by John Bowers
“We’ve counted five so far. I think there was another one in the back of the police car, but we got him.”
“Is Walker with them?”
“Haven’t seen him, sir. I think these are all local pigs.”
“What kind of hardware are they carrying?”
“Handguns. They’re shooting back, but they’re not hitting anything.”
“Can you keep them busy?”
“You bet. They’re cornered behind their cars. They can’t move without exposing themselves, and if they keep shooting back, they’ll probably run out of ammo pretty quick.”
“Okay, conserve your shots, but keep them honest. I want you to keep them tied down while the others look for Walker.”
“You think he’s here?”
“I’m certain of it. Bodie, are you there?”
A new voice came into his ear.
“Right here, sir.”
“Bodie, you’re with Phil? Where’s Patrick?”
“In the northwest tower.”
“Okay. Bodie, what I want you to do is a foot patrol. Check inside the castle, starting at the front door, and work your way toward my office. Walker is on the property somewhere, and we need to find him. If you don’t find him on the main floor, start at the next level. Don’t overlook anything. Check every room, crack, crevice, and shithole. You got it?”
“Yes, sir, I’m on it.”
“Patrick, you’re in the north tower?”
“Yes, Mr. Chairman.”
“Anything in sight?”
“Not a thing. The rain is so heavy you can’t see more than fifty yards, but nothing has approached the castle from this direction.”
Saracen sighed. “Okay, keep ‘em peeled, report anything you see. And stay flexible. I may have to call you again.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Brandy, are you there?”
No answer.
“Brandy, are you there? Answer me, goddammit!”
Silence was his only reply. Saracen felt the hairs on his neck tingle.
“Brandy? Come in, Brandy!”
No answer. Saracen felt a stab of alarm. Brandy was in charge of the Cross woman…had something happened to her? Could Walker have possibly rescued the prisoner?
“Bodie! Come in!”
“Bodie here.”
“Change of plan. Go find Brandy and see why she isn’t answering. She should be near the ballroom. She’s holding our prisoner in the old utility closet.”
“I’m on it, Boss.”
“If she’s okay, tell her to call me. If she’s not, I want to hear from you.”
“Yes, sir. Got it.”
Saracen slammed the transmitter down and sat drumming his fingers on the desk. He didn’t want to acknowledge his fear, but he was sweating—and it was starting to smell sour. He picked up the .32 automatic from his desk and ejected the clip. He had deliberately left it where the Cross woman could reach it, just to gauge her determination; she had about emptied her bowels when he pulled the trigger on her, and the memory made him grin.
He reached into a desk drawer and pulled out a loaded clip, slammed it into the bottom of the grip, and pulled the slide to chamber the first round. He manually released the hammer and laid the gun down again.
He glanced at his watch, then gazed out the window. It was getting dark, but the storm hadn’t abated an inch. The glass vibrated from powerful wind gusts, and soon the rain would turn to slush, then snow. It was going to be a nasty night.
But after today, smooth sailing. Once Walker was dead, there would be no one else to—
He spun in his chair. Victoria Cross stood six feet away. She had approached on bare feet, and on the plush carpet he hadn’t heard a sound. It was the cocking of her pistol that warned him—she had the drop on him. The question was, did she have the balls to actually shoot him?
He puffed his cheeks to bleed off his stress. He stared at the black hole of the .38 in her hand, then lifted his gaze to meet her eyes. She was a beautiful woman, he reflected. Not as pretty as Walker’s fiancée, who had been Vegan-born and the most stunning woman he’d ever seen, but Cross was still a looker—blond hair, blue eyes, a fine physique…and a lawyer’s nasty attitude.
The eyes looked cold as ice as she stared at him, unblinking. But how strong was her resolve? It was one thing to point a gun at somebody, but actually pulling the trigger was another matter. Not everyone could do it.
