Chip in His Shoulder, A

by Witt, L. A.

  “Ready?” I asked.

  “Um, no.”

  We stepped into the elevator shaft anyway, balancing on the narrow horizontal beams.

  “Watch yourself,” I said. “Closing the door.” I eased the heavy door shut, and it banged into place, sealing us in as the sound echoed down the thirty-story shaft.

  As I attached the grappling hook to the beam above me, Daniel craned his neck, looking over his head and then down into the vertical void below us. He might have made a strangled, terrified sound. What he couldn’t hide, though, was the color draining from his face as he turned back toward the wall. He closed his eyes and took a few slow, deep breaths.

  As I put the rope under my thigh and started to draw it up over my right hip, I said, “Don’t look down, idiot.”

  He flipped me off, but didn’t speak.

  “I’m serious.” I pulled the rope over my shoulder and tugged it, making sure everything was in place. “You’ll just give yourself vertigo.”

  He muttered something I couldn’t understand, then eyed where the rope looped under my leg a few inches from my crotch. “That looks like it could raise a hell of a rope burn if you move wrong.”

  “Yep. Moral of the story?” I tugged the rope again. “Don’t move wrong.”

  He rolled his eyes. “You’d make a great teacher, you know that?”

  “Yeah, I’ll look into that when we get to the bottom.”

  I tested the rope one last time, then leaned back. His face paled a little more, probably at the realization I was leaning out over the empty space below, and that he’d have to do the same in a minute.

  “I’m going about three stories down,” I said. “Then you’ll join me. We’ll do this three stories at a time until I’m sure you’ve got it.”

  “That’ll take forever.”

  “Well,” I said. “Then we’d better hope you get the hang of it quickly and no one thinks to look for us in here.”

  “Great.” Whatever he said after that, I didn’t hear, because I started down the wall.

  Under normal circumstances, I could make it from top to bottom in no time flat, but I moved slowly now. I didn’t want Daniel to think he’d need to go quickly. Of course, we did need to move quickly, but the time we’d save with speed would be negated if he broke his neck thirty stories down.

  As promised, I stopped after three floors. I was glad Daniel couldn’t hear the way my heart thundered as I watched him loop the rope under his leg and around his side. I held the end of the rope taut for him, silently begging him to have paid close attention. There were so many ways this could go wrong. So many ways.

  He gingerly leaned back over the void. After a moment that probably seemed longer to me than it really was, he took the first jump. Paused. Took another. After a couple of small, cautious leaps, he let a little more rope slide through and made it past the first story. The second.

  Daniel’s foot clipped one of the horizontal beams, and my blood turned cold when he overcorrected. I sucked in a breath, panic surging through my veins as he tried to find a foothold, teetered slightly, and—to my horror—lost his grip on the rope.

  He dropped.

  With a split second to react, I grabbed onto a vertical support for balance and reached for him as he fell past me. I managed to get my arm around his waist, but misjudged, well, everything. My foot slipped off the beam, and my hand slid down the support. I fell to my knee, keeping a tenuous hold on the support and an even less steady one on him.

  We both stopped. He dangled over the elevator shaft, and I gritted my teeth as I fought to keep us both from falling. He grasped the front of my shirt in one hand and my supporting arm in the other, his gaze darting toward the void below us.

  My shoulder burned as his weight pulled at tissue still under repair. I sucked in a breath, trying to ignore the pain and keep from giving Daniel a reason to panic while I worked out exactly how to get us out of this.

  The rope dangled uselessly a meter and a half to my left, and when I tried to pull us up, his grip on my arm and shirt restricted my range of motion. I couldn’t move, especially not without ripping my wound open again and risking dropping him.

  “Daniel.” I swallowed. “Look at me. Look in my eyes.” When he did, I said, “Listen to me. We’re going to go down until you can feel the next beam with your feet. It’ll be easier and safer than trying to pull us both up.”

  He nodded.

  I adjusted the arm I had around him. “I’m going to get us out of this. But I need you to let go.”

