“Hey!” A man’s head appeared.
Joshua fired.
The enemy soldier crumpled out of sight. Enemy laser fire shot down, narrowly missing Anya’s arm. Behind her, Joshua fired again.
Their heads swiftly cleared the trapdoor. Laser ready, Anya surveyed the room. It appeared to be the security room. In the far corner, a man at the console reached for his weapon. She fired. A burn mark scorched his uniform, but his weapon snapped up, steady in his hands. Laser fire spit over her shoulder, and the man crumpled.
Tersely, Joshua said, “Out. We’re clear.”
Anya scrambled out. Three dead bodies littered the small room.
“We’ve got to be fast,” Joshua muttered. “They probably tripped the alarm.” He stripped off a dead man’s uniform shirt and yanked it over his own. Anya did the same, and when Joshua clipped his transmitter to his underlying snow wear, she followed suit.
She reflected that it was a good thing they had worn black pants. Combined with the stolen shirts, they would be able to blend into Altai’s military personnel.
“Hide our coats in the closet,” Joshua ordered. “If we make it back here, we’ll need them.” He flipped through the security guard’s keycards. “Good,” he grunted, and stuffed them in his pocket.
While Joshua swiftly ripped a board from the computer console and inserted a bomb inside, Anya elected to swipe a key set from a dead man, too. It gave her the creeps to touch his still warm body.
Seconds later, Joshua popped the panel back in place. He’d stuffed the remaining bombs inside his shirt, giving him a paunchy look. Anya didn’t like the idea of the bombs being so close to his skin. For all intents and purposes, he was a walking suicide bomber, and she didn’t like the thought. Especially since she knew Joshua would sacrifice his life if he believed it would save thousands of Donetski lives.
Surely, it would never come to that.
“When will the bomb go off?” she whispered.
“I’ll detonate it with the first attack. It’s a small electrical bomb, hooked only into the computer system. It should leave the room intact for our escape, if Michael can’t get to us.”
So, Joshua intended to retreat down the ladder as a last resort. Maybe if they made it back here safely with Marli and the others, Anya would be more grateful than frightened by that prospect.
Boots pounded in the hallway, and Joshua pressed his back to the wall, laser steady in his hand. Onred’s men knew they had broken into Gorno. The war had begun.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Lights flickered in the security room, and Anya’s gaze found Joshua’s. “Were those the first attacks?”
He nodded. Laser at the ready, he held very still, muscular shoulders bunched, prepared to fire.
The door banged open. Joshua shot the first two men who barged through, then he turned into the doorway and shot two more. Anya winged another. Joshua’s grunt signaled he’d been hit, but then he was out, moving down the hall before she could ask if he was all right. He shot the man she had winged, and ran down the hall.
Voices sounded behind them, and Joshua turned and fired. Anya did the same, but wasn’t as sure of her success. Another man crumpled. An elevator opened, and Joshua shot the military woman who stepped out. Anya gasped, but followed him in. The door silently slid shut.
“Schematics show communications and main security are on the fourth floor. We’ll go there next. Command Central is on the sixth.” Joshua fingered his small computer, and an explosion rocked the elevator. “First bomb a success,” he said grimly. “Disabling Command Central is key, if all else fails. We’ve got to get our troops in.”
“Give me a bomb. I’ll help you.”
His gaze held hers for a long moment.
“Don’t you trust me?” she asked in exasperation. “I can plant a bomb just as well as you can.”
“I trust you.” He swiftly unbuttoned his shirt. “I’ll give you one, just in case we’re separated.”
“You mean in case something happens to you.” Joshua would never voluntarily leave her.
He did not answer, but unstrapped a thin metal box, perhaps three centimeters by four, from his chest. Wires with clips dangled like spider’s legs from two ends. He lifted her shirt and unclipped a loop on her utility belt. The belt tugged forward on her hips as he snapped the box securely in place. Odd flutters tickled her belly as his businesslike fingers tucked black plastic gloves in beside the bomb. “Use the gloves,” he instructed. “Strip the wires to the main computer. Then attach the clips. See, the top of the box is a timer. It’s set for five minutes.”
