Star Angel: Dawn of War (Star Angel Book 3)

by David G. McDaniel

  The sheer velocity thrummed through her with a shuddering rush.

  Out in the clear on the flat, wide multi-lane she rolled them up, hammering the shifter—bam!—bam!—blitzing beneath the highway lights so fast their alternating pools of illumination became a psychotic strobe. Flashing a hundred beats per minute, the effect surreal. Like having an out-of-body experience, floating free as the bike absolutely sucked the highway into its maw, snapping left-right through traffic. She blinked furiously in the bitter, howling wind, tucked behind the small fairing, fighting to keep her eyes open, hands stinging in pain as the cold, high-speed air cut across her knuckles like a knife. Beneath her the engine roared. Hot, primal, hungry for more.

  She gave it to it.

  Able now to at least see, if only a disorienting, flashing, hair-stinging blur, her confidence rose. The highway was wide. There was room to move. She uncorked the Ducati all the way. Twisted the throttle to its stop, top gear, Lorenzo’s low-profile sports car in her sights dead ahead. The Italian race bike was a high-power rifle and she was aiming it straight on target: Bang! Riding the bullet, clearing 300 klicks and on. Faster. 310. 320. 330 …

  She pulled to the right around a car in the middle lane, Lorenzo weaving sharply up ahead. Left around a truck; what would’ve been an easy drift at sane speeds, now a power-lifting yank, hanging off each side of the bike, back and forth, Zac pulling with her. Left. Over and … right. Then right to the far lane. Left around another semi-truck and another, straight on between two more rolling side by side, up the centerline between them at plus-one-hundred miles an hour and out the front like a missile being fired between their hoods.

  Shooom!

  They were gaining.

  Lorenzo must’ve sensed it and veered hard toward another exit—smacking up the ramp in a shower of sparks, flying off the highway into the night. At the speed he was going if that ramp dumped to any sort of an intersection or curve it was all over.

  Jess prayed that it did.

  But his red lights whipped out of sight and were gone high above, even as she pulled them over in pursuit, heaving Zac’s weight behind her, centering up the exit ramp and slamming them straight into it ...

  Whuunn! she grunted as the suspension caught their huge inertial mass, the bike hitting the grade at speed, carbon hardpoints sparking as they banked and dragged, way out on the edge of the envelope.

  Now she was into it.

  She had the soul of the machine, as she always did in her races as a kid—eventually, in every race, she got it, and when it came it was hers. Indeed. When it came and she knew the machine she could extend it to its limits. Beyond. And she had this one.

  Even Zac was a little freaked.

  “You got it?” he yelled as they charged up the ramp and off the highway, a tinge of extra volume in his voice.

  Boy did she.

  “I’ve got it!” her voice was completely inaudible. Hair a wild medusa’s mane, a thousand tiny snakes stinging her eyes, stinging her shoulders, her frozen cheeks. She wasn’t even sure she could truly see any more. Not with her eyes. Some other sense directed her.

  WHOOOA! she shot them up the top of the ramp and over, catching air …

  BOOOMP! the bike hit on the other side and bottomed out under their weight, and with a slight hook to the right the road was clear and straight—as Lorenzo would’ve known.

  Of course he knows. This is his turf.

  The car was dead ahead and again they were gaining. And as Jess realized they were close she began thinking ahead to the next phase. The whole reason they were chasing him: to catch him. Under other circumstances she would have no idea how to stop a car with a bike, but she had Zac. Get him close enough and it was all over for Lorenzo.

  Out of her peripheral vision, such as it was, she saw the dark mass of the mountain range to their left, looming against the gray-light of a gathering dawn. Could almost sense Lorenzo in the car ahead, almost feel him, desperate to lose them.

  You’re mine.

  * *

  Drake continued shaking feeling back into his head. The room was still spinning but he was aware enough to grasp the facts: Lorenzo got away and so did the girl. On top of that, the Spanish police were arriving and the whole club was about to get locked down. If they were going to have any chance of getting out of there without incident they needed to do it soon.

