The Seraphim Sequence: The Fifth Column 2 (45 page)

‘Move out,’ Sophia said.

Denton handed the silicon fingerprint to Grace. In return, she gave him her last EMP grenade, in addition to the EMP device he had taken. He slipped the small grenade into a pouch on his vest.

When it was just Grace and Damien left in security command, Grace used the fingerprint to seal the door shut again.

‘Still deciding if it’s a good or a bad thing that we’re sealing ourselves in the OpCenter’s security station,’ Damien said.

Jay and Nasira reached the newly constructed hotel plaza, just south of Jeppesen terminal. The ceiling was a gleaming white ribcage that arched eighty feet over their heads. The speckled white floor extended seamlessly onto the rail platforms for the connecting train line. When the trains arrived, they’d slot themselves neatly into the plaza floor, but for now the platforms were empty. Beyond them Jay could see the skyline and the train tunnel beneath it. No sign of SWAT or military here. That was good.

On his left, two sets of escalators led to the upper plaza. He walked up one, taking the steps two at a time. Nasira followed him. The upper level looked like something out of
Star Trek
, although Jay would never admit to watching it. It had the same ribbed white ceiling, a centerpiece fountain and an ultra-wide viewing port that looked out onto the city of Denver.

‘Freeze,’ a voice said from above.

Jay peered up the wide curling staircase. A cluster of carbines were pointed in his direction. A squadron of Abraham’s men. They lowered their weapons when they recognized him and Nasira.

Jay moved with Nasira up the stairs toward them.

‘We have Aviary, she’s safe on level four,’ a squadron member said.

‘Do you have any EMP grenades?’ Nasira asked. ‘Incendiary grenades, anything?’

The squadron leader shook his head. ‘Two have M320s, a few rounds. Why?’

‘We have a fuckload of Liberators coming our way,’ Jay said. ‘That’s why.’

The squadron leader looked confused. ‘What the hell are they?’

‘You don’t want to know,’ Nasira said.

As soon as Jay reached the upper level—the hotel lobby—he looked around for something they could use, anything.

Nasira said to the squadron leader, ‘Can you make a tripwire?’

He rapped his knuckles across his M4 carbine. ‘I can do that and more. 10th Special Forces Group, twelve years,’ he said. ‘Name’s Aaron.’

‘I’m Nasira, this is Jay,’ she said. ‘I need you and whoever can help to grab as many fire extinguishers as we can find.’

‘We’ll make it happen,’ Aaron said.

‘We might just survive this yet.’ Nasira turned to Jay. ‘Any ideas, Einstein?’

‘Where’s the hotel kitchen?’ Jay called out as the squadron split off around him.

One of the men pointed east. ‘Down there, on the left.’

Together, Jay and Nasira ran for the restaurant. There wasn’t much time to waste. In the dining area, there were tables and chairs ready for customers, and the kitchen was new and waiting to be used. Jay searched it for anything that might help them. He found two dozen 22-gallon drums of vegetable oil. He didn’t need to say anything, Nasira knew exactly what he was thinking.

He yelled out to whoever could hear them. ‘We need help here!’

Three men came running, carbines in both hands. Jay steered them toward the two dozen drums.

‘All of these, to the stairs!’ Nasira yelled. ‘Now!’

She disappeared into the bar and returned with bottles of spirits under both arms and a tablecloth draped over her shoulder like a giant scarf.

Jay picked up a drum of oil, lifted it over one shoulder and joined the other men as they ferried them to the stairs. There were five fire extinguishers waiting there, collected by the squadron. Nasira dropped to her knees and started preparing the bottles of alcohol with shredded tablecloth as fuses, while Aaron got stuck into the tripwires with lengths of fishing line. When Jay returned with a second drum, they’d both moved down the stairs to set up the tripwires with fire extinguishers.

‘Guys!’ Jay said, drawing the squadron’s attention. ‘We need to cover the floor down there in oil. Pour from the balcony! Go!’

He opened the valve on a drum and leaned it over the balustrade. The golden oil poured with a satisfying glugging sound to pool on the foyer below. Around him, the rest of the squadron emptied their drums. In less than a minute, they’d coated the floor around the stairs. The oil continued to expand outward, coating half the plaza. Jay moved to a second drum, wishing the spout was larger so it would pour faster. At this rate, it would take them a good ten minutes to empty all the drums.

