One Last Con Read online

  "Dammit! Not only is it locked, but it's shielded with a Fortress code."

  "Can you Hack it?" Sinza asked.

  "Sure, if I had 30 freakin' minutes," Galicia replied in aggravation, kicking the shielded door for good measure.. "Or enough CCE for a Blast."

  A low tone from her Visor informed that their pursuers had sprung the first trap. The first ten meters of the walls in the smaller corridor exploded with countless spikes and projections from either side, aimed at skewering her pursuers. While the trap was quick and dirty, her visor informed her none of the spikes had hit their intended target. These two men were better than that of course, but it was worth a try. The only positive was that it did slow them down for the moment.

  "Bollocks!"

  "C'mon!" Sinza exclaimed, grabbing the arm of her partner. "Try the offices on the right. They're on the outer edge of the building. If we're lucky, We can get out through a window!"

  The two tried several doors as they made their way back the way they came, but the results were just as fruitless. Each door opened into a windowless room used for storing office supplies or equipment. Without explosives, the women were blocked from escaping the building. Even more problematic was the fact that each door they tried took them closer and closer to their pursuers.

  The final door had a sign above it that read "Women." Elation turned into frustration once again when they discovered the door to the bathroom was locked. At the same time, another tone informed them that Galicia's second trap had been sprung.

  “Shit!” Sinza yelled.

  Both women pressed their shoulders against the door, but it wouldn’t budge. A subtle inspection by Galicia visor revealed that this door was coded as well, but in a way that she had never seen before. It was an old augmentation had been erected a long time ago. So long in fact that it appeared to be degrading, revealing flaws in its code.

  "I can Hack this!" Galicia exclaimed. "I just need a little time."

  The two pursuing soldiers had cleared the spike trap and moved forward with caution. Suddenly the one with the visor yelled, "Jump three meters forward!" The instant they sprang, the floor disappeared beneath their feet, opening up into a black chasm of unknown depth, but the smaller soldier senses were sharp. He read the trap even before receiving confirmation from his visor, and the two men cleared it with ease.

  "Got them!" the blonde exclaimed.

  Just beyond the abyss, Galicia’s third and final snare activated. Knowing that the two capable soldiers would sense the floor trap, she set the final one with that intent in mind. The two men had blundered into a stasis field, unable to move, unable to blink.

  "That'll hold them for a bit, but my visor is running low on power, and I have to crack this door, while keeping those two at bay at the same time."

  “I'll do what I can to give you some time, but you gotta get that lock sprung Gal,” Sinza whispered to her companion.

  "Just monitor them. If their Initiator makes any moves to Hack my field, let me know."

  Sinza walked the short distance toward the intersecting hall, while Galicia tapped several keys on her virtual keyboard sending Core Conversion Energy streaming into the bathroom door. She tapped again, this time using a larger amount of her energy, and the field around the door slowly began to weaken.

  Drawing her pistol, the raven-haired commando rounded the corner and abruptly stopped. An invisible wall one feet thick stood between her and the two men, who hung, suspended mid-air in Galicia's trap. She knew it wouldn’t last for long, but hopefully it would give Sinza the time she needed. Perhaps a distraction would slow their attempts at escape as well.

  “You know, I heard stories about you two," Sinza began. "Gavrael and Hanzoh, the sword and the shield. What I don't understand is why you continue to hunt us like dogs."

  The trapped soldiers glared at the woman, but kept silent.

  "You are being manipulated, and you don't even know it. But I gotta believe you are more than just mindless grunts, following orders instead of thinking for yourselves."

  Eyes narrowed as the men took in her words. Still, they remained silent.

  “Nothing to say? I was told you are both reasonable men; noble even. Do you even know why you’re here?”

  “I am here to stop two terrorists from destroying my world,” the white haired Gavrael said. His voice was low and serious, accusing while being even. “I would say there is no greater good, nothing more noble than that.”

  "We are not terrorists!” Sinza shouted vehemently.

