The Spatial Shard

Chapter Eighteen – Confessionals

He put his feet down on solid ground and closed the car door. It was early in the afternoon in Mexico City, but the sun was already beaming down considerable heat… or was that something he was carrying enough of on his own? He moved to the back of the car and opened the back door, removing his jacket from the hook just above the inside of the door. He was already getting enough attention for the specialized shoulder holster he wore. Part of the attention he wanted; the last thing he needed at the moment was to be pestered. Armed men were normally given wide berth. The other part he would contend with, assuming there was a need to do so.

Weiss looked over the park and it was a pretty open place; a number of exits and a good perimeter of trees around the area preventing sniper activity. He hated these types of meetings – there was way too much of a cloak n’ dagger feeling, and only with the best of professionals would set-ups like these not get out of hand.

“Everything seems to be on the up and up,” Bonita said as she got out from behind the wheel.

“It usually is until it’s something else,” Weiss replied, donning his sunglasses over his gray eyes. “Stay with the car.”

“You got it,” she replied, quickly getting back inside the car.

“Smart girl,” Weiss observed. “She might live a while in this fool’s business.

“Come on, Jim,” he thought as he started walking into the park. “Let’s get this over with.”

He walked by children and young women, some of them were mothers, some were nannies… he spotted a couple who were neither, but they did not look like were going to make a move on him. Besides, it would have made little difference; they were too close to innocents for him to move first against them. They had chosen their places well. They had clear shots, but Weiss did not. Each step came easier to him, even though he was further away from any sort of back up. Each step brought him closer to a man in a black suit, seated on a bench, tossing out birdseed. The man sat with his back to James Weiss’ path of approach, and that made him feel better about the meeting. Such a stance was either an act of great trust or incompetence, neither of which was capable of killing Weiss.

“Hello James,” the man said as soon as Weiss came within earshot. “It has been a long time.”

“Father Rodriguez!” Weiss said as his face broke into a smile. He hastened his step to a jog and came around the bench to look at an old friend. And there he sat, actually thinning with age. He was no longer pudgy… his one point eight meter frame now only held some seventy-five kilograms, a far cry from the one hundred fifteen he had possessed when James first entered into the service of the Vatican. “What are you doing here?!”

“I’m fine, James,” Father Rodriguez said in an ironic tone. He did not look up from his feeding. “Thank you for asking. I trust you are doing well?” he asked, looking up at Weiss.

“Forgive me, Father-”

“For you have sinned?” Enrique said quickly as he stood up. “That much I know. And I am not about to ask you how long it has been since your last confession.” James Weiss looked down in shame and a sharp degree of pain. He was reminded of why he had distanced himself from God. He loved the church, but the same could not be said for his creator. “I am told that she felt no pain. That is good.”

“Yes, Father. Very good.”

“James, please walk with me,” Father Rodriguez motioned deeper into the park. James was quick to lift his arm as if to say ‘after you’. Father Rodriguez nodded and started walking. James walked with him, his head still low.

“What brings you to Mexico, Father?” James asked as he straightened his tie.

“Why, the same thing that brought you to Mexico, my son. And I am glad that you have given the ‘all-clear’ signal. Was my life in jeopardy?”

“To be honest, Father, I was not concerned about killing anyone as much as I was worried that I was being targeted.”

“Would that have not been easier during your debriefing?” Father asked, placing his hands behind his back.

“Who’s to say the one receiving my debriefing had the power to make that call, Father.”

“Good point, James,” Father Rodriguez admitted as he continued to walk. They took a few strides with nothing said. Enrique Rodriguez was weighing his words carefully and James Weiss knew he was not yet out of the woods.

“Have you read the report about your blood?”

“Yes, Father. We were able to isolate the agent used to fight off Vey’s toxin. But how long will that be of any use to us?”

“Knowing Samantha Vey, not nearly quick enough,” Father Rodriguez admitted. “That woman is capable of so much conniving. It is a shame she does so much for earthly gains.”

“She serves her purposes, Father,” Weiss argued. “Or don’t you remember?”

“The lesson of why villains exist?” Rodriguez said with a smile. “Yes, I do remember. You seemed particularly drawn to that lesson. You were so young and wide-eyed,” the man said as he slowly lost his smile, struck by the comparisons of the young man then and the one who walked at his side. “For that I must apologize.”

