Second Guess (The Girl in the Box Book 39)

by Robert J. Crane

  CHAPTER EIGHTY-EIGHT

  Sienna

  “Olivia thinks there's a Thor-type blocking access to the power station's emergency shutdown protocols,” Reed said, looking very seriously at Jamal.

  Jamal blinked out of his e-trance, fingers perched on the edge of his phone. “Okay. Lemme–” He jerked bolt upright. “Well. That was quick.”

  “Don't leave us in the dark here,” Augustus said. “What'd you find?”

  “There's definitely a Thor blocking access to the power station's emergency protocols,” he said, and he seemed to be steeling himself. “And if you'll excuse me...” There was a flash of lightning in his eyes, and he smiled, oh so subtly. “I'm gonna have to go kick their ass out.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTY-NINE

  Olivia

  The entry hallway to the nuclear plant was empty, a wide corridor leading to a security checkpoint. Bullet holes riddled the walls, and the air carried the faint smell of gunpowder. Dead security guards and a lone guy in a white lab coat now stained red waited for us at the checkpoint, staring at the ceiling or with faces buried in the floor.

  “This looks pretty conventional so far,” Angel said, striding ahead without hesitation.

  “It looks like guns so far,” I said, hustling to keep up with my fired-up partner. “Why don't you let the person who can reflect bullets lead?”

  She paused, holding her tire iron and rock like they were her own personal sword and shield. “You wanna go first? Be my guest.”

  I took the lead, trying to ignore the other smells that we passed at the security checkpoint. The death smells.

  The corridor went on and came to a dramatic T, with signs indicating various departments. I only had interest in one.

  “Control room is this way,” I said, dodging left at the intersection.

  “How many hostiles do you figure are in here?” Angel asked, huffing only slightly at the pace of our jog. It was light, human-speed, really, because we didn't want to charge headfirst into an armed ambush.

  “How many very angry, very committed people could they get to do a suicide mission like this?” I asked.

  Angel's eyes flashed. “I don't know, but the question itself worries me more than it should.”

  I shrugged. “Well–”

  The first shot took us both by surprise. It wasn't aimed at either of us, nor did it really even come our way. It was a loud thundercrack in a confined space, and it startled me so badly I stopped in the middle of the hallway.

  “Don't come any closer!” someone shouted over the ringing in my ears. The voice came from around the corner. “We've got hostages!”

  Angel froze behind me, which was probably the safest place in the building, unless a very particular kind of ricochet winged around to hit her. “We...we know,” she called. “We've come to negotiate for the release of the hostages.”

  I froze, turning my head slowly to give her an incredulous look. She just shrugged.

  “We...we're not looking to negotiate!” the voice called back. It was weak, a little wavering. Brittle enough to worry anyone who'd watched a hostage negotiation video or two.

  “Want to try and de-escalate this?” I asked.

  Angel looked strained. “Not sure we have time. This place melts down and we're in real trouble.”

  “Is it bad that I didn't even ask about the consequences?” I looked her right in the eye. “We just came busting right in, didn't even see about what kind of damage was in the balance if we screwed this up.”

  “Doesn't make much sense to dwell on it, does it?” she asked. Then, raising her voice, she called, “You sure about the negotiation? We could offer you some...uh...attractive incentives?”

  I cocked my head at her, my eyes wide, nearing panic. “'Attractive incentives?'”

  “I tried to sell cars for like, a week, when I was on the outs with the restaurant business,” she hissed. “It's all I know about talking to stressed-out people!”

  “Other than waitressing?”

  “It's called 'serving' now, okay? Get with the times.” She snapped her head back around. “Forget it. Bounce around there and take this guy out, will you?”

  I shrugged. “Step back.”

  She did, and as soon as she was clear I angled my personal reflective bubble against the floor and triggered a momentum reaction that sent me launching forward like a pinball out of the spring launcher. I flew into the T intersection and had less than a quarter second to analyze what I saw.

