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10.3: QUARRY
The two Quarrymen had been in the air for nearly two hours already, slowly patrolling their assigned area; looking high and low for gargoyles, while watching each other's backs. They'd been patrolling together on hovercycles for over a month now…which meant they'd lasted longer at this duty than nearly anyone else.
Stanford and Copeland were acutely aware of how dangerous their duties were, and for more reasons than just the all-encompassing waivers they'd signed, absolving the Quarrymen from liability for any injury or fatality, before undergoing training. So far the Quarrymen had gone through seven hovercycles, and nearly as many riders. Two cycles had been wrecked in training by hotshot idiots, before Mr. Grimm's trainers had whipped up a simulator program and forbidden anyone to even sit on a real hovercycle until after logging 50 hours in the simulator. The rest had been wrecked in the line of duty, hunting and fighting gargoyles.
At the family holiday party last weekend, Stanford had gotten into an argument with his brother-in-law, who'd said flat-out that he was crazy to keep riding a hovercycle for the Quarrymen, after all those fatalities and everything else that had been reported in the newspapers. "Why do you keep risking your damnfool neck like that?"
"If not me, then who?" Stanford had quoted, then continued, "Seriously, who else is going to do it? It's been three months since we found out about the gargoyles preying on our city, and all the mayor's been able to do is create a 'Gargoyles Task Force' that's nothing but a bad joke; the cops haven't brought down a single gargoyle yet! And there've been, cripes, I don't know how many letters and phone calls to the governor by everybody from the mayor on down, but the governor still hasn't called in the Army to exterminate them, or even the National Guard! This is just what the Second Amendment is for; when the government can't or won't protect us, it's up to us to defend ourselves and our neighbors. But even the citizens licensed to carry weapons can't do more than hope their alarm systems wake them up so they can squeeze off a shot at the gargoyles breaking in through their windows, before the monsters get to their kids. The Quarrymen do what they have to do, to take out the gargoyles before they get into people's homes."
That had sounded noble enough that Stanford hadn't needed to mention the other reason he flew a hovercycle; that while most members of the Quarrymen were unpaid volunteers, those who were selected and trained to be active patrolling members got paid for their patrol hours, and hovercycle riders got paid three times more than anyone else did. He made more money three nights a week hunting for gargoyles, than he did from two weeks of working his regular job.
Not being an idiot, Stanford had taken some of the money he'd been paid and put a limited-term life insurance policy on himself, for $500,000. If he did end up getting killed by the monsters he was hunting, his family would be taken care of financially, at least.
And for the last hour or so, he'd been having the bad feeling that his wife would be cashing in that policy soon. He couldn't say why he had that feeling; so far tonight had been less active than most. Other patrol nights, they'd been chasing reports phoned in about gargoyles only to come upon empty streets, skies and perches, time and time again. Tonight, not a single false report so far. Everything was quiet… too quiet…
His radio headset crackled in his ear. Copeland called to ask, "Anything? Seen any gravel deposits, even?"
"Negative," he said tersely.
"…Don't suppose they up and went south for the winter?"
Stanford snorted. "We should be so lucky."
"Two-hour mark. Break?" Copeland asked.
Stanford considered it. Patrols were allowed and even encouraged to take a five-minute break every hour; to dismount from the hovercycles, drink some coffee, and stretch their legs and other joints that were apt to stiffen from the cold. As increasingly tense as he was feeling, he didn't want to take a break right now… but that probably meant he really needed one. Tension tired a man out faster, and there were still two hours left on their patrol. "Break. On the corner rooftop, one o'clock low."
They both headed for the rooftop, Copeland arriving first; he'd set his hovercycle to idle, dismounted and already gotten his coffee thermos out by the time Stanford settled down, facing his hovercycle in the other direction to keep watch for anything approaching from behind. Copeland peeled his hood back from his face, to give him a raised eyebrow. "Bad feeling?"
"Yup. You?" as Stanford set his cycle to idle, stepped off and peeled his hood back as well.
"Nope; not till now, anyway. What is it?" as Copeland poured them both coffee.
Stanford shook his head in frustration, unable to explain it. "Just… gut instinct. It's too quiet tonight; something's going to break soon."
"Calm before the storm," Copeland mused, then took a drink of his coffee before holding out a paper sack. "So you should get some extra fuel in you before we head up again. Here, take some; my Susie's gone overboard on the holiday baking again, and we've got ginger snaps galore."
Almost despite himself, Stanford smiled; ginger snaps were his favorite. "Tell her thanks for me," he said as he took off a glove, then reached into the proffered sack to snag some cookies.
…Much later, Stanford decided in retrospect that he shouldn't have taken his eyes off the sky for anything, even ginger snaps.
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The gargoyles had been tracking those hovercycles from on high for the past ten minutes, waiting for them to take a break. And it had taken less than twenty minutes to find the two hovercycles in all of Manhattan, thanks to the information they'd been given by Xanatos.
The people driving the hologram-projecting vans that Xanatos had deployed throughout Manhattan for the last month, had done more than they'd been hired for. First, on their own initiative and with some other equipment on loan from R&D, they'd managed to tap into the Quarrymen's radio communication network, so they could be sure their holograms were shut off and their vans well away before any Quarrymen could arrive and spot them. And while monitoring the communications, they'd determined the patterns to the Quarrymen's patrols, both in the vans and on the hovercycles. Which teams patrolled which area of the city, what call signs they used on their radio channels, when they changed shifts, and how often they took breaks while on patrol.
