“Left Ayn on the 5th… arrived here on the 4th,” Vincent chuckled. “Time travel’s real. Who knew?”
They were inside an empty room, hardly 12 by 12 feet. There was just one tube light hung right above the door in front of them. Suddenly, the sound of a click. The door got unlocked. Vincent raised a hand to calm the squad down. A man in an emerald-green 3 piece suit peeked in.
“Heya V,” he said and then opened the door fully. “Long time no see, eh? Who’s the company?”
The White Bolt chuckled. “Oh, don’t be like that,” he said.
He looked at the squad slowly shifting his gaze from one member to the other. As soon as he saw Hugo, he said, “Well I’ll be damned…” With a shake of the head, he added, “Well don’t just stand there. Come on out.”
The group walked out and found themselves inside a presidential suite of a 5-star hotel.
“Where are we, man?” Marcus asked looking around at the lavish furniture.
“Halifax, Nova Scotia, Canada,” said the man in the suit. “As for this… well, this is my current abode. CHA!”
The Zeta Squad looked at him with raised eyebrows. He always added those bizarre little explosions at the end of sentences, as if life was never complete without a punchline.
“I know you, right?” said Hugo, pointing at the strange man. Then looking at Vincent, he asked, “Is that Fallon?”
With wide open arms, the man whispered, “In the flesh…”
The slim-as-a-straw man was indeed none other than the 35 years old wealthiest man of the arcane world – Fallon. One of the richest overall, he owned a web of hotels, casinos, brothels, and recreational palaces around the world and an underground network of trading and exchange. Arcanists received especial services at his establishments and exclusive packages. But the places were never exclusive. Everyone was served and no distinctions were ever made between plebeians and arcanists. However, this also meant that Mr Fallon’s establishments were frequented by many rogues and aficionados of underground circuits and black markets.
“We won’t stay too long,” Vincent said, moving closer to Fallon. “I just need Bert. Where is he?”
“Hmm, Bert,” he replied, standing arms akimbo, looking at the ground. “Doesn’t ring any bells, V.”
“Come on, jackass! We’re in a hurry!”
He looked up with a smile. “Alright, alright. No need to get all testy. He should be in a recreational spot on the 5th floor… that’s 28 down. Take the elevator to find your man.” Pointing at one of the two men who had walked in after hearing noises, he said, “Help these fine people locate their target without any hassle... Boom!”
The White Bolt looked at Hugo and said, “Send someone down. You’re looking for a middle-aged bald guy, with a ridiculous looking moustache. Name’s Bertrand Bonamassa and he looks like Popeye – bulky, crooked, and always smoking. Find him and bring him up. He will have the information we need.”
Hugo asked Ella and Marcus to head downstairs to find the man.
“But I must warn you, friends,” Fallon said. “Popeye usually had clothes on…”
After the duo walked out, the snazzy, well-groomed man, dressed to kill, walked over to the sofa and sat down. He stretched an arm out and placed it on the back of the sofa and brought one leg atop the other. Excitedly, he asked, “Could I interest you good folk in a cup of tea?”
Camille leaned closer to Gina whispering, “Who the hell is this guy?”
She shook her head. “Hmm, weird would be an understatement.”
“No, thanks,” Hugo said, looking at their host.
“Jolly good,” Fallon said. “A smoke then?”
“No, thanks.”
“Ah, I see you have a limited vocabulary, my friend. May I interest you in a dictionary?”
“Help me understand this first… how do you two know each other?”
“Who? Me and Vince?”
“Who else?”
“Oh…” His excitement quickly withered away as he wore a frown and dropped his head. “You really are dumb,” he said, shaking his head. “He’s a bounty hunter. I’m a rich guy with loads to do… doesn’t take Einstein to do the rest of the math there…”
“I’ll take the tea,” said Vincent as he sat on a sofa chair besides Fallon. “And anything you might have to eat…”
“Aye! Now there’s my man! CHA!”
As his suave assistant brought a trolley full of treats and sandwiches, Fallon leaned closer to the White Bolt and whispered, “Aaaa… need a healer?”
“Ha!” Vincent chuckled then whispered back saying, “Do you think I do?”
The assistant took a cup of tea and handed it to Vincent and then brought out a bottle of wine for her boss.
“Oey, Zeta Squad!” Fallon called. “I know you don’t drink but do you eat?”
Hugo shook his head and looked the other way. Camille, Gina, and Neil walked over and stood close to their captain.
“How does he know who we are?” Camille asked, speaking softly.
