful than the Russian Eye.

He was passing through a secret tunnel. The platform had actually been the floor of the silo before it had moved out of the way. False floors and secret doors were part of many classic magic tricks.

Some dead soldiers were sharing the ride. Blake had killed them using a pistol with a suppresser. He didn't need any extra company.

After travelling at a slow pace for a quarter-mile, the platform entered a domed chamber with rough-hewn walls. Floodlights cast bright light. Phillip and the six assassins were waiting for Blake.

"Any trouble?" Phillip said.

"None," Blake said.

The chamber had many tools for cutting and opening steel boxes. They spanned the range from simple hacksaws to abrasive chop saws to a state-of-the-art water jet capable of 100,000 psi. Blake wasn't going to bother trying to unlock the boxes. Hoists and forklifts would allow the team to move the heavy containers. Blake even had a giant vat of liquid nitrogen for freezing steel and making it brittle. He had made sure that one way or another, the PCUs would give up their prizes.

He hopped off the moving platform. "Let's get to work. We may not have a great deal of time."

Blake looked over at a bank of video monitors on stands. They showed views from hidden cameras inside the missile silo complex. People were running around like their hair was on fire. Gun battles had broken out in several places as real soldiers fought fake ones. Blake guessed the fight would end quickly, and his side would lose badly. The Army was taking out the garbage for him.

He smiled.

* * *

A jolt woke up Andrew. He didn't know how long he had slept, but it hadn't been enough. He was disoriented with exhaustion.

He was onboard a private, chartered airplane. A propeller engine in the nose created noise and vibrations throughout the entire aircraft. Eight passenger seats were packed together with minimal leg room, and Andrew, Charley, Tungsten, and Tonya occupied the front four. The air was cold and had an odd odor which Andrew hoped wasn't engine fumes.

He rubbed his eyes and looked out a window. The plane had landed at an unfamiliar airport, but he assumed it was the Tucson International Airport. A terminal had a dozen or so gates, but the lights inside the terminal were mostly off, and clearly, it was closed for the night. It was too dark to see much else.

Andrew's phone rang. He groggily checked the caller ID and saw Director Webster was calling.

Andrew shook his head to clear it and answered the call. "Yes?"

"Where the hell have you been?" Webster said. "I've been trying to reach you!"

"We were in the air. We just landed in Tucson, I hope."

"I didn't tell you to go there."

"You didn't tell us not to," Andrew said. "We figured it was a good idea. It's the closest city to the missile silo."

Webster exhaled. "I suppose I can't complain. I actually need you and your team at the silo ASAP. There is a problem."

"I'm not surprised."

"The contents of the Vault have gone missing."

"All of it?" Andrew's eyes widened. "Are you serious?"

"Unfortunately, yes. Somehow Blake stole the entire lot from under the nose of the Army. Mind-control was used on General Ross. It's a total disaster. Two of my men will pick you up at the airport. Meet them out front. Bye."

Andrew put away his phone and summarized the call for his teammates.

Tonya sighed and shook her head. "That snake got us again. He must be laughing his head off at how foolish we look."

The airplane taxied to a spot near the terminal, parked, and shut down its engine. Everybody climbed out. The weather in Tucson was cool but dry and pleasant. The still, night air was dead silent. The team retrieved their luggage from the belly of the airplane.

They took the long walk around the terminal. Cacti, stunted trees, and dirt were used for landscaping. Andrew had grown up in lush farmland, and to him, the desert was a hostile, alien environment.

The team eventually reached the front of the terminal. The Tucson airport had only one level, and Andrew could see all of it from one spot. As he stood and waited for his ride, he wondered if he could take a quick nap. He didn't see a comfortable place to lie down.

Tanya was holding the Raven, and the trickle of energy it emitted helped Andrew keep his eyes open. He moved closer to the figurine to get a little more stimulation.

A blue minivan eventually pulled up.

A man in a blue suit leaned out the passenger window and said, "Andrew Kenworthy?"

