Altered Fates: Project Zulo free porn video

(Author's Note: This story provides a finale to all the Altered Fates tales I've posted here to date. It contains spoilers for, and resolves dangling threads from, most of those eleven stories. I wrote them out of sequence, but I always knew where each of them fitted in the overall scheme. Read in order, the larger story should all fall into place with what might have seemed stray characters and random bits of business all connecting up. Even if you read the individual stories as they appeared here, they should repay being reread in the correct order. Seriously. And if you've never read them, well, the revelations in this one won't have quite the same impact. Their chronological order is: 1) I Was a Stranger at My Own Wedding (1951) 2) A Quick Study (1973) 3) X-Files: The Scam (1993) 4) G.I. Blues (1997) 5) The X-File (1997) 6) Tempest (6 months ago) 7) The Bitter Bridegroom (5.5 months ago) 8) The X-File Reopened (6 weeks ago) 9) Triptych (5.5 weeks ago) 10) Return to Kennet Cove (5 weeks ago) 11) The Cult (3 weeks ago) 12) Project Zulo (now) Comments on older stories are always appreciated. So, anyway, here it is. The finale to what, for want of a better name, I'm calling 'the Bloodline Saga': ) ALTERED FATES: PROJECT ZULO By BobH (c) 2004 "The hour grows late, perhaps too late. Are you still confident the mortal can undo what must be undone, and in time?" "I have to be, for what other choice is there? You know the constraints on us. What was done by mortals can only be undone by them. I cannot intervene before then." "And if it isn't undone? What then?" "Then Fate unravels and the world as we know it ceases to be. All our plans, all our hopes for the age that is dawning then come to naught." "So the future of everything really is balanced on a knife-edge? It truly could topple either way? "Yes. That which I helped set in motion is now reaching a climax, the final pieces moving into place. The die is cast, the endgame upon us. Now, all we can do is watch and hope..." Prologue 1: Nevada, 11.32 am The road was ran long and straight along the southern edge of the reservation, from the mountains all the way to Reno. Here and there at intervals were roadside stalls set up to sell souvenirs, soft drinks and snacks to passing motorists. Some were little more than foldaway tables bearing a covering cloth and an array of locally crafted jewellery, erected early in the morning and taken down shortly before nightfall. Occasionally, they were of more substantial construction, the actual dwellings of those who ran them, and it was one of these that the van pulled up outside. "God, it's good to be able to get out and stretch my legs," said Jacob Horowitz aka Coyote Dingo, his gaze flicking over the tiny cinderblock hut with its rusting, corrugated steel roof. He could hear a small, oil-powered generator whirring away around the back of the structure, presumably powering the slide-top refrigerator in front of the hut, standing next to the inevitable table of native jewellery. "Hey, as long as we can get some ice-cold sodas, I'll be happy," said Nancy de Niro, getting out of the passenger side door. She was wearing a T-shirt, short pleated skirt, and sneakers; her long red hair gathered back in a pony tail and topped with a baseball cap, her eyes hidden behind her Armani sunglasses. Sliding back the side door, she unfastened the seatbelt of the small child travelling with them and lifted her out. The child, a young girl of five or six, stood and smoothed the creases out of her dress before gazing around her with interest. "Would you like a soda, Abby?" asked Nancy. "Yes, please," said the child, smiling up at Nancy and taking her hand. They walked over and joined Jake at the refrigerator. "Can I help you folks?" said a man, emerging from the hut. He was Native-American, in his early forties, and appeared to be in reasonably good shape. "We just stopped to pick up a bunch of sodas," said Jake, lifting a six-pack of cold Pepsis out of the refrigerator. "It's thirsty work driving up from Los Angeles." "I imagine so." said the man, taking the sodas and brown bagging them. "Where are your manners?" came another voice, one dry and raspy. The newcomer had also emerged from the hut. He too was Native American and looked ancient, his leathery skin dark and deeply lined, hair long and snowy-white. Stooped with age, he supported himself with a tall and gnarled wooden staff, what had clearly once been a colourful blanket draped over his shoulders. "Everyone calls me Old Charlie. Never did know why. This is my grandson, Will. He's just visiting. Can I interest you in some genuine old Injun jewellery?" he said, indicating the table next to the refrigerator. "Fresh in from Taiwan." "Grandfather!" said Will, looking appalled. "How can you pass that stuff off as genuine?" "It's jewellery, I'm selling it, and I'm a genuine old Injun," said Old Charlie, winking at the others, "so what else would it be but genuine old Injun jewellery. Makes the white-eyes feel good buying it from someone who looks as ancient and authentic as me, and their money makes me feel good. Good feeling all round." "'Native American' or 'American Indian'," said Will, "not 'Injun'. And do you have to use expressions like 'white eyes'?" "Whatever," shrugged Old Charlie. "'Whatever'?" said Will, turning to Jake, Nancy, and Abby, "Do you hear what spending all his time watching that tiny TV in his hut has done to him?" "Helps keep me in touch with the world," said Old Charlie. "Broadens my taste in music, art, and female mud-wrestling." "I'm a musician," said Jake, "I play with a band called Deathsperm." "He goes by the name Coyote Dingo," said Will, who had recognised Jake. "He's really famous." "Prefer Britney Spears," said Old Charlie. "Fine looking-woman, good hips. Will bear many strong sons." "Ooh, you're impossible when you get like this," said Will, in exasperation, "I don't...hello, what's this?" The others turned to see what had attracted his attention, leaping backwards as a humvee bearing military markings screeched to a halt next to their van, throwing up a cloud of dust. Three figures climbed out of the vehicle, two of them soldiers and the third, incongruously, a girl in her early teens. She was dressed in jeans, sneakers and a T- shirt, had long brown hair and a small star-shaped birthmark on her right cheek. She also appeared to be in charge. "That's her," she said, looking at the photograph she was holding then nodding at Nancy, Jake and Abby. "I'm Sergeant Wycek," said one of the soldiers, stepping forward. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to come with us. Corporal Perkins here will drive your van." He nodded in the direction of the other soldier, whose hand was resting on his holstered pistol. The implied threat was obvious. "What's this all about?" demanded Jake. "We're civilians. Why should we go anywhere with you?" "All I've been told is that it involves national security, sir," said Wycek. "My orders are to apprehend Ms De Niro and her companions." "You want me?" said Nancy, astonished. "Why on Earth would the authorities be interested in a model? Nothing I do has any connection to national security." "And why should we go anywhere with you at all?" said Jake. "I've been authorized to use force should you not choose to come along voluntarily." Jake looked at Nancy and Abby, then shrugged. "In that case I guess we don't have any choice in the matter." "No sir, you don't," said Wycek, climbing into the driver's seat of the humvee. The teenage girl took the passenger seat and the others the rear. Perkins got into their van and then both vehicles roared off down the highway. Old Charlie turned to his grandson. "There's something you don't see every day," he said. Prologue 2: Los Angeles, 11.35 am Leaning against the park gates, contentedly smoking a cigarette while watching her lover Kate McGowen