Fires of Man Read online

  Cole reported confirmation that their ordnance was en route. Hague procured a few small firearms and contraband silencers; sometimes the threat of a bullet was more effective than that of psionic destruction, and a silenced gun could easily slay a psion caught unaware.

  Agent spoke with Magister General Virard on his encrypted satphone, made to resemble a PDA-style smartphone. He asked about the Barrett girl, and while Virard was sympathetic to Commander Barrett, he decided, even if the girl decided to cooperate, it would be simpler and safer to eliminate her once the work was done. The commander would never have to know.

  When Thursday arrived, Agent decided to move forward with the Deregski fellow. He would assess for himself whether the captain had any use.

  At 1100 he arrived at the establishment Cole had cited: Nelson’s. It was run-down on the outside, but within was a well-cared-for bar and booths. The stools, tables, and other surfaces were made of dark, varnished wood. It was good he had dressed down for the occasion, in a dark, unassuming overcoat, a black long-sleeved sweater, and jeans. His standard attire would have stuck out.

  Agent took a seat at the bar and ordered a whiskey. The bartender—a young blond woman in a too-snug tanktop—was unfazed by his drink order so early in the morning. There were several other men present, nursing drinks of their own.

  Half an hour later, Lucrasz Deregski entered; Agent recognized the man from surveillance photos Cole had provided. Deregski sat down at a booth not far away from Agent and asked for a beer and a cheeseburger. He flashed the waitress a familiar, impertinent smile. She returned it in kind.

  A sexual relationship between the two, Agent noted; he filed the information in the back of his mind to be used as additional leverage.

  Deregski polished off his first beer rather quickly, then ordered a second. Unprofessional behavior was a good sign. If the man was willing to drink on the job, surely he would break more rules for the right incentive. Agent picked at his own food slowly, surreptitiously watching Deregski’s reflection in a mirror behind the bar.

  “Another whiskey?” the bartender asked Agent.

  He masked his annoyance and nodded. “Please.” He had finished his first drink so slowly that he felt no hint of the alcohol.

  Once she poured Agent a fresh one, the bartender leaned over the wood surface to look at Deregski. “Hey, Crasz, you gonna pay off your bar tab one of these days?”

  Deregski waved her off. “Been a slow month.”

  “It’s always a slow month with you,” she said, “because you’re on a salary, asshole.”

  “How about a payment plan?” Deregski asked. “Ten percent now, the rest on . . .” He waved a hand absently.

  “An undetermined future date.” She laughed.

  Agent gestured to Deregski with his whiskey glass. “How much does he owe?”

  “Four hundred seventy-eight marks, and change,” the bartender said.

  “Quite a sum,” said Agent.

  “He’s a friend,” the bartender said. She let out a long-suffering sigh.

  “You talking about me?” Deregski asked. “Don’t talk about me behind my back.”

  Agent took out his wallet and laid down a platinum Calchan Express credit card. Time to roll the dice. “For my food and drink, and his tab.”

  The bartender’s eyes widened, and then she put on a knowing, sympathetic grin. “He’s good looking, but I don’t think he swings that way. And you wouldn’t want him even if he did.”

  Agent met her gaze. “Thanks for the tip.”

  She waited a moment to see if he would reconsider. When he didn’t, she shrugged and ran his card. She handed it back, then passed along the receipt to sign a moment later. “Hey, moron,” she yelled at Deregski, “this guy just settled you up. You owe him a big fat thank you.”

  Deregski’s head jerked up from his plate. He looked at Agent with a wary expression. “What do you want?” he asked.

  Suspicious by nature, untrustworthy of strangers. Agent could handle that. “Let’s talk somewhere more private,” he said. Without waiting for a response, he strode purposefully toward one of the booths at the rear of the bar. He never once glanced back to see if Deregski would follow. Best to make the man come to him, make Deregski think he was not needed.

  Deregski did follow, after a moment’s consideration, his plate of fries and half-eaten burger in hand. He sat down across from Agent with a look of feigned boredom. “I’m listening,” he said.

