Part 1 (1/2)

Carnival of Mayhem.

Alex Siegel.

Chapter One.

Aaron looked across the kitchen table at Marina and smiled. Morning sunlight poured through the window and seemed to make her strawberry blond hair glow.

”Did you try the omelet yet?” she said.

He looked down at the eggs on his plate and his smile became brittle. ”Just about.”

He used his fork to cut off a small but respectable portion of the overcooked omelet. Rectangular lumps of blue cheese added unappetizing color and texture. Despite his unease, he put the portion in his mouth and chewed slowly as if he were enjoying it. The cheese smelled like an old gym sock.

”Well?” she said.

Marina was blessed with a long list of impressive talents, but cooking was not one of them. However, some relentless feminine instinct compelled her to prepare a meal for Aaron at least once a week. Today, unfortunately, was the day. Perhaps the experience made her feel like a proper wife, even though they weren't actually married and never would be.

”It's interesting,” he said.

She furrowed her brow. ”You hate it.”

”I can taste the good intentions and love.”

”I was just trying to be creative. A regular omelet is so... boring.”

”I know,” he said, ”but boring isn't always bad. Breakfast doesn't have to be an adventure.”

She took a bite of eggs, winced, and put her fork down. ”But the cheese looked so pretty in the store. I love the blue color.”

”Do you want me to make us bowls of cereal instead?”

”Yeah. And a big gla.s.s of juice to wash out my mouth. Yuck.”

His thick, gray cell phone rang. He jumped up and grabbed it from the kitchen counter. ”h.e.l.lo?”

”Come to headquarters right away,” Ethel said. ”I have an important a.s.signment for both of you.”

”We'll hurry, ma'am. Bye.” He closed his phone and turned to Marina. ”Ethel needs us at the office. It sounds like we'll be working today.”

They jogged through their cozy apartment to reach the dressing room. The walls were painted a cheerful, inoffensive yellow. The furniture was made of lightly varnished, plain wood. There was no art on the walls or knickknacks on the shelves. Aaron and Marina lived a life of total anonymity, even at home.

They had converted a spare bedroom into a giant dressing room. Marina owned far too many outfits to fit into an ordinary closet.

Aaron was building up a nice collection of clothes himself. Wearing just the right item on every occasion was an essential part of his job. He didn't know what challenges he would face today, so he chose a plain blue suit that was well worn and unremarkable. It would work for almost any social situation.

The only special feature of the apartment was a hidden door leading to a weapons locker. He pressed two particular spots on the wall simultaneously and the door popped open. He quickly pressed a third spot to disable the b.o.o.by trap. Fluorescent lights inside the locker came on. He examined the many weapons, which ranged from knives small enough to hide in the palm of a hand, to sniper rifles that could kill from a mile away. He took a snub nosed revolver that fit conveniently into a jacket pocket. A machine pistol went into a holster under the back of his jacket. With the addition of two hunting knives, one for each ankle, he had barely enough personal protection to go out into public.

He turned to Marina. She wore a black dress with a long skirt and puffy sleeves, giving her places to hide weapons of her own. She selected four stiletto knives for close-in killing. For more distant targets, she put a light pistol with a suppressor into a soft holster on her inner thigh. A special slit allowed her to reach the gun without lifting her skirt. A .45 caliber revolver went into a holster on her other thigh.

They headed towards the front door, but Aaron stopped when he saw the dirty dishes on the kitchen table.

”We can't leave that mess,” he said. ”We might not be back for days.”

Marina shook her head. ”We don't have time to do the dishes. Ethel is waiting.”

”But I don't want the apartment stinking of mold.”

She took a large, black garbage bag from under the sink. She put all the dirty dishes into the bag and handed it to him. ”Drop this in the dumpster on the way out.”

”That will work.” He swung the heavy bag over his shoulder.

Headquarters was just three blocks away, but it was a cold and windy three blocks. Winter had come very early to Chicago this year. They put on heavy coats and scarves before walking out.

Aaron's apartment was on the second floor of a much taller building, so they only needed to go down one flight of stairs to get out. This location had the advantage of turning every window into an emergency exit, while still keeping some privacy. There was also quick access to a bas.e.m.e.nt that connected to a steam tunnel under the street. He had stashed extra weapons in the tunnel, just in case.

When he stepped outside, the brisk air startled him.

”Brrr,” Marina said. ”I wasn't ready for summer to end.”

”Yeah. It's not fair. It shouldn't be this cold in October, even in Chicago. What happened to global warming?”

They started walking south, towards downtown.

”Glade?” a voice called out. ”Aaron Glade? Is that really you?”

Aaron turned cautiously. His real name was a well guarded secret these days, and only members of the Gray Spear Society were permitted to know it.

It took a moment for him to recognize the face of the man calling Aaron's name. He was Pete Sanborn, a veteran Chicago police officer. Aaron had known him well back in the days when Aaron had also served in the force. Pete wore a police uniform with a blue ski jacket over his Kevlar vest. A badge was pinned to the jacket.

”Yeah,” Aaron said. ”It's me.”

He glanced at Marina. Her face showed no expression at all, but her hands were held in front of her body in attack position. She had already taken off her gloves to expose her sharply pointed black fingernails.

Pete approached them. ”s.h.i.+t, man. Where have you been?”

”Nowhere special,” Aaron said. ”Why?”

”Your parents reported you missing. They even hired a high power private eye to find you. Everybody thinks you're dead.”

The news about his parents pained Aaron. When he had joined the Spears, his ident.i.ty had been erased and he had severed all prior relations.h.i.+ps in his life. In a sense Aaron Glade really was dead. At least there was no official record that he still lived. He had never wanted his parents to grieve, but he led a dangerous life these days. It was much safer for them to think him dead.

”Everybody is wrong.”

Pete glanced at Marina. ”Obviously.”

”But I appreciate the concern, really,” Aaron said. ”The truth is I'm working for the government now, and if I could tell you anymore, I would.”