supervising their daughter on the swings, slides, and see-saws in the children's play area, Julia Tamm could not help but smile. Her life with Kate and Maisie these past six months had been all she could have wished for and she was happier than she had ever imagined she would be. It was a surprisingly pleasant day in L.A., with temperatures in the mid-seventies, a light breeze, and lowish levels of smog. And with the rare and happy coincidence of both she and Kate having a day off at the same time, they had decided to spend it in the park with Maisie. Checking her watch, Julia realized they would have to make a move if they were going to make lunch before the midday crowds of office workers descended on all the local eateries. Taking a final drag on her cigarette, she crushed it out underfoot; shaking her head again at the ban on smoking in public parks that Angelenos fondly imagined made breathing the city's smog-ridden air so much safer. Kate noticed, they exchanged a nod, and her partner scooped up Maisie and brought her over. "Lunch?" said Kate, handing Maisie to her. "Lunch," agreed Julia, balancing her daughter on her left hip and taking Kate's hand. Hand-in-hand, they headed for the parking lot. "Can we have ice cream, Mommy, can we?" asked Maisie. "Of course we can, sweetie!" laughed Julia. Further along the street was a dark sedan with opaque, smoked-glass windows. Leaning against it was a girl in her early teens, her hair dyed black, her clothes black, her lipstick and eye shadow black, and with rings through her nose and exposed navel. There was a small, star- shaped birthmark on her right cheek. "Got a light?" she asked, holding up a cigarette as they passed by. "Aren't you a little young to be smoking?" said Julia. "Look, lady," sighed the girl, "I asked for a light, not a sermon." "Oh, why not," said Kate, fishing her own lighter out of her purse. As she held it up, and the teenager leaned in to take the light, so the rear door of the sedan opened. The man inside, a soldier by his uniform, grabbed Kate's arm and pulled her into the car. "Hey!" shouted Julia, her protest abruptly ending when she found herself staring down the barrel of a gun. "Get in!" said the teenage girl, holding the gun level. It was not a request. Julia did as she was told, holding her daughter tightly so as not to distress her. Once inside, the door slammed after her, locks clicking closed. The teenager got into the passenger seat and turned to the driver, another soldier. "Target acquired," she said. "Take us back to base." Julia noticed she had said 'target' rather than 'targets'. They had only been after one of them, but which one? And why would the military want to abduct any of them? The girl, who was clearly in charge, stared into the distance as the sedan pulled away from the curb, before smiling in satisfaction. "The other two teams have also secured their targets," she said. "Where are you taking us?" demanded Kate, as they turned on to I-5, heading north. "You'll soon find out," said the girl. "Now shut up and enjoy the ride." -1- With afternoon giving way to evening, Captain John Geddes shifted uncomfortably in his seat aboard the corporate Gulfstream III jet as they entered Nevadan airspace. He had been the military liaison assigned to Peyton International, one of America's largest and most important defence contractors for a year now and he was not at all sure this junket was a good idea. As well as the company's CEO, Eric Peyton Wayne, a sharp-looking man in his early fifties, also on board were Eric's elderly parents, Mark and Anne Peyton Wayne, his wife Heidi, her twin sister Gretchen and her husband Mike Hudson, and also John's own wife Laurie and their four young children. Their youngest was only a few months old, and he smiled at the sight of Laurie breast feeding him in her seat. The other children were talking with the elder Peyton Waynes, who seemed genuinely delighted by their company, as did Eric and Heidi who, despite trying, had never managed to have any children of their own. For some reason, they had never adopted. What concerned John was having so many members of the Peyton family in one airplane. If it crashed, the controlling shares in the company would pass to Mike and Gretchen's son, Tom Hudson. John had a feeling Uncle Sam would blanch at having one of his most important defence contractors in the hands of a liberal Hollywood actor if that came to pass. It had been Mike Hudson's idea for them to all fly out here from the company's corporate headquarters in Connecticut, to turn a pre- commissioning inspection of Peyton International's new aerospace R&D facility, just outside Reno, into a family get-together. Of course, when Hudson had suggested that Laurie and their kids should also come along for the ride it was inevitable she would think this a great idea and leap at the chance of visiting Nevada with him. What with the demands of his job, they did not get to take too many outings together as a family. Looking at Mike Hudson now, sizing him up, John wondered if he could have had some ulterior motive in suggesting this get together. He knew that Eric trusted his brother-in-law implicitly, even if he was a reporter and so not a breed John himself had a lot of time for. He had heard something about Hudson recently giving up his editorship of that newspaper in Des Moines and becoming a roving reporter for some in- house journal or other. John wondered just what that journal might be and made a mental note to himself to find out. He knew he could sometimes be overly suspicious of people, but when someone had that big an 'in' with the CEO of a company as important as Peyton International, it could be prudent to check them out. "Daddy, Daddy, look what I drew," said Emma, their eldest, scrambling onto his lap. She thrust a sheet of paper at him. "That's very good, sweetie," he said, ruffling the six year-old's hair but having no idea what her drawing was supposed to represent. "It's you and Mommy!" said Emma, proudly. "Attention, this is your pilot," came a voice from an overhead speaker. "We shall shortly be landing at our destination. Please return to your seats, secure any loose items, and fasten your seatbelts." John strapped Emma into the seat next to his, checked to see everyone else was fastening their own seatbelts, then secured his, keeping a firm hold on his attache case. The plane banked right, then the nose dipped forward. They were coming in to land. Emma held his hand tightly all the way down. "The landing strip looks good!" said Eric Peyton Wayne, nodding approvingly out the window as they taxied to a halt next to the plant's main building. "It should," said his father, unfastening his seatbelt, "it cost enough." "Are we there now, Daddy?" asked Emma, looking up at her father. "Yes," said John, smiling, "we're there now. And the day after tomorrow, when we're finished here, Mommy and Daddy will take you and your brothers and sister down to Disneyland." The stairs were lowered, and John Geddes was the first one down them. As he stepped on to the runway two military humvees pulled up beside the jet and four men got out. Two were regular soldiers, holstered pistols at their sides, the third was a man in his early forties wearing the uniform of an army Colonel, and the fourth - who also appeared to be around forty - was an elegantly dressed civilian carrying a gold-topped cane. He was quite a sight with his immaculately trimmed, silver grey hair and beard. His suit was tailored to perfection, the trouser creases sharp and straight; his shoes polished to an almost mirror-finish; the carnation in his lapel, full and fresh. He looked totally out of place next to the soldiers. John wondered who he could possibly be. As the others exited the plane behind him, John saluted the Colonel. "This is a surprise, sir," he said, "I wasn't informed we would be meeting other members of the military here." "Need to