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10.2: Investigators

10 p.m. Eastern Time

At the 23rd Precinct, Elisa worked her computer with grim determination. Getting into files she had no business being in, not after being assigned to the Gargoyles Task Force, but they hadn't changed her passwords yet. Matt was intent on his own work at his computer, pulling up file after file; searching for and assembling data that they'd be turning over to other hands in a few hours. Four-fingered hands; the plane with the gargoyles was due to touch down at JFK airport soon after midnight, and they'd been assured that a truck would be ready at Xanatos Enterprises' private hangar, waiting to ferry them into Manhattan.

As soon as the gargoyles reached the Aerie Building, Xanatos would call Elisa, and she would pretend that the call was 'a hot tip on a possible location for the gargoyles' and burn rubber all the way there. She knew that Matt wanted to be the one running to them with information they'd need for the search, but as the head of the GTF, his abrupt absence would be more noticeable than hers. That, and there was another reason Elisa thought it would be for the best if Matt stayed away from the Aerie Building for the rest of the night…

Two agents from the Federal Bureau of Investigations had shown up at the Aerie Building while Matt and Elisa were still there; Xanatos had told them that the Grandmaster would contact the FBI, but to get agents there so fast, the Illuminati must have more and higher connections in the Bureau than just low-level agent Martin Hacker.

Elisa knew calling the FBI in had been the right thing to do; they had more resources than the police did, even whole divisions devoted to solving kidnapping cases, and it had been standard procedure to call them in ever since the Weinberger kidnapping case back in the 50's. Elisa had learned about that case; most cops heard of it at least once in their training. The infant Peter Weinberger, kidnapped right off his family's front porch, hadn't been born to rich parents, or even moderately wealthy ones; just a middle-class family with a little nest egg, who'd still been willing to give up all their life savings in order to get their baby boy back. Back then, there had been a ruling that the FBI wasn't called in on kidnapping cases until after a full seven days had lapsed without return of the kidnapping victim. And as the authorities had found out later, by the time the seven days had passed and the FBI had been called in, the baby boy was already dead. After that, the courts had ruled that the FBI could be called in immediately on a kidnapping case; no waiting period, no jurisdiction disputes, not when what mattered most was getting the victims back alive.

The two agents who'd shown up so quickly, had assured Mr. Xanatos that four more were coming up from DC on the next available train; he'd have a team of Kidnapping & Hostage Division agents devoted to finding his wife and child and the other hostages. They'd asked for an office that they could set their equipment up in, and Xanatos told them to take their pick of any room in the lowest level of the castle. All the rooms had been wired for electricity, and the phone tap they wanted to hook up to Xanatos' cellular phone, for when the kidnapper called again, didn't have to be in the same room to tap into that particular cell frequency.

"I've been down there a time or two; I can show you the rooms that would probably be best for setting your equipment up in," Matt had offered.

"Thanks. And you are?" Agent Jasper had asked with a brief smile and his hand outstretched for a handshake.

"Sorry, I should have said earlier. Matt Bluestone," as he shook the agent's hand, then gestured in Elisa as he said, "And this is my partner in the NYPD, Elisa Maza."

Agent Jasper lost his smile, and he said slowly, "Matt Bluestone… Your reputation precedes you." While Agent Hovander, who hadn't said a word since their arrival, frowned in disgust.

For a moment, Elisa hadn't understood why they were acting like that. And then she'd remembered:

While he'd been an agent in the FBI, Matt Bluestone had devoted all the time he could spare from criminal investigations, to hunting for evidence that would help him prove the existence of the Illuminati. And he'd been good enough that Martin Hacker had gotten himself assigned as Bluestone's senior partner, in order to secretly stymie Matt's efforts.

For six years, they'd been partners. Over those six years, Matt had uncovered several possible leads in his search for the Illuminati, only to see all of them run nowhere or just disappear on him. Matt had wondered if someone else in the FBI was working to counter his efforts, but every time he'd brought up the idea, his partner had snorted and told him he was being paranoid.

Paranoid. Obsessive. Hot-tempered, unreliable, delusional… those had been the words used in the final fitness-for-duty evaluation, the one that had gotten Matt fired from the FBI. When he'd gotten too close to the truth, Martin had ruthlessly trashed his reputation and gotten him booted out of the Bureau.

