Politics of Blood (Gray Spear Society Book 8) (4 page)

"Everybody fears me, but that doesn't mean I'm a respected leader." She frowned. "There is ample room for improvement. I think I could learn a thing or two from President Haley. People like him and still follow his orders." The spinning blade abruptly stopped in her hand. "I can't talk about this anymore. I want to see what you're doing with the Chinatown building."

"Now?"

"There won't be time later. Once Haley arrives, we'll be fully engaged with the mission."

"Yes, ma'am," he said.

Chapter Two

Aaron looked up at the side of the enormous building. Thick concrete pillars ran from the ground to the roof, five stories up. Bricks filled the spaces in between. He wondered what the original color of the bricks had been. Decades of exposure to weather and pollution had made them murky brown, even black in spots. Plywood filled some of the window frames, but more than half now had shiny new glass. The factory labels were still on the gleaming panes. A chain-link fence went around the entire property.

He turned to his companions. Nancy had come along to give a guided tour. She had a robust build, neither fat nor thin. Her thick lips displayed a broad smile. She had recently cut her brown, frizzy hair so it didn't look as clownish as usual. She wore dirty coveralls, boots, leather gloves, and knee pads. A tool belt was buckled over her wide hips.

Ethel and Boreas stood with Nancy. The legate still seemed troubled.

"Watch your step when we get inside," Nancy said. "There could be broken glass and nails on the floor."

She led the group through an open doorway into the building.

Construction was proceeding at an aggressive pace inside. Aaron saw workers pounding nails, cutting boards, and operating machinery. Bare bulbs illuminated the vast space. There were no walls yet, but marks on the floor showed where the walls would be built. Some new copper pipes were in place. A grid of concrete pillars provided structural support.

"We're turning the upper floors into apartments," Nancy said. "It will probably be another six months before anybody can move in though. The ground floor will be a little shopping mall. We're planning to have a restaurant, a pharmacy, a grocery store, and other stuff like that. It will be very convenient for the residents."

"Where will the backup headquarters be?" Ethel said.

"In the basement, ma'am."

"That's what I want to see."

Nancy led them to a stairway in the corner. A steel cage blocked access to the basement. A big, red sign showed the words, "DANGER - RESTRICTED AREA."

"We're being very careful about who goes into the basement," she explained. "Only workers who are pre-approved by Global Real Estate Partners."

"Why allow any workers at all?" Ethel said.

"There is a ton of work to be done down there, ma'am. Much more than we can do on our own. After the basic construction is complete, we'll block it off and conceal the entrance."

Nancy used a key to unlock the cage. They went down to an underground area which was significantly cooler and more humid.

"We dug down three feet to make extra space," she said. "Then we added eighteen inches of special composite concrete to the ceiling as a form of armor. There is two feet of the same stuff below us. It's as tough as solid steel. All the structural components were massively reinforced. Even if the whole building collapsed above us, this place would be safe."

Their footsteps echoed as they walked through the huge open space. The lighting down here was much sparser, and entire sections were dark.

"What are you doing for an entrance?" Ethel said.

"We're building a small parking garage across the road, ma'am," Nancy said. "A secret tunnel will connect the bottom level of that garage to this area. We'll also have two escape routes. One will lead into the river like the underwater hatch we used in the old Wacker headquarters."

"Very good."

They came to a small, brass plate attached to a support pillar. It showed the words "Neville Cantrell."

"What's this?" Ethel said.

"The final resting place of our enemy," Aaron said. "He was the mastermind behind the monkey machines. He was a strong man. He lasted five weeks without food before succumbing to starvation. His corpse didn't stink as much as I expected. There was no meat on his bones when he finally died."

She smiled. "I like that."

"I thought you would, ma'am."

"I've seen enough. I approve of this project. Proceed with it. Let's get back to the real headquarters."

* * *

Sheryl was running her index finger along the clothes in the costume supply room. Hundreds of outfits were packed tightly into racks. There were clothes for all possible occasions in men's and women's sizes. They weren't well organized though. Finding just the right costume always took time, but she didn't mind. She enjoyed the process of picking out things to wear.