  “My name is John Black,” Agent began, “CEO of Black Industries.”

  “The arms manufacturer,” Crasz said.

  “The very same,” Agent replied. “I’m looking to establish contracts with the Orion military. One can never have enough weapons, don’t you think?”

  “And?” Deregski asked. “Is there a point to all this?”

  Agent gave a false chuckle. “These negotiations are notorious for being long, drawn out affairs. I have a bottom line to consider. Before I meet with your General Liermont here in Grisham, I was hoping to procure some . . . information. Something that might better facilitate the process.”

  Deregski lifted a fry and brandished it at Agent. “Wow, you sure have a nice way of putting all that,” he said. “But blond hair doesn’t make me an idiot. You’re asking me to hand you privileged information from the military. That’s close to treason, buddy.”

  Agent faked amusement. He had to play this carefully. “I didn’t peg you for the honorable type.” Testing the waters.

  “That makes two of us,” Deregski said. “Who’d you have to pay for my dossier?”

  “Simply put, I keep an eye out,” Agent said, “for those willing to make a new friend with deep pockets.”

  “How deep?”

  “I’m after a multi-billion mark deal,” Agent said. “With a fraction of that, a man could live comfortably.”

  Deregski watched Agent for a long time before he spoke. “You’ll have to excuse me if I don’t trust you, or anything you’ve said.”

  Agent kept his face smooth, impassive. There was a “but” in there. Rather than prompt Deregski, he let the man measure out the rope to hang himself.

  “But,” Deregski continued, “how much are we talking here? A real figure.”

  “One and a half million in Calchan crowns, or the equivalent in Orion marks, whichever you’d prefer,” Agent said. He would make the man work for it.

  “Ten million,” Deregski countered.

  Greedy, was he? “Out of the question,” Agent said.

  “You told me yourself: you stand to make billions.”

  “My company stands to make billions, Captain Deregski,” Agent said. “That revenue goes to many places other than my own pockets. Two million.”

  “Nine.”

  They went on like that for a time, finally settling on four million and not a penny more.

  “This doesn’t mean I’ve decided to help you,” Deregski said. “I just wanted to figure out the terms.”

  “I wouldn’t want you to do anything hasty,” Agent said. “Consider as carefully as you like. Here’s my card.” Agent produced a plain white business card embossed with black and gold lettering. The cards all had dummy numbers Moreau had arranged to be forwarded to burner phones in her possession. “Feel free to do a little research on me. If you’re happy with what you find, I’ll meet you here again in one week. Or not, should you decide to forego my offer. In that case, I’ll simply find someone else.” If Deregski thought he was indispensable, that would only weaken Agent’s position.

  Deregski snatched the business card, then tapped it thoughtfully against the heel of his hand. “What if I should decide to tell my superiors about this?”

  Agent paused. Blackmail? Interesting. “Oh?” he said.

  “Wouldn’t my continued silence be worth some kind of, I don’t know, compensation?” Deregski asked.

  Agent’s lips curled back into what was supposed to be a grin. Agent had never quite mastered the technique of making a smile r
each one’s eyes, which often caused any such attempts to evoke apprehension in others. In this case, it was exactly what he hoped for. “I don’t believe you understand, Captain.”

  “I think—”

  Agent silenced Deregski with a single upraised finger. “Your government wants this deal as much as I do. The worst thing you can do is cost me money, though I doubt even that. I’ll deny any misconduct and pay off anyone who’s seen us together. If you press the issue, I’ll tell your superiors about your debts, your gambling habits, your drinking problem, and your penchant for loose women. I’ll make certain you’re discharged from the military, dishonorably. I will take apart your life, bit by bit, until you have nothing left, Mr. Deregski. Trust me when I say that I have very long reach, even in Orion, and many ways to make you suffer.” He gestured at the bartender. “She’s a pretty one, don’t you think?” He let that sink in.

  Deregski swallowed, licked his lips, and idly scuffed the business card back and forth on the table. “Four mill?” he asked.