If he hadn't absolutely aced all the entrance exams for the NYPD, Matt would never have been able to work in law enforcement again. And even then, he'd been kept on 'rookie' status a lot longer than any man of his experience should have been, while his superiors watched suspiciously for signs of the character flaws that had been documented for all time in his FBI personnel record. It had gotten to the point where Matt had asked that his service in the FBI be blacked out in the 'work history' section of his NYPD personnel record, and he never talked about that time with friends and coworkers. Even Elisa wouldn't have found out about his years of service in the FBI if she hadn't met Martin Hacker, when she'd gotten involved in the Silver Falcon affair.

Soon after being given membership in the Illuminati—and finding out that Martin Hacker was already a member, and what he'd been up to for all those years—Matt had gotten stinking drunk, and a belligerent enough drunk that Elisa had been forced to pretend to haul him off to the drunk tank herself, before the bartender called other cops to do it. He'd spent the ride back to his apartment cursing Martin Hacker, recalling past times and searches that had been thwarted; teaching Elisa nearly a dozen new expletives in the process.

Since then, Elisa hadn't had any reason to be around Martin Hacker or any other FBI agent. So she'd forgotten how her partner, with his tenacious and brilliantly analytical mind and his honest desire to serve Justice and help people, was viewed by the nation's largest law enforcement organization. Watching how the FBI agents had summarily dismissed Matt, all but openly scorning him, had been a decidedly unpleasant reminder.

But Matt had kept trying, clearly desperate to get involved in some way in the official efforts to find the kidnap victims, when the local police wouldn't even be informed of the crime. He'd kept trying until finally Hovander had spoken, with derision clear in his tone: "Just stick to catching gargoyles, Bluestone. Leave the criminals to us."

Fortunately, Elisa had managed to grab Matt's arm and restrain the punch he'd been about to throw. As she'd firmly led him away, she'd hissed in his ear, "He's right, let's stick to the gargoyles! Who don't have to bother with search warrants and habeas corpus, and can get into places that no one else can. But they'll need our help to know where to look!"

So they'd gone to the precinct, ostensibly to do their jobs for the Gargoyles Task Force, but really to compile lists of possible locations, and of suspects. Information from files in every department in the precinct, even tapping into the files from other precincts, using the hacker tips Lexington had once taught her.

Elisa was fairly certain that Anthony Dracon was behind the kidnapping. Even behind bars, he still ran his gang, and had the manpower and organization to pull off such an operation. It was a fact that kidnapping was still occasionally used as a fundraising activity by organized crime. And considering all the ways Dracon's gang had been thwarted by the gargoyles, it would be completely in character for Tony, or his lieutenant 'Glasses' speaking in his stead, to top off his ransom demand with a gargoyle's head.

Matt, on the other hand, was convinced that the Quarrymen were behind the kidnapping; that Oliver Grimm had casually dropped some hints into the ear of Jon Castaway or a Quarryman lieutenant, left a few high-tech items from his own corporation lying around and then ostensibly backed away, "so he could say to the Grandmaster that he didn't know anything about it. Plausible deniability; the corporate officer's favorite ploy."

"You're thinking that because the ransom demand included a gargoyle head?" Elisa had asked on their way to the precinct. "But if the public ever finds out the Quarrymen were behind this kidnapping, there goes their public support!"

"Not the Quarrymen, a Quarryman; just one or two of them, people they can toss out afterwards if they need to, just like they publicly disavowed and kicked out the guys that busted up the first P.I.T. meeting and invaded the hospital afterwards. But demanding that Xanatos bring them a gargoyle's head was probably too tempting to resist. Think about it; if he actually did it, killed one of them even to save his wife and son, that would turn the clan against him forever. The survivors would leave the castle for good… and be that much easier for the Quarrymen to pick off afterwards."

Remembering the conversation anew, Elisa frowned as she looked up from her computer and glanced over at Matt's desk. Matt was certain that Xanatos had no intention of fulfilling any ransom demands, but Elisa wasn't so sure. It hadn't been all that long ago that Xanatos had been trying to capture and cage the gargoyles, to bring them under his control. And old habits died hard… What if he really did decide to hand over a gargoyle's head? The clan would be right there in the castle come sunrise, easy prey for a man desperate to get his family back…

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When arranging the flight from New Orleans to New York on such short notice, Xanatos hadn't taken the time to find pilots and crewmen who both knew about gargoyles and accepted them. All the pilot and crew of the cargo jet had been told was that they were picking up several passengers who were not going to appear on the manifest, or in fact in front of any crew member. They would just fuel the jet and go through the preflight checks, then keep the rear entrance of the plane open and stay in the pilots' cabin until someone knocked four times on the cabin door, at which point they would take off straight for New York. And that any questions asked of their orders would result in the loss of not only that flight's bonus pay but their Christmas bonuses; any interference given to the passengers would result in the immediate loss of their jobs.

