by JC Hay
Before they could get into position, she charged. The guards panicked and fired wildly, bullets ricocheting off the floor into crates around the warehouse. She dropped low and kicked the feet out from under the first guard, followed the spin around in a high kick that took the other right behind the chin. Before the first could recover, she’d finished the attack by dropping her leg in an ax-kick that bounced his head off the concrete. Both guards lay still.
Her bodycomp flashed a warning that her adrenaline levels had spiked dangerously high.
No shit.
She’d worry about the side effects later. Ideally, Na’im would have some ideas for how she could bleed off the excess. For now, she needed to find a way to deal with the janitor.
The giant lumbered toward her, one hand bracing the elbow she’d dislocated. As she watched, he tugged on the arm and re-seated the joint with an understated fleshy pop. Elise winced in sympathetic pain, knew from experience how badly the joint must hurt. The janitor barely grunted. She couldn’t help but wonder which mods he carried, allowing him to shrug off pain that would have left her crippled.
Elise dropped and grabbed a knife from one of the guards, then ran. As she expected, the janitor followed her. Her mind raced to come up with a way to stop him. She dodged among the crates, trying to buy some time for herself, and more importantly, draw him away from Na’im.
She jammed the knife into a crate and used the blade to slice open the zip ties on her wrists. She rubbed the blood into her sore hands a moment, before the sound of steady footsteps sent her running again. Hide and seek would only distract the janitor for so long. The last thing she needed was for him to wander to the front of the warehouse and vent his frustration on Na’im instead.
“I thought you were supposed to be good at this, Malachi!” She remembered the name Zaahir had called out to the janitor, hoped it would register with him. “You had a blind, defenseless girl in your hands and couldn’t kill her? When word of this gets out, you’ll never get a contract again.” She ran around another corner and paused. “What did you need? Someone to knock me out, too? Someone to pull the trigger for you?”
He smashed against a crate. “Keep running, girl. You’ll wear out soon enough. And when you do, I’ll be there.”
He’d gotten ahead of her somehow, found a shortcut through the maze. He rounded the corner in front of her, his frostbitten smile the only sign of emotion he showed.
Elise returned the smile when she noticed a set of steri-strips holding the fleshy bridge of his nose together. “How’s the face?”
“About to be better than yours. Nothing personal, though. You understand.” His detachment horrified her. And since it was her life he threatened, she damn sure took it personally.
“Of course. Business is business, right?” She jumped up onto the crate next to her, ready to charge across the top. Before she could take a second step, the janitor slammed into the stack of crates. The entire pile collapsed with a clatter of breaking plastic. She screamed out a curse as her feet went out from under her. Her hands instinctively came up to protect her face. Pain lanced through her as she landed on the rubble.
The janitor shook his head, his smile disappearing as he picked his way through the debris. He looked disappointed that the hunt was over, a thought that filled Elise with ice. She forced herself to her feet, grabbed a piece off a broken container and held it like a club. Blood stung her eye as she pointed it at him. “Come on, you big bastard. Let’s see what you’ve got.”
The janitor drew a knife from a sheath on his leg and held it out for her to see. She remembered it from their last encounter—a simple, double edged blade without decoration or artifice. A tool made for a single purpose. He charged forward, the knife arcing up in front of him.
Elise dodged to one side and brought her club down on his shoulder. Her arms rang as though she’d slammed it into the concrete floor.
He slashed out again, forcing her to jump out of his arc. The broken crate beneath her shifted and she lost her footing, stumbled to one knee.
He grinned and stepped forward.
Light exploded in the front doors of the warehouse, and a spray of automatic gunfire cut above her head, sending her diving to the floor. “Everyone drop your weapons! LifeGuard! Continued action will be perceived as a hostile threat to our personnel and appropriate measures will be taken.”
Na’im dove for cover and checked the main entrance. Jalila’s case lay on its side, camera searching for the corporate services agent, or anyone else who could right it and provide a bit of dignity. Behind her, a full squad of LifeGuard troopers set up a perimeter while two medics swept toward Grigol’s lifeless body.
