“It’s not possible!” The doctor’s eyes were wide.
“Da. Is very possible.” Volk shrugged, then grabbed the doctor with his other hand. He hefted the man above his head, then dropped him down onto a bent knee, breaking the man’s spine. Adalia screamed, and Volk turned as if seeing her for the first time.
“Two children? For me?” He licked his lips, then grinned. “This is good day. Very good day.”
“You will not!” said Elsie.
Volk stopped, eyes wide in surprise. “I’m sorry. I’m not sure I hear. Many guns.” He gestured at his ears. “I think you tell me to stop.”
“Yes.” Elsie almost crossed her arms across her chest, but stopped herself in time. Such a defensive stance wouldn’t be helpful here. “I told you to stop.”
Volk walked over to her. “Ah. You are the one Spencer speaks of.”
“Spencer?” Elsie looked Volk in the eyes. “You’ve seen the traitor?”
Volk’s head went back as he laughed, the sound coming from his belly. “Traitor. Da. I have seen him. He thinks to have the gift.”
“As do I.”
“So. We all want gift. Reminds me of old saying.”
“What saying is that?” Elsie jutted her chin at him.
Volk stepped closer as he spoke. “Everyone want go Heaven. No one wants dead.”
She snorted. “You don’t have to die. It’s just a virus.”
“Is that so?” His eyebrows arched. “You Amerikantsy. You think you have all the answers.”
Elsie waved at the chair where Adalia was. “We’ve got it. Extracted it from blood. We just haven’t quite refined the transmission route.”
“‘Transmission route,’” he said, making air quotes. “You try to inject it, yes?” He mimed pumping a syringe with his thumb and fingers.
Elsie looked him up and down. “What of it?”
“Is old news. Has been tried.” Volk shrugged. “Is not virus.”
“It is a virus!” Elsie gestured at the chair again. “We’ve got it right there!”
“No. Gift is not virus. Virus you find? It was made by our doctors.” Volk shook his head. “In Soviet Russia, we have many smart men. They try to control. Want to make many soldiers, strong as others. But you need leash. Before giving gift to others, da? It is a poison.” He spat.
“They don’t have our science.”
“No. Science no help.”
Could it be true? If it wasn’t a virus, then what? “You’re mistaken. You’ve infected another.”
“Da. My mistake.” Volk grinned. “Usually I am more careful. It was the silver, yes? Hurt my head. I could not think straight.”
“But you’re thinking straight now?” Elsie looked around the room. Birkita was coming around, shaking her head, still woozy from the hit. “Perhaps we can come to an arrangement? If you would just—”
“No. No arrangement.” Volk ran his finger across his throat. “You bind me with silver, try to kill me. The pain, it is terrible. For that, you will die. You,” and here he gestured at Birkita and Adalia, “And all you love. I will kill you all. You will not get the gift. I will not bite. I will tear.” He made twisting motions in the air with his hands. “Then I stack you. Is neat. Is orderly. Then … I think I will go see a movie.”
“No.” Valentine Everard stood in the doorway. “Not today.”
Elsie looked down at Adalia’s toy, the pony partially hidden under the metal chair. Sometimes wishes do come true.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
The door slammed shut, Carlisle’s bullets thudding into the frame. A moment of quiet sat in the air, thin and tentative like morning mist.
“Wait!” Carlisle coughed in the cordite smoke. She saw Kendrick stop struggling — no, Miles stopped struggling: Kendrick had been dragging him slowly across the lobby before Carlisle’s shout. Kendrick’s fear had made her reckless and strong, which was a bad combination. Carlisle had seen too many cops go down in a hail of gunfire because they’d been too careless, thinking they were bulletproof. Heck, some of them had even had a vest. Against sustained fire, Carlisle’s experience was it made little difference.
Carlisle wore a vest anyway. A little difference was better than no difference.
The magazine spat out of her sidearm, clattering against the floor of the lobby. It spun away as she locked another one in place. The handle was warm against her hand; she’d fired it more times today than she remembered firing in the rest of the time she’d owned it.
