Deadly Weakness (Gray Spear Society) (39 page)

"Now that you mention it, I do remember seeing a note."

"The legate will be there for a few days, and I can't wait for her to be gone. If I have to look into her eyes one more time, I might freak out. It's like seeing your own skeleton."

"Too much death in those eyes," Xavier said. "I never had a chance to explain my situation to her at the camp. I was too busy running for my life. Maybe if I met her in Chicago, I could convince her I'm still one of the good guys. Do you know where she'll be?"

"No idea, and I wouldn't go anywhere near her if I were you, sir." Dew looked around again. Nobody else was in front of the convenience store.

Xavier paused for a moment. "I need your help."

"Obviously, but I don't think I can do anything for you. The legate brought four
legionnaires
with her from other cells. They're watching us all the time. I can't take a dump without somebody checking it out. Headquarters feels like a prison camp."

"All I want is some clean identification and usable credit cards."

"And would you like the moon with that, sir?" Dew said.

"I'm serious."

Dew took a deep breath. "Give me a couple of days. Try not to die in the meantime."

"I'll do my best," Xavier said. "You'd better get to headquarters before the legate gets suspicious."

"Yes, sir. Bye."

Dew hung up the phone. For a long moment he stared at it. He felt guilt, relief, and great sadness all at once. Xavier had been more than just a friend and a commander. They had been like brothers. Rhiannon's death had affected Dew almost as much as Xavier, but the difference was Dew hadn't gone insane.

Dew took out his gray Society phone and called the commander of Chicago.

"What's up?" Aaron said.

"I just talked to Xavier. He called me on a pay phone."

"And?"

"And the conversation went exactly as you predicted, sir," Dew said. "I followed the script. I told him about the legate and the headquarters."

"Good. I'll inform the legate you're cooperating with me."

"Thank you, sir. You have no idea how much I appreciate that." Dew hadn't lied about the miserable conditions in headquarters.

"No, thank you for doing your duty," Aaron said. "I know it was hard. Bye."

* * *

Xavier threw his phone into a garbage can. He had stolen it a few minutes ago and couldn't use it again.

He got into a cab that was already waiting. "The airport," he said. The destination didn't matter.

The cabby nodded and drove off.

Xavier was in downtown Kansas City. There were about a dozen tall buildings, which qualified the area as a real downtown in his mind. The tallest had smooth blue sides, and he liked the subdued yet interesting architecture.

The streets were filled with traffic as the populace struggled to get to work. His cab was just one of many trying to make progress during rush hour. Anybody pursuing Xavier would have an impossible time finding him among many thousands of other people. The Society certainly couldn't conduct a battle with so many civilians around. There was safety in numbers.

He used the rearview mirror in the cab to check his disguise. He had bleached his hair until it was almost blond. A fake brown mustache tickled his upper lip, and his face was cleanly shaven otherwise. People tended to trust a man who had recently shaved. His clothes were business casual, but a large belt buckle gave his outfit a western flair.

As he stretched out on the seat, a jolt of pain in his thigh made him stiffen. He had done the best job he could at treating the wound from the grenade, but it would take a while to heal. He needed to avoid running and climbing for several days.

As the cab crawled along, Xavier contemplated the conversation with Dew. It had been full of interesting tidbits, and Xavier was glad he had made the call.

He was particularly intrigued by the information about the legate. She was one of the Lord's prized assets in His war against His enemies. She talked about God as if He were a close friend, and she certainly knew His will at times. Killing her would be a major blow.

She would be in Chicago in three days, along with Aaron, Marina, the "twins," and the rest of that crowd. It was an opportunity for Xavier to do some lasting damage to the Society. The rewards justified the high level of risk. If he died trying, at least he could say he had gone down fighting for Rhiannon and justice.

The information about the Chicago headquarters was also intriguing. It gave him an idea for how to lure the legate into a trap. Xavier himself would be the bait. She would want to be the one who killed him in the end, and that desire would lead to her own death. Her thirst for blood was a weakness he could easily exploit.

Xavier noticed a small real estate office on the right side of the street. "Stop!" he said. "Right here."

The cab pulled over. Xavier paid the driver in cash and gave him a nice tip.

Xavier went into the office. A single agent sat behind a desk decorated with fake plants. She was young and cute but a little overweight. She wore a blue business suit that didn't flatter her.

He locked the front door.

"Sir?" she said. "What are you doing?"

"I need to do some research about real estate transactions." He walked over and sat in front of her. "You and your computers have access to the information I need. I don't want to be interrupted while we work."

"But I don't..."

He took a .50 caliber revolver from a concealed holster and placed it on the desk with a loud thunk. The wide barrel was big enough to stick his finger down. It looked like a joke gun but it was very real.

"You were saying?"

The agent's face became pale. "What sort of research did you have in mind, sir?"

"I want to see a list of land purchases made in Chicago during April and May of last year," Xavier said.

"Chicago? There must be tens of thousands of deals a month in a big city like that."

"Let's restrict the search to commercial and industrial properties with a value of more than two million dollars. The transaction will be all cash. No financing. No real estate contract. A very abbreviated closing period, maybe even as short as a couple of days. The buyer will be a corporation, not an individual."

She stared at him. "I've never heard of a transaction like that. It sounds dirty somehow."

"Which means it should be easy to pick out. Get to work. I'll just sit here and watch. If you can find what I'm looking for, I'll give you a thousand dollars in cash. If not..." He tapped the revolver on the desk.

