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Listed in Folders
Chapter 28
“Walk with me, Julian.”
Valazquez looked up from his work, astonished. His boss had -never- come to his office before. He was out of his seat before he was finished processing the unusual development. “Of course, Mr. Stavros. What seems to be the problem?”
Stavros led the way to an empty office in the Accounting Department before replying. “I am not sure there is a problem, as such, but it occurs to me that my Scandinavian friend has his own motives, and I am not so sure that they track as well with mine as he claims.”
“That would not surprise me in the least, sir. Among other things, the very fact that the government has a program researching longevity indicates that the Immortals are not averse to sharing their gift. It seems more likely that they were few enough until recently, and that scientific investigation is a recent enough discovery, that they simply were unable to explain it or research it until now. And your friend does seem to have a particular obsession that seems less and less justified as time goes on.”
“That -did- occur to me, in fact. Not that I intend to stop keeping on eye on their work, of course. Once they get close, I may wish to take advantage of their findings without waiting for bureaucrats to do ten years of studies to make sure it doesn't have dangerous side effects. Personally, at my age, dying while waiting for a go-ahead would seem to be the worse choice to almost anything.”
“Even if your body should be changed to something... distasteful?”
The old man's voice was -very- dry. “Trust me, Julian. When your original body is as creaky as mine has become, transforming it as part of a rejuvenation is not an issue of concern. Even being an anteater is far less distasteful than being dead.” He chuckled, uncharacteristically whimsical for a moment. “From all reports, those who are changed are comfortable in their new forms. I'm sure I could arrange for gourmet birch-fed termites if such a thing were to happen... At any rate, I called you over here to talk where we are less likely to be overheard. Anywhere he has been could be bugged, after all.”
“What do you want me to do, sir?”
“More the reverse. He is pushing for another attempt on Thor's compound. If it should so happen that the Thunder God's security forces should be prepared for such an attack, I would not be unhappy. Provided that there is no way either side could trace it back to us, of course.”
“I understand completely, sir. Such an event could also eliminate a few problematical operatives, I suspect.”
“I leave those details to you. I am far more interested in eliminating the problem we had with the last set of elections. Thor is not important in the long run. Making sure elections produce worthwhile results -is-.”
Valazquez smiled. “I will certainly keep that in mind as well, sir. Anything else?”
“I think that's everything for now. Just wanted to make sure you knew I don't actually -trust- the Trickster.”
“I certainly didn't think you were that foolish, sir.”
“Then let's head back upstairs. It's almost time for your regular daily report, after all.”
“Just let me get today's folder, sir.”
Sterling peered out into the desert night, frowning at the activity on the usually empty roads below. “Looks like we'll need to bring a gunship the next time, Colonel. The ISIL forces are finally on the move.”
“Can we make tonight's delivery safely?”
“We'll shift a bit to the east, but I think so. They're camped out northwest of al-Suwar. Tomorrow or the day after, we find out if we've been arming friends or enemies.”
“Cynical, much?”
The bat chuckled. “Been doing my research, Colonel. And remember, I have an in with the folks generating the intel. There's been a strain in the local power structure since I helped evac a few folks out of there.”
“The three day hiatus?”
“Yep. Brought an Osprey in to bring 'em out.” <Not going to mention the nukes.> “But in the aftermath of that, the local military commander and the supposedly-in-charge cleric haven't been seeing eye-to-eye. The military guy is leaning our way, the cleric not so much. And then there's the individuals jockeying for higher positions on both the pro-ISIL and anti-ISIL sides. These guys could give Game of Thrones a run for their money on convoluted six-way civil wars.”
“Glad it's not my job to figure out that sort of thing, Captain.”
“You and me both. And we're coming up on the drop zone. Your plane, Colonel.”
“Pilot has the plane.”
“Director Lowe, this is more our bailiwick than yours. I've already had this Computers in Education thing checked out. I'll admit it's stupid, but we haven't turned up anything that's actually criminal.”
Lowe suppressed a sigh as she talked to her domestic opposite number. “I'm not trying to disparage the FBI, Director Lewis. And I'm honestly not trying to tell you how to run your organization. But I've turned up some information that indicates that your investigations might have been corrupted. Costanzis is capable of a form of mind control. Humor me, and re-open the investigation using a female agent, preferably a Changeling bird or reptile if you have one available. If they have magic talent, that's even better. But keep it away from anyone who's already checked, they may not be entirely their own people any more.”
