I make eye contact with her and bark, "Please, keep up. I'm on a schedule." That ought to help our disguise hold up if anyone is monitoring us on cameras. I have to assume they are.
We round the corner, and ten feet beyond, just like we were told in Jason's briefing, there's a security checkpoint. This one still uses humans, though there’s also a metal detector and something mounted on the wall at eye level—a retinal scanner, probably. I hope my glamour enchantment will do the trick, but if not, the two guards should be easy to dispatch. They're only mortals, after all.
Both guards stand immediately, one facing a monitor and the other facing us. He says, "Miss Kirkpatrick, this is a surprise. My apologies, but I don't see you on the schedule today for a security update."
My pulse races. Although I've practiced the security expert's mannerisms, they don't come naturally. I fight the urge to take a deep breath, then flip my hair back over my right shoulder just like she would, letting out a light laugh. The voice that comes out of me is not my own. "Well of course it isn't. It's awfully hard to schedule an update for a new virus threat out in the wild. It was just discovered, but of course, I already have an update to hotfix it. I just need to install it."
"Ma'am, this is highly unorthodox. How did you get through the first checkpoint without a general alert?"
My rehearsed response rolls off my tongue. "Obviously, it's because they called someone above your pay grade to get authorization. Otherwise, you'd have that alert, right?" I give him my friendliest smile—turning my head to the left like Jennifer would—and continue, "But I seriously doubt you intend to question your superiors' judgment, so just between you and me, I won't report it."
His eyes go wide. "Yes, ma'am. Thank you. That explains your off-site escort." He nods toward Luka, who is wearing one of their security uniforms courtesy of one of the front desk's former guards. "If you would, please just step up to the retinal scanner. Standard procedure."
I resist the urge to gulp and step up toward the device, put my face up to the rubber mask, and stare at the green light within. Two seconds later, it beeps and a green bulb above it lights up.
"Thank you. Have a nice day, ma'am."
"Of course. I wouldn't want you to break protocol on my account." Then I remember that Jennifer wasn't the most polite person in the world, and I hastily add, "But don't let it happen again. If you see me, it's because I belong here. You think I want to spend my time down here? I do have other clients to attend to, and I don't enjoy being here after business hours."
"Yes ma'am." The guard steps aside and then stands stiffly at what I assume is some kind of position of attention, like in the military movies. He just looks stiff as a board, to me.
As I walk past him, I smile and brush my hand across his arm, hunting for information. My Gift doesn't disappoint, and a quick image flashes—the man dies in a hallway in some facility that looks exactly like this one. Two beams of light shoot out from the hallway's wall and ceiling, crisscrossing like scissors. In the background, the familiar alarm blares. When the two beams of light pass through him in only a moment, he collapses into four pieces, dead.
I try not to shutter at the gruesome image. At least now, we have some idea what might be in the unknown area between us and the lab... Such a trap is definitely not on the list Jason provided.
A few seconds later, we’re around the next corner and I can breathe a sigh of relief. I relay the vision to the team and Jason on my comm unit.
The hallway from my last vision stretches out before us. As we approach it, I slow my pace.
A whisper in my ear from invisible Glenn says, "Don't worry. I don't have any premonition in getting through this hallway. Unless we’re all about to die, we're fine to go ahead."
I suppose I would have a vision if we were all about to die here, but that only makes it moderately easier to take the next step, and then the next. I don't think I even breathe until we are all the way through the hallway and into the relative safety beyond.
On my comm unit, Jason says, "Up ahead, you'll find the lab. Using your GPS, we just filled in the gap on my crude map of the facility's layout, so take a left, then a right, skip four intersections. After that, the lab will be at the end of a hallway—but there is a security checkpoint just outside of it. If you can get through that, then you're ‘in like Flynn.’"
His cheerfulness does not make me feel better. I whisper a quick thank you and march onward with my ridiculous entourage stretching behind me.