“We all make choices, Father,” James quickly inserted. “I did not know all of what I was getting into, but it was still a conscious consideration I made. I regret the passing of my wife, Father, but I can’t say I regret ever knowing or loving that woman.

“But I have to ask you something,” Weiss continued. “… and I would ask that you keep your answers as direct as your humanity and your station will allow.”

“Oh my,” Rodriguez huffed. “What a way to phrase a request… so much has changed hasn’t it, my friend?” Rodriguez took a few more steps, considering the outcome of his response. “I will do all that I can, James.”

“Fair enough, Father, and thank you.” Weiss said before taking a moment. “Father, why was I assigned to this detail? We both know there are better agents in the service of the Vatican.”

“Indeed we do,” Rodriguez replied.

“Then if I’m not the best man for the job wh-”

“Where do you get that conclusion, James?” Rodriguez asked as he stopped walking. “I said nothing of the sort.”

“You just said there were better agents!” James snapped.

“Mind your volume and tone, son,” Rodriguez cautioned as he resumed walking. He ran his hand through his thick salt-and-pepper hair and stopped just before his ponytail. “Children are at play and life for them is not such a complicated thing. Let them keep that mindset for as long as they can.”

“You mean the illusion,” James argued.

“Another discussion for another time, my son. Let us continue with the point you are trying to make. Would you say that Martin Luther King was the best religious leader on the planet at his time?”

“Isn’t that a matter of opinion?” Weiss asked. “I mean, Gandhi died nearly twenty years before he did, but how do you take measure of what one did versus the other?”

“And there are other agents with better records and greater capability,” Father Rodriguez noted. “Is that your point?”

“It is exactly my point!” Weiss replied.

“And I agree with you. There are better agents. But that does not mean that you were not the best choice for this detail. And while you jumped across the Atlantic with your comparison, Malcolm X would have also been an interesting perspective to discuss. After all, it is hard to believe that King would ever preach what X believed… and vice versa.

“In other words, James,” Rodriguez said as he took hold of Weiss’ arm. It was not a touch that went unnoticed. Something was happening, and while Weiss kept an open ear to Father Rodriguez, his other senses quickly went about the exercise of mapping his general area. “… each man might not have been the best, but they were exactly what each of their causes needed at the time they arrived. And I believe you are exactly the man we need on this mission.

“Yes, you’ve had your fair share of difficulty, but we both know how valuable Seth McEmbree is to the Church.”

“Millions,” Weiss answered quickly.

“More than the money that is gained from the investments made in his name,” Rodriguez was quick to point out. “You saw much on your last deployment.”

“Quite a bit,” Weiss agreed.

“And you also saw clips of the surveillance teams that followed Turner to McEmbree’s room.”

“That thing was impossible!” Weiss declared with a sigh, remembering what the robot had been able to do.

“Then why was McEmbree able to survive its efforts?” Rodriguez asked and James Weiss came to a direct stop, stepping back from the priest, shocked to hear such news. Enrique quickly nodded and took hold of Weiss’ arm again. “Yes, he did survive. Furthermore, we have footage showing he was able to defeat the robot and reprogram it, though we have yet to determine for what exact purpose.”

“The geek took out the robot?” Weiss asked. “Why did he need us then?”

“Seth McEmbree is hardly honest or Catholic,” Rodriguez advised. Again Weiss was surprised. “Oh my son, I thought you were more prepared for these truths! Mayhap this villain is beyond you.”

“McEmbree is the villain?!” Weiss quickly asked.

“Both McEmbree and Vey, James,” Rodriguez answered. “We assist one so that we may keep a close watch on both sides. But what we seek is not in either’s possession, which is another reason why your mission must continue.

“Now,” Rodriguez said, almost pulling on Weiss’ arm now. “… at the end of this path you will find a new vehicle and inside you will find all the equipment you will need to resume your work. It will begin with a flight to the States. We have chartered a plane that will keep you from having to go through the problems of customs.”

“But Turner–” Weiss stopped himself in mid sentence. Rodriguez knew who had driven him to the park. How could he not know? Now he knew why he was being ushered away: something was indeed happening, he was losing Bonita Turner.

“We’ve found Ms. Turner’s faith to be far too questionable to allow us to trust her further. That is why we asked her to drive her car to the rendezvous.”

“Makes things simpler,” Weiss concluded.

“Indeed, James… it does.”

