THE CASE OF THE UNDYING MIND MASTER
"I thought you two had a rule about this sort of thing."
It's scary how quiet Logan can be when he tries. And, yeah, Marie and I do have a "no hanky-panky in the office" rule, but we were closed for the night and one thing had led to another...
"Eeep!" Marie yelped as she jumped out of my lap. Blushing furiously, she turned to face the wall as she hurriedly buttoned her dress. I refused to do anything with my blouse. For one thing, there wasn't any part of me that Logan hadn't seen, very up-close and very personal, at one time or another. And I would be damned if I'd let him to see me in a girly panic.
"Dammit, Logan!" I snarled at him.
"Ladies, I'm really sorry to interrupt," Logan said with vast and obvious insincerity.
"Business hours are over," I said as evenly as I could manage. "There's a sign on the door. I'm fairly sure you know how to read."
Logan tossed a money-clip on my desk. It was thickish and the outermost bill was a twenty. "I want to do some business, Dom" he said, "but if you aren't available..."
He let that hang as I forced myself not to stare at the money-clip. I'm a private-eye, but there isn't a lot of call in this town for a PI who doesn't take dirty cases. And at the moment, Domino Investigations was running in the red.
Trying to ignore the fact that my blouse was open and my pants were unbuckled - at least Logan couldn't see that last part since I was sitting behind my desk - I nodded at him and said, "Okay, we just opened for business. Now, what the hell do you want?"
Marie put a cup of coffee on the desk in front of Logan. Then she cuffed him in the back of the head and walked away, her back stiff and indignant. He smiled over his shoulder at her. The history there is long and messy, but the bottom line was that Logan would probably die for Marie. He would certainly kill for her. That was something we had in common.
Then Logan turned his attention back to me and said, "Erik is up to something. Find out what the hell it is."
Logan runs the biggest gang in this town. Erik Lehnsherr runs the second biggest gang. They step carefully around each other, but the smart money was that someday Logan and Erik would go to war. I wasn't looking forward to that day. Nobody was.
With a snort, I picked up Logan's money-clip - it was simple and worn and decorated with the crest of a Canadian infantry regiment that died at the Somme - and tossed it back.
"I don't do that kind of gang-work," I growled at him. "Have your own people sort it out."
"Emma's involved," he said.
That made me hesitate. Emma Frost is a very beautiful and very dangerous piece of work. She once used me and betrayed me, but I was willing to say she thought it was for a good cause. Hey, I can't say I haven't done worse a few times in my life. And in her own slightly crazy way, Emma tried to protect Marie and I when we needed it. I didn't exactly owe her, but...
Logan tossed the money-clip back at me. I caught it in midair.
"What are the details?" I asked.
He shrugged. "Erik and Emma have been seen together. And Erik's been moving men and money around in ways that don't make good business sense - it's like he's looking for something. Some of my people think I'm imagining things, but I'm willing to take a shot in the dark. That's where you come in."
"Why me?" I asked warily. Like I said, Logan has his own people - a gang of men and women with strange powers of the mind and body. And they're pretty damn good at what they do.
A wry smile flickered across Logan's face and then vanished, "If one of my guys is caught snooping around Erik's business, it could start trouble. But if a private eye with a known connection to Emma just happens to look her up... well, that's what the guys in striped pants like to call 'a deniable contact'. All very quiet and civilized and maybe some information changes hands that helps keep things from going crazy."
I couldn't help it - I snickered. That kind of delicacy was more than a little surprising coming from Logan.
"You oughta go to work for the State Department."
Logan's smile turn hard, "Too much lying and pretending."
I nodded slowly, "Okay. I'll go have a talk with Emma, but you're spending a lot of money for what might be not much work on my part."
"Let me worry about that."
I tucked the money-clip into my desk drawer.
Logan was gone, my shirt and pants were rebuttoned, and Marie was mad at me.
"You should have told him to go to hell," Marie said as she hammered at her battered typewriter. Whenever we get a little money I try to convince her to buy a new one, but she always refuses.
"We need the money," I said reasonably.
She sighed, "I know. I'm the one who lies to the bill collectors, remember? But a case involving Erik and Emma? That can't be anything good."
"And maybe that's why somebody should check on it," I replied.
She stopped what she was doing and turned around in her chair to look at me, "Dom, this whole thing sounds bad."
I sighed and then said, "I'll see Emma and have a few words with her. With any luck, that's all it will take."
Marie gave me a skeptical look. Even I didn't believe what I'd just said.
Emma was born and raised in this city, but after the Inner Circle was violently dismantled and she almost got killed in the process, I really thought Emma would get the heck out of town and never look back. But Emma just about always does the unexpected. Instead of leaving town, she raised her profile even higher. It was hard to read a paper nowadays - especially the society pages - and not catch a reference to the goings-on of the beautiful heiress to the Frost family fortune.
At the moment, Emma was living in a posh apartment in one the city's newer high-rises. There was a doorman in the lobby, but like most employees of the super-rich he was underpaid. The fiver I slipped him bought me both an unannounced entrance and the information that Emma was home.
As I knocked on the door to Emma's penthouse apartment, I wondered what it cost to live in a place like that. A month's rent was probably more than what I made in a year. That sort of thing always made me think. You can be a private-eye with scruples, but it doesn't pay much. If it was just me, I wouldn't care, but there's also Marie to consider. I wanted her to have something better in life than three dollar dresses, second-hand shoes, and an apartment the size of a large closet.
After a few moments, the door opened - and the surprises began.
"Hello?" Jean Grey said, one eyebrow raised enquiringly as she looked at me. She was wearing a very short robe made of white silk. Her legs and feet were bare and I was fairly sure she wasn't wearing much of anything underneath her robe. Her long red hair was mussed and her lipstick could have used some touch-up.
A while back, I caught a glimpse of Jean through a window. Then mortar shells started falling and that pretty much screwed up any chance we might have had for polite introductions.
"We've never met," I said slowly, caught completely off-guard. "But my name is Domino..."
The "who the hell are you?" look on her face cleared away and she smiled. My body temperature seemed to rise a half-dozen degrees in response. This girl was dynamite.
"Why, hello! It's nice to finally meet you!" Jean said eagerly as she opened the door wide and stepped out of the way. For the first time, I could see into the apartment. The decor had an art-deco motif, which had become pretty popular lately.
"Emma!" Jean called. "There's someone to see you!"
Emma Frost stepped into the living room. She wasn't wearing much more than Jean, and had the same tousled "I've been fucking like a bunny"-look about her.
"Hi, Emma," I said with a nod of my head.
Stepping close to me, Emma kissed me on the cheek. Then she looked at Jean.
"Jean, this is Domino. I've mentioned her to you."
Still smiling, Jean replied, "Yes, you have. So, what's it like to be a private eye?"
The last part was addressed to me. I couldn't help but grin. There was something about Jean that made you smile - an enthusiasm for life. Marie's like that, too.
"Never a dull moment," I said. "Lots of intrigue, excitement, handsome men, and pretty girls. And the money's great."
"That means monotony, divorce cases, hunting down missing persons who usually want to be missing, and otherwise dealing with grimy little people and their grimy little problems. And the money is terrible," Emma translated for me - fairly accurately I might add.
Jean laughed, "Don't mess with my romantic illusions, Emma. Tell you what, I was going to go do some studying. I'll get dressed and get out of here and you two can have the place to yourselves."
Jean vanished into the back as Emma picked up a tumbler and a crystal decanter and asked, "Scotch? On the rocks?"
I nodded.
"Sit down, Dom," Emma said distractedly as she poured. "And relax. You look uncomfortable as all hell."
Jean was a quick dresser. I was sitting on the couch and taking a first appreciative sip of Emma's extremely fine Scotch when she reappeared, dressed in a serious-looking black and green jacket-skirt combination. It went well with her now neatly brushed red hair. She was carrying an oversized handbag stuffed with so many books that it would probably break bones if she hit someone with it.
"Have fun," she called out. Then she gave Emma a quick kiss and walked out the door.
Emma curled up in the easy chair opposite me. She had her own glass of scotch and her minimal robe was riding up on her thighs to a very distracting level. Knowing Emma, that probably wasn't an accident. She likes people to be off-balance around her, and she doesn't hesitate to use her looks to get that effect.