Aaron was moving up the stairs toward Nasira’s stash of molotov cocktails.

‘Get your men in position, this is our chokepoint,’ Jay told him, pointing at the two rows of escalators the vegetable oil was just starting to reach. ‘Make sure everyone has lighters and molotovs.’

He leaned over the balcony to see Nasira position a tripwire so the fishing line ran in front of the escalators. ‘Nasira, we good to go?’

‘Almost!’ she called back.

Jay heard a thump-thump-thump sound from below. He looked down and saw the hexagonal body of a Liberator bobbing up the escalator. Nasira was still at the top, fiddling with the tripwire. She didn’t even have her SCAR with her.

‘Liberator!’ Jay yelled. ‘Nasira, move!’

The Liberator reached the top of the escalator and snagged the fishing line. A fire extinguisher flared into action, dousing both Nasira and the Liberator in a white cloud.

‘Hold your fire!’ Jay yelled.

The Liberator opened up with deafening gunfire, sweeping across the balcony from west to east and chipping through marble and granite. Jay hit the ground. The EMP had disabled the automatic loader of the Liberator they’d encountered in Concourse C, but this one was wielding a belt-fed weapon. Since the belt was already loaded, the mounted weapon worked just fine.

‘Draw its fire!’ Jay yelled. ‘I can take the shot!’

‘Drawing fire!’ Aaron called from the west balcony.

His shots didn’t go anywhere near the Liberator or Nasira, but were enough to distract the robot. It punched rounds through the balustrade and into the wall.

Jay moved to one knee, adjusted to infrared and sighted the Liberator with his SCAR. The Liberator’s M240 machine gun was pintle-mounted on the side. A short burst from the SCAR and his rounds struck the belt feeder. He ducked again as the Liberator adjusted its aim. A torrent of 7.62mm rounds decimated the balustrade around him.

He crawled south along the balcony, seeking more cover. The Liberator had stopped firing. He risked a glance and noticed the belt feeder had been smashed clean off the machine gun. Nasira was ten feet away, sliding across the oil-slicked floor, weaponless.

A second Liberator clambered up the escalator and headed straight for her. Jay moved to open fire but this operator was smarter. He washed the balcony with gunfire while advancing on Nasira.

Jay checked the fireteam on his side. Two were seeking cover, surrounded by molotovs. Jay waved them away. Nasira would be caught in the blaze if they lobbed one now. A third was slumped against a pillar, oozing deoxygenated blood from his chest. His M4 carbine had an M320 grenade launcher mounted underneath and he was wearing a bandolier of grenades over one shoulder. The M320 was the successor to the M203 launcher Jay had used many times during his time in Project GATE, but this one looked like someone had glued a submachine gun under the barrel of the carbine, creating some sort of bizarre dual weapon.

Jay wriggled across the floor and snatched the carbine, abandoning his SCAR. He checked the breach on the side, found a 40mm grenade already chambered. It was clumsy to use, and with the electronic targeting system fried he had to line up the Liberator with a separate iron sight on the side of the carbine instead of on top.

The Liberator was almost on Nasira. Too close for Jay’s liking. A third Liberator was climbing the escalator.

‘No, you don’t,’ Jay muttered. ‘Grenade!’ he yelled, mostly for Nasira’s benefit.

He fired the high-explosive grenade. It struck the Liberator front-on and detonated on impact.

The second Liberator, moments away from skewering Nasira, spotted him and launched itself nimbly to the balcony. Jay hadn’t expected the Liberators to have such agility given they were weighted machines lugging heavy support weapons. But the robot landed impressively on the half-destroyed balustrade, ten feet away.

A chill ran through his body. He couldn’t grab another grenade and load it in time. He did the only thing he could do: he tossed the M4 at the Liberator’s head and jumped over the balcony, kicking his SCAR over the side with him, into the fountain below. He landed in a crouch and rolled through the water, stayed low and searched the water for his SCAR.

As he found it, the Liberator launched toward him. It landed on top of the rifle, its legs splayed wide to cushion its fall. Jay rolled backward through the fountain, his back hitting its edge. The Liberator steadied itself and locked onto him. Gunfire blasted from overhead. Jay looked up. The squadron couldn’t fire on the Liberator; he was too close. But someone was firing.

Over his shoulder, he saw Nasira, slick with oil. In any other circumstances, he would’ve been turned on by the sight. She aimed her Glock and punched round after round into the Liberator. The rounds did little damage, even though she was aiming for the sensors. The Liberator closed on him.