Gina looked at her and said, “You’d be surprised by all that this guy knows. You don’t become that rich and influential without knowledge.”
Fallon was a well known person in the arcane community. Whether it was the centralized organizations like the Eye or the Order, or the Cults, or even the rogues and fugitives around the globe, everyone knew him and had to cross paths with him or his people at one point or another. Some just kept a close eye on him and his operations, while others used his services for their own pleasure.
“This is bad though,” Neil added, leaning closer with his arms folded. “These two know each other. They might be up to something.”
Gina glanced at Fallon then said, “Mm… It’s highly unlikely that a man of Fallon’s power, influence, and reach would risk his operations for one man, but then again… that’s not just any man.”
Hugo too had a look over. Fallon and Vincent were having their drinks in silence.
“Never hurts to be careful,” the captain said, agreeing with Neil. He was continuously looking for any telepathic links between the two but could not find any. They were merely having drinks and donuts and sandwiches.
Hugo looked at his team. “This guy is the definition of an opportunist. When the world was reeling with the Ambris debacle, this son of a gun was buying property like mad. He inherited a sizable empire from his late father in the early ‘90s, but the way he has expanded in the last 10 to 15 years is just ridiculous. So, I’d be careful around him anyway. And yes. Like you said, Vincent is no common rogue bounty hunter.”
After a pause, the Zaatsu smiled and added, “However… I am gonna have that cup of tea, if you guys don’t mind.”
The trio looked at each other, then followed their captain to the sofas where they all sat with the entrepreneur and the bounty hunter.
“Jol-ly good, folks!” said Fallon leaning ahead with a big smile on his face. “What can we get you guys? Hey, girl!” He snapped his fingers at the assistant. “Give them some tea and stuff… serve lady, serve!”
The group was served tea, biscuits, cake pieces, and sandwiches.
“Hey, Baylis,” the rich man said, placing his wineglass down. “Last I saw you; you were with those Outsiders.”
Vincent chuckled. The Zeta Squad looked at their captain and stared for a few moments.
“What?” asked Fallon, looking around. “Am I thinking of someone else here? You are Baylis, right? You used to come to our establishments with the Outsiders collecting protection. Haven’t seen you in a while.”
With a shake of the head, the Zaatsu said, “I worked at outposts for the Eye and was on tax collecting duty for quite some time. That’s where you know me from.”
“Ah, I see, I see. It’s just that collectors of your particular kind are always people of interest… if you know what I mean. So!” He leaned back and stretched. “How’ve you been? Heard you got divorced?”
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As a few looks went around, the entrepreneur continued. “Harsh what them Eye folks did to some of those Cults… Blah!”
Gina looked at Camille and Neil who were both staring at Hugo. But the captain kept looking at his teacup.
Eventually, he took a deep breath and leaned back. Looking at Fallon, he said, “Cults played their part and got what was coming. There was nothing anyone could've done.”
Camille subtly shook her head. ‘Yeah, as if one of the most respected Zaatsu has no say in anything,’ she thought. ‘She was your wife...’
“What needed to be done was done,” Hugo continued. “No one challenged the council's orders because there was nothing to challenge.”
Under her breath, Camille whispered, “Never hurt to try for someone who loved you… or someone you loved...”
Fallon looked at the Sokidu and asked, “What’d you say, love?”
Neil, looking at Camille, smiled and whispered, “Not his forte…”
A man with a perfect track record, Hugo Baylis was an exemplary operative of the Eye. He was a smart, talented, and hardworking man. But his personal relationships painted a different picture.
The Zaatsu’s ex-wife was from a Cult which was reprimanded for their failure to act against Ambris in accordance with the Eye’s wishes. Her father, the chief of the Cult, pleaded his case in front of the Parliament, but his voice was never heard. So, obviously he went to his son-in-law – Hugo Baylis. But in spite of their relationship, the Zaatsu refused to help them. And in the end, the Cult was handed heavy fines and was sanctioned. Their business permits were revoked, and they had to buy new ones, their people were banned from practicing wizardry for five years, and many members of their chiefs’ council were sent to the Atramentum.
“Knock it off, you guys,” Hugo said then took another sip. “My duty comes first. Had we started pardoning everyone we knew, things would not have stabilised as quickly.”
Camille and Neil smiled at each other but did not say anything further.
“Wow for the stability,” said Fallon looking up at the ceiling. “Did not know it was here.”
