The Jewels of Cyttorak (9 page)

“Certainly,” Gary Service said, the energy and hope returning clearly to his voice. “The Avengers stopped dozens of threats in the past. Perhaps they can stop my brother, too.”

“Excellent,” the Professor said, and got the exact address for the Service estate.

“Thank you, Dr. Xavier.”

“No,” the Professor said. “I think I need to be thanking you for calling me. And let’s hope we can help your brother before he becomes like Cain.”

“I hope so, too,” Service said.

The Professor hung up the phone and turned to stare into the low fire. Gary Service had answered a few questions, but had raised a great many more. And the possibility of two Juggernaut-like creatures roaming this planet made the Professor shudder, even in the warm room.

As the sun set, the tourists and party life took over the warm, humid streets of the French Quarter like a wall of soldiers suddenly ordered to charge the enemy. The conflicting sounds of a dozen jazz and blues bands fought for attention up and down Bourbon Street from open cafes and smoke-filled bars. Tourists pushed and laughed and walked, all fighting the battle to have a good time in a city known for good times.

The heat of the day still smothered the streets of the Quarter and the smells of human sweat mixed with smoke and open-air cooking. The restaurants all over the Quarter were filled to capacity with customers and the wonderful aroma of Cajun cooking drifted in and out of the shadows like a phantom, grabbing hungry' people in a seductive, addictive embrace.

Remy LeBeau paid no attention to the crowds or the wonderful smells filling the tight sidewalks and spilling out into the narrow streets. He stood silently, tucked back in the shadow of a deep doorway, watching the street where the night before his “ghost” friend had appeared.

A ghost with a laugh like a barking dog.

Down the block tourists laughed and walked through Jackson Park, their very numbers protecting them from the dangers that would lurk there later in the night. The private club called the Bijou let people in and out with amazing regularity. Some Remy recognized, most he

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didn’t. They all seemed happy with their evening.

And no one saw him, as he wanted it to be.

Remy didn’t even want his “ghost” to see him.

Remy knew there had been no ghost. Sure, the guy had disappeared right under his fingers, but that trick could be pulled a dozen ways. In his time with the X-Men he had seen a lot stranger things than that.

No, the guy who did his disappearing trick had a reason to do it beyond trying to scare a tourist or two. And Remy figured it was worth a few hours of his time to figure out that reason if he could.

Later, after the city quieted down, he’d pay a visit to Mr. Toole’s headquarters. But for the party hours of the evening, he was just going to stand in the shadows and watch and wait for a ghost.

X-Men?

Professor Xavier’s clear call formed in Jean Grey’s mind like a voice beamed directly into the center of her mind.

At the moment, she, Scott, and Hank were drifting about a thousand feet above the Juggernaut, sitting comfortably in the
Blackbird,
as the behemoth pounded through the night toward the west. Rogue was about twenty miles ahead of Cain, making sure his path wouldn’t take him into a heavily inhabited area.

So far, Juggernaut hadn’t actually harmed anyone, and the Professor had told them not to engage him in battle—which was just as well, as even at their best, the Juggernaut had always been a difficult opponent to defeat.

Yes, Professor,
Scott said telepathically, speaking for all three of them.

/
need the three of you to leave Rogue to watch over the Juggernaut. I’m sending out Storm, Wolverine, and Bishop to help her. I need you three to make a . . . house call.

The location of an estate flashed clearly in Jean’s mind, along with the name Gary Service. She was surprised to see it was about twenty miles from where Cain had turned around so suddenly earlier in the day.

That’s correct.
The Professor’s thoughts formed in her head as if he were sitting next to her talking.
I think it was Cain’s destination. A man by the name of Gary Sendee will meet you when you land.

What’s this about?

I would rather he told you,
the Professor responded.
1 want your reactions to it. Tell him I did not relay his story and he must tell you about his brother.

Understood.

The Professor relayed the cover story he had devised to protect his own connection to the X-Men, then added,
Report to me as soon as you are finished.

Then the feeling of emptiness in her head indicated the Professor was gone.

Scott said, “All right then, let’s get to work.”

The weather in Boise, Idaho was one of those almost-imaginary, perfect summer evenings. A slight breeze cooled the air to room temperature, and the stars filled the sky overhead, breaking through even the city lights. The faint smell of warm sage from the nearby desert mixed with the rich aroma of fireshly mowed lawns. Hundreds of back-door barbecues sizzled around the small city, sending white puffs of smoke swirling upward into the clear night sky.

The door of Robert Service’s private jet let in the wonderful smells and the clean, fresh, mountain air. The jet sat off to one side of the Gowen Field Airport runway. Private jets were common at Gowen Field, due to the number of large corporations headquartered in Boise. So tonight, one more jet attracted no attention at all.

Robert Service had remained inside as the plane was fueled. He figured there was no point in getting the locals talking about his huge size. And besides, getting in and

out of the door of the plane was no easy task.

After the plane was fueled, checked, and ready to go, he sent the pilot and copilot on separate missions into the small city.

The pilot was to get them all dinner. For the first time since Robert had touched the gem, he was slightly hungry. He wasn’t sure what being hungry, or not being hungry for that matter, meant in his new form, but he figured there was no point in fighting it.

The copilot was on a much more important mission. He was to find detailed maps of the entire area north of their location, including, if he could, up into Canada. And the more detailed the map the better.

Before leaving New York, Robert had wondered how he was going to pinpoint the exact location of the part of the emerald he was looking for. He could sense that the stone was west, but west was a very big place when it came to such a small stone.

But then when he awoke when the plane was over Reno and realized he could feel the stone to the north, his solution was suddenly clear.