“And you won't tell me how you know this.”
“Confidential source. But one that I trust.”
“And why is this confidential source operating in the United States? You don't have a mandate for that except for counter-espionage and counter-terrorism.”
Lowe sighed out loud this time. “He doesn't work for me. He's on another project entirely, but he's also a friend of a friend, kind of thing. It's information that needs to be acted on, and I -don't- want to step on your toes. If you won't, though, I'll have to. It's too dangerous to leave her where she is.”
“That sounds like you're threatening to operate illegally if I don't do what you tell me, Lowe.”
“Hardly illegally. I can justify it as counter-terrorism if I need to. But frankly, your people can do a better job of it as long as you can keep them from being controlled. NSA isn't really equipped to collect evidence for trials.”
Lewis chuckled at that point. “So if she's a mind-controller, how are you going to -put- her on trial?”
There was a long pause. “Right. Hermetically sealed chamber and a voice scrambler? Could we make that work, legally?”
“Don't ask me, I just catch 'em and gather the evidence. Ask the Attorney General.” He thought about it. “All right, can't hurt to look into it once more. I'll see if I have an agent that meets your criteria, and let them run it separately from the California office. Any chance of getting your source to meet with my agent?”
“I'm going to stay out of it. But have your agent contact Stardancer at Lawrence Livermore once she's in place. She can put her into direct touch if she thinks it's a good idea. I'll tell Stardancer to expect it, and you tell your agent to ask about Project Thunderbird. That way I'm not involved at all, I don't know who the investigators are, it avoids a whole set of legal questions, and we can keep it under wraps.”
“Sounds a bit melodramatic, Director. But it does keep you out of the loop. We'll try it.”
“Thanks. I owe you a favor.”
“Only if it turns up negative again. If you're right, I'll owe -you- one. I don't like the idea of something out there that can subvert my best agents.”
“Neither do I. I hope my source is wrong, but I'm afraid he isn't.”
“Like I said, I'll try checking it out. -You- need to talk to the AG and find out what kind of protection you can set up to keep a jury from being mind-controlled into a Not Guilty verdict. I am not going to be happy if the investigation indicates she's been doing this and we can't convict her.”
“I know. I've been worrying about that. I've had to deal with people who have nation-state level abilities, and I do -not- want to bring the only solution I've found so far down to the domestic level.
Lewis thought about that and shuddered. “No, we don't want to start assassinating suspects.”
“So far it's been actual warfare, both times I've done it. It's not a habit I want to get into.”
“Nope. You talk to the AG soonest. Even if we can't do anything this time, we're going to need that capability somewhere along the line. I'll let you know what we find out. Anything else?”
“Not right now. Thanks. Talk to you later.” She hung up the phone and leaned back in her chair, massaging her forehead to ease the incipient headache. “He's right, y'know, John. Rule of Law is going to be difficult with entities who can walk right out of a prison, or who could nap through a jail term. I begin to see why the pantheons always ended up with reputations for capriciousness. Give it a century, and what will they say about dropping a nuke on Quetzalcoatl?”
Guardian shrugged. “He started it. Punishment may have to be execution, but at least you can publish the evidence after the fact.”
She sighed. “That makes me Chooser of the Slain. And I'm pretty sure you disqualified me as a Valkyrie.”
He shook his head. “No. Not a Valkyrie, Thor didn't call you that. He called you Fate.”
“That... is not an improvement.”
He gave her a wicked grin. “Maybe not, but at least it doesn't require you to be a virgin.”
She snorted and shook a finger at him. “Beware, lest you find yourself fated to sleeping on the couch.”
He leaned over and kissed the top of her head. “A fate I shall gladly accept if it makes you feel better, my love.” He sighed. “But your phone is blinking. It looks like Elizabeth is trying to get your attention again already. Back to work?”
She sighed. “Back to work.”
