Chapter 5

His 'traffic study' had long since concluded, and he knew to within a minute how long it should take the wolf's limousine to reach the bridge once she'd passed his lookout. And today was apparently one of the days her security had chosen that route. He picked up his cell phone and sent the pre-arranged text.

* * * *

Achmed looked at his cell phone as the message arrived. As it had three times before, it read “Pick up your fare” with an address inside the District. The wording was innocuous, but specific – had it been a real fare, the words would have been different. There was always an element of chance, he knew – three times already he had reached the bridge just a little too soon or too late to find his target, and so he had proceeded to the destination given in the message. But today, for some reason, he felt certain that luck would be with him, and he pulled out into the traffic streaming into Washington.

* * * *

Lowe sighed as she closed the folder with the morning's assessments. Whitford's eyes stayed on the surrounding traffic, watching for anything suspicious, but he responded to her mood. “Something the matter?”

“We're still not getting anywhere on tracking down the members of de Revol's group. Reynard didn't get a good enough look at them to be certain of the descriptions. We have gotten a good handle on his own activities, at least.” She grinned and tapped her wrist. “Doesn't hurt that I can ask my little friend to check what's in his computers.”

“Anything interesting?”

“He's definitely interested in longevity research. He's even gotten some information from our program. I decided to leave his spy in place for now.”

Whitford nodded. “So as not to warn him he's been compromised?”

Lowe nodded. “And for that matter, to let him keep working. If his people actually find something useful, I'm not going to complain.”

“And if he should stumble on something disgusting? Didn't the Eldest mention something about vampires?”

“Thor did. Uskaraji undead of some kind. If he does, then we deal with it when it turns up. But for now, I've asked Reynard to keep his revenge on the back burner.”

“And will he do as you ask?”

Lowe chuckled. “He says a proper vengeance will be the work of years anyway, so he's happily engaged in setting up a long-term scheme.”

Whitford laughed. “I suppose that's fair. After all, we don't know if any of the others have actually done anything illegal at this point anyway. Could have just been a business conference or --” He stopped abruptly, focusing on the taxicab coming up behind them in the other lane. He slapped the intercom switch to the driver's compartment. “Evasive! Red Top cab, behind and closing!”

* * * *

Achmed smiled as he turned onto Washington Boulevard and saw his target ahead. <A little behind, but I can catch up. Tonight I will dwell in Paradise!> He jockeyed his way through the traffic, closing the gap as the limousine turned onto the bridge.

* * * *

“What's the matter, John?”

“Arlington cab, driving into DC -without- a fare. Middle eastern driver. We--”

“It is too late to stop him now. We must jump.” Lowe's voice was odd, almost echoing, and he risked a momentary glance. The white wolf's eyes were solid white, glowing faintly.

Whitford took only a moment to decide. “You heard her, Frank. Stop the car!” The driver slammed on the brakes, earning a sudden chorus of blaring horns behind them as Lowe popped open the right-side door and sprinted for the edge of the bridge. She jumped without a moment's pause, clearing the railing and diving into the river below. Whitford was right behind her. Frank had a little farther to go before he could do the same.

* * * *

Achmed swore as the limo suddenly stopped in the center of the bridge, the occupants running for the edge as the disrupted traffic dodged in front of him. <No! They cannot escape now!> He aimed the cab for the rear of the stopped vehicle and pressed the detonator as they reached the railing. The cab erupted in a fireball, shattering glass and vehicles on both sides of the bridge as the C-4 loaded into the vehicle exploded.

* * * *

The explosion lit the sky above them as they fell toward the Potomac River sixty feet below. The bomber's timing had been thrown off enough, though, that the bridge deck itself shielded her and John from the blast. The driver was not so fortunate – being a second behind the others put him twenty feet closer to the edge of the blast zone and he had taken enough of a jolt to be knocked unconscious. The wolves hit the river cleanly. The human hit the water like a sack of potatoes.

Lowe surfaced, kicking off her shoes and treading water for a bit as she shed her jacket as well. John surfaced beside her a few seconds later. “Where's Frank?”