The senior Zaatsu leaned back in his chair and brought a leg atop the other. “But tell me, Fallon,” he said. “When did you employ Mr White Bolt here?”
The entrepreneur laughed. “If I tell you that, I’d have to kill you.” He then looked at Hugo and added, “Bounty-hunter, client privilege… CHA!”
His loud quirk shocked everyone once again. Almost spilling tea over, Gina said, “Would you cut that out!”
Some shouting was then heard outside the room. Fallon nodded saying, “I believe your friends are back.”
Bertrand Bonamassa had been found. Not someone who could win against members of the Zeta Squad, the man was, however, deceptively strong. Along with his tipsy friends, he had put up a decent fight. But the combined might of Ella and Marcus was still far too much for them to handle. They subdued the miscreants in no time.
“Hey Bert!” Vincent said as the man was brought in by his two captors. “Long time no see!”
“Ah! You!” he exclaimed as he struggled to shake the Mystic and Sokidu off. “Fuck it, Vince! The hell’s the meanin’ of this?!”
Bert was a six foot six inches tall man built like a professional weightlifter and had a temper as short as the shorts he was wearing. And the way he had been abducted by the Zeta Squad duo from right in between his frivolous activities had made him as angry as he could ever be. Vincent, however, had a way around it all – insults.
“Calm down, short stuff!” he said, looking away. “If only you hadn’t that tongue of yours…”
“If only it was one on one!” he screamed.
Vincent looked at Ella and Marcus and moved closer to them. He charged his Ki and gave the tall man a swift punch in the gut. Upon the bounty hunter’s signal, the duo let him go. He fell down on his knees clutching his midriff.
“I got this,” Vincent whispered and asked the duo to move away, and they did.
On his knees with his face in the ground, Bert said, “Ya little prick!”
“Talk to me Bert, not your little friend!” the White Bolt screamed in his ears.
He quickly swung at the bounty hunter who evaded the attack comfortably saying, “That the best you can do?”
He was way too fast. Try as he may, but the brute could not land even a single punch. Already beaten up and tired, he quickly began panting and sweating profusely.
“You’re sweating a fountain, bub,” the White Bolt continued taunting. “Save some for the midgets downstairs!”
Neil tried to interrupt but was stopped by Hugo.
“You look as tired as the 97-year-old you’ve been banging since last summer!” Vincent was laughing easily evading Bert’s tired attempts of hitting him.
“Yo, fatso!” he called. “This is even less interesting now than the piece of shit stuck in Fallon’s asshole since last Wednesday!”
Fallon kept cheering them on from the side, puffing up Bert to keep him going. Sofas were tipped over by the charging man. He even knocked down the trolley loaded with dishes.
Eventually, after he had had his fun, Vincent lured Bert to a corner. As the latter charged for one last time, the bounty hunter trapped him inside a curtain blinding him. The bulky man smashed into a wall putting a dent in it and then fell down with his face in the ground once again.
Vincent moved closer and grabbed Bert by the back of his head. Pulling him out of the curtain, he looked at the Zeta Squad and said, “This is Bertrand Bonamassa, and he too is a tongue-man.”
“Well, that explains things,” said Gina and the rest of the squad nodded in agreement.
Bert tried to balance himself but could not. The White Bolt dragged him away from the window and then threw him back-first at a wall. As he fell down, the bounty hunter walked closer. “I need to find Derek,” he slowly said. Grabbing Bert by his burgundy hair, he picked his head up. “Willing to help me with that?”
Panting, Bert whispered, “Fuck yourself…”
Hugo laughed and looked down as Vincent looked at him and smiled. “Maybe I’ll let these guys take over then,” the bounty hunter said, looking back at Bert. “They would love to beat you up and wring the info from your sorry ass.”
He did not reply. So, Vincent leaned closer and continued in a whisper, “One of my friends here is a Magicist Medic. She can help you with the knee you’ve been having trouble with.”
Bert opened one eye and Vincent let go of his hair. Smiling, he said, “Would I ever come to you without a gift, huh?”
He then got up and signalled Hugo to take over who had Marcus and Neil pick up the big man. They sat him down leaning against the wall. Hugo walked over to Vincent and asked, whispering, “What knee? Do you really…?”
Vincent interrupted him. “Forget it,” he whispered in reply. “We’re not giving him anything. We just have to know where Derek is. These tongue-men tend to know about each other’s whereabouts.”
“Why do ya need him anyway?” Bert asked.
“That’s a long ass story, Bert,” Vincent replied. “I don’t have that much time. Just tell me where he is.”
