The Operative : A Division 13 Story Read online

  Contents

  Title

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  ELEVEN

  TWELVE

  THIRTEEN

  FOURTEEN

  FIFTEEN

  SIXTEEN

  SEVENTEEN

  EIGHTEEN

  NINETEEN

  TWENTY

  TWENTY-ONE

  TWENTY-TWO

  TWENTY-THREE

  TWENTY-FOUR

  TWENTY-FIVE

  TWENTY-SIX

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  TWENTY-NINE

  THIRTY

  THIRTY-ONE

  THIRTY-TWO

  THIRTY-THREE

  THIRTY-FOUR

  AUTHOR NOTES

  Contact me:

  Special Mentions

  Thank you for reading

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Copyright

  The Operative

  By

  Orlando A. Sanchez

  A Division 13 Story

  ONE

  “I SHOULD KILL you and collect.”

  Franco breathed on me with two-day-old cigarette breath. The creature standing next to him didn’t smell much better. The odor from the ogre was a mix between vomit and garbage with a sprinkle of old cigars. It was all scars and muscle, towering over most men by a good two feet. Not incredibly intelligent, but efficient as a killing machine.

  I looked out the window and saw only trees. We were in the middle of Nowhere, New Jersey, if my mental compass was right, and it was always right. Luca and her crazy plans. Why do I have to be the bait? Especially with an ogre?

  “Take a number,” I managed through the stench and tried holding my breath against the onslaught of odor surrounding me. The rope cut into my wrists as the mountain of monster buried a fist into my side, playing a melody of pain on my ribs, and ending my feeble attempt at olfactory resistance.

  Franco stood to the side. A small man with big plans, he came up on our radar because he was sloppy. A human dealing with non-humans is a criminal offense depending on the extent of the transaction. A human trafficking humans to monsters and you get our violent attention.

  Franco shook his head, narrowed his beady eyes, and tapped the meatgrinder on the shoulder. He crouched down to look me in the face. His greasy, slicked-back hair reflected the light from the bulbs overhead.

  “I told you not to take the job, Ronin. I warned you.”

  “I don’t take direction well.” I turned my head from the smoke he released into my face.

  “That much we can agree on. Now you have to be an example. Why didn’t you listen?”

  “You were selling women and children to ogres,” I said, my voice hard. “If you tell me who you sold them to, I promise it’ll be fast.”

  “So self-righteous,” he scoffed. “The Division is just as corrupt. Your hands are just as dirty. You should have listened.”

  “What can I say? I’m hardheaded.”

  Franco nodded, stepped back, and motioned to the ogre. The brute proceeded to test just how hard my head was by driving his fist into my face—repeatedly.

  When the pummeling stopped, and the room stopped spinning, Franco was in my face again.

  “I like you,” he said. “I don’t want to hurt you, but you brought this on yourself.”

  The sadists’ mantra—a variation of the same speech every battered wife has heard. I spit blood on the floor and felt the swelling rise on my face. My left eye was closing rapidly as the blood and liquids rushed in to deal with the damage.

  “I’m flattered, really, but I would appreciate it if you liked me less—hate me, even.”

  “Your Division 13 has abandoned you.”

  “Division 13 doesn’t exist.”

  “Of course it doesn’t. And this is all a bad dream,” he said, stretching his arms to the side.

  Director Sauveur’s voice, the head of Division 13, droned in my memory.

  Division 13 Standard Protocol Subsection 4.1 Section 2 Apprehension and Exfiltration.

  An operative captured or otherwise apprehended during the course of a mission will be disavowed and neutralized wherever possible to prevent the dissemination of classified information.

  “I wasn’t abandoned.”

  “Perhaps I should give them a call? How much do you think a technomancer is worth?”

  “Franco.” I stared at him hard. “That would be unwise. Five minutes after you make that call, there’s going to be a large violent knock on your door. This building will be dust, along with all of us.

  “Bullshit,” he sneered. “There’s a five-million-dollar bounty on your head.”

  He was greedy and stupid. Bounties did the heavy lifting for us. The idiots fell for the bait and we would rain down death from a distance. There was an elegance in its simplicity. He picked up the phone and I shook my head.

  “Last call you make.” He pressed the code and I knew we were on borrowed time. Five minutes. I set the counter in my head. The call was on speakerphone.

  “You have something for me, Franco?” Luca’s voice, a sultry blade too sharp to hold. She would cut you with a glance. God, I missed that voice.

  “I have Ronin.”

  “I need proof of life.” He looked at the ogre, who lumbered next to me. I let my breathing say what I couldn’t. Franco nodded and the ogre delicately crushed another rib, forcing me to grunt in pain.

  “Hello, Ronin,” I heard her say through the haze of pain.

  “Luca,” I growled when I caught my breath. “It’s really been too long.”

  “Not long enough, my love. Cinco respiraciones, cinco muertes, una vida.”

  Five breaths, five deaths, one life. It was a kill order. Shit, she was going to erase Franco, the ogre and probably everything in a two-hundred-yard radius of the house. I had less than five minutes to evacuate.

  “He’s alive, for now,” Franco said. I could practically see the dollar signs in his eyes.