Andrew nodded. "That's me. This is Charley, Tonya, and Tungsten."

The BPI agent stared at Tungsten, probably because he was so big and muscular, but Tungsten didn't react.

"I'm Agent Garcia, and my partner is Agent Floyd." Garcia nodded towards the driver of the minivan. "Three sorcerers?"

"Yes," Tonya said. "All but Tungsten, and I'm a master."

"Wow. Get in, and we'll go."

The team opened the side of the van and climbed in. There were two bench seats in back, providing just enough room for everybody.

As the van pulled away, Andrew relaxed. He was too tired to be afraid of what he might find at the silo. His eyes closed.

* * *

Sharp jostling woke Andrew again. He was in a dark vehicle driving through a dark night, and it took a moment for him to remember why.

He leaned over and looked through the front windshield. The minivan appeared to be driving across a moonscape. There was nothing but a flat plane of dust ahead. The headlights illuminated a narrow path through the desolation. He caught only glimpses of dry brush on either side.

Andrew rubbed his eyes. "Where are we?"

"Almost there," Agent Garcia said.

"How can you tell?"

Garcia tapped on the display of a navigation system, but the dirt road wasn't on the map. They were crossing a blank area. Only an arrow indicated the direction and distance.

"I was about to wake you," Tonya said. "We need a game plan. We'll be dealing with the Army. They don't know anything about sorcerers or seams, and we can't tell them. We're just... specialists from the BPI."

"Specializing in what?" Charley said.

"Solving these kinds of problems, I guess. We'll do a lot more looking and listening than talking. Let me answer any questions. If you see something interesting, don't blurt it out. Just mention it quietly. OK?"

"Sure," Andrew said.

Charley nodded. "But we have to fix the general. He's a victim of mind-control."

"We'll try to sneak that in without being obvious about it," Tonya said. "I'll give Andrew another chance to prove he can be trusted."

Andrew smiled slightly.

"Maybe I should do most of the talking," Tungsten said. "I know how these Army guys think. I probably trained some of them."

"Good point. We'll work together."

Andrew's happiness faded. The mission was supposed to be his, not Tungsten's or Tonya's.

He saw lights up ahead. The minivan was approaching a section of desert bounded by a square fence. Floodlights illuminated at least fifty military vehicles parked close together inside the fence.
The convoy,
he thought. Most had armor and mounted guns, but he didn't see any real tanks.

Agent Floyd drove the minivan up to a gate.

A sergeant approach the window with one hand on his assault rifle. "This is a restricted area."

Floyd took out his badge. "The BPI sent us. We're expected."

The soldier squinted at the badge for a moment and then waved the minivan through. Floyd parked on an open patch of dirt.

The team got out. Andrew rubbed his neck which was stiff from napping in an awkward position.

He saw lots of soldiers. Some were patrolling the fence, but most were just standing around. A group was sitting close together on the dirt with their hands tied behind their backs. Other soldiers guarded the prisoners warily.

Dead soldiers had been laid out in a neat square, and Andrew counted about thirty corpses. Their wounds suggested most had died from gunfire.

A group of officers came over. Andrew didn't see General Ross among them.

"I'm Major Fernandez," one officer said. "I'm temporarily in charge of this operation while the general is indisposed."

He was a short man with a neatly trimmed mustache. He was wearing full combat gear, but his proud bearing made his clothing seem formal.

"Glad to meet you." Tonya shook his hand. "I'm Tonya Akin. We're here to sort out this mess."

"How do you intend to do that?"

"We'll see."

Andrew pointed at the soldiers who had their hands tied. "What happened with them?"

"When we arrived here, the site was already guarded," Fernandez said. "It eventually became clear those soldiers were not legitimate. We arrested them and shot those who resisted."

Andrew raised his eyebrows in surprise. He guessed the fake soldiers worked for Panetta.
Blake did a great job of staging this trap
, Andrew thought.

"Let's talk to the general," Tonya said, "if you don't mind."

"He's not well," Fernandez said.