“Already... floating downstream. Better get him... before he drowns.” Lowe swam after the guard, Whitford right behind her. They quickly got him turned over, and began a lifeguard carry to get him to the Washington bank. Above them, survivor's cell phones began to alert emergency services to the carnage on the bridge itself.

The water was quite chilly, and even the Arctic wolf was shivering by the time they got out of the river. “Two birds, one stone.” she muttered to herself as she used a recently-learned spell to light a few bits of driftwood and a patch of grass on fire next to the injured man.

The duty officer at the Fireside Chat started when he heard his own name spoken by the flames. “Director? Is that you?”

“The blast on the Memorial Bridge was aimed at me, Tully. John, Frank, and I are on the rivershore just south of the Lincoln Memorial. Car bomb in a taxi, the casualties are going to be horrific. Get the first responders moving if they aren't already, but send an ambulance to find us. Frank's in a bad way, he didn't get clear in time.”

“Right away, ma'am.” He was on the mirror link to the White House before the wolf's image had faded from the fireplace.

* * * *

The ambulance driver, a cheetah-changeling, was not happy about being diverted en route, and was not in a mood to keep it to himself. “There's people who need us on that bridge, Mac, and they're sending us to a river injury instead?”

His human partner just shook his head. “Rob, don't be a bigger nitwit than you have to be. How do you think they got -into- the river?”

The cheetah paused, and his ears turned pink as he blushed. “Oh. Right.”

“Exactly. And there they are. Wonder how they figured out smoke signals that quickly?” The two EMT's manhandled the stretcher down the brief embankment to the water's edge.

Lowe pointed to Frank as they arrived. “He's got the worst of it. He got caught by the edge of the blast, and he hit the water hard. Might be a broken rib or two, plus some water in his lungs before we got his face into the air. His neck and back are fine, though. Get him up quick and you can come back for more victims.”

“Ma'am, we're the professionals here. We'll be.. the.... judge...” Mac's voice faded as the wolf's eyes glowed and she bared her fangs. “You're sure of that, ma'am?”

Lowe nodded, her eyes fading back to normal. “I am. We can ride along. We're both just cold and wet. Time is important, and I can assure you there will be no bad results.”

Both EMT's nodded. “If you're sure.” Mac glanced up at the bridge, where a helicopter medevac was already landing while a second stood off until the first could get clear. “Yeah. Let's do this quick, and we can be on our way back. It's going to be an unpleasantly busy morning.”

* * * *

CBS Evening News
21 MAR 2017

“A horrific scene in Washington DC this morning, when a terrorist bomb exploded on the Arlington Memorial Bridge. Eighteen people are confirmed dead at this time, and thirty-seven injured, two in critical condition. We spoke to Bill Plante, our White House correspondent, earlier this evening...”

“Scott, it has been confirmed that the bombing was carried out by a vehicle disguised as a taxi. One survivor claims that there was a traffic tie-up just before the bomb exploded, and if you look at the aerial views, it does appear that the center of the blast occurred very near a limousine. The President's press secretary has refused to comment on the idea that the bombing may have been an assassination attempt against an administration official, but he did state for the record that none of the Cabinet or other senior officials were injured in this tragedy...”

Lowe turned off the television set, annoyed at the whole affair. “Atrocity, you dimwits. A tragedy doesn't require evil.” She sighed. “At least they haven't twigged to who he was after. Blasted reporters have no sense of opsec at all. If we're going to backtrack him, we're going to need a lot less noise and fanfare while we dig for clues.”

Whitford shrugged. “At least you noticed in time to get us out of there.”

The white wolf sighed. “You're the one who noticed. I just kenned out the escape. Almost too late for Frank. And you heard the tally. Eighteen dead because they were trying for me. And now we'll have to go to an increased security regime to keep the lunatics away from me. That's going to make hunting for the Alpha even less convenient.”

“I doubt you'll be able to do it for at least a year after this. Maybe I can do it for you at some point.”

“Hah. You just want an excuse to get out of DC for a bit.”

Whitford shrugged. “Not without you, I don't want to. But you're just thinking of it as an excuse, yourself, aren't you?”

