Guardians of the Gates - Part 3, The Osiris Gate by Jeff Schanz (best book club books for discussion .TXT) 📖

to keep them at bay very long, and threatening them with a pistol was half-hearted at best, since he had just smugly informed them all that firing a weapon in a plane was near suicidal. So, he had a decision to make whether he was suicidal, or surrendering.

Twice in a week now I’ve had to wonder whether I’m suicidal or screwed. I already decided on that roof before I jumped off. Has anything changed?

The situation felt nothing like the roof. This one still felt winnable. But what the hell gave him that impression? Severinus thought he had the situation in hand, with good reason. Harris was muting his thoughts somewhat, but he did give away the fact that things were very much under control. The soldier had no compulsion to disobey orders, and seemed to not be at odds with those orders at all. That was actually the weird thing. You’d think a soldier would at least have some kind of conscience about working for this son of a bitch, even if he ignored it to carry out his orders. Money wasn’t enough to completely bury disgust at your task. But the soldier was completely at ease. He and Harris were now next to Severinus. Sebastian held the pistol forward, unsure if he would dare use it, though at least it made his adversaries hesitant.

“This is dead wrong and you know it, Sergeant Major,” said Sebastian, appealing to what he hoped was the most reasonable person in the general vicinity. “I don’t care what you do to me, but this asshole is helping an even bigger asshole destroy innocent lives. Ashe is going to poison this whole world with dimensional energy that could victimize billions of people. You’re the one who told me that. There’s no way you can really be that ok with this, despite whatever money or favors this dickhead promised you. Come on, you don’t have to do this. No one needs to get hurt, and we can all stop that monster, Ashe, together.”

Epic speech, Braveheart, said the voice inside Sebastian’s head. His conscience, or argumentative shoulder angel, spoke with Mars’ voice, and Sebastian called it Jiminy Mars. Got goosebumps, it said.

Sarcastic tone aside, Jiminy Mars was right to mock his speech. These men had already weighed the value of what they were doing long before this moment. Sebastian’s little entreaty was pathetic and useless. There was one small consolation, however, which was that he truly doubted that any of the three standing men would kill him. Severinus had come here to arrest Sebastian. Granted, not “arrest” in the civilized world’s manner of the word, but in the kangaroo court, “Salem witch trial” sort of way. Harris wasn’t here to kill anyone either. Sebastian could’ve died on the rooftop, and even in the river, without Harris’ help, so it made no sense to save his butt just to off Sebastian on a plane. And the soldier behind Harris would do whatever Harris said, which made him a secondary consideration. Lucian was the wildcard. He was the backup plan should Sebastian resist arrest. Which, of course, he did. Then Sebastian resisted the backup plan as well. And yet, according to everyone’s minds, the “plan” was still in place. That meant Sebastian had some kind of value in staying alive. Was Harris’ plan to just slap a pair of cuffs on Sebastian and wait until Severinus’ men could take custody once they land? Or were his orders to take Sebastian down in event of an emergency? And was this moment an emergency?

Harris wasn’t giving up his answer mentally. And Sebastian was starting to believe he had accomplished nothing except piss off two dangerous men and gained no ground. Maybe Severinus was correct when he had said, “There is no situation where you win.”

Suicide or surrender? He was sick of this particular choice.

He was still internalizing the debate when the soldier handed Harris a little device that looked like an overweight electric shaver with pinchers. Harris touched a button and a spark crackled between the prongs. It made a loud pop like someone bursting a bubble on a sheet of packing plastic.

Harris gave Sebastian a strange, conspiratorial smile.

Sebastian was at first confused, then angered by the enigma, and then resigned because he assumed he was misinterpreting the gesture and Harris was just being sardonic. Harris would’ve correctly guessed that Sebastian wouldn’t shoot. And even if he did shoot, there would be a dozen soldiers on Sebastian before anything else could happen. So, since gunfire was off the table, Harris would’ve calculated Sebastian’s most dangerous option would be to use his martial arts skills to fight them all off. Which, against fourteen trained fighters, would result in the same end for Sebastian. Well, he may not shoot, and he may not succeed in fighting them all off, but whoever attempted to take him down would not leave without injuries and some sour memories of the encounter.

Sebastian quickly tucked the gun into his waistband and shifted into a ready stance. Harris looked strangely satisfied. Severinus looked downright happy, in an evil way. If Lucian was too incapacitated to twirl his Dick Dastardly mustache, maybe Severinus could borrow it. As it was, he only had the same nefarious glint as the cartoon villain. Harris reached forward with the stun gun and Sebastian prepared to knock it out of his hand. What happened next was unexpected and made Sebastian freeze in dumbfounded shock.

The Sergeant Major swung his hand abruptly to the side and pressed the stun gun against Severinus’ neck. He pushed the button and Sebastian heard the pop from the full charge, though no arc of electricity was visible. That had gone through Severinus’ neck. The sudden intense nervous system overload made him jerk for several seconds before he collapsed to the floor. Sebastian’s dumbstruck look begged the question – “What the hell just happened?” Instead of explaining, Harris turned and took a step back toward the still struggling Lucian. Lucian had managed to get one knee and one hand firmly underneath him as he wobbled from the concussion’s lingering fog. He was blinking away the cobwebs and reaching into his empty gun holster when Harris hit him with the stun gun. Lucian blew a wad of saliva out of his mouth before he shivered and crumpled back onto the floor.