"Yes, Jean and I are sleeping together," she said calmly, after taking a sip of scotch. "Yes, she's very good in bed. No, I've never chained her naked to a cold concrete floor and used her like a cheap whore. Yes, I seduced her so I could keep an eye on her. And, yes, despite my original motives I have come to... enjoy her company."
I gave Emma a dirty look.
"I didn't use telepathy," she said with a shrug. "I just knew what you were thinking and felt it would be best to get the obvious questions out of the way."
Typical Emma. Always with the games.
"I'm here on a job," I said.
Her eyes narrowed and she studied me over the rim of her glass.
"Logan wants me to ask you a few questions," I continued.
She was suddenly very still. Emma was once in Logan's hands. It hadn't been a pleasant experience for her. Of course, she did deserve almost every minute of it.
"And just what does Logan want to know?" she asked.
"What's up with Erik Lehnsherr? And how are you involved?"
She thought that over for a second and then said, "Not even an attempt at subtlety?"
"No," I said flatly. "And it would be a good thing if you gave me some information to take back to Logan."
"And why should I?" she challenged.
"Because I'm the soft approach, Emma," I said quietly and very truthfully. "Don't kid yourself - in the long run, this is Logan's town. He's been acting fairly civilized lately, but you once caught a glimpse of what he and his people can be like when they're unhappy. Blow me off and Logan might let it slide - or he might decide to try again. And the next time he comes asking questions it'll be a lot less polite."
"Don't try to frighten me, Domino."
I slammed my glass down on a glass-surfaced coffee table so hard that I was surprised it didn't crack. Until that moment, I hadn't realized how worried I was about Emma's immediate future.
"I'm not threatening you, Emma. I'm begging you. Logan smells blood. For God's sake, you know what that means better than most people!"
She stared at me.
"Look in my head," I ordered softly as I leaned towards her.
Emma put down her drink. Her fingertips - cold and wet from her glass - brushed my forehead. And she flinched at what she saw.
Picking up the glass of Scotch again, she finished it in one swallow. "Mr. Lehnsherr hired my services. I thought it would be politic to do as he asked - with the understanding that he owed me a favor."
I nodded, "Good call. The trick is to do some work for guys like Logan or Erik while keeping your distance and making sure that there are boundaries they understand you won't cross. And you should let everyone know that your relationship is strictly professional and that you're not a part of anyone's organization."
"I'll keep that in mind."
"So what did Erik want you to do?"
She smiled at me, "Come now, Dom. It really wouldn't be a good idea to betray Mr. Lehnsherr's confidence. But perhaps I can give you something to work with. Something he doesn't know that I know."
I waited.
"The Egyptian," Emma continued bleakly. "Whatever Erik is doing has something to do with the Egyptian."
Oh, crap. The stories told about the Egyptian are pretty ugly. He hurts people, and it's not just about business. He seems to like that sort of thing. Some say he needs it.
Dammit.
The fact that Erik was dealing with the Egyptian was news in and of itself. The fact that it wasn't being talked about out on the street was also pretty interesting. It meant that both Erik and the Egyptian were trying to keep it quiet. And they were succeeding.
I finished my drink and got to my feet. Emma rose as well.
"Leaving?" she asked.
"Thanks to you, I've now got a lot to think about."
She walked me to the door and held it open for me.
"One more thing..." Emma said.
Standing in the doorway, I paused and turned to look at her.
She took me in by the shoulders and kissed me. I didn't pull away. As a matter of fact, I took a firm grip on her hips and leaned into her. And so we stood together in the doorway, wrapped up in each other, for a long time.
"You go back home to the girl you love," she finally whispered to me. "And I'll stay here with mine. And we'll both try not to wonder how things might have been."
I left with a dozen half-connected thoughts whirling through my head. A visit with Emma can be unsettling even in the best of times, but this was more extreme than usual. I was seriously considering going back to Logan, telling him what I'd learned, and leaving it at that.
But...
But now I was curious. Scared, but curious.
"What do you know about the Egyptian?" I said into the phone. I was making the call from a phone-booth rather than from my office. I didn't want Marie to know that the Egyptian was involved quite yet.
There was a long pause on the other end, then Hank growled, "I don't like the sound of that."
Hank is Logan's number two guy. He's a big, tough-looking bruiser with freakishly big hands and feet. And he's a hell of a lot smarter than he looks. In fact, he's one of the smartest guys I've ever met. Logan sets policy for his gang, but Hank's the guy who figures out how it gets done. They make a pretty good team.
"I don't like it either," I said, "but I need whatever you got."
"Well... where do you want me to start?"
"Assume I don't know anything."
"Great," he growled again. Then he continued. "The Egyptian wandered into town about five years ago. Nobody knows why he came here. We have a source who says his real name is Amahl Farouk and he used to be a big deal in Cairo. Right now he runs a small, independent gang in the Arab neighborhood. I'm told that people in that part of town call him the Shadow King."
"What do they think of him?" I interrupted.
"They're scared silly of the guy. Anyway, he's one nasty son-of-a-bitch and both Logan and Lehnsherr want him to go away. By my count, the Egyptian's been iced at least four times since he got here. Twice by our people, once by Lehnsherr's, and one more time by a freelancer with a personal grudge. The problem is, killing him doesn't really finish him off. He just comes back - in someone else's body."
"Dammit, I was hoping that last part was just a story," I said. I'd heard stories about how hard it was to kill the Egyptian. And I don't like dealing with people that I can't get rid of by shooting them.
"You and me both. But the bottom line is that you can kill him, but he's a bitch to keep dead. The first time we got him, Kitty and Bobby caught him in an ambush. They swore they killed him, but the next day another guy is walking the streets and running the Egyptian's business as if nothing had happened. The second time we got him, Scott and Warren and Bobby sealed his body in a block of concrete and dropped it into the bay - and he was back in business within a week. The freelancer who got him is an ex-Marine named Castle. And Castle is a complete nut-job who uses the maximum possible force to solve problems. He apparently put most of a Tommy-gun magazine into the Egyptian and then torched the body, but even that didn't finish Farouk off. He just reappeared a few days later in a new skin-suit. Nobody has a clue how he does it."
"So that's why you guys tolerate him?" I asked.
"We don't have any choice. The constant brawling with his gang got expensive and we weren't getting anywhere, so we eventually wrote him off as a problem without a good solution. As near as we can tell, the Egyptian doesn't have any goals outside of his little part of the city, so Logan warned him to keep his operations local and that was the end of it. Apparently Lehnsherr feels the same way. There's been a truce ever since."
I thought all of that over for a second before continuing, "Exactly what did the Egyptian do to get on so many hit lists?"
Now Hank sounded disgusted, "Part of it's just business - when he first got here, the Egyptian thought he was going to take over the entire town. We had to teach him otherwise. But it's more than that. He's as bad as it gets, Dom. He does the stuff that nobody else will touch. Betsy thinks he feeds on pain and suffering."
Betsy Braddock is Logan's top psychic. I didn't know the lady too well, but if both Logan and Hank had faith in her, then she was good at her job.
"Just what can he do?" I asked.
"You mean besides the fact that he's ridiculously hard to kill?" Hank shot back. "Well, he's a psychic and he can read minds like most of them, but his big gig is that he controls people. If he concentrates on you, he can make you do just about anything. On a wider scale, he can make a lot of people really freaking loyal to him. Betsy says he's the most powerful 'possessor' - that's what she calls him - that she's ever seen. But he does seem to have some limits in how many people he can control or influence at a time. Otherwise, he probably actually would have taken over this town."
I sighed, "This really doesn't sound good. Anything else?"
Hank didn't say anything.
"Hank?" I said into the phone. "I'm working for you guys, remember?"
Then he sighed, "Okay, there's one more thing. He and Ororo have some history."
I blinked in surprise, "What kind of history?"
"She was the "source" I mentioned a while back that gave us the background info on the Egyptian. She worked for him when she was a kid back in Africa. Oh, hell, why play with words? Ororo was one of the people he controlled - one of his slaves."
"What does she have to say about that?" I asked slowly.
"She tries to hide it, but she's terrified of the bastard. Warren says she almost completely flipped out when she found out the Egyptian was in town. She wanted to run all the way to Europe, but he managed to talk her out of it. Can you imagine what it would take to make Ororo that scared of someone? Look, Dom, if you can figure out a way to permanently deep-six this bastard, there's a big piece of change in it for you. And my personal thanks."
