Mages Unbound: Book 2 of the Fifth Mage War Page 2

  Mary’s full focus was gradually drawn into the song. It had never been her favorite tune, but the melodic line was sure. She stood up, clipping the music onto the stand in front of the open window, in case a breeze miraculously arose.

  “Sie kämt es mit goldenem Kämme / Und singt ein Lied dabei / Das hat eine wundersame / Gewaltige Melodei!”

  Mary’s voice was strong, her tone more substantial than when she’d first sung the lied at sixteen. Her song carried over the street noises below, and the few passersby not on their cellphones paused for a brief moment as they walked down the block, before moving more slowly on their way. Who was the siren singing the violent melody now? Mary thought.

  Below, the blond woman in flip-flops with a bright yellow rubber bag slung across her shoulder stood at the door to Mary’s townhouse, listening.

  That morning, Mike was torn between leaving and staying. He wanted to go because watching Mary tear herself apart had become unbearable. She wouldn’t see any of the doctors he’d found for her, wouldn’t talk to him, wouldn’t speak to the kids. The only thing she’d done for the past week was drink.

  But today she was singing. And Mike wasn’t totally sure whether her change in behavior meant that she was getting herself back together, but it had to be better than what she’d been doing before.

  He’d listened to Mary’s half-truths, sure she didn’t even consciously realize that she wasn’t being completely honest, then pretended to leave, waiting for at least twenty minutes until he heard her start to practice. Just to make sure.

  Mary hadn’t used the conservatory for solo practice since Alicia had gone to college, and she’d let her various performance engagements dwindle. When the kids went off to school, most people picked up hobbies or volunteer work. They filled the void of a child-free house with a dog, or started playing golf on the weekends … They didn’t wind stuff down. But Mary had dropped everything except her actual job with the choir.

  Mike berated himself silently. Discovering the truth about her family’s lies might have been the straw that broke the camel’s back, but Mary had been bending under some weight for a while. He should have known something was wrong when she stopped serving as the cantor at mass.

  But she’s singing again today. That’s got to be a good thing, Mike thought, biting his hangnail as he listened to Mary begin the aria. His heart skipped a beat at the purity of her tone. She may not have practiced in several years, but her voice could still grab him. His cell buzzed in his pocket, and he shook himself out of his reverie.

  “Hey, Christine. What’s up?” Mike asked as he stepped out the door. By now, his assistant was used to him skipping the preliminaries. As a truth-teller, he didn’t lie and avoided social pleasantries as a general matter.

  “Ms. Watkins wants to see you when you get in. She had me tell Jerry to go ahead with the deposition without you,” Christine said directly in response. She’d worked with Mike long enough to know how much small talk grated on his ears.

  Mike’s heart sank. Shortly after truth-telling the Danjou elder for Major General Hayden last year, his boss had started getting requests for Mike’s secondment. At the time, Hayden had told Mike that he wanted him on his staff permanently, but Mike never imagined the general would be this persistent.

  Unlike General Hayden, the Department of Justice needed Mike to read truth daily: they were always interviewing witnesses and investigating the truth behind crimes. They’d been prepping for weeks on today’s deposition of the key witness in their high-profile antitrust case. But Hayden hadn’t given up in the face of the DOJ’s opposition.

  Mike’s boss had already promised to make him available to Hayden upon request, but the general had been clear that the promise of a free resource wouldn’t be enough. He said he wanted Mike full-time and wasn’t taking no for an answer. The fact that today’s deposition was going forward without Mike probably meant that the general had finally gotten his way.

  “Okay, Christine. I’m on my way now.”

  “I’ll let her know … and Mike, I’m sorry.”

  “You wanted to see me,” Mike confirmed after his boss waved him into her office.

  Ann Marie Watkins was wearing a yellow blouse today. The color was a bright contrast to the dim light and set off her dark skin and eyes. The U.S. Attorney was well-regarded at the DOJ, and Mike felt personally indebted to her for her willingness to battle government bureaucracy to get him transferred to her team. She’d won the battle with the CIA, but the look in her eyes told him she’d lost the fight with the DoD.