The leader of the projection team had given their compiled information to Xanatos last week, and earned a hefty Christmas bonus for his people as a result. As he watched the two Quarrymen land their hovercycles on a rooftop and dismount, Brooklyn decided that those projection team people would each get a personal thank-you note from the clan as well.
"Now," he hissed to the black form gliding off to his left, but she was already diving down. Rebecca, sprayed head to toe with black body paint to keep humans from spotting her golden hide against the night sky, was being impulsive again. Brooklyn bit back a curse as he folded his wings, spilling air to follow her down in a steep dive, while vowing to have a hard talk with her later; warriors who 'jumped the gun' in a battle were apt to find themselves looking right down the barrel! But that was for later; right now, they had only seconds to accomplish their mission.
They dove with no sound other than the wind shrieking past their wings; none of the traditional roaring that warriors did in combat, to frighten their foes. For this, speed and silence were essential.
The wind ripped away the headset he'd been wearing, to monitor the Quarrymen's radio communications. Then it ripped off the black bandana Brooklyn had tied over his white mane to conceal it, but he ignored that loss as well. Down 100 feet, then 200… Their quarry, the Quarrymen, still hadn't looked up; they were focused on a small paper bag that one of them was holding out. Down, down—pull out! Just as the one with his hand in the bag looked up (probably alerted by the sound of the wind whistling past them), Brooklyn snapped his wings out, grimly accepting the pain of straining joints as he braked hard and changed his glide plane from a steep dive to a nearly horizontal swoop, straight at their targets. Hit 'em! Before the Quarrymen could do more than shout in alarm, he and Rebecca hit them together, tackling them away from their hovercycles and sending them sprawling nearly halfway across the roof.
Owwww. Stone sleep, please. Right away, Brooklyn's wings, back and shoulders pleaded, but he ignored the pain as he got up from where he'd landed atop the Quarryman and cocked a fist to punch out his opponent. And lowered it, after realizing that the impact of collision had already knocked the man out cold. He looked over to his left, where Rebecca and her opponent had landed. Either that other guy was a whole lot tougher, or Rebecca had braked too hard when pulling out of the dive and hit with insufficient impact, because her guy was still awake and drawing breath to shout again—wham!—no, make that had been awake. He was definitely out cold now, and Rebecca was growling over him, her eyes glimmering red and her fist cocked to hit him again.
"That's enough, Rebecca," Brooklyn said sharply before she could strike again. "Remember, these guys have been conned by Jon Castaway into thinking we're the bad guys. Let's not prove him right by hitting someone already down."
"Pardon me if I happen to take getting shot kinda personally," Rebecca snarled without looking at him. Only then did Brooklyn remember what he'd once been told; that the night before she'd met them, while searching for the Manhattan Clan, Rebecca had been shot and nearly killed by a hovercycle-mounted Quarryman. But she backed off as ordered, while Brooklyn radioed for the other gargoyles perched or gliding high out of sight to come on down.
As everyone gathered on the rooftop, the Quarrymen were quickly and efficiently stripped down to their underwear, and their wrists secured behind them with large zip-ties. Then they were just as quickly rolled up inside thick blankets that had been brought from the castle, so only their heads were showing. "Okay, Broadway; show Erasmus and Lucy a good office building to dump them in," Brooklyn said as Lucy and Erasmus each hefted a blanket-rolled man in their arms, and walked to the edge of the roof. Snagging the Quarrymen's paper bag from where it had fallen, Broadway joined them and the three launched off the roof together, heading for the business district nearby.
The plan was to find a business that worked regular office hours, and didn't employ a night watchman to make regular rounds. It wouldn't be hard; there were plenty of offices and buildings that still just locked their doors and windows at night. And some of them didn't even lock all the windows that were off the ground floor; easy access indeed for a gargoyle who'd found some spare change while on patrol and was looking to use a vending machine. Broadway could probably list a dozen such businesses and office buildings, so he was leading Lucy and Erasmus to where they could stash the two Quarrymen inside an office for the rest of the night.
Out of the weather and rolled up in the blankets, the Quarrymen would be in no danger of freezing to death. But with their hands tied behind them they wouldn't be able to get loose of the blankets on their own, let alone call anyone and let them know what had happened. The two men would surely be discovered and freed when business hours began the next morning, but by that time it would be far too late to do any good—or harm.
They were in better luck than they'd dared hope for; one of the two Quarrymen they'd taken out was on the stocky side. Adam's body was wiry, but he needed the extra room in the torso and legs to hide his caped wings and his tail. There was no hope of him fitting his feet into the boots that went with the uniform, but the thick black wool socks they'd brought along would hopefully serve to disguise gargoyle feet from a casual glance at a distance.
Lexington was supposed to be putting on the other uniform, but instead he was sitting on one of the hovercycles, figuring out the controls. Rebecca was gleefully sitting on the other, and had already figured out how to start it hovering six inches off the rooftop. "Very nice, Rebecca," Brooklyn said firmly. "Now get off there and show Adam how to fly it." She pouted at him but obediently landed it again while Brooklyn said pointedly, "Lex, your outfit's waiting for you…"
"Give me a little more time, okay?" Lexington said as his hovercycle lifted off the rooftop as well. "I want to figure out everything this baby can do, before I have to shove my wing-struts down and in so far that I can't just fly off it if I need to."
"Good point. Okay, take her once around the block, then get back here and get in costume. Adam, you want to do the same?" Brooklyn asked.