I thought about that, "I may need to talk to Ororo."
"No."
"Hank..."
"No."
Logan's people are crazy-loyal to one another. Sometimes too loyal.
I took a deep breath and then let it out slowly, "Okay."
I made a few more phone-calls, talking to informers, reporters, cops, and other sources. I didn't get much. Nobody likes to talk about Erik or the Egyptian - or Logan for that matter. It's not good for your health.
Which left me with my one sort-of dependable source of information about Erik - Pietro and his gang. But there was a decent chance that Pietro and his boys might actually be working for Erik at the moment, so I had to be careful.
Lucky for me, there was one guy in Pietro's gang who would always be willing to give me the time of day. He wasn't answering his phone, so I went to 'Big Willies' - a popular downtown hotdog stand. A quarter bought me a cup of coffee and a Polish dog with sauerkraut, onions, and mustard.
Fred Dukes walked in a half-hour later. Some people call him the Blob, but not to his face. He's as big as a house and not very bright. It's funny how smart people - like Pietro and Erik, for example - sometimes say things around not-smart people that they shouldn't.
"Dom!" Fred yelled when he saw me, giving me a gap-toothed grin.
I waved to the guy behind the counter, "Give Fred here five of your footlongs. Same fixings as mine."
Back during my brief stint as a part of Pietro's crew, Fred was the guy who showed me 'Big Willies'. And he introduced me to his favorite style of hotdog at the same time.
With a laugh like a cannon, Fred parked his very big butt on a heavy wood and iron bench that existed for no other reason than to support the load that was him. Fred brought it in himself the day after he demolished his third chair.
"Good to see you, darlin'" he said with a grin. "But you only look me up when you want something. So what's going on?"
I couldn't help but feel bad. Fred had pretty much nailed it - I do like Fred in a funny kind of way, but he's not the kind of guy you voluntarily spend a lot of time with.
"You got me, Fred. Yeah, I do have a few questions."
"Ah, don't feel bad, sweetie. It's good to see you no matter what. So what do you want to know?"
"Pietro's dad is up to something. Any idea what it is?"
A cute, young waitress dropped the first two of Fred's dogs off at our table, "The rest are on the way, Freddie!"
Fred patted her ass and said, "Thanks, doll." She giggled and walked away. Weird.
Then Fred popped most of a hotdog into his mouth and began noisily chewing it to pieces.
"Well..." he mumbled thoughtfully through a mouthful, "Pietro and his dad had one of their father-son talks the other day. You know, the ones where Dad says, 'Do this or I will destroy you!' and Pietro says, 'Wah! You don't love me!' - that sort of talk?"
I managed to keep a straight face as I nodded.
Fred swallowed, belched, and continued, "Pietro's dad has him looking for somebody. A kid, I think. Pietro called off a bank job we'd been planning and took off on his own to do what Daddy wanted. Mortimer told me that Pietro was asking questions about runaway kids."
That made me lean forward. "Got a name or a description of whoever he's looking for?" I asked.
Fred shrugged, "Nah. Sorry, toots, that's all I know. Does that help?"
I stood up and kissed Fred on the cheek. He actually blushed.
After that, I bought a drink for a nervous social-worker in a basement speakeasy. He told me that some very scary people were quietly spreading money and threats through the city's child-welfare system. It was the classic carrot-and-stick: give us what we want and we'll reward you, hold out on us and you'll get hurt.
"What do they want?" I asked.
"Records on all the kids who've passed through the system in the last month. And notification about anyone new that got either picked up or sighted," he said as he morosely shook the ice-cubes in his now empty glass. I signaled the bartender to get him another one.
"It sounds like they're looking for someone." I said cautiously.
"If they are, they aren't giving out names or descriptions. They just want access to the files and reports."
I left the speakeasy and got in touch with a police sergeant who owed me a favor. He had a similar story. The word was out in every precinct that there were people with deep pockets who wanted to know about any loose kids that were running around on the streets. And again, there were no descriptions or names. They just wanted the raw information.
That night, at Marie's apartment, I told her everything.
"The Egyptian..." she said slowly. She was obviously worried to hear that he was involved.
"Yeah," I replied. I considered not telling her about that part, but if I kept secrets and she found out later... well, there was no telling what she'd do to me, but it wouldn't be pleasant.
"You see the connection?" she asked.
"The Egyptian sells kids," I said quietly.
Give Logan and Erik credit, they didn't have anything to do with that kind of thing. But there will always be a market for really young flesh. And that means somebody will try and make a buck off of it. It was the kind of thing - ugly and evil - that seemed tailor-made for the Egyptian.
"But this isn't about the Egyptian looking for kids that nobody will miss..." Marie pondered.
"No. This is still about Erik. As near as I can tell, Erik went to the Egyptian because the Egyptian is a good source of information on street kids. And Erik's doing the same thing with the cops and the bureaucracy. For some reason, Erik's looking for a kid or a set of kids. And he's pulling just about every string he can find. Except for one."
"Logan," Marie said immediately.
I nodded, "Yeah. Erik doesn't want Logan to know what he was doing."
"Why?" Marie asked.
"That's a damned good question."
"There's something else..." Marie began - and then stopped.
"What?"
"Erik's put a lot of time and effort into finding whoever he's looking for, but he hasn't found them. And he'd only go to the Egyptian if he was getting desperate."
I nodded, this has already occurred to me, "Which implies that whoever Erik is looking for is pretty good - unnaturally good, as a matter of fact - at keeping out of sight."
"Someone like us," Marie concluded. She was referring to people who have abilities beyond those of normal folk.
I nodded in agreement.
Later that evening, we lay in bed together, holding each other as the red neon lights outside of Marie's window flashed on and off. I really didn't have a clue what to do next.
And after I fell asleep, I had a nightmare where I was running down a street, frantically looking for Marie. All I could find was boys and girls who kept offering to sell me their bodies. One of them was very young Ororo.
Sleeping on a problem often helps - even if you don't get much sleep. The next morning, as Marie and I shared a breakfast of bacon and eggs, an idea popped into my head. There were some risks, and at least one wild leap of faith, but it might work. And I didn't have much else.
At the office, I made a phone-call.
"So I finally get to hear your voice," Dr. Xavier said pleasantly. The long-distance connection was unusually good. He was currently teaching at Harvard, which was a quick train trip up the coast, but I didn't have the time to go visit. So Mr. Bell's favorite invention would have to do.
"We were kinda overdo for a conversation, Doctor Xavier..."
"Please, call me Charles," he interrupted gently.
"Thanks. Look, Charles, I'm going to get right to the point. Somewhere here in town is a kid. Some scary people - including Erik Lehnsherr and a guy named Amahl Farouk - are looking for that kid. I don't have a clue why they want him, but it seems to me that maybe somebody else better find him first. I'm hoping you can help."
"And just how can I help?" he asked warily.
"I've got reason to believe that the kid is one of us - a person with special talents. And I'm taking a guess that you have a way of finding people like that. And it's no guess at all that you make a habit of helping people like us who happen to need help - particularly youngsters."
There was a long pause before he spoke again, "You seem to know a great deal about my affairs, Miss Thurman."
I blinked in surprise. Nobody calls me that. Hell, not that many people even know my real name.
"No offense, Charles, but after that business with Jean Grey and the Inner Circle, I got curious about you. So I did some checking - and connected a few dots. If I'm wrong, I'm sorry to have wasted your time."
"You are not wrong, Miss Thurman. But I would not like it to become common knowledge that I have developed a means of tracking mutants across considerable distances."
Mutants. I'd never heard that word before. I filed it away for reference.
"I understand," I said.
"Do you have anything I can work with besides the fact that we are looking for a mutant child in your city?" he continued. "Your hometown has an unusually large mutant population. I'm afraid that will make such a task difficult."
"Well... a common assumption seems to be that the kid is living on the streets. That probably means that he doesn't hang around with a lot of other people, and has found somewhere to hide. And he probably doesn't stick out too much in a crowd or he would have been picked up by now. And actually, I'm not really sure that we're talking about a loner - there might be more than one kid. For that matter, I'm not really sure that the kid is a "he". Sorry. I know that's not much, but it's all I've got."