Heather Jackson regarded herself in the mirror of her motel room. Dark eyes with a piercing gaze looked back at her over a silver-gray hooked beak. Her face was flatter than a falcon's would have been, but the dark cheek flashes and rust-gray hood above the white facial feathers matched the features of a prairie falcon, as did the black streaks against the white feathers of her chest. She shook her head and continued getting dressed. She made a point of wearing skirts these days – avian Changelings were rare enough that most people couldn't tell their gender easily unless their type was one that was a common bird - and had an exceptionally flashy difference in plumage between the sexes. <Not...> she thought for the thousandth time <... that I lost that much up front when I changed. If the docs have it right, the bird genes were probably why.> She sighed. <Neither here nor there. In an hour and a half I find out why I got called all the way to DC to speak with the Director.> She finished dressing, choosing a forest-green skirt suit (highly modified to allow for her wings), and headed out to get a bit of breakfast before reporting in.
Official Washington was as crowded as she remembered from her last visit, overstuffed with bureaucrats and tourists, and the FBI headquarters was no exception. She'd chosen a motel near the subway lines so that she would not have to deal with attempting to drive or park on the way to her appointment. There were enough changelings in the crowd that she didn't attract too much attention, and she managed to arrive at her destination with a quarter-hour to spare. The Director's secretary nodded to her as she entered his outer office. “Agent Jackson?”
She nodded. “That's me.”
“The Director should just be finishing up with his nine o'clock. I'll let him know you're here. In the meantime...” She handed over a folder. “He'll want your opinion on this case, and he told me to let you look over the reports while you're waiting.”
<So apparently I'm being given a special case. I'd hoped it was something like that.> She sat down with the folder and started looking through the documents. The names had been redacted, both of individuals and companies, but it seemed to be a standard political corruption situation – she'd seen enough of those in Chicago to be familiar with how they worked and how the evidence was built up. The investigation had proceeded over time, and the trail dwindled away – sometimes even a politician was honest enough to pass muster. The second file in the folder was a similar case, possibly even the same person, and again it had come to nothing in the end in spite of strong indications of guilt in the initial stages. She'd only just started on the third file when the secretary called to her. “Agent Jackson? The Director is ready for you now.” She gathered the folder back together and followed the woman into the inner office.
Director Lewis stood up to greet her when she was ushered in, offering a handshake without flinching at the raptor-clawed hand she offered in return. He nodded to his secretary. “Thank you, Sandra. Hold my calls until we're done unless it's the President or some other national emergency.” She nodded and returned to her desk, leaving them alone. “Please, sit.” Once they were settled, he glanced at the folder she still held. “How much of that did you have a chance to look at?”
“The outlines of cases A and B, sir. Same subject of investigation?”
He nodded, with a half-smile. “Correct. What did you think of them?”
“It seemed odd that the investigations concluded that there was nothing going on. The initial circumstantial evidence was pretty strong.”
“Indeed. I thought so, as well. Case C never went anywhere, the agent never found the initial evidence that the first two did. That was six months ago, and I was prepared to close the case permanently, until I received additional information a week ago.”
“New evidence, sir?”
“Not exactly. Certainly nothing admissible in court. But...” He shook his head. “Perhaps I should say, not -yet- admissible in court. The judiciary is always slow to change and have not figured out how to deal with the techniques that have become possible in the last five years.”
“Since the Event, you mean. Evidence found by magic?”
“Not so much gathered by magic, but identified by a magical entity. I'm sure you've heard all of the rumors about the so-called Immortals?”
She chuckled. “Of course. They're the newest popular conspiracy-nut target. I think they've edged out the chemtrail people and the Roswell crowd for top place in the crazy contest.”
Lewis grinned back at her. “True. But under all the lunacy, there is a kernel of truth. There are some very long-lived people out there, and they know things that the rest of us have forgotten, or at least brushed off as myths – because for the last two thousand years, they were.”
“You're telling me that the Immortals are -real-?!?”
“Oh, the conspiracy theories aren't. But they themselves are. Wei Lung of China, the dragon in Antarctica, Thor up in Massachusetts, a few others. The reason we nuked the Mexican desert after the Obama assassination was to get the Immortal who'd ordered it.”
Jackson shook her head. “My God... the Atlantic nuke-bombing, too?”
“I would assume so. I was never in the loop for that one, and the military's been very cagey about the whole affair.”
She focused on the Director. “You're sending me after one of them, aren't you?”
“No. At least we don't think so.”
