The Jewels of Cyttorak Page 10

  Robert had learned to fly helicopters back a few years before, but didn’t want to even try taking one into those mountains alone unless he had to—particularly with his hands much larger than they were.

  “Sure am,” the guy said. “What can I do for you?”

  “I’m willing to pay twenty thousand dollars up front in exchange for four hours of helicopter time and a pilot.”

  “Twenty thousand?” Craig said, the look of surprise clear in his eyes. “You could almost buy one for that price. What do you need it for? Not that I’m saying no, mind you,” he added quickly. “Just wondering. Have to make sure it’s legal.”

  “Oh, it’s legal all right. An emergency trip into the central mountains, above the small town of Yellow Pine,” Robert lied. “Your helicopters have that kind of range?” Graig shrugged. “No problem at all, even with someone of your size on board. But that’s rugged country up there.”

  “I’m aware of that,” Robert said. “I’m looking for a man who’s in there. I’ve got a way of tracking his location, but it’s not exact. More directional in nature.” “So we do a little back and forth is all,” the old guy said, nodding to himself.

  “Exactly,” Robert said. “So how long can you stay aloft up in that area before having to return to refuel?’ ’ “Three-plus hours, safely, at that altitude.”

  Robert nodded and pulled out his wallet. “I need to leave right now. Is that also possible?’ ’

  Craig started to say something, then noticed the wad of cash that Robert took out of his money clip. ‘ ‘Mister, for twenty thousand in cash, we could have left ten minutes ago. Let me just run this through, wash my hands, cancel another appointment, and I’ll be ready. The big bird on the right out there is gassed and ready to go. Give me five minutes.”

  “Thank you, Craig,” Robert said, smiling his best smile at the older man.

  In the back of his mind Robert could tell the red creature was closing in from the east, getting closer and closer. But it felt as if five minutes would be soon enough to get ahead of whatever was coming.

  He turned and headed for the helicopter. Maybe after getting the next part of the emerald, it wouldn’t matter if the red creature caught up with him. Only time would tell.

  Cain had crammed his huge frame into the back of the Blackbird. He’d broken one arm off one chair in the back as he sat, but otherwise, so far, there had been no serious damage to the plane.

  Then, for the next three hours, as the jet sped west, Cain hadn’t said a word. He simply sat hunched over, staring into the night ahead.

  Jean and Scott bad also remained outwardly quiet. But using Jean’s telepathic powers they had “talked” and planned most of the trip, running through any possible plan of action they could think of. In the end they came back to the exact point where they started. They had no idea why Robert Service had been flying in circles in Idaho. And they could only guess at the outcome when Cain caught up to him.

  The sun was lighting the sky around them as they crossed over the Teton Mountains and into eastern Idaho. They were within two hundred miles of Boise, approaching the Snake River valley when suddenly things changed slightly.

  “Blackbird.” Ororo’s voice cut through the silence of the cabin from the radio link.

  Scott flipped a switch to turn his headset to the private channel, then with a glance at Jean said, “Go ahead, Storm.”

  “Cyclops, we just got confirmation from the Boise airport that Service’s plane has taken off, headed west. He filed a flight plan for Portland.”

  “Understood,” Scott said.

  He flipped the communication system back to airport approach and then glanced around at Cain hunched over behind him.

  Cain said nothing, his dark eyes still focused ahead.

  Scott shrugged and turned back forward. Guess we ’re going on to Portland, he said to Jean telepathically through the rapport that husband and wife shared.

  Guess we are, Jean replied.

  One thing’s for certain, we’re getting to see some country we'd normally never see.

  Almost feels like a vacation, Jean said with a telepathic laugh.

  Almost, Scott said. Almost.

  Wingate Toole stood behind his desk and watched as two of the deadliest humans alive walked into his office.

  Kyle, who had been holding the door for them, stepped back, and his already pale face drained even more.

  Toole nodded to the man who had a cloth mask over his face and a painted diamond over one eye-slit. He wore the traditional garb of the Assassins Guild and carried a

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  large, gleaming sword that looked sharp enough to cut through steel.

  Beside him strode one of the most beautiful and striking women Toole had ever seen. She stood at least six foot tall and wore a black bodysuit with blue armor-like scales on her arms and legs. The scales moved with her rippling muscles like a second skin and the effect was very attractive. A long cape was attached at her shoulders and flowed down behind her as she walked. Her blonde hair was pulled back and cascaded out over the cape.

  Her name was Bella Donna and she was the head of the Assassins Guild.

  Toole also had no doubt at all that at a moment’s whim, she could kill him without a struggle.

  He also knew she wouldn’t. At least not yet. After she had heard what he had to say, he hoped she would never kill him. Only work with him.

  And protect him from what was coming.

  Toole indicated that Bella take the seat in front of his desk, but she shook her head and remained standing. The other assassin took a position to her right and slightly behind her where he could keep any eye on both Toole and Kyle.

  Toole shrugged and dropped down into his chair, leaning back to look at her. ‘ ‘Thank you for accepting my invitation,” Toole said, putting on his best smile.

  “The messenger said you have a business proposition,” she said. “I will listen.”

