“We need her alive,” McGill emphasized, laying a comradely hand on my shoulder. “She knows what the humans are up to. We need to know everything she knows. Actually, this should be fun. For both of us.”
I studied the imager for a few seconds longer. The plant’s entrances were sealed, but there was a row of grimy industrial windows about twenty feet above the ground. That’s where I planned to go. I was starting to see a chance of how I might succeed-by failing.
I took one last close-up look at Lucy’s face, then I set off, ostensibly to capture or kill her.
Chapter 85
Minutes later, I was crouched down at the border of the dark wasteland. I had a stun-gun carbine in my hand and was tensing my legs for a sprint to the filtration plant where the Agency had isolated Lucy-I was the point man in her capture. I sucked in one more deep, measured breath. Then I jumped forward, racing in long, springing strides.
I lunged straight up as I reached the building’s granite walls, catching the ledge below a window with my free hand, throwing the carbine to my shoulder with the other.
This was it, life or death. For me, and for Lucy.
I rammed the rifle barrel through the window and aimed. Right now, this instant, I had to be the best marksman I could imagine.
Very slowly, I squeezed the trigger.
Shot of my life.
And Lucy’s too.
Lucy and her men spun around toward the shattering glass. I had fired the most deliberate and careful shot-three inches off her left shoulder.
The stun blast cracked with a flash like a lightning bolt, and Lucy went reeling. But she stayed on her feet. I figured that she would.
So far, so good.
But then they didn’t run for the tunnels. The three of them stumbled away in the wrong direction-farther into the plant. What was she doing? This made no sense.
Maybe I’d cut the shot too close, jolted her completely out of her senses?
I swung myself boots-first through the window and dropped in a driving rain of glass to the floor below. I needed to save Lucy, somehow-with McGill watching my every move.
Chapter 86
She was sealing her own doom though, fleeing even deeper into the plant instead of using the escape route. And she was moving faster now too, disappearing in the dark maze of machinery, pipes, and catwalks, then reappearing for a glimpse, then disappearing again. But why go back into the building?
If I tried to chase her, I’d never catch her in time. McGill and the others would get to her for sure.
So I threw the rifle onto my shoulder again. Another near-impossible shot was needed. Could I do it twice in a row? I had to.
Very slowly-now squeeze, Hays.
The flashing stun jolt slammed Lucy to the floor. She was definitely down, but was she out, unconscious? Or had I just killed her?
I lunged forward to scoop her up and race back toward the tunnels and the way out. The Elite air-assault units were directly overhead now-I only had a minute or two left before they arrived.
Whoom! A megaforce laser blast hit the plant’s roof, vaporizing at least a forty-foot section. That showed it wasn’t a good idea to wage war against the Elites.
The pulsing lights of Agency aircraft appeared directly above the hole, then black-uniformed commandos came leaping through it and into the building.
I had messed up and it was going to cost Lucy. Now there was only a single option to keep Moore and McGill from getting their hands on her.
I dropped to my knees beside Lucy. Her face was turned toward me, her cheek resting on the cold concrete. Her eyes were barely open, but I could tell she could see me. “Lucy.”
I drew my laser pistol and took a very deep breath. I had to kill her!
“Stop.” Her mouth hardly moved and her voice was as faint as a sigh. But there was no mistaking the tone of command in her next few words. “Ruthless. Remember, Hays?”
I needed her to understand something. “They’re going to kill you by inches! It’s called a slow death. It’s excruciating.”
Damned if her lips didn’t curl into the faintest trace of a smile. A smile? Now?
“That’s what they want you to think,” she whispered. “When I give you a cue-take it.”
There was no time for more words between us, not even a good-bye. The Elite commandos were all over the catwalk above us, starting to rappel down.
I still could have killed Lucy, and then myself, but I didn’t do it.
I was clinging to her words. When I give you a cue-take it!
Whatever that was supposed to mean.