  Bobby walked up to him. A few of his other agents were there, the rest out in the lot or in the woods, relaying information which was basically useless.

  This Op was screwed.

  How the hell did he do that?! He rubbed the back of his head.

  Whatever Lorenzo did, whatever he used, some electromagnetic device concealed in his sleeve or some other advanced weapon or—a frightening possibility, actual psionic powers—they had to take a serious look at reports they’d previously dismissed.

  The Bok were hiding more than a few secrets.

  “Take a look at this,” Bobby got his attention, holding out what looked to be a tablet or a large phone. Drake squinted and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He took the device.

  “Recognize it?” Bobby asked.

  Drake turned it over in his hand. It had an unusual feel. Like some kind of sturdy composite, like aircraft-grade materials or something. It had a screen, a flat back. No branding on it. None. That alone piqued his curiosity. No brand. Could it be some kind of custom job?

  He looked to Bobby, hoping he had an answer.

  But Bobby didn’t.

  “I just found it,” he said. “I can’t seem to turn it on. There isn’t a button.”

  Drake turned it over. Didn’t see any either. No ports, no camera eye, no audio holes or any other way to interact with it. At least nothing obvious.

  What the hell is this?

  He was beginning to get a creepy feeling holding it.

  “I tried dragging the screen,” said Bobby. “Nothing.”

  Drake looked at the purse in Bobby’s other hand. A clubber’s stylish purse, thin strap broken. Probably in the melee.

  “Was it in that?”

  Bobby nodded.

  “Wait a minute.” Drake looked to his other agents, moving about the club, looking for other clues. One of the bouncers had come over and was so far assuming the Project agents were official, but that wouldn’t last. The cops were interviewing people. They needed to get gone.

  Drake took out his phone, keyed it up and began scrolling through the discreet photos he’d snapped of Jessica and her tall friend. He stopped on one.

  “There.” He held the phone and looked closely. “There,” he touched it lightly on the screen. “The purse. It’s hers. And look at this one,” he moved to the next photo and there Jessica was using the tablet. The very one they now held in their hands.

  “This is hers.” He held up the tablet. “This is Jessica’s.”

  * *

  Jess stabbed the brakes, locking up the rear tire in a fishtail skid. The ass-end of the Ducati slid out before she could balance it with a nose-dive at the front and whip it back online. Ice shot through her veins in that instant, colder than the air on her skin as she veered them around the tractor that had just come into sight dead ahead. Hulking and deadly, ambling down the side of the road—directly in their path as they crested a sweeping country curve.

  She felt Zac’s arm tensed around her as she straightened on the other side. He’d been prepared to lunge with her to safety but held, giving her that split second to react—trusting her as she downshifted in a blitz—click—click—click—tire smoke from the skid drifting past.

  She was in the zone. The terrifying instant passed and she cracked the throttle and lurched back to speed, lofting a mid-height wheelie through two gears, the front settling gently to ground as the acceleration crested and they hit the next corner.

  It was an insane speed on the winding, dark road. Ahead through breaks in the mountains and the forested side steppes the sky was getting lighter, but only slightly. Useful sunlight w
as still far away.

  Lorenzo’s Lamborghini—she could see it clearly now as they closed the gap—drifted hard in front of them, around tight corners, his own tires giving off smoke as he alternately locked the brakes and stabbed the gas. Zac had gotten good at working with her on the bike, pulling it over left and right as she did, dropping his knee out with her side to side, leaning radically back and forth; left curve, right curve, left, left—harder; straight, hard; brakes and down right again, Jess curling them through long, upwardly winding roads, curve after curve. Never letting them drift so close that Lorenzo could jam the brakes and ram them up the Lamborghini’s tailpipe.

  There was no doubt now. They were going to catch him and Zac would beat the snot out of him. Not kill him, which Zac could no doubt do with a pinch of his fingers; just a little extra pain for all the asshole Bok leader had put them through.

  She was furious at what he’d done back in the club.

  How the hell did he do that?!