Surprisingly, the last checkpoint is guarded by two Shades. Thankfully, they don't recognize Birka as their enemy queen from the last few decades. If the guards had been Wraiths, we would be in deep trouble. Over my protests, Meredith uses her Gift to subtly nudge the guards in the direction we want them to go. I suppose messing with their minds is better than the alternative of killing them, but I still don't like it.
In any case, it works and we're clear to waltz into the facility's lab sector. That doesn't mean we're through the maze yet, though—the lab isn't just one room, but a convoluted maze of rooms, laboratories, storage, and who knows what else. With Jason on the comm, though, navigating it proves easy enough.
We can't just check door to door, of course. The plan is to go into an unused lab, near a cluster of rooms where Talon must be held based on the log files for each lab's energy use. Then, we’ll utilize a secret escape route to gain access to those rooms one at a time. Whether Dawson was the only one who knew about the secret tunnel isn't clear, but now a bunch more people know about it, ha ha. Insert sarcastic laugh here.
Birka whispers behind me, "If you are quite done daydreaming, dear, we do have a mission to accomplish."
I know it isn't necessary to whisper here, but the utter silence aside from the faint click of our steps compels me to whisper, as well. "Sorry. Okay, Glenn, you're up."
"I'm ready, but I wish somebody else was doing this."
Luka snorts, the only one of us not to whisper. "Yeah, man, but you have the invisibility. And your Gift of precognition doesn't hurt, either."
After a deep breath, Glenn steps into Luka's interlocked hands and climbs up into the vents, leaving the rest of us to wait as patiently as we can manage.
Within ten minutes, he's back and visible, poking his head down from the ventilation system. "I found him. He shows up pretty clearly on these thermal goggles Jason gave us. Unless they have some other victim strapped into that machine they use, it has to be him."
By means of a couple rope ladders, we make our way up into the ventilation and move to the room, over which Glenn stops and gives us the thumbs-up. As the next in line, I get there before the others and peer down into the room. I don't see Talon or the machine, just a bunch of computers and gizmos and wires.
"Where is Talon?"
Glenn points to his left. "Out of view. I can see him through the thermal optics."
My heart is in my throat. I'm about to see Talon again for the first time in what seems like forever. As excited as I am, I also have to brace myself—I have no idea what shape he's in. I only know he's alive, still. "Is there anyone else in the room with him?"
Glenn shakes his head.
Over my comm unit, Jason says, "The guards are on a fifteen-minute rotation. According to their RFID sensor logs, the last time was just before Glenn arrived to scout the area. They'll be back in three minutes."
In my ear, Birka's voice crackles, "Then we wait. We waited this long. If we can get in and out without being detected, so much the better. I'd prefer not to have to fight our way out with Talon no doubt in a weakened condition."
No one argues. The next three minutes tick by slowly. Then, there's a beep as a door opens out of view from my position, and footsteps clack on the hard lab floor. Glenn holds up two fingers at me just as one passes below the vent. He's burly, but he's a mortal. He has a sidearm, but far more dangerous for us is the radio he wears. I have no doubt his first action would be to call for backup, should anything rouse his suspicion.
I hold my breath until he passes from view. Scouring the room thoroughly can't take them more than a minute, no longer how long it feels to me. Then, as quickly as they arrived, their footsteps recede and the door clangs open and shut, leaving silence behind.
Jason says, "Get ready to enter. Move out in three... Two... One... All clear. Go, go, go."
Glenn lets the vent lid drop and shoves a rope ladder over the ledge, but I simply drop down through it to the floor twelve feet below. I land with only a faint sound, thanks to my sneakers glamoured to look like sensible business shoes. The others are right behind me, using the rope ladder. Ironically, the ladder makes more sound than I did dropping through.
"Go left, and he should be around the corner."
"Thanks, Jason." Actually, Glenn pointed the direction earlier, and I'm already heading that way.
The room is huge. It's easily forty by forty feet, and the center of the room is occupied by a device I recognize—the "battery" for Dawson's power-draining machine—but this one is much larger than the one I saw before. It has a lot of buttons, screens, and other features I don't recognize, and it stretches from the floor to the ceiling.