Chapter 87
McGill didn’t waste any time getting right in my face. My old buddy and partner was a distant memory, and an illusory one at that. This two-faced bastard was no friend of mine.
“That first shot was sloppy, Hays,” he said. “Not like you. Are you losing it?”
“Hanging by one hand, with a second to aim and shoot?” I snapped back. “Next time, you take the shot, good buddy. I’ll be the critic on the sidelines!”
Suddenly, his mask of camaraderie flashed. “Hey, take it easy,” he said. “I’m just saying-maybe you’re not as steady as you thought you were.”
I nodded. “You’re probably right, partner.” Then I turned away quickly, before he could see my sneer. No, make that my hatred of him.
I began to walk to my car, gripped by the fact that I was abandoning Lucy to slow death. The torture was a perversion of regeneration therapy. The victim’s body was permeated by an electromagnetic field that sent impulses to specific areas, thousands of them per minute. But instead of healing, the impulses attacked nerve clusters with violent shocks. It was like having a white-hot probe moving inside the body, with the victim never knowing where it would stab and wound next-only that it would.
The agony could go on for weeks, and with someone as strong and determined as Lucy, it probably would. What made it even worse-Lizbeth had managed the team that perfected the torture machine. My sweet little Jinx.
Chapter 88
McGill was first up with Lucy in the interrogation room, which worried me. Usually I was first. What was going on? What did it mean for Lucy?
“I’m sure you aren’t very bright, but you must understand that you’re going to talk anyway. Why not spare yourself the hours of unnecessary torture?” he asked her, for starters.
Lucy glanced at McGill like she was looking at a slug eating garbage. She still hadn’t said word one to him. In fact, she barely looked at him.
Which was amazing considering that she’d been hanging in the interrogation room for half an hour now, with the vicious slow death probe searing her flesh. So far, she hadn’t made a sound. No moans or screams, and no answer to any of McGill’s questions.
I had never seen anyone, male or female, handle the torture like this. Usually, the subject was screaming within seconds, often begging for death.
McGill looked over at Moore, who was standing behind Lucy, where she couldn’t see him. Moore eventually raised a thumb, signaling McGill to up the dosage.
“OK,” McGill said to her with a shrug. “You leave me no choice.”
He stalked to the control panel and adjusted a setting. The next shock racked Lucy’s body and contorted her face, yanking her lips back from her teeth.
Moore stepped in front of her then-and he gently touched her cheek.
“You’re the toughest subject I’ve ever seen, Lucy,” he said soothingly. “I admire that, I do. But you will end up telling us everything, and you know it. Just be reasonable. I’ll make it easy on you. If you talk, we will kill you instantly.”
Finally, she broke her silence, forcing out the next few words in a hoarse whisper. “I’ll talk… to you… but alone. Get those other pigs… out of here.” Her glare turned to McGill and then to me. “I’ll talk to Jax Moore. Not to either of you morons.”
My scalp prickled. Was this the cue? It had to be. But what did it mean? What did Lucy want me to do now? Stay? Fight? Go
away?
I had no idea.
I was back on the edge of doubt again, and it was pure hell. Did she want me to kill her now?
“Of course,” Moore said. “I absolutely understand why you would feel that way.” He motioned us toward the door. “Both of you-go.”
“Get out of here, pigs!” Lucy screamed.
As McGill and I walked out, I scanned her face, desperate for any sign that I was reading her right. Maybe I only imagined it-but I thought I saw the trace of a smile.
Chapter 89
McGill was waiting for me at the end of the hallway. His round pie face held a satisfied smile. “He’ll close on her-Moore’s the master at it. He’ll be lighting up one of his victory cigars any minute. That human bitch doesn’t stand a chance.”
“No, I’m sure she doesn’t,” I said. I was almost shaking with tension. More and more I was feeling that I couldn’t leave Lucy in there with Jax. He had all the tools of torture ever devised, and-
My head whipped as a shrill screeching noise came from the interrogation room. It didn’t sound human.