He sighed, "I'll try my best."
"That's great! My phone number is..."
*That won't be necessary,* his voice spoke in my head.
I hate psychics.
*No, you don't,* he chuckled.
He was back inside an hour.
*I may have something for you.*
Even though I was expecting him to 'call', I still jumped. I'll never get used to all of this psychic stuff.
"That's good," I replied out loud as I reached for a paper and pencil. I was sitting in my office. Marie had stopped in the middle of what she had been doing and was looking at me. She was only hearing one side of the conversation.
*I have detected two young female mutants, probably adolescents, who are in the Piedmont area of your town. They seem to taking shelter in an abandoned home. I cannot determine the address, but from the mental images I managed to secure, the building is made of stone, two stories in size, has a gray slate roof, and was probably built in the middle part of the last century. It overlooks a small river. I suggest you hurry up, since I cannot guarantee that those girls will remain for very long in that area.*
"Thanks, Charles!" I yelled as I ran out of my office. Behind me, Marie was standing in the center of the room, her mouth open as she watched me leave.
Piedmont is a part of town that used to be pretty prosperous. Once upon a time, it was filled with factories and mills, and hundreds of workers lived nearby. But the plants were built around the time of the Civil War - and they ran into a lot of more efficient competition after the turn of the century. The Depression finished most of them off. Now the plants were mostly abandoned and so were a lot of the houses. Someday, when property values drop enough, somebody will start something up again in Piedmont, but for right now it's damn near a wasteland.
The small river running through Piedmont used to supply water-power for the plants and mills. Upriver from the factory district was where most of the homes were located. I checked that area out first - and found the place Charles had described fairly quickly.
The neighborhood was mostly abandoned, except for a few old-folks stubbornly hanging on to their decrepit homes. It was a grim place, but for a strange moment I saw me and Marie living in one of those houses. We were old and comfortable and waiting for the end of our days with the only thing that really mattered - each other. Somehow, that didn't seem too bad. Maybe that was how it was working for the people who were still there.
I parked my Packard on the far side of the block and cut through a trash-strewn alleyway. Before I crossed the street, I took my time to examine the area. Nobody seemed to be watching, either from the house that I was sneaking up on, or in the rest of the neighborhood.
A wooden "For Sale" sign nailed over the front door of the house was peeling so bad that you could barely read it. The windows were shuttered, except for one on the second floor. Looking it over, I got the definite impression it had been opened just recently, after years of being shut.
I moved off to the side, vaulting a couple of half-collapsed fences, so I wouldn't have to approach the house directly. Then I finally crossed the street and continued on into the back-alley beyond. It made sense to approach the house from behind.
The backdoor of the house had been jimmied open, but the damage was minimal. You had to examine the door closely to see that it wasn't secured.
As quietly as I could manage, I opened the backdoor and entered what had once been a kitchen. I had my .45 in my hand and I felt funny about that. What was I going to do? Shoot a pair of scared kids? But long experience suggested to me that maybe you should be carrying a weapon in circumstances like this. So I had a round in the chamber and the hammer locked back.
Everything in the kitchen that was easily movable and salable had long since been stripped out. Rusty iron water pipes, carefully capped, protruded from the walls. Through a doorless window, I could see some of what looked like a living room. I carefully closed the back-door behind me and the only light left was coming through gaps in the boards of the window shutters.
Figuring that the stairs were in the front, I continued on into the next room. And there I found myself fighting for my life.
I caught a brief flicker of movement in what I later found out was a fragment of mirror that was still hanging on a wall. Something flew out of a dark corner of the living room and it was only by the sheerest of luck (which is admittedly a specialty of mine) that I sensed it coming.
That was enough to make me duck and dodge to the side. Which was enough to save my life.
Something raked against my thigh and pain lanced up my leg as I felt hot blood soak into my pants. Whoever was attacking me, they were right on top of me and had some kind of edged weapon. Even worse, they were moving like they could see just fine, while I has half-blind. None of that was good.
I closed my eyes, and lunged backwards and away from my attacker as I fired my .45 twice. Through my eyelids, I could see the bright muzzle flash of my weapon. Since I was firing blind, I'd only hit if I got even luckier than usual, but that wasn't the point. The point was that the flashes would momentarily blind my attacker.
Careening towards the nearest wall, I hastily elbow-smashed open a shuttered window and then continued on into a corner. I wanted light and a reduced number of angles from which I could be approached. I got them both.
With my back to the corner, I held my weapon in front of me and scanned the now dimly lit living room.
Nothing was stirring. Not even a mouse. But there were a lot of dark corners and shadows.
Keeping my eyes on the room, I ran my free hand over the wound in my leg. It wasn't as bad as I feared, but it wasn't good.
There was a clatter from a particularly dark corner off to one side, but I refused to look at it. It was an attempt to get me to look in one direction while I was attacked from another. I immediately turned my weapon towards the opposite side of the room from where the noise had come.
She came out of the darkness, moving low and fast and with terrible purpose, but immediately saw that I hadn't been fooled. I fired just as she dropped to the floor and rolled back into the darkness. I didn't miss by much, but I did miss.
I got a fairly good look at her. She was a kid - maybe ten years old - with long black hair, skin almost as pale as Marie's, and eerie green eyes. She was wearing dark pants, work-boots, and a black long-sleeved shirt. And she had bone-white claws. Two on each of her hands and another one on each foot. In the brief moment I spotted her, I could see a streak of blood on one of her foot claws. That was my blood.
When I saw the claws, a big chunk of the mystery was solved. Oh, there were still some things that had to be sorted out, but now I knew what Erik was doing. On the other hand, that might not matter. There were four rounds left in my weapon. Unless I could come up with something, that meant I had four chances to ice somebody who was really fast, really lethal, and really hard-to-kill - or she would finish me.
"I'm from Logan," I said. Hopefully that would end it.
Nothing.
"Laura, please stop," somebody said from back and above.
I could only barely see her, but at the top of the stairs there was another girl. She was also dressed in black - some sort of long and old-fashioned looking dress - and was wearing a dark veil.
"Please leave. We don't want to hurt you," she said to me in strangely accented English.
In the darker recesses of the room, I could sense that the little girl with the big claws was using the distraction to slip closer to me. I didn't think that the older girl with the veil was lying to me, but I was pretty sure that "Laura" wasn't playing by the same rules as her friend.
"Laura! Stop!" the girl in the veil repeated sharply.
The girl ghosting through the darkness froze. And then she receded a bit. She seemed... frustrated.
My mouth was dry and blood was still leaking down my leg.
"Who is Logan?" the girl in the veil asked.
I almost laughed, but then I stopped myself just in time. I was beginning to feel light-headed.
"He's Laura's father," I said. Then I took a really big chance and lowered my weapon.
When we got back to my office, Marie took one look at me and immediately got me out of my pants. And not in a good way.
So there I was, pants-less, with a bottle of cheap whisky in one hand, and surrounded by three cute girls. When you put it that way, it sounded like a positive situation. Unfortunately, the reality wasn't much fun.
My now blood-stained desk chair had been rolled into the middle of the office. I was grumpily occupying it as Marie knelt next to me and carefully stitched up the gash in my leg. I was acutely aware of the fact that I was wearing a pair of delicate pink panties. I'd never buy a pair like that, but they were a gift from Marie. Normally, I'm plain ol' white panties kind of gal, but I was a little behind on my laundry...
Claw-girl and Veil-girl - their names were Laura and Sooraya - were watching the procedure with some interest as Marie sewed my leg back together. Sooraya was sitting in the guest chair. Laura was crouched next to her, and not looking even slightly guilty about the fact she was the one who cut me. Sooraya was slowly, soothingly, running her fingers through Laura's hair. Since only females were present, Sooraya had taken her veil down. It hung down by her shoulder, only held in place by one pin.
Sooraya was a dark-haired and -eyed teenager. She wasn't Arab. If I had to make a guess, she was from somewhere in south Asia.
"Stop wiggling," Marie said irritably as she tried to tie off the last stitch.
I bit back a nasty response and took another shot from the bottle. Really, I shouldn't have been drinking with a stone-killer like Laura sitting just a few feet away. But something told me that she wasn't in a homicidal mood at the moment. Otherwise I would never would have brought her anywhere near Marie.
