Chasing Power (Hidden Talents) (38 page)

“She’s been cooperative so far.  Why risk it?”

But the woman was right to worry.  Erik might have been chosen for his ability to resist her power-grabs, but the Corp hadn’t thought their assignment through as carefully.  While she was dressed simply in jeans, a white blouse, khaki jacket and brown boots, this woman was fairly dripping with extra energy. 

Sam waited until she was closer, then gently reached out, thinking she would just take a teensy bit for now...

ZZZT!  A bolt of pain tore through Sam’s body.  Fifty thousand plus volts, to be precise.

The current stopped and Sam went sprawling onto the pavement.  The woman pocketed the taser she’d pulled out of her jeans pocket.

“Damn it all to hell!” was what Sam wanted to say.  It came out more like “Blllluuurg.”  She’d never even seen the taser coming—had no idea it would have that effect on her.

“All right, up you go.”  A heavyset man appeared to lift her off the ground.  Another man—this one tall and somewhat younger than the first—and a woman appeared.  The woman hurried forward and snapped something around her neck.  A basic nylon collar with a slender plastic box that pressed against the base of her skull

The woman in jeans smiled at Erik, “Nice doing business with you.”

Erik gave a half-wave as he climbed into the car, “You too, Renée.  Good luck.”

Samantha braced herself,
here it comes
.  The N.T.U. agents followed Erik.  The driver started the car.

Nothing happened.

  It suddenly occurred to Samantha that she might have thought about this too deeply.  It was possible, she realized, that N.T.U. hadn’t planned any sort of double-cross whatsoever—at least not on the Corp.  That they were going to just hand her over and their story was only a means of making her go quietly.

Bastards.

All right,
Sam thought,
now is as good a time as any to escape. 
Keeping an eye on Renée, she reached for energy and—agggghhh!  Her body went rigid as volts went through her again, this time from the collar.  It wasn’t as strong as the taser, but it still stung, like a strong pinch on the back of her neck.

Renée waved a small electronic device that looked like a remote.

“You’re wearing a neat little thing we’ve developed,” Renée said, “A shock collar, like for dogs.  Small zap at irregular intervals.  Can’t use your abilities when the electrical signals in your brain are being interrupted.  Though you’re welcome to try.”

Another zap from the collar caused Sam to stiffen.  It didn’t hurt,
per se
, but it sure got old fast.  The man not holding her firm opened the back door of the SUV, the other one pushed her towards the car. 

 If she was going to act, it had to be now. But what was that whining noise?

KABOOM!

The force of the explosion sent everyone sprawling.  Sam herself got a face full of gravelly asphalt.  The buzzing died down and Sam could hear Renée yelling.

“Jared, get her in the SUV.  Harris, Casey, cover!”

The projectile, maybe a pipe bomb—she couldn’t be sure—had been intended for the truck and them.  Instead, it had deflected off something—probably a Corp Talent had some sort of shielding ability—and hit one of the columns.  Sam could see the sharp cracks radiating through the concrete.  Jared stood and reached down to haul Sam to her feet, as Harris—the tall man—and the woman returned fire at an unseen enemy.

This was her chance.
Bracing her feet on the ground, she resisted Jared as he pulled her towards the car, using all of the strength in her lower body to push back against the ground.  A flare of pain went through her knee, and for a moment she wobbled—but she gritted her teeth and held on.  Jared grunted, putting his weight into pulling her.  The second she sensed his center of balance was off, Sam brought her legs up, eliminating the resistance and causing him to stumble towards the car door.  Sam went down with him and took the opportunity to nail him with her good knee before rolling away.  From there, she was able to scramble to her feet, still favoring her bad knee, only to duck back down as a bullet whizzed by her ear. 

Oh boy.  Cracks and bangs peppered the air, and projectiles were flying by all over the place—not just bullets, but pebbles, rocks, weird pointy things.  The only limit for a TK, apparently, was imagination.