  “Yes,” Agent said. “And my gratitude. Which can be even more valuable.”

  “I’ll look you up,” Deregski said. “I’ll give you my answer in a week, like you said. Please . . . don’t extend this offer to anyone else while I decide.”

  A fatal slip. Deregski had given away his position. Oh, he would hem and haw, mull it over, but in the end he would agree to whatever Agent wanted. “I would not dream of it, Captain,” he said.

  Everything was falling into place.

  21

  FINN

  In his first two weeks with Special Operations, Lily pushed Finn harder than he thought possible. Each morning he was roused at 0500, and each night he went to sleep long after nightfall, his body sore from the day’s exertions. No mention was made of psionics; every minute was spent on physical training. Lily administered drills, and she was as harsh a taskmistress as he’d ever known. Not only that, she had the foulest mouth he’d ever heard.

  At first Finn wanted to know when they would get to the use of his powers. Every time he asked, Lily pushed him harder. Finally,he stopped asking. The only thing she was willing to say was that if he didn’t get “fucking stronger” he’d “never amount to shit.” Despite

  the cursing, she didn’t say it in a cruel manner; she said it as simple fact.

  That only made Finn want to do better.

  He was kept on a strict diet of lean proteins, whole grains, healthy fats, and lots of supplements. He’d never before thought he could be anything but scrawny, yet after a relatively short while he was able to see the differences: a more rounded shoulder; a tauter, flatter belly; a more pronounced chest, albeit subtly so. The change he felt in his endurance was exceptional. He was elated, until he remembered the sort of work they were training him for. Still, it had been his only choice, hadn’t it?

  At the beginning of his third week, instead of Lily, Joachim came to see him.

  “How are you doing?” he asked.

  “I’m . . . I’m okay,” Finn answered. “It’s not as scary as I thought it’d be.”

  Joachim chuckled.

  “I miss the outside, though,” Finn said. “I don’t even know where we are. I feel like I haven’t seen the sun in forever.”

  “It might be a while yet before you see it again. But that depends on you, Finn. I’m here today to discuss your ability. And how we can ensure you are in control at all times.” He let that sink in a moment. “You have enormous potential. But that makes you dangerous. If you are not capable of bending your power to your will, you may never see the sun again.”

  Finn swallowed. “I want to learn.”

  “Good,” said Joachim. “Sit with me.” He sat crosslegged on the floor. Finn followed suit, facing him. “First we must talk of anger and fear.”

  “Fear?” Finn asked.

  Joachim ignored the question. “It is easiest for you to use your power when you feel anger. Why is this?”

  “I don’t know,” Finn said.

  “What drives you to anger?”

  “I don’t know,” Finn said again.

  “The very first thing that enters your mind,” Joachim said.

  Finn thought about it, and one word immediately popped into his head. It was something he’d felt for years when being picked on by his brothers, while his parents acted like he was making a big deal over nothing.

  “Injustice,” he said.

  “Yes, good,” Joachim said. “And why does injustice make you afraid?”

  “Angry,” Finn said.

  “Why does injustice make you afraid?” Joachim repeated.

  “I . . .” He hesitated.

  “I know it is a personal question, Finn,” Joachim said. “And we have not known each other very long. But I ask you to trust me. In this, I have only your best interests in mind. If I am to help you, you must be able to confide in me. I will not judge you, or your feelings. I only wish to help you understand yourself. Now . . .” He looked into Finn’s eyes. “I ask again. Why does injustice make you afraid?”

  Finn took a breath. The answer to the question was there, waiting for him to give it voice. “I’m afraid I can’t do anything to stop it. I’m afraid I’m too weak.”

  Joachim nodded. “This fear becomes anger. Directed at yourself most of all, I think. You feel this fear every day of your life, do you not?”

  “Yes,” Finn said.

  “It is a fear that you are unable to meet the challenges that arise from defending your beliefs.”

  Finn nodded.