She looked at the gun and swallowed. She turned to her computer.

Xavier put the gun back in its holster. He got up and poured himself a cup of coffee while she worked. He needed the coffee to keep himself awake. He had been on the road for three days, and he had slept maybe ten hours in that time. Exhaustion was starting to degrade his ability to make smart decisions.

After an hour, the agent gave him a printout that listed ten real estate transactions matching his criteria. It took just a moment for him to identify the right one. The name Global Real Estate Partners jumped out like a neon sign. It was one of the shell corporations the Society used when making very large purchases.

"Tell me about this one." Xavier pointed to that item on the list.

The agent went back to her computer. "Let's see. Five stories. Built in 1942. Brick and concrete construction. Near Chinatown. Oh, this is very odd. It's listed as a hazardous waste site. The building was sealed by order of the federal government. Nobody is allowed inside without authorization."

Xavier smiled.
That's the headquarters.
He drew a semiautomatic with a suppressor and shot her in the head. It was a shame the girl had to die, but he couldn't risk her talking to anybody about him. This was war after all.

Chapter Twenty-one

Hanley and Norbert stood in opposite corners of a boxing ring. They were in the gymnasium in the basement of FBI headquarters. Both men wore blue sweats. Thick pads covered their heads, hands, and feet.

"Are you ready?" Norbert said.

Hanley nodded.

They had already sparred a few times, and Norbert had kicked Hanley's ass every time. The contests hadn't even been close. Hanley was enjoying the challenge though, and spending time with Norbert was fun. They had become great friends in the last few days.

"Let's begin," Norbert said.

The two men approached each other cautiously. Hanley's only hope of scoring points was making quick moves that caught Norbert off guard. A long match favored Norbert, who had much more stamina.

Hanley came in with a fast punching combination. Norbert swept the attack aside, spun, and nailed Hanley in the ribs with a kick. Hanley staggered back.

"Try to think two or three moves ahead," Norbert said. "Come again."

Hanley furrowed his brow as he planned his next combination. He lunged forward with a punch to draw Norbert's attention and then tried to kick Norbert in the thigh. He swiveled his hips to evade the low attack. He grabbed Hanley's outstretched arm and executed a perfect hip throw. Hanley landed flat on his back.

"A little better," Norbert said. He helped Hanley to his feet.

"Aaron taught you those fancy moves?" Hanley said.

Norbert nodded.

"I taught him some moves, too," a woman said.

Hanley turned. Marina had walked into the gymnasium. She wore a blue business suit and looked exactly like a real FBI agent. Her beautiful red hair had been cut short, and a large bandage covered the back of her neck.

"What happened to your hair, ma'am?" Norbert said.

"When you play with fire, sometimes you lose some hair." Marina faced Hanley. "Don't use our real names in public places. The wrong people might be listening."

"Yes, ma'am," he said. "Why are you here?"

He hadn't seen her since the night she had driven him back to the hotel. So much had changed since then. He was finally getting comfortable with the idea of being a Spear, and she was now his commander.

"My plane is in for maintenance at Andrews Air Force Base," she said. "I gave my squad the day off to relax and tour Washington. I wanted to meet my new recruit while I was in town. Mind if I join you gentlemen in the ring? I could use some exercise."

"Sure, but you can't fight dressed like that."

"I'll find something to wear." She looked around and then headed towards the women's locker room.

When she was out of earshot, Hanley got close to Norbert and said, "What can you tell me about the woman who is about to control my life?"

"She used to be crazy for one thing."

"Huh?"

Norbert nodded. "
Legionnaires
are God's living weapons. Our purpose is destroying His enemies. Marina used to take great pleasure in the... messier aspects of that job. She would slice her opponents instead of shooting them just so she could watch them slowly bleed to death. She had the temper of a grizzly bear."

"What changed?"

"Wesley fixed her mind. He made her sane. That was about the time I met her, so I never knew the old Marina, but I heard the horror stories. She's still a master torturer. She knows ways to inflict pain that would make the Spanish Inquisition queasy. I've watched her perform interrogations." Norbert shuddered. "Very unpleasant."

Hanley grimaced. "How many people has she killed?"

"I don't know, but it has to be a big number. My advice is to be very respectful at all times. Do what she tells you to do, and don't play games with her. If you become a pain in her ass, she'll retire you."

"I'll have to quit the Society?"

"Yeah." Norbert drew his finger across his neck. "Permanently. But if you do your job well, you'll have nothing to worry about. She's very loyal to her friends. One more thing."

"What?" Hanley said.

"You're about to fight her, which means you'll get clobbered."

"Why? I'm bigger than her, and I certainly know how to fight."

Norbert put a hand on Hanley's shoulder. "If you want her to like you, keep getting up. No matter how much it hurts, come back for more until she tells you to stop."

"Are you ready?" Marina said.

Hanley spun around. She was standing right behind him, and she was wearing a blue sweat suit now. Norbert chuckled softly.

"Where did you get that outfit, ma'am?" Hanley said.

"I found it in a locker," she said.

"Somebody else's locker?"

"Of course. I'll put it back when we're done. I'm not a thief."

"Those lockers are locked," he said.

She nodded. "Cheap locks though. You'd think the FBI would use better ones. Are you ready to fight me?"

"Sure."

Her foot slammed into his temple, knocking him down to the canvas. He sat up slowly. His head was spinning.