know, Captain," said the Colonel, returning his salute, "need to know. I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to turn over your sidearm." Puzzled, but trained to obey his superiors, John reached into his attache case and pulled out his service automatic. The Colonel took it from him and passed it back to one of the soldiers. Of course, training or not, John neither mentioned nor volunteered the second gun he carried in that case. "What's this all about," demanded Eric Peyton Wayne, "and what are you doing at this facility?" "I'll explain everything shortly," said the Colonel. "In the meantime, if you'll all get into these vehicles we'll drive you over to the accommodation block." Grumbling, they all did as he asked. Looking around, John saw the civilian accompanying the Colonel exchange a quick, furtive nod with Mike Hudson. What *was* going on here? Had Hudson set them up in some way and, if so, why? He and Mr Hudson were going to have a very serious talk just as soon as John could get him alone. "Are we prisoners?" whispered Laurie Geddes to her husband as they were driven to the accommodation block, her baby clutched tightly to her chest. "I wish I knew," he said, "but you can be damn sure I'm going to find out." There were armed soldiers standing guard at the entrance to the accommodation block, and those from the plane were subdued as they passed between them. Whatever the operation here was, it was clearly serious. "I want to see you all in the lecture room in a half hour," said the Colonel. "That's when I'll answer all of your questions." "Someone had better," said Eric Peyton Wayne when he had gone. "If there's not a very, *very* good reason for all this I'll see to it that heads roll." As well as the individual, hotel-quality rooms within, the accommodation block also contained a creche. Running it was an attractive young woman in her early thirties. She was wearing the uniform of an army Lieutenant. "Hello, Mr and Mrs Geddes," she said, smiling pleasantly when John and Laurie turned up with their children. "If you want to leave your children here while Colonel Kramer explains everything to you, I'll take good care of them. I'm Liz Sommers; I volunteered to look after the children. I've always been good with kids. As you can see, we already have two little girls here." In one of the playpens behind her, playing contentedly with some plastic building blocks, was a pretty, slightly Asian-looking toddler, two to three years old. Sitting in an armchair that almost dwarfed her small form was another child, around six years old, who was intently reading a picture book. "Maisie and Abby," said Lieutenant Sommers. "Their parents have already gone along to the lecture room." "Can you give us any clue as to what this is all about, Lieutenant?" asked Laurie. "'Fraid not, ma'am," replied Lieutenant Sommers. "Orders. That's all up to the Colonel." With their children taken care of, and their baggage stowed away in their room, they headed for the lecture room. They were the last ones to arrive, Mike and Gretchen Hudson being just ahead of them. The Colonel was standing at the door, and insisted on shaking their hands before allowing them into the hall. He kept his left hand in his pocket the whole time. "Dad!" shouted a figure as Mike Hudson entered, and John was surprised to see it was Mike's son, Tom Hudson, the movie star. "So they grabbed you, too?" said Mike, looking on as his wife and son hugged. "Yeah," said Tom. "I was driving back to Malibu about eleven thirty this morning when a military humvee pulled me over. They had this teenager with them, a redhead with a weird star-shaped birthmark on her cheek. They bundled me into it and brought me here. What the fuck is going on?" "Language, Tom," frowned Mike. "Your mother's here, remember." "Yeah, sorry, Mom," said Tom, sheepishly. "It's just so frustrating." "Did you just mention a star-shaped birthmark?" said a voice from the seats above and behind Tom's. "Oh, hello, Julia," said Mike, instantly recognizing Julia Tamm, "we do seem to keep bumping into each other lately, don't we? What was that about a birthmark?" "There was a girl with that birthmark there when they picked up Maisie, Kate and me," said Julia, "and that was around eleven-thirty, too, only her hair was dyed black." "Brown," said Nancy De Niro, who was sitting next to Julia. "The teenager with the star-shaped birthmark who was there when we were picked up at eleven-thirty had brown hair." "That's right," said Jake Horowitz. "I'd suggest twins, only there have to have been at least three of them." "Curiouser and curiouser. Where is Kate by the way, Julia?" asked Mike, looking around, "only she doesn't appear to be here." "That's what I want to know," said Julia, biting her lip. "She was taken away when we got here and I haven't seen her since. No one will tell me what's happened to her." Having listened to this exchange, John Geddes was about to start questioning Mike Hudson when a loud voice cut through all the chatter in the room. "If I could have your attention, please, ladies and gentlemen." It was the Colonel. He had taken his place behind the podium. "I'm Colonel Alexander Kramer, and this," he said, indicating the sharply-dressed civilian they had seen earlier and who was now standing near the door with two of the teenagers with the birthmarks, "is my associate, Lucius Duvall. Several of you will already have met Tina and Tina. I'm sure you all have a lot of questions, so I'll cut right to the chase." He pressed a button on the podium, causing an image to be back- projected on the screen behind him. There were gasps of surprise and sharp intakes of breath from his audience. "I see that even those among you who've never been changed by it recognize the Medallion of Zulo," he said. "Eric, Mark, and Anne Peyton Wayne; John and Laurie Geddes; Tom and Gretchen Hudson; Nancy de Niro and Julia Tamm. You've all known the medallion's touch. Heidi Peyton Wayne, Michael Hudson, and Jacob Horowitz - you haven't. You were a surprise, Ms Tamm, a big surprise. I knew about all the others beforehand, but I didn't know you'd been touched by the medallion until I shook hands with you just now." John Geddes stared at those around him in astonishment. Nor was his the only face registering surprise and shock. He was also intrigued to see Duvall was staring directly at Julia Tamm, a worried expression on his face. "From your reactions, this is clearly not a secret you have all shared with each other. Well, the secret's out. You can discuss it among yourselves later. The reason you're here now is national security. As loyal Americans, I'm sure you'll all do whatever is required of you to help your country in these difficult times. If you don't feel inclined to help...well, consider your legal position. For years, even decades, many of you have been claiming to be someone other than who you really are." "What exactly is it you want of us?" said Mark Peyton Wayne, bristling at the implied threat, his voice still firm and his frame erect despite being over seventy years old. "What I want of you," said the Colonel, fixing the old man with what struck John as a particularly intense gaze, an edge of venom in his voice, "what Uncle Sam *requires* of you, is that you submit yourselves to testing. We have the Medallion of Zulo here, in this facility, and we want to be sure there are no long term problems associated with its transformations before we proceed with Project Zulo." "'Project Zulo'?" said Eric Peyton Wayne. "What the hell is Project Zulo?" "According to legend," said the Colonel, "the medallion was created in Africa, centuries ago. Its original purpose was to turn every member of the tribe who owned it into a copy of their strongest warrior in times of danger. I have no idea as to the truth or otherwise of the legend, but that's what Project Zulo is. The military advantages of being able to make every raw