Na’im shook his head, smiling. Nice to see the traitor turned out to be good for something. He used the enforced pause to plan his next move. The American agent had frozen against the crates on the opposite side of the open space, watching with a calculated smile as LifeGuard loaded up Grigol’s body. Between the hole punched through his chest and the amount of blood on the floor, Na’im doubted the Georgian would be making any surprise appearances in the future. Unlike Jalila.
The American stared straight through him, his smile an icy threat. Neither of them wanted to risk moving while LifeGuard operated—they were paid to secure their clients and had no hesitation in using firepower to do so—but the emergency medical team wouldn’t be there permanently.
They both noticed the pistol at the same time.
It rested near a stack of crates, almost halfway between them. As he calculated his chances of getting there before the agent, the LifeGuard medics lifted Grigol’s body. Time’s almost over. His entire body became a series of tight wires, bracing for action.
The LifeGuards returned to their waiting gyrocopters with Grigol’s body in tow. As soon as they stepped away from the door, Na’im charged for the gun. He saw movement in his peripheral vision as the American left at the same time. The agent smiled as he figured out he would reach the pistol first. Fortunately, Na’im had other plans. As the agent slowed to pick up the weapon, Na’im launched himself forward and drove both of his feet into the agent’s injured knee.
The BioSplint screamed as all its alarms triggered at once, and the agent joined in on the chorus. Painkillers and nutrient plasma came out in a spray as the splint gave way, and Na’im felt the agent’s leg buckle as the half-healed joint followed suit.
The agent collapsed, clutching his leg and screaming profanity in English. Na’im searched the agent and tossed the Taser out through the main door, then walked over and picked up the pistol. The weapon’s comfortable heft made him want to go after Elise, protect her from the murderous giant stalking her elsewhere in the warehouse. That wouldn’t solve the problem, however. At best it would delay the final confrontation.
“Hold on, Elise. Just hold on.”
He turned and walked to the case holding Jalila’s monitor. The camera spotted him, whirred as it adjusted focus. She made an elaborate show of smiling, the expression oddly unnatural turned on its side. “Ah, Na’im baby. Turn us right side up, will you?”
He felt the pull of command, wanted to make her happy and do as she asked. He bit down on his tongue until blood filled his mouth, focused on the pain to keep the compulsion at bay. “Call off the janitor.” Na’im made a show of placing the pistol to the ports on his temple. “Or else.”
“Or else what? You’ll shoot yourself?” She barked out mocking laughter. “You’re fooling yourself if you think the janitor can’t take your arm off from where he’s standing.”
“He’d have to look away from his new playmate to do that, and if he does, she’ll kill him.” He called over his shoulder. “Right babe?”
“Damn right I’ll try.” Her response was tired, in pain and still confident.
His heart felt fit to burst just hearing her.
Jalila narrowed her eyes. “And how do you think this gets to end? I’m not about to let you slink off with my memories. Do you have any idea how m
uch they’re worth?”
“A fifty-one percent stock in Zaahir enterprises, as trading closed yesterday, is two point three billion Euro. So yes, I have a very good idea. So will your competitors, who will be thrilled to learn I’m willing to sell your memories to the highest bidder, which I will do in a heartbeat, if I so much as hear a rumor about you coming after us. Either way, you aren’t getting them.” The plastic squeaked as the barrel cut a gouge into his port covers. “Call. Him. Off.”
He heard a metallic tick-tick, knew her fingernails were tapping the tabletop just off camera. Her smile stretched thin, her eyes too cold to reflect the emotion. She nodded. “I taught you too well. You’ve become a much shrewder negotiator than you used to be.” His programmed flush of pride at her praise disgusted him. “Unfortunately, there are two factors you failed to consider.”
It was his turn to smirk. Her unflappability when bluffing was legendary, part of how Zaahir Amalgamated had grown so rapidly under her direction. “Oh? What’s that?”