Anya looked down. His strong, tanned fingers still gripped her belt, as if he had every right to touch her and adjust any article of clothing he wished. Her heart beat harder. She struggled to focus on the digital display.
“The white button increases the time,” he said. “Black decreases. Red starts the timer. Understand?”
“Yes.” She looked up at him, feeling vulnerable. His brown eyes were hard, as if readying for battle, and yet when they met hers, an odd look softened them. A silent heartbeat passed. Slowly, he tugged her forward and he kissed her. The scorching, possessive intensity made her tremble. “Follow my lead,” he murmured.
Unable to speak, she nodded, and the elevator doors slid open.
Lights flickered in the hall they entered. People swiftly walked by, ignoring them. Their stolen uniforms were doing the trick.
Anya followed Joshua’s swift footsteps down the corridor and then left, down a narrower one. Double doors inscribed with “Communications Center” ended the hallway. A swipe of the key code access card, and the light flashed green.
Joshua shouldered inside as if he belonged there. He shot the security man at the desk. Still moving fast, he strode into a room covered with floor-to-ceiling computer screens. Half a dozen people manned work stations. Three stood up. Surprise registered when they spotted Anya and Joshua.
“Hey,” exclaimed a bespectacled man, fumbling with the laser at his belt.
A burly guard in the corner whipped out his laser, but it was too late. Joshua shot him, and then the first man.
Lasers fired toward them, and Joshua ducked behind the wall. Anya knelt behind the dead guard’s desk and shot around it.
Two men rushed the desk. Her laser caught one in the chest. Fire sizzled by her hair and burned into her scalp. Anya aimed for the next man’s head, and he cried out and sprawled on the floor. Fear didn’t even register in Anya, nor did squeamishness at killing another human being. Just survival.
“Security! Code red. Get up here! Two…” A gurgle ended another man’s frantic call for help.
Joshua said, “Cover me,” and edged into the room, weapon steady. Everyone lay dead.
Anya followed him, feeling sick, keeping an eye on the door they had come in, and searching for another avenue of escape. How many people had they just killed? An exit across the room caught her eye, and she sprinted to it while Joshua ripped off a computer console and clipped in a bomb.
It was a stairwell. Clanging boots pounded upstairs, growing louder by the second. Thinking quickly, Anya ran up one short flight, and then crouched down, just around the corner. A pair of men appeared, backs to her, heading for the door to the communications room. At close range, even with her mediocre laser skills, it was easy to pick off the first man. The second man whirled on her. He got a piece of her sleeve, and pain burned into her arm. Ignoring it, she blasted laser fire into his chest. He tumbled down the stairs. Silence descended in the stairwell. Anya peered around the corner. No more men. She had been lucky; the element of surprise had given her the advantage. A quick glance at her arm assured her it was only a shallow wound. In fact, it barely hurt. Maybe because of the adrenaline charging through her.
She slipped back into the communications room. “The stairs are clear. Hurry.”
Joshua didn’t answer. All she could see were his shoulders, hunched over the computer. “There.” He snapped the console back in place.
Feet sounded in the hallway, and men barreled through the front door.
Anya fired, bursting laser flashes for stronger impact. The first man went down, but the second man ducked and swiveled to shoot Joshua. Joshua disappeared behind the consoles.
Yellow fire spit at Anya and she gasped, realizing she was the only one in plain view.
More feet pounded up the stairs behind her, so she whirled back upstairs and crouched out of sight, like she’d done before. With a cold-blooded efficiency, that on some unspeakable level frightened her, she shot in quick succession all three men barreling up the stairs.
Her hands shook when she lowered the weapon. How many men had she just killed? And where was Joshua?
She peered into the room again and aimed for a flash of black hair and a moving piece of uniform. A muffled curse told her she’d made a hit.
And then more men poured into the room, ten, fifteen… Anya lost count. She winged several, but they flooded the room like a tidal wave. Joshua!
Where was he? And then a black clad soldier jerked Joshua upright, laser pressed into his temple.
Anya gasped. Joshua’s dark eyes locked with hers. His message was clear. Run. Take Command Central. Gorno’s shield must be deactivated, and their computers destroyed, or the rescue mission would fail.
