The Jewels of Cyttorak (11 page)

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Every shadow around the log cabin now held danger. Every rock seemed to shift, as if forming into creatures that would tear him apart.

And during it all, the echoing laughter inside his head.

Albert sat on the front porch of his log cabin, his Springfield rifle across his lap, extra shells in his pocket, waiting. Someone or something was coming for him, and for his emerald. He knew that without a doubt.

And he was going to fight to the last, he also knew that without a doubt.

Far over the valley, the slight rumble of a passing jet temporarily overshadowed the sounds of the tumbling river. Albert glanced up at the star-filled sky and the blinking light of the jet. For a fleeting moment he thought about running, staying ahead of what was coming after him.

Then the thought passed, as did the jet.

The sounds of the river again dominated his beautiful valley. There would be no running for Albert Jonathan. He had moved into this valley before anyone living had been bom. He wouldn’t leave it now. At least not without a fight.

And if he did leave, it would be most likely in a pine box. And that was just fine with him, too.

After leaving the Service estate, Scott had turned the
Blackbird
south to the Xavier Institute. All three desperately felt the need for a shower. Gary Service had warned them about the smell of his father, but none of them, accustomed to fighting and death in all forms, had been

prepared for a living man simply rotting away.

To their credit, they had managed to remain in the room with Robert Service Sr. while he told the story of finding the emerald, and what the monk had told him. There was really nothing new he added beyond what his son had already told them.

They had thanked Gary Service and his father and immediately left, heading back for the mansion, a brief trip given the short distance and the
Blackbird
's supersonic engines.

Professor Xavier was waiting for them in his office.

“What did you discover?” he asked.

“A number of things,” Scott said. “First, there seems to be a second gem, an emerald, resembling the crimson ruby of Cyttorak that Cain touched.”

The Professor said nothing, so Jean continued.

“Robert Service Jr. was the first to touch the gem after its discovery thirty years ago by his father,” Jean said.

“And by touching the gem,” Hank said, “the younger Service was changed in a fashion similar to how Cain was changed.”

“But there are differences?” the Professor said, phrasing the statement like a question.

“Clear ones,” Hank said. “Robert is not as large as Cain yet. He’s about a half-foot shorter, and the gem did not attach itself to him.”

The Professor raised one eyebrow at that.

‘ ‘What puzzles me,’ ’ Jean said, “is why would someone who had just gone through such a transformation immediately jump on a plane and head to Idaho?”

“A very good question,” the Professor said. “One I have been asking also.”

“And did Cain know where Robert Service and the emerald was?” Scott said. “From his path and sudden turn around, it would seem that somehow Cain was, and is, after that emerald also.”

‘ ‘Cain has never shown the slightest hint of telepathic powers,” the Professor said. “If he does feel the new gem for some reason or another, it is through the stones themselves, and the power bands of Cyttorak.”

“Triggered when Robert Service picked up the stone for the first time?” Jean said.

“Considering the timing,” the Professor said, “that would be the most logical conclusion.”

“So what do we do now?” Scott asked. “Clear a path for Cain all the way to Idaho?’ ’

“No,” the Professor said. “Offer him a ride.” “What?” Scott said.

Beside him, Hank laughed and said, “Of course.”

Wingate Toole watched on a half-dozen monitors the explosions and fight going on outside his headquarters. Kyle, his thin frame leaning against a chair, stood beside him, saying nothing.

Another explosion rocked the building and jiggled the glassware on the bar.

The monitors and most of the electronic security system of the building was being run on backup power. There was enough to keep the security up, as well as all the computers and office areas, but not enough to light the outside of the building. And whoever attacked must somehow have known that. Or gotten very lucky.

Was this the attack Toole had been worried about? It didn’t feel right. The person or thing he felt inside his head that was coming after him, was distant. Even more distant than the first time he’d had the feeling the night before.

Now, outside, it looked like there was a full assault going on against his headquarters. Yet he could pick up no intruders on the monitors. Just his own men firing into the dark night, hitting who knew what.

In the distance, police sirens were wailing as a dozen cop cars headed in this direction.

Then suddenly it dawned on Toole what was going on and his stomach clamped up tight in fear.

Toole spun around and faced Kyle. “Tell those idiots to stop firing and retreat into the building before the cops get here. This was only a diversion.”

Kyle nodded. Quickly he headed for the door.

Toole turned back to face the security monitors. Then he had another thought. “Kyle, make sure if we have wounded or dead, to get them inside. We don’t want to give the cops any reason to come inside. Understand?”

“Yes, sir,” Kyle said as he ducked out the door.

Ten seconds later all the firing stopped. Toole could see dozens of men crawling up from cover and heading for the entrances to the building. A few of them carried wounded men.

“Idiots,” Toole said to the monitors.

Two blocks away, the first cop car came to a stop, blocking the street. Another slid into place beside it.

By the time all his men were inside and the doors locked down, Toole could see on the monitors that all the streets leading out of the area were blocked.

“Going to be a long night,” he said aloud, laughing at the cops. “Because you’re not going to find anything on those streets at all.”

Behind him, Kyle entered and moved up behind Toole to watch the security monitors.

“Everyone inside and accounted for?” Toole asked.

“Doing a head count now,” Kyle said.

Toole nodded, then had another thought that almost froze him in his chair. Slowly he turned and faced his second in command. ‘ ‘Go back down there and make sure we don’t have an extra guard or two. There was a reason for that diversion and that might just have been it.”

Kyle nodded. Without a word he spun and headed back outside.