“First, to bluff well, sometimes you actually have to be holding the cards. Second, no one else in the building matters to me. Or the company.” She cleared her throat, her eyes shone with mad triumph, her voice crystal clear over the speaker. “Override Jalila Alpha Alpha. Kill everyone else, then meet me at my flat.”
Icy fear flooded into Na’im’s veins and he turned to shout a warning to Elise. Before he could open his mouth, the speaker blared three familiar tones and his mind went blank.
Chapter Ten
E
very part of her hurt. The janitor was wearing her down, piece by piece. She bled from a half-dozen cuts. Her left hand felt like she’d broken it through the reinforcement mesh. Her shoulder screamed that something in the joint had gone wrong. But seeing Na’im’s face go slack as the alternate personality took control squeezed her heart with a pain that washed the others away.
She could hear the American begging Jalila for mercy, trying to bargain with Na’im until an explosion of gunfire cut the plea short. The shots continued until they changed to the dry click of a hammer falling on an empty chamber.
The janitor looked toward the front, a spark of curious interest in his features. He repeated Jalila’s orders in disbelief. “Kill everyone else? Oh I don’t think so, lady. Not before you cut my check.” He looked at her. “Like I said, you and I were business. Your little love doll, though. That’s personal. We can settle up afterward.” He sheathed his knife and stalked toward Na’im.
Elise didn’t stay to watch. She’d seen the cuckoo’s skill up close, and knew the janitor wouldn’t be a danger even as big as he was. She ran toward the back, trying to remember the layout from her foray across the catwalk.
Actually, the catwalk wasn’t a terrible idea. The people left in the building focused on Na’im, and if he came up after her, she could flee down the opposite stairwell. In all, it seemed like an ideal location to sit out the apocalypse.
She heard the janitor howl in agony and shuddered at the broken pain in the sound. For all her effort, she’d barely dragged more than a few grunts from the giant. Na’im had him screaming in under a minute.
Of course, I’m not a psychotic killing machine. That gives Na’im a bit of an edge.
The thought pulled her to a stop, halfway up the stairs. Na’im wasn’t a killing machine either. This wasn’t him, any more than the man who Jalila Zaahir had programmed to love her. The real Na’im had shown himself to her, vulnerable yet strong. Protective, even while he allowed her to be herself. In her many months with Ty, she’d never felt as respected, as loved, as she felt after barely two days with Na’im. Had their roles been reversed, he would do anything to save her.
He had done so already, when he threatened to kill himself rather than let Jalila’s pet janitor hurt her.
She climbed onto the catwalk and spotted them on the floor. The janitor’s right arm bent under him at an angle that guaranteed it had been broken. He tried to pull himself away using his left arm, one ruined leg leaving a smear of blood where it dragged on the concrete. Na’im stepped over him, holding an iron bar he’d found somewhere in the maze of crates. His face showed no more emotion than if he were about to crush a troublesome fly.
She called out his name.
Na’im froze. Even at a distance she could see the white in his knuckles as he tightened his grip on the iron bar. He turned slowly, almost mechanically, and a cruel smile twisted his lip without the emotion ever reaching his eyes. Without a second glance at the janitor, he took off at a run toward the stairs.
Elise swallowed, her mouth suddenly lined with cotton. Well, I wanted his attention. I’ve got it. Merciful God, I hope I know what I’m doing.
The janitor looked up at her and she signaled for him to run for the door. He looked surprised, until she mouthed, “Nothing personal, just business.” With obvious effort, he shoved himself to his feet and smiled at her with blood-stained teeth. The giant threw her a quick salute then limped for the exit, his ruined leg bleeding with every step.
If Na’im heard the janitor trying to escape, he didn’t show it. He stalked up the stairs and started across the catwalk.
Her stomach clenched into a taut ball of fear, and new warnings about her pulse flashed in the corner of her vision. “Let’s just hope I haven’t misjudged him. Or me.”