Adam strode over to look at the controls on the other cycle, and said with confidence, "Throttle, clutch, gas… they based the controls on motorcycle controls, and I used to ride those all the time when I was younger. Give me two minutes on 'er, and I'll be ready to cruise the strip!"
"Motorcycle controls, eh?" Now Brooklyn had to fight down the urge to try out a hovercycle for himself. They had a few minutes of leeway, but there just wasn't time for everyone who was interested to have joyrides before accomplishing their mission. Still… He announced with a grin, "Slight change of plans; after this is over, instead of trashing both hovercycles, we'll take one back to the castle if we can." Hey, Hudson wasn't the only one who could collect souvenirs…
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While gliding and munching on the ginger snaps he'd found, Broadway glanced over his shoulder towards the castle, wondering how Martha was doing. He knew it was kind-of silly to be wondering already, when he'd only left her side a half-hour ago and the castle was as safe as Xanatos could make it. But this was the first time they'd been more than a few wingspans apart since their wedding.
He'd learned a lot about Martha during the weeks when they'd just been friends working in the kitchen together; back when he'd been too thick-headed or stubborn to realize he was falling in love with her. He'd learned her moods, her favorite dishes, her hobbies outside the kitchen, and how she related with her rookery kin and several other members of her clan. But once they'd become mates, he'd learned even more about her, such as where she was ticklish… and what really aroused her…
An abrupt cross-breeze startled him out of his reverie—which was probably a good thing, but trying to compensate for the change in air currents made him bobble in the air like a hatchling still learning his wings. Dammit, he used to be able to handle cross-breezes like that with ease! But his left wing just didn't do what he wanted it to all the time; he had to really concentrate and work at it to glide smoothly.
He glanced over at Erasmus and Lucy, his face burning in embarrassment, to see if they'd noticed his midair stumble. But they were preoccupied with their blanket-wrapped burdens; one of the Quarrymen had just awakened. And now that he was awake, he was babbling with fear, begging for the gargoyles to not kill him and his friend.
"Oh, hush," Lucy said crossly to the man squirming in her arms. "You're supposed to be intelligent, so use your brain for a moment and think! If we had intended to kill you, you would be dead already!"
"Maybe he thinks we're just saving him for later; that we sacrifice humans to the Great Dragon, or something," Erasmus suggested, sounding amused.
Lucy complained, "And now he's squirming even harder! Thanks so much for your suggestion, dear... Listen, human; we don't do sacrifices either. But if you don't stop squirming right now, I might lose my grip on you, and it's a long way down to the street… That's better. Broadway, how much further to that office building?"
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Benner, one of the men on watch at the East Village warehouse that the Quarrymen had turned into their base of operations, called his partner excitedly. "Did you hear that?!"
"Hear what?" his partner Wilson responded, looking up from his crossword puzzle.
"On the radio just now! HV3 and 4 are on their way back; they bagged a couple of gargoyles!"
The crossword was tossed aside as Wilson jumped to his feet. "Really? Hot damn, it's about time we got some of those bastards! Are they bringing back the heads or something?"
"I think so; their signal was staticky as hell, but I could make out 'surprised two gargoyles' and 'nailed', and 'bringing back trophies'! Go open the doors for them, while I tell the others!"
Wilson went to open the doors, while Benner excitedly went to inform everyone else still in their headquarters so late at night.
The warehouse's giant double doors were rolled open, and by the time everyone else in the building had gathered at the open doors, they could hear the subdued roar of the hovercycles' engines, faint but coming closer.
"Did anyone call Castaway yet?" Wilson asked, while keeping his eyes on the night sky.
"Not yet," Martinez, their lieutenant on duty, responded. "I want to find out first if this is great news, or really great news! Remember the primary targets, that giant purple male with the brown mane, and the blue female with the red mane? They're the Alphas of the gargoyle pack! When we call Castaway, first thing he'll ask is if we nailed one of them."
"Hey, that's right; did anyone grab that sword in his office, or a meat cleaver or something?" Benner asked. "He said with the blue female especially, we should behead her to make sure she's dead."
"Not to worry; Copeland always packs a meat cleaver in his saddlebag," Martinez said reassuringly. And his voice rose in excitement a moment later as he said, "I see them!"
A moment later, both hovercycles came into view gliding down the street, and everyone let out a cheer when they came near; each Quarryman rider had strapped to the front of his hovercycle, the corpse of a gargoyle! One of the gargoyles was a brick red male with a big beak and a mane that looked like it might be white, under all the blood matting it. The other was deep purple under all the blood running down its arms and legs, and hairless.
"The purple one! Hot damn, we hit the jackpot!" someone in the crowd whooped as the cycles glided closer.
Another Quarryman said more judiciously, "Nope; that one's too dark and too skinny, and he's got no hair either. But still, score two for our side!" And everyone cheered again while clearing a path for the hovercycles, as they glided past into the warehouse.
And just as the hovercycles set down on the concrete behind the crowd—
And just as a few of them wondered why Stanford and Copeland were still wearing their hoods, and not saying anything—
Both of the limp, lifeless gargoyle corpses came to life again. Still strapped to the cycles, the brick-red one and the deep purple one reared up simultaneously, threw some small things clutched in their hands at the crowd, then flopped back down and covered their ears while the Quarrymen on the hoverycles did the same—
And the world exploded in white.
