Chapter 26
I cannot believe I am doing this. Del nodded, gun pointed up, and Henderson slid around the corner, covered. The sage-brushed chill of a desert night enfolded both men; they were just about to penetrate the second ring of buildings on the east side.
Sigma Zero-Fifteen was being infiltrated successfully. So far.
The team had fortunately been right behind him, following the same signs he had and monitoring him through the tracker Yosh had secreted in his kitbag. In fact, they were a little less than half an hour away when Del dialed in.
A long drive, not made any shorter by Del’s inability to think of anything but Rowan.
The mindwiped psion had been turned over to Eleanor, who would take him to Headquarters, get him started on rehab.
If there was anything salvageable in his broken, Zed-stained mind, they would try their damndest to save it.
Bet Rowan could, if she gets out of here. Christ. Please be safe, angel. Please still be alive.
Everything had gone smooth as silk, the transponder on the Sig van getting them into ane underground garage.
Yoshi accessing the Sig intranet from the console in the van, Brew staying behind to help support Yosh plus keep a weather eye on the parking lot.
The complex was several concrete cubes and hangars tucked into the side of a mountain, a collage of underground labs and facilities burrowed into rock, virtually impenetrable.
Del’s nape prickled. It felt like a trap.
Cath followed Henderson, Zeke lumbering silently in her wake. Boomer, carrying the plastic explosive, would peel away to visit the core—if they could infiltrate that deep.
Blowing the power and security grid might give them enough time to get the hell out of here. For a seat-of-the-pants plan to infiltrate the most secure Sig installation in the country, it wasn’t half bad.
If, that was, they could pull it off.
Adrenaline lay copper against his tongue. They might even get in and out of here unseen.
Yeah. And next pigs will fly.
“Stop, hold position,” Yoshi suddenly breathed through the commlink. Everyone froze. “There’s a sweep heading your way.”
Del heard them pass—footsteps and the snuffling of a tracker-psion.
Zeke exhaled a slow, soft breath. His imperviousness to psionic attack also generated a useful bit of psychic static; the footprint allowed them to move without detection.
Once Zeke went with the other half of the team to take out the grids, it was up to Del and Henderson not to trip any psychic alarms.
Or physical ones.
“Safe,” Yoshi said. “Boomer, Cath, Zeke, your turn coming up. Stay to your right at the next intersection, hug the left wall after the turn. Del, Henderson, straight ahead.”
They moved out in waves, the team functioning a well-oiled machine. Christ, if we pull this off I might just start believing in miracles instead of percentages.
Cath, Zeke, and Boomer vanished at the next intersection. Del’s gaze met Henderson’s. The old man nodded, mouth a tight, straight line. Disbelieving Del’s report hadn’t even occurred to him to disbelieve. If Agent Breaker had been a Sigma mole, they would have been trussed and Zed-wiped by now.
An odd feeling, realizing how much Henderson implicitly trusted him. Del never thought he’d be so grateful for an unspoken assumption.
I owe him big, and I’m not even nervous about the debt.
They made it to the building Yoshi had marked, a massive four-storey concrete pile, ugly as sin but secure enough, Del supposed, given the outer defenses. It took him forty-five seconds to get the maglock on the door open, then they were swallowed by the maw.
If Yoshi was right, Rowan was in here somewhere. Del just hoped she wasn’t on an IV of Zed. He was fairly sure the drug wouldn’t entirely work on her, but with something like that you could never be sure enough.
There were other procedures to break a psion, especially a female one. Rape, drugs, sleep deprivation, torture. Now there was an idea. Her capacity to heal would make her an ideal candidate for physical—
Stop thinking like that. Concentrate. Just be safe, Ro. Please, angel, just be safe.
“Stairs at your nine, Del. Zeke, tighten it up.”
Delgado eased around another corner. Clear.
Of course, all the mindwiped psions that weren’t on chatscan, codestringing, or intra-security patrols with handlers would be locked securely in cages, and the handlers catching some rest. Mission Control was on the other side of the complex; that was where any activity was likely to be.
Over here were the labs and training rooms, deserted at night save for the patrols and passive alarms Del and Henderson were eluding. If anyone in Control found their comm channel, things would get real ugly, real quick.
“Standby, Zeke. I’m initiating the code for the doors.
Del, you’re going to go down to the end of the hall, turn right, four doors on your left.
That’s the best pinpoint I have on her, according to the listing here.
” Yoshi’s voice crackled; he was just as calm as ever.