recruit a copy of the strongest, fittest soldier in an army are obvious. However, as its history shows, the medallion is notoriously difficult to hold onto. Also, having only a single medallion is a problem if you need to mass produce such soldiers in a hurry in multiple locations. So what we intend doing here is reverse- engineering the medallion, finding out what makes it tick and producing our own versions." "With all due respect, sir," said John, "is that even possible?" "Our expert in mystical matters, Mr Duvall here, assures me it is, Captain, and for the past few months we've been gathering together the items needed to accomplish this." "When did the US military get involved with magic?" asked John. "The first time was back during the Indian wars," said the Colonel, "when we were wresting this country from the savages who infested it. I haven't been able to find out much about what happened back then, but in the fifties, during the height of the Cold War, we set up all manner of programs to look at anything that might give us any advantage over the Soviets. We conducted experiments in ESP, set up 'remote viewing' operations, and we looked into sorcery. Odd to think of military men drawing pentagrams, casting spells, shaking bones and like that. What they did remains classified, and the program was terminated decades ago, after they accidentally opened a hellgate, releasing demons into our world. The demons were eventually destroyed with great loss of life and, somehow, the gate was closed. A cover-up was initiated, and the program was buried. Anyway, when I learned of the medallion, I realized its military potential and wanted to set up a project to exploit it. I knew this would have to be done under the long-established secret protocols for dealing with the occult. I was turned down. No one wanted to touch it. Until, one year ago, a particularly enlightened General gave me the go ahead and got me a budget." "Who are these teenage girls," asked Nancy De Niro, indicating the Tinas, "identical triplets?" "Pretty much," replied the Colonel. "We've all heard rumours about what those Area 51 boys are supposed to be doing up there at Groom Lake, reverse engineering crashed UFOs and the like. I know nothing about that, but they do have the preserved bodies of some of the most powerful telepaths we've ever uncovered. The strongest of all had been a teenager named Tina Anholt. Using my contacts, I was able to obtain a sample of her clothing. Using the medallion, this enabled me to turn three of my agents into copies of her - Tina One, Tina Two, and Tina Three - complete with those abilities. They're able to instantly, wordlessly, and securely communicate with each other over great distances, can see through each others eyes, and so on. Yet another way in which the medallion can be used to enhance the security of this country. Two of them dyeing their hair another colour is so I can tell them apart." "What have you done with Kate McGowen?" demanded Julia. "Why isn't she here with the rest of us?" "Ms McGowen is assisting us elsewhere in this facility," said the Colonel, "but don't worry, Ms Tamm. You'll see your girlfriend again soon. Now, I have other matters to attend to. I'm sure you all have a lot to discuss. Testing will begin tomorrow morning at 0900 hours. Be sure you all get a good night's sleep." With that he left, Lucius Duvall and one of the Tinas following him, the other staying behind. -2- Eric Peyton Wayne was the first to break the silence. "I can't believe you and Mom weren't always you and Mom," he said, staring at his father. "It looks like we weren't the only ones with that particular secret," said Anne Peyton Wayne, gently laying a hand on her son's cheek. "But you're wrong about me. I'm who I've always been." "I switched bodies with your mother to prove to her the medallion worked," said Mark Peyton Wayne, "then we switched back. I used it again later to swap bodies with the original Mark Wayne." "So...who were you?" asked Eric, feeling as if the world was about to drop away from under his feet. "I was a woman named Judy Amis," replied Mark. "Your mother was my first love when we met as teenagers." "I don't believe it!" said Eric, astonished. "Judy Amis was my birth mother! I used to be her son, Neil Amis." The colour drained from his parents' faces. "What?" said Mark. "But if you haven't always been Eric, then what happened to him?" "I'm right here," said Gretchen Hudson, stepping forward. "Why...why did you never tell us?" said Anne. "We didn't know you'd ever encountered the medallion," said Eric, "so we didn't think you'd believe us if we told you. We thought you'd think we were mad." "When did you switch?" asked Mark, holding Gretchen's shoulders, staring into her face intently. "It was 1973," she replied. "You?" "I became Mark Wayne in 1951, the year I married your mother. God, so you switched thirty years ago. That means what...Tom is our grandson?" "From one way of looking at this, yes" said Mike Hudson. "The medallion messes up the way lineage usually works." "What happened to your... to Judy?" asked Anne, looking at Eric. "She vanished about eight months before Gretchen and I switched places," he replied. "I've never heard from her since. Some years later, I tried to get in touch with her lover, Loretta Stark, to find out what she knew, but she had become a recluse by that point and I doubt those around her even let her know I'd tried to contact her. Ten years ago, she also vanished without a trace." "Have you been happy as a woman?" asked Mark, still gripping Gretchen's shoulders. "Very," she replied. "Mike's been a great husband, and Tom a wonderful son. I can't imagine I could have been any happier. Have you been happy as a man?" "I've been...content," said Mark. "The 1950s were a different time," said Anne. "There was no way we could have been together as two women and still been a part of society in the way we were." "So what about you, Tom," said Mark. "Who did you used to be?" "I've always been me," said Tom, "except for a few hours on our wedding day when I swapped bodies with Gina." "That was *you* in the wedding dress?!" said Nancy De Niro. "Wow. I never would've guessed." "An accident," said Tom, sheepishly. "After inadvertently switching on our wedding day we had to go through with the ceremony as each other. It was way too late by that point to call things off. And it was only a few weeks ago, when he visited me on location, that Dad told me about Mom. That was an even bigger shock than changing myself, I can tell you." John Geddes had been listening to all this with both interest and amazement. "You know what's really weird about all this?" he said. "Well, weirder than the transformations, anyway. What's weird is that I should end up being assigned to you, someone who's also had an encounter with the medallion. I mean, with a quarter billion people in this country the odds against ending up working with others who had encountered it must be astronomical." "You'd be surprised," said Julia Tamm. She was leaning back in her seat, her feet up on the backs of the seats in front, toying with her lighter and an unlit cigarette. "I recently visited the town of Kennet Cove, home of the author Greg Danner, to cover the filming of some scenes from a film based on one of his books. I met a bunch of people there who'd encountered the medallion a few years earlier. Now I find out there were even more transformees present than I'd realised, since I didn't know about Tom Hudson. Something I thought was unlikely turns out to be even more unlikely than it appeared to be. I find that very intriguing." "Julia Tamm, right?" said John. "So what's the story of your encounter with the medallion?" "I'll keep that to myself for now, if you don't mind," said Julia. "I haven't told Kate yet, and I want her to hear it from me first. I kinda hoped I'd never have to tell her, but given our current situation