The Jewels of Cyttorak (12 page)

“Looks as if we have a few hours of flying ahead of us,” Hank said. “Plenty of time for a little nap.”

“That there will be,” Scott said.

“Assuming you can talk Cain into the ride,” Ororo

said.

Scott nodded and glanced at Jean. “Yeah, assuming.”

Jean touched his arm and between them silent reassurance flowed.

The map on Robert Service’s lap had more than a half dozen lines on it, forming a very clear, fairly small box in the middle of one of the wildest, most mountainous areas of central Idaho.

Under the clear night sky, Robert could see the shapes of snow-capped mountaintops below. He had been bom and raised in New York and had been to the Appalachians. And, of course, he’d seen pictures of Mount Everest and similar peaks. But he had no idea that there were such mountains as these in the United States. These made the mountains in the east look like small bumps.

And the area they covered shocked him. He had trouble imagining the
imm
ense size of it. A far, far bigger area than the entire state of New York. The jet seemed to fly forever, crossing over one range after another. How could people live out here? On the map it showed only one small, two-lane road winding along rivers between Boise in the south and the entire northern part of the state. Not even a freeway. Nothing but impossibly large mountains. The whole region was far too primitive for
hi
s tastes.

Service stared out the window as the jet made one more pass over the area. The feeling of the other gem suddenly switched in his mind and he hit the intercom button. “Exact location, please.”

A moment later the pilot relayed their location and

Service drew another line on his map. This one was right over another line he’d drawn earlier. The jet had gotten him as close as it was going to get him.

He glanced out the window again. In a way, having the gem be in such an isolated area was going to make finding it much easier.

Now, after two hours, the best he could narrow the location of the gem down to while in the jet was a nine-hundred-square-mile area of mountains. Somewhere in there was a stone the size of his fist. He’d find it, but to do so he was going to need help.

He punched the intercom button to the pilot. ‘ ‘Return to Boise,” he said.

“Yes, sir,” the pilot said and with an easy banking motion the plane turned south.

Robert Service stared at the map and the seemingly small square he’d marked off. Tomorrow morning, in Boise, he’d see if he could narrow that down. There couldn’t be that many people living in that rugged country, could there?

He leaned back and closed his eyes.

The next thing he knew, the wheels of the jet were screeching on the runway in Boise.

Jean took a deep breath of the warm night air and let it out. She and Scott had flown in the
Blackbird
to a position a mile or so ahead of Cain. They now stood near his path. She could feel the ground under her feet rumbling slightly with the pounding of his steps.

“Scott,” she said, “let me do the talking on this one.”

Scott glanced over at her, then nodded. Between them the understanding was there. He knew she had a way with convincing people to do things her way—she just seemed to know people. Since the Juggernaut’s helmet protected him from any mind control, she was going to have to use only her persuasive abilities.

She glanced up and to the east, looking at the black sky for any sign of the other X-Men. Nothing visible to the naked eye, yet she knew they were there, ready to be beside her and Scott in a flash, just in case anything went wrong.

She blanked her mind for a moment and focused on the dark study of the Professor’s in the mansion. Then she thought,
Professor, we ’re about to talk to Cain. Any suggestions?

The Professor’s thought formed clearly in her mind.
Cain was willing to aid us against Magneto when he took over Manhattan. Perhaps we can use that to our advantage. Good luck.

Thanks.

“Here he comes,” Scott said, pointing across the dark field at the looming shape.

She turned her attention to the task at hand as the rumbling thumps of the Juggernaut’s heavy steps vibrated the ground around them.

She wrapped them both in a telekinetic bubble and lifted them off the ground, slowly drifting to match Cain’s pace at a height where they could look him in the eye.

Cain didn’t bother to even glance at them, just kept

m

his gaze straight ahead, his pace consistent. The look on his face wasn’t a happy one, that much Jean could tell. “Cain?” Jean said. “We need to talk.”

“Go right ahead,” Cain said. “Seems you X-Men do a lot of that. Doesn’t mean I gotta listen to it.”

“We know where you’re headed.”

Cain grunted and didn’t even look at them. “Nice, but
wrong.
I don’t even know where I’m headed.”

Jean glanced at Scott, who looked just as puzzled as she felt. Could Cain be telling the truth? Did he really
not
know where he was heading?

“Well,” Jean said, continuing on the path she’d started. “We do. You’re heading for Idaho.”

Cain laughed this time. “And let me see if I get this right. On this route I’ll also get to see South Dakota, Wyoming, and eventually even Oregon. Right? That’s all I need is a bunch of mutie travel guides. Would you two just leave me alone? I won’t ask twice.”

“We will, Cain,” Jean said, “If you just let me tell you about Robert Service and the emerald he found in a stone temple in Korea.”

“Emerald?” Cain asked, for the first time turning his head and looking at the two X-Men, though he continued walking.

“Robert Service Sr. found the emerald in an old stone temple, but never touched it. Last night he showed it to his son, Robert Service Jr., and the son touched it and was changed.”

Cain shook his head side to side. “Nice try. You expect me to believe there’s another fella like me?”

“He’s not exactly like you,” Jean said, again glanc-

X-HEN

ing at Scott who nodded that she should continue. “Service didn’t grow as large or powerful as you are, and the stone didn’t attach to him. All this happened about thirty miles from where you turned around this afternoon.” “Okay, so why did I turn around if I was headed there?” Cain’s voice still held its biting, sarcastic tone, but Jean could tell there was a hint of interest under the surface.

“Because,” Jean said, “Robert Service Jr. got on a plane at that moment and headed toward Idaho.”

