The Shadow Protocol

by Andy McDermott

  The driver made the turn. Adam half pulled the door handle until he felt the latch release, then held it in place. As the other cab slowed to follow, it was briefly blocked from sight by the barriers on the corner—

  He pulled the lever and dived out of the car.

  Even with his arms crossed tightly across his chest and his head bowed to shield it as much as possible, Adam still hit the pavement hard. Pain flared in his left shoulder. He rolled, tumbling diagonally across the sidewalk and hitting the wooden barrier with a bang.

  He flattened himself along the foot of the fence, burying his face in his arms. Fa’s cab pulled away, and he heard the second taxi take the corner. He had to hope that the bodyguards’ attention was on the vehicle ahead and not the shadows at the roadside …

  It drove past. Adam lifted his head. His pursuers’ cab was following the first. No brake lights, no sudden turns. They hadn’t seen him.

  Wincing at the ache in his shoulder, he stood. “Holly Jo, I’m out. Where’s the van?”

  “Almost there,” she replied. “We’ll pick you up at the corner.”

  Checking again that the second cab was still heading away from him, he trotted back down the street to the intersection, seeing an anonymous white van approach. It pulled over, and he hurried to the back. The rear door opened. “You okay?” Tony asked as he helped Adam inside.

  “Yeah.” The back of the van had been turned into a mobile operations center, albeit a very cramped one. Kyle and Holly Jo sat in staggered positions, the various components of their portable workstations secured to racks on the cabin walls. Tony had a similar arrangement for his own system. “What about Bianca?”

  “She’s fine, so far,” Holly Jo reported.

  “Good. Kyle, where’s the drone?”

  Kyle indicated one of his monitors. It showed an aerial view of the intersection, the van stationary at the roadside. “Right overhead.”

  “Get it back to the casino. We need eyes on Zykov’s penthouse.”

  “On it.” The intersection swept off the screen as the UAV turned and ascended.

  The van set off. “How are you going to get in there?” Holly Jo asked.

  Adam gave her one of Vanwall’s sardonic smiles. “That’s a good question.”

  Tony spoke into his headset. “Levon, we need those hotel floor plans. The routes we considered to reach the penthouse—bring them back up.”

  Levon’s voice came through the comm system. “You do remember that all those routes looked incredibly dangerous, right?”

  “It’d crossed my mind,” said Adam.

  “Juuuust checking.”

  Adam regarded the cases containing the PERSONA equipment. “There’s no way I’ll be able to get across the roof carrying those. I need a backpack—something that leaves my hands free.”

  Holly Jo peered under her console. “There’s a laptop bag here that should be big enough. It’s only got a shoulder strap, though.”

  “Nothing better?” Tony asked, getting head shakes in response. “Okay, it’ll have to do. Pass it down.”

  Adam opened the cases. It was not so much the dimensions of the PERSONA device and its recorder unit that would be a problem as their weight—and fragility. The large, solid cases had plenty of high-impact foam padding inside them. A laptop bag, however big, would have almost nothing. “It’d make things easier if I didn’t take the recorder.”

  “Martin’s orders,” said Tony. “We need a backup of Zykov’s persona in case anything goes wrong.”

  “That would mean imprinting it into Adam twice,” Holly Jo objected.

  Adam chuckled sarcastically. “If anything goes wrong fifty floors up, the only thing I’ll be imprinting will be the sidewalk.” He took the bag from Tony and opened it. It was big enough to hold both parts of the PERSONA system … just. The smaller medical case was another matter. “Kyle, that strap holding your laptop in place. Toss it over.”

  Kyle unhooked the black nylon band and threw it down the cabin. “Hope we don’t hit any bumps, brah,” he said, awkwardly wedging the laptop in position with his knees.

  Adam looped the strap through the medical case’s handle and secured it with a tight knot. He slung it over his shoulder to check the length. “Not very stylish,” said Holly Jo.

  “It’ll have to do. How long till we reach the casino?”

  Tony checked a screen displaying a map of Macao.

  “Three minutes.”

  “Okay. What’s Bianca doing?”