Jay tightened both hands into fists, submerged them in the water and rendered his core muscles rigid. His body seized up. He couldn’t move now even if he wanted to. A high-voltage surge traveled from his arms, through the water and up the Liberator’s legs. It jerked in position, then toppled sideways. The side-mounted machine gun smashed against the fountain rim. The stench of burning metal and plastic filled his nostrils.

He turned to check on Nasira, only to see a fourth Liberator emerge from the escalator, take aim and lumber toward them. Its spidery legs slipped on the oil. It tried to balance itself, giving the squadron above precious time to tear its mounted machine gun apart.

Jay rolled out of the fountain as the Liberator crashed into it. It got back to its feet and twisted to face Nasira. She reached out, grabbed the handle of an unused fire extinguisher and swung it like a baseball bat, knocking out one of the robot’s legs.

Jay dived under the Liberator, sliding through the oil. He collected Nasira and pushed them both, entangled, across to the foyer wall. Behind them, the squadron opened fire again. A 40mm grenade struck the top of the Liberator, ripping it apart.

‘Get out of the oil,’ Nasira whispered.

Jay pulled himself to his feet. He turned to help her up, but she was already ahead of him, oil-skating her way around the fountain to the balcony stairs.

A sixth Liberator made its way up the escalators, a seventh not far behind. They just keep coming, he thought as he sprinted after Nasira. He slipped and fell onto his forearms, sliding several feet. He crawled the rest of the way to the staircase, reaching the first step with a mouth full of vegetable oil. Nasira was a few steps up. She reached down with one hand and hauled him up.

‘Molotovs!’ she yelled.

The Liberators swept the balcony with gunfire, then directed their rounds downward, combing the stairwell. Jay spat oil and pressed himself flat against the steps. Rounds cracked overhead, obliterating the foyer wall.

The surviving squadron members smashed a salvo of flaming molotovs down onto the foyer floor, igniting the oil. Jay wriggled up the stairs like a drunk penguin, trying to get clear of the approaching Liberator and the blanket of fire.

He watched the fire engulf everything but the fountain.

***

Jay opened his eyes. The last thing he remembered was crawling up the stairs while the Liberators skittered through the flaming foyer. He rolled over and saw the scorched husks of the robots sprawled like metal spiders across the oil-slicked foyer. A few lingering flames flickered across the surface.

Nasira stood over him. She was covered in oil and looked as disgusted as he felt. ‘Thanks for saving me,’ she said.

‘Saving you?’ Jay said. Then he remembered. ‘Oh yeah, I am pretty awesome.’

She was about to walk away when he grabbed her ankle.

‘Hey,’ he said. ‘Thanks for returning the favor.’

She shrugged his hand off. ‘You’re lucky I find you borderline charming.’

‘Borderline?’ He grinned.

Her eyebrows narrowed slightly. ‘Never thought of you as a pious man.’

Jay realized what she was talking about and tucked his father’s cross back under his vest. ‘It’s my father’s.’

‘Yeah, I know that,’ she said. ‘I gave it you.’

‘He never let me forget,’ Jay said, pulling himself into a sitting position.

Nasira offered her hand. He took it and she helped him up. ‘Forget what?’ she asked.

Jay stared past her at a dead squadron member. The surviving members were downstairs now, carefully searching for surviving Liberators.

‘That I let my brother die. I couldn’t save him.’

‘Hey,’ she said, gripping his shoulder. ‘You didn’t let him die.’

‘I did. And I’ll pay for my sins one day.’

Jay sensed someone approach from behind. He turned but there was no one there.

‘What are you looking at?’ Nasira said.

Jay switched to infrared and immediately saw a figure standing twenty feet away. The shocktrooper uncloaked, his Magpul aimed at them. Together, Nasira and Jay slowly raised their hands above their heads. The shocktrooper tossed a couple of plasticuffs at their feet. Jay turned his head, scanning the balcony around the foyer and picking out three more shocktroopers.

‘You’re a slippery pair, aren’t you?’ the shocktrooper said, smiling at his own joke. ‘Extra tight so you can’t escape.’

Nasira sighed and picked up both pairs of plasticuffs.

Sophia and DC entered the OpCenter’s command and control room from a higher level, stepping out onto a steel walkway that wrapped around the sides of the square-shaped room. Unrailed walkways ran around both sides to the end, dropped seven steps and then eight steps more to the ground floor.