  “What? Let go?”

  I nodded slowly. “I can’t move like this.”

  He stared up at me, fear written all over his expression, from his upraised eyebrows to his nervous gulp.

  “I won’t let you fall. You have to trust me.”

  Eyes locked on mine, he stayed frozen for a few seconds. Finally, he loosened his grip on my shirt. After another moment, he released my arm.

  Without his death grip, I had more range of motion. Ignoring the burning in my shoulder as nanobots scrambled to repair tearing flesh, I eased myself over the beam and carefully, an inch at a time, lowered us both. Daniel kept his eyes screwed shut and his lips in a tight, terrified grimace.

  “Breathe, Daniel,” I said softly. “Won’t do us any good if you pass out.”

  He shivered and released his breath.

  “Feel around for the beam,” I said. “Tell me when you—”

  “There.” His eyes opened and met mine. “I can—” He furrowed his brow slightly. “Let me down another couple of inches.”

  I lowered him a little farther, and his weight eased as his feet found the beam.

  “Grab onto that support.” I nodded to his left. When he had a grip on that, I released him, rolling my shoulder a few times as the nanobots did their job. Once I was sure my muscles had fused back together enough to support me, I inched across the beam to grab the rope.

  Glancing back at Daniel, I said, “Watch your head.” Then I jerked the rope like I was cracking a bullwhip, and the grappling hook came loose. I caught it before it dropped past me, hooked it just above my head, maneuvered the rope around me like I’d done before, and started down.

  I paused beside him. “You looked like you had it together before you fell. Think you can handle doing it again?”

  “Don’t have much of a choice, do I?” he croaked.

  “Not really, no.” I inclined my head. “But I don’t want you panicking mid-jump.”

  “I’ll be all right.”

  “You sure?”

  “Just go,” he said. “Let’s do this before I have time to think about how not ready for it I am.”

  I couldn’t really argue with that. Before I pushed off, though, I said, “If you lose your balance again or miss a foothold, remember you have the rope. Until your feet are planted firmly on something solid at the bottom, the rope is your support. You have to trust it. Do not let go of the rope until you have your feet on the ground or a ledge. Got it?”

  He nodded.

  “See you down below.” I pushed off and descended the next few floors.

  We both made it the rest of the way without incident, but every minute we spent inching down the elevator shaft sent another drop of cold sweat down the back of my neck. It was only a matter of time before security figured out where we were.

  Daniel landed gently on top of the elevator car. As he took off the rope, he said, “Now what?”

  “Now, we get the fuck out of here.” I pulled the grappling hook down and started coiling the rope around my hand and elbow. “Are the cameras back online?”

  He pulled out the palm computer while I looped the rope over my shoulder.

  “Yeah, they’re back online. And there’s a camera inside the elevator car.”

  “I know.” I held out my hand. “Give me the computer.”

  “What?”

  “Part of my plan,” I said. “Trust me.”

  He hesitated, but after a moment, he put the de
vice in my outstretched hand. “Be careful with it, would you?”

  “Of course.” I slid it into my pocket, then leaned down and opened the access hatch. “Smile. We’re about to be on television.” Without waiting for a response, I dropped through the opening. Once I was on my feet and out of Daniel’s way, I reached for my ankle holster and withdrew one of my guns.

  He landed beside me and glanced, wide-eyed, at the weapon in my hand. “What next?”

  “We get out of here.” I pushed the “door open” button, and the freight door creaked and squealed.

  “What about the cameras? As soon as we step out there, we’ll be—”

  He stopped abruptly when I pointed my pistol straight at his head.

  “What the . . .!” His eyes darted over his right shoulder, probably at the camera in the corner of the elevator. “Liam, what are you doing?”

  “Walk.” I gestured with the gun toward the open doorway. “Put your hands behind your head and walk.”

  Fury replaced fear in his tight lips and narrowed eyes. “You son of a bitch.”