The Juggernaut stopped so quickly that it took Jean a moment to slow her and Scott down and bring them back around to face Cain.

“At exactly that moment?” Cain asked, staring at them both. “Yer kiddin’, right?”

“No,” Scott said.

“We didn’t know that for certain until later, after we talked to Gary Service, Robert’s younger brother,” Jean said. “We then checked the flight plan the pilot filed and the times are exact.”

Cain nodded, then stared at the X-Men. “So I’m after a guy by the name of Service, huh?” Cain said. “Good to know who I’m going to pound when I find him. Thanks.”

He suddenly started forward again and Jean quickly moved herself and Scott out of his way, going back to matching his pace.

“Cain,” Jean said, “at this rate, it’s going to take you four days to reach Idaho.”

“So,” Cain said, not looking at them. “Bein’ my travel agent again.”

m

“Service is in a private jet,” Jean said. “More than likely he won’t be there by then.”

“So I follow him to where he goes next. So what? He can’t get away from me.”

“Not saying he can,” Jean said, trying to keep her frustration with talking to Cain down under the tone of her voice. “We’re just offering you a ride is all.”

Again Cain glanced over at the two X-Men floating along beside him. Jean could almost feel his intense stare boring through her. She wished, just for a moment, that he would take off that helmet so she could tell what he was thinking.

Suddenly he stopped again.

And again Jean had to swing herself and Scott out and around to face him.

“Took me a minute,” Cain said, “but now I understand. You’re offering me a ride to get me to stop tearin’ up the countryside. Right?”

“Exactly,” Jean said, smiling at him.

Inside her head she heard Scott think,
He’s smarter than he looks.
But luckily he didn’t say it out loud.

Cain shook his head and laughed again, the sound like thunder rolling over the surrounding farms. “You do-gooders amaze me. Always stickin’ your nose into other people’s business, even when you ain’t asked.”

“So, Cain,” Jean said, “you want a lift to Idaho?” “Work together again? That’ll be twice in a row, y’know.”

‘ ‘It worked against Magneto and the Acolytes,’ ’ Jean said. “The three of us and Rogue worked pretty well together then.”

Cain actually smiled at that. “You got a point. Yeah, okay, why not? ’Sides, it’s no fun tearin’ up real estate unless I’m poundin’ on someone when I do it.”

“The
Blackbird's
over that way,” Jean said, pointing across the field.

“One thing,” Cain said. “Promise me you won’t get between me and Service when I find him.”

Remy awoke as the first signs of morning light filtered in through the cracks in the boards under the loading dock. Around him, the maintenance tunnel smelled of dampness and mold. He stood, quietly brushed off his duster, and stretched. Over the years he hadn’t needed much sleep each night, but when he did sleep, he could do it anywhere. Even standing up. It was part of the training of a thief. Patience and making the best of a situation.

Now it was time to see what situation faced him with Mr. Toole.

The maintenance tunnel was no more than ten feet across and filled in places with large heating ducts and bundles of wires. There was no doubt that the tunnel ran under the entire warehouse and was the utility spine of the place.

Every twenty feet or so, a shaft led upward. Most of them didn’t run farther than one floor up, stopping at the roofline most likely. But in two places the shafts went up farther, to what was clearly a second floor over part of the warehouse. If Toole was going to have an office in this place, it would be up there.

Silently, Remy climbed up the rusted steel ladder inside one of the shafts, moving slowly upward until he was level with the second floor.

In three places small tunnels led off, more than likely under the floor of the office areas. There was no way Remy wanted to be under that floor, trapped like a rat in those tight tunnels. Not his style at all.

He kept climbing until he reached the top of the ladder. There the shaft opened into an open attic area. Much better. Exposed ceiling joists and insulation covered the bottom of the attic, with boards laid out across the joists as walkways.

Remy stopped, holding onto the ladder, and studied the open area. Now the question was, which direction was Toole’s office? If the man was as power hungry and egotistical as Remy suspected he was, he would have a lavish office, most likely with a view of the river.

So toward the river it was.

Remy eased his frame silently up onto one of the thin boards and moved slowly forward, being very careful to keep his weight over the ceiling joists so he would make no sounds at all. Twenty feet along, there was a large light fixture cut into the ceiling of the room below, obviously done in just the last few years. Lots of light came up through it and the faint sounds of voices could be heard from below.

Remy eased down onto his stomach on the walkway and crawled forward until he could see down through a slot in the fixture. He could see the top of an ornate desk, a computer screen, and a dozen security monitors on one wall. One man with a balding head sat behind the desk, while another thin man stood facing him. Remy couldn’t quite make out what they were saying, but Remy had no doubt that the man sitting at the desk was Toole.

Suddenly the door opened to the office and two new figures entered.

Instantly Remy’s stomach clamped up like he’d just been hit solidly in the gut. One of the figures wore the ritual attire of an assassin, along with the plain brown cloth over the face with the diamond over one eye. In his hand he carried a longsword.

How many times over the years had Remy fought against those swords and the assassins who carried them? More times than he cared to remember.

The Assassins Guild was the sworn enemy of the Thieves Guild. Both had coexisted for decades without too much trouble, holding an uneasy truce most of the time.

But what was an assassin doing in Toole’s office? From everything Remy had heard, Toole had ignored everything about the old way of doing things, including the assassins, the thieves, and the mob.

Suddenly into Remy’s view another figure stepped, facing Toole’s desk.

This time Remy had to force the air into his lungs just to keep from gasping.

It was a woman. She wore a black bodysuit, with purple arm-and-leg light armor. Attached to the armor was a long cape that flowed over her powerful shoulders and down around her back.