by JC Hay
It was, she had to admit, all going too smoothly.
There were too many options, Na’im had to admit, and none of them were appealing. He turned on his most charming smile and fixed the woman with the full force of his personality. “There’s no call for threats. How shall we leave?” He fished another champagne flute from a passing tray and took a sip. “Angela, wasn't it?” The g was hard, a call out to the woman's German heritage.
Her mouth tightened a fraction, and he caught the momentary dilation of her pupils when he said her name. She hadn't expected to be remembered. Hadn't expected that she'd made any kind of memorable impact at all. It was leverage he could use, at least long enough to get free of the building and make an escape route for Elise.
“Now you're in a hurry to go? What are you hiding from me?”
Na’im tried not to smile. She thought of herself as a shark, but her attacks were so clumsy, so predictable, that getting her out of the room was as much a favor to her as anything. Angela might have money and power, but her understanding of its subtler applications was wanting indeed. “We can stay if you wish, I got the impression you wanted to go somewhere more private.” He slipped an arm around her waist, fingers trailing across the sensitive skin at the small of her back.
She leaned into him, distracted, “Upstairs, perhaps.”
That was a worse idea than leaving. He wasn't certain about the geography upstairs but the chances they wouldn't cross into Elise’s path, or worse, draw security after them, were higher than he was willing to risk. He turned her towards the open area near the stage. “You don't want a dance first?”
To his relief she agreed, even though she by all rights should have wanted out of the building as quickly as possible. After all, she had recognized him. The likelihood existed that someone else might as well. Any advantage she had could be lost in an instant. Especially if that other person was more interested in the reward Zaahir Amalgamated had on his head than in a petty personal vendetta against Jalila.
Though he had to admit, the latter option was unlikely. Jalila had a tendency to make things very personal. ‘A wounded animal makes mistakes’ was one of her favorite proverbs in business. He steered Angela out onto the dance poor, where a few other couples swayed awkwardly and one with obvious training took up most of the space. A quick spin set her off balance, and as he drew he close Na’im risked a glance at his chrono. Assuming everything went as planned upstairs, he'd only need to keep busy for another ten minutes. After that, Elise would be ready for a him to create a distraction.
He refused to countenance the idea of things not going as planned.
He hadn’t figured out a sufficient disturbance yet. But dancing he knew, and when he closed his eyes and blinded himself to the fact that the smell of Angela’s skin was all wrong, he could almost pretend the woman in his arms was Elise.
As long as Angela believed it, then he could make it up to Elise later.
Chapter Four
T
he interface was wrong. Elise stared mutely at the electronics in her hand, then to the connections that fed wiring into the back of the machine above her. In all her research, she hadn’t uncovered that Zurich used a proprietary interface for their hardware. Not that it was the sort of thing you advertised but there should have been some word in the underground. Someone who’d worked a job against them. Someone who’d been acquired by a rival and let the news slip. Something. Somewhere.
The whole job was a bust and it hadn't even started. Not the important part anyway. She looked again at the useless dongle in her hand. Yash still owed her a favor, though that had been little. Any help with this and it would tip the scales back the other direction, and Yashilla was not a person who let those debts go un-called.
They weren't likely to get another chance to get the data, however. Zurich would recognize the analogous swipe by their security chief. It wouldn't take long to lock down their systems after that. MAZ might not know what they were looking for but they'd seal it all away to be safe. Whatever sins she’d owe the hacker, Na’im was worth the price.
Before she could second guess herself, she set up a five-point relay and sent a call to Yashilla on the number she’d been given. She carefully made sure video was turned off—not just because she didn't want the distraction from her surroundings but because she's learned the hard way that ceding control of optics to Yash was a good way to see horrific images that would haunt even a hardened killer’s dreams.
She picked up on the first ring. “Now here's a name I'd not expected to see again.” Her voice had been modulated to sound as though she were talking through a mouthful of dirt. Elise shuddered at the thought of what video Yash had hooked to it and patted herself on the back once more for disconnecting the video feed.
“I've got a problem.”
“You're on the run with hot data locked away in a hotter body, with a murder rap and a very pissed off ex-employer coming after you.” The chuckle sounded like someone gargling broken glass. “Got a problem may be the understatement of the year.”
Of course Yash knew. Elise rolled her eyes knowing the gesture wouldn't get back to her contact. “Thanks for the commentary. I just need to know—am I too hot to help?”
“Didn't say that. What are we doing?”
“I'm inside MAZ. I need their files on Zaahir but they've got some kind of proprietary connector. My leech won't match up.”
“No shit? Let me see!” The enthusiasm was alien sounding when paired with the horror show voice mod.
Elise wasn't fooled. “Keep your video off.” After an exasperated sigh of agreement from Yash, she brought the camera on line and showed her the connection.
“Crazy,” the hacker said at last. “I've heard of such a thing but never thought I'd see it.”
“That's great Yash, but can you fix it?” She flipped her feed off before Yash could turn the call into a video nightmare.
“I can try. You got an external phone we can hook into it?”