that's not really an option any more, is it? So, you switched with your wife, right?" John nodded. "I know who Nancy used to be," said Julia, "but whether or not she wants to tell you is up to her." "You know?" said Nancy, in surprise. "I don't see how you could possibly know, Julia. So who do you think I used to be?" "Peter Cochran," she replied, "co-founder of the Tempest modelling agency." Now it was Nancy's turn to look stunned. "But how...?" she said. "Later," said Julia. "We have more important things to worry about now." "Like what?" asked John. He was intrigued by this Julia Tamm. She seemed to be extremely sharp. "Like what Colonel Kramer had in his pocket," said Julia, lowering her voice and glancing in the direction of the teenage girl still standing by the door and watching them with a bored expression on her face. "His...pocket?" said Heidi Peyton Wayne, looking puzzled. "He kept his left hand in his pocket the whole time he was shaking hands with us," said Julia, "and he said it was while shaking hands with me he discovered I was a transformee. Which suggests he has a way of telling if someone has been transformed by the medallion at any point, and this method requires physical contact on his part. My guess is some sort of mystical device, and that it was in his left pocket. Then there's the bigger question." "What bigger question?" asked Eric. "Why us?" said Julia. "Or, more specifically, why you? I seem to have been picked up as an afterthought - it was Kate he wanted, for some reason - but you were all deliberately targeted. Why? Were you the only transformees he knew about? And if so, then how did he find out about you? It's not as if any of you advertised your status, after all." "There was at least one other transformee he knew about, Julia," said Mike Hudson. "Outside your TV station, when Karl Stark was assassinated, I saw someone I remembered seeing a few months earlier in Baltimore. His name is David Reiner, but before using the medallion on himself he was Charles Boudreaux, a renegade FBI agent wanted for murder." "I remember," said Julia, "but you never explained what you were doing in Baltimore. And how do you know Kramer knows about this man? Is there something you'd like to share with us?" "Oh, I think there's plenty he should tell us," said John. "The reason several of us are here is because he thought it would be a good idea to turn an inspection of this facility into a family get together. I might think this was just an unfortunate coincidence if I hadn't seen the nod he exchanged with Duvall shortly after we landed. You *knew* this was going to happen didn't you?" All eyes were now on Mike Hudson. He held his hands up in protest and was about to speak when another voice rang out. "Yes, Mr Hudson is working for me," it said, "and he knew he was delivering you to Project Zulo." They turned to see the figure who had just re-entered the lecture room. It was Lucius Duvall. He had one hand on the Tina's shoulder, and there was a glassy look in her eyes. "I've taken the precaution of intercepting the mental connection between this young lady and her sisters," he said. "You've all seen countless TV shows in which the hero cuts into the feed from a security camera and loops the tape to hide what he's doing from those watching, yes? Well, what I'm doing is similar, with the advantage that since Tina here is human her mind is putting together a plausible but totally false version of what we're doing and saying here." "You can do that?" said John, surprised and impressed. "Yes, Mr Geddes," replied Duvall, "I can do that. Fortunately, I did so before you started questioning Michael Hudson."" "Care to tell us what's going on?" said Julia. "Alas, no," said Duvall, eyes narrowing as he gave her an appraising look, "not yet. Not until I know more about a certain unexpected development. But you were right. There is more happening here than there appears to be. Please believe me when I assure you that Mister Hudson is one of the good guys in this. As soon as I can level with you all, I will. The stakes are far greater than you could possibly imagine." "I can't speak for the others," said Julia, "but I know Mike Hudson and while he's kept things from me in the past, he's never given me a reason to think his motives are anything but pure. So I'm prepared to give him the benefit of the doubt. For now. But there is something I really, really need to know." "What's that?" asked Duvall. "It's Kate," said Julia, plaintively. "Where is she and what does Kramer want with her? I don't understand what part she could possibly play in all this." "I'm afraid I don't know, either," admitted Duvall. "Colonel Kramer has let me into some of his secrets but not, alas, that one. I have no idea what he intends for Ms McGowen. I have to go now. Please turn up promptly for tomorrow's testing sessions. When I can fill you in I will, I promise." With that, he released his grip on Tina's shoulder. She blinked twice; awareness returning to her eyes, then gazed at the room as if nothing had happened. Lucius Duvall slipped away without her ever knowing he had been there. When he had left, the others turned back to glare at Mike Hudson. For now, they would follow Julia's lead and accept Duvall's assurances, but it was clear they all wanted answers. As they drifted away, heading for their beds, John Geddes collared Julia Tamm. "A quick word?" he said. "Sure," said Julia, "what can I do for you?" "I need to know what you know about Mike Hudson," he said. "I always get antsy when I know people are keeping things from me, and he's keeping back a bundle." "He certainly is," said Julia, watching Mike depart, deep in conversation with his wife and son. "What do you mean?" "I'm a TV newsreader," said Julia, "but they let me do actual reporting on show business news, and they've given me my own weekly talk show. Three weeks ago, my guest was cult-leader Karl Stark, just released from prison and the man Mike blames for the disappearance of his brother, back in 1968. You can't have missed all the fuss that followed the broadcast. Anyway, before that broadcast Mike asked for ten minutes alone with Stark in order to quiz him about his brother. I got my bosses to agree, but what I never told them or him was that I hid a microphone in that room so I could eavesdrop on their conversation. It turns out that Stark was a transformee, too. He used the medallion to found his would-be religion, and held on to it through much of the sixties." "I read his autobiography, 'My Struggle', when I was going through a mystical phase," said John. "I suppose someone was bound to figure out the religion angle eventually. So, what was his real story?" "Stark started life as someone named Magda Shaw. She was given the medallion in November 1963, while working as a waitress in a diner in Fort Worth, and used it to switch bodies with Carl Stark, a former Mr Universe. This wasn't something Stark had ever told anyone, yet Mike knew he used to be Magda Shaw. How do you think he could know something like that?" "I have no idea," said John. "Neither do I," admitted Julia, "but I intend to find out before this is all over." INTERLUDE: New Orleans - 1998 "It's not often that my salon is graced by someone so famous," said Lucius Duvall, smiling at his new client. "Yeah, well, if you're all the rumour that led me here claims you are, then I'm sorry I didn't find you years ago," said the man. "Rumour?" said Duvall, smoothing the elaborately embroidered cloth cover on the table in front of him. "What rumour might that be?" "That you're no simple fortune teller," said his visitor, "that you have genuine mystic ability. I've spent years searching for you or someone like you, bought all the books by Loretta Stark and others, consulted every charlatan and would-be mystic, all to no avail." "Assuming I was such a person, what would you want of me?" said Duvall, giving a faintly amused