The Jewels of Cyttorak Read online

  The heat of the day still smothered the streets of the Quarter and the smells of human sweat mixed with smoke and open-air cooking. The restaurants all over the Quarter were filled to capacity with customers and the wonderful aroma of Cajun cooking drifted in and out of the shadows like a phantom, grabbing hungry' people in a seductive, addictive embrace.

  Remy LeBeau paid no attention to the crowds or the wonderful smells filling the tight sidewalks and spilling out into the narrow streets. He stood silently, tucked back in the shadow of a deep doorway, watching the street where the night before his “ghost” friend had appeared.

  A ghost with a laugh like a barking dog.

  Down the block tourists laughed and walked through Jackson Park, their very numbers protecting them from the dangers that would lurk there later in the night. The private club called the Bijou let people in and out with amazing regularity. Some Remy recognized, most he

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  didn’t. They all seemed happy with their evening.

  And no one saw him, as he wanted it to be.

  Remy didn’t even want his “ghost” to see him.

  Remy knew there had been no ghost. Sure, the guy had disappeared right under his fingers, but that trick could be pulled a dozen ways. In his time with the X-Men he had seen a lot stranger things than that.

  No, the guy who did his disappearing trick had a reason to do it beyond trying to scare a tourist or two. And Remy figured it was worth a few hours of his time to figure out that reason if he could.

  Later, after the city quieted down, he’d pay a visit to Mr. Toole’s headquarters. But for the party hours of the evening, he was just going to stand in the shadows and watch and wait for a ghost.

  X-Men?

  Professor Xavier’s clear call formed in Jean Grey’s mind like a voice beamed directly into the center of her mind.

  At the moment, she, Scott, and Hank were drifting about a thousand feet above the Juggernaut, sitting comfortably in the Blackbird, as the behemoth pounded through the night toward the west. Rogue was about twenty miles ahead of Cain, making sure his path wouldn’t take him into a heavily inhabited area.

  So far, Juggernaut hadn’t actually harmed anyone, and the Professor had told them not to engage him in battle—which was just as well, as even at their best, the Juggernaut had always been a difficult opponent to defeat.

  Yes, Professor, Scott said telepathically, speaking for all three of them.

  / need the three of you to leave Rogue to watch over the Juggernaut. I’m sending out Storm, Wolverine, and Bishop to help her. I need you three to make a . . . house call.

  The location of an estate flashed clearly in Jean’s mind, along with the name Gary Service. She was surprised to see it was about twenty miles from where Cain had turned around so suddenly earlier in the day.

  That’s correct. The Professor’s thoughts formed in her head as if he were sitting next to her talking. I think it was Cain’s destination. A man by the name of Gary Sendee will meet you when you land.

  What’s this about?

  I would rather he told you, the Professor responded. 1 want your reactions to it. Tell him I did not relay his story and he must tell you about his brother.

  Understood.

  The Professor relayed the cover story he had devised to protect his own connection to the X-Men, then added, Report to me as soon as you are finished.

  Then the feeling of emptiness in her head indicated the Professor was gone.

  Scott said, “All right then, let’s get to work.”

  The weather in Boise, Idaho was one of those almost-imaginary, perfect summer evenings. A slight breeze cooled the air to room temperature, and the stars filled the sky overhead, breaking through even the city lights. The faint smell of warm sage from the nearby desert mixed with the rich aroma of fireshly mowed lawns. Hundreds of back-door barbecues sizzled around the small city, sending white puffs of smoke swirling upward into the clear night sky.

  The door of Robert Service’s private jet let in the wonderful smells and the clean, fresh, mountain air. The jet sat off to one side of the Gowen Field Airport runway. Private jets were common at Gowen Field, due to the number of large corporations headquartered in Boise. So tonight, one more jet attracted no attention at all.

  Robert Service had remained inside as the plane was fueled. He figured there was no point in getting the locals talking about his huge size. And besides, getting in and

  out of the door of the plane was no easy task.