  A hostage, bleeding from the scalp.

  A terrorist, pointing a gun at the hostage's head.

  Another, just behind him, staring in complete surprise at me.

  My personal bubble bounced against the wall, and I triggered the reaction at the perfect angle, launching myself at the terrorists at over a hundred miles an hour. I shot between them, triggering my bubble as I did so, and as soon as I was sure that A) the hostage was not in the bubble and B) the terrorist with the gun to the hostage's head had pulled the weapon back in surprise at my sudden appearance in front of him a second earlier.

  The bubble pushed them out with violent force, shoving everything in a two-foot zone around me away.

  One terrorist hit the wall in front of me at a hundred miles an hour, the one behind me – who'd had the hostage – was launched down the corridor twenty, thirty feet until he rolled to a stop. There were sounds of definite bones breaking, but as he came to rest, he tried to stand, pointing his gun, wobbly–

  A rock cracked him in the side of the head, bouncing off. He fell over, and Angel stepped into view, kicking aside his gun and catching the rock as it fell back down, perfectly, into her hand.

  “Holy hell,” the hostage squealed. His voice was high and he looked like he was about to pee himself. “Where did you two come from?”

  “Houston,” Angel said.

  “Florida,” I said, keeping the bit going.

  The hostage made a face, clearly not understanding.

  “Go out that way,” Angel said, pointing back down the corridor. “Way's clear. Cops are waiting outside.”

  “Thank you,” he said, trying to take my hand.

  My bubble activated, launching him back a step. Not too hard – not deadly hard – but enough that he staggered and Angel had to catch him with those reflexes of hers.

  “Go,” she said, tilting him upright and giving him a pat on the ass with her tire iron. She nodded to me, determination in her eyes as she nodded down the corridor. “And you,” she said to me, “we gotta–”

  “I know what we gotta do,” I said, back to the mission, and back in the lead as I broke into a jog down the corridor.

  CHAPTER NINETY

  Francine

  “Whaaaaat?” Francine made a noise of purest frustration in the depths of her throat. “Oh, you have got to be kidding me.”

  Scout caught Isaac's eye; he looked no more pleased about this utterance than Francine, though he didn't verbalize it. Yet.

  “Two of Nealon's little slaves are in the power plant,” Francine said, adding a florid curse to go with it. “They just took out two of our allies.”

  “You said they're trying to cause a meltdown?” Isaac asked quietly.

  “Yeah,” Francine said, eyes darting around, fingers firmly planted on the phone.

  Scout blinked. “How...how bad would that be?”

  Francine paused, considering it. Searching it on the internet, maybe.

  Then she cracked a grin of pure delight. “Miles of destruction. Fallout would be worse, wash all over the tri-state area, killing...well...a lot.”

  Scout felt her eyes go wide.

  “Whoa,” Isaac said, and he paled rapidly.

  “I know, right?” Francine chuckled. “This was a good plan.”

  “Wh – what?” Isaac stiffened.

  She's right, AJ said. Think about that. If you took out the Tri-State area, that's over twenty million people right there. A huge hit to the carbon footprint.

  Scout felt her mout
h move with no words escaping.

  “It's a huge net positive,” Francine gushed. “I – wait a minute.” She stiffened. “No. Noooooo.”

  “What is it?” Isaac asked, looking like he got slapped in the face.

  “Argh!” Francine said. “It's that electric type from Nealon's team!” Her eyes blazed pure hellfire. “He's trying to stop me!”

  CHAPTER NINETY-ONE

  Sienna

  “Oh, baby, oh, baby,” Jamal muttered. I don't think he knew we were all hanging on his every mumbled word.

  Scott sidled over to Reed. All thought of remaining in our seats had gone by the wayside long before this particular wrinkle in the plan had broken loose. We were spectators in a game that was going big and going bad. With a nuclear plant heading toward meltdown in the Jersey City area, the explosion and fallout potential was immense. “You think he's going to pull it out?”