smile. "If you represent the sort of group I'm told you do, then I'm here to offer my services. I have some inkling of what may lie ahead, and I want to help." Duvall sighed and glanced around his salon, taking in its fine Victorian furnishing and its Old World charm. He tried to formulate a polite reply. "I know what you're thinking," said the visitor, "that I'm some sort of wannabe, but could a wannabe do this?" He made a fist of his left hand, concentrated on it mightily for a few seconds, then opened the hand. A small, perfectly formed sphere of light about the size of a pool ball hovered there, an inch or so above his palm. "Interesting," said Duvall, raising his eyebrows in surprise, "very interesting, indeed." "I've shown you mine, now you show me yours." Duvall pursed his lips for a moment, gave a little nod, then did exactly as his visitor had. When he opened his hand there was a glowing sphere hovering there, identical to the other. "You know what these are, of course?" asked Duvall. "Sorcerer's spheres. They're a sort of measuring device. And lately they're getting bigger every time we produce them, aren't they?" "So you *do* know what's happening," said Duvall. "Yes, which is why I want to join you." "We could certainly use someone with your abilities," said Duvall. "Good," said the visitor, letting out a sigh of relief. "First, though, I think you ought to meet my teacher, the man who taught me how to wield magic. I think you'll find what he has to say very interesting." "A teacher, you say?" said Duvall. "So someone else helped bring out your abilities?" "Yes, just as someone did yours, I'm sure." "My step-father," admitted Duvall, "a saint among men compared to my birth-father, who's an evil bastard. So, this teacher of yours has... abilities...of his own?" "Oh yes. He's seriously powerful. Unfortunately, he once used that power in a moment of anger to set in motion something which could soon have catastrophic consequences." "Then you'd better take me to him now," said Duvall, grimly. He felt an unaccustomed sense of foreboding at his visitor's words and, though the day was hot, the room felt suddenly colder. -3- Much to his surprise, John Geddes managed a full eight hours sleep despite being in a strange bed, under conditions that almost amounted to incarceration. Part of this, he knew, was due to Laurie being there with him, being able to snuggle up to that familiar form he knew so well and loved so much. As he did whenever he woke before his wife, he propped himself up on one elbow and gazed at her, just drinking her in. He had noticed Julia Tamm casting surreptitious, admiring glances her way last night, and why not? Laurie was beautiful and always immaculately, turned out, her clothing, hair, and make-up always done to perfection. She was deliciously, delightfully feminine, far more feminine than he had been when that was his body, and he liked it that way. Leaning over, he kissed her on the forehead. It was a gentle kiss, but it woke her. "Hi," she said, smiling up at him. "What time is it?" "Just after seven," he said. "We need to get the kids up by eight if we want to make breakfast." "You mean we have almost a whole hour to ourselves," she grinned, grabbing his ass and pulling him towards her. "This is far too good an opportunity to waste." It was, and they did not waste it. Not that they got the full hour to themselves. First the baby started crying, demanding to be fed, then the other three kids rushed into the room and climbed into bed with them. The joys of a young family. It was something John Geddes would not have changed for anything in the world. Later, as they breakfasted in the commissary, John looked about him, thoughtfully. He noticed the soldier who served up their food was one of those who had been guarding them the previous evening, suggesting that Colonel Kramer might have fewer than a dozen men under his command here. A pretty small contingent to guard what the Colonel had tried to paint as a vital project. John was beginning to suspect that Project Zulo might not have full official sanction, that it might in fact be a rogue operation. There was a Tina in the commissary, sitting at a table near the door watching the room. Kramer had created three of them but there was no reason why he couldn't make five, or ten. Or a thousand. John shivered at the thought of a thousand Tinas, each able to see anything the others saw and to communicate instantly and undetectably. They could be a national security asset, or a nightmare tool of domestic political surveillance. Regarding his fellow 'detainees', John wondered at the long heart-to- heart conversations he was sure most had had after the revelations of the previous evening. He was amused knowing how those happy, heterosexual couples had started out. Mike and Gretchen Hudson had both been born male, as had Jake Horowitz and Nancy De Niro, whereas Mark and Anne Peyton Wayne had both been women, and he and Laurie had each started life as the other. Only Eric and Heidi Peyton Wayne were both still in their birth genders, but Eric was not the same guy he had been. They were a testament to the power of the medallion. All seemed very happy with their lot, but they represented a tiny sample. John suspected there were many people out there unhappy with the changes it had wrought in their lives. "Mind if I join you?" John looked up. It was Julia Tamm. "Of course not," said Laurie, "please do." "So how did you sleep?" asked John. "Not well," said Julia, taking a seat. "I missed having Kate next to me, and I couldn't stop worrying about her." She started eating or, at least, pushing her food about her plate, when someone shouted her name: "Julia!" It was Kate. Julia leapt to her feet and seconds later they were in each others arms and kissing, oblivious to the grins of the others eating in the commissary. "What happened to you?" said Julia, leading the willowy blonde beauty back to her table. "Where have you been?" "After we were separated I was taken straight to the medical centre," said Kate, "and given the most thorough medical examination I've ever had. It lasted hours, and they must have examined every inch of me, inside and out. Then they took me to an office where that Colonel asked me lots of personal questions. What was really creepy was he had a copy of my swimsuit calendar on his wall. So what the hell is going on here? Does anyone know?" "It's all to do with the Medallion of Zulo," said John. "'Medallion of Zulo'?" said Kate. "What's that?" John looked at Julia. Her shoulders slumped and she gave a deep sigh. He knew that this would be a make-or-break moment for their relationship. "It's a magical device that allows people to switch bodies," said Julia. "Magic?" said Kate, disbelievingly. "You're pulling my leg." "I'm afraid she isn't," said John. "The medallion is all too real. A lot of the people eating in this room started life as someone else, and your partner wasn't always Julia Tamm. The military want to use the medallion to produce physically perfect soldiers." "You...weren't always Julia?" said Kate, staring at her girlfriend. "Then who were you?" "Jamie Cochran," she replied. "Peter's niece." "Jamie?" said Kate, in confusion. "But she was only a kid." "If I was still her, I'd have just turned fifteen," said Julia. "But I thought you were two years older than me," said Kate, "and you were always the more mature of the two of us." "Physically, I am two years older than you, now," said Julia, looking her in the eye, "and I'll always be more mature." Despite herself, Kate laughed. "Yeah," she said, "I can't deny that." "So...are we OK?" said Julia, hopefully. "I don't know," said Kate, not meeting Julia's gaze. "This is a lot to take in. Does Peter know about this?" "I haven't told her yet," said Julia, "though I suppose I'll have to eventually." "'Her'?" said Kate. "Oh, that's right, you don't know," said Julia. "He switched bodies