At that moment the door to the lab opened and a voice called out “I know you're in here. Come out with your hands up and there won't be a problem.”
Elise smiled and answered Yashila. “I'm about to.”
Angela’s presence in his arms reminded him of Jalila Zaahir. Not that Na’im had ever been required to dance with other people while Zaahir had been alive. She was far too possessive to allow that. More that Angela’s stiff demeanor, the forced way she held herself and the way she studied both herself and the room for any perceived sign of weakness reminded her of the way Jalila had been. Neither woman had anything like the easy-going openness with which Elise did everything, or held a candle to Elise’s emotional availability.
He suspected Angela would take the observation as a compliment.
“What could be so important,” she whispered against his shoulder, voice quiet enough that he had to strain to filter it from the music that filled the room. “That’s what I keep asking. What would be worth the risk to coming out of hiding? I mean, you had to know there would be people her who remembered you.”
An easy truth to address. “Actually, you’re the only one who’s been that clever.” She smiled at that, as he’d expected her to. “Beyond that, I’m afraid I’m not allowed to discuss.”
Angela’s eyes narrowed until he could no longer read the maker’s name scribed along the edge of her iris. He could almost hear the data unit in her head whirring as she processed his deliberately vague statement. “Mother of God. Jalila’s not dead.”
Ice speared into his lower back. Panic clawed its way through him, screaming warnings to every system, and prepping his muscles to flee. It took the full effort of his will to keep the effect from showing beyond a single off-beat step. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
She smiled, a predator toying with its prey for its own amusement. “It’s the only thing that makes sense. You’re running a dodge with her, she faked her death so you could infiltrate Zurich. I admit, it’s a little clever for her, b
ut it’s not out-of-bounds for her bag of tricks. That leaves the real question, which is what would MAZ have that she’d want.”
Na’im relaxed slightly before a new fear gripped him. Angela wasn’t correct, but she’d gotten close enough to the mark to keep him on his toes. After all, Jalila had, to some extent, faked her death. And the ripples of that action had led to this moment.
A new fear seeped into his tattered nerves. What if he was still executing on a subroutine Jalila had implanted? Despite Angela’s dismissal of her planning skills, Jalila understood the long game well, and a long preparation like he’d envisioned was absolutely within her capability. If that was the case, if it was even a chance of being true, then Elise was walking into a trap.
He needed to get away and warn Elise. She’d discount his fears, but if he laid out the reasons underpinning his fear, she’d understand the possibility. Scrapping the mission would be a loss but losing Elise would be far worse.
Especially knowing that it would be all his fault.
Chapter Five
T
he security chief - Elise remembered his name was Gunnar Magnusson, or Larson, or something else equally Icelandic - filled the doorway. Elise caught a hazy reflection of him in the glass surface of a nearby monitor. With the room still dark, she reached up and tapped the spot at the corner of her eye that switched her vision from low-light to thermal. She’d lose reflections that way but being able to monitor the man through the aluminum wall of the desk was worth it.
A cold blue rod appeared in his hand and its tip flared white as an ominous crackle filled the quiet of the lab. She didn’t need to see the details to recognize a stunner when she heard one. The burnt, ozone smell that reached her nostrils a few heartbeats later only served as confirmation. That he’d brought out a weapon already meant he expected resistance, meant he didn’t expect to find a few overly-horny party-goers catching extra time on a lab table. In the corner of her vision, her pulse ticked up twenty percent, and the monitors in her blood advised her that autonomic responses had added endorphins to her system.
Elise smirked and wondered why she’d had that feature installed. It was literally the most obvious thing once you knew how your body behaved, and she knew her body very well.
She unclipped the pendant from her necklace and pressed the stud on its side three times. A red light blinked in the center of the glass, and she switched her vision over to light-suppression before sliding the pendant across the floor. A second later, strobing light exploded at the front of the lab. Hopefully, the security chief had still been running light amplification on his vision, in which case he’d be overloaded and virtually blind. Worst case, he’d hopefully be disoriented for the split second she’d need.
Elise vaulted up onto the desk across from her, then charged back towards the guard from desktop to desktop, rather than trying to go around the furniture. In the staccato slide show of the strobe pendant she saw him struggling with the side of his face, clearly trying to cycle through different visual modes in the midst of his disorientation. She leapt from the last desk in the line, then pushed off the window frame just behind the guard. Her elbow came down on his shoulder, her full weight behind it.
A smaller man would have crumpled with a broken collarbone. Gunnar grunted, but stayed up. Fortunately, the stunner dropped from his fingers. Unfortunately, one ham-sized hand grabbed Elise’s clothing before she could hit the ground and vault away. With a growl that most bears would envy he spun her into the bulletproof glass of the observation window. The impact flashed white in her vision as pain lanced through her. Something crunched, and Elise hoped it was the glass rather than her.