  Despite the night’s warmth, the blustery wind fifty stories up had forced Bianca and Zykov back inside the penthouse. “Sit, sit,” said the Russian, gesturing at a plush sofa. She did so, only to be taken aback as he plopped down right beside her, one arm along the back of the sofa behind her.

  It took every ounce of willpower to prevent her sudden rabbit-in-headlights feeling from showing. Instead, she took a sip of champagne, switching her glass to the hand closer to him so her arm would act as a subtle psychological barrier. “Mmm, this is lovely,” she said, holding the elegant flute up to the light. “What label is it?”

  Zykov shrugged. “French. I don’t know. But yes, it is nice.” His hand dropped down to touch her shoulder.

  “So, ah,” she said hurriedly, “you were a paratrooper, then? That sounds very exciting. You know, I’m genuinely interested in what it must be like to be a soldier. My father was one, so I suppose that accounts for my fascination!” He was actually a teacher, and would be horrified at the prospect, but she offered him a brief mental apology before pressing on. “I’ve heard that Russian military training is very tough. Is that true?”

  Zykov seemed torn between annoyance at the conversational diversion and being flattered by her interest. He finally smiled, accepting the latter—for now. “It is, yes. We are tough in Russia—toughest in the world. We have to be, it is a very tough country! We hear stories about what hard men the British and the Americans are with their SAS and their Delta Force. Ha! Even an ordinary private in the Russian army is stronger!”

  “Bianca,” Holly Jo said quietly through the almost forgotten earwig while Zykov spoke. “Adam is coming into the casino now. Keep Zykov occupied for as long as you can.”

  “You’re doing great,” Tony added. “Oh, and what he just said about Delta? Totally not true.”

  Bianca smiled at his remark, realizing too late that the Russian had taken it as directed at him. “I will show you how strong I am, if you like,” he said, leering.

  She felt panic rising, again struggling to keep her true feelings hidden. “I’m sure you’re very strong,” she said. “You look as if you work out a lot.”

  Zykov’s conflict between lust and ego was harder-fought this time, but again came out in favor of the latter—just. “Yes,” he said, his wandering hand now taking a firmer hold on her shoulder, “I do. I lift weights, I run …”

  “I think Bianca really wants you to get up there as fast as you can,” Holly Jo told Adam as he approached the elevators. The laptop bag, stuffed to bursting point with the PERSONA hardware, thumped against his hip with every step, and the makeshift strap on the medical case was uncomfortably short. His discomfort was made worse by the numerous items inside his jacket.

  “Is she in trouble?” he replied, pretending to talk into his phone.

  “Not yet, but Zykov’s making moves on her. And I don’t think he’ll take no for an answer much longer.”

  “I’m at the elevators now.” To one side, two lifts stood apart from the others, a uniformed Imperial employee standing in attendance—or rather, on guard. Access to the private elevators to the fiftieth floor was strictly controlled.

  That wasn’t where he was going—yet. He waited for a regular elevator to arrive, then entered, pushing the button for the forty-ninth floor. “Levon, what have you got?”

  “I found you a way up to the roof,” came the reply from STS. “The central section of the penthouse level is mostly machinery—air-conditioning, elevator winches, things l
ike that. There’s a maintenance access on forty-nine that leads up there, and from there you can reach a service area with a hatch to the roof.”

  The elevator began its ascent. “How far to Zykov’s penthouse?”

  “Well, that’s the thing.” Levon sounded less than happy. “You know that sign on the roof that says IMPERIAL in big neon letters?”

  “Yes?”

  “And you know how that’s in the middle of the roof, and the penthouses are on the corners?”

  “Levon …”

  “The hatch opens right behind the center of the sign, okay?” Levon explained. “You’ve got to go halfway along the top of the damn building. And when you get to the penthouse, you’ve still got to climb down from the overhang. It’s nearly twenty feet to the balcony—and over eight hundred straight down!”

  Tony was marginally more reassuring. “Kyle’s got the UAV in position. It looks like there’s a beam on the underside of the roof you’ll be able to use.”