After Adam had closed and sealed the cargo door they'd come in through, Brooklyn knocked four times on the closed door to the cabin and listened intently for the voices within, hoping that once again human greed and fear would prove stronger than their curiosity. Now was definitely not the time for patiently educating total strangers on what gargoyles really were, and how they were not the slavering monsters that the Quarrymen had been depicting them as.

Adam still stood at the rear entrance, with one hand on the door handle in case of trouble. But when the rumbling engines increased their pitch and the plane slowly taxied onto the runway, he let go of the handle and went forward to claim a seat, commenting "Having a billionaire for an ally can be handy."

"Way better than having him as an enemy, that's for sure," Brooklyn said, before looking over at Lexington.

As they'd arranged beforehand, as soon as they'd boarded Lexington and Rebecca had started scurrying over every inch of the cargo compartment, looking for and disabling any cameras and microphones they could find. Now, as they also took seats, Lexington gave Brooklyn a nod. "Found two cameras and one audio pickup, all currently disabled. We should be secure now."

"Good," Brooklyn nodded back in acknowledgment.

"So we can continue our conversation from the truck," Adam said. "Which is good, because I still have several questions…"

On their way to the airport in the truck, Brooklyn had had another conversation with Xanatos; Elisa had passed on to the billionaire the number of the cell phone she'd left for Goliath and later Brooklyn's use. Xanatos had given Brooklyn the details for the flight he'd arranged, and Brooklyn had let Xanatos know how many gargoyles were coming and what supplies they would need upon arrival. Then he'd told the billionaire, "Xanatos, whether you like it or not, I'm about to tell these people exactly what Alexander and Bethany have in common; why they're so special. It might turn out to have bearing on why they were kidnapped, or why the kidnapping was successful instead of foiled by Owen's other half."

Xanatos hadn't been happy about that, and if Goliath had been there, he would have been none too happy either; Brooklyn had decided to actively disobey an order that Goliath had given several weeks ago. But Brooklyn was the acting clan leader now, and that meant making hard and unpopular decisions. Including the decision to tell the New Orleans Clan a few secrets that they'd been deliberately holding back until now, all revolving around the Xanatos family's involvement with the Fey and magic.

As Brooklyn had later explained to the others in the truck, "We hadn't told you before now because it's not really our secret to tell; it's theirs, and they asked us to not tell anyone. Which is understandable, considering the way most humans treat magic. Especially considering the fact that there are a lot of humans who think all magic is inherently evil; that only their God is supposed to have powers beyond mortal men, so anyone with magical powers must be getting them from their God's enemy, Satan. That's why you New Orleans folks have been keeping a few secrets from some of your own people, right? Yvette told me a little about your Anastasia."

When Broadway had looked mystified, Brooklyn had said as an aside, "Broadway, Adam can explain that to you later if he feels like it. Anyway, the people coming up to New York to stay would have been told the full truth once they were settled in, but I wouldn't be saying any of this to you now if not for the kidnapping. Because the kidnappers got through or bypassed the family's magical defenses, which means they probably know about the magic somehow, and possibly even have their own magic-wielder. It's possible that they don't know about the magic at all, that they just shot Owen in the head with a sniper-rifle or something before he'd realized there was a threat to Alex, but if they do know… So I decided that all of you had better know about it too."

And explaining just how the Xanatos family was involved with magic meant telling the full truth about their history with the Xanatos family. Which was very different from the heavily edited and distorted history that they'd given the P.I.T. and the New Orleans Clan, though at least they'd told the other gargoyles the truth about Demona's immortality.

Adam had not been pleased to discover how much his clan his clan had been lied to or kept in the dark about, though he'd grudgingly admitted that his clan had their own secrets, and for much the same reasons. His pressing Brooklyn, Lexington and Broadway for further details on the true version of the clan's recent history, and on the abilities their human clan members and allies possessed, had taken so long that they'd arrived at the airport before getting around to discussing Fey weaknesses. Now Adam asked, "Is it true that they're vulnerable to cold iron? Our Anastasia never had a problem with that."

