by Jack Parker
He was rocked from his thoughts by a low rumble that shook the walls of the hotel, even down here in the basement level. Dawn raised an eyebrow at him.
"You're handiwork I presume?" she asked.
"Sorry about you're little CIA friend you were trying to recruit. I will miss my other Devotchka too. She was much like you."
Dawn simply shrugged.
"I hated that self-righteous bitch anyway. Now come on. We have a plane to catch."
* * *
"Get down, Grace!" Steve shouted.
Instinctively, Grace obeyed. Maybe it was the sound of his voice. Maybe she was just too scared to think straight. Wasn't Steve their "contact on the show"? She hit the floor with a squeal as Steve's gun barked three times. There was a shout of pain from behind her and another loud pop as Hugo returned fire, followed by the sound of shattering glass. Grace squeezed her eyes shut and covered her ears as she crawled under her desk—praying to somehow wake up and find this was all just a nightmare. She dared open her eyes, and found the masked brute Hugo lying face down in front of her a pool of blood spreading outward from where he had been shot in the chest. She looked away and curled into a ball as an exchange of gunfire rang out above her.
"Stay there, Grace!" She heard Steve shout. "You'll be safe!"
BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!
Another volley from Steve, somewhere close. He must have been using the desk for cover too. She pressed her trembling hands to her ears, but the sounds were deafening. People were screaming. Someone was yelling for everyone to get out. Grace wondered if anyone else was wounded or worse. There was a new sound in the return fire from below. Automatic fire. A softer sound, but the whine and thump of the bullets splintering wood was somehow even more terrifying than Steve's loud weapon. Grace could even hear the sound of dozens of shell casings clinking against the concrete floor below. After a moment the screams and panicked commands stopped.
Oh God, Grace prayed inside her mind. Please tell me that means everyone else got out. Please tell me. . . Someone was talking. No, they were shouting. The voice was female. Was it the insane woman in the pit below? Grace remembered her hands were clamped tight over her ears and slowly removed them to listen.
"Give it up, Mariah!" Steve was calling out in reply now, and from below her. How had he managed to get down the stairs through that automatic fire? She remembered the sound of shattering glass. Had he jumped from the second floor? She dared creep out from under the desk to peer over the top of it. "You're hostages all managed to escape. You were sloppy. Should have brought out the big guns earlier instead of that costume prop. Now you have no leverage left."
"Ha! What are you and the three or four bullets you got left going to do? I'll just kill you and your little whore up there and do it all myself!"
Grace could see Mariah, ducking down behind solid unified table line that made up the first row of computer stations. A girdle with pouches lay discarded on the floor nearby, as well as her disguised gun. She now held at the ready small versions of the Uzi submachine gun in each hand. She had torn her white dress along the seam, allowing for easy access to more clips of ammunition. The woman was armed to the teeth, and she crept quietly to her right, staying below Steve's line of vision in an attempt to flank him.
"You're running out of time, Mariah." Steve said, his warning tone almost friendly. He had indeed leapt through the broken window pane to the floor below. A row of grey metal lockers had been set up along the wall to her left for people to keep their work materials and professional gear in. Steve was now taking cover in a standing position behind the last locker, his gun aimed at the ready should Mariah's head pop up.
"They're going to leave you behind if you're not careful. They were already on their way out last I saw. Tell me. What are you so all so afraid will be shown on this footage?"
"Enough talk!" Mariah snapped.
She leapt up, releasing a burst from each gun as she ran to her right. Steve reacted by ducking and rolling from his cover toward the last row of computer stations, where he came up on one knee. Computer screens shattered and shards of glass swirled around the room as Mariah's guns continued to spew havoc.
Steve's return shot went wide, piercing the central plasma screen with a neat hole and sending a shower of sparks down on Mariah as she ducked back into cover. Steve was breathing hard, his back pressed against a section of metal drawers in between the computer tables. He looked up and noticed Grace watching him from above. He waved her away furiously mouthing the words "go" and "get out of here". Then he called to Mariah.