  “The righteous blood of monks and innocents spilled by your handiwork says otherwise,” the white haired soldier retorted. “The spirits of those whose lives you cut short cry out against you.”

  “Those two incidents in Kohai; the Transit Tower disaster, and the destruction of Asakusa Temple were tragic and horrible, but our presence at the time was purely coincidental. Yes we were there, but not to damage property or hurt anyone. We were…gathering intelligence at the time, nothing more."

  Gavrael slowly shook his head.

  “I have seen the vids; I have examined the crime scenes. I have talked to one of my own soldiers whom you both attacked. His report tells me all I need to know about your actions and the explosions left in your wake.”

  His tone was flat with a touch of sadness. Sinza noted that while he was direct, there was no anger shown during this exchange. His emotions did not rule him here. This made him deadly. A focused opponent was a dangerous one.

  “Well, the soldiers yeah,” Sinza said, conciliatorily. “We engaged, but we didn’t kill him. We didn’t kill anyone. Ask your man. Take a look at your vids with a critical eye. Is there even one instance of us killing a single person? We attacked and incapacitated your soldiers, that’s true. But no deaths, ever.”

  “Thousands of people injured, hundreds of lives lost, and you tell me you had nothing to do with any of it? Unbelievable. The evidence—“

  “…Was fabricated!” Sinza shouted. “Someone set us up, probably because we made such an easy target. Can’t you see? This goes against everything we are trying to do. We’re trying to save people, not hurt them!”

  “I’ve seen the bodies personally," Gavrael responded. "Every one of those broken, burned, mutilated corpses.”

  “Those deaths are not on my shoulders, or Galicia’s. Our intentions are peaceful."

  “I suppose that shaft of light that tore through this structure minutes ago happened all by itself. Major Flanagan please, your lies are as transparent as glass.”

  "We are telling the truth!" Sinza exclaimed. You’re being used, Gavrael, you and your entire Cluster. Someone is lying to you.”

  “On that we agree. The question is, do I trust the words of my oldest friends and mentors, including the Grandmaster of my Cluster, or do I trust the word of a woman who has been wreaking havoc across Nedara? The answer is obvious. Hanzoh?”

  "I'm in, boss!"

  "What's happening?" Galicia cried out suddenly. "I'm losing control over the field!"

  Sinza had been so focused on Gavrael, that she hadn’t noticed Hanzoh’s subtle movements. By pressing his temple against his left shoulder, the Initiator depressed a stud in his visor, switching the display into "free-form" mode. Using his eyes, the sergeant had positioned the virtual keyboard just below his left hand. While Sinza and Gavrael were speaking, he slowly tapped out a sequence of characters.

  “Galicia hurry, they're breaking free!” Sinza shouted. She watched in horror as the two men slowly moved through the stasis field as if trapped in tar. Little by little, Gavrael began to unsheathe his sword, and with each passing moment their movements became faster and easier. Turning her back on Gavrael and Hanzoh, she rushed back to the bathroom door to see a weakened Galicia bathed in sweat as she continued to Hack into the door's code.

  "We've got about a minute, Gal. How much power is left?"

  "I'm at two percent, but I think I've got it."

  Sinza saw that a soft blue light had appeared ar
ound the edges of the door. Moments later it began pulsating wildly, while the door itself began to vibrate.

  Hearing a sound, she turned her head and gasped.

  Booted feet landed gently on the floor as the stasis field began to die around their two pursuers.

  “Seconds Gal!”

  "Almost there..."

  The sword in Gavrael’s hand began to attract energy from the field, as the runes lining the ink black blade began to glow brightly. He was drawing off the stasis. Moments later, the field dissipated, and the two men rounded the corner at full speed.

  “Galicia!” Sinza screamed.

  The bathroom door flew open and the women dove inside, quickly slamming it shut behind them. The lock engaged just as the two men forced their shoulders into the door. It soundly repelled their advance, throwing them both off balance. As the soldiers prepared for another assault, they heard a shout coming from inside the room, as an intense blue light erupted from under the door. After two more attempts, they burst inside, and were astonished to find the bathroom empty.