"Then your Anastasia had mortal magic; the kind that most humans and gargoyles with magical talent can wield," Brooklyn responded. "Fey magic is different."

"Like AM versus FM radio waves," Lexington tossed into the conversation. "They're both radio, but with different characteristics and capabilities, used by different circuits and systems."

"Uhh, if you say so, Lex." Brooklyn continued, "Anyway, they have different weaknesses too. And the Fey definitely have a problem with iron; not only can they not cast a spell through it, but they can't touch it directly without getting burned. Even the sound of an iron bell hurts them. We once took out Puck with nothing but an empty steel garbage can; Hudson slammed it down over him while he was distracted, and that put an end to the fight, especially after he gave it a whack with his sword to make it ring. Puck went out cold at the ringing, and didn't wake up for nearly a half-hour afterwards; not until we'd almost finished lugging him and Demona up to the top of a building, to make them reverse the spells Puck had cast on the entire city. Fox doesn't have a problem with iron at all, or at least not that we've ever noticed, but other than that one time she's never used her magic, either. So, if Puck—that is, Owen Burnett--is still alive, he's probably thoroughly bound by iron right now. But honestly, I think that's a pretty damn big if."

Broadway asked, "Why do you say that?"

"Because the first rule of any battle where magic's involved is, take out the magic user. Don't give him a chance to use any offensive magic against you, or do anything to bolster his side's defenses. Sometimes that's easy, if you have an inside man. Angela told us the humans' side of the massacre at Castle Wyvern, what her guardians told her had happened during the day; they had a Magus and a Grimorum full of defensive spells, but the Captain of the Guard who betrayed us all, slipped something into the Magus's morning drink. He fell asleep right there at the table and was out like a light for hours, sleeping right through the whole castle falling to the Vikings. Anyway, if you don't have someone on the inside like that, then you have to hit hard and fast, surprise them and take out the magic-user by force before he can cast a spell against you. And frankly, it's a lot easier to take someone out permanently by killing them, than it is to take them out but keep them alive."

"True enough," Adam nodded soberly. "We don't let anyone go out on patrol until they've proven to their trainers that they can remember to pull their punches even in the middle of frenzied combat."

"Yeah, we had to start being extra-careful too, after we woke up in New York. But the rule for fighting magic-users goes pretty much double where Puck is concerned; he's one of the Fey's greatest Tricksters. He'd defend Alexander from bad guys even if he wasn't genuinely fond of the kid, because it gives him an excuse to cut loose and use his magic. The first time the Quarrymen came to attack to castle by day while we were sleeping, Puck decided they were a threat to Alexander too, so he turned the lot of them into pigeons. And as a Trickster, he's a firm believer in 'don't get mad, get even'. Any criminal who'd take him out of action but keep him alive, is just begging to be turned into something disgusting later."

"So… in our search, we should assume he's… gone, and just concentrate on finding the kids and their moms?" Broadway gnawed on his bottom lip, clearly not happy with the notion.

Brooklyn sighed and ran his talons roughly through his mane, looking at the floor. "Yeah, that's pretty much the operating assumption. Understand, I'm not giving up on him, not at all saying that we should just forget about him; I may not trust the Puck in either form, any farther than I can spit, but he's an ally and sworn to protect Alexander. If we find any evidence that he's still alive, we'll do everything we can to get him back too. But our priority has to be the kids, and their mothers."

Isabel rested a comforting hand on her mate's shoulder. "We'll find them, Brooklyn. We've actually done this a few times before, down in New Orleans; searched for children who'd been kidnapped for one reason or another. We found almost all of them, even one toddler who'd been left by his kidnappers to die in the bayou. We found them, and we'll find your people too."

"Thanks," Brooklyn told her, drawing comfort from her presence and her reassurance. Drawing comfort, and trying hard to draw more hope as well. But New York was so much bigger than New Orleans; there was a lot more ground to cover in their search…

Midnight

Far below the streets of Manhattan, Heinrich swallowed hard and determinedly told himself to go just a little further. Just a little further down the unlit tunnel, surrounded by Stygian blackness and walls that weren't really closing in on him (yes they were!), not really; it was just his overactive imagination. He was not in any danger (except for being buried alive!), and he could go just a little further down the tunnel before turning back, to return to the blessed open sky. Just a little further, in hopes of catching Malibu's scent once more…

A scent-trail he'd lost four nights ago. Malibu's trail had ended at the edge of an underground stream, a storm-drain carrying melted snow and slush away from the city streets. Through the faint light reflecting in the water, light that had filtered in from a grating some distance away from the tunnel Heinrich had been standing in, he'd seen no less than six other tunnels with trickles or streams of water feeding into the larger stream. Malibu must have crossed into one of those tunnels, but Heinrich had checked all six of them and found no trace of his scent at the mouth of any of them; the water from the stream must have washed his feet too clean.

