Chapter 4

As I reentered to the camp, I could just make out the figure of Farley off to my right, and could detect but not see someone off to my left in the deeper darkness under the interstate. Ignoring them, I made straight for where George and Albert were sitting with a small battery powered lamp between them and the bottle of Bourbon.

“Hand me that bottle,” I demanded as I approached them, and they passed me the bottle. Raising it to my lips, I took a long drink, my throat working several times. The Bourbon burned like fire all the way to my stomach, where it hit like napalm, setting it on fire. The fire there was nothing compared to the rage that burned in me now nor the demand for revenge that it had created. I sat down across from them and handed back the bottle after a minute or so.

“Who was following us?” George demanded, as I handed him the bottle.

“Don’t worry about it, it was someone I know. He was delivering a message. I told him to never come back here again,” I told him.

“And just how the hell did he know where you are, or that we would be returning at this time?” he demanded in an angry voice.

“He was pretty damn sure where I would be and was willing to wait until I realized that he was here,” I told him trying to avoid any mention of Magic or its use.

“I think you’re lying, and that you’re some kind of undercover cop. We don’t put up with cops,” he finished bringing up the pistol that he had been hiding under his leg. I smiled as I cast another type of spell.

“Go ahead and shoot me,” I told him still smiling.

“You think I won’t!” he demanded in a harsh voice.

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll try,” I told him with a grin, as I also checked my wards around me, in case some of the others decided to intervene.

“You’re an ignorant bastard, Airborne, and I don’t like ignorant bastards,” George said as he pulled the trigger. Nothing happened, the gun didn’t fire. He got a confused look on his face before racking back the slide and pulling the trigger again. Again nothing happened. He frantically went through the entire magazine, and those on watch had moved in closer with each try before he finally stopped.

“What the fuck is wrong with this weapon, Albert?” he demanded in a very angry voice.

“It was working perfectly last week,” Albert told him in a confused voice.

“It didn’t work because I ordered it not to,” I told both of them. They looked back at me strangely.

“What the fuck are you saying?” they both demanded.

“I used a spell that prevented the cartridges from firing. Before I remove the spell, I need to transfer those cartridges away from here to somewhere safe where they can go off. Any suggestions?” I asked them to serious looks of doubt.

“There’s an empty warehouse about a block from here. The walls are masonry not sheet steel,” Albert told me, and I was fairly sure that was where they had tested the pistol previously.

“Yes, I remember it because it was different from the others that we passed,” I told them, and after moving all of the cartridges together using Magic, I transferred them to that warehouse. As soon as they appeared there, I canceled the spell preventing them from firing, and we heard the muffled sound of them going off.

“Jesus, you weren’t kidding. What the hell are you, Airborne?” Albert asked in a near whisper.

“I was a Major in Special Operations and lost most of my team in an ambush in Ashcanastan. We had learned of a very hush, hush meeting of towel-head leaders in an eight story building in the large town near where we were working. We decided to break it up and take out the leaders.

“We appeared outside of the abandoned building well after dark and could sense those inside on an upper floor. After we had entered the building but were still securing it, the Taliban triggered their ambush by blowing up the building and bringing it down on us. I lost most of the team in the initial explosion and the collapse of the building. The rag heads swarmed in before the smoke and dust had even cleared. Those of us left used the same spell that I just used to disable their weapons, but they had caught on to that trick, and many of them had swords or long knives. Only a couple of us managed to transfer out of there.

“They had also coordinated an attack on our base camp that had started when the building exploded, and we reappeared in the middle of a fire fight heavy with RPGs and mortar fire. We lost a lot of people during that attack. The Army pulled me out shortly after that,” I finished.

“Jesus Christ, what are you doing here now?” George demanded.

“They brainwashed me then medically retired me and the others who had survived. That was some four years ago. About ten days ago someone kidnapped my sons. They were murdered and mutilated. My wife hung herself over the weekend on learning they were dead and seeing the pictures. I saw the pictures prior to that and got drunk as a skunk. That’s when I started remembering how to use Magic. I’m here for revenge on the bastards who killed my kids and whoever else is behind them,” I finished.

“What are you going to do now?” Albert asked.

“I was hoping to have the time to find out who was involved locally, but it doesn’t look like I’ll have that luxury now. What I need is ears ... lots of ears out on the streets listening for any hint of a kidnapping or kids being murdered,” I told them.

“What are you going to do if ... when you find them?” George asked, correcting himself.

“Let me worry about that. It won’t involve any of you,” I told him, and saw the relief on both of their faces as they relax.

“We can have the guys spread out across the city and listen for any rumors about kidnapping and murder, but there will need to be some kind of a reward for them to stay interested for long,” George told me.

“There will be food and booze for everyone before I go after those responsible. You know that I can deliver from what you saw tonight. We’ll hit a food warehouse or two for a really big score,” I assured them.

“We’ll get the guys started in the morning,” George assured me.

“They are only to listen. Not to ask any questions or do anything to put themselves in jeopardy,” I reminded him.

Going off to sleep following that, I left George and Albert to attend to organizing the men. The Bourbon had done its job, and I was soon asleep. Awaking at around quarter to seven in the morning, I could see that the sun was already up, and I only had a minor headache from the Bourbon last night. I could hear the other men getting up and getting organized. Shortly, George called them all together and explained what they were to do while panhandling on their rounds across the city today. He was very insistent that they also cover the poorer areas of the city as well but to be careful of the gangs there.

“I would like to speak to the men also,” I told George as he finished. so he waved me forward.

“Airborne would like to speak to you also,” he told them, as I moved up beside him.

“Men, the people that I am after are very dangerous. Your job is to be my ears. Do your best to not be noticed. Do not ask these people that you hear any questions or engage them in conversation unless they speak to you first, and then be as noncommittal as possible in your answers. These people have killed a number of times already and will not hesitate to kill again. Don’t be a victim, be the fly on the wall that isn’t noticed but hears everything that is said. Try to remember where you heard things and who was involved,” I told them.

The meeting broke up then and the men continued with their daily routines. I had part of an MRE for breakfast before setting out with several others to canvas part of the western part of the city that included the Vine City area. I spent a lot of hours that day moving from place to place with intervening stops to listen to people talk. Most of the conversations were of little or no interest, but I did manage to acquire some interesting data, however none of it had anything to do with the kidnapping of my kids.

On returning to the camp that evening, I found it a beehive of activity. Men were returning already, and George and Albert were busy making notes on what they had learned, but problems soon developed.

While there were some old copybooks with useable pages that some of the men had collected previously and some pencils, most of this was quickly used up. George was upset by this problem.

“We are going to to need a better system to record all of this,” he told me.

“And to correlate it,” Albert added, as he used the last of their paper to record what one of the men was telling him.

“The men have picked up a lot of information but so far it’s all about things other than your kidnapping,” George told me.

“Yes,” I agreed, “We need to acquire a better way to record all of this information. I never considered that they would report such a large volume of information. What does it cover?” I asked.

“Everything!” George said in a disgusted voice. “Everything from pimping to drugs to racketeering, political dealings, blackmail, and murder,” he finished.

“Yes, we are definitely going to need a much better way to record all of this, that’s for sure,” I agreed on hearing the range of information being brought in. “Looks like I need to take a trip to acquire some supplies, but what?” I asked.

“Three by five cards,” Albert told us. “We can record all of this on three by five cards and separate it by the type of information,” he continued.

“That should work,” I agreed.

“More pens or pencils,” George added.

“All right, I’ll see what I can acquire,” I told them.

“Take Mike with you. He knows where things are in the various big box stores,” George told me and turned to call a man over to him.