  “Make sure he stays that way.” Her voice was smooth, a blade sliding between my ribs. “We’ll be there shortly for ex-fil.”

  “And the bounty?”

  “The bounty will be deposited once we have possession of Ronin. Await for ex-fil.”

  Franco hung up.

  Ex-fil my ass. She would drop an Omnidirectional Repercussive Blast device and obliterate everything at my position to facilitate my extraction via explosion.

  Four minutes thirty seconds until I was a memory along with this idiot. Being bait was one thing, being atomized would seriously ruin my day.

  I looked from Franco to the ogre. I needed them angry, irrational, and I didn’t have much time in which to do it. The ogre would be easy. Their default was simmering rage at the best of times. I just needed to nudge Franco a bit.

  “Franco, you are truly too stupid to live. Do you really think they’re going to pay the bounty?” I turned to the ogre. “What did he promise you? Whatever it was, he lied.”

  Ogres weren’t highly intelligent, although I’d run into some who could hold a conversation and even wield weapons. This one was on the denser side of the ogre bell curve, but he understood what I implied.

  “Don’t listen to him,” Franco said. “You work for me. Once I get the money—”

  “No money,” I said, raising my voice. “He has no money.”

  “Shut the hell up. Do you want to get him pissed?” He turned to the ogre. “He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. The money is coming
and then you get as many girls as you want.”

  “You piece of filth, scum,” I said and spat on the floor. “That goes for the ogre too.”

  Franco laughed. I was down to three minutes.

  There was one language every non-human understood. We only knew it as the Old Tongue and every operative had to learn it or be retired from the Division.

  I spoke the low guttural language and the ogre cocked its head at me, widening its grotesque eyes. My Old Tongue was a little rusty, but I assured the ogre that Franco was planning to steal all the money and take the girls for himself.

  It was either that or I had just proposed on Franco’s behalf. The ogre whirled on Franco and swung a massive arm, connecting with his head and sending Franco soaring across the room. In a few seconds, the ogre would turn those hate-filled eyes in my direction. I pulled on the rope and pushed off my feet. I flew back several feet and shattered the wooden chair I was strapped to.

  I rolled to my feet as the ogre turned to face me. I needed my techbrace. I saw it sitting on the table, right behind the angry ogre who wanted to smash me.

  Two minutes, and I needed a name.

  TWO

  I FEINTED LEFT and rolled right.

  The ogre cratered the floor where I’d sat a second earlier as I darted for the table and grabbed my techbrace. I placed it on my forearm and winced against the initial pain as it fused to my skin and purred to life. I felt the power course through my body as it reconnected to my neural network.

  The ogre rushed at me and swiped at my head. I ducked under the massive arm and led with an uppercut to the chin. The blow lifted it off the floor a few inches and sent it sprawling back, dazed. It took one awkward step followed by another before collapsing face first.

  I ran to where Franco lay groaning and grabbed him by the neck.

  “Who did you offload to?”

  “No one,” he lied. “I haven’t made the deal yet.”

  “You lying piece of—”

  My techbrace chirped and I looked at the display. I pulled Franco close and showed it to him.

  “But the bounty?” he whined. “She said there would be a bounty.”

  “You have one minute to tell me who you delivered to and maybe I can stop it.”

  “Bruce…it was Bruce!” he yelled. “Stop it, please.”

  “Too late,” I whispered, looking at my techbrace. I stood and ran for the window, crashing through it. I landed in a roll and kept running. The hiss of the drone buzzed over me and I forced my legs to move faster. In a few seconds, it would drop a tennis-ball-sized sphere over the house and vaporize everything in a two-hundred-yard radius.

  I ran behind some trees, putting them between the house and me, when I felt the change in air-pressure. I put in my earplugs and grabbed a tree. A high-pitched sound preceded the blast wave that raced across the ground and slammed into my back, breaking my grip, and bouncing me into a few trees before I lost consciousness.

  THREE

  I LOOKED UP into a beautiful pair of green eyes. Luca looked down at me, scowled, and placed a hand on my chest. She touched her techbrace, took my readings, and gave me a short nod and a quick slap. She was about as gentle as a brick to the back of the head.

  “All your vitals check out.” She looked above me and gave an all-clear sign. “Sanitize.”

  “Next time, you’re the bait,” I said, sitting up with a groan as my everything hurt. “Do you know what ogres smell like?”

  “You let them remove your techbrace. Do you realize we were minutes from a full blitz? Don’t do that again.”

  “You say that like I had a choice.”

  She crouched down and brought her face close to mine. “You always have a choice,” she said, our lips nearly touching.

  “You weren’t the one dealing with rancid ogre BO.” I winced as I twisted my body. “Or getting your ribs played like bongos.”

  “Stop being such a drama queen. We have work to do. Tell me you got a name.”

  I stood slowly as the cleaning team erased all traces of the house in the distance. Luca was dressed in black combat armor, which hugged her in all the right places, showing off the hours she spent at the gym. Her short brown hair framed her face in a bob cut and she peered up at me over her steel-rimmed glasses.