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Covering his ears had helped a little, but those stun grenades were LOUD! Brooklyn's ears were ringing as he quickly unhooked the bungee cords that had been keeping him on the hovercycle. He slipped down to the floor and staggered to his feet, just as Etienne was doing; the New Orleans gargoyle also looked a bit dazed, but he was still grinning from ear to ear.
Adam and Lexington had already hopped off the hovercycles and started running deeper into the warehouse, as according to the plan. They still wore their hoods in order to confuse any Quarrymen who might have missed the blast, but the small white X's applied low on their backs with masking tape marked who they were to the gargoyles.
The massive flash of light from inside the warehouse had been their cue; everyone else in the raiding party came swooping in through the still-open warehouse doors, punching out the Quarrymen who were either still standing or already staggering back to their feet after the stun grenade had gone off (only two out of eight), and quickly applying zip-ties to the wrists and ankles of the Quarrymen on the ground.
Less than thirty seconds after the stun grenades had gone off, all the Quarrymen who'd been in the crowd were on the ground and out of action. Once their opponents were secured, the gargoyles quickly fanned out throughout the warehouse, searching for (a) their missing people and (b) other Quarrymen that hadn't been in the gathered crowd. Elisa had said they probably wouldn't find the kidnap victims being held right at the Quarrymen's own headquarters, that Jon Canmore/Castaway wouldn't be that stupid, but they still had to make sure.
Brooklyn went up a flight of stairs to find what must have been the Quarrymen's head office, where Lexington, his hood and uniform sweater already stripped off, was busily tapping on the keyboard of a computer. Adam was rifling through the shelves and desk drawers, looking for more possible clues. After grabbing the discarded hood to wipe away some of the fake blood that was dripping down from his mane into his face, Brooklyn asked, "Anything, Lex?" Then louder, realizing that Lexington's ears were probably ringing too, "Found anything, Lex?"
"Not yet," Brooklyn heard Lexington say faintly through the ringing in his own ears. "Give me a few more minutes."
"Fifteen minutes, tops; then we just grab the whole computer and get ready to go!" Brooklyn reminded him, before joining Adam in tossing the office, searching for anything that might be a clue as to where the women and children were being held. Elisa had said that they should especially look for receipts for hotel rooms or other room rentals, or notes about locations elsewhere in the city.
Adam waved a three-ring binder in front of his beak; the page he held open listed half a dozen locations in Manhattan. Brooklyn studied the addresses for a second, placing them on the map of Manhattan he carried in his head, then recognized them. He shook his head and told Adam loudly, "Old perches we used sometimes!" Places that one or more clan members had slept when they hadn't gotten back to the clocktower before dawn, for one reason or another. Perches they'd better avoid in the future; it gave him chills from the wing-joints clear down to his tail-tip, to realize how closely they'd been studied by people who wanted to destroy them.
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In the main part of the warehouse, the rest of the raiding/searching party assembled, all of them shaking their heads. They hadn't found any sign that the missing women and children were being held there.
"Time to ask some questions," Broadway declared, looking over at the group of Quarrymen lying helpless on the ground, while running through his mind everything he'd learned about interrogation, from watching movies and from listening to Matt and Elisa. One of the best techniques was 'good cop / bad cop', but that probably wouldn't work too well for them; these guys would never believe a gargoyle saying he sympathized with them. So, no 'good cop'; they'd have to do 'bad cop' all the way.
A thought that just this once, Broadway had no problem with. Someone had taken Bethany and Alexander, a little girl and a baby who could barely crawl; two helpless innocents! And while Fox and Owen could handle themselves in a fight, Anne was almost as helpless as her daughter. When he found whoever had kidnapped them, he intended to do some serious damage! And if these guys had anything at all to do with the kidnapping…
"You have fun with them; I'm gonna have me some fun with their equipment," Etienne said, grinning while gesturing at the hovercycles, the helicopter in the back of the warehouse and the racks of equipment against the walls.
Broadway nodded to Etienne, then walked over to where the Quarrymen were lying; those who were conscious were staring wide-eyed at the gargoyles. "Wh-what are you going to do with us?" one of them asked with a quaver in his voice.
Broadway grabbed that one by the front of his uniform and lifted him partway off the ground, bringing the man closer to get a good look at his fangs as he said simply, "I'm hungry."
"NO! Oh God, noooooo!" the man wailed as Broadway dragged him off, looking for an empty room or otherwise secluded spot. The other gargoyles, helping Etienne in rounding up the Quarrymen's equipment, gave him and his captive either grim smiles or wicked grins as he passed.
He found a small room built into the side of the warehouse and dragged the man inside, wrinkling his nose at the odor coming from his captive; the man had pissed his pants in sheer terror. And was still begging and pleading, until Broadway gave him a light slap and growled, "Stop that! I'm not going to eat you."
"Y-you're not?" as the man stared at him wide-eyed.
"No! Gargoyles don't eat people, no matter what your leader told you." Broadway paused before adding ominously, "But that depends on whether or not we consider you people."
"Huh?"
"Yup. Gargoyles are people, but we're still not so sure about some of you humans. You see, people live by rules. People try to get along with each other. People don't prey on their own kind. And people especially don't kidnap innocent little children!" Broadway finished his little improvisation, then went to the script that Brooklyn and Adam had hammered out earlier:
"We're looking for two children, their mothers and another man; humans who are under the protection of the gargoyle clan. People who were kidnapped earlier tonight! Kidnapped, and we think your gang had something to do with it. Right now, we're asking nicely if you know where they are. But if we don't get our friends back safe and sound, and very soon…" Broadway showed his fangs again as he snarled, "we stop asking nicely."