  “Looks like?” said Adam dubiously.

  “The plans say it’s a structural support. Let’s hope they didn’t change anything.”

  “Yeah, let’s hope!” The elevator continued to climb. “Okay, I’m almost there. Which way to this maintenance room?”

  “Turn left,” Holly Jo told him as the ascent slowed, then stopped. Adam stepped out. The corridor was a creamy white with a deep scarlet carpet, woven with the repeating pattern of a Chinese dragon. A security camera was mounted high on the wall directly opposite the elevator doors. He went left. “Take the next corner,” she said as he approached a cross corridor. Another camera watched the intersection. He rounded the turn. “Okay, the door is just on your left.”

  He gave it a quick glance as he passed. A sign saying NO ENTRY in several languages; a keycard lock. He had a computerized keycard in his pocket that could hack it, but it would take at least twenty seconds to find the right code, during which time he would be in full view of the security camera. He kept walking. “Levon, can you do anything about the cameras?”

  “From DC?” came the distinctly sarcastic reply. “They’re on a local system—you know, a closed circuit? They’re not hooked up to the Internet, man.”

  “No need to twist your panties, I was just asking.” At the corridor’s far end was another camera—but, he realized, its offset position relative to the one behind him meant there was a blind spot in the security coverage. Only it was small, a narrow triangle against one wall …

  It was enough.

  A fire extinguisher was clipped to the wall. He yanked it free as he passed and pulled out the safety tab before squeezing the handle to set it off. Water gushed out. He sprayed the wall and carpet for several strides, then dropped the canister just before the end of the blind spot. “Holly Jo, can you patch my phone through to the front desk?”

  “Sure I can, but why—”

  “Put me through.” He tapped her number into his phone and waited. Seconds passed, subtle changes in the background hiss telling him that the call was being rerouted—then it rang.

  A brief wait, then: “Imperial Casino and Hotel, how may I help you?”

  “Uh, hi,” said Adam, exaggerating Vanwall’s accent to make himself sound like a clueless tourist, “I’m staying here, I’m on the forty-ninth floor? Uh, someone’s set off a fire extinguisher. There’s water everywhere, it’s a real mess.”

  “Can you tell me the number of the nearest room, please?”

  He had memorized it with a quick glance. “Yeah, sure. It’s outside room forty-nine fifteen.”

  “Thank you, sir. We’ll send someone to clean it up right away. We’re sorry for any inconvenience.”

  “No problem. Bye.” He disconnected. “Okay, let’s see how quick their maids are.”

  He stopped near the end of the corridor, pretending to be involved in a phone conversation for the benefit of the camera. It didn’t take long before someone arrived to assess the problem. It wasn’t a maid, but a man in gray overalls. He rounded the far end of the hallway, shook his head in disapproval on seeing the fallen extinguisher, then plodded over to pick it up.

  Adam started toward him. The maintenance worker’s keycard was hanging from a reel on his tool belt. Keeping the card on a short, self-retracting cord was supposed to make it impossible to lose or steal, but there were ways around the latter. He put a hand in one pocket, feeling cold metal.

  The man lifted the extinguisher and turned to return it to its place. Adam walked up behind him and with a swift, precise motion swept his hand at his belt. A moment’s hard pressure on the multitool’s clippers and snick, the cord was cut, the flat sound covered by an “Excuse me.” He caught the card before it had time to fall more than an inch and strode past without looking back. If the man had realized what had happened, a shout would come at any moment …

  The only sound that reached him was the clunk of the extinguisher being pushed back into its clips. Adam approached the door to the maintenance room, the card ready. Now he glanced back. The man was still occupied with his task.

  Adam angled toward the door, sliding the card into the slot with a marksman’s precision. Green light and a clack from the lock. He quickly opened the door and went through, the laptop bag scuffing against the frame. Unless someone had been looking directly at the camera feed at that exact moment, his illicit entrance would have been too fast to be noticed. He paused as the door swung shut, listening for a response from the hotel worker …

  Nothing. He hadn’t been seen.