“Okay Weiss,” Turner said as she looked through her binoculars. “These things have a range ya know!” Bonita lowered them and strained her green eyes, shaking her head at her Team Lead’s shortsightedness. It was then that she saw three men approaching the car. One was already holding up his identification as he walked around to her side of the car.

“Weiss is about to be reassigned,” he said in a calm, clear voice.

“Oh God!” Turner said in shock. “There’s no way they’re blaming him for what happened in Vallegrande!”

“That’s not even in my pay grade, Turner,” the agent said as he put his ID away. “All I know is you’re on a new team and we’ve got wheels up in less than thirty. Care to give us a lift?”

Bonita quickly hit the power lock button to allow entry. “Yeah, like I got a choice.”

“Just trying to keep things friendly,” the man said as he got in the car behind Bonita.

“Much appreciated,” she said as she started the car. “Sorry about the lack of space, but I’m kind of a manual transmission type of girl.”

“As long as it gets us to the airport, we’re good.”

“See you around, Weiss,” Turner thought. “I hope anyway.”

“I’ve had chattier hitchers,” Bonita observed as she continued her drive. “Not a word spoken and nobody’s buckled up. Now why do I get the feeling that’s not because they trust my driving so much as they might need the mobility?” She looked at them. They were the ultimate gook-squad; each of them of medium height, medium build and forgettable dark features. She wondered how far cloning had truly been allowed to go.

“Could you speed it up?” the man behind her asked. “Kelvetski is a bit of a hard ass when it comes to timetables.”

“Kelvetski’s the Team Lead?!” Turner shrieked.

“Did I fail to mention that before?” the man replied with a slight smile.

“You sure as hell did!” Turner said in excitement. “I can’t believe this!”

“Yeah, yeah…” the man riding shotgun said flatly. “Greatest moment of your life, I’m sure.” The man pointed to her left at a side street. “Turn left here. We need to go in the back way.”

“Oh, okay,” Bonita said as she looked to where the man was pointing.

The man behind her came forward. Bonita had been directed to turn her eyes away from the rear-view mirror which might have warned her of the attack. But the side mirror worked just as well and her left hand came up in time to keep the wire garrote from her neck. However, her attacker pulled back as hard as he could and Bonita screamed as the wire cut through her jacket sleeve and into her wrist. It would be seconds before it would cut through the bone and remove her hand… she would still be screaming when her neck would break. The man riding in the rear behind the passenger seat reached forward and grabbed the top of Bonita’s head and her hair and pulled back. Now she was looking at the top of her car as she was being choked. The man riding shotgun must have grabbed the wheel because the car did not swerve at all.

Bonita screamed hard and loud. Not just because she was in pain, but to clear her mind. It was what she had been trained to do. There was simply too much going on in the car at the same time. She had to focus and with only her voice in her ears, it was easier to a get a hold of things. She could not feel her left hand but her wrist was killing her. She moved her left foot under the clutch pedal and depressed the switch. Two blast packs stored in the backs of the front two seats exploded, sending caltrops into the rear of the car. The rear window was cracked into thousands of tiny blood-soaked pieces. Two down!

Bonita screamed again but this was 100% pain. The man to her right had driven his fist into her ribs. There was a good chance he had broken at least one of them.

“There is no flee,” she thought. “Fold and die or fight and live!”

Bonita sent her right hand down for the man’s crotch and she squeezed for all she was worth. She had high aims, but the body positioning did not allow for the effect she was looking for; she might have just turned him on. The man was able to grab her wrist with his right hand. The strength of his grip weakened her hand. His left backfist hammered up against her face. This mangler knew what he was doing with his hands, because now Bonita was dizzy. She floored the accelerator and turned the wheel hard to the left. As the man moved to grab the steering wheel, her backfist found his eye and Bonita grabbed the back of his head as her car crashed into the corner of a building. It was a very old building, built in a time when people wanted things to last. The building would need a new front window, maybe some paint, and a tablespoon of spackle… Her car was totaled! Her airbag had kept her in her seat, but all that was left of the last man was handful of his hair in her hand. He had gone through the windshield and smashed into the front of the building. The car had failed to penetrate the wall… the man’s body made far less of an impression.

“Don’t lose consciousness, Turner!” she told herself, moving her black hair out of her face. There was too much blood and way too much to explain here and now. The locals would lock her up without a second thought. Bonita opened her door and staggered away from her car. She metered her breathing and talked herself through each action she took, every step she made, when to look left and right and when to keep walking. She willed herself down the side street she had been told to take and entered the first alley she came to, praying for a break. She reached to the small of her back and next to her gun she found her cell phone. She took out the phone and entered the five-digit code before hitting the call button.