"Maybe we can help him."

He gave Tonya a suspicious look. He turned towards Tungsten. "Tungsten? Is that you?"

"Yes, sir," Tungsten said.

"I heard you retired."

"I did for a while. Let's just get to work. OK? I'm too tired to answer questions from fans."

Andrew noticed other soldiers in the area were pointing at Tungsten and whispering.

"Of course," Fernandez said. "This way."

The group headed towards a large, green vehicle with eight oversized wheels. A hatch in back provided access for passengers. The armored hull had steep angles which Andrew guessed would deflect the force of blasts.

Tonya discreetly passed the Raven to Andrew. "Use a light touch," she whispered. "Fix the general without letting him know you're in his head."

"I'll try," Andrew said.

The black stone Raven felt heavy in his hand.

They entered the armored vehicle through the hatch. Andrew recognized General Ross from the senate committee meeting. The general was sitting on a chair with his wrists tied together and four armed guards surrounding him.

"I don't understand why everybody is so upset," Ross said. "There is no reason for concern."

Tonya smiled at him. "I'm sure you're right, but we have a few questions anyway. The BPI sent us. I'm Tonya. My young friends are Andrew and Charley."

Andrew hung back. He drew power from the Raven and entered Ross's mind. The general was locked in a nightmare involving a rampaging tornado.

Andrew didn't let himself join the delusion. He simply replaced it with calming images such as pools of still water and fields of flowers. He used clocks and geometric shapes to reinforce the rational parts of Ross's mind. Andrew lent Ross the psychological strength he needed to escape the trap Blake had put him in.

Ross blinked and shook his head.

He looked at Tonya with a startled expression. "It was that black sergeant! He did something to me."

* * *

A burst of energy caught Blake's attention. Somebody was using sorcery. The spell was far away, but he was very sensitive.

"Squelch your energy!" Blake yelled at Phillip. "Now!"

Both of them reduced their emissions to almost nothing.

Blake walked over to the surveillance monitors. A hidden camera showed a blue minivan parked on the grounds of the missile silo complex. He used a control panel to rewind the video, and he discovered who had just arrived.

"Andrew, Charley, and Tonya," he said. "What a nice little team."

Phillip joined Blake in front of the tall racks of monitors. "The apprentices survived," the boy said.

"Obviously, and they got here faster than I expected. Inconvenient."

"We should've made sure they were dead."

"Don't be so fearful. It's embarrassing."

Blake turned around to survey the situation. The two sorcerers and six assassins had cut open just ninety of the steel boxes so far. The need to preserve the contents had slowed the work. The men couldn't use acetylene torches for example. A giant cutoff saw with a diamond coated blade had proven the most useful tool.

Just ninety boxes had produced a tremendous collection of documents though. Books, binders, and recordings formed a pile the size of a small car. Blake had amassed enough material to keep him happily occupied for the rest of his life. He had even found the journals written by Andrew's famous grandfather, and those alone were worth all the trouble.

Blake had also unboxed six of the fourteen portable seams in the collection. He planned to get the rest, but he might not have the time. At least he had picked out the strongest ones.

"We'll continue to work for a while longer," he said. "We're safe here. We'll have plenty of warning before we have to leave."

He looked at the surveillance monitors again. An image showed Andrew and his beautiful girlfriend frozen on a screen.

"I want to recruit them," Blake said.

"Tonya, too?" Phillip said.

"No. Of course, not. We'll kill her when it's convenient. Just the apprentices. Andrew and Charley will make tremendous additions to my team."

"I think you're overreaching. Let's enjoy the fruits of our success for a while before going for more."

"Now is the best time to strike," Blake said. "The enemy is confused and off-balance. They'll expect me to just run away with the loot."

"The reason they expect that is because it's the only rational choice. We'll have enough trouble making a clean getaway as it is."

"We'll kidnap the apprentices and compel them to join. It won't take much time at all, no more than an hour or two."

"What if they give us a lot of trouble?" Phillip said.