X-men: World of Gray

Chapter 24

Chapter 24…

It was mid-afternoon by the time Hank, Sean and Alex made it to their destination. In the driver's seat of the rented Imperial, Alex was already pretty steamed; he had spent the last hour cursing at other cars like that would clear them from the road. Sitting beside him, Sean stuck his head out the window, taking in as much wind as bumper-to-bumper traffic would permit. It didn't help that he was wearing his blue and yellow uniform. So was Alex and Hank.

Hank sat in the back, noticing with much dismay all the other drivers gawking at him like they'd just spotted big foot…which wasn't too much of a stretch, he had to admit. This was the first time he'd been outside since Cuba, and he had to end up in the most infamous city in the country.

Los Angeles. It didn't look as glamorous in person.

"Alex," Hank said as he examined the road atlas, "could you take the next exit, please?"

"Might as well," the other man replied and did as instructed.

They drove by the Century Plaza Hotel, passed the Beverly Hills High School, and up towards West Hollywood. Between the lavish hotels and finely designed homes, there was a lot more industry than Hank would have anticipated.

That's when he noticed it.

"There," Hank said and pointed.

Alex slowed down and reached his hand out the window. Pointing it straight, he signaled to the other drivers behind him that he was turning left and then swung the Imperial that direction.

In front of them was the name Hank had been hoping to see since finishing up their leads in San Francisco and driving to L.A.

The Castlebrook Suppliers Warehouse.

They made custom electronics, and as it happened, included some interesting circuit resisters that matched exactly what Cerebro required. Someone had placed an order the same time as the tuning coils in San Francisco…and then, strangely another one a few days ago.

The order was ready for pick up that day.

Parking the car, Alex motioned his head towards the warehouse at the end of the lot. "You sure about this?" he said. "I mean, if Erik already has Cerebro up and running, why would he put in an order for more parts?"

Hank shook his head. "I don't know. Maybe the first batch was faulty. It's irrelevant now. The order is for the same equipment and for the same quantity. It's him. It has to be."

"What about the boats?" Sean asked. "I mean, if Moira's right—"

"If this doesn't work out, then let's start our hunt for ocean real estate," Hank said. "In the meantime, we should wait until the buyer comes to pick up their order. With any luck, he'll have a big red helmet on his head."

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Long Beach, California. Moira MacTaggert had already driven down the coast; she'd visited Santa Barbara, Ventura, and Oxnard, and still no leads had presented themselves. The way she was heading, she'd end up in Mexico soon.

That was frustrating enough. What was worse was the nagging feeling in her gut. Even if she managed to find Erik and his gang of mutants, what next? It was like coming into a fight where the opponent was armed with machine guns and she, a butter knife.

Wandering down one of the many marinas in Long Beach, Moira stopped at a small, wooden structure that better resembled a cabin instead of an office. On the door, only four words were painted—Docking Manager/Boating Supplies.

A bell jingled as Moira stepped inside. "Hello?" she called.

Around her, fishing gear cluttered the place. A vat of live bait sat close to the cash register, the dull brown glob that filled it smelling like something was rotting inside. On the walls hung dead fish, gutted, dried up and mounted on plaques like something that should leave her impressed rather than disgusted.

Trying to ignore the entourage of stench around her, Moira reached the cash register. "Hello?" she called again.

"I'm coming—these legs aren't as fast as they used to be," a raspy voice called from a backroom behind the register. With a sniffle, a heavy-set, copper-skinned man appeared from a door, a cigar clasped between his teeth. His eyes met Moira's and underneath his graying beard, he offered a smile. "Well, hello, little lady. What brings you out here by your lonesome?"

Moira gave a polite smile back. "Actually, I was wondering if you could help me out. I have a problem and I'm getting a little desperate here."

"For a cute thing like yourself, it'd be my pleasure, darling. What can I do you for?"

"I'm looking for a boat. A yacht, actually."

"Hell, I'd like one of them myself."

"This one belongs to an ex-boyfriend of mine. The rat cheated on me and then kidnapped my precious Charlie when I broke up with him."

The man yanked the cigar from his mouth. "What a bastard."

"Yes," Moira sighed, "that he is. He really, really is." Dramatically, she frowned and then peered down at the floor.

Playing the helpless girly type made Moira's stomach churn. Nonetheless, it wasn't entirely untrue; she did need help. She was desperate. And it wasn't her fault the dock manager assumed Charlie was a pet instead of a human being.

The stocky man reacted just as she hoped. His grin gone, he leaned forward, his eyes flooded with compassion. "What's his name?" he said. "We've had some yachts coming through this marina. We'll track him down."

"That would be wonderful." Moira lifted her head. "Unfortunately, the yacht is under an alias, and I don't know what it…" She sniffled. "I just want my Charlie back!"

"Oh, sweetie—I'm sure we can figure it out. Do you know the model or year of the yacht?"

"No, but he loves taking it into deep water. Sometimes for weeks at a time. So…it'd be a yacht that might have docked here a while ago, but never docked here again. Or anywhere else along the California coast." She gave the man a wary smile.

The magnitude of Moira's request seemed to dawn on him. She wasn't just asking him to go through his records—she was asking to match up any yachts that had passed through Long Beach but hadn't made land anywhere else in months. It would take hours—if not the entire day.

"Oh, honey," the man made a face like he just stubbed his toes, "that's a lot to go through."

Moira waited, hoping he would give in. When he didn't move, she realized it was time for further incentive. Moira grabbed her purse from her shoulders. She pulled out her wallet and began rifling through the green bills in the folds. She'd already cleared out her bank account before she left, and had already spent half of her money on the flight and car rentals. She might as well go for broke.

But as the man saw her flipping through bills, he raised a hand. "Now—now, we don't need any of that." He shrugged his shoulders as if in defeat. "You sure it's a yacht?"

Gingerly, Moira dropped her wallet back into her purse. "Yes, sir."

"And you're sure it's still out to sea?"

"Pretty sure, yes."

With that, the man snapped his fingers like an idea had sprung on him. "I'll make some calls. See about the other docking ports in town. If it's just yachts we're looking for, then we should be able to get an idea where this bastard's been."

The man yanked his phone from behind the register and started to make a call. Watching him, a smile curved again on Moira's face. Maybe there was some humanity in humanity after all.

End of Chapter