She looked like hell. Her hair and face had been washed, but not well, and were streaked with blood; her blouse was stained with red smudges and pink rings where partially congealed blood had been washed away. He frowned—when had she gotten all bloody?
“Miss Cross, did you hurt yourself?”
“No. I’m in perfect health.” Her eyes turned cynical. “But thanks for asking.”
“Then where did you…”
His eyes widened in horror.
“Brandy?” He gripped the arms of his chair and pushed himself halfway to his feet. “What did you do to Brandy?”
“Sit down, Saracen! Don’t give me an excuse to kill you, because an excuse is all I want.”
Throbbing with anger, he settled back into the chair, hatred in his eyes.
“You didn’t have to kill her. Brandy was a good girl.”
“I’m sure she was. Like the girl who killed Nick Walker’s fiancée. I’ll be she was a real ingénue.”
He forced himself to relax. He would have to talk his way out of this, at least until he could get his hand on the automatic—but he was good at talking. His confidence began to return. He managed to put on a sorrowful expression.
“You’re talking about Tracy. Actually, Tracy was a bit of a loose cannon. I never could control her.”
“I doubt that.”
“No, seriously, she was a hothead. Several times she wanted to take Walker out ahead of schedule and I had to talk her down.”
“But you didn’t talk her down from killing Suzanne Norgaard.”
“That was never part of the plan. Why would I want to kill that woman? Walker was the one I wanted, and then only because he persisted in persecuting me.”
He eyed the gun in her hand, then met her stark blue eyes.
“Are you here to kill me, Miss Cross? You, a Federation Attorney? Sworn to uphold the law? How would that play back home if you committed cold-blooded murder?”
Victoria smiled, her eyes still hard as ice.
“Federation law,” she said. “I’m sworn to uphold and defend Federation law. But we’re not in the Federation.”
He forced a laugh to cover the quiver in the pit of his stomach.
“Good point. You just made a very good point. We’re not in the Federation anymore, and Walker has no authority to hunt me on Tau Ceti. Everything he’s doing here—and that includes you—is illegal.”
“Maybe. But the local authorities haven’t made any attempt to stop us. Since it’s their planet, I think that says something, don’t you?”
“Ah, Miss Cross, now you’re going all courtroom on me. I don’t have your legal mind, and you’re taking advantage of me.”
He rested his right hand on the desk, barely a foot from the .32 automatic. Victoria brandished her weapon.
“Move your hand away from that gun.”
Saracen looked surprised, then pulled his hand back a few inches.
“That gun isn’t loaded. You of all people should know that.”
“You were fiddling with it when I was coming down the stairs. I’m guessing it’s loaded now.”
Saracen smiled. “Shall we find out?”
“No. Get out of the chair, very slowly, and get on your knees. Face the win—”
Three cannon shots exploded through the room from not far away. Startled, Victoria jerked around to look, then realized her mistake and swung back—but too late. Saracen seized the .32, thumbed the hammer, and fired in a single fluid motion. The shot wasn’t nearly as loud as the first three, but it was on target.
V
ictoria went down with a scream.
Chapter 34
Nick made his way nine or ten steps up a narrow stone stairway and found himself in a musty alcove overlooking a wide room with no specific function that he could determine. The furniture looked old and well used, but the carpet was new and the chandelier hanging from the ceiling might have been made of crystal. The chandelier was dimly lit, throwing just enough light to chase away the deepest shadows. Nick scanned the room for a few seconds but saw no one; he turned to the right and began walking toward the west end of the castle. He had a strong suspicion that the window he’d seen on the west end might be a view from Saracen’s office.
His path led him up a few more steps to a long, poorly lit corridor that stretched off into the distance. He walked quickly, trying to be quiet, but the floor here had no carpet and his boots echoed. He kept a tight grip on the .44 in his right hand, with the rifle resting on his left shoulder. He probably should have left the rifle somewhere, but if he had, he might have trouble finding it again. In any case, it didn’t belong to him, and he couldn’t risk losing it.