Marie was finished with me and it was time to get back to business. I looked at Laura and Sooraya and said, "You two have some tough choices to make. And you have to make them fast."
Sooraya raised her chin slightly, but said nothing. Laura was also silent, but something in her eyes suggested that if I said the wrong thing then she was going to try to kill me. Again.
"I don't think your father knows about you," I said to Laura. I had to get her thinking about something other than gutting me. "If he did, he would have done a lot more than just hire me to figure out what was going on. He would turned the entire town upside down to find you. For better and worse, he's that kind of guy."
Laura gave me a long, puzzled look and then said, "I don't have a father."
Marie looked up from reorganizing her sewing kit and said to Laura, "Yes, you do, sugar. Everyone does. Although maybe some of them aren't worth a hoot."
Laura glanced at Sooraya and then looked back at me and Marie and said, "Not me. I'm not real."
What the hell?
"Don't you say that, young lady," Marie said firmly - her Southern accent becoming clearer now. "Don't you ever say that. And if you say it again I'll slap you silly."
Laura, the pre-pubescent predator, looked taken aback by that. Marie does that to people.
"Look," I said urgently, "you two are right in the cross-hairs of a bad situation. Do you know who Erik Lehnsherr is?"
Sooraya's eyes narrowed, "Yes."
"He's looking for Laura. Probably because she's a way to get a handle on Logan. And he's using the cops, the government, and people like the damned Egyptian to find her. Do you know who the Egyptian is?"
From the terrified look that appeared on Sooraya's face, I'd have to say that the answer to that question was a big yes.
"I helped Sooraya escape from the Egyptian," Laura said calmly.
Huh?
I glared at Laura, "How did you manage that?"
"I killed a lot of people."
Why was I not surprised? That seemed to be Laura's chosen solution to problems. Then the full meaning of what Laura had said got through to me.
"The Egyptian had you?" I asked Sooraya, suddenly sick to my stomach.
Sooraya nodded, unable to meet my eyes. Then she looked at Laura, but Laura seemed distracted. Her head was cocked to one side as if she was listening to something off in the distance. And she then took a deep sniff - like a dog who had caught of whiff of something interesting.
"People are coming to kill us," Laura announced calmly just before she grabbed Sooraya and hauled her behind the cover of my desk.
My shoulder-holster and .45 were sitting near at hand on my desk. I lunged for my weapon as the front door of my office was kicked open. Meanwhile, somebody used the fire-escape to simultaneously crash through the office window. I didn't have any choice but to ignore what was happening behind me as I put four shots into the two gun-toting goons who were coming through the door.
Behind me, I heard a dull crack and a man began screaming. I took that as a good sign. Then a guy with a handgun tried to snap a shot at me around the edge of the door. His round went semi-wild. I responded by putting two rounds through the wall he was trying to hide behind - and into him. The building is pretty crappily constructed.
There was a meat-slicing sound, something warm and wet splattered over my back and neck, and the guy who was screaming behind me suddenly went quiet. Then Marie yelled, "Dom! Let's go!"
There were more guys in the hallway and it was only a matter of time until one of them got lucky - or got mad and tried something like a grenade or a Thompson. So I fired my last few shots through the door to make the gunsels keep their distance as I faded back to the window. Just before I lunged through the window, I had a choice between grabbing my pants or a loaded .38 that was hidden under the papers in my outbox. I chose the gun.
Laura had sliced open the guy who came through the window and blood had fountained all over the back wall of my office. Out on the fire-escape, I slipped on the blood-soaked grated platform and collapsed. And because of that, a bullet that should have hit me whizzed over my head instead. Typical. On the other hand, I could feel the stitches Marie had just finished putting into my leg tear open.
Marie grabbed me and pulled me away from the window. Sooraya was crouched near the ladder going down. Laura was on the next level down of the fire-escape. At her feet, a thug with a ripped-open neck was thrashing wildly as he tried to hold what was left of his throat together. It wasn't working very well. Another thug on the ladder below Laura decided that he wasn't being paid enough for this and risked a three-story jump to the pavement.
Down on the street below, it was a heavily-armed crowd scene. There must have been a dozen guys with enough guns to conquer a small country. One guy actually had a rifle. I tagged him and a guy with a shotgun with the .38 revolver. The .45 was empty and I now had four rounds left in the revolver. From the office, I heard a burst of suppressive fire and then the thugs rushed the door. And I could see more cars full of badguys pulling up.
The situation was not looking good.
And then everything turned to wind and dust.
We were ten blocks away from my office, holed up in a garage. I'd done the owner a favor a few years back. He didn't have a lot of money, but he paid me back with free car repairs and a spare key to his place of business - just in case I ever needed a place to hide out that was relatively close to my office.
That trick where Sooraya turns into a miniature sand-storm had probably saved our asses. I'm not sure even Laura could have cut her way out of that mess back at the office building. Using Sooraya for cover, we doubled-back into my office building via a second floor window, and then went down a small maintenance stairwell and out a little-used side exit. Then Laura silently and efficiently killed two guys who were guarding the alleyway beyond. From then on we were more-or-less home-free.
My shirt was tied around my thigh as a make-shift bandage. So I was now down to panties, a bra, and my socks. My shoes were back at my office with my trousers. The garage wasn't particularly well-heated and I was beginning to shiver.
Marie had a phone in her hand and was dialing furiously.
"Who're you calling?" I asked tiredly, even though I was fairly sure I knew the answer.
"Logan!" she snarled. "I'm gonna see that bastard Lehnsherr strung up from a lamp-post for this!"
That made me wince. Once Logan got directly involved, that would start a war. And innocent people would inevitably die in the crossfire. But I didn't have another solution.
Sooraya pulled off the black cloak-dress thing she was wearing and carefully draped it over me. There was no way I could fit into it - I was at least six inches taller than her and maybe a foot taller than Laura, but at least it would help keep me warm. Underneath her outer gown, Sooraya was dressed pretty much like any girl you might see on any American city street. Maybe she was showing a little too much leg.
And a little too much belly. She was something like four months pregnant. And, Dear God, she was maybe sixteen years old.
"Godammit, Kurt! Get me Logan or Hank on this line right fucking now!" Marie was yelling into the phone.
"Who's the father?" I asked quietly.
"I am," Laura said. She was covered from head-to-toe with sticky, half-dried blood. None of it was her own.
I gave Laura a long, hard look, "Laura, you're different than most young girls I know. But unless you're even more different than I think..."
"The Egyptian sold me as a whore," Sooraya said matter-of-factly. "I do not know who the father is. There are many possibilities."
"I'll take care of Sooraya and the baby. So I'm the father," Laura told me stubbornly. Sooraya smiled at me and gave Laura a fond look. And for a moment the darkness that seemed to hang over Sooraya was dispelled. I couldn't help but wordlessly thank Laura for that. In fact, I never so much wanted to take Death in my arms and give it a kiss on the top of its head.
"Look, just what is the story with you two?" I asked exasperatedly.
Laura answered immediately. "Lehnsherr bought me in Canada and then brought me here. I don't know why. Then I killed some people and escaped. Then I found Sooraya and saw that she was a prisoner too. So I killed some people and freed her."
I bemusedly stared at Laura, "That's pretty succinct - in a lethal kind of way."
"Out!? What do you mean they're 'out'!?" Marie fumed into the phone. "Then have Betsy get a hold of those two furballs!"
Sooraya glanced at Marie, "The people at the office were from the Egyptian. I recognized some of them."
Marie hesitated in mid-rant and looked at me. She and I had both been assuming that the people who attacked us were Erik's.
"The Egyptian doesn't have a gang that big," I slowly told Sooraya.
"He can control people with his mind," Laura said with a shrug.
I glanced in Laura's direction, "I know that, but..."
"He can control many more people than is commonly known," Sooraya added tonelessly. "He has a very large force of men. They have everyday lives, and many of them are not even aware that he owns them, but he can summon them very quickly."
I looked long and hard at Sooraya, "How do you know that?"
"The Egyptian owned me for five years," Sooraya said with what seemed like bottomlessly sad emptiness. "He kept me alive because I am an abomination like him. He feeds on misery, and he said the emotions of our kind taste sweeter than those of ordinary people. So I know a great deal about him. More than anyone else, I think."
