Page 63 of The Timeless Vigilante

“Well, so these guys below must have brought weapons, afraid the ghost of that girl was coming back for her belongings. Can you blame them?” he asked slyly.

“That’s not why they have weapons,” Gen sneered. “They are up to something and I’m going to figure it out.” She watched, taking in every move of every man below and the cargo of medieval artifacts they were moving.

Gen stiffened when she caught sight of a man below who she recognized. “That’s the Director of Security.”

Emperor nodded. “Hamilton Dixon, the one you suspected of lying.”

“He definitely was,” Gen said. “So what did you pick up in his head or about the events going on in the Los Angeles County Museum of Art?”

“I can’t say entirely since some of it is flashes of the future,” Emperor answered. “But I can tell you that this Director of Security, Hamilton Dixon, is a new hire. He was recently put into place by the new Commissioner for Los Angeles and he has been making a lot of changes to security protocol at LACMA.”

Gen cut her eyes to the purple dragon. “Why? And why is that what you’re willing to share?”

He sighed. “I can read minds and see the future. If I told you everything I hear and see, then it would be like reading the end of a book without having read the previous chapters. You would know how things end but not how things got there. That would be very confusing for you and probably mess everything up. Also, most of what I read in people’s minds is just noise and telling you everything would be a waste of your time.”

“So why is it relevant that the Director of Security, this Hamilton Dixon, is new, then?” Gen questioned, watching as the man in question gave orders to the various men on the ground below.

“Because I get the impression that he works for the new Commissioner and not the City of Los Angeles,” Emperor answered.

Gen’s eyes widened as she rotated to look directly at Emperor. “You believe that the new Commissioner is corrupt…”

“I think so,” Emperor stated. “Based on what I’ve read from Hamilton Dixon’s thoughts.”

“Which means that whoever murdered the old Commissioner for Los Angeles was behind all this,” Gen said, narrowing her eyes on the scene below. “But why? What’s going on in the City of Los Angeles behind the scenes? If this place is the stronghold for keeping crime at bay, then what’s really happening?”

“That’s what we have to figure out,” Emperor said, his glowing gold eyes full of wisdom. “But I think the leads start here. I sense something about to happen in the museum that needs our attention.”

Gen leaned forward, watching as the armed men loaded a crate of medieval artifacts into the back of a van. “If they are moving the exhibit down to the eastern side, then why do they need transportation?”

“And why is the van driving away?” Emperor questioned.

Gen nearly tumbled over the side of the building, leaning over the edge to keep an eye on one of the vans as it drove off the property, speeding away. “What the hell? Why are they going that way?”

“Because they are stealing the artifacts,” Emperor stated, stationed beside her. “I’d felt in their minds that they were thieves, but I needed you to get on the ground before and find more information. Now this all confirms what I suspected. They aren’t moving the medieval artifacts as the Director of the Los Angeles County Museum of Art believes. This is a heist.”

CHAPTER FIFTY

THE ARTIFACT AVENGER

Los Angeles County Museum of Art, Wilshire Boulevard, Los Angeles, California, United States

In the darkened embrace of a back alley, Gen descended like a shadow upon the thieves stealing her history. The dragonrider’s form was a blur against the stark contrast of the moonlit theft. She landed from the second story of an adjacent building soundlessly, in a low crouched position.

However, the closest man in black spotted her, pulling a pistol, like the coward that he was, instead of fighting with his hands. Gen sprang up at once, throwing a roundhouse kick across the man’s arm as he extended it with the gun. The clang of the metal when the weapon fell to the concrete alerted the others in the area to the disturbance—all eyes shooting straight to Gen.

The man she had just assaulted jerked his gaze to the fallen weapon in the distance, and then to the men down the long alleyway. Then deciding that he wasn’t going to win this fight against this woman dressed in black, he turned and fled for the closest van, diving into the back where the doors were wide open. At once he pulled them closed, screaming to someone in the front.

Apparently, not wanting a fight either, many of the other men scattered like rats into the vans. The engines of the vehicles revved right before they peeled out, shooting exhaust onto the scene. Gen turned her attention to the other men who were backing for the museum, having been left behind by their “friends.”

Facing the strange medieval warrior who appeared to have come to take back her heirlooms, they retreated. Each of the cowards darted through a large roll-up door where they’d been unloading the artifacts from the Los Angeles County Museum of Art. Gen sighed, wondering if she really seemed that intimidating. Then she caught sight of something glowing over her shoulder and turned to find that Emperor had soundlessly landed at her back, a menacing gleam in his eyes.

“I had this,” she muttered over her shoulder to the dragon who had definitely been what scared the men away instead of fighting.

“And I had your back,” Emperor stated in a deep voice. “Hamilton Dixon ran into the museum. He’s the key to finding out who is behind this and what’s really going on. Go after him.”

“Fine, keep an eye on things out here and scorch any other thieves who try and escape,” she ordered, taking off into the back of the museum.

In a relentless pursuit after the thieves, Gen’s footsteps were a silent promise of retribution. She navigated the labyrinth of exhibits, listening for the men and the direction they’d gone. Cautiously, she approached a corner ahead, aware that someone could jump out and attack her. However, these men appeared bent on fleeing, rather than fighting.

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