  After the plane was fueled, checked, and ready to go, he sent the pilot and copilot on separate missions into the small city.

  The pilot was to get them all dinner. For the first time since Robert had touched the gem, he was slightly hungry. He wasn’t sure what being hungry, or not being hungry for that matter, meant in his new form, but he figured there was no point in fighting it.

  The copilot was on a much more important mission. He was to find detailed maps of the entire area north of their location, including, if he could, up into Canada. And the more detailed the map the better.

  Before leaving New York, Robert had wondered how he was going to pinpoint the exact location of the part of the emerald he was looking for. He could sense that the stone was west, but west was a very big place when it came to such a small stone.

  But then when he awoke when the plane was over Reno and realized he could feel the stone to the north, his solution was suddenly clear.

  They would simply fly an ever tightening circle, using the feeling in his head for the direction of the gem, to close in on the location. First they would fly north from Boise, heading toward Spokane, going until it felt as if the gem was south. He’d draw a line on the map at that point, then have the plane turn west until it felt as if the gem was again behind him again.

  Another line, then back south until the gem felt north. And so on, always tightening in on the location. It might take them some time, but it would work. He knew that without a doubt.

  One hour later, map on his lap as his huge bulk filled the couch in the private plane, Robert Service’s jet lifted off into the perfect Idaho summer night and turned north.

  One hundred and sixty miles later, Robert knew the gem was now behind them.

  He drew his first line on his map and laughed.

  Rogue stood, hands on hips, facing the newly arriving X-Men. Around her the rolling hills of Pennsylvania were dotted with the lights of farms and homes. Under her feet, the freshly plowed earth of the open field filled the air with the thick smell of dirt. To the south of her the sky was bright with the lights of Scranton. Otherwise the night was so dark that over her head the stars formed a blanket of white, as if the sky had been dusted with powered sugar. A beautiful evening and one that she had been enjoying so far, despite the menace of the Juggernaut.

  As Storm, Wolverine, and Bishop approached, her thoughts turned to Remy on his “personal business” down in New Orleans. She wished he had let her go with him—or, better still, that he hadn’t gone at all. But he had insisted on going alone. Remy was such a loner, especially when it came to anything to do with his hometown, that it annoyed her at times. But still, if they got this problem with ol’ Juggy settled, she just might head down south to see if he needed a hand. It would be easier than worrying about him so much.

  Rogue forced her mind off of Remy and back on the approaching X-Men. Ororo Munroe—called Storm because she had the ability to harness the power of nature to do as she bid—was walking slightly ahead of the other two across the open field. Her bright white hair seemed to shine with a light all its own under the stars. Rogue was struck by how much Ororo looked at home on such a beautiful summer evening. It felt to Rogue that Storm, if she truly wanted, might even be able to move the stars around in the sky.

  To Storm’s right was Bishop, the X-Man from the future. He walked with a military stride, never looking anywhere but straight ahead. To Storm’s left, walking more like an animal of the night than a human, was Logan, otherwis
e known as Wolverine. Logan’s muscular body was covered with coarse, dark hair. He was the X-Men’s fiercest fighter and loved to mix it up with the Juggernaut. He had unbreakable bones and claws—made out of adamantium—and super-fast healing. He also took no guff from anyone.

  Storm nodded to Rogue and then Hank as the five formed a loose circle in open field.

  “Status?” Storm asked.

  “Scott, Jean an’ Hank just took off about five minutes ago in the Blackbird. Juggy’s about five miles from this position and heading back for Ohio on the same path he used to get here.”

  “Good,” Storm said. “The Professor wants us to continue to keep an eye on him, and make sure he doesn’t actually harm anyone. Otherwise, until we discover what’s happening, we leave him alone. Just watch him.”

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  “Y’mean baby-sit,” Logan said, the disgust at their assignment clear in his voice.

  “It is not our place to question orders,” Bishop said. Logan glared at the tall, straight-backed X-Men in his blue and yellow suit. “Bub, I question what I want. And right now I say we just stop the big guy right where he is.”