  “Just do it.” I inclined my head and kept my voice low, barely even moving my lips as I added, “Trust me.”

  His eyebrows jumped. “Are you—”

  “Now.”

  Swearing under his breath, Daniel laced his fingers behind his head. “What the fuck are you doing?”

  “This from the man who pulled the trigger upstairs.” I gestured with the gun. “Now move.”

  He stepped out into the hall ahead of me.

  “Go left,” I said.

  He obeyed, and I followed.

  “When we’re in the garage and I tell you to,” I said as quietly as I could, “Run for the car.”

  “Where will you be?”

  “Right behind you.”

  “With or without the gun to my head?”

  “Just walk.”

  Turning his head just slightly, he said, “Would it kill you to give me a little warning the next time your plan involves something like this?”

  “I’ll keep it in mind.”

  “Asshole.”

  We walked in silence to the door marked Lobby. This was it. I doubted Harding’s security knew what was really going on, that Daniel was supposed to die too, but I didn’t like banking on it. There was no turning back anyway. By now, security had seen us on no fewer than half a dozen cameras.

  “Open the door,” I said, pulling Daniel’s palm computer out of my pocket.

  “Are you fucking—”

  “Don’t argue with me. I know what I’m doing.” I hope.

  He reached for the door with a shaking hand. When he pushed it open, dozens of Harding’s black-clad security officers were waiting for us, the barrel of every weapon fixed on me. Their conventional ammunition wouldn’t hurt me, but a stray bullet could take Daniel down, and I wasn’t interested in seeing how many body-armored security guards it would take to overpower me.

  “Lower your weapons,” I barked. “Anyone takes a shot or makes a move, Harding’s kid is dead.” Slowly, I raised my other hand and showed the palm computer. “And the whole fucking place goes up.”

  Nervous glances flicked between the armed men.

  “Now,” I snarled. “Weapons on the ground unless you all want a pile of rubble on your damned heads.”

  No one moved.

  I pressed the gun against the back of Daniel’s head, just below his interlaced hands. “I’m not fucking around. There are six A-level explosives inside the maintenance elevator shaft.” I held the palm computer up higher. “One button, boys. And don’t bother trying to kill me: the bombs are all wired into my mods, and the second my heart stops, the whole place comes down.”

  Raised eyebrows all around said they didn’t know whether or not I was bluffing. More exchanged glances. Nervous murmurs. Still, no one moved.

  “He’s not kidding.” Daniel’s voice shook enough that the fear may well have been genuine. “For fuck’s sake, do what he says.”

  One by one, barrels pointed toward the floor.

  “Lay them down,” I ordered. “All of them. Slowly.”

  One gun clicked on the floor. Then another. Then the rest.

  “Hands behind your heads.”

  They all obeyed.

  “Who’s in charge?” I asked.

  “I am.” A square-jawed officer stepped forward. “I’m in charge.”

  I gestured with the palm computer. “Radio down to any men in the parking garage. I want them all up here and unarmed in the next two minutes.”

  The officer hesitated, but only for a second. “All units to the lobby,” he said into his radio, his eyes still locked on me. “Unarmed. Repeat, return to the lobby unarmed. Do you copy? Over.”

  The radio crackled to life. “I’m sorry, what?”

  “You heard me,” the officer said, still holding my gaze. “Return to the lobby unarmed. Do you copy? Over.”

  Fifteen long seconds of silence. The officer fidgeted, alternately eyeing the computer in my hand and the radio in his own.

  Behind me, a boot creaked and a sleeve whispered. I snapped toward the sound and fired. A heartbeat later, the wannabe hero cried out and drew his hand back, clutching it against his chest as blood seeped between his fingers.

  “Anyone else?” I growled, pressing the gun to Daniel’s head again. He flinched at the touch of the hot metal and sucked in a sharp breath, so I surreptitiously drew the barrel back, just enough to keep from burning his skin.

  No one moved.

  I looked at the one who’d radioed the others. “Are they going to keep fucking around down there?”