  “'They,'” Augustus corrected. “Olivia and Angel are in this fight, too.”

  “Sucks that we're not,” I observed mildly. I was really warring with myself not to rush over to the door, throw it open and blast out at supersonic speed to see if I could make it in time to assist.

  “We've got about ten minutes before that plant reaches a critical threshold,” Jamal said, eyes flashing with lightning. “I don't know how, but she's initiated a drain of the cooling reservoir. She's cranking that thing up.”

  “Great,” I muttered, then paused, thinking. An idea had occurred. “Hey...Scott?”

  He looked over at me. “Hm?”

  “You can't...feel that water all the way from here, can you?”

  He paused, really gave it a hard moment's thought before shaking his head. “No. Not water I've had no familiarity with. If I'd brushed it with my powers before...maybe. Without that touch...not at this distance.”

  “Damn,” I muttered, glancing again at the door. Reed caught me, and we shared a look. My tension didn't fade a whit, but I said, “I guess it's out of our hands, then.” And that was a hard pill for a control freak like me to swallow.

  CHAPTER NINETY-TWO

  Olivia

  “I think that's the control room,” Angel said. We were on the last turn, and the room ahead was closed, a big metal door standing between us and our destination. There was a big sign that said, CONTROL ROOM just outside, so it wasn't as if Angel was jumping to the world's most unlikely conclusion.

  “They're probably locked up inside with more hostages,” I said, making note of the camera just outside the door. “Think they can see us coming?”

  Angel ducked out around the corner and threw her rock. It soared with perfect accuracy into the camera dome mounted on the ceiling and destroyed it in a shower of metal, glass, and sparks. “Not anymore. Got a plan to deal with the door?”

  I peered at as we hustled down the hall to the big, metal, sealed contraption. “Probably weighs a literal ton,” I said, and brushed my hand over the solid steel once we reached it.

  “Yep.”

  “That's not really an easy thing to move.”

  “Nope.”

  I sighed, then stretched my neck to each side, cracking my vertebrae. Felt good. Then I stretched my hands, popping the joints of my fingers one by one.

  “They're about to trigger a nuclear meltdown that could wipe out New York and New Jersey,” Angel said. “No rush or anything.”

  “Shhh,” I said, taking a knee and easing up to place my cheek against the cold metal door. Through it I could hear an alarm klaxon, and someone yelling.

  “You listening in on them now?” Angel asked.

  “No,” I said, closing my eyes. “I'm making sure no one is directly in front of it.”

  I triggered my bubble, setting it off as hard as I could. The entire wall shook around us, and the door rattled on its hinges, then blew loose, launching into the room as I followed it by only a second or so, propelled by launching off my bubble in the rear.

  Time moved at the same speed whenever I was in flight. My metahuman reflexes required me to make split decisions, without much time to really plan through it. As a consequence, I'd learned to do some things by gut. By instinct.

  As I flew into the control room, I passed the steel door, which had just bounced off the far wall. As it entered my personal space – I had altered course to miss it by a foot or better – I lined up so that one of the terrorists who was raising his gun toward the open frame was just between me and the flying door–

  WHUMP.

  The door smashed into him, trashing both terrorist and the console behind him and turning the immediate area around him red. I tried not to look at the consequences of my actions, instead launching into a backflip and caroming off the wall as I lined up my next shot.

  A quick count told me there were six terrorists left. All masked. All carrying guns. Some big guns, slung over their shoulders. Some pistols. They were spread around the control room in a terrible pattern, four hostages easily recognizable because half of them were dressed in the clothing of security guards, the other half like civilian office workers. The terrorists were all in black, as if they'd dressed for a rave.

  I plowed into one of the terrorists and kneed him in the back. He made a desperate “OOF!” sound and I activated my bubble, launching him into one of his buddies. I had no time to be gentle with a nuclear meltdown on the line, and tried to ignore the sickening crunch of bone the collision produced as I bounced backward toward my next target.