  “Levon, I’m inside the maintenance area,” he said. The room was utilitarian, unpainted cinder block and dry-wall. Cabinets and shelves contained cleaning products and racks of replacement fittings: lightbulbs, lamps, faucets, even televisions.

  “Okay, the way to the roof is straight ahead,” Levon told him, but he was already moving; there was nowhere else to go. He passed more cabinets and stacked boxes, reaching a narrow metal staircase that zigzagged upward. He ascended, footsteps echoing.

  The room above was only dimly lit. Large pieces of machinery lurked in the shadows, a loud electrical hum coming from somewhere nearby. “Where’s the hatch?”

  “Head right from the top of the stairs,” said Levon. He turned to see a narrow passage, and went along it. The hum grew louder as he neared a short set of steps. “The hatch is at the end.”

  “I see it.” It was set into the steeply angled roof. He climbed the steps. The hatch was padlocked, but a few seconds’ work with one of his tools took care of that. He swung it open.

  He was right behind the illuminated IMPERIAL sign, the glare from its thousands of powerful bulbs dazzling even indirectly. Macao spread out vertiginously before him.

  And he was suddenly gripped by fear, a cold terror paralyzing him. His hand clamped around the edge of the hatch. The city far below seemed to roll, as if the towering casino had turned to rubber.

  He forced out words. “We’ve got a problem.”

  “What is it?” Holly Jo asked.

  “It turns out Vanwall … is afraid of heights.”

  Bianca was running out of things to say. Zykov had oozed closer, his hand caressing her shoulder, making his intentions absolutely clear.

  And he was getting impatient. “Bah, enough about that,” he said, waving away her latest attempt to draw him into a hopefully very long story about his military career. “Forget the past, eh? What is done is done. What counts is what we do next, eh?”

  “Well, what I’d like to do next is …” She quickly finished her drink. “Use the bathroom, I’m afraid!” She shrugged his hand off her arm and stood. “Sorry, but sometimes nature’s call does come first.”

  The look in Zykov’s eye frightened her for a moment. Her resistance was angering him. “In there,” he said in a brusque tone, waving toward a door.

  “Back soon.” Wishing that she had thought to take off her shoes, she went through it—finding to her alarm that she had just entered Zykov’s bedroom, his king-sized bed dominating the
space. Another glass wall to the balcony overlooked the island city.

  A door led to a bathroom. She thumped it shut behind her, turning the lock with a firm clack and leaning back against the polished wood. “Holly Jo!”

  “Yes?”

  “Where the hell is Adam?”

  * * *

  “Why the hell didn’t this come up before?” said Tony.

  Even through the earwig, Adam had trouble hearing him over the gusting wind. He forced his hand off the hatch to cover his ear and blot out part of the noise. “It didn’t register until I saw the drop.” A vision of a similarly high vantage point—though inverted—leapt vividly from his adopted persona’s memories. “Vanwall once crossed the wrong people in Vegas, and they hung him upside down off the roof of the Sands!”

  “You’re not Vanwall,” Tony reminded him. “You’re Adam Gray, and you’re not afraid of heights. Push him back down and get across that roof.”

  “Easier said than done.” He reluctantly stepped through the hatch, revealing more of the vista below. His sense of vertigo returned.

  Not my sense. His. I don’t have vertigo. I’ve …

  He wasn’t sure how he was so certain, only that he was certain. The more he tried to recall why, the greater the feeling that something was missing from his mind.

  Not missing. Taken—

  “I know you can do it,” said Tony, bringing his focus back to more immediate concerns. “Ignore Vanwall. He’s just an imprint, and he’s done his job. You don’t need him anymore.”

  Another step. The wind caught the bags he was carrying, their straps digging into his shoulders as they shifted. The neon cityscape swayed beneath him. Despite the wind in his face, he felt as if there were no air.

  This isn’t me! I’m not afraid. Ignore his fear. It’s his, not mine. I can do this.

  Adam drew in several breaths, filling his lungs. He took in the view again, picking out points of interest: a flashing sign on another casino, cars weaving ant-like through an intersection. They remained steady.