I looked at Marie. And she looked back at me. The phone was hanging in her hand and someone was talking on the other end, but Marie wasn't paying attention.
"Erik wants Laura..." I said.
"...and the Egyptian wants Sooraya," Marie replied.
"And the Egyptian knows about Laura..." I continued.
"...but Erik doesn't know about Sooraya," Marie finished.
"Get Ororo," I said, gesturing to the phone in Marie's hand.
Marie thought about that for a second, then she smiled grimly and put the chattering phone back to her ear.
There are things you never expect to see in life. And one of them is a scared Ororo Munroe.
"I have kept my distance from Farouk," Ororo said tensely. I noticed she actually used his name. She was one of the few who did.
We were in Ororo's loft apartment. It was more modest than you might expect. As one of Logan's top enforcers, Ororo makes a pretty penny. As the girlfriend of Warren Worthington III - the richest and most unlikely gangster you'll ever meet - she could live like a queen if she wanted. But instead, Ororo lives simply, surrounded by flowers and other plants and with a skylight that gives her a clear view of the heavens. The only trace of luxury I've ever seen around her are some ridiculously expensive dresses and jewelry, which I always assumed were presents from Warren. Here in her private quarters, the only sign that she was anything more than a struggling nightclub singer was a very large and decadently opulent bed. Hey, it had to be big if it was going to accommodate Warren's wings.
"We need your help, Ororo," Marie said. Then she gestured at Laura and Sooraya, "And these kids need your help. We have to draw the Egyptian into a trap. "
"And Sooraya and I will be the bait in your trap, Marie?" Ororo said coolly. "Bait is often eaten."
"It's our best chance, Ororo," I said as reasonably as I could manage. I had to be polite to Ororo since I was wearing some of her clothes. You should be nice to people who give you pants. "The Egyptian lost both of you - and his kind always has a problem with that. And if he gets the idea that Sooraya is in contact with you, and maybe about to spill everything she knows to Logan, then I figure that he'll react the way we want."
Ororo didn't seem to be moved, but her eyes met Sooraya's. "We do not have to go through with this mad scheme," Ororo offered. "I will take you in. Logan and Warren and my other friends will protect you and your friend as they have protected me. You will be safe with us."
"Gracious lady," Sooraya replied formally, probably translating a phrase from her own language, "as long as that creature walks the Earth we will never be safe. In his mind he will always think of us as his property. We are not the only people to have been his slaves, but perhaps we are the only two to have ever escaped him. We owe something to those who were not as lucky."
There was a long, tense moment as Ororo seemed to look deep into Sooraya's eyes. Sooraya looked back, obviously tense and afraid. And then Ororo nodded her head.
"Then we will fight for those who cannot fight," Ororo said softly. Sooraya bowed and said something to Ororo in a language I don't know. It sounded both humble and thankful.
Yeah, we were supposed to be a real tough bunch. And I guess we were. But I'll always believe that Sooraya was the bravest of us all.
We spent a day setting our trap. Once we were ready, Ororo, Sooraya, Laura, Marie, and I settled into Ororo's apartment and I made a few phone-calls. I used multiple cut-outs to put the story out on the streets that Ororo Munroe had a new house-guest. A guest who was an escaped slave of Amahl Farouk.
Implied in that story was the one message a gangster can never tolerate: was the Egyptian finally beginning to slip?
It was a situation that the Egyptian would have to handle personally. If he sent men, they'd likely bounce off of Ororo - and probably trigger a full-blown war with Logan. But if the Egyptian came himself, he would be able to use his psychic abilities to control the situation.
"How long do you think until he shows up?" Ororo asked me. By then it was the late afternoon of our second day in Ororo's loft. Ororo was puttering around her indoor garden, trimming and watering in an effort to keep her mind occupied. Sooraya was helping her and also seemed glad to have something to do. Marie was trying to read a book and was doing a bad job of it. Laura was waiting near the window that faced the street, watching quietly.
I suppose I should have at least tried to prevent Laura from being a part of this, but I knew that as long as Sooraya was here, Laura wouldn't leave her side.
"No way to tell," I said with a shake of my head.
Then I felt a wave of nausea wash over me.
"Psionic probe," Ororo said conversationally, but she was shivering now.
Sooraya dropped the watering can she was holding, spilling water over the wooden floor, and covered her mouth with her hands. Her eyes were wide and panicky. With all six claws out, Laura got to her feet, went to Sooraya, and put her arms around her waist. Marie tossed her book aside and stared at the apartment's door.
The door opened. I tried to draw my gun, but I couldn't move. Ororo's face was contorted as she struggled to do something, anything. Sooraya was openly sobbing, imprisoned in Laura's now unyielding arms. Marie almost managed to get to her feet, but then helplessly fell back into her chair.
Then the Egyptian walked in. He didn't really look particularly frightening. In fact, he was a young, short yet solid-looking guy with dark hair, brown eyes, and pock-marked cheeks. The white suit he was wearing was more distinctive than he was. If I'd seen him walking down the street in normal clothes, I would have assumed that he was just a working stiff from one of the Italian or Greek neighborhoods. And maybe that's who he was before the Egyptian took up residence.
The basic rule of fighting the Egyptian is that you may be able to take him if you can hit him by surprise. That's how people have managed to "kill" him before. But if you don't surprise the Egyptian - if he controlled the situation instead - then he controlled you. And that's exactly what happened to us. One by one, we got on our hands and knees and touched our foreheads to the floor. I was fighting as hard as I could to break free, but it didn't matter. We were directly under the gaze of the Egyptian.
"I will no longer tolerate this insolence," the Egyptian said. His voice was nothing like his unassuming appearance. It was very deep and something about it sounded old. Very, very, old. For some reason, a mental image entered my head of the Egyptian dressed as a Pharaoh, coldly lecturing a trembling group of errant slaves just before they were painfully taught the error of their ways.
Then he sighed tiredly, "Ororo, thanks to your association with that animal Logan, you will live. But you may be assured that I will someday settle the debt between us. As for the rest of you... it is such a terrible waste, but I have no choice but to eliminate you all."
"Yes, my Lord," we all said simultaneously.
"Ororo, stay. The rest of you, get up and follow me," he finished - almost regretfully. And Ororo remained on her hands and knees as the rest of us rose to our feet at the same time, like dancers who had been practicing the move for weeks.
Then another wave of nausea hit me as the others dropped their telepathic barriers.
Emma Frost and Betsy Braddock came out of the kitchen. Jean Grey and Charles Xavier from the bedroom - with Jean pushing the Professor's wheelchair. They had been there all along, hiding their presence behind shields of psychic force.
"Ah," the Egyptian said in disgust as he looked around.
The mistake everyone kept making was that they tried to kill the Egyptian with physical force. Maybe that was possible, but nobody had managed to make his death stick. You might say we were always bringing guns to a psychic fight. But this time we'd brought psychics to a psychic fight. A lot of really powerful psychics.
The Egyptian's hold on us slipped. I leaned forward as I strained against his control. I heard Ororo hiss and Laura growl as they did the same. Our part of the fight wasn't over. The Egyptian couldn't let us go because we'd clobber him physically and then the psychics could take their time as they worked on what was left of him. We had to make it hard for him to control us, while he was too distracted by the psychics to use us effectively.
Nobody moved as the invisible fight began. But just before it started, the Egyptian looked right into my eyes and said grudgingly, "Well played."
I honestly can't tell you what our psychics did next, but the Egyptian's hold on us suddenly collapsed. Marie slapped a hand against Laura's neck. Hissing angrily, I brought up my .45 and fired just as brutally-white lightning flared and roared through a snarling whirlwind of dust.
The Egyptian was knocked against the far wall and landed in a heap between Emma and Charles. Then he somehow managed to struggle to his knees.
And then Laura and Marie loped through the dust and wind towards the Egyptian, moving like beautiful, deadly lionesses, with fierce grins on their faces and their claws out and ready.
The Egyptian saw what was coming and tried to escape. With a long leap, he crashed through a window and onto the street below. Laura, Marie, and I followed him. As we scrambled out the window, a rain of shattered glass cascaded down from the apartment's roof as Ororo and Sooraya exited through the skylight.
