by Greg Rucka
“Today’s temps,” Beaumont told him after they’d finished the personnel review. “Six of them today, all of them cleared.”
Hayes clicked through the pictures on the monitors, the headshots and profile angles. A young redhead caught his eye, and he brought her picture up a second time.
“Who’s she?”
“Thiesen, Amanda,” Beaumont said. “Assigned to Legal for the day.”
“Easy on the eyes.”
“If you say so, sir.”
Hayes lingered over the images for a few seconds longer, then closed the set. “Let the checkpoint in Sub-Five know I’m on my way down.”
Beaumont turned, relaying the order to one of the officers on the corns desk, and Hayes left the command post, heading back to his office. He removed his coat and tie, hung them from the rack just inside the door. He didn’t need to bring them with him, and what he was planning on doing would only risk getting them dirtied.
He was at the elevator, waiting to ride the car down, when Beaumont radioed him on his subcutaneous.
“Sub-Five is offline,” Beaumont reported. “No response from any of the checkpoints, cameras are reading nonfunctional.”
“What the hell? What does that mean?”
“It means we’ve been breached, sir. Someone’s screwing with the internals.”
Hayes swore. “It’s not a system fault?”
“No sir, all the other systems are still in the green.”
Hayes swore again, louder. Son of a bitch, he thought. Carrington, you son of a bitch, you’ve come to steal my prize.
The elevator arrived, doors swishing apart to reveal a half dozen personnel on their descent from the upper floors. Hayes turned his cursing on them, reaching into the car and grabbing the nearest worker, a middle-aged man, by the necktie, yanking him out of the car.
“Out! Get out of the car!” he roared.
The car emptied.
“Dispatching Alpha and Beta response teams,” Beaumont told him. “They’ll meet you there.”
Hayes swiped his ID card through the reader on the elevator panel, jabbed his thumb into the recess that slid open above the top row of buttons. “You get those cameras back!”
“Trying, sir, but—”
“No! No trying, just get them back! And lock down the goddamn lobby! Nobody gets in or out of the building!” The elevator lurched, confirming his ID, and began to drop. “It’s a bust-out, you understand? There’s a CI strike team in our goddamn building, they’re trying to free their man!”
There was a momentary pause, and then Beaumont asked, “How did we miss them?”
“How the hell should I know? You’ve been sitting in front of the cameras!” Hayes kicked at the wall of the elevator, issuing a new string of curses. Somehow, a CI strike team had entered the building, had entered his building, and the thought of the violation enraged him. Never mind how they had done it, he was sure they had, and he could spit with the fury he was now feeling.
The elevator jerked to a sudden stop, knocking Hayes from his feet, and even with his chemically charged reflexes, he barely managed to protect his head from smacking the side of the car. There was a grinding noise from above, and all of the indicator lights on the elevator panel lit up as one.
“What the hell just happened?”
“Elevator just locked up.”
“Unlock it!”
“It can’t be a strike team, sir, that’s at least six men, we would have—”
“Unlock the fucking elevator!” Hayes screamed.
The lights on the indicator panel began winking on and off, as if mocking him. Hayes spun in a circle, realized there was nowhere for him to go, roared his frustration a second time. There was a maintenance hatch built into the ceiling of the car, but as a matter of security, it had been welded shut. He couldn’t remember if that had been his order or Beaumont’s.
“Come on, come on!”
“All of the elevators are offline, sir. We’re going to try to reset the system. You might want to hold on to something.”
Hayes grabbed the railing along the rear of the car, just as all power to the elevators went out. He heard metal groaning, and then the floor dropped out beneath him suddenly, only to jerk to a screeching stop again. The lights flickered back on, the indicator panel coming back to life.
“Try it again,” Beaumont told him.
Hayes rammed his card through the reader once more, again jabbed at the scanner with his thumb. The indicator for Sub-Five illuminated, and he felt the car once again resume its descent.
“Alpha should hit the checkpoint right behind you,” Beaumont told him.
“They see anyone who isn’t one of us, they shoot to kill, understood?”
“I need CEO authorization to issue that order, si—”
“Then stop talking to me and get it!”
Beaumont went mercifully silent, presumably attempting to contact his father. Hayes could only imagine what the response would be, and spared himself a second of blind, addicted panic at the thought of the punishment he would be facing if he couldn’t keep the unthinkable from happening. Then he calmed himself. The building was fifty stories tall, and in complete lockdown. It didn’t matter if there were six or ten or twelve of Carrington’s men here on their little rescue mission.
Not one of them was getting out alive.
CHAPTER 10
pharmaDyne corporate Headquarters—Cormox Street, Vancouver British Columbia September 28th, 2020
Able tried to get to his feet but his legs wouldn’t hold him, and Joanna had to catch him beneath the arms to keep him from falling. With all the care she could muster, she guided him back against the exam table, letting him use its surface for support.
“Are you going to be able to walk?” she asked him.
“I’m damn well going to try.” He gave her a weak smile, revealing broken teeth behind chapped and torn lips.
“Hold still for a moment, just get your breath. I’ll see if I can find you something to wear.”