  With a backflip and a gentle push of my bubble, I shoved a hostage down as another terrorist opened fire at her. She hit the ground with a little more oomph than I would have preferred, her bold, red dress billowing out on impact. The smack of flesh made me feel bad for her.

  But not as bad as I would have felt if she'd gotten shredded by the bullets that were now racing toward me.

  Flaring my bubble, I blew the bullets back to their point of origin, hitting the terrorist that had fired them and sending him reeling over. With an upside-down kick I planted another terrorist. This one had been standing behind the hostage I'd just floored and was already adjusting his aim down to compensate for my flattening her out of the way.

  He flew. He flew...so far. I tried to ignore the noise he made as he smashed into a reinforced window that looked out on the reactor, but it was...so loud. And so gross.

  Another sickening noise made me turn as I landed on my feet. Angel had come in right after me, throwing her tire iron. It had made impact on a terrorist's skull as he was turning to deal with me. Then it bounced right back to her hand like a boomerang.

  “Wow,” I said, but had no time for anything else. Reflex types and their muscle control. Amazing.

  “Behind you,” Angel said calmly, throwing the rock past my head. It flew past like she'd fired it from a cannon.

  Another sickening noise as I activated my bubble and bounced upside down, heading left toward the nearest wall. I saw the rock smash a masked terrorist in the face and looked away. Couldn't unsee the spray of blood that resulted, though, as the rock bounced off his face and straight into another terrorist's chest. He bent double, issuing a loud, “OOF!”

  I swung back around and launched him into the far wall with a violent crunch, cringing as I did so. When he was down, I killed all my momentum and landed gently, keeping my eyes up, up off the floor, so I didn't have to reflect on the mess Angel and I had just made of our fellow human beings.

  “Hey, Agent Li, we're clear,” Angel said into her cell phone, then tossed it back into her pocket. She sauntered over to a console where one of the terrorists had been and took it in with one glance.

  “What's it say?” I asked, easing up behind her to see for myself.

  “I don't know,” she said, staring at it intently. “Hopefully the experts will be here soon to tell us.”

  CHAPTER NINETY-THREE

  Scout

  “He's fighting me!” Francine said, gritting her teeth.

  “How?” Isaac asked, easing down next to her. She'd plopped onto
the floor, concentrating, phone held tightly in hand.

  “I don't know!” Francine shouted, voice rising. “I have primary access! A clear path! I...was...here...FIRST!” and with that, she shouted, anger turning to exultation. “YES! I locked him out!”

  Isaac stared down at her, and he forced a smile. Scout watched, wondering why he wasn't happier about this, but she did not speak it aloud. “Can you,” he said, “uhm...keep him out?”

  “Maybe,” she said, still concentrating. “He's trying pretty hard. And he's really good,” she breathed. Closing her eyes, she lifted her chin. “But I might just have him beat now...”

  CHAPTER NINETY-FOUR

  Sienna

  “She's got me locked out,” Jamal said, shaking his head.

  “Our people are in,” Reed announced, looking up from his cellphone. He nearly banged his hip into one of the swivel chairs in the Gulfstream's cabin as he came over to Jamal. “Is there anything they can do from the console in the control room? To help you, I mean?”

  “No,” Jamal said tightly, looking straight ahead, still in his trance. “Whoever runs this power station has automated it to try and avoid being caught in a bind by a terrorist event like this. But their cybersecurity isn't intended to hold back a meta who jacks right into the system.” He seemed to relax a moment, then refocus himself. “I'm on a weak connection here. Hers ain't much better, but she was there first. I need...I just need...need something to break her hold...distract her, even...”

  I stared down at my own phone, conjuring up a contact from the list and tapping out a quick text message. I hit send while everyone else was fixated in silence on Jamal.

  Or so I thought. “What did you just do?” Scott asked me, his eyes narrowing, lips slightly parted.