“Then why tell me all this? It's apparently up in the burn-before-reading levels of security.”
Lewis chuckled. “Actually, it isn't – it's just too unbelievable for most people to accept, and that includes most of the media community. I gather that NSA has been -encouraging- the wilder rumors to keep it that way for now.”
“Bury the truth under a mountain of bullcrap?”
“Precisely. No, I'm not sending you after an Immortal. But the new evidence was -provided- by one, I understand. He recognized -what- the target is, and why the investigations have all failed. It took a while for that information to reach me – and it came with a recommendation to find someone like you to do the next one.”
She glared. “If this is some Changeling affirmative action thing, you can count me out right now. Sir.”
“Calm down, Ms. Jackson. It's not affirmative action. The target is a Siren. And -you- are the best agent in the Bureau who should be mostly immune to her powers. You are female, a bird, and I understand you have at least some magical talent?”
She nodded. “I can shield against mind-readers. Very useful in undercover work.”
“Which means that the Siren will not be able to... persuade you to give her a clean bill of health.”
She thought about that. “And it also means I won't have much, if any, backup, if most people can be suborned by the suspect.”
“Not from the Bureau, I'm afraid. I'm arranging for some assistance from various agencies, people who, like you, should be immune to her influence. Kind of a grab bag, but better than nothing.”
“Who?”
He handed her a USB stick and an envelope. “I don't know myself. Your contact is on here, along with all the case files to date, unredacted.”
She took the material, and twitched a feathered eyebrow. “Seems like the Mission Impossible music should be playing in the background, sir.”
He smiled. “Well, we're not going to throw you to the wolves if you blow your cover. And I promise, the stick won't self-destruct after you read it.”
“That's good to know. I assume you have a place for me to stay?”
“And an expense account for anything you might need, within reason. Information is all on the stick and your new credit cards and base pass are in the envelope. You have a flight out of Andrews tonight to Sacramento, and you'll be meeting the head of Lawrence Livermore tomorrow afternoon to get things started. She's suggested a bit of magical training might be in order first. In any event, good luck.” He stood up, and shook her hand again.
“Thank you, sir. I'll do my best.”
“Walk with me, Julian.”
Valazquez looked up from his work, astonished. His boss had -never- come to his office before. He was out of his seat before he was finished processing the unusual development. “Of course, Mr. Stavros. What seems to be the problem?”
Stavros led the way to an empty office in the Accounting Department before replying. “I am not sure there is a problem, as such, but it occurs to me that my Scandinavian friend has his own motives, and I am not so sure that they track as well with mine as he claims.”
“That would not surprise me in the least, sir. Among other things, the very fact that the government has a program researching longevity indicates that the Immortals are not averse to sharing their gift. It seems more likely that they were few enough until recently, and that scientific investigation is a recent enough discovery, that they simply were unable to explain it or research it until now. And your friend does seem to have a particular obsession that seems less and less justified as time goes on.”
“That -did- occur to me, in fact. Not that I intend to stop keeping on eye on their work, of course. Once they get close, I may wish to take advantage of their findings without waiting for bureaucrats to do ten years of studies to make sure it doesn't have dangerous side effects. Personally, at my age, dying while waiting for a go-ahead would seem to be the worse choice to almost anything.”
“Even if your body should be changed to something... distasteful?”
The old man's voice was -very- dry. “Trust me, Julian. When your original body is as creaky as mine has become, transforming it as part of a rejuvenation is not an issue of concern. Even being an anteater is far less distasteful than being dead.” He chuckled, uncharacteristically whimsical for a moment. “From all reports, those who are changed are comfortable in their new forms. I'm sure I could arrange for gourmet birch-fed termites if such a thing were to happen... At any rate, I called you over here to talk where we are less likely to be overheard. Anywhere he has been could be bugged, after all.”
“What do you want me to do, sir?”
“More the reverse. He is pushing for another attempt on Thor's compound. If it should so happen that the Thunder God's security forces should be prepared for such an attack, I would not be unhappy. Provided that there is no way either side could trace it back to us, of course.”
“I understand completely, sir. Such an event could also eliminate a few problematical operatives, I suspect.”
“I leave those details to you. I am far more interested in eliminating the problem we had with the last set of elections. Thor is not important in the long run. Making sure elections produce worthwhile results -is-.”