  “Sit down.” Watkins gestured to the chair that wasn’t covered in file folders. After Mike sat, she shook her head.

  “I’m sorry, Mike. There’s nothing more I can do.” Lie.

  Mike ignored the sour taste of her white lie; he wouldn’t expect her to call in every favor she had just for him. She’d done enough already.

  “I appreciate everything you’ve done. Major General Hayden wants what he wants, I suppose. I just can’t imagine I’ll be as useful at the Pentagon as I am here.”

  Mike knew he’d helped Hayden enormously last year. The Danjou elder hadn’t wanted to reveal anything — especially not her enclave’s failure to capture the Brazilian pivot. If Mike hadn’t been there to read her truth, Elder Hilda wouldn’t have said anything about it, and General Hayden would still be wondering what information the government’s mage allies were withholding.

  Still, that meeting seemed like an anomaly to Mike. He doubted Hayden was having many discussions like that one.

  “It’s not just Hayden who wants you, Mike.” Watkins’ tone was serious. “I may have done you a disservice by explaining how valuable you were to us. I’m afraid I stirred up things better left buried.” Truth.

  “What do you mean?” Mike asked.

  “You’re being transferred to Major General Hayden’s staff. Which is what you expected and what we were trying to avoid, I know. But the more I resisted, the more the general started poking around, and I got a few calls from the FBI and the CIA. They want you back, Mike. You’re quite popular.” Watkins injected her tone with some levity, but Mike was far from amused; he felt his heart rate speed up.

  Major General Hayden and the Defense Department was one thing — they were bureaucrats — military bureaucrats — but bureaucrats nevertheless. The CIA and FBI teams he’d worked with had been field agents. They’d been on the front lines of protecting the country. By the end, his job had become too hands-on.

  “I’m not going back,” Mike said stiffly.

  “That’s what I told them,” Watkins replied. Truth. “In fact, I told them that you’d quit government service altogether before being assigned to any CIA projects and that you even have an unusual term in your DOJ contract that allows you to refuse any FBI assignment.”

  Mike felt a rush of relief at the lemony taste of Ann Marie’s astringent truth. She’d done what she could for him.

  “Hayden says he needs you, and he’s got the pull to make it happen. This won’t be like it was before, Mike,” Watkins said gently.

  The DOJ had rescued him from a dark place when he’d left the CIA. Mike hadn’t told Ann Marie why he needed out, of course. That was confidential, but he thought she’d put two-and-two together.

  “I don’t understand why Hayden wants me on his staff so badly.” Mike shook his head. “I mean, I know he doesn’t have a ton of interviews that he wants me to sit through. Having me just wait around at the Pentagon is a waste of time and money.”

  “Do you really think the military cares all that much about time and money? An efficient military is an oxymoron. You’re a valuable asset. After that Danjou meeting, they must have realized they were going to need you again at some point. Having you work for someone else means you may not be immediately available when they call. So, they’re willing to pay you to do nothing until they need you.”

  “What a waste,” he said, the sour taste of his boss’ exaggeration mingling with his own disgust.
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  “Christ, Mike!” Ann Marie shook her head, surprised at his naiveté. “Ninety percent of the military’s job is to sit on their asses and wait for some shit to blow up somewhere. We pay a fortune in tax dollars just to make sure they’re available when we need them. It can’t be a huge shock that they want you to just sit around.”

  Mike grumbled at the truth of that. “I hate sitting around.”

  “Come on, you know half the depositions we have you sit in on are just to make the subject sweat. And I got Hayden to promise that if we really needed you, and you were available, we could borrow you. He owes us that, at least.”

  Ann Marie was trying to make him feel better. She had always been a supporter.

  “Is my contract just transferring over, or do they want to renegotiate?” Mike asked.