Lowe chuckled. “You noticed. No, there's not much that I need to tell him at the moment. I do want to ask him where he spent the last couple thousand years. I suspect it was Alaska, in the volcanic belt near Anchorage.”

“Plenty of time for that later. For now, finish your soup and be glad the President told you to take tomorrow off. You can use the rest while they set up the new driver and routes.”

* * * *

Stavros was watching the city when his subordinate stepped out of the elevator. “The news media is all shocked at the incident in the capital, Julian. Did this have anything to do with our conversation in regards to the President's advisors?”

'I'm afraid so, Mr. Stavros. Unfortunately, working through deniable links limits the pool of available operatives, and... quality is rather difficult to ensure.”

“Still, it was a good try. According to my sources, she -was- on the bridge, and only escaped by diving into the river at the last moment. Which says some interesting things about her security if they were able to spot and identify the threat at the last minute that way.”

“My thought as well, sir. Her secret service code-name is Diviner. This escape makes me wonder if the name might have some literal truth to it.”

“Precognitive? It would indeed explain a great deal. Including her ability to tap into computers. If she can predict the results of trying different access codes...”

Valazquez nodded. “It would, sir, but I think there is more to it than that. Her people have managed to find things that were on isolated computers, systems that were not hooked up to the Internet in any way. The good news is that there is no way to trace the bomber back to me – that detail has already been seen to – and from what little I have been able to find out, there is no sign that they suspect that it is anything but another suicide bomber. Convenient to have a ready-made scapegoat at hand.”

The old man nodded. “It is, at that. We shall have to wait before trying again, I think. Too much focus on the wolf – particularly if she is able to foretell things – would only attract attention.” He made his way back to his desk and sat down, gesturing to a chair for his subordinate. “So, what else do you have for me this week that wasn't in your official report?”

“The primary one is that we have obtained an outline of Metaceramics' process for producing artificial jade. If your technical people can reproduce the process, you will have an excellent chance to dominate the bidding for the contracts coming up when the conversion from electrical generators to mana generators goes into full swing.”

Stavros nodded. “Or to manufacture them for home sales, if it proves too costly to do that on a centralized basis. The utilities will want to preserve their monopoly business model, of course, but if a dispersed model works better, we have no reason to maintain the status quo as long as we can divest ourselves of utility holdings before that becomes obvious to others...”

* * * *

Lowe and Whitford were taking advantage of their mandated day off to relax in front of a fire. A proper fireplace had been installed a few months after she had been given the NSA directorship, for communication with the Eldest and the other Immortals. A small fire was kept lit whenever she was at home for that purpose, but on cold days they took advantage of it to have a proper fire to sit beside. Neither of them was expecting the shift today, and they were both momentarily annoyed when it appeared that work was not going to leave them alone after all.

The flames reshaped into the image of the sorceror Prince of the Sahara. “Lady Seeress? You are well?”

The white wolf's ears flicked up as she saw who the sender was. “Prince Haroun. I am well enough. I take it that you heard of our... misadventures?”

“I have. Bast told me what had happened. Another of these 'suicide bombers', she said?”

“So it appears. We are only starting to backtrack his trail, but it seems unlikely that it was a coincidence. The survivors agree that the bomber was actively trying to ram my vehicle before detonating his device.”

“This makes two attempts on your life, Diviner.” He turned a palm up. “Or on the Guardian, I suppose, since he was there both times as well, but...”

Lowe nodded. “But I would seem to be more dangerous to the enemies of the United States. And in both cases the attempts were made by Muslim fanatics. Once is happenstance, twice is coincidence. The third time, they say, is proof, but I have no real interest in finding out that way. If nothing else, it is too costly in innocent lives.”

“It is that.” Haroun nodded. “I have seen some of the images. This is what they planned to do in -my- city during the rebellion?”

“Something very similar, at least. Smaller devices that could be carried by one man, but Ba-Yabel tends to be more densely packed and even small bombs would have killed many. It is a coward's weapon, though they claim it is bravery to kill innocents because they cannot face us on the battlefield. English has a word for this. 'Sophistry'.”