"I swear to God, I don't know anything about any kidnapped people!" the Quarryman babbled. "I'd never kidnap anyone!"
"But would you just stand by and say nothing if one of your buddies did the dirty deed?" Broadway still showed his fangs. "Whoever kidnapped our friends is going to pay for it. And anyone who knows about the kidnapping but says nothing… You humans call it 'accessory after the fact'. We gargoyles call it 'just as guilty'. Guess how we treat people who are just as guilty as kidnappers?" Broadway hadn't thought it possible for the Quarryman to pale any further, but now the human went white as milk. He finished with, "So think carefully about everything you've seen and heard lately. Think really carefully…"
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The fifteen minutes were up; Lexington hit a key and made some printouts from the computer, then shut it down and started unhooking its cables. Adam swept the desk's rolodex, notebooks and everything else with information on it into a box, for taking with them when they left. After helping Adam load up everything that might possibly contain a clue, Brooklyn stepped out of the office and gestured for Cassius to come over. "How's it going out there?"
"No sign of the missing people in here, and Broadway's questioned one guy so far, but with no results that he's told us of," Cassius said with a wave towards where Broadway was currently dragging off another Quarryman. "Martin's working on another one as we speak. We're done collecting their equipment; how about Lucretia and I take a couple of them for questioning?"
"If you both remember the script, go for it," Brooklyn told him. "The sooner we're done here, the better."
So Lucretia and Cassius each dragged off a terrified Quarryman for questioning, while Adam joined Lexington at the Quarrymen's radio setup. It was time for the next phase of their operation. No one had needed to state out loud that tonight's mission was to 'kill two birds with one stone', as the humans liked to say. If they were going to attack the Quarrymen head-on instead of just avoiding them, they might as well do everything they could to cripple the organization.
Using the frequencies and call signs that Xanatos' people had learned for them, Adam called the other hovercycle team and the two van teams still out patrolling, back to base with the message that their leader was in the warehouse and had an announcement to make to everyone. "Is there a helicopter team out too?" Brooklyn whispered.
"Not according to the patrol roster I found," Lexington whispered back, looking at where Adam was sitting with the headset and microphone. "When I dug into their personnel database, I found only one man left who had helicopter pilot qualifications; maybe it's his night off."
"And did the database have any way of distinguishing who's an upper-ranking member in their organization?" But even as Brooklyn asked, Lexington flourished for him a printout titled 'Captains and Lieutenants,' complete with names and addresses. "Good job."
"Got one of 'Squad Leaders,' too," Lexington said gleefully. "Nice of them to be so well organized for us, huh?"
"Just this once, yeah. When we're done here, we'll hit the captains and lieutenants first, then work our way down." The Quarrymen had hundreds of people in their ranks, but Matt had passed on to them through Elisa the theory that the kidnapping had been accomplished by someone high-ranked in the organization; someone who'd proven themselves capable and responsible enough to pull off a complex and risky job, not just any rank-and-file member.
Brooklyn scanned the short list of captains and lieutenants, and was grimly pleased to see that Jon Castaway's name was on that list as Captain, along with an address and phone number. Xanatos had told them that Jon Canmore/Castaway was known to change his address on a frequent basis; probably a habit from his Hunter days. But he'd let his own people know how to get hold of him, wouldn't he?
You and me are gonna have a long talk, madman, he promised silently. You attacked Goliath and Elisa while they were courting. Your people zapped Lexington, and would have killed him if I hadn't been there to catch him. They even tried to kill Hudson—in a hospital full of sick humans, yet! Then they crippled Broadway; damn near took the sky away from him forever. And worst of all, they killed Brentwood, a gargoyle who was just a hatchling inside, and all on your orders. You've caused enough misery for the clan; time to put a stop to you for good…
Eventually all the Quarrymen already in the warehouse were questioned, but none of them knew anything about the kidnapping. Their mouths were taped shut and they were stashed in the main office upstairs, out of the way while the gargoyles waited to give the returning Quarrymen a warm welcome indeed.
Counting Castaway, there were eight men on the list of captains and lieutenants, including the one called Martinez that had been on duty. That left seven to find and question. While waiting for the patrols to arrive, Brooklyn showed everyone the list and the addresses, and they used the GPS locators they'd been given to determine where those addresses were in relation to the warehouse. Assignments were handed out; seven teams of two gargoyles each, to take on the seven men left on the list of captains and lieutenants. If their missing people weren't at any of those locations and none of those Quarrymen knew anything, they'd move on to the twenty squad leaders, as many as they could find in the time they had left before dawn. Brooklyn told the assembled teams, "We'll try to hit the lieutenants all at nearly the same time, so no one has a chance to call and warn the others."
"And after we're done with them… zip-tie and tape mouths shut?" Martin asked.
Brooklyn shook his head. "No. Because if they have family with them, we'd have to do it to every family member, or they'd be freed immediately afterwards. And if they don't have family with them… there was a case not six months ago, of a man who'd been surprised by burglars in his own apartment. They knocked him out and tied him up while they robbed the place. But they didn't untie him when they left… and by the time the landlord came by for the rent five days later, the poor bastard had died of thirst, still tied up in his kitchen. So we just get our hands on 'em, find out what they know, and get out fast. Oh, and smash their phones before leaving; that'll slow them down a little when it comes to alerting the other Quarrymen."