I had to grab-and-fall my way to the street, but Laura and Marie were more direct. They simply landed in a crouch right on the sidewalk, side-by-side. All around us, people were screaming and running for cover as Ororo's storm lashed the sky and Sooraya swept waves of dust and debris through the street.
Then rain began falling. Thick, dark rain.
The Egyptian had hostages, of course. His kind always seem to find somebody innocent to hide behind. They were a young couple - a pair of handsome kids dressed in their Sunday best and probably out on a date. Now they stared blankly at us as the stood between us and the Egyptian. They were holding long shards of broken glass and blood was already trickling from their hands.
Fortunately, whatever Emma and the other psychics had done to snap us out of the Egyptian's control was apparently still working. I had my .45 leveled and pointed at the Egyptian's head. Laura was on my left and Marie was on my right. They were quickly, but carefully, circling around the hostages.
"Stop or they die," the Egyptian said in his old voice. The boy and the girl wordlessly put their blades of broken glass to their throats.
Marie stopped moving. And so - a bit to my surprise - did Laura.
"This battle is over," he continued coldly. "I will retire and these two will accompany me. When I am safe, I will let them go. Otherwise..."
The rain slowed and the roll and growl of thunder dimmed. I lowered my gun as Marie and Laura took a few cautious steps backwards.
I blinked hard to clear the rain from my eyes. And then a precise ripple of mud-filled rain slapped hard across the Egyptian's face. He staggered backwards and the two hostages seemed to blink in surprise.
Bless you, gracious lady, I thought.
My first shot took the Egyptian in the middle of his forehead. The second shot slammed into his right eye. As I took the Egyptian down, Marie and Laura lunged forward and tackled the hostages, bowling them over and slapping the glass daggers from their hands.
The Egyptian was now on his back and a big part of his head was missing, but incredibly enough he was still moving. Running up to him, I put another shot into his head and then four more into his chest. It wasn't time to play nice.
I was almost ready to relax when a dark shape rose out of the body. It was roughly human in shape, but the details were all horribly wrong. It seemed to be made of something like black smoke or fog, and I could see through it. Hovering over the body of the Egyptian, it smiled at me with teeth that were strangely sharp and white.
"Domino," it crooned at me, "I will amuse me to force your friends to kill you."
Then it moved towards me. Very fast. I was backpedaling as I desperately slapped a new clip into my .45, but I knew in my gut that a gun wouldn't help against this thing.
Its claws sunk into me - not physically, but in a way that was far worse - and I screamed. Marie tried to tackle it, but she simply flew right through. Laura hacked at it with her claws, but she might was well have been trying to cut through wood-smoke.
Gritting my teeth, I fought as hard as I could, but I could feel myself beginning to slide down a long, steep slope. And down at the bottom something hungry was laughing wildly and opening its jaws unnaturally wide...
*GET AWAY FROM HER!* someone shouted in my head.
In a flash of white light, Emma appeared among us. Like the Egyptian, she was indistinct around the edges and you could partially see through her. With a wordless snarl, Emma grabbed the Egyptian and pulled him off and away from me. I collapsed onto the street, and Marie immediately knelt next to me and took me in her arms. Laura and Sooraya were standing in front of us. And overhead, Ororo hovered like a guardian spirit as thunder rolled and her winds scoured the street around us.
Our part of the fight was over. Betsy, Charles, Emma, and Jean were now hovering in their psychic forms around the Egyptian. Their faces were set and grim while he frantically looked around for some way to escape.
Nobody made any melodramatic speeches or did anything visible. And I can't really say I understood what happened. But the Egyptian suddenly began screaming. And it went on for a long time before he finally seemed to just fade away and vanish.
Marie helped me to my feet. I wasn't injured, I just hurt like hell.
Sooraya was sobbing as Laura clung to her.
Wet and wind-tossed, Ororo stared for a long time at the stretch of concrete where the Egyptian had finally died. Then she spat on it.
The cops never did appear. Instead, a boat-load of Logan's people showed up fairly quickly. Then they set up a perimeter around Ororo's apartment building.
I gave Betsy a long, hard look.
"You didn't want reinforcements?" she asked me irritably. "Just in case the Egyptian brought some of his troops with him? Or Lehnsherr decided to show up?"
Okay, she had a point. I apologetically waved off my objections.
About a half-hour later, Logan and Hank put in an appearance.
I told Logan the whole story as he examined me with cold, hard, and rather surprised eyes. Then he looked at Laura, who was keeping to the background near Sooraya and was obviously not sure what to say to him.
They went for a walk. After they came back, Laura and Sooraya got into a car and left with Logan. I would have given anything to see his reaction to Laura's claim that she was the father of Sooraya's baby.
Emma and Betsy kept a watch on what was left of the Egyptian's body. The psychics talked a lot of mumbo-jumbo about things like "the psychic plane" and "spirit survival" and "psionic entities" and "extra-planar death", but the gist of it was that they were pretty sure the Egyptian wasn't coming back this time. However, they weren't taking any chances and I wildly approved of that. Emma suggested destroying the body in a special, high-temperature crematoria that the University used for dangerous medical specimens. Scott and Bobby liked that idea and all four of them took off to take care of it.
Ororo and Warren almost had a hell of a fight. Warren roared into the apartment scared to death and ready to take on anybody or anything. When he saw that it was all over, he started to ask Ororo some hard questions about what had happened and why she hadn't called him. It only stopped when he saw that Ororo was shivering like a frightened rabbit. She hugged him tight and he hugged her back. As near as I can tell, that was the end of the fight.
Jean and a couple of Logan's people escorted Dr. Xavier to the train station. Charles and Jean seemed delighted to see one another again. They were chatting like old friends as she helped him into a taxi.
Marie and I went home and she re-dressed the wound on my leg. We tried to eat dinner, but we weren't really hungry. Then we took a bath together and went to bed early. And we made love over and over again. I knew there would be more to the story, but just for that night I just wanted to forget everything else and be with Marie.
The next day, I went through channels and politely asked to see Erik. He agreed. We met in a small restaurant in the old German part of town. As was usually the case, he didn't have any visible bodyguards with him. I can't make up my mind if he's supremely self-confident - or has somebody or something in his corner that we can't see.
"Do you know what happened to the Egyptian?" I asked.
He put down the wine-list and nodded.
"The news of what happened was hard to miss," he said urbanely. "Dealing with him was most distasteful, and his death is a very good thing. That is why I'm buying you lunch. I recommend the sauerbraten."
The waiter stopped by and Erik ordered a bottle of wine. I waited until that was done.
"I'm checking to make sure the Laura isn't a problem," I continued. "And to make it clear that I didn't take her from you."
Erik sighed, "The exact sequence of events that led to Laura's escape are known to me. And I am aware that you were not involved."
I nodded, "Okay, I'm glad that's settled. But what about Laura?"
He put his menu down and looked at me speculatively.
"I'm not sure I catch your meaning, Domino."
"Do you still want her?"
He looked disgusted and shook his head, "No. Such a course of action at the present time would be very unwise. Frankly, I consider my involvement with Laura to have been a bit of a fiasco. I had hoped to acquire some leverage over Logan, but I should have known that the apple did not fall very far from the tree."
I chuckled, "Believe me, I know what you're talking about. She's a handful."
The waiter stopped by with a bottle of wine. He and Erik went through that formal routine where Erik decided he would accept the bottle. Then the waiter poured for us.
I took a sip from my glass. Erik had made an excellent choice. The wine was outstanding.
"So where is she from, anyway?" I asked idly. "At first, I assumed Logan was her father, but she swears that's not true."
Erik hesitated before answering, "The people who made Logan into what he is are still in business. And they are continuing in their efforts to create the perfect soldier. The details about Laura are complicated, but he is not her father, although you could say that she is related to him."
"And you bought Laura from those guys?"
He smiled, "At a bargain price. It seems they were having problems handling her."
That made me laugh.
Erik picked up the menu, "At least now she is Logan's problem."
"I feel kind of sorry for him." I said. And I meant it.
Foolish me. If I had even the faintest clue of the problem Laura was going to be in the future, I would have immediately jumped up from the table, ran to my office, grabbed Marie, and fled to the west coast.
I was walking from the restaurant to my car when a Rolls-Royce limo pulled up beside me. Two guesses who was inside.