But he kept searching regardless. The gargoyle community that Malibu had come from lived somewhere down here, and he had to find them! His family back in Germany was counting on him to make contact with the local gargoyles; to forge an alliance with them, and to give his nephew Gregor playmates from his own species and hope for his future.

Just a little further, he told himself. Just another hundred yards, he could do that much… and then he would allow himself to retreat, back to the nearest opening to street level so he could take to the blessedly open sky again. Just a little further…

A scrabbling sound came from directly in front of him, and he almost jumped right out of his skin. Lieber Gott, what monster was down here in the dark with him?

His nose told him what it was, as soon as he stopped panicking like an idiot. A rat; he'd nearly run screaming away from a stupid sewer rat!

He killed the rat a little more violently than necessary, in anger fueled by self-disgust. This was not a good night so far…

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So far, this was turning into a most excellent night.

While taking a break from the work he'd been doing for the last few hours, Thailog congratulated himself on an operation both planned well and executed well. It was worth all the trouble it had taken to get up to this point: building two solid steel cells in his warehouse, and equipping one of the cells with a few extras; rigging a monitoring and communication system for each cell and the rest of the warehouse; stealing a large delivery truck, tinting the windows and teaching himself how to drive it; and finally, kidnapping the child of a Xanatos Enterprises mechanic, and using his hostage to force the father to modify each of Xanatos' limousines to Thailog's specifications.

Mr. Frank Lewis had done excellent work before he'd died, and joined his son at the bottom of the river. The microphones and radio transmitters planted in each limousine had told Thailog when all his targets were in one vehicle together, and the GPS locator had told him exactly where they were. Once he'd driven into position behind them in the truck, the touch of a button on his remote had opened the anesthetic gas capsule planted in the limousine's dashboard, rendering the car's occupants unconscious within seconds. And a touch of another button had overridden the car's onboard computer, giving orders to come to a complete stop and turn off everything but the hazard lights.

Then it had been simply a matter of waiting for traffic to clear enough for Thailog to pull the truck around in front of the limo, get out and simply heave the car into the cargo hold of the truck without being unduly noticed. And the traffic had been surprisingly light for the time of evening; in less than two minutes a window of opportunity had formed, the one-way street clearing of traffic for a block in either direction, giving him the seconds he'd needed to pick up the limo and make his getaway. Two months of preparation followed by flawless execution, and now Stage One was accomplished and Stage Two of his plan was in full effect.

Really, it had surprised him to find his window of opportunity so quickly. He'd thought that he might have to wait several weeks before he could get all his targets—Fox Xanatos, Alexander Xanatos and Owen Burnett—in one vehicle together. And there'd been no bother of having David Xanatos along for the ride; no having to leave his 'father' some place that wouldn't lead back to him, so Xanatos would be free to come up with the ransom money. Instead, the extra passengers had been the Xanatos family's nanny, and the nanny's own daughter. And even while driving to intercept the limousine, Thailog had found a way to work the extras into his plan, and derive even more profit from their presence.

His original plan had been to hold both Fox and Alexander Xanatos for ransom, giving David Xanatos a week to come up with one hundred million dollars and the head of a gargoyle, then kill them both as soon as the ransom had been paid.. But now that he had a nanny to take care of the baby, he had a new plan. Instead of killing the woman and baby after receiving his money, he'd let Fox go, gassing her unconscious before dropping her off in some public place that was momentarily deserted. Then he'd tell David Xanatos that the first hundred million had bought his wife's safe return, but he'd have to come up with another hundred million in order to see his son again.

Not that he had any intention of letting the infant live, of course. He was Xanatos' firstborn, the child of his mind, and no one else would ever be allowed to take his rightful place as heir to the Xanatos fortune. But if he kept the nanny alive and with the baby when Fox was released, then Xanatos would believe he did intend to keep the child alive and well until the ransom was paid. Xanatos would desperately believe that, and bankrupt his own corporation to come up with the rest of the money.