My knees actually shake as I head around it—and there I see Talon. He dangles spread-eagled from complicated-looking computerized wrist cuffs, and his ankles are cuffed as well.
My very first thought is to wonder how the cuffs stay on him, because to me, he looks emaciated. Skin and bones. I've never seen him so scrawny. Every exposed inch of flesh looks like it's covered with bruises in various states of recovery, and the bile rises in the back of my throat as I realize they've been beating him. I'm sure it took more than one to get him to cooperate, and the hideous marks in green and purple and yellow bear witness to that.
His head dangles limp, his chin on his chest. Though he tries to raise his head at the sound of my steps, he can only lift it an inch before his whole body goes limp. His once-beautiful eyes roll up into the back of his head.
Jason says quietly, "I've hacked into his vitals monitoring machines, and he's in bad shape. Don't worry, though, he's alive, just unconscious. I doubt he can take much more of this, though."
Well, no kidding.
I feel a nudge on my elbow and glance over to see Birka beside me. She nods her head toward the machine, tears streaming down her face at the sight of her son. "Stop. Don't rush in. What are all those things attached to the containment unit?"
For the first time, I see more than just the cuffs and Talon himself, and Birka is right. If anything, she understated it. Wires and cables wrap around the containment unit, as well as many of the devices branching off it—wires that lead to bundles of what look like blobs of clay.
Birka takes out a spray can from her purse and shakes it, then sprays it heavily into the air. "Wait."
The faintly visible gas cloud expands toward Talon meter by meter. Once it reaches the platform the container sits on, it reveals dozens of thin red light beams crisscrossing all around it in a mesh pattern.
"What the hell?" I blink several times, knowing what it is already and willing it to be anything else. "Maybe we can work a way around."
Jason's voice abruptly roars in my ear startling me, and I see Ida and Birka jump as well, while Glenn puts his hands to his ears, though Luka seems unaffected. "Stop. Do not approach that. There are even pressure plates in the floor around him. I didn't see these before, but now that I'm inside, I've hacked into their Bluetooth and Wi-Fi. I can hardly believe how many booby-traps and failsafes are built around that thing. It's like they expected you to come and try to rescue him."
I take a step forward, but Birka firmly holds her arm out, pushing me back.
Jason whistles. I hear the tension in his voice when he says, "Dudes, you do not want to touch that thing. Trust me on this one."
I take a step to get around Birka, but then Jason's words penetrate my thick skull. Specifically, "booby-traps." I almost don't care what happens to me, but I do care what happens to Talon, stuck in there and surrounded by explosives.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath, trying to clear my head and let the adrenaline fade. "Fine. Jason, you're in their internal network. Can you disarm them?"
I hold my breath waiting for his answer.
Ten resounding heartbeats later, he comes through on the comm. "No. I'm sorry, but I can only access their monitoring signals. I can't even spoof those, it's all hardware based. You'll have to find another way to get him out."
Staring at that monstrous machine, helplessness washes over me, drowning me in my own failure. I see no way to save Talon.
Chapter 7
I walk up to Talon's container and simply stare at it. There are so many "attachments" on it that it's hard to focus on any one of them. It's overwhelming just to look at, especially since each one is different. In fact, the only one I can actually identify is a block of plastic, or at least that's what I assume it is—it has two wires going into it, at the end of which are thin metal cylinders or probes.
I turn to look at the others, my eyes stinging as they well over, but I'm heedless of tears that begin to trickle down my cheeks. "Can any of you do anything? Please, I... We can't just leave him here. Not like this."
Ida takes a step closer to the cylinder, her eyes clicking from one attached device to the next. "Actually, I'm very well versed in traps and explosives. Let me see what we are dealing with, here..."
I step back to let her look them over and watch her with desperation, my hands clenching and unclenching at my sides with nervous energy as she mutters, "Mmm hmm," and "Ah," and "Oh, I see."