  Bishop said nothing, only returned the stare.

  “We do as the Professor asked,” Storm said. “Our mission is to safeguard lives in Juggernaut’s path. Far more important, don’t you think, than baby-sitting?” Logan only snorted.

  “We make no move to stop the Juggernaut until we have more information,” Storm said, glancing at each, then again looking at Logan directly. ‘ ‘Those are the Professor’s instructions and we follow them.”

  “Will do,” Rogue said. She had always been impressed how well Storm handled the group. It was no wonder that the Professor had made her team leader when Cyclops left the team for a time, and kept her on as coleader after he returned.

  “Oh, boy,” Rogue said, smiling. She offered her right arm to Logan. “A night under the stars with two men. What more can a woman want?”

  “Kid,” Logan said, moving over beside her, “if you don’t know, I sure ain’t tellin’ ya.”

  She laughed, and a moment later she lifted him off the ground, turned, and headed west, passing over the Juggernaut a moment later.

  On her arm she could feel Logan tighten up. It was clear he so much wanted to just get down and fight him.

  If the feeling in her stomach was right, Logan was going to have more than enough fight on his hands before this was all over.

  As Scott, Jean, and Hank climbed down out of the Blackbird near the edge of the private runway on the Service estate, a figure emerged from the shadows and moved toward them. Scott glanced over at Jean. “That’s him. You getting anything in particular from him?” His voice was low enough that the approaching figure couldn’t hear.

  Jean shrugged. ‘ ‘I can feel a level of nervousness, but no threat.”

  Scott nodded and studied the approaching man. He seemed to be in his early thirties, with brown hair and a sloped-shoulder walk. He looked to be about five-nine, and most likely hadn’t worked out a day in his life. Scott figured he would look more at home with large, thick glasses and a pocket protector full of pens. But he wore an expensive sports coat and high-priced tennis shoes.

  As he neared, he smiled. “I’m Gary Service.”

  Scott noted his voice sounded nervous as Jean had said.

  Hank took the lead. “I’m the Beast, but my friends call me Hank. These are two of my associates, Cyclops and Phoenix.”

  Gary Service reached out and shook all three of their hands. “Nice meeting you.”

  His handshake, Scott noticed, was adequate, but not very firm, the man’s gaze darted back and forth among them.

  ‘ ‘What did Dr. Xavier tell you?’ ’ Service asked.

  “Nothing,” Hank said, “except that we were to ask you about your brother.”

  Service nodded. “Let’s go to my office. I’ve warned my father that he would have visitors, but I want to tell you what I saw before I subject you to a talk with him.”

  Scott gave Jean a puzzled look, then said, “As you wish.”

  Without another word, Service turned and led the three X-Men down a concrete path through an ornately decorated garden. Lights, like small mushrooms sprouting in the plants, kept both the path and the garden illuminated like a pathway at Disneyland. Scott found it both attractive, and odd for a New York estate.

  The mansion was a large, white, three-story building that dominated the area in the middle of manicured lawns, also illuminated by little mushroom lights. Service led them in a back door, through a big kitchen filled with copper pots and pans, then down a hall and into a large office.

  He closed the door behind them and moved around behind a cluttered desk, indicating three leather chairs in front of the desk for them to sit. .

  Scott studied the room, filled with books and magazines. Mostly financial, a few science. A large computer dominated one corner of the big desk and there was no doubt to Scott that the computer was hooked up worldwide and got a lot of use.

  “Again,” Service said as he dropped down into his chair with a sigh, “thanks for coming.”

  “It wasn’t a problem,” Hank said gently, “but it would be nice to know why we’re here.”

  “I suppose,” Gary said, “that starting from the beginning would be the best. You see, during the Korean war, my father found a large emerald in the ruins of a temple.”

  Scott felt as if someone had run an electrical shock through the seat of his chair. And with the intimate connection with Jean, he could feel she was just as surprised as he was. That sounded exactly like how the Juggernaut had gotten his powers.

