Hard Wired

by C. Ryan Bymaster

  “I never counted on them coming in with us in the first place,” Dent said. “Now, it’s just official.”

  “What if we were to just shut the power down?” Bobseyn asked from the other side of the statue.

  “I’ve checked public records before coming. Building like this will have its own backup generators. Probably enough fuel to last for months.”

  “Crash the computers controlling the eField, then?”

  That was probably the best option, Dent thought. But his idea of crashing the computers probably differed from what the sheriff meant.

  “Let’s move,” Dent said after Bobseyn pocketed his EB.

  “I’m in the lead,” came Bobseyn’s reply.

  Dent knew why the man wanted to lead. “As long as you stay out of my way, Bobseyn.”

  The sheriff gave a snorting sound as he stepped lightly toward the door. As he put his back against the wall just to the side of the door, Dent wondered why the sheriff’s chest was rising and falling rapidly, like he had just sprinted across the room.

  XLII

  Kasumi was pushed into a big sofa chair and told to stay put. Cat-man, the one Mills called Keeper One, stood on one side of her chair while Mills stood closer to the door she’d been forced through. All three had their eyes on the big screen mounted on the wall above a colorful fish aquarium. Kasumi felt bad and jealous at the same time for the dozens of small fish trapped in their glass cage¸ unaware of what the real world was like.

  Six different camera feeds split the screen in front of her, and two in particular made Kasumi’s pulse race.

  On one she watched as Dent and Sheriff Bobseyn circled around the big hand-and-globe statue in the red-walled lobby. Both were moving like they’d been hurt and when the camera caught the left side of the sheriff’s face, she saw his eye was purpling and looked like it hurt him just to keep it open.

  Another camera feed showed the outer office to Jeffery’s lair, just on the other side of the door leading to the lobby Dent and Bobseyn were in. Three armed men were situated around the office, guns trained on the door, like they were waiting for Dent and Bobseyn to step through.

  Her chest tightened and her throat threatened to do the same. For all his uptightness, the sheriff was a good guy. And she was the reason he was here. He was risking his life because of her. She hadn’t realized she’d started to stand up until Cat-man gripped her shoulder and pushed her back down into the plush cushions.

  She glared up at him.

  He gave her a smile that was all teeth, no lips. She saw his fingers twitch when he put his hand back at his side, like he wanted to take a swipe at her. And unlike Mills — who kept a careful eye on both Kasumi and Cat-man — she got the definite feeling that Cat-man was the type of guy to delight in beating up someone smaller than himself.

  “We’re getting to the good part,” Cat-man said, jutting his head in the direction of the screen. Cat-man tapped an EB he had strapped to his right forearm and the big screen on the wall went from showing six different camera feeds to four: lobby with Dent and Bobseyn, office with three gunmen, and two hallways, each with one gunman creeping forward, presumably toward the lobby.

  “You know,” Cat-man said teasingly, “Jeffery wanted you both alive. Wanted to get some answers out of you. I wonder if that will be a possibility now.”

  The anger that was burning out of her was so strong that she couldn’t understand how the man was still unaffected. She made sure he was looking as she flipped him off before she turned to watch Dent on the screen.

  Dent, a long scratch down the side of his neck and small gash on his forehead, looked over to Sheriff Bobseyn as the man looked down and checked something — she couldn’t tell what from the bad camera angle — and the two started talking. They were completely oblivious to the men on the other side of the door and the other two coming in at them from the hallways.

  At her side, Cat-man spoke, and it took her a second to realize it wasn’t to her. “This is Keeper One. Eight East, Eight West, I want you two to fall back.”

  On screen, the men in the hallways stopped in their tracks. Kasumi’s hopes flared.

  “Let them make it to the outer offices.” Cat-man looked down at her, finger to his left ear. “Let them gain some confidence before we take them out. I need to teach someone here a lesson.” There was a series of buzzed replies and then he said, “You have a go on lethal action. On both targets. But remember, Dent is the priority, he’s the main target.”

  Kasumi screamed, “I thought you wanted him alive!”