You couldn’t tell he was navigating two teams at once through an unfamiliar complex on a console that might trip him up at any moment, working with an enemy system and stringing code by the seat of his pants.
Del nodded, forgetting Yosh couldn’t see him except through security cameras.
Brew was probably doing the trip-loops, jacked into the cameras and running safe footage to keep any other onlookers blind.
Henderson covered another ghostly hallway, made sure it was deserted, and moved to the next cover position.
It was agonizingly slow. All Del wanted to do was charge in, guns blazing, and drag her out.
As if the thought had summoned it, there was a sudden clattering racket around the corner at the hallway’s far end. The pops and zings of gunfire echoed against linoleum and metal doors. Del’s heart leapt.
“Oh, shit.” Yoshi sighed. “Guys, Rowan’s making a break for it and just ran across some armed guards. Brew, take over with Zeke and Cath, on my mark, mark. Del, Henderson, get the fuck down, she’s heading your way.”
“Get down,” Del mouthed, but Henderson was already in a crouch, his comm glinting in the dimness. Del found himself crouching too.
No cover in the hall. They had to fall back.
“Ro’s making a break for it.” He felt compelled, as if speaking made it more real. That means she’s ambulatory, and thinking.
“Cheeky girl,” Henderson mouthed. “Shit.”
Del agreed wholeheartedly. They dropped back to the defensible intersection, Henderson behind a bank of stacked chairs, Del crouched and melding with shadows.
Running feet, more gunfire, and an agonized scream. The empty hall, smelling of industrial floor-wax and human pain, echoed eerily in the dark.
“Just hang tight, guys,” Yoshi murmured. “She’s not hit, not hit, not doing half bad either. She just took out two guards, nice shot. Here she comes. Get ready. She’s got four more after her.”
Shouts echoed. Another scream, high and girlish.
God, I hope that’s not her.
Then the cacophony tumbled nearer. “Guys? They’re setting the detonators now. Get ready to move like a motherfuck.” Yoshi’s tone dropped to a murmur, the only sign of strain.
“Lovely,” Del murmured.
“Always a pleasure,” Henderson murmured back. He raised his gun; Del’s own came up in a weirdly synchronized movement.
“Oh, wonderful.” Yoshi sounded disgusted, and Del’s pulse kicked up a notch. “The whole complex is starting to wake up. Can we move it along, please?”
And then, skidding around the corner, Rowan appeared. She dropped, taking advantage of cover, her pale hair glowing in the dim light. He heard her breathing, fast and light. She squeezed off two shots, reached into her pocket as she ejected the empty mag, and reloaded with blurring-fast fingers.
The connection blazed to life, his head suddenly thudding with pain, her fear singing between his veins. She hadn’t been slammed with Zed or shaved yet. How had she gotten loose?
All he cared about was that she was alive, and he almost rocketed to his feet and ran for her. Rowan! Dammit, move back here. We’ve come to get you out.
She glanced around wildly.
“Rowan!” He had to shout over the sound of running feet and the howling, which had taken on a weird animalistic quality, raising the fine hairs on his nape. She backed up, covering the intersection, her ribs flaring with deep, rough breaths.
Moving too slowly. They would be on her soon.
Her mind flooded his with pain and urgency.
One mag left. Pick your targets, headshots if you can.
Remember, most gunfights end with a lot of noise and nobody getting hurt.
Pick your shots. Take your time, her voice whispered in the middle of his brain.
He could feel her feet bruised from running without shoes, the exhaustion weighing her down.
She wasn’t going to last much longer before making a fatal mistake.
He slid along the side of the hall.
“What the fuck are you—” Henderson began. It was the first time Del had ever heard the old man sound surprised in the middle of a job.
Rowan didn’t turn, but she stiffened and began backing up more quickly, a fast light shuffle.
“Come on!” Justin shouted. “Trust me, Rowan. Let’s just get the fuck out of here!”
That did it. She whirled and ran for them, her hair a pale banner and sock feet drumming so hard he almost winced. Then they had no time, because the trackers piled around the corner.
Human, but scrabbling on hands and feet like monkeys, the bald psions drooled and gibbered. Thin as scarecrows, their bodies moved in ways human joints weren’t supposed to. They howled as they saw her, and streaked forward on thickly callused bare feet, palms slapping the floor.
Revulsion cramped Del’s stomach; training took over. He picked a target, squeezed the trigger. There were three of them, Henderson picked off another. The third was rapidly drawing nearer, Del shot.. and missed.