  It was like some kind of a Jedi Force punch or something. She wondered if the Project knew anything about it. Could all the Bok do that? Or just Lorenzo? One thing was certain, these vampire wannabes were definitely hiding something.

  And she was going to find out what.

  Their pace was way too fast for the road but Lorenzo recklessly kept it up, nearly going off the shoulder on several turns. Jess hung tight, wondering what he feared. They were alone. With that little trick of his why didn’t he just stop and take care of them? He must not’ve thought he could because he kept going, determined to elude them. An effort that wasn’t going well as she continued to close the gap. Maybe he was just having fun? Anger burned hotter. As his brakes flashed on and off ahead of them, brilliant red in her vision, she was nearly close enough at some points to make out the Lamborghini bull logo on the back; could nearly see the back of his head through the slit that was the rear window.

  The sensory assault was now just part of the background and she was in the flow. Nothing to do but push; far, far past the edge. Not even inside her own body anymore, it seemed. She knew she was frozen, hands completely numb, knew she could barely see, barely feel, but none of that mattered. Like she’d become detached from the whole thing. “On” in a way that would’ve been beyond an easy description. But she was coming to expect this when pressed. Rather than shrink, rather than retreat when challenged she pushed out, rejecting fear and marshalling whatever force kept her going. And for a strange, disconnected moment, amid the absolute intensity of the chase, she thought how strange she must seem. So vulnerable whipping through the chill night on a racing machine in nothing but the skimpy black dress, by all rights a flower that should’ve long since wilted. But she hadn’t. The flower had become an oak, and the greater part of her, however impossible, however improbable, maintained that terrible focus; reaction beyond anything human.

  She was getting to know this other Jessica.

  “I can’t jump off without wrecking us,” Zac said loudly as he leaned with her into a long left-hand curve. “No matter how I do it,” he paused as they hit the end of the curve and swept harder into another, Jess downshifting to keep the bike in its powerband. As they straightened at the end and she banged up through the gears he continued, voice amazingly clear through the roar of wind and machine: “If I get off we crash.”

  And it struck her: Was this even necessary? Everything had fallen apart and she let it. After Lorenzo did … whatever he did, knocking she and Zac down, the absolute rage of her reaction was probably not the best solution. Why hadn’t she collected herself and called in the cavalry? Surely there would’ve been a better solution than this impulsive, deadly chase. Couldn’t Nani and Bianca just follow Lorenzo from orbit? At the time it seemed so urgent, especially there on the ground; as if they were about to lose him for good. Now that her blinding rage had cooled she was starting to think more clearly, and what she realized was it was time to turn things around. Call in the troops and end this. They were certainly far enough from civilization. With a quick call …

  Her heart sank. All the way out the bottom. All the way to her gut like an iron anchor into a pit, down to the road and dragging her with it. Concentration left her entirely for an instant and she nearly crashed.

  “Got it?” Zac steadied the bike as she wavered, holding them on course, off the shoulder and out of the trees.

  Ahead the gap with Lorenzo stretched.

  “The tablet,” Jess said in disbelief, voice lost utterly in the wind.

  But Zac heard.

  “Damn,” he hadn’t noticed either. “We left it, didn’t we?”

  It was over.

  * *

  “Is she alive?” Bianca wanted to know. She glanced desperately between Nani and the moving blip on the screen that was the Kel tablet. At least Jess was up and moving around. What else could Nani tell from the readings? What went wrong down there? Bianca made herself breathe. Would they now have to rescue Jess and Zac from the Project guys? Her heart beat fast in anticipation.

  Nani fumbled through screens, tapping up information.

  “I’m not getting the right bio signatures on the device,” she said, growing alarmed. Bianca went to stand by her at her console. Did that mean Jess was sick?

  “Are you ready for us?” Satori’s voice came suddenly over the channel. For a moment Nani froze, then found the right action and put Satori’s face up on a section of the domed viewscreen across the bridge.

