Authors' Note: Hurray for the Two Towers, and boo for snow storms. The three intrepid authors and one beta managed to get to the movie, but didn't get to wear their pretty dresses, as St.John's is in the grips of a bloody awful snowstorm. Our two beta's and Eirual's Mum make cameos in this chapter. So does Sun Queen and Ivory Moon's Mum.
Enjoy the chapter, and the next up-date is on Sunday.
The Nightrunners
Webs of Treachery, Deceit and Outright Lies
Soundtrack: Before I'm Dead (Kidney Thieves)
Moon hangs around
A blade over my head
Reminds me what to do before I'm dead
Night consumes light
And all I dread
Reminds me what to do before I'm dead
The sun reclines
Eats my mind
Reminds me what to leave behind
Light eats night
And all I never said
Reminds me what to do before I''m……
To see you
To touch you
To see you
To touch you
Epochs fly, reminds me
What I hide, reminds me
The desert skies
Cracks the spies
Reminds me what I never tried
The ocean wide salted red
Reminds me what to do before I''m……
To see you
To touch you
To feel you
To tell you
The sun reclines - remind me
The desert skies - remind me
The ocean wide salted red
Reminds me what to do before I''m……
The John F. Kennedy International Airport was huge. I'd been there once, but it had been decades before the war, when a girl and I had once spent a weekend in New York. Her name was Pauline. She had red hair and a nice laugh. She's probably dead now.
So there I was, hurrying through the press of people, the two cops following close. The voices of the multitudes rose and filled the massive marble-tiled room, punctuated occasionally by the low, static rumble of the loudspeaker. Huge newscreens constantly flashed bytes of glowing red information: Flight 34509 to London from Gate 124 delayed by 50 minutes due to technical problems, Flight 78493 to Bangkok from Gate 72 now boarding... High overhead, morning sunlight streamed through the arched atrium windows.
"Your attention please." A woman's bland voice called over the general noise; the loudspeaker system crackled with static. More work for the electricians today. "All flights to and from Pearson International Airport, Toronto, are cancelled until further notice due to a rogue mage attack. If you'd care to make an alternate booking, please see your nearest ticket agent."
"Look." Alice nudged my shoulder. "Gabe, the hobbits, and the little stowaway. Next to the security guard, two o'clock."
The ex-dwarf appeared to be having a rather spirited discussion with an agitated security guard. I broke into a run, waving Adam and Alice to follow; this had the potential to get messy.
As we approached, I caught the gist of the conversation: "...Mr. Gleason...weapons...regulations!"
Gabe's reply, which I didn't catch, was quite probably obscene.
Before I had a chance to open my mouth, Adam stepped in. In his jeans and leather bomber jacket he looked pretty ordinary, but his demeanor screamed 'officer-of-the-law: obey-or-die'. "Is there a problem, sir?" he asked smoothly.
The security guard had started to splutter. "The *problem*, sir, is that Mister Gleason here is carrying an arsenal of *highly* illegal weaponry, as are his travelling companions! This will *have* to confiscated, and you'll be escorted to speak with the head of security--"
Adam interrupted "That will *not* be necessary, Mister..." he checked the man's name tag, "...Clifford. This is Professor Gleason, a highly-respected weapons research scientist. He will be travelling to Washington, D.C today on a private flight. Pentagon business." Adam's voice dropped slightly, becoming steely. He flashed his badge. "Adam Gordon, NYPD. My partner and I will be escorting Professor Gleason, along with his daughter, his research assistant Dr. Green, and his bodyguards."
Somehow, I managed to keep a straight face. Behind Gabe, the four rockers straightened and adopted the scowls they'd often seen on the faces of club bouncers.
Adam smiled. It wasn't a nice smile. In fact, it looked downright predatory. "Now, Mister Clifford, I honestly don't want to have to drag your supervisor into this mess. Professor Gleason is already late, and any more delays will reflect poorly on this airport's security force." Suddenly, Adam's voice warmed, his smile becoming somewhat more charming. "I know that you're just doing your job, and I commend you for it. This city needs more security workers as conscientious as you. But your job is to stop those who are here to cause trouble, not government professionals."
Trish picked this moment to add her own two cents. Looking like a bored child who'd been tuning in and out of the conversation, she started pulling on her *dad's* arm. "C'mon, Daddy, I want to go! We're gonna be *late*!" She stared up with teary eyes.
Woah. This kid was *good*.
The security guard looked torn. It suddenly occurred to me that Gabe probably didn't *have* permits for any of his 'highly illegal weapons'. "Well...okay, go on. I'm sorry to have bothered you, sir." He tried a smile. "Make sure you present your weapon permits at the security checkpoints."
"Of course." Adam smiled back. "These have to be packed and prepared for transport, anyway."
The hobbits scowled and Trish flashed a beaming grin. "Bye!"
As we moved away, I caught up to Adam. "That was an amazing performance. You actually came up with a credible reason for carrying enough weaponry to occupy a small European country."
Adam grimaced. "Well, I've already come to the conclusion that you're all mad, so I figure, hey, what the hell, when in Rome..."
He trailed off. A look of horror suddenly crossed his face. "What's the matter?" I asked.
"I haven't called my boss yet."
I left him to formulate another story for his captain. I walked up to Gimli, and asked, sotto voce, "Gabe...are you actually *licensed* to carry any of this?"
"Well..." Gimli switched to what I immediately recognized as 'evasive mode'. Shit. "Technically, yes, but all my permits are sealed and classified and buried under a small mountain of red tape. If I tried to use any of them, it would set off a quite a few screaming alarms, which would draw a rather *large* amount of unwanted attention, and that would be *bad*, wouldn't it?"