His cheeks puffed as he bled off adrenaline. That old, familiar sensation was back, the one he’d felt in combat—a singing of the nerves, a sensation somewhere between mild anxiety and extreme terror. The last time he’d felt it was on the Alpha Centauri Express.
He passed through a couple of dark areas where the light did not reach, but still saw no one. He moved on a few more yards and stopped, staring at the stone beneath his feet.
Someone had died here.
The partially congealed blood pool was dark and wide, stretching completely across the corridor. He felt thunder in his head when he saw the closet door, and braced himself—was Victoria in there?
He rested the rifle against the wall and, with his left hand, reached for the closet door. His right hand held the .44 steady as he pulled it open.
The closet was not lit, but even the darkness didn’t completely cloak the pale white form he saw lying curled up inside. She was lying on her left side, soaked in blood, her face turned upward. He leaned in for a closer look and felt his heart start beating again.
It wasn’t Victoria.
He didn’t know the girl, had never seen her before, but her face and hair matched Mijo’s description of Brandy: “Kind of pretty. Her hair is short and all different colors.”
Nick stood slowly and let his breath out in a sigh of relief. This had to be Victoria’s work. Saracen wouldn’t kill one of his own girls, at least not like this, in a deserted corridor. His best guess was that Victoria had been held overnight in the closet and, somehow, managed to turn the tables on her captor.
But where was she now?
He closed the closet door, picked up his rifle, and stepped across the blood pool. He could only guess which way Victoria had gone, but it seemed likely she would avoid the front door of the castle. She was either looking for another way out, a place to hide until he arrived, or…she was going after Saracen.
He had to find her. She might be a Star Marine—or think she was—but she had never been in battle, and Saracen was far more wily than she could ever imagine. He had to find her before she—
“Hey!”
Nick froze. The voice had come from behind him. He turned. A man in his late twenties was approaching, pistol in hand.
“Have you seen Brandy? She isn’t answering her…hey, who are you? What—”
Nick swung to face him and drew a bead with the .44.
“Get down! On your face, right now!”
The other man stared at him in shock, recognition kicking in. Instead of an answer, he swung his pistol up and fired. It was a hasty shot and the bullet snapped past two feet from Nick’s head. Nick fired twice—and wished he hadn’t. The roar of the .44 inside the stone castle was deafening. His ears rang after the first shot, and the second almost split his skull.
The other man fell backward and smashed into the stone floor, his pistol clattering away. Nick stepped over the blood pool again and knelt beside him, checking for a pulse. He didn’t find one. He studied the young man’s face for a moment but didn’t recognize him. He was probably one of the six men Thomas had said Saracen brought with him from Alpha Centauri, but Nick had no idea which one. He picked up the pistol and popped the clip, which went into his pocket, then tossed the weapon into the closet with Brandy’s body. Leaving the gunman where he was, he stepped across the blood pool one more time and, ears still ringing, continued toward the west end of the castle.
***
Connie Ventura had killed a man earlier in the day, but had never been in a real gunfight. Even though posted to a frontier world, she wasn’t considered a “field” agent; rather, her role was to observe, collect, and analyze data, then pass it along to her superiors. More than anything, she was an analyst.
She had been trained, of course. She was proficient in a number of weapons, but until this morning, had never used one in the course of her work.
Today was the day. She cowered behind the second police car with Barnes and Blankenship, trying to keep her head intact while she looked for the rifleman. She never really saw him, just the dark tower with an occasional flash as the gunman sniped at them.
He didn’t even seem to be trying to hit anyone. His first shot had killed Dickens in the backseat of Thomas’s car, but from his vantage point he probably could have wiped out the rest if he really wanted to. He seemed to be playing a delaying game.
That didn’t make it any less miserable. Crouching in the freezing rain, unable to find any other cover, Connie had never been more frightened in her life. Her tiny .25 automatic was useless in this scenario, and the deputies’ return fire wasn’t very effective either.