  “What’s going on?” Satori asked, red hair and beautiful face perched atop her black uniform collar. Behind her Willet could be seen in the shot, both of them sitting aboard the Kel fighter. Ready. “We’re listening to the feeds.”

  “We don’t know yet,” Nani kept working.

  “They’re still in the club? Lorenzo got away?”

  Bianca shook her head. “We’re trying to figure it out.”

  “I don’t think they’re in the club,” Nani sounded bad. Bianca turned to her. Nerves rising higher.

  Something had happened.

  Nani shook her head slowly. Repeated: “I don’t think they’re in the club.” Then: “Someone else has the tablet.”

  “What?” Bianca was suddenly terrified. She rushed back to her console.

  “Jessica isn’t holding the tablet. Someone else is. Not her, not Zac.”

  “Did she drop it?”

  “I’m sending a signal to clear it. We can’t take any chances.”

  “But,” Bianca’s heart was absolutely pounding in her chest, “where is she?”

  Satori’s image watched them both from the screen, eyes looking back and forth. “Are they okay?”

  Bianca couldn’t believe it. It was her job to protect her friend. Her one and only job. To scan the club, keep them in sight and not lose track of what they were doing.

  And she’d failed.

  She stared with wide eyes at the screen before her, at the milling crowds of people, at the arriving police and the police already there and the cars and more and even more people from the club and the Project agents probably among them and people going in and out, into view, out of view, standing in groups, running, walking, leaving, coming …

  Nowhere.

  Tears stung her eyes and she wiped them impatiently, tapping her screen in a rush and straining to see everything all at once. Scanning and scanning, scrolling and zooming.

  Jess was nowhere to be seen.

  She’d lost her.

  Satori was rising to action. “Should I just fly there? I’m going to fly there.”

  “No.” Nani leaned back, trying to take stock of the situation.

  Jess and Zac could be anywhere.

  Satori’s voice was impatient: “I’m flying there—”

  “No!” Nani got her composure. “Don’t. This is bad but … we’ve got to think this through. If someone got them you might scare them underground then we’d never find them.”

  “How could anyone ‘get’ Zac?”

  “I don’t know!” Nani had
become far more emotional than Bianca would’ve expected. Bianca looked up from her screen. In a way Nani’s over-emotion helped calm her own frustrated terror.

  “I don’t know,” Nani said more quietly. “Maybe they managed to give chase. The Bok scattered after whatever happened in the club. Maybe Jess and Zac went after them in those initial moments. Zac could’ve chased them.”

  “What about Jessica?”

  “I don’t know. Give us time to scan through the videos. I’ve got a lot of tags out there. Maybe we can pick them out by looking back. I can code something to scan the images. That should give us a clue. If they left the club and we can find out how ... maybe we can find a way to track them”

  “We should’ve had more fail-safes.” Satori’s tone was not accusatory. But what she said was true.

  Nani shook her head in disbelief. “I know. I didn’t give this enough thought.”

  Satori agreed. “None of us did. This is my fault.”

  Nani still couldn’t believe it though. “Zac should’ve been able to pull that off with no issues,” she said. “Something isn’t right.”

  “What the hell happened?”

  “We’ve got to figure it out. We can figure it out.”

  Tentatively Willet tried to add humor to the moment. “Sounds to me like everything’s going as planned,” he gave a lopsided smile. “As in, this is yet another big mess we’ll have to figure or fight our way out of. Business as usual.”

  The joke bombed. Totally.

  Bianca put her face in her hands so no one would see her cry.

  * *

  They’d broken out onto the upper edges of the mountain pass, a steep grade to their left, a plummeting drop to their right. The drop got more alarming as they went higher, racing up the snaking, increasingly narrow road, a wide, misty valley opening up below in shades of gray and black. Sunrise had probably hit elsewhere but it was still very much night there within the shadows of the towering peaks. Jess hugged around a sweeping lefthander and broke past the last rocky outcroppings, a tall forest climbing the side of the mountain to their left, the valley far below to the right. It was a spectacular view and a million bad things made it impossible to appreciate.