The security chief dropped her to the floor and hauled up one of massive boot to stomp down onto her. She scrabbled back, fingers closing over something hard and cylindrical. Without a second thought, Elise thrust up. The stunner sparked to life, sending 300,000 volts coursing into the guard. He crumpled to the ground, limbs twitching. She dug into one of his pouches and pulled out a pair of zip-ties, then she secured his ankles and wrists in a rough hog-tie.
Another quick check found a tablet phone tucked into his breast pocket. She fished it out and held his thumb to the front pad to unlock it. Another deep breath and she reactivated her link. “Yashila? I’ve got that phone you asked about.”
The variables were spiraling out of control. Na’im tried to control the panic that raced through him, knowing that lack of calm would cause the tremors and weakness of his implant rejection syndrome. Another parting gift from Jalila, and the product of the murderous alter-ego she’d implanted in him against his will. He guided Angela to the edge of the dance floor and separated from her with the excuse of grabbing more to drink.
She narrowed her eyes, but accepted the champagne flute from him nonetheless. “I want a stake in it.”
He chuckled, his response as easy as it was honest. “That’s not my call.” The surface of his drink rippled, translating the tremor in his fingers into a visual sign. He tried to ignore that their return coincided with his desire to leave the building, but the coincidence felt overwhelming.
“Then tell her. Either she lets me in, or I’m blowing the whistle.”
“You really think Zaahir is that stupid?” He took a drink to provide a moment to calm his brain and organize his response. “She’s been planning this for years. Three-quarters of the security is on her payroll, as is the entirety of the catering staff. You’ll have a matter of moments before you’re dragged out of here, and then you’ll disappear into one of Corporate Services’ dank little holes, where a bureaucratic mistake will keep you for several weeks. With apologies, of course.”
Her lips pressed into a thin line. “Of course.”
“Now, if you don’t mind, I still have a role to play in the evening’s festivities.” He turned to leave her at the edge of the dance floor and a rough grip latched around his arm just above the elbow.
“That was a mistake.” Angela presented him with another mirthless smile. “Because that means if I want to sabotage the operation, all I need to do is keep you here.”
For a moment, Na’im was tempted. Without the signal, Elise would assume that something had gone wrong and flee. That much they had arranged beforehand. She would wait at the train station until he arrived or had to flee for other reasons. The thought of losing her stabbed into him like a physical pain; while he had an option, he wouldn’t allow that to happen. Before rational thought could overrule him, he threw the entire flute of champagne into Angela’s face. She sputtered, hands flying up reflexively.
As soon as she had released his arm, Na’im ran.
Chapter Six
The steady drone of music from downstairs stopped suddenly. Not the careful wind down at the end of a song, but an abrupt end. An interruption.
“Shit.”
“What?” Yashila sounded frustrated, despite the relay and voice modulation. “Now what did you do?”
“Things are going sideways. I think that’s my cue to leave.” She tried not to think about the reasons Na’im might have triggered the distraction early. None of them were good. Only a small number of those weren’t catastrophic.
You're jumping to conclusions, Elise. You don't know that it's Na’im in trouble down there. Except that she did, in her gut. Despite Ty’s admonishment, she’d always trusted her instinct when the going got tough. It had only steered her wrong once.
“Yeah? Well I'm not ready for you to get out yet. We just got started. This isn't magic you know.” There was a tone in the modulated voice that seemed to expect Elise to admit that it was, in fact, sorcery.
“You're hooked up, right?” Once she’d grabbed the phone from the downed security chief, it had been only a moment’s work to have the hacker walk her through getting it wired into the system so she could connect to it. “Other than my keeping your connection while you bounce the signal around and lift the data, what else is there for me to do?”
“If that's not enough, I
can always find something else.”
“They're not going to ignore a missing security guard for long, so if you need me to do something other than run interference, think it up quick.” She chuckled at the exasperated sound on the other end of the line. “How much time do you need to get the information?”
“If I was just getting your information? Too long. Fortunately for you, there’s other stuff in Zurich’s archives that could fetch a pretty penny on the open market. It’s easier if I just take it all. Faster too.”
Elise let the non-answer slide and tried to remember that Na’im could take care of himself. Over the last six months, he'd gotten better at slipping into the fugue state required to access his combat wiring. If things got hot downstairs, he'd be fine. At least for a while.
It didn’t dampen the protective fire that burned in her blood however, or the irrational worry that he might not, in fact, be okay. If guns came out, all bets were off. Fists and clubs could be controlled, but bullets went wide, punched through, and had a nasty tendency to end up in the wrong people. That’s why no one who’d been in one used the words careful or controlled to describe a firefight.
She stared at the tangle of wires growing out of the phone that connected it into the network, and then glanced back at the door. The need to rush downstairs felt like a hook set in her rib cage. Ty had always described romantic complications as irrational and dangerous, but she’d never understood that before. She’d never have considered risking the mission, or her life for him. For Na’im, it wasn’t even a question.
Elise opened the connection again. “I’m locking the room down. In a few moments, there’s going to be a big enough distraction that no one will be available to check up here anyway.”
“No, wai—” was as much as Yash managed to get out before Elise killed the connection, grabbed up the stunner, and sprinted towards the stairs.