  “Your call, but I’d advise you to stick with the contract you have. It took a lot of wrangling to get approval for the non-standard provisions. You could try to hold out for more money, but you’re already at the max of our pay scale, and those kinds of negotiations could leave you twiddling your thumbs for a while. Remember how long it took us.” Watkins smiled.

  For a moment, Mike wondered if that wouldn’t be best. He could spend time with Mary while they worked out the details. But then, last week she’d reacted so badly when he took a personal day, it might be counterproductive. Stop hovering, she’d said with bite, then proceeded to down a quarter bottle of bourbon in all of ten minutes.

  But today she’d started singing again.

  “So what’s the story? When is this all taking place?” Mike asked.

  “The contract transfer is effective immediately. You could delay it if you want to renegotiate …” Watkins let her voice trail off in a question. When Mike shook his head, she continued briskly.

  “Well, after you pack up your office and say goodbye to the team, I want to take you to lunch.”

  “You don’t have to do that—” Mike started to say, but his boss held up her hand to stop him.

  “You have a lot of friends here, and I really wish we could keep you, but …” Ann Marie shrugged, then her face drew into a serious expression. “You know you can call me, Mike. Anytime.”

  Mike felt a lot better about this change. If he even got a hint that this assignment was going to be a repeat of his last one with the CIA, Ann Marie Watkins would have his back. And with that assurance, Mike thought he might just be able to make the transition work.

  By the time he was done passing by everyone’s offices, he’d eaten through most of his Tums and was actually eager to leave. Out of the frying pan, Mike thought as he left the building.

  Mike decided it was a good sign that Lieutenant Steve Allen came down to the front desk to meet him personally, instead of having one of the duty officers walk him through security.

  “Good to see you again, Mike,” Lieutenant Allen said, shaking his hand. Steve Allen was several inches taller than Mike, with close-cropped hair and light brown eyes. The younger man managed to convey warmth despite the pristine creases of his uniform and straight posture.

  On the way to the general’s office, the lieutenant took the time to introduce him to various people on the “Arabian Team,” which was an unexpected courtesy. When you were a contractor instead of a regular employee, the federal workers sometimes treated you like a visitor, or worse, a trained monkey. But so far, General Hayden’s staff had been relatively welcoming.

  “We’re the guys who manage the cluster-fuck that is inter-agency, inter-departmental cooperation on Arabian security, Mike,” Lieutenant Allen said as he walked him down the hall to the general’s office. “Project Hurricane is one of the toughest assignments at the Pentagon right now. Not that I’m biased or anything,” he added with a wry grin.

  But Steve Allen was telling the truth, at least as he saw it. The crisp taste of that, along with his easy manner, gave Mike hope that this transfer might work out.

  Steve nodded at the woman seated at a desk outside the General’s door.

  “The general’s expecting you,” she said, before pushing a button on the phone. “Mr. Arnold is here to see you, general,” she said, then looked at Mike. “Go ahead.”

  The general’s office was much larger than Ann Marie’s, with a bookcase to the right of the door and a rather threadbare green couch on the left. Mike wondered if General Hayden slept in his office; the worn edges of the armrest looked like it had taken that kind of use for years. The general was walking around his desk when Mike came in.

  “Mike, we’re glad to have you aboard!” Major General Hayden’s face looked warm beneath his buzz-cut silver hair. “I had to get the White House involved to get your contract transferred over, but I know you won’t disappoint.” Truth.

  That was a surprise. Mike knew the general would have needed some senior pull to counteract Ann Marie’s influence, but he hadn’t expected the President’s staff to be involved.

  “I’ll do my best, sir,” Mike answered.

  “After you helped us out last year with our Danjou allies, I knew we needed you full time.” Lie.

  The burnt taste of Hayden’s partial lie didn’t bother Mike as much as the oddity of it.

  “You don’t consider the Danjou our allies, then, sir?” he asked.