Haroun chuckled after she finished explaining what the term meant. “I see your point. I am glad to find that you are well, Diviner, and I offer any assistance that I can in putting a stop to these sorts of things. I have told my people to keep their eyes open for plots against you and the other young Immortals, just in case something should turn up over here.”

“That is most kind of you, sir. If you find anything, you can pass it on to Ambassador Knight or Frank Cabell at the Embassy. Or you can call me directly, of course, if you wish.”

Haroun nodded. “In the meantime, I would like to extend an invitation for you to visit us here, Diviner. I suspect that we will be working together for quite some time to come, and Bast says you have some long-range plans that I should hear about in person.”

“She hasn't told you about them herself?”

“She has not.”

“I guess I made more of an impression that day than I thought... or perhaps the rocket launch did. I suppose I can visit officially for some reason or other... for consultation about dealing with terrorist activity, perhaps. Have Bast send a formal invitation, and we'll work on making it happen.”

Haround smiled. “Excellent. I will look forward to meeting you in person, Diviner. Take care of yourselves, both of you.”

“Thank you, your Highness. I will be looking forward to the visit. Lieutenant Foster and his wife made Ba-Yabel sound quite fascinating.”

* * * *

Lawrence-Livermore National Laboratory
Livermore, California

The eagle-changeling regarded his brand-new double-bar insignia with a sense of accomplishment. <Four years since the world turned upside-down, Isaac. And you ended up getting behind that and helping to push.> He would have smiled at the thought if he still could, but a bird's beak wasn't built for it. These days he had to make do with shifting the feathers on his crest and around his eyes to convey expression.

He looked up as Sergeant O'Toole entered the office space he shared with three other researchers and made a beeline for his desk. “Lieuten... err, sorry. Captain MacDowell? The Director wants to see you.”

“Right now?”

“Yes, sir. Something about a new project.”

Isaac closed down his computer and stood up. “Then let's not keep her waiting.”

The Director of the Mana Studies Division was a vibrant redhead. The rumor mill said that she'd been involved in the CIA programs investigating the paranormal before the Event, and there was no denying the fact that she was able to master any new techniques that the research groups came up within a day or two, tops. The rumor mill had not been able to come up with her full name, for some reason, and her office door merely listed her as Stardancer, along with her official title. Underneath that was a less official sign reading 'Head Witch'. Her secretary looked up as he stepped into her outer office. “Captain MacDowell?” He nodded. “She's expecting you. Go right in.”

He tried to knock anyway, but the door opened as soon as he approached. “Come in, Captain. Have a seat.” She waved at a chair that wasn't half-buried in reports and waited until he'd settled into it. “How are you doing these days? Still having trouble with the lightning thing?”

He sighed. “A bit, ma'am. Ever since that first mana-bomb test. I think I must have caught the edge of the chaos zone from it.”

Stardancer nodded. “Could have been worse. And it was, for a few of the Navy folks who were too close to the Kraken when we used the real one...” She shook her head. “Neither here nor there, though. I've got a project for you and your group, should be right up your alley. You remember I took a week off in February?”

He blinked at that. “The end of the month? When your regular weekly department head meeting was cancelled?”

“That's the one. I was meeting with a few of my peers and a couple of the Elders, and we learned a very interesting technique. A long range communications spell, capable of finding and targetting anyone known to the user and setting up a chat session. Sound familiar?”

“Sounds like a magical cell-phone.”

She grinned at him. “That was what the wolves thought, too.”

He raised a feathered eyebrow at that. “Wolves?”

“The Director of the NSA and her bodyguard. She's asked me to see if we can get the same effect in an artifact that a non-mage can use.”

“So... you want us to come up with a magical cell phone?”

“Got it in one, Isaac. First things first, I'm going to teach you the spell the Elders use. And then you can see about putting it into a permanent device. Are you and your group free this afternoon?”

“Nothing we can't put off if you need to see us.”

“We'll start right after lunch, then. Bring your top three people with you, and I'll meet you in Workroom Five at one p.m.”

“1300 hours in Workroom Five.”

She waved that away. “Whatever you people call it. Never got the hang of that stuff.”

“We'll be there. This sounds like it'll be fun.”