  Their quarry had vanished!

  Chapter 1

  The fateful moment between life and death is often measured by fractions of an inch. This time it arrived in the shape of an ambulance hurtling towards the young woman who had just stepped onto a crosswalk of a busy intersection in London's East End. Distracted by her deep thoughts, she didn't hear the blaring rise and fall of the vehicle’s siren as she started to walk across the street. The ambulance driver, catching sight of her at the very last second, jerked the steering wheel and hit the brakes with a screech of tires. At the sound the woman’s head snapped up and, recognizing the danger, she jumped back toward the sidewalk as the rescue vehicle narrowly missed hitting her. As it came to a skidding halt a large gout of water rose in its wake, thoroughly soaking the startled woman. Visibly shaken, she turned and looked inside the window of the vehicle and saw the angry ambulance driver shaking a fist at her through the opening.

  “Watch your arse you bloody tart! You tryin’ to get us both killed?” the burley man shouted. Finally the ambulance sped off with its siren wailing away, splitting the mass of vehicles ahead of it like Moses parting the Red Sea.

  "Bloody close," Laurina whispered, shaking the dirty water from her oversized leather coat. Her reddish brown hair was uncovered and soaked by the continuous drizzle thanks to her own forgetfulness. The red flat cap that she usually wore lay atop the bureau in the bedroom of her Virgil Street flat, in Londontown. She already felt like a mess, and now this. Blood throbbed in her temples as she railed at her own inattentiveness.

  Twit! Mind your eyes; otherwise you’ll never get this mystery solved!

  After a few calming breaths, she quickly recovered from her shock and continued on her way. She pushed through the hectic throng of people crowding the sidewalk until she reached a corner. Ducking into one of London’s quieter side streets, she walked several blocks until she arrived at the entrance of an old brownstone a few minutes later. Bounding up the wet stairs, Laurina stood in front of the familiar tall oak great door, with the large antique knocker that resembled the face of a gargoyle. As she reached for the handle, a familiar voice greeted her ears.

  "You know, you really should undress first before taking a bath," a jovial voice quipped as the door swung open. “It’s a lot more effective.”

  A beefy young man wearing faded jeans and a rumpled brown cardigan sweater stood inside the apartment grinning from ear to ear.

  "Very funny, Abel", Laurina replied shaking her head ruefully. “After seeing a half drowned woman seeking sanctuary at your doorstep, one might think that a gallant man would respond with compassion instead of jokes at her expense. And if that woman happened to be your own sister, one would think that a man of honour would be even more welcoming! But no, I have to be stuck with a brutish clod for a brother.”

  "Ah m’lady, you’ve cut me to the quick,” Abel said, throwing a hand over his heart as he stepped away from the door.

  Waving her inside, he added with a bit of chagrin, “Forgive me Laur. I know I can be an oaf at times. Do come in please."

  “How’s your pain today?” she asked, shaking the water from her shoulders as she stepped into the foyer.

  “I’ve been better. The doctor’s been talking about stepping me up to Oxycotin, but I won’t hear of it. I’d rather be in pain with most of my faculties intact than take that poison and lose my mind. It’s bad enough I have to take these.”

  He pulled a white medicine bottle from his pants pocket and showed it to Laurina. Blinking rain water from her eyes, she scanned it, seeing the word Vicotin in bold letters.

  “Poor Abel,” she sighed.

  “This bloody rain isn’t helping matters either, I’ll tell you that.”

  “Well, it’s not doing me any favours either, as you can see.”

  “Quite,” the big man replied, as he grabbed his wolf’s head cane and limped toward the kitchenette. “I’ll put the kettle on.”

