Mark Stone - The Judas Line

Just in time. A wave slammed hard into the berm, shooting a gush of water into the air high enough to ruin my $650 Barker Blacks.

From my vantage point, I saw a swirling vortex in the heart of the water, steaming and churning, bubbling and seething with savage energies. The burbly cries of Water came to me faintly as the sprites whisked me away toward the country club and soon I flew out of sight, leaving the hissing, boiling reservoir behind me.

Usually Air sprites are about as reliable as hummingbirds on heroin, but these particular elementals managed to land me in the parking lot of the country club without dropping me from too far up. I did twist my ankle when I landed.

“Well thank you very much , assholes,” I cursed under my breath. Laughing merrily, the sprites fled into the sky.

Later, after a couple of shots of Glenfiddich and a Healing for my ankle, I called Julian.

“I am sorry sir, but the entire complex is a loss,” I reported, fingering the molecular knife in my pocket. “We were under attack and I had to initiate the self-destruct protocol.”

“Everything is lost, then?” A dangerous edge crept into his voice. “All the research, all that money sunk into that laboratory is wasted ?” His soft words were as harsh as a scream.

“Not a total loss,” I soothed, blinking rapidly as sweat poured into my eyes. “I have the Crystal Drive. The data of all the projects we were working on are stored on it, not to mention all the reverse-engineering specs for the Drive itself.”

“So what, Olivier? It is just one invention out of many.”

“So what? Julian, the Drive is revolutionary ! It alone is worth tens of billions of dollars! Not to mention the tech from the Drive will help us build computers generations ahead of the competition. With this, we give ourselves the edge over the Liar’s minions. A big edge. No computer system on the planet will be able to withstand us.” Okay, a stretch. It would take years for us to develop the technology offered by the Crystal Drive, but he did not know that … yet.

When he spoke next, his tone was milder, but no less deadly. “Are you sure, son?”

“Julian … Father, I’m sure.” A blatant manipulation, but I’m sure he appreciated the gesture. “Computers are the future. Everything will be computerized in the next twenty years, so think about us having the best, the fastest computers around. What will that do for the Sicarii?”

“Who attacked us?”

I licked my lips nervously but kept my voice steady. “My guess is the tech baron we stole the drive from. Only he has the kind of money to trace the theft to us. Whoever the attackers were, most likely mercenaries, they are dead now.”

“I’ll be in New York in a couple of hours. Meet me at my suite.”

“Yes, sir.”

Click. I sat there in the General Manager’s office for a good minute until the annoying drone of the dial tone shook me out of my reverie. Julian was coming and that could mean one of two things: a) My ass was about to be turned into a lace doily or b) He wanted to commend me on a job well done. a) would give me a quick disappearing act while option b) allowed me to live a few years longer.

I sure hoped it was option b), because this was one meeting I could not afford to miss.

?

Pages and pages of crisp white paper slipped through fingers numbed with shock. Jude had murdered a man! I looked at him sleeping peacefully on the bed, lips parted slightly. All these years I hadn’t seen him as a person who could actually kill someone. Granted Dr. Gillan had been a slimy little toad, but crushing his throat and leaving him to choke to death? And enjoying it?

Who was the man whose story was recorded on these pages? Arrogant, cocky, cold and manipulative … not the person I traveled with. Was that what he used to be, or what he now hid beneath a veneer of friendship?

I knelt and began to pray, not just for my soul, but for my friend’s as well. God had led me to Jude, I knew it like I knew the faces of the men I served with in the Iraqi desert, my brothers born of trial and blood. Therefore I would trust in God and my instincts to help me lead Jude/Olivier upon the path of righteousness.

But that didn’t preclude keeping a close eye on him.

Jude

Showering came only after I used Avoidance, which, to me, smelled like hospital disinfectant. For a while the spell would mask my presence from … well, everyone, but a lifetime of casting Avoidance every time I feared contact with water looked daunting. Something would have to be done about the Primal Water Julian possessed.

My Cabo Wabo t-shirt was a loss, so I made do with a dark gray, skintight, long-sleeved Henley. Mike still wore his dog collar and black duds, looking as if he hadn’t gone to sleep at all. Which made me realize he probably hadn’t; instead he had most likely read more of my memoirs. From the covert glances he shot my way, I thought I knew which part he’d just finished.

Damn.

How did you talk to your best friend about a man like Gillan and the contemptuous ease with which you ended his life? Could Mike understand? Would he? Hell, it’s been years and I still didn’t quite understand, and I was there!

“Mike,” I began.

He held up a hand. “Not now, Jude.” The look he gave me held buckets of disquiet. “I have to sort some things out for myself, okay?”

“Okay, man. Whatever you need.” If he needed time, time he would get.

Mike held up the silvery crucifix that had dispelled the demon, twisting it to and fro in the harsh light of the room. Sighing, he placed the chain around his neck and let the crucifix dangle to rest between his pecs.

“Where to now, Jude?”

I rubbed my chin. “We go to see Leslie Winchester.”

His icy blue eyes grew wide. “Leslie Winchester? The Leslie Winchester?”

“That would be her.”

“ Cinnamon Relic Leslie Winchester, one of the greatest rock bands of all time Leslie Winchester?”

“Yes, that Leslie Winchester?”

He sat down abruptly on the corner of his rock-hard bed. I hoped he didn’t have hemorrhoids. “I used to listen to Cinnamon Relic all the time. I had their Greatest Hits record. Nearly wore the vinyl down to nothing listening to it.”

“Well, you’re sounding like a broken record, so there’s some synchronicity there.”

“Har-de-har-har… What’s she doing in Las Cruces?”

“She lives here, well actually in Mesilla, in a castle she had built special.”

“A castle?”

“She’s crazy about them, fancies herself a noblewoman of the middle ages and wants to live as one, or some such nonsense.”

Mike pondered the insanity of aging rock stars for a moment. “I’m keen to meet her, but why are we going?”

“I believe she has the Grail.” I licked my dry lips and repeated, “The Holy Grail.”

Mike shook his head ruefully. “Of course she does. How silly of me not to have known.” He blew a sigh through his nose. “Well, let’s go.”

“That’s it?”

“What?”

I scratched my head. “I thought you’d be more-”

“Flabbergasted?” he asked.

“As good a word as any, but yes.”

Mike fingered his crucifix and stared at the ceiling for a beat. “Listen Jude, I’ve seen you summon elemental beings, use Words that give you amazing abilities, and I’ve read about an amazing device called a molecular knife that you say exists.” Another sigh. “I am quickly running out of skepticism. It seems that my reservoir of disbelief is running dry.”

Good point. Time to reduce the skepticism ratio even more. “Thanks for the reminder.” I fished the knife in question out of my duffel and thumbed the button.