  Toole nodded. “Fair enough,” he said. It was the most he had hoped for.

  “As I know you are aware,” Toole said, “over the

  past few years I’ve slowly taken over more and more of, shall we say, the business of our fine city.”

  Bella said nothing, only stared at him, her dark brown eyes boring into him like drills.

  ‘ ‘The old days of a balance between the mob and the two guilds are almost finished. If I can move in, as I have done, someone else would shortly do the same if I am eliminated.”

  Bella again said nothing, made no motion. She only stared at him, obviously trying to make him nervous. And it was succeeding admirably.

  ‘ ‘I propose a partnership of sorts between the Assassins Guild and my organization.”

  “And what would my people get from such a partnership?” Bella asked.

  Toole smiled at her. She had almost spit out the word partnership.

  “You would get the elimination of the Thieves Guild, and control of the entire city. Is there more that you would

  expect?”

  Suddenly, for the first time Bella looked slightly interested. One eyebrow raised just a fraction. If she had been a poker player, that would have been a deadly “tell.”

  “Look, Bella,” Toole said, leaning forward and keeping both hands in plain sight on top of his desk. “I’m a businessman. I know business and how to make money and control this city with that money, from underneath and behind the scenes. I’ve proven that clearly to you and others over the past six months.”

  “Go on,” Bella said.

  “But I’m no good at the protection side. I’ve got a hundred men surrounding our position at this moment and I’m sure you and ten of your assassins could fight your way in here without the slightest problem.”

  “You are correct,” Bella said.

  “So,” Toole said, giving her the palms-up gesture. “To stay alive, I need you. And to solidify control of the city, you need me and my organization.”

  “Assuming I agree with your assessmen
t of the situation in this city, how do you see such a partnership working?” Again she almost spit out the word partnership.

  Toole laughed. “I suppose partnership might have been the wrong term to use. You would be the leader, I would be your first lieutenant.”

  Again her eyebrow raised slightly and Toole knew he had her. So he pushed forward. “You run the city and protect me and my people while I do the finances. Within a very short time the mob and the Thieves Guild will only be a memory.”

  “And you will follow my orders?” Bella asked. “My interest is business and money,” Toole said, smiling at her while holding her stare. “As long as you protect me and my people, I’ll follow you to the ends of the universe. And make you even more powerful at the same time.”

  Again her eyebrow raised slightly and Toole wondered if she knew she had such a clear giveaway of her emotions and thoughts. He doubted it.

  She leaned forward, both hands on his desk. Her blonde hair fell over her right shoulder and he could feel the sheer power of her presence. ‘ ‘What exactly are you afraid of, Toole?”

  He kept his gaze locked on hers. Then he sighed and shook his head. There was no point in lying to her. If what he proposed was going to work, she needed to know.

  He took a deep breath and stood.

  She also stood up straight facing him across the polished oak of his desk.

  “Something is coming after me,” Toole said. “I have no way of knowing what, or even who it is. But I know.” He tapped the side of his head.

  “And this knowing has you scared?” Bella asked. “Scared enough to give up control of your organization to me?”

  Toole nodded. “Alive and second in command of the most powerful crime organization in the South is better than being dead.” He laughed. “Actually it’s better by a considerable distance.”

  For the first time since the most dangerous woman in the Big Easy had come though his door she smiled. “Mr. Toole, your organization and courage have impressed me for the last year. I will give your proposal some thought.”

  She offered her hand and he reached forward and took it. Her skin was firm and her grasp hard as iron. He returned her handshake, never taking his gaze from her eyes.

  “I will leave a dozen of my people around your office, if you would like?” she said.

  “That would be appreciated,” Toole said.

  “I will return this evening,” she said.

  Without another word she spun and started for the door. Kyle managed to get it open before she got there, and she and her guard went through without so much as a squeak of the floorboards.

  Toole let out a deep breath. “Kyle, make sure our people know they will be joined by some professional help.”

  “Yes, sir,” Kyle said.

  As the door closed behind Kyle, Toole dropped into his chair with a giant sigh. Then slowly, softly, he started laughing to himself.

  So far, so good.

  Over Toole’s desk, Remy lay perfectly still, his ear pressed lightly against a small opening in the ceiling tile. He had managed to hear every word of the conversation between Bella Donna and Toole. And it had shocked him.

  The Assassins Guild, to his knowledge, had never made a pact with anyone. And had no interest in controlling the business side of the crime world. Yet it was clear that Bella had liked Toole’s suggestions.

  If she took the alliance with Toole, there would be no doubt that the Thieves Guild would be in danger. The entire balance of power in New Orleans would vanish like steam above the Bananas Foster served in the Three Sisters Restaurant on Bourbon.

  He listened as Toole laughed softly to himself. Clearly the man didn’t need a lecture on the old ways of New Orleans. He knew them and was playing them against each other.

  So what was Remy going to do now? His idea of dropping in on Toole for a lesson seemed pointless at the moment. He could drop down, take the guy out, and make his escape. But Toole was right. Someone else would quickly take Toole’s place.

  Toole stopped laughing to himself and stood. Remy moved slightly so that he could see down through a small crack down into the office.

