The Phoenix Conspiracy (18 page)

Calvin was about ready to
leave for the lower decks when he spotted someone in an Imperial
uniform enter and take a seat at a card table. The blue coat and
black sash were ripped in places and severely dirty, and it hung
too loosely on the man's wiry body to have been fitted for him. But
it
may
have come
from the Harbinger, Calvin thought.

The uniformed man bought his way into
the game and waited for the hand to finish. Calvin approached
cautiously and scrutinized him. He seemed very chatty with the
player to his right who didn't hesitate to reply. They knew each
other and made no effort to mask that fact but they were passing
information in code. Calvin wondered if they really were just
rag-tag criminals who'd happened to find an old uniform. Doubtful.
He approached the table and took the only available
seat.

"What's the buy in?" asked
Calvin.

"200q with a max of 1,000."

"Put me down for two hundred," Calvin
took the bills from his wallet, which he'd kept in his front pocket
on a chain—otherwise it would've run off by now.

"Two hundred it is." The hand finished
and the dealer passed out new cards. Calvin kept his cards face
down, aside from a quick peek. They were terrible. Good thing he
wasn't here to make a profit.

From his position, he had some trouble
listening in on the conversation because of the casino's noise. But
he caught bits and pieces.

"They said it would be all day," the
uniformed man said.

"I told them it wouldn’t," the player
on his right replied.

The dealer spoke up "Jacobi, it's to
you." The uniformed man nodded and passed in his chips, calling the
bet.

So his name is
Jacobi...

Everyone called after the initial
raise—keeping the bet relatively low, at 9q to call. Calvin decided
to stay in even though his odds of winning the pot were less than
one in a thousand. He didn't want to draw attention by being the
guy who folded early. Overly cautious gamblers didn't fit in at
joints like this.

The next set of cards was passed out
and Calvin's odds of winning decreased even further. But that
wasn't what disturbed him; it was the fact that Jacobi and his
friend hadn't resumed their conversation. Calvin stayed calm,
perfectly placid on the surface, but inside his head spun circles
trying to figure out whether or not he had some kind of tell, like
he seemed too interested in them or that he didn't belong. Maybe he
was trying too hard to avoid eye contact.

"Fifty to call," the dealer said. The
player just ahead of Calvin had raised the stakes
dramatically.

"I'm out," Calvin pushed his cards
toward the dealer. Folding right after a huge raise wasn't unusual,
the other player had done him a favor.

Jacobi looked up from the table and
turned to Calvin. "You," he said. "I know you."

Calvin's stomach turned over. "I doubt
it," he replied, smoothly as ice.

"What's your name?"

"Depends who's asking?"

"Don't you know who I am?"

Calvin hesitated; it was hard to see
Jacobi's expression behind his mat of long, greasy blond hair. But
he doubted he was a Rosco. "Should I? It's not like you're a
Rosco." Every Rosco he'd ever met dressed sharp, wore expensive
clothes, and kept a clean appearance. If a member of the family
dressed and looked like Jacobi it would be an embarrassment to
them, and they'd handle it.

"You still haven't told me your name,"
said Jacobi.

Calvin raised an eyebrow and sat back.
"Why should I? I don't owe you anything."

The dealer raised his arms. "You girls
take this outside. I'm cashing you both out, you're interrupting
the game."

"Fine," said Jacobi. Calvin just
nodded as his cash was passed back to him. Jacobi shot him a look
of death as they both stood up.

"Look, man," said Calvin. "I don't
exactly go around telling Imperials my name," he pointed to the
uniform, even though it clearly didn't belong to him. "Bad for
business." Calvin shrugged and turned away, not wanting to draw any
more attention. Jacobi might be his best lead but he couldn't blow
his cover. Especially if a real Rosco spotted him—that was the last
thing he needed.

"Hey wait," Jacobi called from behind.
"You're Rex Malone, aren't you?"

Calvin stopped dead in his
tracks. That was his undercover name, which he hadn't told anyone
since he'd boarded the station. Maybe Jacobi had seen his fake ID
somehow...
maybe when I opened my wallet
to pay the buy-in?
But that seemed
unlikely.

Calvin turned around slowly and spoke
cautiously. "That's right. And if you think you're going to take me
in, you've got another thing coming." For authenticity, Calvin had
his staff fabricate several crimes on Rex Malone's record, since he
was a fictitious person anyway, might as well make him look like a
crook in a crook's nest.

"No, no, easy, easy." Jacobi said,
walking closer. Calvin slipped a hand into his jacket, again
pretending he had a pistol. "I know you're just reaching for a
lighter, aren't you, Rex?"

"Something like that." He didn't like
where this was heading.

"Let's just keep it civil
okay?"

"Who are you?"

"My name's Jacobi. And I think I have
something of yours."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah. Why don't you come with us and
we'll take you to it." Jacobi motioned and three other men
approached Calvin from all sides, keeping their distance. His heart
quickened but he forced himself to look calm.

"Maybe another time, Jacobi. I have
some money to make."

"I'm afraid we must insist," Jacobi
said and the men closed in. One put a hand on Calvin's
shoulder.

"Why don't we go for a walk, what do
‘ya say?"

Calvin glanced to the side and spotted
his ghost, who was now standing up but keeping his distance in the
throng of people who were looking on.

"Okay, let's go," said
Calvin.

"That's more like it." Jacobi led the
five of them across the casino floor, through a back door, and down
a few narrow hallways. Eventually they came to a stop.

"What's this about? I know you guys
aren't Roscos, not even close."

Before they could answer, gunfire
sounded from around the corner. As Calvin turned to see, Jacobi
grabbed him and threw him against the wall. He tensed, throwing his
arms out defensively as he tried to wrestle his way free from the
other men. But their hold was too strong and they quickly pinned
him against the wall with such pressure he could hardly breathe.
Jacobi faced him down.