  Cat-man’s hand dropped back down to his side. “We wanted you alive. Dent, we wanted for questioning. But, as you can see, he’s become too much of a problem. Besides, we can get the information we need out of you just as easy.” His gaze flicked to the screen. “Easier, I’d wager. No, I think it’s too risky to keep Dent alive at this point.”

  In a flash, Kasumi was over the side of the chair, her nails raking across Cat-man’s jaw. He backhanded her, but not before she knocked the small device with the blue LED out of his ear.

  She fell back into the chair and watched as Cat-man’s face melted into something frightening. His upper lip raised, his cheeks went red, and his eyes became daggers. His breath hissed in and out of his clenched teeth and Kasumi tried to sink as far into the chair as she could, her anger slowly giving way to terror. Cat-man raised a hand as if to strike her while his other hand went to the gun strapped to his thigh.

  There came a sudden rush of wind as Mills threw himself between Cat-man and Kasumi.

  “Get a hold of yourself, sir!” Mills cried out, putting a hand on the other man’s chest while at the same time pushing Kasumi down by the shoulder.

  “Let him go,” Kasumi said to Mills, practically daring Cat-man to attack her. “Big man wants to hurt a little girl? I won’t give in so easy, you—”

  “Shut it!” Mills shot her way before he turned to his boss and said, “She knocked your eBlocker free, sir. You need to get it back on.”

  For a tense moment, Kasumi thought Cat-man was going to draw his gun and shoot both her and Mills, but he finally muttered something under his breath and bent down to snag the device from the floor.

  Settling it back in his ear and tapping it until the blue LED flashed back on, Cat-man looked past Mills to Kasumi and, in a voice barely louder than a whisper but deeper than a jet engine, said, “Do that again and I don’t care if Mills is here or not ….”

  He let the threat hang in the air.

  She caught it loud and clear.

  “Sir …,” Mills said quietly.

  Shrugging the other man off of himself, Cat-man said, “I’m fine, Mills. It was her. Her damned emotions playing with my mind.”

  “I’m sure it was, sir,” Mills replied, though his voice cracked just enough to let the true opinion of his assessment escape.

  Mills retreated, but not all the way to the door like he’d originally been standing. This time he planted himself just on the other side of Kasumi’s chair.

  Cat-man adjusted his vest and avoided looking down at Kasumi, fixing his glare on the screen. Dent and Bobseyn had their backs to the wall next to the door now.

  Cat-man tapped his ear. “This is Keeper One. Scratch that last order. If the chance presents itself, I want you to cripple Dent. No head or body shots. Keep him alive long enough for me to pay him a visit.” His voice was pure venom.

  Kasumi shook her head, wiped her eyes. “You bastard,” she said.

  “There’s more than one way to teach you a lesson for your actions,” he snarled.

  No, no, no. She’d pissed this psycho off and now he was going to make Dent suffer because of it. She felt her breaths coming quicker and quicker, matching her racing heart. She looked to the screen, saw Dent and the sheriff oblivious to what awaited them.

  She knew that through the door ahead of them were Cat-man’s men, ready to gun them down.

  Her nails dug into her palms and beads of sweat ran down her back.
She had to get free, had to warn Dent. If he died trying to save her ….

  She lunged off the chair.

  Not at Cat-man, but at Mills. Her shoulder slammed into his chest, knocking him back, giving her enough room to land on the carpet and reach up and yank the eBlocker from his ear. Even as Cat-man spun their way, Kasumi ducked behind Mills and used his body as a shield.

  Mills frantically reached for his eBlocker, but Kasumi pulled away from him, sending out as much panic as she could into the room, into the now-unprotected man in front of her.

  Mills’s eyes began to practically shake in their sockets as he kept trying to grab his stolen eBlocker. His movements started to become jerky and uncoordinated. She could see his lips moving as he mumbled to himself and a lone tear fell down his cheek.

  “I will shoot you!” Cat-man threatened as he came around the chair.

  “You can’t kill me!” she shouted right back, narrowly avoiding a sudden lunge from Mills.

