Robert Crane - Omega

“What’s that?” I asked.

“Just a moment,” she said, and I caught movement at the far end of the hall, by the door to the stairwell that led out of the basement. “Here he is.”

A thin man in skinny jeans, with thick, square-rimmed black glasses came bouncing down the hall in a worn olive green jacket that looked like he had been paid by the Salvation Army to get it the hell out of their store. His black, wavy hair was spiked into an angled fauxhawk.

“J.J.,” I said as he walked up, tablet computer in his hand. “It’s always so nice to see you leave your cubicle for a little while.”

“Because the air here in the dungeons is so much fresher than what we get on the fourth floor?” He looked at me with a querying eyebrow. “Ariadne asked me to tell you what we found.”

“Found from what?” I asked.

“Fries’ cell phone,” Ariadne replied, smug. “Reed bagged it during your raid. Go on, J.J.”

“Recent history was kind of a boon ,” J.J. said, holding up the tablet so I could see. “The man’s not what you’d call real communicative, so it’s not like there was a ton to sift through in his thirty-day history.”

“I’ve heard that incubi and succubi can be a little unsociable,” I said without a trace of irony.

“That might be underselling it for him,” J.J. said. “Two numbers, that’s it. One’s a cell phone that I backtraced. Area code says it’s from Manhattan, but it was last used in downtown Minneapolis yesterday afternoon at about three-thirty p.m.” He held up the tablet and a city grid showed up on the screen. “It wasn’t logging the GPS, but just based on the cell tower data it looks like the user was pretty close to Fries’ apartment when the call was made. After that, it went dark, completely offline, no record that it’s been on the network since.”

“Whoever’s using it is either odd or cautious,” Parks suggested. “They might have seen your team bag Fries and figured you could track them down if they left the phone on for the networks to follow.”

“Or they might just be on planes or not wanting to be disturbed,” J.J. said with a shrug. “It’s not usual behavior for most users to go dark for that long, though, so I think we can assume that the phone is probably disposed of.”

I stared at the map on the tablet computer. “So that’s a dead end unless the phone goes active again. What about the other number?”

J.J. broke into a little smile. “That one is a landline for a house in Des Moines, Iowa.”

“Iowa,” Parks said as though it were some sort of curse. “I hate Iowa.”

“Why?” I asked, and caught a flash of the wolf on Parks’ face when he came around to answer.

“Because between it and the damned Dakotas, there ain’t a more boring place to drive in the entire United States.” He bared his teeth again in a scowl. “I’ll get M-Squad together, though, and we’ll—”

“No,” Ariadne said. “I want you to remain here with Bastian and Eve.” She let her eyes flick to me. “This seems like another good opportunity to test our new team in the field.”

“What do you think this is?” I asked. “An Omega safe house?”

“Based on anomalies in the property records, yeah,” J.J. replied. “It’s registered to a Peter and Sophia Larson, but the names and social security numbers in the property tax rolls don’t match any employment records, birth records, et cetera, that are legitimately alive anywhere. No employment history? No social security work or payment history for either?” The geek raised a hand as though he were offering an open palm. “Not likely to be a real person. No bank records, either, so who knows how they’re paying the property taxes and gas bill.”

“So I take my team, we reconnoiter the house, and if it seems suspicious, we break and enter?” I gave Ariadne the eye, waiting for her approval.

“Yes,” she replied. “But take Clary with you.”

I felt the enthusiasm for what I was about to do wither and die in a half a heartbeat. “Please, no. Can I have Bastian instead?”

“Bastian is M-Squad’s leader,” she said, as though patiently explaining why I was wrong. I looked at Parks and cocked my head to indicate him. “Parks has been your instructor, so you’re more likely to defer to him and his judgment rather than cleanly lead like I want you to.”

“There may be some virtue in drawing from superior experience,” Parks said to her with an edge of reproach.

“No doubt,” Ariadne said, “but this is a time of trial.”

“What about Eve?” I said hopefully.

Ariadne’s face flickered with a moment’s hesitation before she answered. “She won’t take orders from you, she’s too stubborn.”

I let that hang in the air for a moment, not letting her escape my gaze. “Know that from experience, do you?”

Ariadne stared coolly back. “Clary will listen, and he’s strong enough to be of use if you run into trouble, powerful enough to overcome almost any meta you run into.”

“He’ll listen?” I asked, dubious. “First time for everything, I suppose.”

Ariadne ignored me. “Go to Des Moines. Find this house, and get to the bottom of what Omega’s up to.”

“Don’t you have anything ominous to say about this?” I asked. “Something like, ‘Our very existence hangs in the balance’ or ‘the fate of the meta world depends on you’?”

“No offense, but if I thought the stakes were that high, I’d send M-Squad. Experience trumps youth and enthusiasm. Besides, Omega is headquartered in Europe. Whatever you find won’t be more than the five of you can handle.”

I let my jaw hang slack, and favored her with my best disbelieving stare. “So…what I’m hearing you say is that there will probably be a whole army of Omega’s thugs and minions there, as well as some of the old gods. Got it.”

She blinked and drew back in disbelief. “I just said…how did you get that out of what I said?”

“You jinxed me.” I started toward the stairwell. “I can’t believe you just jinxed me like that!”

“It’s a safe house!” she said, trailing along behind me. “A house, in the city of Des Moines. Two-thousand square feet, tops. It can’t possibly house more than a few metas—no army, no minions. And I think gods would travel in a bit higher style.”

“You don’t know.” I pushed through the exit door. Parks and J.J. had been left behind, but Ariadne trailed in my wake. “They could have one of the old gods in this place.” I paused and held the door for her. “They could have Thor. And when he smacks me upside the head with Mjolnir—or possibly mesmerizes me with Chris Hemsworth-like abs—I’m going to say, ‘I told you so, Ariadne’.” I frowned. “Assuming I survive.”

She squinted at me with one eye crinkled, slightly appalled. “‘Chris Hemsworth-like abs’?”

“You wouldn’t understand,” I said, and started up the stairs. “The point is, I’m not the biggest believer in luck, but Omega has this tendency to whack us every time we underestimate them. It’s like turning the crank on a jack-in-the-box, and when the damned song is over, the jack pops out with a mallet and beats the hell out of you.”

“Wait…what?” She shook her head. “You’re talking about abs and jack-in-the-boxes. This is a straightforward mission. Go to Des Moines, do recon, if it looks bad, call for backup. Don’t endanger your team unnecessarily. There’s no shame in admitting you might be in over your head if you see something suspicious. We can dispatch the rest of M-Squad if needed.”

I paused at the top of the stairs. “Yeah, all right.”

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” She halted next to me, her eyes looking into mine with the barest hint of concern. “You don’t normally get worked up about these things—you’re cool, calm, efficient—not predisposed to rattling on about jinxes or some faux God of Thunder’s abs. If you don’t want the assignment, it’s fine. I’ll send M-Squad.”