Sam belly-crawled underneath the SUV.  For a split second, she enjoyed a sense of grim satisfaction.  So she’d been right about them trying to kill her in the crossfire after all.  Ha!  The joy was bittersweet and short-lived.  After all, there were still at least two groups who wanted her killed and/or kidnapped, and she was trapped in between both of them.

For now, Sam figured she was relatively safe.  One of the Corp members had made some sort of shield thingy that had protected the SUV from a rocket.  That would protect her, hopefully.  If she could get this damn collar off, she could go back to her original plan.  The handcuffs were annoying, but since her hands were in front of her, she still had some mobility.  Sam slipped a finger up and under the band, looking for the latch.  Nothing, the ends came together seamlessly in the same plastic box that zapped her every second.  The band itself was a thick nylon strap, the kind used for backpacks.  She’d have no luck in breaking that without a knife.

  For the time being, it looked like she was stuck doing things the mortal way.  Emphasis on the word ‘mortal’ in this case.  Looking around, Sam spotted a pair of skinny jeans in a semi-crouch near the hood of the car.  She remembered the motorcyclist and Hal’s knives—both kept in ankle holsters. 

Shimmying forward on her elbows, and now Sam could see the creases on Renée’s expensive leather boots.  Here goes nothing, she thought, and reached out.

A hand latched around her wrist, “Ha!  Knew you’d show up some time.  Jared, help me out!”

Two more hands joined the first, and Sam was unceremoniously dragged out from underneath the SUV, kicking and struggling.  Renée shook her head, “Don’t make me zap you again!”

Sam’s retort died as someone appeared behind Renée, someone she recognized, about thirty feet away and gaining.

“Armani?”

Garret Stone, snappily dressed as always, this time in slate blue, reached into his jacket and pulled out a gun.

Sam shouted a warning, but it was too late.  Renée turned to look, just as the bullet passed through her torso.

Chapter
33

Literally, passed through her torso.  As though her body weren’t even there.

Sam would have thought that incredibly cool, if the bullet hadn’t completed its journey in her left bicep. 

“Owwwww!”  Sam yelled.

Renée yelled, pulling the pin out of what looked to Sam like a grenade and hurling it at Stone.  “Cover!”  The grenade exploded, spewing noxious yellow gas.

“Harris is down!” Jared yelled.  Reaching forward, he grabbed Sam and pulled the SUV door open, shoving her into the back seat next to an unconscious Harris before the yellow gas could reach them.  Jared then jumped into the front seat as Renée climbed in after and slammed the door, “Go, go!”  The car took off with a roar of the engine and a spattering of gravel.

Turning over on itself, Sam’s brain began to process the events.  She’d been ditched by N.T.U., kidnapped by the Corp, and/or rescued by the Corp, from the Corp.  Now, either the collar-zapping was starting to affect her reasoning abilities or she was lacking a crucial piece of information here.

Or maybe it was the fact she’d just been shot.  %#&!& shot!  It felt like a burning stretch of pain from one side of her arm to the other.  And, oh god, she was bleeding.  A lot.  Hot, gushy, bloody blood running down her arm and feeling sticky and ruining her favorite magenta hoodie.

OK, her brain said, one problem at a time.  Sam turned to Renée, who, despite being a probable bad guy, was the only option she had right now: “Doesn’t Garret Stone work for you guys?”

“Yes and no,” Renée said, surprisingly calm, all things considered, “You know how sometimes people will get irritated about how a company is being run and elect someone to takeover and things get really nasty with in-fighting?  What’s the word for that again?”

“An insider takeover.”

“Right.  He’s trying one of those right now.”  Shifting in her seat, Renée rubbed up against Sam’s arm.  Blood came away on her white blouse and Renée sighed in frustration, scooting away from Sam. 

Sam ignored the woman’s lack of concern, “And what do I have to do with this?”

“We were going to give you his job.  Your first assignment would be to take him out.”