  Cat-man raised his gun. “I can shoot you without killing you, girl.”

  She dodged behind the panicky Mills, keeping his body between herself and Cat-man’s gun. Like a wild monkey, Mills kept going for his eBlocker, but Kasumi was always a second ahead of him.

  She wished she could find a way to make Mills protect her, but the panic she felt was too powerful, too deep-seated to be pushed down. Besides that, she had no idea how to even evoke an emotion that would convince Mills to protect her, to want to protect her.

  “Get out of the way, Mills,” Cat-man ordered.

  “Sh-she’s got my eBlocker, sir,” Mills managed to stammer out.

  “No shit. And you’re in my shot.”

  “But, s-sir, she’s got my—”

  A single shot echoed throughout the room and Kasumi fell to the floor, throwing her arms over her head. Her eardrums went numb, and everything suddenly sounded like she was under a hundred feet of water.

  She felt heavy steps approach her and when she spread her elbows and peeked through, she could see Mills lying on the carpet, facing her. His lips were no longer moving and his eyes had gone still. Yet those eyes still managed stare at her accusingly.

  A pair of black boots blocked her field of vision and she was yanked up by the scruff of her neck. Cat-man roughly set her on her feet. When her knees began to give out, he grabbed her shoulders and leaned in close, so close that she could smell the sourness of his breath.

  “I liked Mills,” he hissed. “And you just killed him.”

  She shook her head, unable to speak.

  “Come on,” he ordered her, as he pulled through the door. “You want to play at being a tough girl? Let’s see just how tough you can be.”

  She was dragged as much as she walked behind Cat-man, as he led her through the blood-red rooms and hallways.

  She knew where they were going.

  With everything she had, she cried out in her mind for Dent. A warning, a primal urge for him to be careful. She let that cry build up and then pushed that one emotion out as far as she could.

  XLIII

  Dent looked over at Bobseyn on the other side of the door. “Are you up for this?” he asked.

  “I don’t see anyone else here backing you up.”

  If that were Fifth talking, Dent would have called Bobseyn’s tone of voice sarcastic. It seemed to be the girl’s favorite tone, and one to which Dent was becoming more adept at picking up.

  “Go for the kill shot, Bobseyn. No hesitation.”

  “You mean no mercy.”

  “I mean I don’t want a bullet in me because you couldn’t—”

  “I got it, Dent,” Bobseyn growled. “You forget I’m here to get my daughter out.”

  As long as that goal coincided with Dent’s, then things would work out. If not, well, Dent would play that scenario out when it came. He gave the sheriff a go-ahead nod.

  The sheriff’s right hand visibly tightened and relaxed as he adjusted the grip on his gun. He brought his free arm across his body, his hand slowly reaching for the handle of the door.

  Suddenly Dent went on high alert. Maybe it was something he caught in the background, some noise that filtered through to his subconscious. Maybe it was dumb luck. Whatever it was, it had likely saved his life. Just as Bobseyn’s hand touched the door handle, Dent snapped his own hand forward. He gripped the sheriff’s forearm and dove to the carpet, yanking the man down beside him.

  Whatever curses poured from Bobseyn’s mouth were lost as multiple shots tore through the lower half of the door. Right where Dent and Bobseyn had been positioned.

  No words of encouragement were needed as Dent rolled away from the door and came up in a run, throwing himself behind the wooden statue in the middle of the lobby. Bobseyn was a heartbeat or two behind.

  Backs pressed to the marble pedestal, shoulder inches apart, both men attempted to make themselves as small as possible.

  “How the hell did you know?” Bobseyn got out between breaths.

  How does one explain something that is unexplainable?

  “I had … a feeling,” Dent said.

  Bobseyn gave Dent a blank look. “Whatever it was, thanks. Consider us even.”

  “I wasn’t aware we were keeping count.”

  “Apparently not.” Bobseyn cocked his head, listening for movement behind the bullet-riddled door.

  Dent listened as well, unable to pick out anything significant. That meant the gunmen were likely still in the other room, weapons no doubt pointed at the entrance. Getting in was going to be problematic.