Valazquez smiled. “I will certainly keep that in mind as well, sir. Anything else?”
“I think that's everything for now. Just wanted to make sure you knew I don't actually -trust- the Trickster.”
“I certainly didn't think you were that foolish, sir.”
“Then let's head back upstairs. It's almost time for your regular daily report, after all.”
“Just let me get today's folder, sir.”
Sterling peered out into the desert night, frowning at the activity on the usually empty roads below. “Looks like we'll need to bring a gunship the next time, Colonel. The ISIL forces are finally on the move.”
“Can we make tonight's delivery safely?”
“We'll shift a bit to the east, but I think so. They're camped out northwest of al-Suwar. Tomorrow or the day after, we find out if we've been arming friends or enemies.”
“Cynical, much?”
The bat chuckled. “Been doing my research, Colonel. And remember, I have an in with the folks generating the intel. There's been a strain in the local power structure since I helped evac a few folks out of there.”
“The three day hiatus?”
“Yep. Brought an Osprey in to bring 'em out.” <Not going to mention the nukes.> “But in the aftermath of that, the local military commander and the supposedly-in-charge cleric haven't been seeing eye-to-eye. The military guy is leaning our way, the cleric not so much. And then there's the individuals jockeying for higher positions on both the pro-ISIL and anti-ISIL sides. These guys could give Game of Thrones a run for their money on convoluted six-way civil wars.”
“Glad it's not my job to figure out that sort of thing, Captain.”
“You and me both. And we're coming up on the drop zone. Your plane, Colonel.”
“Pilot has the plane.”
“Director Lowe, this is more our bailiwick than yours. I've already had this Computers in Education thing checked out. I'll admit it's stupid, but we haven't turned up anything that's actually criminal.”
Lowe suppressed a sigh as she talked to her domestic opposite number. “I'm not trying to disparage the FBI, Director Lewis. And I'm honestly not trying to tell you how to run your organization. But I've turned up some information that indicates that your investigations might have been corrupted. Costanzis is capable of a form of mind control. Humor me, and re-open the investigation using a female agent, preferably a Changeling bird or reptile if you have one available. If they have magic talent, that's even better. But keep it away from anyone who's already checked, they may not be entirely their own people any more.”
“And you won't tell me how you know this.”
“Confidential source. But one that I trust.”
“And why is this confidential source operating in the United States? You don't have a mandate for that except for counter-espionage and counter-terrorism.”
Lowe sighed out loud this time. “He doesn't work for me. He's on another project entirely, but he's also a friend of a friend, kind of thing. It's information that needs to be acted on, and I -don't- want to step on your toes. If you won't, though, I'll have to. It's too dangerous to leave her where she is.”
“That sounds like you're threatening to operate illegally if I don't do what you tell me, Lowe.”
“Hardly illegally. I can justify it as counter-terrorism if I need to. But frankly, your people can do a better job of it as long as you can keep them from being controlled. NSA isn't really equipped to collect evidence for trials.”
Lewis chuckled at that point. “So if she's a mind-controller, how are you going to -put- her on trial?”
There was a long pause. “Right. Hermetically sealed chamber and a voice scrambler? Could we make that work, legally?”
“Don't ask me, I just catch 'em and gather the evidence. Ask the Attorney General.” He thought about it. “All right, can't hurt to look into it once more. I'll see if I have an agent that meets your criteria, and let them run it separately from the California office. Any chance of getting your source to meet with my agent?”
“I'm going to stay out of it. But have your agent contact Stardancer at Lawrence Livermore once she's in place. She can put her into direct touch if she thinks it's a good idea. I'll tell Stardancer to expect it, and you tell your agent to ask about Project Thunderbird. That way I'm not involved at all, I don't know who the investigators are, it avoids a whole set of legal questions, and we can keep it under wraps.”
“Sounds a bit melodramatic, Director. But it does keep you out of the loop. We'll try it.”
“Thanks. I owe you a favor.”
“Only if it turns up negative again. If you're right, I'll owe -you- one. I don't like the idea of something out there that can subvert my best agents.”
“Neither do I. I hope my source is wrong, but I'm afraid he isn't.”