Na’im leapt forward, landing in front of her with a dancer’s grace and a predator’s smile. He still hadn’t spoken, and part of her wondered if the cuckoo overrode his speech centers, or if the murderous personality simply preferred silence to chatter. She could vouch for the intimidating effectiveness of it, regardless.
“Na’im, you’re stronger than this. It’s your body. Not Jalila’s. Not the cuckoo’s.” As she spoke, she took a step backward along the catwalk in an effort to stay out of range of the iron bar. Elise doubted she’d fair as well as the janitor had.
Na’im surged forward, spinning the bar like a Malay stick-fighter. The air droned around the fast-moving iron like a dirge. Too late, she realized he was testing her response, seeing how far she’d jump. He lunged again.
She charged instead of retreating. Her foot slammed onto the bar. Her muscles fought with the balance compensation wired into her spine as she paused on the bar like a tightrope walker. Elise snapped her other foot into Na’im’s jaw.
He tugged the bar free and she fell to one side. She shoved off the rail, using the momentum to drive a backfist into his cheek. Her shoulder screamed at the exertion, and her hand felt like she’d punched a wall instead.
Na’im shook his head and focused his flat, emotionless gaze on her. Now she could see it, the tiniest sign of tension around his eyes. The only sign she had that Na’im was in there. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.
“Fight it, damn you! You’re better than this. Better than her!” She tensed, waiting for another assault.
He swung the bar again.
She leapt forward to repeat her kick.
His free hand shot out and snagged her by the ankle. He spun and threw her into the railing. Terror screamed through her brain as her balance struggled to compensate, then she went over the rail.
Elise screamed and lashed out with her hands for purchase on something, anything that would keep her from smashing to the concrete below. Her elbow hooked around a support for the railing and the impact to her shoulder made her vision go white with pain. Her hold slipped and she grabbed the support with her fingers. Desperate, she clenched tight, opened her eyes, and looked up.
Na’im stood above her. As demonstration, he held the iron bar over the rail and released it. It took longer than she expected to hit the floor. Elise refused to look down and see what it had done to the concrete below. Gravity tugged with constant pressure on her wrist, strained the muscles in her fingers to the breaking point. Her pulse spiked, and her bodycomp calmly reported that her heart rate was dangerously high. At this rate, he doesn’t even have to do anything to kill me. Just wait for me to fall. Won�
��t be long now.
She swallowed and stared into his face, trying to look through the mask to the man beneath. The man trapped behind the mask. “Please Na’im. I know you’re in there. I know you can do it. I know you’re strong enough.”
He squatted and leaned out between the struts, his face lifeless. No recognition showed in his eyes, and the pain of his absence beat all the abuse she’d suffered so far. Sweat slicked her palm, coated her fingers. She could feel them slipping against the metal.
If he couldn’t be saved, it would be better to die. Terraforming or no, Mars would still feel like a barren desert if she couldn’t rescue him, and wouldn’t be worth seeing without him. She looked up, searched his eyes for any sign of the man she loved. “Na’im, I know you’re in there. Keep fighting her. Keep fighting until you’re free. I love you.” Her grip slipped. For a moment, her damp fingers scrabbled at the edge of the platform. Then she fell.
His hand rocketed out and caught her.
Na’im lifted her to the catwalk, his eyes suddenly filled with all the emotion that had been absent a nanosecond before. Warmth flooded through her, more relieved at his return than at being saved from the fall. He pulled her to his chest, and the relief broke free in a wave of tears. She crushed him in her arms, wished she could melt into him and be part of him forever. He stroked her hair, face buried against her scalp, he whispered the same phrase over and over. “I love you too.”
She turned in his embrace, mouth searching for his. His kiss washed away the pain in her limbs, washed away the last of the fear that had filled her. She broke free of the kiss long enough to look into the warm hazel depth of his eyes. “I knew you could do it.”
He shook his head. “Not me. Us. We did it, together.”
Elise smiled. “I like the sound of that.” She kissed him again, and promised herself she’d never let him go.
Chapter Eleven