"Are you having much luck over there?" she called out.

"I found some suits that might fit you," Tawni replied from the other side of the room.

"I still need an FBI outfit. Cheap and blue. What kind of clothes does the Secret Service wear?"

"I'm not sure."

Sheryl turned around to check a different rack. She was suddenly staring into a pair of unnaturally dark eyes. The enlarged pupils were infinitely deep holes, and she glimpsed the eternal silence of the grave. There was anger in those eyes, too. The Lord's anger.

"Ahh!" Sheryl screeched. She jumped back and slammed into a rack.

The legate smiled politely.

"You almost gave me a heart attack, ma'am," Sheryl said in a shaky voice.

"The Secret Service wears black suits made of high quality fabric. Their shirts are either blue or white. The women dress like the men. Dark sunglasses are common, even when working indoors. Make sure you also have an appropriate radio earpiece. I'll help you."

The legate began thumbing through the clothes. Her movements were so quick, Sheryl could hardly believe the legate was actually looking at anything. It was like watching a movie in fast-forward.

Sheryl was terrified of the legate. All the rumors were true. When she was nearby, Sheryl could feel the tangible presence of death. It wasn't a pleasant experience.

Boreas stood near the door. He watched Sheryl with narrow eyes that had an odd blue tint. He was just as creepy as the legate but in a different way. He seemed to carry an unnatural chill with him.

Tawni came around the racks. She watched the legate with a worshipful expression.

"Aaron mentioned you and Tawni are living together and having sex," the legate said as she continued to search the racks.

"He actually told you that, ma'am?" Sheryl said with a feeling of shock.

"His reports always include the important details."

"But that kind of thing is a little personal."

"It affects the functioning of the team," the legate said, "therefore I need to know. Do you love each other?"

Sheryl gnawed her lip. She really didn't want to discuss this topic with a cold-blooded monster like the legate.

"Well?"

"I think I love Tawni more than she loves me." Sheryl's face felt hot.

Ethel faced Tawni. "Is that true?"

"Yes, ma'am," Tawni said. "Sheryl is the real lesbian. I'm just... flexible about who I sleep with, and all the men are taken."

The legate nodded. She pulled out a crisply pressed, blue shirt and gave it to Sheryl. "Try this on."

Sheryl wanted some privacy, but obeying the legate's order immediately was more important. Sheryl pulled off the dress she was wearing.

"Love is very dangerous for us," the legate said. "It can get in the way of our missions."

"I know, ma'am," Sheryl said. "Aaron told us. He was very clear about that."

"It's funny. When I caught him in bed with Marina, I gave him that same speech. He ignored my sage advice."

Sheryl put on the shirt and buttoned it up. The fit wasn't great, but it was good enough. She would have a suit over the shirt anyway.

"Are you disappointed with him?"

"I'm confused," the legate said. "I don't understand why he takes such great risks to maintain a relationship with a woman who lives thousands of miles away. It would be much easier for both of them if they just gave up. That would be the sensible solution."

The statement struck Sheryl as completely ignorant of the most important fact. Aaron and Marina loved each other passionately. Abandoning that relationship was inconceivable.

Tawni nodded in agreement. Sheryl was appalled.
Am I the only person here who understands love?
she thought.

"This cell is a sexual hotbed," the legate said. "You and Tawni. Aaron and Marina. Smythe and Odelia. Norbert and the twins. It wouldn't shock me if Kamal was sleeping with his microscope."

"We're a passionate group, ma'am," Sheryl said.

"Indeed." The legate pulled out a dark blue tie with no embellishments. "This will go nicely with that shirt."

Sheryl accepted the tie. "Thank you. Where do you keep your costumes?"

"On my private jet. It's like my mobile home. Everything I need comes with me."

"You don't have a real home, ma'am?"

"I have a penthouse in New York City," Ethel said, "and my permanent office is in that headquarters, but I almost never see it. I'm always flying from one crisis to another. You wouldn't believe the messes I have to clean up. Watching over twenty-two independent cells is a task that takes all my time and then some."