  He swallowed. “Unit twelve, you received an order. Do you copy? Over.”

  Silence.

  Then, “We copy. On our way up. Over.”

  “Be advised,” he said. “There is the threat of an explosive device. Do not attempt a confrontation. Repeat, do not attempt a confrontation. Over.”

  “Copy that. Over.”

  Tense silence lingered in the lobby. After a full minute, the door to the parking garage stairwell opened, and another dozen or so officers filed in, hands up as ordered. At my command, they knelt along the wall. My heart raced, but I dared not show a hint of nerves. I kept the gun steady behind Daniel’s head, and didn’t let my other hand shake. No one in this room needed to know it made me nervous as fuck that this part was going too smoothly.

  Once we had a clear path to the stairwell, Daniel and I continued through the lobby. I kept my senses focused on any indication of movement—the squeak of a boot, the scuff of fabric over fabric, a catch of breath—but every man stayed still. No one spoke. No one moved. No one made a sound except the gasping, groaning man I’d shot.

  Daniel pushed the door open.

  At the bottom of the stairs, I held my gun out again, sweeping the apparently deserted parking garage. The whole place was silent, not even the slightest sound or movement.

  Once I was certain we were alone—this is too easy, way too easy—I gestured at Daniel. “Let’s go.”

  We stayed low and hurried across the garage to where Daniel had parked his car.

  “Motherfucker,” Daniel muttered.

  “What? What’s wrong?”

  “He’s got a fucking boot on the tire. That’ll take some time to break through.”

  “We don’t have ‘some time.’” I came around to that side of the car, glaring at the red metal clamp on the front wheel. “You get on the ignition blocker and the tracker. I’ll do what I can with this.” I handed him his palm computer, and while he went to work on the electronics, I knelt beside the tire and started on the wheel boot.

  It was a simple lock, and I always carried lock picks, but we didn’t have time for this. For any of it.

  As I picked the lock, I looked around the garage, watching for feet under cars and listening for movement. So far, so good.

  The boot came loose, and I kicked it away from the wheel so we wouldn’t run it over on the way out.


  “Done,” I said. “How are you coming?”

  “Almost . . .” He cursed under his breath a few times. “Almost done.”

  “Hurry up.”

  He muttered some more profanity. Finally, about the time I was sure he’d taken far too long, he said, “Yes! Done.” Metal clattered, and a second later, Daniel slammed the hood of the car. “Let’s go.”

  From a few meters to my left, the whisper-faint scuff of a boot on pavement turned my head. I looked past Daniel just in time to see three officers raise their guns. Time slowed down. My heart sped up. Three fingers curled around three triggers, and I lunged for Daniel.

  I grabbed his arm and threw him to the pavement and out of the line of fire. With my other hand, I drew my weapon and opened fire in the same instant they shot back.

  All three men dropped, but not before searing pain just below my ribs and again above my hip doubled me over.

  Clutching my stomach, I swept my gun from left to right, searching for any others. We were alone. The other guards hadn’t—

  Oh God . . . Oh fuck . . .

  I crumpled to my knees. Hot liquid flowed between my fingers. Nanobots tore through me from all directions, homing in on the core of pure white-fire pain.

  What the hell? I withdrew one hand, and sure enough, it was covered with blood. Since when did . . . how the . . . Even if Harding had taken out an illegal hit on his own son, I hadn’t anticipated him outfitting his security force with banned ammunition.

  “Liam!” Daniel dropped beside me. “Are you all right?”

  I held up one shaking hand, and he sucked in a breath at the sight of blood dripping off my fingers and palm.

  “Shit,” he muttered. “Can you move?”

  “Not very— Oh, God,” I groaned, falling forward onto one bloody hand and clutching my stomach with the other.

  “We don’t have a choice. Come on.” He pulled my arm around his shoulders and hauled me to my feet. I might have groaned again, but I didn’t even know if I’d managed to draw a breath over the blinding inferno in my gut.