Or Elite.
“What the hell was that?” McGill turned to me.
“I have no idea.”
Then I saw a flash of light-Moore’s victory cigar?
And then we both heard a terrible explosion.
By the time McGill and I got back to the room, the walls and door-all made of superstrong alloy-were shimmering with heat and spewing smoke. A thermal bomb had exploded inside-had to be. But how had it gotten in there? Certainly Lucy had been searched. Had Moore’s cigar set it off?
Security guards were racing down the hall, a half dozen of them, blasters at the ready. Within seconds, they had blown open the door. Smoke and steam escaped in a searing hot fog that drove all of us back down the hallway.
“Jax Moore is dead,” McGill proclaimed. “They both are. Blown to cinders.”
When the smoke cleared, I stared at the disaster inside. My heart sank. The heat had been so intense that the floor, walls, and ceiling had melted half away. Everything inside had been incinerated to blackish dust and spatters of liquefied metal. Everything.
Including Jax Moore.
Worst of all was the empty space where Lucy had been hanging. Not a trace of her was left. She must have had the bomb inside her body-sacrificed herself. That had been her plan from the start, hadn’t it?
To kill Jax Moore right here at Agency Headquarters; to send a warning to all Elites.
And I had been Lucy’s unwitting accomplice. I’d done this, hadn’t I?
I had captured and brought her here to die.
Chapter 90
President Hughes Jacklin glared at us with obvious High Elite rage via hologram from his penthouse-which, right now, was floating somewhere above New Lake City. The luxurious six-room penthouse was actually an aircraft that took off from the roof of the presidential mansion on ceremonial occasions. It cruised the skies as a dazzling and, frankly, obnoxious reminder of Elite power and arrogance and control.
“Moore was killed by a human terrorist?” Jacklin said angrily. “Right there inside Agency Headquarters?” Standing behind the president was-as usual-the huge bodyguard Devlin, who looked nearly as pissed as his boss.
“I’m afraid so, sir,” McGill said, hunching his burly shoulders like a schoolboy getting a scolding from the headmaster. What a toad he was; what a dangerous toad though.
I waited tensely, expecting Jacklin to demand a full account-from me-and raise the legitimate question of why Lucy had let me escape. It certainly wasn’t lost on Lizbeth and McGill. I had already been interrogated on the matter-twice.
But right now the president seemed more annoyed at being interrupted than upset by the news of the Agency head’s death. He had a much more important subject on his mind-7-4 Day.
“It was Moore’s job to keep those despicable bastards down,” he growled. “If he wasn’t dead, I’d fire him. This attack shows unthinkable weakness and vulnerability, at the worst possible time.”
He glanced over his shoulder into a large reception room, where a 7–4 Day meeting was in progress. His chief advisers were present. I recognized guests who were among the world’s most influential Elites, dignitaries and military leaders I had rubbed elbows with in the past.
Whatever was going on at the high-level meeting, President Jacklin obviously wanted to get back to it. The other leaders were busily placing differently colored markers on a large table that held a map of the world.
“All right, keep the Agency bombing quiet for now,” he said. “These next few days are going to be insane enough without that kind of news leaking out. We’ll sort out the details later. You haven’t heard the last about this from me.”
“Sir, I’m afraid the Agency of Change is going to need an acting chief,” Lizbeth interjected smoothly. “If I might make a recommendation-I don’t believe you could do better than Senior Agent McGill. He wasn’t responsible for the bombing, but he’s held everything together since then.”
McGill? I almost choked! He was definitely mean enough, but he had nowhere near the level of sophistication to supervise the organization. Even though I would have been a stronger choice, Lizbeth acted like I wasn’t even there. So what did that tell me about my wife?
The president nodded impatiently-he had other things on his mind. Like the imminent extermination of every human on the earth.