  “Bobseyn?”

  “Yeah?”

  “You still want to take the lead?”

  The sheriff glanced over, looked like he was going to speak, and instead just shook his head.

  So much for that idea.

  Before Dent could suggest that the other man had an obligation as an officer of the law to be the first man through that door, Bobseyn audibly sucked in his breath and whipped his gun up and around, aiming for Dent’s right temple.

  A split-second decision froze time for Dent. Either Bobseyn earnestly didn’t want to be the first body through that door or …

  Dent leaned forward, brought his own gun up and around, and both men fired nearly simultaneously. The concussions and muzzle flashes wreaked havoc on both their senses. The bullets they fired across each other into the east and west hallways wreaked havoc on the skulls of the armed men attempting to flank them.

  When Dent could hear more than the air rushing in and out of his lungs, he figured he should probably thank Bobseyn for saving his life.

  “We’re still even,” he said.

  Voice muffled by his arm as he wiped at his eyes, Bobseyn returned, “I stopped counting.” He let his arm drop and added, “Unless you want to go first.”

  Dent couldn’t determine if the last was a statement or a question. Either way, he didn’t bother answering. They needed to get moving before any other gunmen made an appearance. A quick assessment of the situation and Dent came up with something plausible. He slapped the base of the marble pedestal on which the wooden statue was set upon.

  “How heavy do you suppose this thing is?” he asked.

  Smiling, Bobseyn leaned to the side, holstered his weapon, and then spit into his palms. “Let’s do it.” Apparently he was quick to understanding.

  The two turned, went to a one-kneed crouch, and reached up to grab hold of the statue. Dent had a solid grip on the base of the thumb, Bobseyn had the little finger. On a three count followed by heavy grunts, the statue lifted away from the pedestal, and the two started forward.

  Within a few steps, Dent’s thighs and back were already beginning to strain and he felt Bobseyn’s side dip, but somehow they managed to gather speed. Halfway there, like a train that had crested a hill, they gained momentum. Six feet, then four. Just after three feet from the door, they heaved, sending the large hand crashing through. The door was no match as it came off its hinges and flew inward, the statue tumbling after. More tha
n one man in the room beyond let out a startled sound as Dent and Bobseyn followed.

  Before the statue came to a gently rocking stop, Dent put a bullet into a guard behind a desk to the left and sent another round at a second man further back, near a set of double doors. His second shot missed, the intended target ducking to the side and firing a round of his own. Dent had to squeeze the trigger twice after that, the first bullet hitting the man in the chest, the second just above the vest, in the base of his neck.

  Scanning the rest of the room with his barrel, he found that Bobseyn had dropped the one and only guard on that side of the room. Dent didn’t point out that Bobseyn had wisely opted to aim for the man’s head, and not his vest. Perhaps the sheriff was finally seeing things Dent’s way.

  Dent reloaded and when the palm ID clicked the safety off he looked to Bobseyn.

  Nodding at the Glock, Bobseyn commented, “I’ve got to put in a request for one of those.”

  “Standard issue for a DUUP agent.”

  “So, you stole it.”

  “Parting gift. One of many.”

  Bobseyn stepped to the double doors ahead, gesturing for Dent to join him. Without preamble, Dent kicked the doors wide and stepped into Jeffery’s large office. He disregarded everything in the room in less than a heartbeat, everything except the single man standing near the rear wall, hands behind his back.

  Dent took two steps forward, the barrel of his gun glued to Jeffery’s smiling face. And even to someone like Dent, Jeffery’s smile appeared false.

  XLIV

  “Where is Kasumi?”

  When Jeffery failed to respond, Dent took another two steps forward, putting himself just at the lip of the single step dividing the huge room.

  The fake smile melted away as Jeffery said evenly, “Impatient, aren’t you?”

  “More like devil-damned stubborn,” Bobseyn said as he stepped past Dent on the right, and up the step. He also had his gun leveled at Jeffery. “But either way, I’d say it’s high time we end this.”