“Well, ya know darn well no one really knows that.”
“I am well aware and have met the man twice.”
“So, I’ve heard…”
“Indeed. Now tell me, where is he.”
“All I know is that he's somewhere in the West Indies.”
Vincent patted Hugo on the shoulder and walked closer to Bert. The captain signalled his teammates to prepare for teleportation.
“I would love a bit more specificity,” Vincent said, squatting next to the big man.
“I’m tellin' ya everythin' I know,” he replied gulping as he tried to catch his breath. “I’m telling ya everythin' I know.”
“How can you be sure he is in the West Indies? Did you meet him there?”
“Look, I met a guy who met him in Barbados at a cricket match or somethin’. But he didn’t actually know where he was stayin’.”
“A resort maybe?”
“Maybe…”
“A hotel…”
“Could be…”
“How’s the knee?”
“Bad.”
“Good.”
Vincent charged his Ki once more and gave him a swift hit on the head knocking him out. The Zeta Squad was already in place for the teleportation spell. So, he walked over to join them.
“That’s it?” Fallon asked staring at the group wide eyed.
“Yes,” Vincent replied with a nod. But before they could leave, he said, “Just do me one more favour. Tell Samantha I won’t be coming home after all.”
Fallon nodded as Hugo looked at the prisoner escort with raised eyebrows, but Vincent never looked at him and just kept standing there quietly. Soon after, the team disappeared and reappeared at the Great Stirrup Cay, an island that is a part of the Berry Islands in the Bahamas, albeit in mid-air. Everyone proceeded to land safely.
“Keep your guard up,” Hugo said as they gathered. “This is a rogue heavy territory.”
Neil asked, “So, what now?”
“Now, it’s time to see whether our new escort can find this mystery man.”
Vincent smiled as Hugo moved closer to him. “Morph thy spirit unto thy escort,” he said, and the duo manipulated their Ki to a matching charge.
“No erratic movements, alright?” Hugo said and placed a hand on Vincent’s chest. “And also… this won’t hold in a battle situation.”
His smile went away as the bounty hunter nodded. “Got it.”
The Zaatsu then moved a few steps back. Everyone saw a faint shadow, made of his Ki, left in his place right in front of Vincent. As the bounty hunter then moved a step ahead, the shadow latched on top of his Ki networks and vanished.
“Now put another lair on top of it,” Hugo said.
Vincent asked, “What for?”
“To hide mine…”
“Oh… understood.”
The Spirit Morphing technique, developed by ancient Roman spies, was seldom used by anyone because it was risky and required an almost inhuman level of precision. First, a faint Ki shadow was produced using a minimal amount of Ki flowing with zero losses. This shadow was attached on top of a host’s Ki networks. Then lastly, the hosts themselves would place another layer of Ki atop of this shadow to hide it. And all three layers had to be in near laminar flow.
“Holy shit!” Marcus whispered. “Hey, Master Baylis, impressive as it is, do you think that’s gonna hold?”
He chuckled. “Yes, Marc,” he said. “If anyone can pull it off, it’s Vincent.”
The outer layer of Vincent’s Ki had to be flowing with perfect consistency. Even a little break and a man of Derek’s potential would certainly sense Hugo’s shadow.
Gina looked at Hugo and said, “But his Ki is limited right now.”
“Hmm, but this technique doesn’t require a lot of Ki,” Hugo explained. “All it needs is precision of flow… which he has plenty of.” Looking at the bounty hunter, he added, “Just don’t get into a fight.”
Saying that he tore up a small piece of Seeker’s scroll paper and handed it to Vincent. He then also broke off a tiny sliver of the graphite tip of his pencil and gave him that as well.
“Hide this under a nail,” he said. “Anything goes off plan, the piece of paper will be in your pocket. Just put your hand in your pocket and draw something on the paper. Even a line will be enough… even a dot will be enough for us to know.”
With all the preparations done, the Squad hitched a boat ride to the Red Bay village, a scarcely populated and removed little settlement at the northwest edge of Andros Island. It was a quarter past one in the morning, local time, and the weather was pleasant with a cloudy outlook. The place was quiet. Sound of waves hitting the shore accompanied them as they walked, led by Vincent, to a small cottage at the edge of the village. The gang was suppressing their Ki as best as possible throwing marker spells all around to detect any Ki charged movement nearby. This was a tough chase, but, as Hugo had discussed with his seniors before, time was of the essence and information was to be had.