The quiet was broken by a couple of answering rounds from the other side of the door. The handle blew out, metal fragments scattering across the lobby.
Kendrick shoved Miles off her; they were to Carlisle’s right. His hands were held up, palms out. “Hey, I’m just—”
“I know.” Kendrick was watching Carlisle, not paying attention to Miles. “You don’t need to.”
Carlisle reached the door, putting her back to the wall next to it. She didn’t look at either of them as she spoke. “Yeah. Yeah he did.”
“What?” They both spoke at the same time.
She glanced at Kendrick, then back at the door. The handle had been blown clear out. It was a heavy door, designed to stop fires and God only knew what else. She tested it with her hand a couple times; it didn’t budge. Carlisle looked at the sidearm she carried. Maybe she could shoot the bolt out? “These soldiers aren’t fooling around. You guys need to get it in your heads. This isn’t some movie. Bullets kill.”
“Hey.” John was smiling at her. The man was impossible, of course. “She was just trying—”
“I know what she was trying to do.” Carlisle stepped back from the door, then gave it a good kick. It didn’t even shift in the frame. Damn.
“Your daughter’s not up there. Your…” Kendrick trailed off.
“My friend?” Carlisle cocked her head to the side. “Yeah, my friend’s up there too. And your girl. We’re going to get them both. I promise. But you know what? It’s going to be a shitty rescue if I have to leave you two dead in the lobby.”
Miles laughed. “I didn’t know you cared, Melissa.”
“I don’t. It’s the paperwork.”
Kendrick nodded, a tentative grin tugging her face. “You guys are still using paper, right? Triplicate?”
“Triplicate.” Carlisle looked around the lobby. There was another set of stairs on the opposite side of the elevator. “Let’s try the other stairwell.”
“That one locked?” Miles walked over to her, taking in the holes in the lock.
“No, I just don’t think the door’s the right shade of beige.”
John just smiled at her. “Fair enough. What about—”
The other stairwell door crashed open, gunfire and the promise of death coming from it. Carlisle saw Kendrick move, duck fast and quick behind a pillar as the bullets tore around her. Chips of plaster were flying through the air. Carlisle could see Kendrick’s mouth open in a scream that was drowned out by the hammer of guns. Her own sidearm was already up. Carlisle saw the lobby desk that Spencer had been behind; she pushed Miles towards it as she strode towards the other doorway, gun held in front of her as she fired.
The brass shells spun as they ejected from the side of her gun, the sound of it firing lost over the larger automatic weapons firing from the stairwell. It’d be lucky if she hit anything.
A man stepped through, and one of her rounds caught him in the side of the neck. She followed the body down with her gun, still firing until the weapon clicked empty. Carlisle ejected the magazine, still walking forward, pulling another from her belt and slapping it in, and she was firing again. Another man — this one’s a bit more cautious — pointed the barrel of his rifle out and fired in her direction. She didn’t slow her momentum, just changed direction to push herself up against the wall. The muzzle flash of the soldier’s weapon was bright as a sun, the star burst pattern etching on her retina. His weapon clicked empty, and she ducked through the door of the stairwell.
Carlis
le’s free hand grabbed the fore grip of his weapon, pushing it against the face of another man to her left. Her sidearm came up under the first soldier’s helmet and fired twice, then she kicked the body away. Another man — that’s three — was crouched on the stairs, a fresh magazine almost in his weapon. Carlisle put her right foot on the man’s knee to her left, using it to boost herself up, her left knee cracking into the man’s helmet. He fell backwards into the wall, and the man on the stairs fired, but she was already moving past the line of fire, her sidearm swinging through the air over the top of the man’s rifle and clocking him in the helmet.
The man jerked, his rifle firing wild, and she knocked it further clear with her other hand. Carlisle pulled her own gun back and fired point blank into the man’s helmet three times. Without pausing, she spun on the man she’d knocked into the wall, and emptied the rest of her magazine into him. Her weapon clicked empty, and she ejected the magazine. Smoke curled from the barrel of her sidearm, a lazy haze rising up into the air of the stairwell.