“Recommendation accepted,” he said. “On a temporary basis. Just make damned sure you do a better job than your predecessor. Now do your job!”
“Yes, sir!” McGill said, saluting. The gesture in itself made me gag.
The hologram faded with the president striding away to rejoin his scary conspirators. By now, I’d realized what the subject must be. The top Elites were dividing up the human world, country by country. Those bastards were getting ready to take over the vast sections of the earth that would soon be deserted.
Lizbeth turned to me. Was that a tear I saw in her eye? God, she was good! “You do understand why I couldn’t recommend you, don’t you, Hays?” she said. “You’re my husband. It wouldn’t have been right.”
“Besides, you’re too valuable in the field,” McGill added. “You know that, Hays. And you’ve been injured recently. You understand?”
I understood, all right, but I had to keep pushing on with the charade.
“Don’t worry, the Agency job’s the last thing in the world I’d want,” I said. Then I started toward the door. “I’m going home to get some rest. I need to recharge. The big day is almost here. I’m sure it will be worth the wait.”
I could feel the two of them hesitate-they wanted to keep tabs on me. But they were also wrapped up in their newfound power, and what it would mean for them once the humans were eliminated. Every high-ranking Elite would become more powerful, and probably wealthy beyond imagining.
“You’ve earned it, darling,” Lizbeth finally said. “Wait home for me, OK? I won’t be long.”
Once outside the Agency building, I jumped in my car and sped straight across the city-to the human slums.
Go home, like hell.
Chapter 91
An hour later, no more than that, McGill strode in a quiet rage along a dark, littered alley that led into a crosshatching of even more dark, littered alleyways. He was headed toward a gutted old warehouse at the far end. It was home to a collection of humans, the kind of scum who’d never had much luck to begin with. Well, now their luck was all gone.
“Don’t come any closer-this is a warning!” a sentry, a boy, called from the shadows. The human guard was apparently used to dealing with the slum’s sneaky thieves and manic Ghools-not a huge policeman suddenly charging at him like 270 pounds of battering ram.
McGill stopped short of a collision-and then shot the human dead. He picked up the worthless boy and hurled him tumbling into the gloomy mist beyond the warehouse.
“This is the Agency of Change!” McGill roared. “Get out here now! Line yourselves up
against the wall! This is the Agency of Change. You will obey me or die! I’m Owen McGill. Heard of me, skunks?”
As the frightened residents began to appear, McGill fingered the trigger of his laser pistol. God, how he hated these humans. An hour ago, he’d been on top of the world-the temporary chief of the Agency, with Lizbeth almost in his arms. Then it all blew up-because of that sonofabitch Hays Baker! That bloody traitor! That human!
McGill had watched Hays leave headquarters, just in case he did anything criminal or suspicious. And he sure as hell did.
Instead of going home like he’d said he would, he sped off toward these very slums. He’d lied, and no doubt that meant he’d been lying all along. He had made a fool of McGill, even as he stood by silently, allowing McGill to take Jax Moore’s job as head of the Agency.
There was only one way to solve the problem, and this was it, a job only he could do: find Hays Baker, and kill him.
“You stupid people sheltered an escaped convict-that’s punishable by death, and I’m the delivery man,” McGill snapped at the cowering humans. “But I’m going to give you one last chance at survival. I happen to know he’s around here now. His name is Hays Baker. Heard of him? Well, where the hell is he? Anybody?”
McGill turned his most baleful glare on a young woman in rags, holding a baby tight to her breast. She seemed the weakest and most vulnerable of this pitiful lot.
“Come on, honey. Who’s more important-your wee child there, or some stranger who’s actually a spy?”
A gray-haired woman-the oldest, and one who didn’t seem the least bit afraid of him-stepped forward to face McGill.
“She’s not covering for anybody-none of us are,” the old bag said. “We didn’t know who he was when he was here-and we haven’t seen him since. I swear before God.”
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