She gazed at him for a long, agonizing moment. She couldn’t leave him.
And yet his black expression seared the word, “Go.”
“Get her!”
Anya whirled and sprinted up the stairs.
Men pounded after her. She burst out into the fifth floor hallway and wildly looked left and right. Where to go?
A short distance left, a hall branched to the right. She ran for it. It led to an inner corridor, faced by dozens of doors. Frantically, she tried each one as she passed.
Finally, one opened and she burst inside.
A tall, white-haired girl unfolded herself from a round cushion in the middle of the floor and turned to face her.
Emelie! Onred’s daughter.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
A swift, terrible idea entered Anya’s mind. Laser held steadily between her two hands, she advanced into the room. “Hands up where I can see them.”
The willowy girl raised them above her head. No expression marked the smooth, oval face.
Anya searched in her belt for the flexible handcuffs. While pulling them free, she darted behind Emelie, yanked the girl’s hands down, and secured them behind her back. “To the chair,” she ordered. For good measure, she pulled the straight-backed chair to the center of the room, fastened Emelie’s legs to it, and tied her hands to the ladder back.
Emelie said nothing, which seemed odd. Anya’s breaths came fast, as she tried to get a grip on her emotions, which threatened to explode. Joshua. And her family. How would she ever free them now? This girl had to be the key. But how could she use Emelie to her best advantage?
The television screen beeped across the room. What did it mean? Emelie continued to watch Anya, her face a blank mask. It disturbed her.
On a hunch, Anya pulled the phone she’d been given for the mission from her belt and opened Alpha channel. She didn’t dare turn on Emelie’s television screen, for fear it had a camera imbedded for a return broadcast.
Onred’s face filled the small screen. Glee glittered in his slitted eyes. “A choice morsel has fallen into my lap, citizens of Donetsk.” The shot cut away to reveal Joshua, being dragged into a room. His shirt had been stripped off to reveal the bombs attached to his chest. Purple bruised his bad eye, and a red line split his charred cheek. Anya swallowed back a cry of horror and instinctively moved behind Emelie, so the girl couldn’t see her distress. Men strapped Joshua to a chair. One pulled forward a machine, and still another attached electrodes to Joshua’s neck and his chest, too, by snaking them inside of his black snow wear.
Anya put a hand to her mouth to stop a scream. They meant to electrocute him. Torture him. And in the process his bombs might explode.
Onred’s face appeared on screen. His smile curdled Anya’s soul. “It is simple, Donetsk. Your destruction has begun. I will extract all of your secrets from your leader, and then I will kill him. And when I find the lovely Anya Dubrovnyk, who hides within my city, I will kill her, too. Then the war will end.” He cackled. “Donetsk Territory is mine.”
More lights flickered. The allied attack was well underway. However, no explosion had sounded from the communications center downstairs. Had the men found Joshua’s bomb? It appeared so.
Then how would the extraction team break inside Gorno? Joshua had only disabled a small slice of their internal security. With Gorno’s main security still working, and both the communications center and Command Central still going strong, what were their chances of defeating the city?
Next to none. Anya had to find a way to turn off the shields, and to stop all communications between Onred and his fighters. She had to weaken the city’s internal defenses so Richert’s men and Donetsk’s could overtake Gorno. But how?
Joshua had planned to plant a bomb inside Command Central.
Realistically, Anya didn’t see how she could possibly take over Command Central alone and plant a bomb. On the other hand, if she could gain access by computer…
Maybe she could figure out a way to disrupt Gorno’s communications network.
Her gaze darted about Emelie’s small apartment. A door led to a bedroom. The main living area included a dining table and a kitchen. A faint glow, around the corner in the dining nook, caught her eye. Anya hurried to investigate, and her breath caught. Emelie had turned her dining room into a computer station rivaling a small scale ZCA Command Central. She remembered Marli mentioning that only Astana’s technological marvels had intrigued Emelie. Now she understood why. The girl must be a computer genius. A full screen wrapped around three walls, and three separate keypads indicated the multipurpose use of the system.
Images flickered on the screens. A quick inspection revealed the system was logged into Gorno’s internal networks, too.