She stood still for a few moments, listening. Her hearing was probably shot to hell, but you had to try, right? Her hand found another magazine from her belt, pushing it into her sidearm.
“You good?” It was Miles from outside the stairwell.
“I’m good.” Carlisle looked at the men around her. “It’s clear.”
“Jesus fucking Christ.” Miles coughed at the smoke. “You are your own team, you know that?”
“What?”
“Three on one. And they had guns. Big guns! I’ve heard that size matters.” He nudged a rifle with his foot, as if it was a snake, then grinned at her. “Not that that I’ve had any complaints, you know?”
Carlisle sighed. “Big guns have no class.”
“No class?”
“None. Also, fighting house to house, like this? You can’t swing it around worth a damn. These guys couldn’t get a bead on me.”
“It’s not because you’re awesome?” Miles looked around her. “Not just a little bit?”
That coaxed a grin from her. “Like I said. Krav Maga—”
“Yeah, yeah. Kung fu. I get it.” Miles looked back through the door. “Danny? You okay?”
“I…” Kendrick’s hand came around the edge of the pillar, feeling its way up the cracked edge. “Yeah.” She stood up, walking towards them.
Carlisle nodded. She was lucky — she knew that. In this situation, a couple of civilians was bad news. It was the sort of thing likely to get you killed. These two, though — well, they had it together. They hadn’t cracked. No one had even thrown up at the sight of a body, which had to be a first.
Kendrick was kneeling down by one of the bodies, unstrapping the helmet. It was the one Carlisle had shot under the chin.
“Uh, I wouldn’t do that.” Carlisle reached down, but Miles’ hand stopped hers. He shook his head.
The helmet came free. What came out was messy but still recognizable. Kendrick was turning the man’s face this way and that. She said, “What do you suppose made him want to do this?”
“Do what?” Miles had taken a step closer, then stopped.
“Try to kill us. Why are they shooting at us?” Kendrick was still staring at the man’s face. “I didn’t know this man. I didn’t do anything to him.”
“No.” Carlisle looked up the stairwell. “But he did something to you, didn’t he?”
“Yeah.” She stood up, her face grim. “And I’ll kill them all for it.”
Miles threw a glance sideways at her. It said, What the fuck?
Carlisle stood still for moment. “Why do you say that?”
“Come on.” Kendrick nodded around her at the bodies. “You’re in the same boat. I don’t know any cops who go in firing. You’re like Chuck Norris or something.”
“No one can be like Chuck Norris.” Miles shook his head. “One day Norris was vacationing in Hawaii, right? Did a light workout. A couple guys followed him. It’s now called the Ironman Triathlon.”
“I’m serious.” Kendrick looked between them both. “That’s what we’re doing, isn’t it? We’re here to kill them all.”
Carlisle stared at her, then nodded slowly. “Yeah.”
Miles looked at Kendrick, then at Carlisle. “Wait. What?”
Kendrick touched his elbow. “You know it’s true, John. They’ve got your friend up there. Valentine.” She paused on the name, swallowing. “Whatever it takes.”
Carlisle looked at her sidearm. “I’m pretty sure they’ve killed Vince. My partner. He was a … well. He was an adequate cop at best, but he was my partner. And he was a good man. He tried his best to speak for the dead.”
“They’ve got Adalia. And my…” Kendrick swallowed again. “My Valentine.”
Miles leaned against the wall. “Okay.” He leaned down, snaring a rifle from the floor. “They’ve got my friend. But you know what?”
Carlisle shook her head. “No. What?”
He checked the weapon, clearing the breach. “I know they’ll keep coming until they get what they want. And that shit’s just got to stop. So I’m with you guys.” He held his hand out, palm down.
Carlisle put hers on top of his. Kendrick put hers on Carlisle’s. John said, “Hut.”
“What?” Kendrick looked at him.
“Don’t tell me you don’t watch TV.” Their hands fell awkwardly apart.
“I watch TV. I don’t watch bad TV.”
“Oh, it’s like that, is it?” John shook his head. “It’s football. It’s what they say. You know. Hut-hut-hut.”