  Toole moved out from behind his desk, locked the door with a dead bolt, then went to the ornate bar. Quickly he picked up and set down six different bottles in succession.

  There was a small click.

  Right below Remy a panel opened on the front of Toole’s desk.

  Toole picked up and sat down three more bottles, then moved over to the open panel and knelt.

  Remy could see Toole twisting what must have been the tumbler of a safe, then pulled it open. Toole reached into the open safe and pulled out a pouch of some sort, tied with a drawstring.

  Toole opened the pouch and slid a large emerald out onto his palm.

  Remy could hear Toole’s sigh all the way through the ceiling.

  “Okay,” Toole said, his voice solid and fairly loud. “Come and try to take this now.”

  Toole held the emerald out in front of him for a moment, then slipped it back in the bag, put the bag back in the safe, and closed the panel door.

  Remy just shook his head as Toole went back to the bar and reversed his combination of bottles, then headed for the door to his office. A moment later he disappeared from Remy’s view out the door.

  What in the world was that about? Remy thought as he slowly sat up in the crawlspace.

  For the entire flight west Cain had sat silently, hunched over, staring out the front window of the X-Men’s plane. He hated these wimpy, do-gooders run by his stepbrother. He was so used to fighting with them, that he almost considered lashing out at them right now.

  But he didn’t. Once before, they needed his help against Magneto, and he gave it because Cain didn’t want to live in a world run by the so-called master of magnetism. This time, much as Cain hated to admit it, he needed their help.

  From what he could tell by the pain in his chest, they had been right about where he had been heading. As the night wore on, it became very clear to him that he was still going in the right direction.

  If it really was this Robert Service person who was causing his pain, he felt almost sorry for the guy. He was going to be nothing more than a smear on the sidewalk by the time Cain got through with him. And if there was another stone from the temple, Cain was going to own it, just so no one else would ever cause him this kind of pain again.

  “Boise, Idaho,” Summers said, pointing down at the city below and to the left of the plane. “Where Service spent the last part of the night.”

  Cain said nothing. He’d been thankful that Summers and his good-looking wife hadn’t talked all night long. With the pain in his chest making him feel trapped, the

  addition of stupid small-talk from the couple would have made it impossible to keep from tearing their plane apart in midair. Then he would have been back to walking. Not that he minded walking, but this way there was a chance he’d get this pain in his chest stopped sooner, rather than later.

  It just galled him that it was his stepbrother’s little people that gave him the help. That he needed their help.

  Suddenly the pain in his chest shifted. One moment it had been steady, then suddenly it was like someone was slicing a knife through his nerves.

  He leaned slightly forward and stared out the window. Boise was behind them now. The source of his pain wasn’t on the plane to Portland, that much was suddenly clear.

  “Turn right,” he said.

  Summers glanced back at Cain, his visor giving the effect of being looked at with just one big eye. “What—?”

  “Right,” Cain said again, his voice a low growl.

  Summers shrugged. A moment later the plane banked slowly right toward the south.

  Now the pain got even worse.

  “Other direction,” Cain said.

  Summers banked the jet back to the left, eventually heading north toward the mountains.

  The pain eased back to where it had been all night.

  Cain s
aid nothing as both Summers and Grey glanced back at him.

  After a moment Summers shrugged again and looked at Grey. “Guess we’re headed north for a while.”

  “Guess so,” she said.

  Cain said nothing. There was nothing he needed to say to the idiots. As soon as he found what was causing his pain, he wouldn’t need them anymore. And that wouldn’t be a moment too soon, as far as he was concerned.

  Finding the right valley in all the hundred of valleys had been surprisingly easy in a helicopter. Robert had kept the emerald tightly gripped in his hand and the moment the helicopter got slightly off course, he turned it back in the right direction. Craig, the pilot, had asked no questions as to how Robert knew when to turn, and in which direction. One of the advantages of overpaying for a service was that it always guaranteed a great deal of cooperation and very few questions.

  And Craig was just about willing to do anything.

  The helicopter flew over a low saddle and dropped down into the tree-filled valley below, skimming a few hundred feet over the pines as he went down. Above them the rocky tops of the mountains towered, littered with drifts of white snow even though it was the middle of the summer.

  During the first ten minutes in the mountains, Craig’s proximity to the trees had worried Robert, but then he’d settled into the movement of it and now understood it. There was no point in going any higher.

  Robert pointed to the left over Craig’s shoulder and Craig swung the helicopter in that direction, heading down the river that wound its way through the bottom of this narrow valley. Inside his head, Robert felt the feeling

  of correctness. This direction was right on the money.

  And he was close.

  Below them a clearing and a log cabin suddenly appeared, then disappeared behind them as Craig banked the helicopter to the left slightly to follow the river.

  Instantly, the feeling inside Robert’s head switched from right to completely wrong.

  “That log cabin was it,” he shouted to Craig. “Put the chopper down there.” He pointed to a clearing a half mile down the canyon from the cabin. He’d go back to the cabin alone from there. No doubt the person who owned part of the emerald knew he was coming. And was going to protect the gem if he could.