Able nodded weakly, and Jo was unsure if he was agreeing with her suggestion that he take a moment or with her suggestion that he clothe himself. She had removed the latticework of wires from his skin before helping him to his feet, and the burns around his body seeped interstitial fluid, glistening in the harsh fluorescent lights. She took one of the MagSecs from behind her back, pressed the pistol’s handle into the man’s hands.
“You know how to shoot one of these?” she asked.
“Not well,” Able croaked.
“You don’t have to be good, just good enough.”
He made a small sound, the beginning of a hoarse laugh, which quickly transformed into an exhalation of pain.
“I’ll be right back,” she told him, and then, drawing the remaining MagSec, stepped back into the hall.
“You didn’t ask him.” Steinberg’s voice was still low, still measured, but there was a new frustration in it. “Pequod wants his answer.”
“Then Pequod can bloody well come down here and ask for himself,” Jo retorted, trotting back toward the security station. There had been no “Pequod” call sign allocated during the briefing, and she could only assume that it was now Carrington’s handle, and that he was actively monitoring the operation from London. “How’s our status?”
“Not good. Security just made Ishmael’s invasion, they’re sending a response team down. He’ll try to delay them, but you’ve got to get moving, and fast.”
She reached the downed guard and began stripping off his uniform, going after his jacket first. “Fast is not in this man’s vocabulary at the moment, Ahab.”
“He better learn it, then—”
Jo moved to the guard’s trousers, began yanking them free. When she answered Steinberg, she was speaking quickly, trying to keep the outrage from entering her voice, and failing.
“They tortured him, Ahab, do you understand? He’s suffering multiple burns, at least two fractured ribs, and I won’t hazard a guess as to
the breaks in his fingers and toes. They cut him, he has small lacerations along the insides of each of his arms and his legs. If he can run, it’ll be a miracle. It’s a wonder he can stand.”
Steinberg fell silent, and Jo took the moment to scoop up the clothes she’d stripped from the guard, then sprinted back to Able’s cell. The man was as she had left him, holding the MagSec in both his hands. She tossed the jacket and trousers so they landed beside him on the exam table.
“Get those on,” she said. “Fast as you can.”
Then she turned away, stepping back into the hallway, to watch the corridor. She’d half expected Steinberg to come back on the net, to hear his voice again rustling into her skull, but the radio silence continued. In the room behind her, she could hear Able struggling to get into the stolen clothes.
There was a whine from above her, in the corridor, and Jo snapped her head around and up, trying to locate the source as she moved back into the doorway of the cell. The surveillance cameras in the hallway had broken their pattern and were now tracking their arcs more quickly. She knew that whatever Grimshaw had done, pharmaDyne CORPSEC had just undone.
She brought her pistol up in both hands, firing twice, once at each of the cameras. Both shots hit clean, and she heard glass tinkling to the concrete floor, circuitry sizzling in protest. Behind her, Able stumbled, alarmed.
“What was that?” he asked.
“They know we’re here, Mister Able,” Jo said, as calmly as she could manage. “I must insist we get moving”
“Ready,” he told her, and she felt his presence at her elbow, confirming the fact. “Where’s the rest of the team?”
“I am the rest of the team, Mister Able.” Jo peered around the edge of the doorway, down the hall. The security checkpoint at the mouth of the hall was still clear. “Follow me, please.”
She moved as quickly as she dared to without losing Able, knowing that if—or rather, when—the shooting started, she would have to provide as much cover for him as she could manage. She still wasn’t hearing anything from Steinberg, and that was beginning to worry her. At the checkpoint, she moved her pistol from her right to her left, then reached beneath the console to the weapon rack and grabbed one of the CMP-150s seated there. She thumbed off the safety, and checking once more to see that Able was still limping along behind her, started forward again.
They passed through the sliding double doors, making toward the intersection, and Jo stopped short of the junction, putting her back to the wall. She could hear noises bouncing along the hallways now, the rattle of men and movement and weapons, and then she heard a shout. A burst of automatic-weapons fire exploded, echoing so loudly off the concrete she was unsure of its origin. She heard shouting, but couldn’t make out the words.
“That’s it for the drugspy,” Steinberg said. “Took two of them before they blew me to bits.”
“How many left?” she asked.
“You don’t want to know.”
“How many, Ahab?” Jo demanded.
“I count thirteen, and that’s just the two teams that they’ve sent down here already.”
“Please tell me that’s not the only elevator out from here.” When Steinberg didn’t immediately respond, she added, “That’s not the only way out of here.”
“We’re working on it.”
“Work faster,” Jo urged.
The sound of the security teams had faded, and she realized they had most likely switched to hand signals, entering a search pattern. She closed her eyes for a second, listening hard, and she could hear the rustling of fabric, the rasp of leather and ballistic mesh jackets, and the harsh clatter of bootfalls. The architecture played with the noises around her, made judging distance difficult, but there was no doubt in her mind that they were coming this way.
She leaned back, turning her head to speak into Able’s ear, whispering quickly. “I’m going to step out and lay down covering fire. As soon as I do that, move, quick as you can, to the right. Don’t stop until you’re around the corner, and don’t look back for me.”