"Gabe...what exactly have you been *doing* for the past fifteen years?"
Gimli opened his mouth to answer, but I cut him off. "Never mind. I *really* don't want to know."
We rode two escalators to the open, higher levels. Up here, the marble floor became cheaper, worn tile, but the sunlight was dazzling. Hundreds of people flowed past us, running, walking, shouting, carting baggage, talking to each other and to their cell phones.
Our little group ducked into the shelter of a large pillar. Momentarily free of the crush of people, Adam, Alice, and the hobbits quickly rearranged their weaponry. I had to hand it to them, they demonstrated remarkable comprehension of human nature. Displaying weapons openly in belt and shoulder holsters, they presented the image of people who were *supposed* to be carrying assorted guns and knives. Try to hide it, and the security guards would be on us like a pack of wargs.
I tucked my gun into the inside pocket of my coat, motioning Gabe to do the same. After all, it wouldn't do to have Professor Gleason and 'Dr. Green' sporting nasty-looking automatics.
Well, not in obvious places, at least...
Behind me, Adam leaned against the pillar and took a deep breath. The hobbits turned and watched in amusement as he dialed his cell phone and held it to his ear. I heard a tiny voice answer at the other end. "NYPD Precinct One-One-One, can I help you?"
"Brenda, hey, it's Adam. Punch me through to the captain, please."
"Adam?" I heard laughter crackling at the other end. "Are you sure you want me to do that? You're definitely in the doghouse, Officer Gordon. At least your partner took sick leave. The captain's ready to rip you apart. She's had the Seers trying to get a read on you. I think they mistook you for your neighbour's cat, 'cause you were apparently out back of your building, ripping up the dumpster."
I watched Adam smile. It looked painful. "Brenda, darling, just punch me through, okay? I have to talk to the captain, it's kind of important."
"Will do, Adam. Send me an invite to your funeral, and make sure you provide finger sandwiches, ok?"
The line beeped rhythmically, then a no-nonsense female voice answered.
"Yes?"
Ooh. Good luck charming *this* one, Officer Gordon.
"Hello, Captain." Adam looked a bit twitchy, but you couldn't tell from his voice. Smooth.
"Gordon?! Where the*hell* have you been?! You don't show up for your shifts, you don't call, you don't answer the phone, your apartment's empty---"
This little diatribe continued for some time. Adam winced occasionally as certain words were punctuated by an octave jump. "Well, I've been at Alice's apartment---"
The look of horror that dawned on every face suddenly made Adam realize exactly how *that* little comment might be construed. He jumped back into the conversation. "I've been sick. Really sick, and my apartment's being fumigated, so Starr let me stay with her--"
Beside him, Mark was miming a shovelling motion. Sam smacked him upside the head.
"Sick?" The voice was suspicious. I was beginning to think Adam and Alice's captain had missed her true calling as an elementary school teacher.
Adam summoned a decent-sounding cough. "Yeah, I meant to call, but I've spent most of my time out cold in bed..."
Well, *that* was certainly true. Adam could apparently lie like a champion when he put his mind to it.
The suspicion was starting to dissolve into concern. "Have you been to the med clinic?"
"Yeah, I'm fine, it's just a mild case of..." Adam appeared to be wracking his brain. He threw us a desperate glance.
"Syphilis!" interjected Peter.
"Syphilis." Adam repeated, his expression switching to one of dismay when he realized *exactly* what he had said. Beside me, Arwen looked as though she would die laughing; she had her fist lodged in her mouth, and was wheezing with suppressed mirth.
"What about scurvy?" suggested Felix.
Adam threw them a death glare as the voice at the other end said, "*What?!*"
Well, this was certainly one of the more entertaining conversations I'd ever heard.
"Sorry, I meant viral flu." said Adam, still looking as though he wanted to throw the phone away and strangle Pippin. "The doc gave me some painkillers. I'm a bit loopy."
"Oh, okay." The captain didn't quite sound convinced. "Well, take a few days off, and call in when you're feeling better."
"Thanks captain. I'm really sorry I didn't call."
"It's okay, Adam. I'll assign Duggan and Dunsmore your case files for the next week or so. You and Alice both sound like you'll be out for a while."
"Yeah," Adam said, throwing a grin at his partner. "She needs the downtime as much as I do."
"Alright, Adam." I noticed the voice had mellowed considerably. "I'll talk to you later. Hope you feel better soon."
"Later, captain." Adam snapped the phone shut, and Alice collapsed on the floor, shaking with laughter.
Adam hooked an arm through hers and pulled her to her feet. She hung off his shoulders, tears streaming down her face. "Syphilis!" she managed to say, which sent her into another round of laughter. The ex-hobbits looked as though they'd explode, but were obviously reluctant as Adam's expression was shifting into homicidal.
Still laughing, we moved out from behind the pillar, headed towards Gate 54. Perhaps it was the general merriment that allowed them to creep up on us...
************
The lights, high overhead, suddenly began to flicker irregularly. With all the natural light, I didn't notice until-
"Gabe! Behind you!"
Almost too fast to follow, he whipped around, drawing his gun as he did so. His eyes widened as he realized exactly what I had warned him of.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Trish said calmly. A ball of murderous-looking black energy hovered above her palm. She gestured at Felix and the loathsome magic ball roiled ever-so-slightly towards him. "Drop your gun, Gimli son of Gloin. You fire, and your friend dies."