many people,
wizards, and Oni are over there,” he noted, rubbing the back of his neck. “Security
there should be minimal, at least in terms of Oni that might be present. And
there shouldn’t be any wizards. Probably. After all, we aren’t supposed to know
your father is here. On the other hand, there might be quite a few Normals
here, as part of the security staff.”
“That all seems reasonable. But it’s still just a guess,
right?” Capie asked sullenly.
Paul took a moment to study her. She was doing pretty well,
considering the circumstances. But it wasn’t going to last forever. They needed
to rescue her father just as soon as they could, before the stress load grew to
be too much for her.
“Cheer up, dear. They haven’t had him long. Less than ten
hours. They will want to question him, probably in the morning, to find out
what he knows. Then, tomorrow, when McDougall and his Oni don’t report in, they
will probably move your father and set up another trap for us, again using him
as bait.”
Her eyes were tearing up. “We have to save him. Quickly.”
Paul nodded in total agreement, his heart going out to her. “And
we will do just that. Come, we need to get over there using the least amount of
magical energy possible. I propose we find a cab.”
They flew across the airport, avoiding all the air traffic,
and landed near the terminal building. A spell kept the airsoft equipment and
the night vision goggles invisible, though they didn’t try to hide the Motorola
radios or headsets.
Outside the baggage claim area, they hailed a cab and
instructed the driver to take them around to the east side of the River, to
2750 South Capitol Street in Washington D.C. The driver, an elderly Hispanic man,
pointed out that there was virtually nothing at that location, but Paul
responded that they were meeting someone there. With a shrug, the driver drove
out of the airport, taking the GW Parkway north.
The taxi was able to quickly carry them to the I-395 loop
and from there, to the I-695 freeway heading to the southeast of the city and
across the Anacostia River. On the south bank, the interstate became the I-295
which quickly took them to South Capitol Street. Another couple of miles
brought them to a padlocked chain link gate, an entrance to an empty parking
lot in front of a small commercial business.
Across the boulevard, to their west, lay the perimeter of
the Joint Base Anacostia-Bolling military complex.
Paying off the perplexed driver, Paul added a substantial
tip.
Even at this hour of the early morning, there were more than
a few cars using the four lane road, and they had to wait for a gap before
crossing to the west side of the pavement. Then they moved across a short strip
of grass and a set of railroad tracks into a narrow line of trees. In front of
them now was a barbed-wire topped chain link fence with signs declaring it to
be US Government property and that trespassers would be prosecuted.
Using the absolute minimum level of energy, they levitated
over the fence and down to the ground on the west side.
“The motor pool is right up against the other side of that
second fence,” Paul said, nodding at another fence line in front of them.
“We’ll find a vehicle there.”
“How thoughtful of the US Government to give us a helping
hand here. My feet certainly thank them,” Capie said with a great deal of
sarcasm.
Another brief levitation spell and they were into the
central area of the motor pool. The area was brightly lit from several street
security lights mounted high up on aluminum light poles. Around them, they
could see a number of M35 2.5 ton trucks in both green and brown camouflage
paint schemes.
“I see some Humvees over there,” Capie pointed out.
“Let’s hope they left some gas in one of them for us too.”
Choosing the one closest to the motor pool front entrance, Paul
and Capie climbed in, using a spell to start the vehicle and another one to
open the main gate.
Paul
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