The sliding double doors remained open.
Come on, Laramie thought. Let’s go.
Outside the car, an authoritative voice erupted on the platform. “Stop! Do not leave!”
She glanced down the length of the train car and saw multiple passengers turn their heads toward the shouting. Kenny was holding on to a hand loop and looking back at her. His eyes mirrored her own thoughts. Not good.
On a hunch, Laramie turned her body around and sat across Carlos’s lap. He grimaced as she pulled her knees up and draped her arms around his neck.
“Huh, wha—?”
“Shhh, boyfriend,” she whispered.
He stared at her, not understanding. But Laramie couldn’t be bothered to explain. She only had eyes for the door.
A heavyset figure in a police uniform and tactical vest stepped onto the train.
Laramie’s blood ran cold. She stole glances at the faceless visor of a CORE helmet sweeping across the passengers. No doubt his helmet cameras were scanning faces against some kind of registry. The officer moved forward to make room for a second man behind him. Both of their hands rested on the service weapons on their hips.
The lead officer walked slowly down the aisle, his helmet evaluating the passengers. Some looked back with restrained indignation. Others stared at the floor or into space. None tried to hide, though.
She lifted her head in feigned curiosity, pretending their arrival was a small inconvenience to cuddling with her lover. She tried to keep her expression as bland as possible.
The officer stopped directly in front of them.
For an agonizing moment, Laramie wondered if the cops they subdued in the alley had somehow tagged Carlos. Even if that were true, would their central headquarters have been able to process and distribute a digital face match so quickly?
Someone further down the train coughed. The policeman continued to stare through his visor. Laramie’s heart beat madly in her chest.
Then the officer’s attention abruptly shifted to the passenger next to Carlos. And then the next. Laramie held her breath as the police went down the aisle and checked the remaining passengers. They stopped near the door and looked back down the compartment.
A long, tense moment passed. Then they stepped off the train. The doors sounded a warning chime and slid shut.
Laramie turned her head and saw Kenny still standing next to his hand loop. He seemed paler. As the train began to slide away, she was reasonably sure her complexion had him matched.
22
Safe House
Juliet, Alpha Centauri A
26 February 2272
“You didn’t follow orders. You were supposed to evade the police, not engage!”
Chris slapped his hand down hard on the table. Laramie flinched as the carbon-fiber structure wobbled back and forth. Their Marine host was absolutely pissed. Wyatt watched her from a few meters away with his arms across his chest.
“Engaging was the only option,” she said matter-of-factly. “Their tail was radioing in reinforcements. We watched two APCs dispatch with police. It was just a matter of time. The only possible choice was to take out the men transmitting Carlos and Sid’s position.”
“No.” Chris’s face was a light shade of crimson. “We’ve done this game before with the cops. We know what we’re doing. I gave you orders and you willfully disobeyed them, and now one of my men is dead, Staff Sergeant.”
Laramie couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Was he trying to pull rank? “And one of mine was beaten within an inch of his life. They’d both be dead if I’d let them follow a bad call.”
“They’d both be alive in this safe house! This is my turf. I’m the one that knows how things work here.”
“I’ve lived longer here than you have, pal.”
“On Juliet? Sure. In Venice? Hardly. Check your ego, Staff Sergeant. It’s clogging your ears.”
Really? Check my ego?
“You weren’t there, Chris. Kenny and I were—we had eyes on the whole net closing around them. It was the only possible choice. Even Sid knew it. He obviously went along with the plan to lay an ambush.”
Chris’s expression darkened. “Sid stopped because your guy stopped. He wasn’t going to abandon him. That doesn’t make it good judgment.”
“And what would you have had them do?”
“Hide!” he exploded. His voice was very loud, and the outburst made Laramie take an involuntary step back. “There are literally a thousand places to duck into and disappear. We do it every time. It works every time. Sid knows the drill, but you preempted his ability to do his job, Staff Sergeant.”
“I disagree. You weren’t there.”
Chris stiffened. They locked eyes, and Laramie could see the anger behind them. When he stepped around the table and started toward her, it was all she could do to hold her ground.
He stopped next to her, standing well into her personal space and glaring down at her.
Laramie forced herself to keep eye contact. Her stomach was twisting into knots.
“Sid had a family,” he said softly.
The words, the change in volume, caught her off guard. Unsure of a retort, she stared back while the silence stretched out.
Chris finally stepped back. He turned and threw a cold look at Wyatt. “Lieutenant. My team can’t work with people who won’t coordinate with us. The deal’s off.”
Wyatt blinked. “What?”
Chris had already yanked the door open and was storming into the hall. Wyatt gave Laramie an alarmed glance and went after him.
Alone in the meeting room, Laramie’s mental defenses fell away like discarded pieces of junk. She collapsed into a chair and clutched her stomach.
She had made the right call. She knew it. She and Kenny had watched the police deploy additional forces into a giant net. Carlos and Sid were going to get flanked, cut off, and then captured or killed. Or maybe Carlos would be sitting in an interrogation room right now, pumped full of drugs as multiple detectives worked him for information.