“Hello?”

“They made me,” Turner said as she gasped, struggling to remain awake. “I put three down, but I’m injured and about to lose it. Please tell me-”

“What have you got, Turner?”

“The Vatican… footage of the robot and… confirmation that… Seaver-” Bonita collapsed in the back of the alley, but the suspicious bystanders did not have time to draw close to her before a van stopped in front of the alley and left with the unconscious woman.

She licked her lips as she winced. This particular headache was going to be with her for a while, but in no way was it in the running for the worst of all time. But what a blessed pain to feel! A quick application of her talent and she ached even more, though she smiled at the pain. The smile did not last long. Consciousness awakened her senses, and the report they gave was not a good one.

“Things are never boring in Five Pointes, are they?” Wilma asked as she opened her eyes. Sound was always more difficult than sight for her. As she expected, there were at least three very powerful lights shining directly on the place where she was being held. Her captors did not want her seeing their faces. They obviously did not want her moving, either, with the restraints they had applied to her ankles, wrists and waist. They were anchored to a hard stone wall that was cold, even to her perception. The brick was also very thick, too thick for her talents. They had to have been very deep underground, beneath the dreaded Cellars.

“What are the chances they could be Adumbralin?” she thought. “I’m quite sure one of them would’ve turned around by now. Children of the Darkeseed are always so paranoid!”

“Hardly boring,” a deep and scratchy voice responded to her. “You’re a long way from home, Scholar.” The voice was meant to throw her as well. As if she would not be able to feel the vibrations within the pitch and tone, and feel the all too perfect meter of something machine-made. Besides, only Negatroix would be stupid enough to call a Scholar a Scholar. It took all the fun out of the game!

“Blast!” Wilma concluded. “Tech-ridden Negatroix!”

“Distance is relative, my child,” she said with a bright smile before she stammered and then screamed. The restraints had been rigged to deliver energy bursts! It felt like electricity, but it had been given a push of another energy source… probably to confuse her.

“We’re not in a playing mood, Armonyean Witch!” the voice barked. “You know what we want and you’re going to tell us where we can find it.”

“Armonyean Witch is a bit redundant, isn’t it?” Wilma asked before she was made to scream again.

“Having a hard time controlling the energy flow of the restraints?” the voice asked. “This is not our first time with your kind. Now where is it?!”

“Where is what?!” Wilma screamed in frustration. “How can I tell where something is if I don’t know what you’re talking about?!”

“You see?” Feddle whispered to his friends. “She’s even lost her telepathic ability.” The four of them sat behind the console controlling the lights and the power feed into the restraints. The entire arrangement was portable and potent. Saubma was the first to giggle as she touched Feddle’s arm. While the Dai-Dai brothers continued to laugh, the young Tech Scholar looked up into the deep blue eyes of Saubma Lonn and he wanted to forget why he was there.

“Mind on your work, sonny,” Wilma said calmly and all four of them jumped and turned around, only to be blinded by their own lights. Even blind, Feddle’s hand was unerring and moved quickly to kill the lights.

“So,” Wilma said, folding her arms and allowing the image of her body to fade from the restraints. “This is your rig! I know who to deal with last then.”

Saubma screamed and as Feddle moved to protect her, Seko moved to draw his gun. His younger brother opted to flee and Wilma smiled as she unfolded her arms.

“This is going to hurt,” she whispered as the young man fired. A swipe of her hand and the bolt turned hitting Seko’s young brother in the back. There were far too many sparks to believe the bolt had actually penetrated skin.

“Impressive body armor!” Wilma exclaimed. “You children came ready to play!”

“Play with this!” Seko Dai-Dai screamed as he lowered his aim and fired again. The bolt hit the ground just in front of Wilma, kicking up smoke and debris. A very good blinding technique! These Negatroix youth were at the very least creative. Wilma lifted her left arm to protect her face as her right hand caught a piece of the debris.

“Oh, I love paying catch!” Wilma said as she threw the stone fragment. Seko was not able to get off a third shot as the fragment struck the nerve in his shoulder and his entire arm fell limp to his side.

“Now if you stop right now,” Wilma yelled, throwing out her arms, “… no one else has to be injured, maimed or killed! I will freely admit, my earlier statement had a very… well let’s just say not too much of a friendly overtone to it. But let us also remember I awakened bound to a wall! In the regards of poor first impressions, we are quite even!

