The Courier (San Angeles) (32 page)

When I finished talking to William, I walked back to Quincy’s car and plugged the comm unit in. I sure as hell didn’t want the power to die on it.

I figured the best place to wait for the call would be near the hospital I’d left Miller at, one level down. I figured Jeremy would keep him down there. There was no security between Levels 6 and 7, but why transport someone farther that you had to? As long as they weren’t in one of the gated communities, I was fine.

I started the car and drove out of the shuttle port, heading for the nearest main road. Once there, I turned on Quincy’s map system and found the closest down-ramp. Slipping down to Level 6 felt like going home. The ceiling over top of my head and the dimmed Ambients brought back the feeling of familiarity and comfort.

Now I sat near the hospital, on a small residential street that seemed darker than the rest. I found some paper in the glove box and crumpled it until it felt softer, using it to wipe some of the blood off my face. It came off in small, dry flakes.

Every minute that passed felt like an hour. I had bitten my fingernails down to the quick, and still tried to tear off more. It was a habit I had gotten rid of two years ago. I forced my hands into my lap. They were shaking. Moments later, I had to do it again. The pattern repeated over the next hour.

Miller’s comm unit rang, breaking the silence. I jumped in my seat, my heart racing like a shuttle leaving orbit. I reached out and touched the screen.

“Yes?”

“We found him.” William gave me the address and added, “We
have an extraction team on the way. They should be there in about twenty minutes. Do
not
do anything until they arrive. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes.”

I punched the address in the map system. Christ, the house was only a few blocks from where I was parked. I’d been here for over an hour, and all this time I had been walking distance away. I started the car and drove to the street, turning off the lights as I neared the address. The house looked dark.

Suddenly, the garage door opened and a limousine pulled out. It was too dark to see, but my guess was the only person in it was the driver.

The only problem was it was just a guess.

What if they were moving Miller? What if Devon wasn’t the snitch, or mole, whatever they called him? Or what if there was more than one? If Jeremy had been notified of the extraction team’s activation, then Miller would be in the car, being moved to a new location. Fuck! I had to find out. Did I follow the car, or check out the house?

As the limo drove past, I slouched down in my seat, keeping my head below the level of the windows. The tape slipped, and the black box shifted, cutting into my shoulder blades. I waited long enough for the limo to pass, and sat up again. The car was gone. My mind was made up. Check the house, and if Miller was gone, let William know. I opened the door, for the first time noticing the interior light didn’t come on, and shut it with a soft click behind me.

The front of the house still looked dark. I cut through a neighbor’s yard to get a look at the back, praying I had made the right choice, that Miller was still inside.

I could see a sliver of light escaping from the bottom of a curtain. Maybe the kitchen. The light blinked for a second and came back. Movement, someone was in there. But was it Miller and Jeremy?

The fence between the yards was a short one, just over a meter high, and I scrambled over it with no problem, adrenaline pushing away any pain I might have felt. I crept to the lit window and put my back against the rough exterior of the house, breathing hard even though I hadn’t exerted myself.

I turned to face the wall, keeping my head below the band of light, and slowly straightened my legs. When my eyes reached the gap of light, it took them a few moments to focus on what was inside.

Miller was strapped to the kitchen table, and Jeremy was cutting away the last piece of his shirt. The rest of Miller lay exposed on the table, already stripped. Jeremy dropped the shirt on the floor and turned around, walking straight toward me. I dropped to my knees, scraping my forehead against the stucco.

The scene inside was eerily similar to what Quincy had tried to do to me. When Jeremy’s shadow left the window, I raised myself up again.

Jeremy was gone. Only Miller remained in the kitchen, struggling against the straps holding him to the table legs. His wrists and ankles had started to bleed, slowly being cut by the zip ties. I looked around the rest of the kitchen as best I could. A doorway led to what looked like a hallway, and I could see the back door leading to the yard. I assumed it was locked. As my eyes scanned the room, I looked at the briefcase sitting open on the counter just to my left. I stood on my tiptoes, trying see into it.

I snapped back with a sharp intake of breath, falling backward against the next house. A dog started barking somewhere close by. I scurried over to a dark spot between two bushes and lay as still as I could.

There was no movement from the house.

The case contained the tools of a madman. When Jeremy started using them on Miller . . .

I couldn’t let this happen. No one deserved what the briefcase promised. Especially Miller. I knew I had to move. The extraction team would be here in about ten minutes. A lifetime spent on the kitchen table. Jeremy’s shadow fell over the window again and disappeared.

Waiting just wasn’t an option.

I stood up and ran to the back door before I had too much time to think about it, and pointed the gun I’d gotten from Frank at the lock. I pulled the trigger, blowing the door open into the kitchen. By the time I ran through, Jeremy was standing over Miller, holding a scalpel to Miller’s neck. He had stuffed the remnants of the shirt into Miller’s mouth.

Jeremy seemed to take it in stride.

“Kris. You never fail to surprise me. Quincy is . . . ?”

“Dead. And you will be as well if you don’t move away from him.” I pointed the gun at Jeremy, the tip of its barrel vibrating in my grip.

“Move? My dear girl, if you shoot, how do know my hand won’t twitch and your boyfriend will be as dead as you want me to be.”

I took a step forward, still aiming the gun at Jeremy’s head. He was right, I didn’t know.

“I would stop, if I were you.” The scalpel pressed into Miller’s neck, and a drop of blood oozed out from under the blade.

“You don’t have a chance, Jeremy. More people are on the way.”

“Then we’d best make this quick, wouldn’t you say? If you let me go, Miller here lives. You prolong this, and he dies.”