"I know you're military," Jacobi said.
"And I know why you're here. Let's just say you never should have
come." He pulled out a pistol and Calvin struggled more, wondering
how he’d been compromised.

"Don't you want to make a deal?” asked
Calvin, his mind racing.

"No chance," said Jacobi as he screwed
on a silencer. "I'll see you in hell."

So this was the end... cold sweet
death... something Calvin had tried to ignore his whole life. He
closed his eyes and waited, thinking at least now he'd be able to
solve mankind's greatest mystery.

Three shots whistled but he felt
nothing. The arms around him slackened and released. He opened to
see the three thugs dead on the ground; Jacobi stood opposite him
with a smoking pistol.

"Hurry up, let's go, Calvin," he said.
"We don't have much time." He grabbed Calvin by the shoulder and
ushered him back the way they’d come. Calvin followed
instinctively, and their jog became a sprint.

"What the hell just happened?"
Calvin's mind went into shock.

"Those men were working with CERKO.
They want you dead." As they turned the corner and bolted down
another hallway, Calvin caught sight of three more men on the
ground, dead by all appearances... one was his ghost, who'd
apparently managed to kill the other two. It wasn’t a pretty
sight.

"Come on," Jacobi urged.

Calvin bent down and scooped up his
ghost's pistol. "Looks like six shots left."

"Hurry up, we're in serious danger
here." They sprinted again.

A noise ahead made Jacobi stop dead in
his tracks, about face, and bolt the opposite way. "They're faster
than I thought, come on!"

Calvin followed close behind. "Who is?
And who are you? What's your interest in all of this?"

"I'm not Intel Wing or Navy," Jacobi
led him to an adjoining hall. "And Jacobi isn't my real name,
either."

They turned the corner just in time to
see a man and woman open fire at them with submachine guns. Jacobi
was shredded immediately; he collapsed without so much as a scream.
A stray bullet tore Calvin's shirt and grazed his arm, burning his
skin. He was otherwise unscathed because Jacobi had taken the
bullets for him, like an involuntary human shield.

Calvin raised his handgun and returned
fire blindly while scurrying around the corner. He heard the sound
of reloading and a part of him thought to go back around the corner
and engage them, maybe take them down before they could finish. But
his limbs wouldn't cooperate and the urgency of self-preservation
took over. He sprinted down the corridor trying to remember his way
back to the nearest public place. But, before he reached the end of
the hall, another pair of unknown soldiers appeared.

He went prone, somewhat concealed by
the darkness as their muzzles flashed, peppering the walls with
holes. He raised his pistol to shoot back but all that happened was
the click of an empty clip and his slide stuck back.

"There he is, he's on the ground," one
of them said. The soldier barely finished his sentence before
screaming and dropping to the floor. Something large was on top of
him, digging at him with claws. Then, in a flash, it flew past
Calvin and knocked the other soldier down with a powerful swipe,
tearing him apart in seconds.

From behind this new stranger two new
soldiers arrived and opened fire at the monster’s silhouette, which
seemed as much creature as man. It roared in pain but managed to
duck their next volley and sail across the corridor in only a few
leaps. These soldiers also died in the same gruesome, lightning
fashion.

In the faint light, Calvin made out
the red eyes of a lycan as it finished clawing through the last
gunman. Impossible. It was Tristan. Hairier, claws brought to bear,
raging with pure unrefined ferocity, but otherwise did not resemble
a wolf.

Several men with handguns came from
the other side of the corridor and opened fire on the werewolf.
Calvin guessed there were ten or more. Tristan's eyes locked with
Calvin's for a brief instant, as if to say something, then he
vanished away into the darkness, leaving a trail of
blood.

The newest arrivals ran up to Calvin
and lowered their weapons. And Calvin recognized a bulbous
middle-aged, goateed face that he hadn't seen in a long
time.

"Grady Rosco."

"
Calvin Cross
, why didn't you tell me
you were here?" They helped him to his feet.

"It wasn't exactly
convenient."

"You can tell me about it in a
minute," Grady said, then to his men, "Let's move!"

The mob of sharply dressed soldiers
formed a ring around Calvin and rushed him down the corridor and up
the stairs to a guarded office where four large guards with
automatic weapons stepped aside and opened a door to a small
lobby.

"Wait here," Grady told the others. He
unlocked a second door which revealed a small but luxurious office.
He waved Calvin inside and shut it, leaving them alone. "Please,
take a seat."

"All right," said Calvin cautiously
and he pulled a chair from the table. Grady sat
opposite.

"You know, I'm disappointed," Grady
shook his head. "That a friend of my family would come to my home
without paying me a visit."

"Like I said, it wasn't convenient."
Calvin's father had had past dealings with the Roscos before he
disappeared, but Calvin's mother had kept him as far away from them
and their underworld as possible, so he'd rarely interacted with
them face-to-face.

"You know, you almost died.
I'm embarrassed, Calvin. Embarrassed that you were attacked
in
my
house.
Someone will die for this, I promise you."

"Someone already has. Lots of
people."

"Do you have any idea how
much that would have dishonored my family?" Grady paused to offer
Calvin a cigar, when he refused Grady lit one for himself and
continued. "If a most honored guest were murdered here. Do you
have
any
idea? You
really should have told us, then we could have protected
you."

"I didn't expect I'd need
protection."

"Any idea who's got it out for
you?"

"No."

"People smuggling automatic weapons
into my house and several dead in my hallways. This isn't the way
we do business around here. My family is going to get to the bottom
of this and any information you have would be worth a lot. A lot of
q if you catch my drift."