…And another gargoyle head, of course. He made a mental note to ask for another of those as well. Not that Thailog had any burning desire to mount a second gargoyle's head over his mantle, but since he'd asked for one in the first ransom call, he might as well be consistent. And really, his operations could only benefit from having fewer of Goliath's clan to deal with in the future.

He was quite hopeful that the first head Xanatos would offer up as ransom payment would be Goliath's own, but that wasn't strictly necessary for his purposes. Which were twofold, the first being to drive a deep wedge between Xanatos and Goliath's clan. He'd been quite annoyed to find out from news reports that Xanatos was now actively aiding the gargoyles, giving them shelter, no doubt in return for their aid in some business dealings that required discreet work in the shadows. It was never good when one's rivals decided to team up, instead of fighting each other and saving him the work. But having Xanatos sacrifice one or two of them in return for his wife and son, would surely put an end to whatever alliance they had. The second purpose, of course, was to make them think that the kidnapper was a Quarryman or some other character who hated gargoyles on principle, instead of a gargoyle himself. Not that Thailog ever really thought of himself as a gargoyle; instead, he thought of himself as a businessman who currently happened to turn to stone during the day.

Then once the second ransom was paid, Thailog would get out of the kidnapping business altogether. He already knew which part of Battery Park he would deliver the corpses of the nanny and the brat to, by a route that provided excellent cover for anonymous dropoffs; it would be for the best if no one ever found out he was behind all this. And at the thought of the chosen site, he firmly suppressed once more the idea of rigging a tree near the corpses with a remote camera. It would be delightful to see the billionaire's face when the police called him to the scene, but if anyone found the camera before he could retrieve it, and had the bright idea of tracing the remote signals back to his lair… no, the payoff wasn't worth the risk.

He hadn't quite decided how to dispose of the nanny's daughter yet. He wasn't one to waste resources, and simply killing her with her mother and the Xanatos baby seemed a bit wasteful. Surely there was a way to make money off of her, with a little effort.

One of the men he'd killed while moving from apartment to apartment had been a pedophile; Thailog had found quite the collection stashed under the bed, and chuckled over his find before throwing the photos and printouts away. He had no doubt there was a pedophile ring operating somewhere in the city; if he could contact them and let them know he had a little girl for sale, to use as they pleased, surely she'd net him a few thousand dollars more.

But that could wait for another night. Tonight he had more important work to do, and it was time he returned to it. Setting his drink aside, Thailog cracked his knuckles and grinned in anticipation.

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By the time the gargoyles had arrived at the castle, all the supplies Brooklyn had earlier suggested that Xanatos obtain for them were there. Lexington and Rebecca started ripping open packages while several other gargoyles accepted and passed around a series of pictures, and items of clothing. Pictures of the missing people, taken down from the walls or printed out from security camera images stored in the computer system. And items of clothing that had been recently worn and not washed yet; a rice-cereal-stained onesie from Alexander's laundry hamper, pajamas that Bethany had worn the night before, her mother Anne's nightgown, one of Fox's brassieres, an undershirt that belonged to Owen. All the items were grimly sniffed so the New Orleans gargoyles would know the kidnap victims' scents, and the photos were intensely scrutinized.

While the others were busy, Brooklyn asked Xanatos if there'd been any developments in the case since their last phone conversation. Xanatos told them about the team of FBI agents, now numbering six, that were operating out of a room converted to office space in the castle's lowest level. Xanatos had not informed the agents of the gargoyles' return to the castle, and Brooklyn decided that for the moment that was a good thing. They didn't know how the agents personally felt about gargoyles, and trying to work with someone who considered you a monster or dangerous beast was usually more trouble than it was worth. "Is the agents' room wired for sound and video, so we can learn what they learn?" Brooklyn asked, remembering how the castle's dungeon on the same level had been wired for monitoring their prisoner, Broadway's would-be assassin.

Xanatos nodded. "And the phone line for that room can be monitored as well, all from the internal security room. Though I don't have the equipment installed here for tapping into their cell phones."

"So we'll work with what we can get," Brooklyn said decisively. "Martha, that'll be your task. You watch and listen in on everything they do and say, and report to us everysolid lead they uncover. We'll probably be able to act on those leads faster than they can." Monitoring the FBI would give Martha, a definite non-combatant, something to do so she could feel useful… and might actually be very useful, if the agents uncovered any real leads.