"Careful not to shoot all the computers, my dear," he mocked. "Otherwise how will you access what you want?"
"I said shut it!" Mariah shouted as she began a new assault, this time vaulting on top of the first row of computer tables while firing another long burst from each gun simultaneously. She continued firing as she sprang to the next row, and Grace gasped as she realized that Mariah intended to keep Steve pinned until she could get an angle on him from above.
Steve turned to his right and shot a fire extinguisher on the wall. The cylinder ruptured in a spray of white gas and foam right across Mariah's path while she was in mid leap. She screeched in surprise in rage at the distraction. The next few bursts from her guns were unaimed and erratic, and wrecked even more havoc upon the room. Steve was up, firing two more shots through the spray at Mariah, but his view of her was blocked as well, and Grace saw that she had managed to roll off the table back to her right. She had hit the ground hard dropping, one of her guns.
Steve tried to fire again, but his gun clicked, useless and drained of ammunition.
Mariah gave a wicked laugh, and as she stalked forward out of the haze Grace saw that she had in fact been hit in the shoulder. She clutched tightly to her wound, pressing something to it with one hand as she trained her weapon at Steve with the wounded arm. He tossed his gun down and raised his arms in surrender as she rounded the last row of computers and aimed at Steve at point blank range.
No! Steve! Grace thought frantically. She had to do something. But what could she do? She could perhaps make a noise, be a distraction. Maybe Steve could use the moment to get away or overpower her. She could throw something or . . .
The thug called Hugo had dropped his gun when Steve shot him. It lay within her reach, if she were to just crawl forward a few feet towards the window, through broken glass and shell casings. Mariah was taunting Steve. Trembling, Grace went for the gun.
"Now," Mariah was saying with a cackle. "You almost had me. Pity your bosses at the CIA couldn't spring for another clip. Are you always so lightly armed?"
CIA thought Grace as her fingers closed around the gun. It was so light it surprised her, but it looked a lot like Steve's—sleek, black, with an easy grip handle that housed the ammunition clip. What the hell kind of shit am I knee-deep in now? She stood slowly and pointed the weapon at Mariah, who had her back turned to her.
"We're doing a lot more with less these days," said Steve with a grin. "We're not expected to shoot up whole rooms to hit our targets. Oh wait. Did you hit your target?"
"I won't miss now," Mariah growled.
"Hold it right there!" Grace shouted.
Two heads snapped up to regard her.
"Grace, I told you to get out!" Steve blurted in exasperation.
Mariah simply giggled, looking at Grace from over her shoulder, her weapon still trained unsteadily on Steve. "Well, well, well! What have we here?"
"I'm warning you," Grace said, trying to sound confident. "Drop your weapon."
Mariah laughed and, stepping away from Steve, slowly turned to face grace while keeping the weapon trained on Steve.
"Or what, little whore girl?" She said with a sneer. "You gonna shoot me? Please. You can't even hold the thing steady. Come give me the files I asked for and maybe I let your boyfriend live."
"Shoot her Grace!" Steve barked. "She'll kill us both."
This earned Steve a swift kick to the side of his head, kno
cking him over. Grace cringed but held her weapon steady. She aimed at the ground at Mariah's feet and squeezed the trigger. A loud pop and jerk of the weapon startled her as the bullet ricocheted harmlessly away. Mariah froze. Grace had her attention now.
"That was a warning shot," Grace called down. Her mouth felt dry and her palms were so sweaty she doubted if she could hold the weapon much longer. Could she really do this? Could she really kill? Grace begged the woman to just put down her gun in her own mind. Out loud she said, "Next time I won't miss. Don't fuck around with me, bitch. Now drop it."
"Fine," Mariah said. "Let's see if you have the guts."
The blood stained Leia whirled, bringing her gun up.