Isabel, who had naturally been partnered with Brooklyn, gave her mate a raised eyebrow. "And is that really all we're going to do with Jon Castaway?"
Brooklyn snorted. "Not by a long shot. That man has a helluva lot to answer for… When we're done with him, we'll leave him gift-wrapped outside a police precinct, with instructions for the cops to check his fingerprints against those of the missing terrorist who bombed the 23rd Precinct. Can't leave him outside the 23rd, because we don't want him catching sight of Elisa. But any other precinct will do; cops really don't like bombers."
Etienne and Lexington had found that the electrified net-mortars were easy to load and operate, and begged Brooklyn for the chance to use them against the incoming Quarrymen. But Brooklyn said no to that as well; "Too apt to be lethal. And we don't know what will happen if one of the hovercycles gets zapped by electricity; no risking explosions until we're ready for them. We'll have to take them out the old-fashioned way…"
The other team of hovercycle riders were first to arrive at the warehouse. They found the doors open and what appeared to be two Quarrymen waiting just inside, waving excitedly for them to come in. So they came in, hovering about six feet of the floor… and were nailed as soon as they cleared the doorway. Lucy and Martin had been waiting in the rafters; they jumped down on the riders, surprising and overpowering them in seconds, and hitting the controls that Lexington had told them would set the hovercraft to idling gently down to the ground.
As soon as the Quarrymen had been unstrapped, yanked off their seats and tied up, the gargoyles stopped being gentle with the hovercycles. They all grabbed Quarryhammers and started gleefully pounding away, on the two that had just arrived and on one of the vehicles they'd brought with them, in their Trojan Horse gambit. Even without charging them up, the Quarryhammers did a lot of damage; in less than thirty seconds, three hovercyles were reduced to piles of scrap and leaking fuel.
"Hold it!" Robert suddenly snapped, whipping his head towards the still-open doors. Everyone froze, and in that sudden silence they heard the sound of screeching tires and an engine revving as someone raced away. They ran out the doorway, just in time to see the taillights of a van as it turned the nearest corner.
"Dammit!" Brooklyn just knew in his guts that the van had been a Quarryvan, returning earlier than expected. And that the driver had seen what they were doing, and decided that discretion was the better part of valor. Running away, and probably looking for a phone to call their buddies… "Party's over, folks; time to blow this place!"
And they did. Eight gargoyles stampeded into the warehouse office and grabbed the Quarrymen who'd been left tied up there, carrying them swiftly out of the warehouse. The two who'd just arrived were also grabbed and carried out. Erasmus, in the lead, opened the door of a building across the street by kicking it in with one blow from his cloven hoof.
Having already strapped the computer and the box of office materials to the back of the remaining hovercycle, Lexington hopped onto the vehicle and rode it out and up, to park it on a rooftop several blocks away. Everyone else picked up the Quarryhammers that had been used on the hovercycles and tossed them inside the helicopter, where they'd already stowed the other Quarryhammers and all the net-mortars that had been in the warehouse. Then Etienne set the timer on the detonator for the C-4, which he'd applied to the helicopter's gas tank.
Thirty seconds later, while the gargoyles were hurriedly stowing their captives in the building across the street, a massive explosion shook the warehouse. It was actually a series of explosions, one right after the other, but the concussive blasts were so close together that they could hardly be told apart. "Dayumn, those Quarryhammers must pack a helluva punch," Etienne said admiringly, as a hellish orange glow lit up the warehouse from within and massive columns of smoke came billowing out.
"No doubt," Brooklyn agreed, then told the captive Quarrymen as he removed the tape from over their mouths, "The fire department will be here soon; when they get here, just holler loudly enough and they'll find you. And tomorrow, start looking for other hobbies, got it? Remember, we could have just killed you all tonight…"
00oo00oo00oo00oo00
After a quick rendezvous on the roof where Lexington had parked the hovercycle, they split up into seven teams for their assignments; to search the homes of six Quarrymen lieutenants and their leader for the kidnap victims, and shake them down for any information they might have about the kidnapping.
Broadway and Etienne went to an address in Flatiron.
Cassius and Lucretia followed their GPS to an address in Little Italy.
Lucy and Erasmus went looking for a specific apartment in Tribeca.
Lexington and Robert went the farthest north, to a house in Washington Heights.
Adam and Rebecca headed for an address in Carnegie Hill.
Martin and Cecelia went to a brownstone in the West Village.
And Brooklyn and Isabel went looking for a certain hotel in Morningside Heights, and a certain room on the fourth floor. The Quarrymen's database had listed that hotel room as the most recent place where Jon Castaway, their leader, rested his head.
The fastest way to Morningside Heights from the East Village area was directly across Central Park. As Brooklyn led Isabel over the park, he glanced down and saw his favorite spot in the Ramble; a small secluded glen surrounded by trees. Trees that had lost their green leafy glory to winter's chill touch, but the glen was still secluded, a nice spot for a couple looking for privacy.
The sight made him remember, just for a moment… Three nights ago, during his brief honeymoon with Isabel in New Orleans, Brooklyn had told her about that glen in the park. He hadn't told her about his old fantasies of coaxing Angela to join him in the glen for courting; instead, he'd told her how beautiful it was by midsummer moonlight, and how much more beautiful it would be with her standing in it, the moon shining down on her sleek fur. There with him, as he would gently nip at her and peel her clothes off till the moon shone on all her beauty. And as Brooklyn had whispered to Isabel, he'd also demonstrated…
Brooklyn, you are such a horny bastard, he berated himself harshly. The kids and their mothers have been kidnapped, and you're thinking about sex?! Get your mind on what matters now!