  “However, when you are confronted with something so abhorrent to your sense of justice, that anger is at last turned outward. Then it supersedes the self-hatred. I believe this is why you access your ability in times of passion.”

  “What about the time with Captain Allen?”

  “He brought you into a state of serenity. In your current state, with the pressure you place upon yourself, I do not think you will be able to do this on your own. Certainly not in moments of great distress. First we must harness your passions, and help you tame them.”

  Finn said, “Whatever it takes.”

  “It can be perilous,” Joachim said. “You may hurt yourself. Psionics are deeply connected to one’s psyche in ways we have not even begun to understand.”

  “I’ll do it,” Finn said. The last thing he wanted was to be stuck down here. He had too much to atone for. It’s worth the risk, he thought.

  In the days that followed, Joachim led Finn through a series of exercises. He asked Finn to recall events of his life while in meditation. Joachim used his power to put Finn in a hypnotic trance. This allowed Finn to remember with greater clarity.

  Joachim made Finn go over every detail, made him pause and languish in the emotion each experience evoked. Joachim carefully guided Finn through years of tussles with his brothers, when he was forced to undergo the sensation of being held down, helpless, incapable of doing anything about it.

  Finn remembered how his brother Judd had tackled him in the grass while he was wearing the brand new khakis he had gotten for his seventh grade school photo. The bright green stains hadn’t come out no matter what Finn or his mother tried, and he’d dreaded the mockery for showing up in grass-stained pants.

  Judd had been scolded for the incident, but no more. That had pushed Finn over the edge. While Judd was out in the yard practicing his football pass with their father, Finn had torn through Judd’s bedroom like a storm. He had upended furniture, emptied dresser drawers, pulled the sheets off the bed, and knocked the sports trophies from their shelves. After, his mom and dad had made Finn clean it all up while Judd looked on, gloating. Finn had protested that his pants were ruined, while he had not actually ruined anything of Judd’s. His parents wouldn’t hear it. They said what Finn had done was malicious, while Judd had only been playing. They never saw the mocking smirk Judd wore as he watched Finn from over their parents’ shoulders.

  These exercises went on for more than a week. For Finn, the
time stretched painfully.

  He still spent mornings at Lily’s beck and call. Because she no longer had him all day, she drove him twice as hard. After, he was allowed a brief lunch. Then he had six hours with Joachim, reliving every terrible memory he’d accumulated in his eighteen years.

  It was sheer torment.

  Each night when he went to bed, he would sob into his pillow over everything that had gone wrong in his life, and how he had been powerless to stop it.

  And somehow, a profound shift began in him.

  Finn realized there was no use in beating himself up. He learned to analyze his experiences, pick them apart. He wanted to understand why he had reacted the way he had, and what he could have done differently. He saw himself as he was now—someone entirely separate from the Finn he had been before. He saw he had a chance to be strong, to effect the change he so desperately sought.

  He stopped being angry at himself.

  Joachim began to guide Finn through alternate scenarios of his life’s events.

  This time, when Judd tackled Finn and ruined his khakis, Finn calmly asked for an apology and the money to buy a new pair. Even in Finn’s mind, Judd’s response to that was, “Make me.” Finn told Judd he would tell their parents about Judd’s fake ID and the case of beer hidden in the garage if Judd refused.

  In a final ordeal, Joachim took Finn through the incident with Merry. Finn was transported back there, the bustle of the mess hall all around him as he sat with Val and James.

  He saw Sonja, sitting by her lonesome.

  He saw Merry approach her with his gaggle of buffoons.

  Finn stood, walked over, and planted himself directly between Merry and Sonja.

  “What do you want, Straggler?” Merry asked. In the mental projection, Merry’s cohorts transformed into Merry copies—chortling, grinning, daring Finn to do something.

  Finn’s fists clenched. Everything was so vivid. Fury boiled in him, but he stoppered it. This was only in his mind. If he could not control himself here, how would he ever be ready to confront the fears and dangers and complete jackasses in the real world? He kept his voice calm. “Leave her alone,” he said.