The rear window rolled down and Emma smiled at me. "Get in," she ordered.
I shrugged and did as I was told. Hey, I owed the lady. The back of her Rolls was bigger than some apartments I've lived in. A lot posher, too. The driver was separated from us by a glass partition. A curtain that could be slid across the partition made it possible to hide whatever was going on in the back from the driver. I idly wondered how often Emma found it necessary to do that.
"Would you care for a drink?" Emma asked when she noticed that I was staring at the built-in wet-bar.
I laughed, "No thanks, Emma. I just had a few with Erik. The guy has a hollow leg. Sometimes I think he and Logan should settle their differences with a drinking contest. It would be quite a match."
Emma chuckled and shook her head.
"So what do you want?" I asked.
"I wanted to apologize," she said. "I certainly didn't intend to get you into a situation that dangerous. Actually, I rather hoped that you would let the case go once I mentioned the Egyptian."
I nodded, "I came close to doing just that, but I got curious. And..."
Then I hesitated, not sure what else to say.
"Domino, your curiousity is going to get you killed one of these days," Emma said sharply.
"Probably," I replied with a sigh, "But while you're here, there's something I've been wondering about. What was it that Erik wanted you to do? I think we can safely say that you don't owe him your silence any longer."
Emma didn't hesitate, "He wanted a psychic scan of the city. Erik was hoping I could find that very lethal young lady he'd lost."
"No luck?"
"Finding somebody that you do not know via a psychic scan is quite tricky," Emma answered. And, yeah, I noticed that she didn't quite answer my question. But just as obviously, she hadn't told Erik where to find Laura. A lot of people aren't sure where Emma fits in - is she one of the good guys or one of the bad guys? I confess to having some doubts of my own on that score. But I was willing to say that Emma had been on the right side of the street in this particular mess.
"One other thing," Emma said.
"What's that?"
"I'm considering starting a school," Emma continued.
I certainly didn't expect that. The idea of Emma as a school-teacher made me smile.
She rolled her eyes at me, "Stop that, Domino. The idea is that I'll provide the money for a special school: a school for young people who are like us. More and more people with unique abilities are appearing. And it's time somebody came up with a way of helping youngsters with special powers adapt to this world - or else more of them will end up in the hands of people like the Eqyptian."
That made me frown thoughtfully, "Okay. I see your point. But what's it to me?"
"I'll need teachers, Dom."
I laughed out loud, "Oh, come on, Emma! You can't mean me!"
"I do," Emma said flatly.
"What would I teach? Dirty fighting and gunplay?"
"You don't consider those to be important skills?" Emma replied archly.
Well... "Of course, but what about the more traditional stuff?"
Emma didn't seem put-off by my skepticism, "I'm working on that."
"Has anyone else signed on with this crazy idea?"
"So far, I've talked to three other people. They all agree that the idea has merit."
"Who are they?" I asked immediately.
"Logan, Erik, and Charles Xavier," Emma replied.
I gave Emma the raised eyebrow, "Logan and Erik have agreed to this?"
Emma nodded, her eyes narrow and calculating, "I mentioned how Laura's presence came close to starting a war between them. And how the Egyptian had managed to keep Sooraya - a fairly powerful young lady - under his thumb without anyone being the wiser. If it was understood that those sort of children were to be cared for in a neutral setting, it might prevent quite a few problems."
"You've got a point," I conceded.
"You'll consider my offer?" Emma asked.
I slowly nodded my head, "I can't promise anything right now, Emma, but... well... I think you've got a good idea here. Put me on the list of people interested in what you're trying to do."
"This isn't going to happen tomorrow," Emma sighed. "It will take some time to organize, but I'll be in touch."
I nodded again.
Over the next few days, the fallout continued. Through the grapevine, I heard that Erik and Logan had a long, long talk. A lot of people held their breath while that was going on, but nothing lethal happened and the peace held. As near as I can tell, Logan decided to ignore the fact that Erik had been trying to play games with him. Erik gritted his teeth and swallowed the losses in time and money and pride that he'd taken in bringing Laura to town - and then losing her. Personally, I wondered if Emma's crazy scheme of setting up some kind of school for kids like Sooraya and Laura had something to do with the lack of hostilities. Had Emma managed to find a point of common ground between them? And how much of that had been a part of Emma's plan all along?
A week after the Egyptian departed this mortal coil for a place with a much warmer climate, Marie and I got a very nice bonus from Logan.
"We're rich," I said to Marie. Which really wasn't true, but it sure sounded good.
Marie smiled as she tucked back a rebellious wisp of hair, "You're taking me out to dinner tonight. At a fancy place. Then we'll go for drinks and dancing. If you play your cards right, I might do something exciting and indecent to you in the car while we're driving home. So wear a skirt - and don't bother with panties."
That certainly sounded interesting. We sealed the deal with a kiss. And then Sooraya walked in the office. It occurred to me that we were going to have to start locking the damned door.
"Hello," Sooraya said, obviously she was mildly embarrassed to catch us at such a personal moment. It actually took me a second to recognize her, and her voice gave it away more than anything else. The veil was gone. Her hair was in a long ponytail and somebody had convinced her to wear a prim black dress and a pair of low heels. She looked great.
"Hey, kid," I said in surprise as Marie shook her head and stepped back from me. "Uhm... everything's okay, right? Why are you here?"
"I work here," Sooraya said as she glanced at Marie.
I blinked hard. Then I noticed that Marie was smiling.
"Marie!" I yelled.
"I'm the office manager," Marie said serenely. "So I can hire new help if we need it."
"But we don't need any help!" I protested.
That was when Marie dropped five file folders on my desk. They were case-folders. New case-folders. I dazedly picked one of them up and flipped through it.
"We helped ice the Egyptian," Marie continued. "And Logan is saying good things about us to everyone who will listen. So our credit on the street is really strong. I had to turn down two other jobs this morning - so it's time to hire somebody."
I looked through the other case-folders, reading the summaries as I went. The money looked... good. Real good.
Wow.
Then I looked at Sooraya and said warily, "What do you know about being a private eye?"
She didn't even hesitate before replying, "Nothing, but Miss Marie hired me as a secretary."
I gave "Miss Marie" a long look.
"I've had it with sitting here and chewing my nails down to nothing as you get into God knows what kinds of trouble," she declared with absolute finality. "From now on, when you're on a case, I'm with you."
I looked to heaven for guidance. No luck. And actually, there wasn't a lot to complain about. When you get down to it, Marie is just as capable on the job as I am. In some ways, maybe more.
"I can file and type and do bookkeeping," Sooraya offered helpfully. "And I speak five languages."
Then Sooraya gently touched her bulging belly, "And Mr. Logan has said he will pay for my baby when he comes. So that won't be a problem."
I nodded warily. Then a worrisome thought suddenly occured to me. "What about Laura?" I asked.
Sooraya smiled fondly, "We have a small apartment uptown and she is taking classes. Logan and I have convinced her that learning English, math, science, history, and dance will make her a better assassin."
"She's in a school!?" I gasped in horror. My stomach was turning over as I visualized the potential carnage the first time a young boy with a case of puppy-love shoved a frog into her face.
"No," Sooraya said as she shook her head, "For now, she has private tutors. Logan and I both hope she can someday have a more normal childhood, but for now..."
I nodded in relief. And suddenly, Emma's idea about a special school for - what was that word Doctor Xavier used? Mutants? - seemed like a good idea instead of a wild one.
Marie had that "I'm not budging an inch" look about her. Grudgingly giving in to the inevitable, I picked up one of the case-folders and opened it.
"Which case do you want to start with?" Marie asked.
"The Stark job," I said absently as I read the file.
"What's that?" Sooraya asked curiously.
"Tony Stark. He's a zillionaire inventor who has his fingers in a lot of pies. He wants another rich guy - a pretty-boy named Bruce Wayne - followed. Nothing specific, just regular reports on what Wayne's doing and who he's seeing."
"Yeah, that sounds like a fairly dull job," Marie inserted thoughtfully. "Probably financial espionage."
"Probably," I agreed, "but I heard on the radio that Wayne will be in town this afternoon, so this case goes to the top of the list. And a simple job like this will be a good place to start."
"Let's go!" Marie purred. There was an eager smile on her face.
I couldn't help but grin.