The wait is unbearable, yet I have little choice but to stand idly by, helpless to do anything to save one of the only two men I've ever loved. I swallow hard, my throat dry, as my heart pounds in my ears. Please, let there be something she can do.
When she finally turns to me, the look on her face tells me everything before she does. "I'm sorry. This is too complicated, even for me. There are optical trips, mercury switches, seismic triggers... But the worst part is that each one is broadcasting its status, and I bet Talon's life that these traps are set to go if any one of them stops broadcasting."
"How can you be sure? You can't know that," I half-shout, desperate.
The look of pity that crosses her face makes me want to smash her teeth in, but it's not her fault, and I shouldn't be angry at her for sympathizing. And yet, I am.
"That's easy,” she replies. “Every trap is connected to the building's power supply, but they each have multiple battery backups. They wouldn't do that unless they felt it's really important that the signals never be interrupted, none of them. Do you understand?"
I understand. There's nothing she can do. So much for her expertise. As far as Talon is concerned, Ida turns out to be worth as much as Jason.
I shake my head, trying to clear out a dozen uncharitable thoughts that neither of them have earned. "I'm sorry. I'm angry, but I know it's not your fault. Okay, who has any—"
Jason's shouting voice screeches from every headset at once, "Code red, code red! Three seconds."
I waste one of those seconds trying to remember what "code red" means as everyone else dives for cover. Crap—company's coming. I blink a few times and look around, dazed. It's like looking at a snow-covered field, where all the details just blend into each other.
Strong hands clamp onto my arms like vices and shove me hard. I hit a wall and start to cry out, but one of those strong hands clamps firmly over my mouth. My anger vanishes as I try to comprehend what I see, but then my thoughts catch up to what's going on. Glenn—he's invisible again, and he just saved me.
Hot breath on my ear accompanies Glenn's harsh whisper, "Shut the hell up and don't move."
A clank and a beep come from the other side of the room, then the faint creak of a door opening. Slow, almost casual footsteps fill the room. There's more than one of them, and they aren't talking as they come in, so I doubt they're some lab tech come to get something h
e left on the desk.
The click of boots on tile flooring grows louder with each step. I'm not well hidden, as I had no time to find a better hiding spot. A few more steps and they'll spot me. I subvocalize into my comm, "Jason, you block the radios?"
"Negative," comes the simple, one-word reply.
My hands tense on my dagger hilts. Maybe I can get them before they can raise the alarm. My hands are sweaty on my daggers. What an odd thing to notice at a time like this. I blink and tense.
Abruptly, the footsteps stop. My heart is pounding. One more pace will expose one of them—and me. I force myself to take a breath and stop holding it.
A woman's voice from a little farther back calls out, "Fritz, what the hell are you doing? Steal lab supplies on your own time. We got orders."
"Dammit, Jan." The man's reply is so close that, if it weren't for the equipment standing between me and him, I could probably feel his breath. "You know I got three kids to feed. Fine, I guess you're right. How much time we got to get this Wraith scum to Lab-A?"
His footsteps recede as he talks, as does my adrenaline. But as I hear the sounds of metal striking metal and shifting doodads and gizmos, the guard's words register at last. They are moving Talon, and we have no idea where they're taking him. This Lab-A could be a different room, or it could be a different facility—we have no way of knowing.
Two sets of footsteps softly ring, but this time, they’re accompanied by the scuffing sound of something being dragged.
Meredith's voice comes faintly through my comm unit. "Jason, you better have figured out how to block their radios. Take out the repeater, do something. They're taking Talon somewhere else."
"I heard. Negative on the radios. I'm working on it, but you're going to have to take them out ninja-style if you want to avoid the alarm, and you better do it quick. You can't have your whole mob following those guards, or you'll get spotted."
I glance at Luka, the best warrior we have with us at the moment. His face is ashen, the skin sagging. He looks half dead already, and for a moment, my concern for Talon is forgotten. But only for a moment. "Luka, what the hell, man? You aren’t going to die on us, are you?"
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