I looked at Miller lying on the table. His eyes were closed and his breathing was slow and shallow. It looked like he was holding his head as still as he could. What was I supposed to do now?

“What do you want?”

“I want you to put the gun down. Lay it on the floor and kick it behind you.” Jeremy raised his voice. “Do it now.”

On the table Miller had opened his eyes.

“If I drop the gun, what’s stopping you from killing him anyway?”

“You have my word.”

“I had your word at the warehouse. Do you really believe I think it’s any good?” The tip of the gun wavered a small amount, feeling heavy in my hands. What the hell was I supposed to do? It seemed a litany I had repeated too many times. If I just stood here until the extraction team came, Miller would be dead. If I gave up the gun, chances are we would both be dead. What would Miller do?

“Okay,” I said. “I drop the gun, and you move the scalpel away from Miller at the same time, drop it on the floor and kick it away.” Exactly what he had asked me to do. If he agreed and then tried to make a move, I was pretty sure I could take on an old man. I might be small, but over the last few days, I realized I was tougher than I’d even pretended to be.

“It’s a deal.” Jeremy made a show of moving the scalpel away from Miller and lowering it to the floor as I did the same with the gun. Both weapons touched the floor at the same time and were kicked backward. Jeremy’s ended up in the hallway. I heard the gun hit the doorframe and stop.

I walked toward Miller as Jeremy backed away. I made the last step and pulled the shirt out of his mouth.

“HE HAS A GUN!”

Cold realization hit me like a brick. We were both dead. Jeremy
leaped toward the counter and reached behind his briefcase, emerging with the gun in his hand.

The moment he moved, I ran, willing my legs to move faster than they ever had. I collided with Jeremy before he could bring the gun to bear on me. It fell out of his hand and clattered across the floor, bouncing off the cupboards and ending up under the kitchen table.

I pushed off of Jeremy, diving for the weapon. Before I could reach it, a hand grabbed my ankle and pulled me back to the cabinets. I kicked my legs, breaking the surprisingly strong hold.

My foot made contact and Jeremy grunted. My hand was close to the gun. I lunged forward. My fingers wrapped around the barrel.

My breath exploded from me and pain lanced through my lower back. Jeremy had jumped on me, driving his knees into my kidneys. The gun slipped from my fingers.

Jeremy scrambled on top of me and reached for the gun. I twisted around, driving him into the leg of the table. The leg snapped and the table collapsed. The gun slid from the impact, disappearing under the fridge.

Jeremy continued his roll, moving out from under the weight of the table with Miller still tied to it. He made a move for the fridge, changed his mind, and ran to the scalpel in the hallway.

I moved to the high end of the table, where Miller’s head lay. I knew where Jeremy was going. I had to get to my gun first.

I stood and ran the few steps to the busted door.

“Nooooo.” Miller’s voice. I didn’t have time to turn and see what was going on. One more step and I would have the gun.

I felt a pressure on my back, just below my shoulder blades. The pressure turned to heat, suddenly warm, and then hot and burning. The pain punched through my back to my chest as I ducked and retrieved the gun, spinning on one foot to face Jeremy and Miller again.

Jeremy no longer had the scalpel, instead he was running toward me. I pulled the trigger and the wall over Jeremy’s shoulder exploded.

My world slowed to a crawl as Jeremy took another step closer. How the hell did I miss at this range? Another shot rang out from behind me, and a small red spot appeared on Jeremy’s shoulder.

I spun again, facing the new gunman. He twisted the pistol from my grip and ran into the room, followed by four others. Three of them scanned the house, and I heard shouts of “clear” with every room they passed through. One pulled me out of the house to a black van with no lights sitting in the back lane. The others stayed behind, and I saw one of them approaching Miller with a knife in his hand before my view was cut off.

I screamed and struggled, kicking the man who held my arm, the shock of the last few seconds wearing off. They were after Miller.

“Hey, quit that. We’re from ACE, we’ve got to get you and Miller out of here.”

I stopped struggling as Miller ran out of the house toward us, a surgical gown wrapped around his waist. He was followed by one of the men.

I was pushed into the back of the van, followed almost immediately by Miller. One of them jumped in and slammed the door shut. The other got into the front seat.

“Move!”

The van took off like a rocket, its electrics almost squealing with the sudden input of power. We whipped out of the back lane and onto a quiet street, slowing down to legal speeds. The exterior lights came on, followed by reddish dim interior ones.

“Call Ops, tell them the mission was successful and we left two behind for cleanup.” He turned and looked at me. “You got very lucky.”

I just stared at him.

“Turn around.”

“Why?”

“Do as he says Kris, they’re on our side, remember?” Miller said.

I turned and the searing pain burned between my shoulder blades again. I turned back. The man held a scalpel in his hand; the tip and part of the shaft had blackened.

“You’re a lucky girl. The black box stopped this from severing your spine. A few centimeters lower or higher, and you might not have been here.”

The black box. I had gotten so used to wearing it I forgot it was even there. “Can . . . can they track me now?”

“Nah, the van’s shielded. You’re okay in here.”

“Do you have another one we can put on her?” asked Miller.

“Nope. Even if we did, I couldn’t do it. The old one is melted into her back, and I don’t want to move it.”

I suddenly felt lightheaded. The pain in my back tripled now that I knew its source. I could almost feel the plastic drip down and burn more flesh.

“Doc Searls is the closest, if we can get him back,” Miller said.

“He’s already waiting for us.”

Miller leaned into me, concern in his eyes, and rested his forehead against mine. “We’ll be fine. Just a couple more minutes, okay?”

I nodded. I barely felt the needle slide into my
arm.