with Nancy De Niro just before I became Julia Tamm." "He's...Nancy?" said Kate, her jaw dropping. "Then that means that she and Jake...that Peter and Janice...wow!" "Nancy and Jake are here, too," said Julia, "but they haven't come in for breakfast yet." "This is all going to take time to absorb," said Kate, "and I'll need all the details." "And you'll get them," said Julia, "when we can get some time alone together." She was about to say something else when a soldier, Sergeant Wycek, placed a tray of food on the table in front of Kate. "Eat up, Ms McGowen," he said. "The Colonel wants to continue his interrogation in fifteen minutes." "You have no idea at all what Kramer wants with you?" said John, after Wycek had left. "No, none," said Kate, biting her lip. "I didn't even know this medallion existed until just now. None of this makes any sense." "Better to eat now rather than fret about it," said John. "I know Kramer's type. He'll have you out of here at the time you were told, whether you've eaten or not." "He's right, sweetie," said Julia, "you have to eat." There was concern on her face, and John guessed it was both for her partner's well-being and for whether or not her revelation would destroy their relationship. John felt enormous sympathy for her. He hoped everything would work out for them, but when Wycek returned for Kate, she rose without a word and left without looking back. "She'll come round, you'll see," said Laurie, laying a sympathetic hand on Julia's arm. "God, she'd better!" said Julia. "I don't think I could bear it if she didn't. It's a lot to take in when you've never seen the medallion in action or been changed by it yourself. I think those of us who have often forget that." "That's all too true, Ms Tamm," came a voice from behind her. It was Eric Peyton Wayne, carrying a tray of food. "May I join you?" "Pull up a chair. And please, call me Julia." "I hope you sorted things out with your parents last night?" said Laurie. "Yeah," said Eric. "I'm still their son and they're still my folks. We've been really close for thirty years, so that wasn't going to change. But they're reforging their relationship with Gretchen now they know who she used to be." "Any more thoughts about our situation?" asked John. "Well, I made some interesting discoveries last night," said Eric, biting into a croissant. "I was heavily involved in the planning of this facility and I'm intimately familiar with its layout. After everyone was asleep, I crept out and did some exploring. Kramer doesn't have a lot of people here, so the guards are spread pretty thinly and are relatively easy to avoid. I'm fairly certain I know where your partner is being held, Julia." He pulled a folded sheet of paper from a pocket and spread it out on the table. "This is a rough layout of the facility I sketched this morning, and this," he said, indicating a particular building, "is where she's being held, I'm certain of it." "Useful to know," said John, rubbing his chin. "If we need to mount a rescue in a hurry we know where to strike." "A rescue?" said Eric, eyeing him appraisingly. "Do I take it you're contemplating taking action against a superior officer, that you think this may not be an officially sanctioned operation?" "That's my suspicion, yes," said John, "but for now a suspicion is all it is. I'll only move against the Colonel if and when I'm certain he's gone rogue. I don't approve of our being held here, but if the authorities really are behind this I have to go along with it." "You said 'discoveries', plural," said Julia, looking up from studying the sketch of the plant layout. "What else is there?" "Something which may or may not be significant," said Eric. "As I was returning to the accommodation block, I spotted someone standing in a pool of shadow near the perimeter fence, talking quietly on a cell phone. It was Sergeant Wycek. He obviously didn't want to be seen and it was pure chance I happened upon him. I couldn't get close enough to hear what he was saying without being noticed, but I'm pretty sure it wasn't something he wanted anyone in this facility to know about." "Could've just been calling his girlfriend," mused Julia, "or he could be working with someone outside for some reason." "My thought exactly," said Eric. "If he is, that means we have at least three different agendas at work here. There's the Colonel, and what may or may not be an official project; Duvall and Mike Hudson; and now Wycek and whoever he's working for." "Do you trust Mike Hudson?" asked John. "Totally," said Eric. "As Duvall said, he's one of the good guys. And if he's working with Duvall, then Duvall must be on the side of the angels, too." "I hope you're right," said John, "for all our sakes." INTERLUDE: Kennet Cove, Maine - 1997 "So...you're inviting us to join this group of yours?" said Greg Danner, exchanging glances with his wife and with Mike Hudson. "I've told you what's at stake," said Lucius Duvall, "how there's a lot to do if we're to secure the future of our species. I believe you can all help in that task." "The tale you told us is certainly incredible," said Mike Hudson, "worthy of one of Greg's novels even, but it's a bit much to swallow all at once." "Really?" said Duvall. "More incredible and harder to swallow than the Medallion of Zulo? It was the reports last month of all those doppelgangers of Mrs Danner that were responsible for both you and I being in Kennet Cove at this time. We both realized the medallion was likely involved, you because of your personal history with it and me because the medallion is one of the mystic artefacts my group attempts to keep track of." "If the threat that's coming is as big as you say it is, shouldn't we get word out to the public and to the authorities rather than preparing for it in secret?" said Mike. "I note you're here not in your capacity as a reporter but as a personal friend of Mr Danner," said Duvall, "which suggests you believe some things are best kept under wraps." "That's different," protested Mike. "I don't believe it is," said Duvall. "The time is coming when the public will learn that magic really exists. That lesson will have a profound effect on our world, but the time is not yet upon us. Until it is, the preparations we need to make are best done away from prying eyes." "I think this is something we're going to have to discuss among ourselves and then sleep on," said Lucy Danner. "I've shown you such bona fides as I can," said Duvall. "I don't know what else I can do to convince you that what I'm telling you is true." "Oh, we're convinced," said Greg Danner, "and more than a little scared by what you've told us. We just need a little time for it to fully sink in and to decide what our course of action should be." "I'll show you to one of the guest rooms," said Lucy, "and we'll let you know our decision tomorrow." Following Lucy up the stairs in the grand entrance hall of the Danner's mansion, Duvall found himself surreptitiously studying her. Reading what the Medallion of Zulo was capable of was one thing, but knowing this beautiful young woman was until recently an overweight and over- sixty male really brought it home to him. "I hope this room will do," said Lucy, ushering him into one of the first floor bedrooms. "It will do just fine, thank you," said Duvall, taking in the Victorian mouldings and finely crafted wooden furniture that reminded him of his own home in his beloved New Orleans. He liked the whole house, and was pleased Greg Danner was planning to renovate those parts of it that were now derelict. "Well, good night then," said Lucy, closing the door behind her as she left. When she had gone, Lucius Duvall sat down on the bed and let out a long sigh. He was uncertain as yet whether or not his mission here had been successful. That Mike Hudson, a man familiar with the medallion, should be here when he arrived was definitely a good sign. He was potentially as big an asset