  Hayden smiled a self-satisfied grin and pointed his finger at Mike. “And that’s why we need you, Mike. None of the truth-tellers in the armed services have your sensitivity. And believe me, before I went to the White House, I tried all of them out.” Hayden’s expression turned suddenly serious. “None of them could detect that level of nuance. And as you’ll soon learn, the Danjou are as much our adversaries as our allies. But come, sit down.”

  General Hayden directed Mike to take one of the chairs in front of his desk while he moved around to sit behind it.

  “Now, we don’t stand on formality … much,” the general said. “But we do require absolute discretion. You had Top Secret clearance already, but Project Hurricane is SAP, that is to say, a Special Access Program. Less than a dozen people have access to all the information you’ll be getting, and you should consider everything that goes on here at a Category One clearance level.” Truth.

  Some of the terminology flew over his head, but Mike caught the gist: whatever they were working on here was super-secret. Good God, what have I gotten into now, he thought.

  “But before we can officially welcome you aboard, we have to deal with a few concerns raised by the Australia Team. I want you to know that I have absolutely no doubt that you can be trusted with the kind of sensitive information we deal with here. I’ve already spoken to Javier Rodriguez and Chris Adams — everyone agrees that your integrity is unquestionable.” Truth.

  The hot cider taste of the general’s absolute trust was warm, but Mike would have been more surprised if Hayden hadn’t expressed such confidence after talking to those two. He’d worked for the CIA and FBI for almost twenty-five years before moving to the DOJ. All his former colleagues would have ample reason to vouch for him, but Javier and Chris were especially well-regarded.

  “General, I promise you that your confidence is not misplaced. But if there are any concerns that others have, I’m more than happy to go back to the DOJ,” Mike said.

  “You’re not getting rid of us that easily,” Hayden said. “No, I’ll just need you to speak with our counterparts who focus on Australia. They’ve brought in Captain Carol Jackson to observe.”

  Mike raised an eyebrow. Carol was one of the few truth-tellers in the military. Truth-tellers were a small community in any event, and he’d known Carol ever since she moved to D.C.

  “I’ve known Captain Jackson for years, sir. I assume that personal knowledge won’t present a conflict of interest?” Mike asked.

  “It’s been waived. After you’ve worked for the government long enough, you realize that everyone knows everyone. They’re waiting for you in Room 11B. Once we get the okay from them, we’ll be able to get you started. And I’ve got a lot planned fo
r this week.”

  Chapter 2 ~ Washington D.C., USA

  Mass production of enchanted devices only became possible with the Australian redesign of amplification spells. During the early-to-mid twentieth century, the number of magical appliances skyrocketed: from air conditioners, refrigerators, and garbage disintegrators to hybrid power supplies. In the 1980s, as demand rose for the industrial-grade silica-salt to fuel these appliances, new skimming technologies enabled the U.S. and Mexico to take advantage of silica-salt fields in the Mojave and Chihuahuan deserts.

  – The Origins of the Fifth Mage War (2089), by Jason de Atlantic, p. 34.

  Funny that the Atlantic brought me here, Cordelia thought. But of course, Mary was the person she always called when she needed to feel better. As Cordelia stood on the threshold of Mary’s townhouse, she was caught by her sister’s song.

  Cordelia could hear the ocean in her voice; the rise and fall of her notes barely hid a swirling sea of emotion, hovering ominously overhead like a wave about to break upon the shore. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d heard Mary sing, but found this song enchanting, almost terrifying, in its depths.

  While Cordy didn’t have the same ear for great voices that other sirens had, she thought Marisol may have been right about Mary. Her progenitor had only heard Mary sing when they’d stayed with her the year after Dad died, but Marisol said that Mary would be a singer to rival the bards of old.

  But then Mary had married Mike, and Marisol’s prediction hadn’t come to pass. Instead of becoming a world-renowned performer, Mary had started teaching and directing choirs. She was still well-known, Cordelia supposed, but not in the way the sirens had expected.

  Mary’s song stopped abruptly, and Cordelia shook off the sound of her voice to finally ring the bell.

  It took Mary a little while to climb down four flights, and she was quite surprised to see Cordelia when she opened the door.