“It’s older than that.” Carlisle started up the stairs, holding her sidearm pointed up. “It’s from the Roman legions. It means, ‘to execute.’”
“You watch the History Channel, don’t you?” Miles talking from the bottom of the stairs still, checking the dead men for something. Carlisle looked back and saw Kendrick following close, the crossbow held at the ready.
“No.” Carlisle fired her weapon twice as a head looked out and over the railing above her. There was a clatter and a rifle spun past her down to the bottom.
“Christ!” Miles looked after them. “Stop dropping shit. That one almost hit me. What do you mean, ‘No?’”
“I mean no.” Carlisle looked at the landing number — 3. Five floors to go. “My father was in the military. Loved all that stuff.”
“I’m not surprised.” Miles had started up after them but his voice still sounded distant a couple of floor behind.
Carlisle ducked back from the railing as a salvo of fire rained down. The bullets from above pocked the metal stairs. She held her hands up over her head as bits of metal and concrete spat about them. The guy almost had a bead on her, and she clambered up the stairs, falling to all fours as the bullets hit around her. Carlisle felt a tug as a round pegged her vest — too close, too damn close — and she scrambled up faster. She needed cover, had to get to a corner to get out of this shit storm coming down—
There was a twang close by, and the firing stopped. Carlisle opened her eyes to see Kendrick pulling the crossbow’s bowstring back. After a moment, a black clothed body fell tumbled past them down the stairwell.
“Jesus!” Miles’ voice was still a little below them. “Can you guys cool it for a second?”
“Not unless you want to die.” Kendrick put a bolt in the crossbow.
Miles rounded the stairwell. “Okay, fair enough.”
“What kept you?” Kendrick eyed him up and down.
“Last minute shopping. Let’s go.” He patted his pocket.
“We were waiting for you.” Kendrick nodded at Carlisle. “You good?”
“Thanks.” Carlisle checked the hole in her vest. A little red was seeping through — the round had done more than hit the vest. There wasn’t any pain, and she was damn sure there wasn’t enough time to take the vest off to check the damage. It didn’t feel bad, not like the shot at the station.
Miles looked at her. Was that genuine concern in his face? “Did you get hit?
Look, you stay here—”
“And what?” Carlisle gestured with her sidearm. “My score’s a lot higher than yours. You’re not doing a great job of convincing me you can handle yourself.” She patted the number 4 on the stairwell door next to her. “Four more floors, Miles. You get four floors to catch up.”
He held out a hand to her. “Fair enough. But you’ll need to stand back. Let me work my magic.”
Carlisle used his hand to get to her feet. She swayed a bit, putting her hand on the wall. “You know—”
“Save it. See if you can keep up.” He turned that smile on her again, but it was dimmed a shade by concern. She wondered what he could see in her face.
“Really. I’m fine.” Carlisle stumbled, and Kendrick caught her.
“Sure.” Miles nodded to Kendrick. “I know what chicks mean when they use the word, ‘fine.’ It’s one of those words that doesn’t mean what you think it means.” He hefted his rifle, then started up the stairs ahead of them.
Carlisle’s felt a burning from her side, like a road rash from a bike accident she’d had years ago. Her hand came away sticky and red. She switched her sidearm to her left hand as they climbed higher.
“How you holding—” Whatever Miles was saying was lost in the confusion as a soldier walked out onto the stairwell in front of them. The man was as surprised as they were. No one moved for a couple of heart beats.
“Hey.” Miles nodded at the man. “Where’s the medic?”
“The what?”
“The medic.” Miles’ tone was exasperated. “We’ve got an injured man here.” He pointed down at Carlisle and Kendrick.
“Uh—”
“Look. What’s your name, son?” Miles walked higher on the stairs to stand next to the other man.
“Uh—”
“Private Uh, is it?”
“No sir!” The man snapped straight, clearly deciding that whomever Miles was, he knew what he was about, and that meant officer. “Private Witherling, sir!”
“Witherling.” Miles sniffed at the man’s name. Carlisle could only watch, her pulse pounding in her temple, as Miles clapped the man on the shoulder. “Witherling, we’ve got an injured man.”
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