Grace squeezed the trigger without thinking. She saw the first bullet its target, and a spray of blood erupted from Mariah's chest. Grace felt a terrible rage take her at the site of the blood, at the sound of the woman crying out in pain. She remembered the terror of the young woman, of Robert still lying lifeless on the face first in his own blood on the other side of the room. She fired three more times, each pull of the trigger fiercer than the last.
Mariah staggered backwards, her gun firing uselessly into the air. Her enraged cry of pain cut off with a gurgle as a bullet went through her neck. Grace saw another slice into the woman's belly, and a final, life ending shot pierce her between the eyes. Mariah slumped awkwardly to the floor and lay still.
"I told you not to fuck with me," Grace said as she let the gun fall from her fingers.
She fell to her knees and covered her face with her hands as the tears began to flow. She could feel glass slowly cutting into her shins, but she didn't care. Hurting reminded her she was still alive. That she had lived through this nightmare. In a few moments Steve was at her side, helping her up.
"You did good, Grace." He said gently. "Come on, I'll take you someplace safe."
Grace nodded absentmindedly and let him lead her, but a low rumble and shake of the building startled them both. Steve had a worried look on his face.
"What was that?" Grace asked him worriedly. "Was that a bomb? It felt like an earthquake but that was a fucking bomb wasn't it?"
He sighed and nodded. "Probably meant for Victoria."
"Who?"
"Never mind that for now. I'll start at the beginning. There're some things you need to know about your show."
Chapter Twenty-One
"A little more!" Victoria cried. "We're almost there!"
They were swinging back and forth over the web of lasers. Both of them kept their feet tucked, less they inadvertently trip a laser and detonate the bomb. Victoria had managed to free all of her duct tape bonds, and keeping herself tied to the ceiling managed to swing her legs over to Charlie and pull herself a foot or so closer to the younger woman—close enough to grapple each other with their legs and hold hands once Victoria had freed them.
"Are you sure about this?" Charlie asked with a whine. "My chord is about to—"
"Just be ready," Victoria assured. "On the count of three I'll cut them both. Trust me. But we need to really kick hard."
Backward they swung, and forward.
"One!"
Back again they swung, and Victoria could almost reach the ceiling with her feet. Indeed, Chalie's chord was about to break. It had been lacerated in several places, apparently on purpose. If they had tried this without holding onto each other and having Victoria's chord for extra support, Charlie would have fallen into the laser net for certain. It was good that the girl had a keen attention to detail.
"Two!"
Victoria made a cut in her own chord. She felt herself drop a few inches as the rubber and wiring began to tear apart. It had to be on the next swing. This was going to be tricky.
"Three! Now kick!"
Both women reached up with their legs and kicked as hard as their reach would allow from the ceiling. Victoria slashed through a weak point in Charlie's chord as they reached the bottom of the arc, sending the woman flying. A half heartbeat later Victoria severed her own Chord, and spiraled herself through the air.
"Ooof!" Charlie grunted as Victoria landed mostly on top of her. They had cleared the main web below them, but they were far from safe yet. Now they would have to cross a maze of randomly moving lasers, barely visible in the steam of the room, and somehow make it to the elevator. Charlie began to laugh.
"If I wasn't so scared out of my mind, this would be hilarious," grumbled the blond.
"Just stay here and don't move." Victoria replied. She was too focused to laugh. It was a game of inches now. "Maybe I can just shut these things down."
Victoria slowly stood. The static web that Mako programed to stay directly below them while they hung from the ceiling had created this very small three yard by one rectangle safe zone just outside the web, but moving from this position was going to be tricky. Contrary to popular legend, spies did not in fact undergo laser obstacle course training. A security system like this was utterly bollocks. She surveyed the room, looking for a power node or control which might turn the game show gimmick off.