Harris stood up and motioned for his team of soldiers to gather up the two incapacitated men. “Tie ‘em up, and stick ‘em over there behind those crates. I don’t want to see their ugly goddamned faces until we land,” said Harris.

Sebastian couldn’t remove the stunned expression from his face. He probably resembled a dying fish on a dock gasping for breath. With effort, he gathered enough control to utter a question. “What do you plan to do with me?” he asked Harris, cautiously.

Harris narrowed his eyes in a pitying stare and shook his head. “Nothing, son. I think we got enough out of that sum-bitch. No need for more games.”

Games? We’ve been playing games?

Although he did not feel immediately threatened, Sebastian was off balance with the new twist to an already twisted situation. Harris wasn’t advancing with the stun gun yet, but perhaps he should be discouraged from doing so, just in case. Sebastian placed his hand on the handle of the pistol in his waistband. Harris gave him an annoyed glance and pocketed the stun gun.

“You want me to explain, or would you rather just have a goddamned shootout right here?” asked Harris. “I thought you were a mind reader.”

Sebastian wanted to flip the Sergeant Major the bird and argue for the umpteenth time that he didn’t read minds, he heard thoughts that are spoken within said minds. But he wasn’t exactly in a prime position to either defend his honor, or defend his life. He decided to roll with this new development and removed his hand from the pistol.

Nodding, Sebastian said, “And I thought you were a guy who didn’t play games. I still don’t trust you.”

Harris shrugged. “I don’t give a shit what you think. But I’ve been ordered to brief you, and since we have a few hours ‘til touchdown and nowhere to go, you may want to listen. Fair enough, son?”

Fair enough.

Sebastian was still a little warm from worrying that he may have to blow a hole in the plane and die along with everyone else. He was recovering quickly though. To initiate the explanation, he figured the direct approach would be the most effective with Harris.

“You can start by telling me what all that shit was about,” said Sebastian.

Harris was in no hurry to do anything. He took his time settling himself back in his seat and produced a cigar and a match from one of his pockets. He lit the cigar and placed it between his grinning teeth. The smoke wafted into Sebastian’s face as he took up Lucian’s former standing position. Sebastian said nothing, just raised a hand and fanned the thicker portions of smoke away.

“Have a seat, son,” said Harris. “We’ve got a while, and it’s a long story.”

“I’m fine where I’m at. Get on with it.”

Harris darkened his expression. “I’m on your side, you jackass. You can quit being a rude sum-bitch and maybe I’ll explain.”

“Stop stalling and maybe I won’t send your head through that wall.” Sebastian’s bravado surprised himself, but he could feel the burn of anger in his belly. He wasn’t sure if his expression matched his emotion, but Harris only briefly looked perturbed before he calmed down and nodded with eyes closed.

“Alright, son,” he said. “I guess you really couldn’t read the situation, huh?”

Sebastian chewed on his lip in an effort not to say anything else. He did get the distinct impression that Harris wasn’t playing another game. He was just being stubborn and combative. As Sebastian was himself feeling right then.

Harris shrugged. To himself, he said, “Where should I start?”

 

 

 

Harris launched into full briefing mode. “Benedict asked me to keep an eye on you. He figured you were being thrown to the wolves, and he was right. He had come to me some time ago with his suspicions that Severinus was playing a traitor’s game, and we had started keeping tabs on him. We didn’t have any proof until that little shit, Turibius, got recruited. Severinus was always a dickhead, but he got worse when Turibius showed up. I still don’t have any official proof, but I’ll be a horse’s ass if Turibius wasn’t using some brainwashing or mind-bending shit on him. We knew the asshole was trouble, we just had to find out what the hell the trouble was.” Harris paused and nodded toward Sebastian, blowing a plume of smoke in his direction. “That’s where you came in. You were on the same trail we were, just different angles. We figured we could use your intel to nail the sum-bitch and get to the bottom of the whole shootin’ match. And it just so happens that you did, and in spades. We didn’t know anything about them ranch assholes you took down, but they added up to a big puzzle piece, didn’t they? Well, we knew we had to get to the endgame quick once Severinus knew you were on his scent, ‘cause you would eventually trace everything to him and Ashe.”

“Honestly, I had no idea that Severinus was even…” started Sebastian. As before, in Jillian’s kitchen, Harris gave him the heavily annoyed stare. “Sorry. Continue.”

“Severinus wanted you out of his hair, so he shut down your status and your Saint account, and then apparently thought up a better plan, reopened your status, and went ahead and turned you in to the London cops. Or at least tried to. Benedict knew what was happening and got his own men, including myself, ready to bust you out if you were captured, but you managed to avoid that.”

Harris paused, expecting Sebastian to interrupt with something self-congratulatory. Nothing came. Harris continued.

“We knew you’d head for your demon friend’s place,