Harsh Lessons
Authors: L. J. Kendall
Harsh Lessons
by
L. J. Kendall
The Leeth Dossier Vol.2
For
Patricia Mary Buttel (Patsy), 1928 – 2016. Self-effacing world traveler, and deeply loving and loved aunt.
National Library of Australia Cataloguing-in-Publication entry (ebook)
Creator: Kendall, L. J., author.
Title: Harsh lessons / by L. J. Kendall.
ISBN: 9781925430059 (ebook)
Series: Kendall, L. J. Leeth dossier ; Vol 2.
Subjects: Magic--Fiction.
Fantasy fiction.
Science fiction.
Dewey Number: A823.4
Copyright © L. J. Kendall, 2016
Cover image copyright © Mirella de Santana
Girl image copyright © Pindyurin Vasily / Dollar Photo Club
All characters and corporations in this story are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or institutions is accidental.
CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
CHAPTER 31
CHAPTER 32
CHAPTER 33
CHAPTER 34
CHAPTER 35
CHAPTER 36
CHAPTER 37
CHAPTER 38
CHAPTER 39
CHAPTER 40
CHAPTER 41
CHAPTER 42
CHAPTER 43
CHAPTER 44
CHAPTER 45
CHAPTER 46
CHAPTER 47
CHAPTER 48
CHAPTER 49
CHAPTER 50
CHAPTER 51
AFTERWORD
SHADOW HUNT, CHAPTER 1
Note:
there's a special offer if you're 1
st
to inform me of errors in the text – see Afterword for details.
Release version: 0
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I want to thank my wife, Dr Stella St. Clair-Kendall, for her love and encouragement over the years. Missing you, darling.
An ongoing thanks to Jon Marshall for his insight, support, and help in shaping Leeth over two decades.
Sincere thanks also to
ThEditors.com
for Dave's insights and advice. Here's hoping the next book won't need cutting in half! (And thanks for the Superman bit.) If you see a problem, you've probably found a spot where I ignored his advice.
Special thanks again to Mirella de Santana, the artist who designs my covers. Check out more of her fantastic art on her Facebook page at:
https://www.facebook.com/mirellasantana.digitalartist
and at
http://mirellasantana.deviantart.com/
Thanks, too, to the Online Writing Workshop for Science Fiction, Fantasy and Horror, and the writers who reviewed some of these chapters, there at
http://sff.onlinewritingworkshop.com/
, more than a few years ago.
Thank you, all.
PS: I don't think you
need
to have read vol 1 to enjoy this!
PROLOGUE
'She's a monster.'
The older man did not reply. Ensconced in his white leather chair behind the expanse of gleaming white desk, "Eagle" waited, studying him. Receding gray hair, strong jaw, and
intense
hazel eyes burned beneath heavy salt-and-pepper eyebrows. It was the eyes that had earned him his codename. The eyes, and his unique position.
Garland leaned forward, avoiding the empty vase to rest his knuckles on the polished surface. His own eyes narrowed to meet that unsettling stare. 'A homicidal maniac in a girl's body.'
He glared at the seated man, dismissing his cybernetic system's helpful offer to initiate combat mode. 'Her so-called uncle may be worse. Yet
you
want them both.'
Eagle ignored his anger; just as he'd ignored his pacing, his refusal to take a seat – and his destructive capacity. Garland fought the urge to clench his fists.
'What makes you think I want them, Detective Garland?' The deep voice was mellow, quiet. So very sure of itself.
Garland frowned, resisting the impression that Eagle could read his thoughts. He forced himself to relax. 'Get real. You had my team and I bring them here before they’d even been processed. It's pretty fucking obvious. Sir.'
'Good.'
Garland scowled. This whole situation stank. He was glad he had his team tapping his audio stream: just in case. But something
right now
was screaming at him; demanding his attention….
His eyes fell to the sculpted glass vase.
The flowers were gone.
Only the stalks remained; with a faint scent of charring in the air, and a dusting of ash around the slender, aquamarine-tinted swirls of glass on the otherwise bare desk.
At the spike in adrenaline his augments went straight to combat mode. Neural parsers scanned biological sense channels as additional electronic sensors powered up, all feeding data to the emergency threat-response system.
The two empty seats facing the lustrous desk were still warm – vacated less than ninety seconds before, the combat-comp told him. The charcoal smell: combustion of organic plant matter, probability 95%. Also detected: ozone. Analysis: laser cannon, 1.5-2kW, fired 5-10 mins ago. Active electrical current flows: nil.
Eagle simply sat, watching him. Apparently untroubled by seeing the heavily-cybered head of New Francisco's PASWAT team humming at full combat readiness.
Garland allowed himself the briefest of smiles. With a two kilowatt laser cannon in here?
Shit. No wonder he's calm!
He pinged his team, acknowledging their response even as he thought.
H
e wants me to know he wanted them.
'Why do you care what a mere detective thinks?
Sir
.'
Does he want a hostile assessment?
'Because I reviewed the report on your team's detection and apprehension, two years ago, of “The God of 34
th
Street”.' Eagle smiled. 'It impressed me. You're an insightful man, Detective Garland.'
'What makes you think that was my thinking alone? My team-'
Eagle cut him off. 'Yes, yes. Let's skip ahead.’ The eyes locked on his. 'The return of magic was a game changer. Tell me, Garland: do you want to see our nation return to its former role of the world's pre-eminent superpower?'
The large man snorted. 'Do we even
deserve
to?'
For the first time, Eagle looked annoyed. 'You'd prefer to trust China as the steward of humanity's best interests? Or
Newtopia?'
Garland scowled. 'I'm just a cop. World politics….' Staring at Eagle, he fitted two facts together: the Bureau's goal of restoring US influence, and a killer who looked like butter wouldn't melt in her mouth. 'No fucking way. The United States does not use goddamned assassins! That's insane!'
Eagle looked simultaneously annoyed, surprised, and pleased. 'Really?
You
know power corrupts, Garland. And magic changed the game for the worse. How do you think living "gods" feel about democracy?
'But take a moment to consider the sensitivity of the information you've just deduced; the consequences should it become public.'
Fuck!
I'm transmitting this to my team.
He stopped streaming, sent a signal to them – and received no response.
Holy Hannah!
He'd been sequestered from the net. How was that even possible? He met Eagle's knowing gaze.