He worked his wings harder, to take full advantage of the air currents and get to Morningside Heights even faster, with Isabel gliding grimly alongside him.
00oo00oo00oo00oo00
The park below them was so big, it could only be that Central Park that New York City was famous for; the park Brooklyn had told her about, during their honeymoon.
Isabel couldn't help occasionally glancing downwards as they glided over it, wondering where in the park was the beautiful romantic glen that Brooklyn had told her about. Then she scolded herself to get her mind back on business; they had a gargoyle-hating criminal to interrogate, and kidnap victims to find!
But it was harder than usual to get her mind back on track; almost as bad as if she had a new idea for a statue or other art brewing in the back of her head. She kept getting distracted by the realization that this was her home territory now, and this was her life from now on…
Only a week ago, she had been telling herself not to get too worked up at the thought of joining Brooklyn in his home protectorate as his mate. She'd figured that Yvette, her prettier and oh-so-likeable sister, would be getting a courting gift as soon as Brooklyn stopped feeling obliged to go out with all the females who were interested in him.
Isabel knew her faults; knew well that she frequently got too wrapped up in her artwork, and was usually lacking in the tact and patience departments. And she'd more-or-less accepted the idea that she'd never have a mate of her own, would have to make do with sharing a male with one of her sisters, just for the Breeding Moon… until Brooklyn came along and got her heart to thumping, so hard that she'd sometimes wondered if he could hear it. It still amazed her that he'd chosen her over Yvette, but she wasn't going to argue with him about it!
And after he'd chosen her to court, they'd had their wedding less than twenty-four hours later. So it wasn't until they were on their honeymoon, and Brooklyn had been telling her about all the places in New York that he wanted to take her to see and experience, that Isabel had realized that soon she'd be leaving Home. Leaving the estate and the territories she'd hunted in and patrolled over for all her life. Leaving her elders and most of her rookery kin behind…
Brooklyn had been utterly bewildered and dismayed when she'd suddenly burst into tears. Isabel had been pretty dismayed with herself, too. Izzy the blacksmith artist was supposed to be as tough and sharp as the metal she worked on; she hadn't cried in decades!
But she'd gotten herself back under control while Brooklyn had been anxiously telling her that it was just a vicious rumor, utterly untrue, and New York hot dogs didn't have cat meat in them at all, really! She'd dried her tears and reassured her mate, and since then, she'd forced herself to go from being apprehensive about leaving her familiar hunting grounds and patrol routes, to being excited about the prospect of living in and learning about a whole new protectorate.
This was a helluva crash course in learning, though. She would have preferred Brooklyn to show her the sights at a leisurely pace over the course of several nights, with plenty of time outs for necking and et cetera…
And no doubt Fox Xanatos and the others would have preferred not to be kidnapped, too, she thought wryly. They were clearing the edge of the park now; from what she remembered of the map she'd been shown, they should be coming up on Morningside Heights soon…
00oo00oo00oo00oo00
Broadway suspected that he and Etienne had been assigned to the Quarryman lieutenant who lived in the Flatiron neighborhood, and after that a squad leader who lived only three blocks away, because Flatiron was closest to the Quarrymen's base of operations in the East Village and Brooklyn didn't want Broadway to tire himself out going all over Manhattan. Which was kind-of insulting—yes, he had a problem with his left wing these nights, but didn't Brooklyn trust Broadway to know his own limits? But he hadn't been able to come up with a way of protesting at the time, without sounding like a real jerk.
He and Etienne reached their target's address in good time… and Broadway's heart lurched when he recognized the rooftop. Oh damn, he should definitely have asked for a different assignment! He remembered exactly what had happened the last time he'd landed on that rooftop…
Landed there not by his own choice, but by Coldstone's. It was while he had been possessed by Coldstone, and Angela by Coldfire. After the two spirits that controlled their bodies had glided out to the Statue of Liberty to feel the wing beneath their borrowed wings, and after Brooklyn (actually the evil spirit housed inside him, Coldsteel) had slyly suggested that they should take full advantage of the fleshly bodies they were housed in, the pair had glided back towards the clan's clocktower home… but hadn't quite reached it before giving in to temptation.
Coldstone-in-him and Coldfire-in-Angela had landed right there on that rooftop, stripped off their host bodies' clothes and… and did just about everything mates could do with each other, short of actually putting penis into vagina. Coldstone had really wanted to do that too, but Coldfire had been concerned about their accidentally bonding their host bodies together; giving them bonding scents when the hosts weren't mated to each other. But there were lots of other pleasurable activities mates could do with each other, and the two spirits had done a lot of them… utterly unaware at the time that the people those bodies really belonged to, were helplessly all-too-aware of everything.
Afterwards, Broadway and Angela had managed to come to terms with what had been done with them and to them, and Broadway had tried to forget the whole thing. But that wasn't something a guy could ever forget… and whether he'd wanted to admit it or not, he'd learned a lot about pleasuring females that night, far more than he'd learned during the previous four decades of existence. Broadway had always been too embarrassed to go spying on older mated couples, like some of his rookery brothers had done back in the old clan, and other than at Goliath's bachelor party he'd never seen any human porn movies either. So if not for Coldstone and Coldfire, he'd have been utterly inexperienced and ignorant on his wedding night.