Sheryl felt some sympathy for the legate's plight. Sheryl didn't doubt the job was very difficult, and the pressures were enormous.

"Aaron told us you report to God," Sheryl said.

"That's correct," the legate said. She found a pair of formal black pants made for a woman.

Sheryl took the pants. The size looked right, so she tried them on. The fit was a bit loose, but it would leave space for concealed weapons.

"How does that work, ma'am? Do you have regular meetings?"

"I feel His presence," the legate said. "When He is displeased, I know it."

"You're sure it's actually God?"

"There is no doubt." The legate looked at Sheryl with those disturbing eyes.

"Can you feel Him right now, ma'am?" Sheryl said.

"Yes."

Sheryl swallowed. Everything about this woman scared the hell out of her. "What about the other legates?"

"It's the same for them. There is an old Latin saying, but I'll translate it to English for you. A
legionnaire
meets God. A commander is friends with God. A
legatus legionis
can't escape from God."

"Oh. Do you ever meet the other legates?" Sheryl said.

"We gather at a secret place twice a year. We exchange news and advice, and debate policy. I've been to three meetings so far, and all of them were very productive. You can learn a lot from your colleagues."

Sheryl tried to imagine what those meetings were like.
Demigods and monsters,
she thought,
secretly deciding how to run the world.

Aaron walked into the room and announced, "I'm ready, ma'am."

He was wearing a white karate uniform and a gray belt. Sweat dotted his flushed face.

"Good!" the legate said with a smile. "I'm eager to see this."

"See what, ma'am?" Sheryl said.

"Aaron and Boreas are going to fight."

Sheryl's eyes widened.

The legate and Boreas left the room first. Tawni followed close behind, almost bouncing with each step.

Sheryl caught up to her. "You seem excited."

"This is going to be great!" Tawni said with a huge grin.

"I just hope nobody gets hurt."

Sheryl had never seen Aaron lose a straight match. He was more than just amazingly strong, fast, and skilled. He had an uncanny ability to anticipate his opponents' attacks and outmaneuver them. Fighting Aaron was an exercise in frustration, even for veterans like Smythe and Norbert.

Everybody had gathered in the exercise area. The whole team was here to see the show, even Bethany and Leanna.

Boreas was wearing a loose, gray jogging suit. He reached under his clothes, pulled out weapons, and placed them on the floor. He quickly built up an impressive pile of hardware. The man had been prepared to fight a war.

In the meantime, Aaron bounced on the balls of his feet and stretched his arms. He was obviously trying to stay loose. He didn't look anxious though. Sheryl wondered what was going through his mind.

Aaron and Boreas took positions on opposite ends of a blue mat. The legate stood between them.

"This is a friendly match," she said. "I'll be upset if anybody gets injured. I need both of you in one piece. Understand?"

Aaron and Boreas responded in unison, "Yes, ma'am."

In Sheryl's eyes, Boreas had the advantage physically. He was a couple of inches taller than Aaron and even more muscular. There were more ways to measure a fighter than size though.

The legate stepped back. "Go."

In an instant, the fight was on. Aaron flew across the mat with a spinning attack that would've killed most men. Boreas ducked and weaved out of the way. He inverted his huge body and landed a kick on Aaron's chest which sounded like a baseball bat striking meat. Aaron grabbed Boreas' ankle, somersaulted in the air, and landed in a stance. Boreas took him down with a sweeping arm attack that had Sheryl gaping in disbelief.

The two men went back and forth so rapidly she could barely follow the action. They both seemed to have an unlimited supply of fresh techniques. It was an incredible demonstration of skill. Sheryl became disoriented just watching.

The fight ended just as abruptly as it had begun. Boreas put Aaron in a leg lock that looked very painful. Aaron's spine was bent backwards. He slapped the mat.

Boreas released him and stood up. Everybody in the room applauded.

"You're pretty good," Boreas stated in a raspy voice. "Best fight I've had in a long time."

Aaron winced as he got to his feet. "Thanks."

"You want to go again?"

"No." Aaron stretched his back and grimaced. "I would like to see your gift though. Is it safe?"