Blankenship finally managed to activate his loudspeaker.
“You in the tower! Hold your fire! We just want to talk.”
The instant reply was a bullet through the light bar, shorting out the speaker.
So much for negotiation.
Soaked and freezing, Connie wiped soggy hair out of her eyes and waited to see what might happen next.
***
Nick knew he was moving too fast. This was hostile territory that hadn’t been reconnoitered, full of dark holes and sinister shadows. Any arch or doorway could conceal a threat, and with no idea how many hostiles were in the building, he really should be taking his time, checking the terrain. But Victoria was here somewhere, he was certain of it—and she might be in trouble. Saracen wouldn’t hesitate to kill her if he got the chance, and Nick had to get to her before that happened.
He moved quickly, at a crouch, making haste down the hallway. He came to a section where the left side of the corridor gave way to arches overlooking a large ballroom. He stopped and scanned the room below, but again saw nothing. Dimly, in the distance, a rifle still fired occasionally, answered by the pop of handguns, but he didn’t hear them. His ears still rang.
He started to move again, came to an arch with a door, and carefully made his way past it. Again he stopped to survey the room below; this one wasn’t as big as the ballroom, but was still pretty damn big, with furniture settings all over the floor. At the far end was the window he’d seen from the lake, and just in front of that…
Ken Saracen was holding a gun on Victoria. She was sitting against the wall with one hand pressed against her shoulder. He saw blood.
Nick backed off, his heart pounding. The sight of Saracen holding a gun on Victoria shocked him, even though he wasn’t surprised. It looked as though Saracen had shot her—which brought memories flooding back; Suzanne lying on the sidewalk, gripping his sleeve, her stunning green eyes locked onto him as, unable to speak, she silently begged him to save her.
The man responsible for that was just a few yards away, threatening the life of another woman he loved…
Check that—a woman he used to love…
No. If he was honest, that wasn’t right either. It was Victoria.
Victoria Cross.
The fi
rst woman he ever loved.
But they were over, and had been for years. He still liked her, certainly, and respected her, but…love?
He had stopped loving her fourteen years ago…
Then why did fear paralyze his heart? Why did cold dread well up in him like poison in the darkness?
Fuck this. He didn’t have time for soul-searching, not with Saracen so near at hand.
He wiped a hand over his face, then got down on his stomach and peered over the side, scanning the room for an entry point. He saw the door that led to the ballroom, but that would be his last choice—if he had a choice. In the far corner he saw what looked like a spiral staircase leading down from the level he was on, but it was on the other side of the room and he didn’t know how to reach it.
Stretching his head over as far as he dared, he checked the near side of the room and saw a similar staircase. It was on his side of the large office space, and he could probably get to it from where he was. Unhappily, Saracen was facing it, and if Nick came down the steps, he would be a clear target.
Well, when in doubt…improvise.
Nick backed away from the arches at the edge of the corridor and, hugging the wall, moved as quietly as he could to the far end. There he found the entrance to the spiral stairwell and began to descend, placing each boot as precisely as possible to avoid making a sound. It took him nearly two full minutes to reach the bottom; he stood in the darkness and peered out. Saracen was still sitting in his chair, still facing the stairwell, talking to Victoria. Nick’s hearing had improved a little and he could make out a few of the words.
“Walker isn’t coming to save you,” Saracen was saying. “My men have him cornered at the entrance, and if they don’t kill him, he’ll be forced to surrender.”
“You don’t believe that,” Victoria replied. “If you did, I wouldn’t still be alive.”
“What are you talking about, Miss Cross? Of course you would. I told you this morning, I owe Walker your life. Once he’s out of my hair, I can let you go.”
“Oh, I see. You’re going to let me go, knowing full well that as soon as I get home, I’ll tell the U.F. Marshals exactly where to find you.”