Able nodded.
Jo drew a breath, steadying herself, willing her body to relax, and then shoved off the wall and out into the intersection, spinning to face the direction she had come from. There were four of them advancing cautiously on her position, all dressed in pharmaDyne colors with body armor and side arms and threat detectors and helmets, silvered shields pulled down over their faces. Each carried an assault rifle—the Dragon, manufactured by dataDyne, naturally—and something about that sang in Jo’s mind in the half instant it took for her to take in the whole scene.
Then she started firing, each weapon working a different task. The CMP was about suppression, and she lay down a blanket of fire with her right hand, round after round smashing into the concrete beside the lead guard. He recoiled, panicked and flailing, trying to bring his Dragon to bear, and it was just what Jo had wanted, because it meant he was blocking the rest of his team’s cone of fire.
With the MagSec, she began shooting out the lights, pitching the corridor into darkness.
Then the CMP went empty, and Jo twisted around the corner once more, back to the wall again, discarding the submachine gun and catching the MagSec in her newly freed hand. Able was disappearing around the far corner, and she hoped that, if any of the guards had actually seen his run, it would entice them to follow. She ejected the MagSec’s spent clip, fished a fresh one from her pocket, and slammed it home, working quickly. Her movements felt fluid, smooth, almost effortless, and she felt questions tickling at the back of her head again, pushed them aside, telling herself there would be time for them later.
With the MagSec reloaded, she quickly shot out the rest of the lights in the corridor, plunging the immediate area into darkness. Faint illumination spilled from the direction Able had run, but that was all now. With her back still against the wall, she sank low, to her haunches, then spun out again, coming up.
The lead had been closing on the intersection cautiously, trying to catch her unawares, his Dragon locked high against his shoulder. Jo came up inside his guard, driving the heavy barrel of the MagSec upwards, beneath the face-shield and into the man’s chin. She heard bone crack. Still moving, she swept her left arm over and then around his right, trapping the Dragon against her side. She drove her right knee into the guard’s groin, then spun back around the corner a second time, stripping the assault rifle from his grasp. She was out of the line of fire again before the guard hit the ground, groaning in incoherent pain.
Where is it? Where is it? she thought, tucking the MagSec into the front of her skirt, using both hands to search the assault rifle in the near darkness. Secondary mode, where’s the bloody secondary mode—
Her fingers brushed the stud, recessed at the front of the trigger guard, and she would have sighed with relief if she’d had the time. As it was, she simply pressed the button down as hard as she could, hearing it click into place and feeling the stock shiver slightly as the explosives placed within it were primed. Then she tossed the assault rifle back down the corridor in the direction of the oncoming assault team, and at the same time launched herself the opposite direction, after Able.
She heard shouting, one of them saying that they saw her, that they had a shot, and then there was another cry as the team’s threat detectors all began screaming in unison. She heard them trying to retreat, scrambling back the way they had come.
“It’s armed! The mine is armed!”
Then the Dragon’s proximity mine detonated, the concussion chasing after her down the narrow corridor, shoving her off her feet. Jo turned the fall into a slide, reached out with her free hand and managed enough purchase to swing around the corner, out of sight. She drew her MagSec, wondering if the assault team lead had survived the blast, thinking that she’d tried to throw the mine clear of him, that he’d been prone, that both of those things should have spared him.
Able was gaping at the sight of her.
“What’d you do?”
> “Made some noise,” she said. “The Dragon’s got an explosive built into the stock.”
Steinberg’s voice returned to her ear. “Smart girl. You’re in an east-west corridor, west is back the way you came. Head east, do it fast, they’re going to try to flank you.”
Jo started moving, motioning for Able to follow her. “Make my day, Ahab,” she told Steinberg.
“There’s a maintenance elevator seventy-three meters from your position, on the left. Ishmael’s sending it down to you now.”
“I could kiss you.”
“You two get out of there, I may hold you to it,” Steinberg told her.
Jo actually allowed herself a smile. With Able behind her, they jogged down the hallway. It had become quiet again, only the sound of their bare footfalls and Able’s pained breathing. Jo wasn’t even hearing the crackle of radio communications, but that didn’t mean much; if the assault teams were all on subcutaneous mikes, as she was, there’d be no telltale sound of transmission.
They reached another turn, and Jo motioned for Able to hold up before diving around the corner herself. She came up in a roll, the MagSec at the ready, fully expecting to meet resistance, and genuinely surprised to find no one there to block her progress. She regained her feet, started forward, and Able again fell in behind her.
“Twenty meters,” Steinberg told her. “Should arrive as you get there.”
They raced along the hallway, and Jo heard the hum of the lift as it began to settle on their floor, saw that it was as Steinberg had described, a service elevator rather than one for moving personnel. Jo switched positions with Able, putting him between her and the elevator doors, scanning back the way they had come. She was hearing voices again, and the heavy tread of boots as the flanking team broke into a run, trying to catch them. Behind her, the elevator had arrived, locking into position, and in her periphery, she saw the doors begin to open. Able started forward, and she half turned to follow him.