The far wall was concave and filled with an impressive grid of monitors, five by four. The monitors were flanked by two columns of analog clocks showing times all around the world. On the ground floor, four long desks were arranged in a diamond formation, seating six people per desk, three on each side. The staff were unarmed personnel in a mix of air force, army and navy uniforms. No other Blue Berets. No covert security. No shocktroopers. No Elohim.

No one looked up to question Sophia and DC’s appearance. Blue Berets were obviously a common sight. As long as they kept moving and didn’t hesitate or look confused, they would be fine. And that’s what Sophia did, her backpack over one shoulder, her SCAR rifle pointed non-threateningly at the floor. She approached the computer operator on the corner nearest to her and told the woman she needed to check her computer. DC suggested the operator could take a cigarette break while they worked, and she nodded enthusiastically, gathered her ID and cigarettes and departed the room, her heels clicking on the steel steps.

Sophia lowered her daypack to the ground. Without removing the EMP, she armed it and—checking to see that DC had posted himself at the northwest corner—set the timer for fifteen minutes. She needed to allow everyone enough time to get out of the room and begin exfiltrating while the EMPs detonated.

The entrance doors slid open. Sophia looked up at the steel balcony to see two security personnel walk in. Their white uniforms and swords were unmistakable. Elohim.

She considered a casual exit with DC, but that idea evaporated the moment she saw Cecilia, followed by a third Elohim carrying a sword across his back.

Cecilia spoke loudly, addressing all staff. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, I need you to evacuate command and control. Immediately.’

DC tried to move with the crowd, but Cecilia pointed at him. ‘Not you. Security personnel will remain in place. Thank you.’

Sophia watched from under her helmet as another pair of Elohim entered. This time, they brought friends: Abraham and his two men. They were unarmed and bound with their hands behind their backs. The Elohim prodded them down the walkway and onto the ground floor. Following instruction, they sat on leather office chairs, clear of the desks. Sophia remained where she stood at the corner desk, making a quick adjustment to her radio so that it automatically transmitted conversation over the channel.

‘I need you to place your weapons on the ground and sit down,’ Cecilia said. ‘Both of you.’

Five Elohim. Sophia didn’t have any other option right now. She complied, feigning reluctance. She hadn’t said as much to anyone on her team, but she was hoping to be caught. She wanted this. As she sat on a chair and kicked away from the desk, she knew what needed to be done.

She waited for Cecilia or the Elohim to inspect the daypack under the desk, but no one noticed it. That’s a small bonus, she thought.

Cecilia left two of her five Elohim at the entrance doors, which sealed shut again. She walked to the ground floor.

‘To be completely honest, Sophia,’ she said, ‘I wasn’t expecting you so soon.’

‘I got impatient,’ Sophia said.

‘It was a nice trick, detonating the explosives at Peterson Air Force Base. I almost fell for it,’ Cecilia said. ‘I suppose you have your resistance playmates to thank for such a coordinated strategy. It got you this far, at least.’

Sophia watched carefully as Cecilia took the steps to the ground floor and came to a stop in front of her, but not too close. One of the Elohim tossed Sophia some plasticuffs, waiting patiently for her to bind herself. She did so, tightening the cuffs with her teeth. Nearby, DC, Abraham and his two men did the same.

‘Tie their legs to the chairs,’ Cecilia said. ‘Remove their radios. We’re going to be here for a while.’

The Elohim got busy stripping Sophia of her P99 pistol, her belt, radio and knives. Sophia hoped they wouldn’t switch off her radio or discover it was set as voice activated.

‘You’re not going to kill me?’ she said.

‘If I wanted you dead, I would’ve had you killed in Boracay.’

‘You almost did. You killed Freeman, you killed Benito, you killed Schlosser.’

The Elohim placed her pistol, radio, belt and knives on the desk behind Cecilia, unaware of the EMP ticking away underneath.

Cecilia’s eyes narrowed. ‘The scientist? Yes, he had to go. However, Freeman decided to take matters into his own hands.’

‘What do you mean?’ Sophia said.

‘You don’t …’ Cecilia paused. A faint smile crept across her lips. ‘Freeman killed himself before we could pull him in. Such a shame, really.’

‘The shocktroopers killed him!’ Sophia shouted.