  Service looked first at Scott, then at Jean, then Hank, a puzzled expression on his face. He could clearly tell they were shocked. “Does that mean anything?”

  “It might,” Hank said. “But please go on with the story.”

  Service nodded. “My father was warned by a monk to never touch a gem he found in that temple, so when he discovered the emerald, he says he didn’t touch it.” “And he kept it all these years?” Jean asked. Service nodded. ‘ ‘Up until the other night my brother, Robert, and I didn’t even know it existed. But you see, my father is dying of cancer, so he decided to show us, and warn us to not touch it.”

  ‘ ‘And your brother ignored the warning?’ ’ Scott said. His stomach was twisting like he was about to go into a life and death battle. Could it be possible that there were now two Juggernauts? That thought was just too ugly to comprehend.

  “That’s correct,” Service said. “Robert has a real ego problem. His goal in life is to be the richest and most powerful man alive. And, I’m afraid, he will stop at nothing to get it.”

  “So what happened when he touched the gem?” Jean asked.

  Service shuddered. “It was amazing. Some sort of energy flowed out of the emerald and surrounded him, expanding him, making him bigger and much, much stronger. I’ll bet he’s almost eight feet tall now.” “Another Juggernaut,” Scott said softly.

  “Possibly.” Hank said. He stared intently at Service across the desk. “How tall would you say he is now?” Service frowned. “He barely hit six feet before, and he grew at least half a foot.”

  Hank nodded. “Then he’s not quite at Cain’s level. The Juggernaut is closer to seven feet tall. Did the gem in some fashion attach itself to him?”

  “No,” Service said. “He still held it in his hand when he left the room.”

  Scott was starting to see where Hank was going with the questions. The pattern of what happened to Robert Service when he touched the emerald was similar to what happened to Cain Marko when he touched the Cyttorak ruby. But it wasn’t exactly the same. And that was a good sign.

  “So where is your brother now?” Scott asked.

  “He’s on our private jet. I just got a report that he's just taken off from Boise, heading north toward Spokane.”

  “Idaho?” Jean said. “What’s he doing out west?” “I have no idea,” Service said,
sighing.

  Jean stared at Service for a moment, then said, “I

  think we should talk to your father now, if that would be all right?”

  Service shrugged and stood. “He’s got a special, round-the-clock care unit set up near the front of the house. I hope you can stand the smell.”

  “Smell?” Scott asked.

  Service nodded, leading them toward the office door. “That’s right. You see, my father is dying of a nasty form of skin cancer. It is not pleasant.”

  After four hours of standing totally still in a small alcove just down the street from the entrance to the Bijou, Remy’s “ghost” from the previous night hadn’t shown up.

  Around the French Quarter, the tourists were now mostly bunched around the shops, bars, and clubs along the narrow Bourbon Street. Only a few braved on foot the darker side streets between Bourbon and the Cafe Du-mond down near the river.

  A11 the good restaurants in the Quarter were long closed, and the thick smells of gumbo and Cajun cooking had been replaced with the faint odor of rotting garbage and spilled rum drifting on the warm humid air.

  When Remy had left the alcove, he half expected the “ghost” to show up and follow him, but on that guess he was also out of luck. At some point he was going to figure out what that “ghost” thing had been all about. But it didn’t look as if it would be tonight.

  Remy moved past the laughing tourists sitting in the outdoor Cafe Dumond and down along the river levy, heading for Toole’s headquarters. It was time someone talked to Toole about the old ways of the city.

  Remy figured he was just the person to do it.

  And tonight was as good a time as any.

  The black water of the river lapped at the rocks along the dike as Remy slipped from shadow to shadow, moving up into the neighborhood of the warehouse that had been converted by the mysterious Mr. Toole. The area was a

  rundown section of town. At one time, in the distant past, the district had been a busy area for shipping and business, but no one had yet taken the old, gray warehouses and converted them into shops for the tourists. So the buildings rotted in the heat and humidity and rain, occupied mainly by the homeless, the streets around them prime markets for illegal drugs of every type.