to the cause as Duvall expected Greg Danner to be. Stripping down to his shorts, Duvall assumed a lotus position on the bed and willed himself into a meditative state, his usual routine before retiring. When he did so, he got a shock. There was another presence in the room! His eyes snapped open and there, floating in the air in front of him, was a man dressed in mid-19th century clothes. The man was translucent; Duvall could make out the shapes of objects behind him. "Are you a ghost?" he said, more intrigued than frightened. He had always wanted to meet a ghost. "You can see me!" said the man, in surprise. Though the words matched the movement of the man's lips, Duvall sensed that they were reaching his ears without crossing the intervening space, that someone watching the two of them would hear nothing at all. "No, I'm not a ghost," said the man, "though those who have sensed my presence down the years have assumed I must be. My name is Abraham Danner, and I built this house." "If you're not a ghost, then what are you?" asked Duvall. "Someone whose spirit was cast from his body and who managed to tie it to the fabric of this house," said Abraham Danner. "My body died, but my spirit never has. The house both sustains it and holds me here, preventing me from truly dying." "You say you managed to tie your spirit to the fabric of the house," mused Duvall. "That's quite a feat for someone who was a merchant." "Though none knew it, I was also a sorcerer," said Danner, "a very powerful one." "Clearly," said Duvall, impressed by his feat. "How did you get this way?" "I suffered a... bereavement," said Danner. "At first, I was totally consumed by my grief, but in time, as I started to have to once again deal with the world around me, I discovered that a member of my household staff had fled with several powerful artefacts I had acquired. I cast a spell to find them, and experienced a very strong and unexpected backlash, one that caught me totally off guard and threw me out of my body. To this day I don't know quite how, but my magic connected with that of another, unknown sorcerer to cause this. When magic meets magic the effects can be wild and unpredictable." "It's why I'm wary of handling most mystic artefacts without some form of protection," said Duvall. "Very wise of you," said Danner. "As I was ejected from my body, I sensed that other sorcerer being caught in a similar backlash at his end, though what effect it had on him I couldn't say. I tried re- entering my body, but the backlash had somehow rendered that impossible. And so my body died. I have been trapped in this house ever since, unable to communicate fully with anyone until you came. You have the mystic senses to totally perceive me, where to most I am little more than a feeling, a vague unease, a presence felt but never seen." "Greg Danner will be stunned when I tell him about you." "You must not tell him about me," said Abraham Danner. "Him knowing about me would ensure I remain trapped in this building. In a metaphysical sense, my family - my descendants - are part of the fabric of the building for the purposes of my incarceration. Even if I should get free, it would be best he never learned of it." "I understand," said Duvall. "The magics involved were unplanned and so unstable at best. One wrong move and you could be trapped forever with no possibility of release, or even drawn back here after any release. Do you know of a means of releasing you?" "Yes. One final thing I could tell during my brief contact with that other sorcerer was that one of the items stolen from me, the Medallion of Zulo, was involved in some way. If it helped lock me here it could also be the key that unlocks the trap and lets me escape. I had little hope of it ever finding its way back here and yet, miraculously, it did. Mere weeks ago, after a century and a half away, it was back within these very walls. Unfortunately, there was no one here I could communicate my presence to. A few weeks later and here you are, but the medallion has moved on. It's so frustrating, to come so close..." "I give you my word that, if you check out, I will do what it takes to release you if, no *when*, the medallion comes into my hands. Now, tell me more about yourself..." They talked long into the night, with the result that Duvall was tired and bleary-eyed when he went down to breakfast the next morning. "We've made a decision," said Mike Hudson, as he entered the room. "Yes," said Greg Danner. "If you want us, we're yours. We'll do whatever you ask of us." There were smiles and handshakes all round. "Now that that's agreed, there's something else I need to broach," said Duvall. "Last night, as is my habit before retiring to bed, I slipped into a meditative trance. When I did so, I sensed something in the derelict wing of this house." "Something..." said Greg. "Can you be more specific?" "Alas, no," said Duvall, "but I can lead you to where I believe whatever it is I sensed lays." "Okay," said Greg, not sounding entirely convinced. "I'll get the keys and a flashlight. You can lead the way." There was a smell of damp and decay in the derelict wing of the Danner house, the light from Greg's flashlight augmented by the occasional beam of sunlight finding its way in through the boards covering the windows. "Here," said Duvall, indicating an area of plaster in one of the rooms, "it's behind here." Still looking dubious, Greg Danner plunged the end of a crowbar into the plaster and tore out a large section. There, behind the plaster, was a wooden box, Duvall lifted the box out slowly, almost reverently. Back in the main house, when the box had been opened and its contents examined, it was Greg Danner who gave voice to his feelings. "This is incredible!" he said. "These items belonged to my ancestor, Abraham Danner, and according to these journals he was some sort of sorcerer." "Well, the paraphernalia in the box certainly looks like it could be for ritual use," said Mike Hudson. "Then there's this dress," said Lucy Danner, holding up the child's dress that had also been in the bag. "It was his daughter's favourite." In his disembodied form, Abraham Danner had watched his wife seal the box in the wall. It was he who had told Duvall its location. Duvall felt guilty lying to his new recruits, telling them he had sensed the box behind the wall when he had done nothing of the sort. Yet he knew that if the circumstances demanded it he would have done worse. Much worse. If it could create an advantage the conflict that was coming, they were all expendable. -4- The scheduled examinations of the transformees were held in the medical centre. They were called in groups of three, the first group consisting of John Geddes, Julia Tamm, and Anne Peyton Wayne. There was an armed guard outside the examination room but inside it was just them, Lucius Duvall, and a young black man barely out of his teens and dressed in sneakers and sweats. "This is Mitchell Jefferson," said Duvall. "There's no one with a better grasp of the cutting-edge discipline of technomantics, the area where magic fuses with technology." "Hi," said Mitchell, smiling at them. "Call me Mitch, everyone does." "This centre was intended mainly as a first aid station," said Anne, "the sort of thing you get in most industrial facilities, so why is there an MRI scanner in here?" The Magnetic Resonance Imaging scanner dominated the room, gleaming whitely. "It's not a standard unit," said Duvall. "It's been adapted to detect magical fields and alterations to a person's aura. Mitchell built it, of course." "That's pretty high-tech, isn't it?" said John. "I thought magic was more about reading entrails and throwing bones." "Bones and entrails have their place," said Duvall, "but they're only a tool, just like technology. So when the technology is available and enables you to do what you want with greater ease and accuracy, you'd be a fool not to use it. Now, I wa