‘No, dear,’ Cecilia said. ‘He bit into an ampule concealed inside the filter of a cigarette.’

Sophia bit back tears. She knew about Freeman’s cyanide ampule; he’d shown her once. She’d hoped he’d never have to use it. Nasira hadn’t told her the truth. Freeman had killed himself on her watch.

The Elohim handed Sophia’s radio and knives to Cecilia, who placed them neatly on the desk. She picked up Sophia’s P99 and inspected it.

‘But that’s OK,’ she said with a smile. ‘I have you and DC, and hopefully that’s all I need.’

Sophia needed to find out what Cecilia was getting at, and quickly. ‘What do you need?’

‘I need to know that you’re OK. Do you require medical attention? Are any of your team members hurt?’

Before Sophia could respond, Cecilia aimed the P99 and shot one of Abraham’s men.

Sophia swallowed. She didn’t need to look over to know he was dead.

‘Whatever you want to know, we’ll tell you!’ Abraham yelled. ‘Stop this madness!’

Cecilia ignored him. ‘How large is your team, Sophia?’

‘One less now,’ she said.

‘Have the squadron search the floor,’ Cecilia ordered her Elohim. She aimed the P99 at Sophia. ‘They’ll find them.’

She strode over to Abraham. ‘You’re new. Is Sophia running out of friends?’

Abraham glared at her, but said nothing.

Cecilia hadn’t noticed the EMP inside the daypack yet, even though it was right at her feet. Sophia tried to remember how many minutes remained. Maybe twelve, ten; she’d lost count.

‘Have you been suffering from any unusual symptoms in the last six months?’ Cecilia asked Sophia. ‘Headaches? Blackouts? Dizziness?’

Sophia knew what she was implying. The mystery vial she’d injected herself with.

‘This one time, I bit my tongue,’ she said.

‘You injected yourself with a locator probe,’ Cecilia said.

‘That’s not possible.’

‘A year ago I thought that too,’ Cecilia said. ‘But it turns out our R&D are really ahead of the curve. We have all manner of things to tag people—insect pheromones, thermal fingerprint detection, nanocrystals, all sorts of fun ways to keep tabs on them. But my favorite is the retrovirus. Invisible, microscopic and it can be tracked from halfway around the world. That’s what you injected yourself with.’

‘You’ve been following me the whole time.’ Sophia hung her head. ‘Jesus.’ Her stomach contorted at the thought of Freeman and Benito dying because she’d led the shocktroopers right to them. All this time, she’d been a beacon on the Fifth Column’s radar, flashing a big neon ‘come kill us’ sign for everyone.

She swallowed and pushed those thoughts away. They weren’t going to help her get out of this alive. To do that, she needed something to work with.

‘The word on the street is you’re creating an army of psychopaths,’ she said.

‘No.’ Cecilia shook her head thoughtfully. ‘I think you’re missing the point. Or the
street
has been manipulating the facts, as he is wont to do.’

‘So I’m wrong then?’

‘My interest is only in advancing humanity,’ Cecilia said. ‘We have dark times ahead and we need to adapt to survive.’ She held a vial up to the fluorescent light. ‘This is my gift to you. The anti-Chimera vector.’

‘I’ve heard about that,’ Sophia said. ‘Thanks all the same, but I’ll pass.’

‘I know your pain,’ Cecilia said.

Sophia felt a growl deep inside her throat. ‘But you don’t feel it.’

‘And you don’t have to. Not any more. Do you know what the perfect soldier is, Sophia? The perfect soldier is someone who can do anything and think they can get away with it. And even if they can’t, they
believe
they can.’

‘So it’s an anti-morality drug.’

‘I understand your skepticism, but even you, a part of you, takes comfort in the idea of no longer being tormented by your atrocities.’ She walked around Sophia with slow, measured steps. ‘And you’ve committed a few, to say the least. No one ever walks out of this clean.’ She leaned over and spoke into Sophia’s ear. ‘But why shouldn’t they?’

‘By removing the consequences, you’re cutting out what’s human. Which I suppose makes perfect sense to you.’

‘I wouldn’t waste your breath patronizing me,’ Cecilia said. ‘Look at it this way: if you had a wounded arm that could be treated for infection, would you treat it?’ She smiled at her own cleverness. It made Sophia’s stomach fold. ‘And how is that any worse than a soldier with a wounded soul? If you could disinfect it?’