Martha nodded somberly, while Broadway looked fretful; probably wondering if he was going to be given some other job that would keep him in the castle. But Brooklyn had already decided that even with his crippled wing, Broadway was too valuable to keep sidelined; of the fifteen gargoyles currently in New York, only three of them were really familiar with the city's streets and landmarks. Broadway would be needed to lead one of the search parties, even if he slowed them down somewhat. So Brooklyn continued, "Now let's do something about the ransom demands."

"Could you actually come up with a hundred million dollars?" Rebecca asked Xanatos curiously.

"If necessary, yes. But one thing every rich man learns is to never actually give in to ransom demands; it only encourages other kidnapping attempts," Xanatos said grimly.

"You can pay the Danegeld, but it won't get rid of the Danes," Brooklyn agreed; that had been common wisdom in the age he'd grown up in. "But one thing those Danish Vikings never demanded of Castle Wyvern was a gargoyle's head on a platter."

"A WHAT?!" as every other gargoyle in the room stared wide-eyed at Brooklyn, then at Xanatos, then back at Brooklyn again with eyes narrowing. "You didn't mention that little detail to us before," Adam said through clenched teeth.

"Didn't figure I needed to," Brooklyn lied, knowing well that he'd avoided saying so only to put off their current level of upset as long as possible. Especially since he'd already decided how to deal with it. "Because it's a detail we can just take care of, here and now."

"And just how do you propose to do that?" Adam asked very carefully, his wings flaring while a few of his clan members flexed their talons.

"Like this," as Brooklyn walked over to a shelf not far from Hudson's easy chair. And came back cradling in his arms a stone head that looked just like Hudson's, down to the last facial ridge. "Hudson might be annoyed at losing his souvenir, but he'll agree it's for a good cause."

"Oh yeah; I'd nearly forgotten about that!" Broadway grinned.

"How did you get that? What's it a souvenir of?" Martha asked curiously.

"Long story, for another time. Anyway, Xanatos, there's got to be a silver platter somewhere in this castle; find one, and you can set this out in a public place sometime after sunrise. It should make the kidnappers think you're giving in to their demands, so they'll get more complacent, and hopefully easier for us to smoke out."

"Thank you," Xanatos said almost humbly as he accepted the stone head. Just before the intercom buzzed, and the front desk security guard announced that Detective Maza had just entered the building and was on her way up to the castle.

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"I've got names and last known addresses, and other locations," Elisa announced as she walked into the room, brandishing a sheaf of computer printouts. "Xanatos, you got everything else?"

Xanatos pointed to a nearby table, on which rested two crates stenciled with what looked like military designations, and several smaller boxes with the names of various electronics stores on them; boxes that Lexington and Rebecca were already ripping open, installing batteries into the enclosed devices and fiddling with settings. "The last box arrived by special courier an hour ago. Right now they're activating the dozen GPS locators, and the two dozen two-way radios. I was assured the radios are powerful enough to reach across Manhattan; they're designed to operate in pairs, but they can all be tuned to a common frequency."

"Two frequency settings," Lexington said without looking up from the work he was doing on a radio with a jeweler's screwdriver. "One we'll use for general broadcast to all teams, and for Martha to pass along any clues she gets from listening in on the FBI. The other will be left for communicating between pairs, to cut down on interfering chatter from other teams."

"Let's see those lists, Elisa," Brooklyn said as he held his hand out. "Xanatos already gave us some information we can use, but we'll need yours too if we're going to pull off tonight's operation."

Elisa eyed him curiously as he handed over the lists. "And that would be…?"

"A plan we came up with on our way up here. I hadn't told everyone about the ransom demand including a gargoyle's head—which we've already taken care of, by the way; remember Hudson's souvenir?" as Brooklyn pointed to the stone head lying on a table nearby. At the sight of the head, Elisa let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. She silently blessed Hudson's occasional liking for souvenirs, and vowed that when Hudson returned from Avalon, she would have an official 'Celebrity Hockey' jersey gift-wrapped and ready for him. Then she refocused, because Brooklyn was still talking: "Anyway, I had told them that I suspect the Quarrymen are behind this."

"Or Tony Dracon," Elisa instantly responded. "Remember, he's been thwarted by the clan often enough that he's already got a bounty out for a gargoyle's head."

"And if what we do tonight doesn't help get our people back, we'll go after his gang next. But here's what we have planned…"

Next: Quarry