“Like I said, I'll try checking it out. -You- need to talk to the AG and find out what kind of protection you can set up to keep a jury from being mind-controlled into a Not Guilty verdict. I am not going to be happy if the investigation indicates she's been doing this and we can't convict her.”
“I know. I've been worrying about that. I've had to deal with people who have nation-state level abilities, and I do -not- want to bring the only solution I've found so far down to the domestic level.
Lewis thought about that and shuddered. “No, we don't want to start assassinating suspects.”
“So far it's been actual warfare, both times I've done it. It's not a habit I want to get into.”
“Nope. You talk to the AG soonest. Even if we can't do anything this time, we're going to need that capability somewhere along the line. I'll let you know what we find out. Anything else?”
“Not right now. Thanks. Talk to you later.” She hung up the phone and leaned back in her chair, massaging her forehead to ease the incipient headache. “He's right, y'know, John. Rule of Law is going to be difficult with entities who can walk right out of a prison, or who could nap through a jail term. I begin to see why the pantheons always ended up with reputations for capriciousness. Give it a century, and what will they say about dropping a nuke on Quetzalcoatl?”
Guardian shrugged. “He started it. Punishment may have to be execution, but at least you can publish the evidence after the fact.”
She sighed. “That makes me Chooser of the Slain. And I'm pretty sure you disqualified me as a Valkyrie.”
He shook his head. “No. Not a Valkyrie, Thor didn't call you that. He called you Fate.”
“That... is not an improvement.”
He gave her a wicked grin. “Maybe not, but at least it doesn't require you to be a virgin.”
She snorted and shook a finger at him. “Beware, lest you find yourself fated to sleeping on the couch.”
He leaned over and kissed the top of her head. “A fate I shall gladly accept if it makes you feel better, my love.” He sighed. “But your phone is blinking. It looks like Elizabeth is trying to get your attention again already. Back to work?”
She sighed. “Back to work.”
Heather Jackson regarded herself in the mirror of her motel room. Dark eyes with a piercing gaze looked back at her over a silver-gray hooked beak. Her face was flatter than a falcon's would have been, but the dark cheek flashes and rust-gray hood above the white facial feathers matched the features of a prairie falcon, as did the black streaks against the white feathers of her chest. She shook her head and continued getting dressed. She made a point of wearing skirts these days – avian Changelings were rare enough that most people couldn't tell their gender easily unless their type was one that was a common bird - and had an exceptionally flashy difference in plumage between the sexes. <Not...> she thought for the thousandth time <... that I lost that much up front when I changed. If the docs have it right, the bird genes were probably why.> She sighed. <Neither here nor there. In an hour and a half I find out why I got called all the way to DC to speak with the Director.> She finished dressing, choosing a forest-green skirt suit (highly modified to allow for her wings), and headed out to get a bit of breakfast before reporting in.
Official Washington was as crowded as she remembered from her last visit, overstuffed with bureaucrats and tourists, and the FBI headquarters was no exception. She'd chosen a motel near the subway lines so that she would not have to deal with attempting to drive or park on the way to her appointment. There were enough changelings in the crowd that she didn't attract too much attention, and she managed to arrive at her destination with a quarter-hour to spare. The Director's secretary nodded to her as she entered his outer office. “Agent Jackson?”
She nodded. “That's me.”
“The Director should just be finishing up with his nine o'clock. I'll let him know you're here. In the meantime...” She handed over a folder. “He'll want your opinion on this case, and he told me to let you look over the reports while you're waiting.”
<So apparently I'm being given a special case. I'd hoped it was something like that.> She sat down with the folder and started looking through the documents. The names had been redacted, both of individuals and companies, but it seemed to be a standard political corruption situation – she'd seen enough of those in Chicago to be familiar with how they worked and how the evidence was built up. The investigation had proceeded over time, and the trail dwindled away – sometimes even a politician was honest enough to pass muster. The second file in the folder was a similar case, possibly even the same person, and again it had come to nothing in the end in spite of strong indications of guilt in the initial stages. She'd only just started on the third file when the secretary called to her. “Agent Jackson? The Director is ready for you now.” She gathered the folder back together and followed the woman into the inner office.