“Oh.”  Sam took a second for this to sink in.  Getting paid to stop the person who was trying to kill her.  That didn’t seem like such a bad deal.  “Is that offer still on the table?”

“We did just pay N.T.U. an absurd amount of money for you.  So I guess that would make you... an indentured servant.”

“I’m sure that’s up for negotiation.  You want to take this collar off?”

Renée looked at Sam and smiled, “Everything’s up for negotiation.  But we’ll wait until we’re somewhere nice and safe before taking that off.”    

 “Look out!” the driver yelled.  The SUV lurched and skidded as something slammed into it from the driver’s side.  Another crash, another lurch, and the car was weaving, colliding with something—a guardrail?—and fishtailing.

“Evade, evade!”  Renée screamed.

“I can’t, the steering’s out!” Casey yelled back.

No steering?  Sam’s breath caught.  That could be a mechanical TK!  God damn it, if only she wasn’t wearing this damn thing, she’d have an idea of what was going on!

At that moment, the SUV slammed into a divider and tumbled over onto its side.  Sam was tossed head over heels, from the floor to the new ground—the passenger’s side door—as the car screeched and skidded several feet on the pavement before finally slowing to a stop.

Seconds ticked by as Samantha regained her sense of orientation and her heart returned to its normal pattern.  She lay sprawled, half-under the unconscious man she guessed was Harris.  Jared and Casey dangled in mid-air, hanging by their seatbelts and pinned by their airbags.  There was no sign of Renée. 

Sam, beyond a lingering sense of dizziness, felt fine. Her back on the ground, on the passenger’s side back door, it suddenly hit her how lucky she was.  Then she tried to take a breath and found she couldn’t.

Oh yes, Sam thought, it’s not a miracle if it doesn’t have a catch. 

The catch being the two hundred plus man on top of her, effectively pinning her to the ground.  And, looking up, it dawned on Samantha that even once she managed to get up the only way out was the driver’s side back door. Which would have to be opened.  Above her head.

Ah, crap.

Handcuffs, one completely useless arm, blood loss, a gimpy knee, and gravity working against her.  Yup.  It looked like this was going to come down to brute strength, cleverness, and sheer determination.

She had one of those things, at least. Taking a deep breath, she counted to three.

Pressing upwards, Sam lifted her body, trying to sort of catapult the unconscious man off her and onto his side.  Almost—almost—with another push, Sam tried to dislodge the body—

Woomph!  The body landed right back on top of her.  Damn it!  There just wasn’t enough room in here.

After a quick rest, Sam counted to three and tried again.  This time, however, when his weight was moved to the side she wiggled her torso up and out, letting gravity do the rest of the hard work in pulling Harris off of her.

Sam sat there for another few seconds, pulling in a grateful breath, working to control her breathing.  She could not have an attack right now, her inhaler was in her back pocket but it might have been in another state for all she cared, because she could not reach it.  Her legs were still pinned; that was next on her list.  Then she’d have to somehow find the keys to her handcuffs—she was pretty sure they were in one of Harris’ pockets—climb out of here and get herself some help. 

“Need some help?”

Sam’s heart leapt and crashed.  She swallowed the feeling and looked up. 

There he was, peering down at her through the doorway of the car, the bright white of overcast sky casting an angelic glow around him. 

“I’ve got this under control,” Sam said.

“I know.  But having me around might make things a little easier.”

Ignoring Lane, she struggled to unpin her legs.

“Sam.”

I can’t hear you
, Sam thought,
I am not listening.  I will not respond.

“Samantha!”

“Traitor!”  OK, that was it.  She wasn’t going to say anything else.

“Sam, I swear I didn’t know N.T.U.’s plans.  They stole my notebook, I came as soon as I figured it out.”

“Bullshit!”  Absolutely last thing.

“Sam, look, you’re the one who says actions speak louder than words.  What are my actions saying right now?”

This time, Sam managed to keep her mouth shut.  But anger proved a handy tool when it came to strength, and she finally managed to yank her left leg free.