There was nothing. Nothing stood out from the pipes on the walls, a steam generator still billowing white mist, rows of large computer mainframes, and the all too distant elevator doors. Nothing except the bomb, which was fastened below a computer terminal that looked more like a cheap ATM machine than anything high tech. The gameshow mission required reaching some kind of terminal to download Carlo's shipping manifests. There was a good chance that reaching the terminal would shut down the lasers for teammates. Also, Mako had to have reprogramed the laser pattern somehow. Victoria decided it was worth a try.
She turned to her right, carefully stepping over the prone Charlie, and watched the laser lines as they shifted and even twisted in the steamy corridor between two rows of mainframes, trying to discern a path through the gauntlet. There was a pattern to the lasers after all. The pattern was very quick, and hard to follow, but after watching for a few more moments, she had it. She heard Charlie clear her throat.
"Um, Nova, are you sure you know what you're doing? Maybe we can just wait for help to come now."
"There's no time for that. I can't afford to let Mako and the people he works for get away. Plus, there's no guarantee he doesn't still intend to just blow that thing after a certain amount of time. Don't worry. I've got this. And stop with the Nova rubbish. This isn't a game anymore. It's Victoria."
"Claire," the woman lying at her heels said.
"Well Claire," Victoria said with a long calming exhale. "Here goes."
She dove forward over a cross of laser light, and let her body form into a ball as she rolled under another laser line dropping down on her like a guillotine. She completed the roll prone on her back, but pushed herself into a bridge arch just in time as a laser that had flickered off turned back on. She grunted slightly, using her abdominal, glute and thigh muscles to pull her from the yoga-like bridge position to standing. Just as quickly Victoria dropped into a squat and twisted her body to avoid a laser cutting down at her on a diagonal plane, and then hop scotched two more lasers sweeping in at her feet. She leapt again, this time into a hand-spring to make it over another set of lasers moving from the ceiling to the floor, and keep her momentum going to launch herself through a vertical set of four lasers that opened and closed like a gate. One handspring led into another as she glided over and then through a similar horizontal and vertical pattern of light. Victoria twisted her body and log rolled through a final set of lasers just as they bounced upward from the floor toward the ceiling. With a sigh of relief, Victoria found herself crouching low in front of the computer terminal and the bomb. She turned back Claire and gave the younger woman wearing a happily amazed expression a thumbs up.
What the hell? Victoria thought as she looked at the console. Something's wrong.
The terminal should have been active with a lock screen and a password to put in. There would have been some kind of process to figuring out this second password using the stolen mu
sic sheets. Victoria had been about to dig through her pocket for the sheets when she realized the screen was already set up to play a video that was currently paused. The screen was a touch screen, so all she would have to do in order to activate what looked like a windows media file would be to tap the screen. Victoria hesitated. Touching a terminal so obviously tampered with might be related to setting off the bomb.
"What's wrong?" Claire called from back in the middle of the room. "Can't you turn them off?"
Victoria didn't answer her. She examined the backpack. There were wires looped through the fabric, and something blocky inside for sure, but there wasn't anything linking to the terminal itself. The bag was simply duct taped into place. It was possible the entire pack was just a phony ruse. Victoria glanced over her shoulder.
"Just a second," she called back. "be ready for anything."
Victoria tapped the video screen. Mako's homely visage filled the screen, the faded reddish brown birthmark on the right side of his face looking as angry as she felt. A cool rage seethed like dry ice somewhere in the pit of her stomach as he began to speak.
"Zdrahstuiteh, Nova," the recorded Mako said. "Or should I say, Victoria Kingsly? If you are watching this it means you've made it so far without crossing lasers. Good for you. I expected no less of someone who worked with Dean Randolph. I liked him by the way. Pity he had to get in way of South American operations with Carlo."
Victoria slammed the side of her first against the console, cracking it and drawing blood from the side of her hand. "Bastard! I'll kill you!"
"I'm sure you like kill me now after I say this," Mako continued. "But first you have to play my little game. Hopefully my little Devotchka is well too? If she crossed a beam you can't really play the game. Either way, only one of you will leave here alive."