  I stood several inches above her, but my height never seemed to bother her. As the Division second-in-command and occasional acting director, she was a lethal combination of intelligence, determination, and drive. I trusted her with my life. She was still going to be the bait next time, though.

  “Who is it?” she asked, glaring at me.

  “You’re not going to like it.”

  “I haven’t had my coffee yet. Do you realize how precarious a situation you find yourself in? The name.”

  “Bruce,” I said. “Franco said he off-loaded to Bruce.”

  “Bruce…Are you certain?”

  I nodded and stepped back as she swung at the nearest tree punching a hole in the trunk. Pieces of wood and bark flew in every direction.

  “Fuck me,” she hissed. “Do you know the shitstorm this is going to cause?”

  “Women and children,” I said quietly.

  She whirled on me and got in my face. “Don’t you dare ever try to tell me the stakes. I know what’s in play here.”

  “I know. But if Bruce is involved…”

  She pulled out a phone and pressed a button.

  “This is Luca, voice authorization 002,” she said and paused. “Yes. Closure and containment protocol. Location: The Abyss, effective immediately.”

  “Oh, Bruce is going to love that.”

  “This is my ‘I give a shit’ face. He gets dirty—dirtier than usual—I bring the hammer down. Humans are off-limits…period.”

  “You know he’ll go to the Council.”

  “I’ll deal with the Council. He should know better. Get them back and explain to Bruce why getting on our radar is bad for business. Violently if necessary. Jude will meet you downtown.”

  “Jude? He just joined the Division.”

  “And needs training…by you.”

  “You know I don’t people well.”

  “Then this will be good training for you as well.”

  “In the field? Really? Has he even learned the Old Tongue yet?”

  “He has you for that. Keep him alive and show him what it means to be a Division 13 operative. You’ll have full tac-support if you need it. Try not to need it. Find out who the buyer is or erase the Abyss. No collateral damage.”

  “Are you certain?” I said as I stopped walking away. “That’s going to do more than just piss off some trolls.”

  “Get this done without collaterals. We have enough friction with the NYTF. Say it.”

  “No collateral damage. You realize Bruce is a troll, right?”

  “I’m aware. Do not screw this up.”

  “Convince Bruce to give up the name to the buyer, because trolls have been known for their cooperation. Find the victims and avoid collateral damage. Does it count if I sustain damage?”

  “No, it doesn’t. Get the women and children,” she said, her voice ice. “Get them back, go speak to Bruce and find me this buyer. Now.”

  I knew better than to try to continue the conversation. I jumped into the Cuda, my 1970 Plymouth Hemi Barracuda specially outfitted to Division 13 standards.

  The engine roared and then settled into a low throaty growl before I gave it gas. It roared as I headed east into the city to convince an angry troll to divulge his buyer for trafficked humans.

  “This is going to be a rough day.”

  FOUR

  I PULLED UP a few blocks away from the Abyss, an exclusive supernatural club located in downtown Manhattan. Judging from the activity around the club, it’d stopped being exclusive about two minutes after Luca made the call. I saw the flashing blue NYTF light bars and kept my distance. We never dealt with local law enforcement.

  I pulled out my phone and dialed a number.

/>   “Division 13, Jude here,” the voice at the other end answered. He sounded young, which meant he was connected or gifted. Either one meant a headache for me.

  “No one answers the phone with Division 13,” I snapped. “We don’t exist. Has no one briefed you?”

  “Sorry, who’s this?”

  “Where are you?” I could practically see him looking for the street signs. “Nevermind, come to the corner of North Moore and Greenwich. I’ll be the one standing next to the scary large black vehicle.”

  “Yes, sir,” he chirped. “On my way.”

  I groaned as I hung up and whispered a silent curse at Luca for punishing me this early in the morning. Jude walked over wearing the standard D13 uniform. Dark suit, dark shirt, and dark shoes.

  I don’t know who thought looking like morticians would help operatives blend in, but it seemed to be at least partly effective. Unless I was wearing combat armor, I kept to my dragonscale-laced Armani.

  “Are you Mr. Ronin?”

  “It’s just Ronin.” I extended a hand and we shook. He had a good firm grip, which helped me not dislike him completely.

  “Pleasure to meet you, sir,” he said with an extra pump of my hand. The word effervescent came to mind. He was too bubbly for his own good.

  I growled in response. Luca couldn’t expect me to have an actual conversation before coffee.

  “I’ve done my homework, sir. Have you worked with Luca, sir? What’s she like? I’ve heard the stories.”

  “Don’t ever mention the stories to her.”

  “Pardon me?”

  “Do you enjoy unassisted breathing?”

  “Yes?” He gave me a quizzical look. I don’t unders—?”

  “Would you like to continue to do so?”

  “Yes.”

  “Don’t ever mention the stories. What’s your name again?”

  “Jude, sir. Mrs. Luca”—I raised an eyebrow at him—“Luca said to be here on site and wait for you.”

  I leaned against the warm hood of the Cuda. I kept the engine running because despite appearances, this was a combat situation in flux. It was only a matter of time before the combat portion of the evening started.

  “Tell me, Jude, what do you know about magic?”

  May as well get the training started.