They would simply fly an ever tightening circle, using the feeling in his head for the direction of the gem, to close in on the location. First they would fly north from Boise, heading toward Spokane, going until it felt as if the gem was south. He’d draw a line on the map at that point, then have the plane turn west until it felt as if the gem was again behind him again.

Another line, then back south until the gem felt north. And so on, always tightening in on the location. It might take them some time, but it would work. He knew that without a doubt.

One hour later, map on his lap as his huge bulk filled the couch in the private plane, Robert Service’s jet lifted off into the perfect Idaho summer night and turned north.

One hundred and sixty miles later, Robert knew the gem was now behind them.

He drew his first line on his map and laughed.

Rogue stood, hands on hips, facing the newly arriving X-Men. Around her the rolling hills of Pennsylvania were dotted with the lights of farms and homes. Under her feet, the freshly plowed earth of the open field filled the air with the thick smell of dirt. To the south of her the sky was bright with the lights of Scranton. Otherwise the night was so dark that over her head the stars formed a blanket of white, as if the sky had been dusted with powered sugar. A beautiful evening and one that she had been enjoying so far, despite the menace of the Juggernaut.

As Storm, Wolverine, and Bishop approached, her thoughts turned to Remy on his “personal business” down in New Orleans. She wished he had let her go with him—or, better still, that he hadn’t gone at all. But he had insisted on going alone. Remy was such a loner, especially when it came to anything to do with his hometown, that it annoyed her at times. But still, if they got this problem with ol’ Juggy settled, she just might head down south to see if he needed a hand. It would be easier than worrying about him so much.

Rogue forced her mind off of Remy and back on the approaching X-Men. Ororo Munroe—called Storm because she had the ability to harness the power of nature to do as she bid—was walking slightly ahead of the other two across the open field. Her bright white hair seemed to shine with a light all its own under the stars. Rogue was struck by how much Ororo looked at home on such a beautiful summer evening. It felt to Rogue that Storm, if she truly wanted, might even be able to move the stars around in the sky.

To Storm’s right was Bishop, the X-Man from the future. He walked with a military stride, never looking anywhere but straight ahead. To Storm’s left, walking more like an animal of the night than a human, was Logan, otherwise known as Wolverine. Logan’s muscular body was covered with coarse, dark hair. He was the X-Men’s fiercest fighter and loved to mix it up with the Juggernaut. He had unbreakable bones and claws—made out of adamantium—and super-fast healing. He also took no guff from anyone.

Storm nodded to Rogue and then Hank as the five formed a loose circle in open field.

“Status?” Storm asked.

“Scott, Jean an’ Hank just took off about five minutes ago in the
Blackbird.
Juggy’s about five miles from this position and heading back for Ohio on the same path he used to get here.”

“Good,” Storm said. “The Professor wants us to continue to keep an eye on him, and make sure he doesn’t actually harm anyone. Otherwise, until we discover what’s happening, we leave him alone. Just watch him.”

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“Y’mean
baby-sit
,” Logan said, the disgust at their assignment clear in his voice.

“It is not our place to question orders,” Bishop said. Logan glared at the tall, straight-backed X-Men in his blue and yellow suit. “Bub, I question what I want. And right now I say we just stop the big guy right where he is.”

Bishop said nothing, only returned the stare.

“We do as the Professor asked,” Storm said. “Our mission is to safeguard lives in Juggernaut’s path. Far more important, don’t you think, than baby-sitting?” Logan only snorted.

“We make no move to stop the Juggernaut until we have more information,” Storm said, glancing at each, then again looking at Logan directly. ‘ ‘Those are the Professor’s instructions and we follow them.”

“Will do,” Rogue said. She had always been impressed how well Storm handled the group. It was no wonder that the Professor had made her team leader when Cyclops left the team for a time, and kept her on as coleader after he returned.

“Oh, boy,” Rogue said, smiling. She offered her right arm to Logan. “A night under the stars with two men. What more can a woman want?”

“Kid,” Logan said, moving over beside her, “if you don’t know, I sure ain’t tellin’ ya.”

She laughed, and a moment later she lifted him off the ground, turned, and headed west, passing over the Juggernaut a moment later.

On her arm she could feel Logan tighten up. It was clear he so much wanted to just get down and fight him.

If the feeling in her stomach was right, Logan was going to have more than enough fight on his hands before this was all over.

As Scott, Jean, and Hank climbed down out of the
Blackbird
near the edge of the private runway on the Service estate, a figure emerged from the shadows and moved toward them. Scott glanced over at Jean. “That’s him. You getting anything in particular from him?” His voice was low enough that the approaching figure couldn’t hear.

Jean shrugged. ‘ ‘I can feel a level of nervousness, but no threat.”

Scott nodded and studied the approaching man. He seemed to be in his early thirties, with brown hair and a sloped-shoulder walk. He looked to be about five-nine, and most likely hadn’t worked out a day in his life. Scott figured he would look more at home with large, thick glasses and a pocket protector full of pens. But he wore an expensive sports coat and high-priced tennis shoes.

As he neared, he smiled. “I’m Gary Service.”

Scott noted his voice sounded nervous as Jean had said.

Hank took the lead. “I’m the Beast, but my friends call me Hank. These are two of my associates, Cyclops and Phoenix.”

Gary Service reached out and shook all three of their hands. “Nice meeting you.”

His handshake, Scott noticed, was adequate, but not very firm, the man’s gaze darted back and forth among them.

‘ ‘What did Dr. Xavier tell you?’ ’ Service asked.

“Nothing,” Hank said, “except that we were to ask you about your brother.”