“Now,” she continued in a more relaxed tone as her arms lowered. “… I cannot stand Tech! But you little scrappers have touched my heart and I would rather leave this place knowing there were four measures of hope for the Negatroix.

“Child, you may think those controls to your Tech-Frame are silent,” Wilma cautioned the young lad who had been stuck by the bolt of his brother’s gun. “To be sure, they are more quiet than most. But did you know your fingers crack every time the muscles and tendons call for them to move? I don’t even know what your Frame can do, but I do know I’d be a fool to let you reach it unchallenged. We have an opportunity to talk to each other and reason this out!

“Let me start,” Wilma pleaded. “I can sense you are eager and earnest in your search. Recognize I am a Ji-Ton Scholar of the Second Order. Somewhere you have my robes and in them-”

“We have seen your seal,” Feddle called out. “If you give your word we know you will not lie.”

“Then you have my word, young one,” Wilma said quickly yet softly and she could hear the one-armed brother gasp in shock. “I will not lie to you. Your turn. Can we talk using only communicative words and part from this place with our lives intact?”

“The greeting of an Armonyean Council Gathering,” Feddle declared. Wilma flashed a genuine smile. Forget that these children were gifted with Tech… they were simply gifted. Old enough to have their desires give them purpose and young enough to keep their minds open to the means and measures of others. “Accepted and returned,” Feddle said, giving the customary response. “Sit and speak,” Feddle directed her to an open chair.

“First things first,” Wilma said as she walked over to Seko who did not take too kindly to her approach. But her countenance was too warm and her movement too passive for him to mount an attack. Besides, Feddle had spoken for all of them. This was his show, after all. Seko just laid there as the woman took hold of his arm and tapped his shoulder, returning the ability for him to use it at will. “There you are, good as new.” She blinked her eyes rapidly and Seko was quick to move. He took a firm hold of her shoulder and helped her to the chair.

“Incredible,” he thought. “She’s still so weak!” By the time she was seated the dazed look was once again wiped from her face and she focused her attention directly on Feddle who turned his chair to face Wilma.

“Should we be doing this?” Saubma asked. “She’s Armonyean!”

“And never has anyone outside of their path been asked to Gather,” Feddle reported.

“Your history is too short, young one,” Wilma said.

“Feddle,” he corrected.

“And I am Sadaga,” she answered, giving her true and Pointe-side name.

“I am so glad your heart’s ambitions do not cloud your judgment,” she projected to Feddle’s mind.

“Oh, you mean Saubma?” Feddle asked, drawing his blaster and firing on the girl. It was an energy bolt that held an electrical component. While the bolt sparked against her body armor, the current passed through and into her body, attacking the spinal cord. She tried to draw her weapon, but fell unconscious. “She’s just a spy.”

“What?!” Pinto Dai-Dai yelled. Seko’s younger brother was not only shocked, but quite afraid of what this new information would mean.

“She’s an Initiate Inforcer,” Feddle declared, impressing Sadaga even more. “Oh come on, Pinto! How do you think we got the credits to build this hardware?! Don’t you think it has all been a little too convenient?”

“I am sure he does now,” Sadaga said softly.

“You mean you don’t have the heat for her?” Seko asked, slightly confused.

“Of course I do,” Feddle quickly answered, looking at her body. “But she’s never going to cool me. Not unless she thinks it will get her something she can take back to her precious Noble. For meaningless contact I can use a simulator.” Sadaga was struck by the old-man frankness coming out of the young man’s mouth. “Pinto, please put her in the restraints and then sweep her for call-bots.”

“You got it, Feddle!” Pinto said as he jumped to do as he had been told.

“Well, you did say please,” Sadaga mentioned with a slight chuckle.

“And Seko, let’s get our guest something to eat. It’s the fastest way we can help her get her strength back.”

Sadaga nodded her thanks. “We have much to discuss,” she admitted. “Let’s start with what you think I possess.”

“Interesting choice of words, Scholar,” Feddle replied. “It gives the implication that you do not possess what we’re looking for, and given the promise you have stated, that comes as very bad news.”

“Then we should talk about it,” Sadaga said. “And let us look on things as best we can. Should you tell me what I wish to know and I come to find you aims as near, dear and clear as I have observed thus far… well, let’s just say I don’t have what you’re looking for yet!”