Behind him Toole automatically locked the doors, then turned back to the security monitors.

Remy paused in the dark under the old loading dock, then continued in farther under the dock toward the building. Every so often a cobweb covered his face, but he ignored them, feeling his way forward in the almost total darkness over the rough, damp ground.

The smell of mold filled his mouth and nose. He could hear the faint scurrying of rats even over the gunfire going on outside. He had no real idea where this area under the dock would lead, but most likely he’d find a rotted floorboard on this old dock he could come up through somewhere near the building.

And from there it would be easy to get inside.

He reached the wall of the building where the old wooden loading dock was attached. There he got luckier than he had even hoped.

A broken and boarded-over narrow service entrance. This warehouse obviously had something other than concrete floors inside. He knew it wasn’t a basement, because they didn’t have basements in New Orleans. Most of the town was below sea level, and early on the French discovered they couldn’t even put coffins in the ground. They simply floated back to the surface.

But this warehouse had an area under part of the interior flooring, more than likely to run heat and electrical ducts. And that would be perfect for Remy.

As the gunfire suddenly stopped, he pulled off one old, rotted board and leaned it gently against the wall under the opening. A moment later he had the other off and the opening clear.

He went through feetfirst, then pulled the wood with him back up, lodging it into place as best he could so that a quick inspection would show no one had been through there.

The darkness was now total.

He slowly pulled out a playing card and held it up, charging it with just enough kinetic energy so it glowed slightly.

He had guessed correctly. He was in a maintenance and flood drainage tunnel, long forgotten. He walked a hundred feet along the tunnel, noting the places where access chutes lead upward into the building.

Then he laughed to himself softly. No point in going on at this time. Toole would have his men on full alert, knowing the explosions were nothing more than a diversion. So the best plan for this thief would be to sit down and wait until morning, when all the guards were tired, and the heat had been turned down a notch or two. Then he’d give Toole a surprise the man wouldn’t soon forget.

And maybe Remy would even give him a lesson in respect for the old ways of doing things.

Remy looked around for a dry spot, then sat down with his back against a concrete wall.

Ten minutes later he was asleep.

Cyclops brought the
Blackbird
into a soft landing in a freshly plowed field north of Williamsport, Pennsylvania, sending swirling clouds of dust up into the black night air.

Standing in the open field, waiting for him, the Beast, and Phoenix, were the other X-Men on the Juggernaut watch: Storm, Rogue, Wolverine, and Bishop. Behind them was a small, black jet transport, a sleek plane that had been given to them by the Shi’ar at the same time the Shi’ar had upgraded the X-Men’s Danger Room. It had a swept-back hawkish look and at night it seemed a
lm
ost invisible against the dark sky.

The small transport could hold only four X-Men comfortably but, like the
Blackbird,
it had jet speed combined with vertical lift-off and landing capabilities. The only problem was that they still couldn’t decide on a name for it. The argument had been going on for weeks, with Scott’s favorite being
Raven,
which nicely complemented
Blackbird.

No one else much agreed with him, but he still called it the
Raven
anyway. Maybe if he repeated it enough, the name would just catch on.

“Well,” Logan said as they walked over the loose dirt toward their team members. “Are we finally done babysittin’?”

“In a manner of speaking,” Scott said, smiling at Logan. Wolverine had an attitude most of the time, and had been having some problems keeping his animal side

in check lately, but he was as good as they came. Scott had fought many a battle beside Logan, and there wasn’t an X-Man he’d rather have beside him in a fight.

“Great,” Logan said. “Let’s teach that big lunk once-an-fer-all to not go stompin’ around.”

“Well, not exactly,” Scott said. “Sorry, Wolverine.”

Logan snorted. “Figures there’d be a catch.”

“And what exactly,” Storm said, “does the Professor want us to undertake now?’ ’

“We’re going to offer Cain a ride,” Scott said.

Before the others could protest, Storm said, “Perhaps, Cyclops, you should fill us all in on the thinking behind this action.”

Scott nodded. ‘ ‘A fairly short story, so everyone just hold on.”

It took him less than five minutes to explain what he, Jean, Hank, and the Professor had learned on the Service estate.

“Two Juggernauts, huh?” Logan said. “Keeps things interestin’.”

“So offering Cain a ride would serve two purposes,” Storm said.

“Correct,” Scott said. “It would stop the destruction of the countryside and—”

“Lead us to Robert Service and the emerald,” Ororo

said.

Rogue only shook her head and smiled, while Bishop, as would any good soldier, said nothing.

Scott loved how this group of wildly different mutants worked together. They bickered, they fought over small details and methods of attack, but when it came right down to it, they stood side by side. To Scott, they were his family.

Ororo faced Scott. “What plan did you have in mind?”

Scott glanced over at Jean, then faced Ororo again. “Cain will fit in the
Blackbird
.”

“With a shoehorn and a couple good kicks,” Logan said. “An’ I’ll be glad to do the kickin’.”

Scott ignored him and went on. “Phoenix and I will offer him a ride, while you, Wolverine, Beast, and Bishop take the
Raven
and follow at a distance. Rogue will fly advance scout to see if she can pinpoint Service’s location.”

“Do we have a general idea where we are heading?” Ororo said. “Or must we depend completely on the Juggernaut?”

“At last report,” Jean said, “Robert Service’s jet was flying in circles over the wilderness area in central Idaho.”

“Circles?” Ororo asked.

Scott only shrugged. He had no idea why a man who had just touched a gem similar to Cain’s ruby, would suddenly jump on a plane, fly to Idaho, and circle over the mountains.