The only chance they had was to keep the initiative and silence the cops calling in their position. It had been a calculated bet. But it had been the best choice of any of their poor options.
Hadn’t it?
The deal’s off, Chris said.
Had Laramie just botched their entire mission?
Wyatt needed intel. Chris had made an offer to help secure a high-value target. If they were able to get back through the quantum gate, RESIT would be able to question this health analyst and develop a response plan for the crisis unfolding around them. And the clock was ticking.
Now Chris had withdrawn his proposition.
What now? Maybe he’d throw them out into the street, tell them they were on their own. What would that mean for Carlos? They had pumped him full of painkillers to help with six broken ribs. What would it mean for Izzy getting help?
She already knew what it meant for Sid. Laramie closed her eyes, the guilt swelling up inside.
Sid. She hadn’t dealt with him in but a few small interactions. He had a friendly face, a bright smile. White teeth that blazed against dark-brown skin. Tactically competent. A former Marine, like Chris.
Now she thought of Chris’s last words. Sid was gone. Who did he leave behind? A wife? Children? Why weren’t they here, like Finn’s daughter? How would they find out that Sid was gone, lost to a stupid altercation with a couple of trigger-happy thugs masquerading as police?
The door opened. Wyatt stepped inside and closed it quietly behind him.
Laramie stood and shifted back into business mode. She made a quick dab at her eyes and hoped it looked inconspicuous.
“You okay?” Wyatt asked.
“Yes, sir.”
Wyatt gave her a disapproving look. She knew he didn’t like the formality. He pulled one of the empty chairs from the table and sat down.
“I have faith you made the right call, Laramie. It was a tough decision.”
She said nothing
.
He paused for a second, considering her. “I wouldn’t be here today if you couldn’t make tough decisions.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Stop that.”
Laramie turned her head away. Her eyes were starting to sting again.
“I talked to Chris, spun him down. We’re still a go. Take a couple hours and unwind. Eat. Rest. We’ll get back together at 0700 and start planning the op.”
She gave him a nod. “Yes—” She cut off the sir, realizing her voice might buckle. Now her throat was getting tight. What the hell was wrong with her?
Wyatt got up and walked to the door. He seemed to want to say something more to her. But perhaps thinking it was best just to allow her some space, he gave her a sigh and a nod and excused himself.
Laramie remained at attention in the middle of the room, suddenly alone except for the thoughts of Chris yelling, Carlos in pain, and a dead Marine whom she’d barely had a chance to know.
***
Annika sat at the dining table and focused on her bowl of meesh. It was hard to ignore all the yelling. Chris could be scary to lots of people, but to her he had always been big and cuddly. Not now, though. The whole house shook when he stormed down the hall and slammed the door behind him. That Wyatt person had been running back and forth between rooms ever since, looking as worried as Annika felt.
It scared her to see Chris like that, red and loud and ready to smash things.
The meesh was too hot. Annika swirled it around with her spoon and blew across the top. She didn’t really feel like eating. Her hands were shaky and her head seemed to hurt all the time. She didn’t even want to play with Calista. All she wanted to do was sleep.
Wyatt came back out of the meeting room again and gently shut the door. He seemed to be calmer, relieved. Annika saw him look over at her and give her a tired smile. Was he the one that Chris was mad at? She looked back at her bowl of food, suddenly self-conscious.
Footsteps let her know that Wyatt was walking toward her. She stole a glance just as he pulled out a chair and sat on the other side of the table.
“Hi there,” he said.
Annika’s breath went across the meesh and flipped over a green herb sitting on top.
“A lot of shouting, huh?”
She nodded. Yes, it was.
“I understand if you didn’t like it. I didn’t like it either.”
Okay, she thought.
Wyatt lowered his voice. “Does he get angry a lot?”
Annika kept staring at the table. Sure, Chris got mad. All of them did. They had to hide and sneak around all the time. But that was their business. Not some outsider’s.
Wyatt leaned over the table toward her. “It’s okay. Grown-ups can argue a lot. It doesn’t mean we won’t work it out.”
Annika moved her spoon around some more.
“You don’t say much, do you?”
No, Annika thought. She tried. But ever since the night they left home, words just wouldn’t come out.
What a terrifying night. Explosions rocking their house. People with guns, shooting in the halls. Annika ran to her parents’ bedroom even though her mommy was sick, lying there in bed for days and days. Somehow, she knew mommy would still protect her.
And she’d been right! Mommy heard her come in and looked right at her, her beautiful eyes inviting her to come close, the little golden fireflies dancing around like a wall that would surround her and keep her safe.
She’s been so close to being safe forever. Annika remembered how wonderful and warm she felt as the fireflies did their dance, making their nest that would live inside her and protect her forever. Nothing would be able to hurt her. Not the guns. Not the explosions. Not her own muscles, shaking and tight.
Then, before the fireflies could finish, Chris had come and dragged her away. No safety. No nest. Just an empty, half-finished dirt clump.
Thinking about it made Annika start to cry. Tears welled in her eyes and she raised her chin to dry them. She noticed Wyatt again, sitting across the table, watching closely.