‘That’s a wonderful paramoralism,’ Sophia said, ‘but it’s pretty much moral lobotomy.’

Cecilia crossed her arms. ‘The moral dilemma isn’t whether the soldier should suffer or not; the moral dilemma is war itself.’

‘And a legion of emotionally neutered soldiers is your answer to that?’

‘Tell me this,’ Cecilia said. ‘A rape victim stabs her rapist with a knife. It’s self-defense. But the doctors have to treat the rapist’s wounds, whether they like it or not. He will be healed, but the victim still has to live with it.’ She wasn’t smiling now. ‘Why should she? Why should the rapist be healed and the victim left to lick her own wounds? Why can’t she have the right to heal as well? Why should her scars remain?’

Sophia shook her head. ‘Somehow I doubt that’s the application you have in mind.’

‘It’s not just that,’ Cecilia said. ‘These soldiers will see more clearly. They will think more logically. Rationally. Unburdened by fear.’ She held the vial between two fingertips and a thumb. ‘It’s exactly what this world needs right now.’

‘Have you seen the world out there?’ Sophia said evenly. ‘What this world needs right now is a miracle.’

‘And it came to you,’ Cecilia said. ‘And you came to me. See? Things do have an interesting way of working out.’

She raised Sophia’s P99 and shot another of Abraham’s men.

Sophia couldn’t stop herself looking over this time. Abraham’s face was a shade paler and flecked with the blood of his men. He stared through Cecilia, not at her.

‘For who can make that straight, which he hath made crooked,’ he whispered.

Cecilia ignored him and pulled up a chair in front of Sophia. The command and control room was unnervingly silent except for the thrum of computer fans.

‘You have something. Something that belongs to me,’ she said.

Sophia had no idea what Cecilia was talking about. She’d have to play along until she figured it out.

‘So I’d like to propose an exchange,’ Cecilia said. ‘Information that leads to the recovery of this will lead to the release of your friends.’

Sophia smirked. ‘I don’t have any friends.’

Cecilia rolled her eyes. ‘At this rate you won’t.’

Under her instruction, one of her Elohim fired his PEP rifle at DC. Plasma exploded over his chest and the pressure wave threw him off the chair and onto the floor. The Elohim hadn’t tied his feet to the chair like they had Sophia and the others. DC screamed in pain, then lay oddly still.

Sophia tried to relax her clenched fists. Cecilia wanted a reaction and she planned to give her as little as possible. DC would be paralyzed for a short time, but he would survive.

Cecilia turned Sophia’s chair around so she could see the monitors on the wall. They each showed the same video feed. A fiber-optic camera fitted to someone’s chest. Nasira and Jay were kneeling on the roof of the hotel. Their wrists and ankles were bound by plasticuffs and they were blindfolded. Their bodies were soaking wet and sagged with exhaustion. Wind ruffled their hair, which was matted with blood.

‘My property for their lives,’ Cecilia said.

‘There’s nothing stopping you from killing them,’ Sophia said. ‘There’s no advantage to my agreement.’

Cecilia whipped Sophia’s chair back so they were face to face. ‘I can always torture it out of you.’

‘No, you can’t,’ Sophia said. ‘I’ll tell you what you want to hear, but it won’t be true. I’ll make up anything just to stop the pain. We both know the purpose of torture and it isn’t to extract intelligence.’

‘Interesting.’ Cecilia sat on the desk and crossed her legs. ‘So what do you propose?’

‘Release them and I’ll take you to your property.’

She still had no idea what this property was or what Cecilia planned on doing with it, but it was all she had for now.

‘There’s nothing stopping you from holding out,’ Cecilia said.

‘You still have my team here. If I hold out, you kill DC and Abraham. You have enough leverage in both camps.’

Cecilia seemed to think on it for a moment. ‘I’m inclined to disagree. You know that I can eventually extract it from you. I don’t need torture. All I need is this vial—the anti-Chimera vector—and a generous layer of programming.’

‘You don’t have the time,’ Sophia said.

Cecilia smiled. ‘Let me guess. The code will be recovered by friends of yours if you’re captured?’

The code
. What code was she after?

Sophia returned the smile. ‘Now you’re catching on.’

‘Where is this code, Sophia?’

‘What do you plan to do with it?’ Sophia countered.

‘You’ll see soon enough.’ Cecilia turned to her Elohim. ‘Tell them to kill one of her friends. Just one for now.’