  Several minutes later after shucking and hanging up her wet coat in the foyer, and after accepting a towel from her older brother, Laurina was hard at work sitting in his tiny kitchen, drying off and reclaiming her appearance. After towelling her soaked hair dry, she had just begun to comb it back into style when Abel limped over to the table with a tray of tea he had prepared. Leaning heavily on his cane, the big man settled his bulk into the seat across from her. After pouring a cup for each of them, he waited patiently, blowing over his steaming beverage while she added the finishing touches to her hair. Once that chore was finished, they sat face to face in the kitchenette in silence. Abel had seated himself in front of an incredibly grimy window which allowed only an extremely foggy view of the docks in the background. Laurina smiled as she remembered how she always used to pull his leg about how dirty his windows were, which merely prompted him to reply in a surly voice, “It’s useless to obsess about it. Dirt is the only constant in this part of the world"

  Peering through that window, Laurina could barely make out the form of a container ship being loaded, and in the foreground, the rotting courtyard of a shipping company where ancient white paint flaked off its wooden framework. A signal horn bellowed mournfully into the damp air like the call of a great seafaring god; reminding the dockworkers in a language that she didn't understand that the docks were always full of secrets.

  The view notwithstanding, Laurina found that she liked Abel's flat; his tiny, shabby kitchen, and the funky worn linoleum on the floor. It featured several holes the size of the palm of her hand, which allowed you to see clear through to the screed below. She found that she was also fond of the cheap kitchen furniture; the mismatched red vinyl covered chair that she sat upon, the worn-out wooden corner seat that he preferred, and the Formica-topped dining table laden with newspapers. Then there was his exquisite bone-china service and the quaint little tea-warmer with its tiny flickering flame. Such finery which would normally seem out of place in this neighborhood, somehow fit well within her older brother’s eclectic scheme, just like everything else he owned.

  Abel Hawks worked as a researcher and consultant at Hatchard’s Booksellers, the oldest and most prestigious bookstore in London. Even at 30 years old he was considered an expert in rare tomes, and as such, a number of first editions were in evidence in nearly every corner of his flat. He even had bookshelves in the kitchen reserved for the less valuable acquisitions, placed high on the wall below the ceiling. The remainder of the flat, three small rooms, was packed with novels (mostly paperbacks) that he read strictly for pleasure, acquired at a substantial discount. A voracious reader, Abel never met a book he didn’t like, and since he had ready access to them at the shop, he rarely left work without one. When he wasn’t reading, the remainder of his free time was spent in front of the computer.

  I couldn’t ask for a more loving and supportive brother, but Gawd, you are such a nerd!

  Laurina smiled as she wistfully admired his coal black hair, which he wo
re clipped extremely short. In the front, it ran along his forehead forming a “V“ in the center; a style most referred to as a Widow’s Peak. Had his face been thinner, it would have given him a more sinister appearance, making him more attractive to women who loved the ‘bad boy” type. Not that he was unattractive to the average woman, but his round face made him look more like a British version of Charlie Brown. While most people would call Abel fat at 300 pounds, in truth he was just big all over; a product of both healthy genes and his sedentary lifestyle. And while he had proven resistant to any type of weight-loss diet, he always seemed to be comfortable with himself and his appearance. Except for his disability, that is.

  While on his first business trip in Ireland ten years earlier, Abel had his left leg shattered after being struck by a lorry, as he attempted to rescue a little girl who had fallen in the road. Even though the child had escaped serious injury, he had not been as fortunate. During his hospital stay he experienced a setback to his condition after contracting a staph infection that nearly killed him. He endured a dozen different surgeries and many months in rehab, but thanks to the support of his sisters, he had finally recovered. Unfortunately due to extensive nerve damage, the large number of pins and bolts used in his leg, and the onset of arthritis, pain had become an ever present and unwelcome companion in his life. Though he never regretted saving the life of that child, thoughts of how the accident had changed his life for the worse, occasionally made him bitter about his fate.

  He appeared to be an intimidating figure, large of body and bone, with heavy black brows that were almost joined, making him capable of casting a fearsome scowl when angered. In reality, he was tender-hearted and mild mannered; still retaining the mischievous twinkle in his dark green eyes from childhood. Laurina wondered whether it was his lack of an aggressive nature, or his disability that was the reason for his lack of success with the opposite sex. Knowing the measure of the man like she did, any woman’s rejection of her brother certainly didn’t speak well of their character.