His and Martha's mating flight… had been too rough, too fast, over too soon. Oh, the flight had lasted long enough for him to get thoroughly aroused by the time he caught her, but… he could tell afterwards that it hadn't been much fun for her and had even hurt her a little, even if she'd sworn she was just fine. So he'd decided that for their next time, on the ground (actually in the back of the van driving them to the safe house; someone had thrown a lot of old cushions inside it while decorating it for the trip, and their driver Willie LeBeau had pointedly put on headphones playing jazz music before putting the van in gear) he'd use some of the things Coldstone had taught him about foreplay.
And those lessons had worked, really well! There hadn't been any doubt at all about Martha enjoying what he was doing, not when he'd had her eyes glowing like rubies while she begged him for more. He'd been pretty darn proud of himself, proud and in short order very satisfied indeed!
Yep, everything had been going just great… until afterwards, when Martha had breathlessly told him that he'd proved Ursula utterly wrong. Ursula had pulled Martha and Isabel aside just before the ceremony and warned them not to expect too much from their mates while on their honeymoons; that males usually had little clue on how to pleasure females and it would take a few weeks of patience and learning on both sides, very careful suggestions and coaching their mates, before they experienced true orgasms. "But what you just… what we… that was definitely an orgasm! I thought I was going to die from sheer pleasure! You just knew what to do, knew what I wanted even before I did… it was incredible!" And soon afterwards, very hesitantly, she'd asked, "How… how did you learn all that? I mean, some of it you couldn't even have learned from human sex manuals, because they're not built like us… is it something they actually taught youngsters in the medieval times?"
"Uhhhh… not exactly." Broadway had wanted to change the subject, but his hesitation had gotten Martha even more curious. And he'd already learned over the past few weeks that when Martha was really curious about something, there was no stopping her from eventually ferreting out the truth. So he'd finally given in and told her about Coldstone and Coldfire, and everything that had happened that night.
They'd reached the safe house by the time he'd finished telling her the story, and Martha had been very quiet and thoughtful as they'd stepped out of the van together and gone inside the house. Willie's wife Ruby and their son Toby had beaten them back to the house in their car, and had lit candles and done their best to make the attic a really romantic spot for a honeymoon. But Martha had said only a few words of thanks to them, still having that thoughtful look on her face.
It was only after they'd shut the door and were alone in the attic, that Martha had finally spoken to him again. "Broadway… when you were doing all that earlier in the van, were you with me in your head, or with Angela?"
"I was with you, honey, I swear!" Broadway had said fervently. And he really had been… mostly.
"Hmmm. Well I still think that the thing to do now… is something they didn't do with you and Angela. Let's make this night ours," as she'd tackled him onto the bed in the corner…
"Yo, Broadway? You home?" Etienne waved his hand in front of his face. "We been standing here on the roof a few minutes already; time to go surprise a Quarryman and ask some questions, or what?"
"Uh, yeah; we're just… giving everyone else time to get to their targets, that's all. Brooklyn said we should try to hit everyone in the first wave at about the same time, right? So there'd be less chance of someone calling and warning the others. Our target was closest, so we probably beat everyone else to theirs, but most of them should be arriving now…"
00oo00oo00oo00oo00
When Brooklyn and Isabel reached the hotel in Morningside Heights that was Jon Castaway's current address, they took quick peeks in through windows on the uppermost floors to figure out the room layout and numberings, and determine where their quarry's room would be on the fourth floor. Then they landed atop the building across the street, within line of sight of that room, for a last quick discussion of strategy before going in.
"Of all the Quarrymen, their leader's got to be the most dangerous," Brooklyn warned Isabel. "From what Elisa learned from Jon's brother Jason, the Canmore family has been hunting and fighting Demona for most of the last thousand years, and slaughtering every gargoyle clan they've come across while hunting for her. It's been like a religious crusade for them, and you know how crazy humans can get when it comes to religion."
"Oh, yeah," Isabel agreed with an emphatic nod. "Jonestown."
"Huh?"
"Never mind; it's before your time in this modern era. But yeah, I know about religious fanaticism. And you're saying Jon Canmore or Castaway is the local archbishop of 'Gargoyle Hating-ism'."
"Yeah, pretty much. He knows what we are and what we're capable and not capable of, and he apparently hates us all the more because of it. So if the women and kids aren't in there with him, we won't be able to get information on their whereabouts out of him by just showing our fangs."
"So we take him out hard and fast, tie him up, then take him gliding," Isabel suggested. She showed her fangs in a wicked grin. "Ever play 'hot potato' with someone? Even if he doesn't fear us, he's probably got a fear of falling. We toss him back and forth a few times, maybe go 'oopsie' and pretend to drop him once or twice… and after he pukes up his guts, we tell him we'll stop playing with him only when he tells us where the women and children have been taken."
Brooklyn stared at Isabel in reluctant admiration, while silently wondering if that was common to felinoid gargoyles; a predilection for playing with their prey. "That is the wickedest idea I've heard in years… and it's probably the only one that will work, too. Okay, that's now our working plan. But first we have to take him out before he can muster a defense against us. Our best weapon is the element of surpriiiiiee!!!" as something hit him hard, and his right shoulder burned in agony. He'd been shot!
Shock and the force of impact unbalanced him; he fell backwards onto the roof, and Isabel shouted in alarm and reached for him—and her shout turned into a shriek as she abruptly jerked, and he knew that she'd been hit too.
The element of surprise had belonged to someone else after all… and now their foe had drawn first blood.
To Be Continued!