She took a deep breath and tried to be brave. Annika lifted her chin and met his gaze. His face seemed friendly enough. Kind blue eyes. He had tinges of gray in his dark hair.
Wyatt gave her a smile like grown-ups did when they wanted kids to feel better.
Part of her wanted to smile back.
But she knew. She could see the little scabs in his mind. They were like pockmarks on the street after a heavy storm, with bits and pieces of rock left behind that made it hurt to walk on the surface with bare feet.
Wyatt had met the fireflies, too.
They had tried to hurt him.
They tried to hurt anyone who didn’t let them build their nest.
23
To evade security and gain access to the Health Department, Wyatt, Chris, and the rest of the team would rely on a trick that dated back nearly to prehistory. A Trojan Horse.
Laramie had hatched the idea. Supply trucks made deliveries every two days, with some variability in schedule and route taken. They would ambush one of the deliveries and commandeer the vehicle. Then, after chucking the supplies from the cargo container, their team would climb inside and drive into the garage just like they were making the normal supply run.
Chris and Wyatt decided on three fireteams of two people each. Finn and Maya made up call sign Chemo and would control Building Ops, cutting any alarms and allowing them to use the security equipment to locate Jack Bell inside the building. Laramie and Kenny were call sign Battle and were responsible for securing the garage—and their escape route—once they made it inside the compound. Finally, Wyatt and Chris comprised call sign Acid and would be responsible for the actual abduction. They would secure Dr. Bell’s cooperation, as Chris put it, escort him to the garage, board the truck, and drive back out with no one the wiser. From building entry to egress would take less than thirty minutes. Shipping and Receiving wouldn’t even have time to swap out the outbound container.
When it was time to go, Wyatt assembled their patchwork team in the living room of the safe house. The troopers and Marines jostled burly shoulders and bristling weapons to make room for themselves.
“You all know what we’re about to execute,” Wyatt began. “We’re going to infiltrate a high-security area and forcibly remove a High Value Target. This person has intel that may be vital to the future of Juliet. Now, several of you grew up here. Some of you immigrated here. Others, like me, were brought here under orders. Our branches of service are different, some Marines, some RESIT. It doesn’t matter. We’re all here now. We’re all on the same team. We’re all obligated to make this happen. If we don’t, we leave twenty million people to a choice between an epidemic disease or a totalitarian regime. That’s not an option.
“We will attempt to accomplish this task with stealth. I will be honest with you—this may get ugly. As valuable as our target will be to us, he is equally valuable to the current government. We may be met with significant resistance. If that’s the case, everyone needs to be prepared to fight. We must have faith that our cause is true and we must not hesitate, for our own sake, and for those around us.
“We’re only going to have one shot at this. If we fail to capture the High Value Target, we will be hunted down. If we do not execute the extraction plan, we will be hunted down. Stay switched on. Our lives may depend on it.”
Wyatt looked around the room. “Any questions?”
Much to his surprise, not a single hand went up. He glanced at Laramie and Chris in turn, each of whom gave him a level look.
“Then may God help us,” he finished. “Get ready to move out.”
The teams looked over their weapons and did a final comm check. Wyatt noticed Chris kept wearing a smirk, like something was funny. “What is it?” he asked.
Chris cinched up the laces on his boot. “Nothing. Just that little bit about God at the end.”
“Not your thing?”
“No.”
Wyat
t picked up his Vector. “We don’t have to have the same beliefs.”
“It’s not about belief.”
“What do you mean?”
“Study your history. Religion isn’t about salvation. It’s a tool for oppression.”
“I was praying to God, not to a religion.”
“Same thing.”
Wyatt shook his head. “Maybe after we get through this, we can share theology over a couple beers.”
“I might have been open to that once. A long time ago.” Chris finished with his boot and gave him a sanctimonious smile that said you poor, dumb fool.
Wyatt felt a flash of disappointment as he watched Chris walk away. If anyone needed some reassurance of a higher power right now, he was sure it was the master sergeant. He hoped Chris could find someone to help him with his anger.
Wyatt hoped he could find the strength he needed.
The teams readied to leave and pulled on rancher ponchos to help conceal their tactical gear. At 1007 hours, they exited the safe house and hiked along alleys and back streets toward the Health Department compound. Foot traffic was light, and the only police presence they saw was an Ibex VTOL patrol craft circling high above the rooftops.
An hour later they reached the staging site for the supply truck ambush. The old brick building had previously been a popular restaurant. Now it sat abandoned, its owners and clientele long since evicted as part of a martial cleansing of the neighborhood. Broken glass littered the street in a final rebuke of the police action.
Wyatt managed to shove aside an old utility panel that had been used to fill a busted window front. They climbed through the opening and found a dimly lit dining area. A few of the tables were tipped over and damaged. The majority still had place settings spread out on patterned tablecloths that waited for noontime diners who would never come. A large antique bar filled the side of the room with a giant mirror behind it, amazingly still in one piece.
Escape Velocity (The Quantum War Book 1) Page 16