Anya smiled. Returning to the living area, she tilted Emelie’s chair back and dragged her backwards into the dining nook, so she could keep an eye on her. Then she double-bolted Emelie’s front door and settled down at Emelie’s central work station.
“Now,” she murmured, “let’s see what we can find.”
* * * * *
Pain sizzled into Joshua’s neck. His muscles convulsed, and he bit back a moan. The bastards had already jolted him seven times. His skin burned. “Warming you up,” said one fiend.
Gray colors swam in his bad eye and his head felt like it was about to explode. In his dim field of vision, Onred appeared, smiling. Joshua wanted to kick in the sick bastard’s teeth.
“So,” Onred said pleasantly. “I hope you feel warmly welcomed to Gorno.”
Joshua didn’t bother to answer.
Silence elapsed. “Fine. This might loosen your tongue.” Onred passed a small computer screen before Joshua’s eyes. His good eye made out Anya’s frightened face. “We’ve captured your girlfriend. She’s eagerly awaiting my return.”
The words hit Joshua like a punch to the heart. He closed his eyes. And then the picture swam again through his mind’s eye. It was Anya, all right. But behind her had been a darkened doorway…and stairs. The picture was shot before she had fled from the communications room. He gritted his teeth. The lying, two-faced cockroach. Onred would take half-truths and feed on Joshua’s fears—if Joshua let him.
He needed to retreat inside of his skull, as he had done so long ago…
“You will do as I say,” said Onred’s hated voice. To Joshua, the words sounded hollow, as if coming from a great distance. Onred’s voice merged with his father’s. The liar. The manipulating bastard, goading him, forcing him to hurt the ones he loved most. Never again. Never.
Pain flicked into Joshua’s cheek, and he opened his eyes. Onred glared back. “Enough of the games. I want information. Give it
to me, and I’ll set your precious Anya free.”
Joshua did not respond.
Onred shoved another picture into his face. A blue ball of fire filled the screen. Michael’s shield. The picture must have been shot during the air battle in the canyon. Onred said, “The bird is standard issue. The shield, clearly, is not. Who invented it?”
Joshua said nothing.
The territory baron’s voice rose. “Who invented it?”
Joshua remained silent. So, he had been right. Onred didn’t want greenhouses or land. He wanted Donetsk’s technological inventions.
Onred abruptly motioned. Pain, long and intense, burned into Joshua’s chest. He couldn’t stop his moan, nor, eventually, the saliva that dripped from his bottom lip.
Onred passed the plastic handcuffs before Joshua’s bleary eyes. Following these, he held up other technical marvels, all stolen from Joshua’s belt. “Who invented these?”
He remained silent.
“Who invented them?” Onred screamed.
“Yankee doodle.” Joshua chuckled, because suddenly, it was very funny.
Hot pain sizzled into the back of his head. Mercifully, everything went black.
* * * * *
Anya pressed her hand to her mouth, choking back cries of horror. She had pulled up Alpha channel shortly after sitting down at Emelie’s computer. She had seen every second of Joshua’s torture. And now…was he dead? He lay so still. But his chest moved.
Abruptly, the feed went black.
Anya wiped at the tears slipping down her face. She had to do something. Anything, to free him. But what, and how? Hatred for Onred rose like a black virus in her soul. She wanted to rip out his demonic heart with her bare hands. She wanted to hurt him as horribly as he had just hurt Joshua.
Her watery gaze went to Emelie, and a terrible, awful idea entered her mind. She couldn’t.
And yet she could.
First, though, while Joshua was safely unconscious, she needed to figure out how to disrupt Gorno’s communications systems. Onred would surely wait until Joshua woke up before torturing him again. Her mind replayed Onred’s screaming demands. Richert’s oblique, sly hints had proven right. Onred wasn’t interested in Donetsk’s greenhouses at all. He wanted ZCA’s inventions; specifically, the name of the inventor responsible for Michael’s new shield. It boggled her mind what Onred could do if he gained control of ZCA’s brilliant head scientists. She knew Joshua well enough, however, to know that he would die before divulging that information.
Ice Baron (Ice Chronicles, Book One (science fiction romance)) Page 21