Director Lewis stood up to greet her when she was ushered in, offering a handshake without flinching at the raptor-clawed hand she offered in return. He nodded to his secretary. “Thank you, Sandra. Hold my calls until we're done unless it's the President or some other national emergency.” She nodded and returned to her desk, leaving them alone. “Please, sit.” Once they were settled, he glanced at the folder she still held. “How much of that did you have a chance to look at?”
“The outlines of cases A and B, sir. Same subject of investigation?”
He nodded, with a half-smile. “Correct. What did you think of them?”
“It seemed odd that the investigations concluded that there was nothing going on. The initial circumstantial evidence was pretty strong.”
“Indeed. I thought so, as well. Case C never went anywhere, the agent never found the initial evidence that the first two did. That was six months ago, and I was prepared to close the case permanently, until I received additional information a week ago.”
“New evidence, sir?”
“Not exactly. Certainly nothing admissible in court. But...” He shook his head. “Perhaps I should say, not -yet- admissible in court. The judiciary is always slow to change and have not figured out how to deal with the techniques that have become possible in the last five years.”
“Since the Event, you mean. Evidence found by magic?”
“Not so much gathered by magic, but identified by a magical entity. I'm sure you've heard all of the rumors about the so-called Immortals?”
She chuckled. “Of course. They're the newest popular conspiracy-nut target. I think they've edged out the chemtrail people and the Roswell crowd for top place in the crazy contest.”
Lewis grinned back at her. “True. But under all the lunacy, there is a kernel of truth. There are some very long-lived people out there, and they know things that the rest of us have forgotten, or at least brushed off as myths – because for the last two thousand years, they were.”
“You're telling me that the Immortals are -real-?!?”
“Oh, the conspiracy theories aren't. But they themselves are. Wei Lung of China, the dragon in Antarctica, Thor up in Massachusetts, a few others. The reason we nuked the Mexican desert after the Obama assassination was to get the Immortal who'd ordered it.”
Jackson shook her head. “My God... the Atlantic nuke-bombing, too?”
“I would assume so. I was never in the loop for that one, and the military's been very cagey about the whole affair.”
She focused on the Director. “You're sending me after one of them, aren't you?”
“No. At least we don't think so.”
“Then why tell me all this? It's apparently up in the burn-before-reading levels of security.”
Lewis chuckled. “Actually, it isn't – it's just too unbelievable for most people to accept, and that includes most of the media community. I gather that NSA has been -encouraging- the wilder rumors to keep it that way for now.”
“Bury the truth under a mountain of bullcrap?”
“Precisely. No, I'm not sending you after an Immortal. But the new evidence was -provided- by one, I understand. He recognized -what- the target is, and why the investigations have all failed. It took a while for that information to reach me – and it came with a recommendation to find someone like you to do the next one.”
She glared. “If this is some Changeling affirmative action thing, you can count me out right now. Sir.”
“Calm down, Ms. Jackson. It's not affirmative action. The target is a Siren. And -you- are the best agent in the Bureau who should be mostly immune to her powers. You are female, a bird, and I understand you have at least some magical talent?”
She nodded. “I can shield against mind-readers. Very useful in undercover work.”
“Which means that the Siren will not be able to... persuade you to give her a clean bill of health.”
She thought about that. “And it also means I won't have much, if any, backup, if most people can be suborned by the suspect.”
“Not from the Bureau, I'm afraid. I'm arranging for some assistance from various agencies, people who, like you, should be immune to her influence. Kind of a grab bag, but better than nothing.”
“Who?”
He handed her a USB stick and an envelope. “I don't know myself. Your contact is on here, along with all the case files to date, unredacted.”
She took the material, and twitched a feathered eyebrow. “Seems like the Mission Impossible music should be playing in the background, sir.”
He smiled. “Well, we're not going to throw you to the wolves if you blow your cover. And I promise, the stick won't self-destruct after you read it.”
“That's good to know. I assume you have a place for me to stay?”
“And an expense account for anything you might need, within reason. Information is all on the stick and your new credit cards and base pass are in the envelope. You have a flight out of Andrews tonight to Sacramento, and you'll be meeting the head of Lawrence Livermore tomorrow afternoon to get things started. She's suggested a bit of magical training might be in order first. In any event, good luck.” He stood up, and shook her hand again.
“Thank you, sir. I'll do my best.”
Category Story / All
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