“It’ll be okay,” Jia whispered. “We’ve got the situation under control. Ambulances are on their way.”
The witness’ statement set Jia’s mind to percolating. The terrorists could have easily sprayed the crowd on automatic to take down more people, but instead, they had carefully fired and aimed. Doubt crept in. A bullet wound was never safe, but if they’d mostly carefully chosen their shots, it might explain why there were no casualties. But that made no sense.
Why would terrorists try to minimize their body count?
Jia frowned as she finished applying a patch to a wounded woman who had been shot in the back. There were enough people with severe wounds that it was hard to believe the terrorists hadn’t intended to kill people, but assuming the ambulances arrived soon, there wouldn’t be any dead citizens.
“Definitely not enough,” she murmured. Something wasn’t adding up. There were too many conflicting facts, and her detective’s brain demanded an answer.
“Three armed men are about to exit the tower,” Emma reported. “About fifteen meters away, at approximately three hundred and fifteen degrees.”
Jia bolted up, her hand going for a weapon. She pulled her gun out of her holster as the three terrorists emerged from the tower and her breath caught. She’d grabbed her slug thrower, not her stun pistol. Without hesitation, she flipped off the safety and fired three times in rapid succession. Screams rang out from a few of the surrounding citizens. The terrorists groaned and fell, each man struck square in the chest.
She swallowed and took deep breaths, her pulse racing. Keeping her gun level, she crept toward the door. “Are there any more of them, Emma?”
“Not that I can detect, but as previously noted, I’m unable to get decent thermal readings other than near the entrance. There could be dozens of troglodytes inside.”
Sirens screeched in the distance. Flashing lights heralded the arrival of ambulances. Loud echoing gunfire rang out from inside the building. Erik might be taking out terrorists, or they might be hunting innocent people.
Jia holstered her weapon and retrieved her stun pistol. “Erik’s sweeping it from one side. If I sweep in from the other, it should ensure that no one else comes out.”
“It’s certainly a strategy,” Emma responded. “Without more information, it’s impossible to know if it’s a sound one.”
Jia shook her head. “My instincts tell me that if I don’t get in there, he’s going to be in trouble.”
“The man with a four-barreled automatic weapon and decades of training?” Derision infused Emma’s voice. “I’m dubious about that.”
“We humans aren’t made of sturdy crystal.” Jia gestured to the approaching ambulances. “The medics will take care of you,” she shouted. “You’re safe now.” She ran toward the door the dying terrorist trio had come out.
Her partner needed her.
Chapter Forty-Four
Erik crouched behind the edge of a stone fountain in the center of the sprawling high-ceilinged room that served as a concourse.
The room linked long, narrow hallways to the theaters and clubs occupying the tower floor. Red emergency lighting struggled with the darkness and left enough shadows to trick his eyes.
Several dead terrorists lay on the ground, the latest victims of his TR-7. Unlike outside, there were no wounded civilians. He wanted to believe the Lady had smiled on the tower that night, but if she had, there wouldn’t be a group of terrorists there.
That left some other explanation.
Why had the terrorists opened fire outside instead of going for easier kills in a more crowded area? Not every building had checkpoints with scanners, and a group with access to EMPs and heavy weapons could probably handle basic tower security with ease.
Jia had complained about them not having enough men outside, but now that he had time to think about it, Erik was more bothered by their tactics than their numbers.
He’d lost communication with Emma, meaning there was a jammer somewhere nearby, but he wasn’t worried about it. Killing terrorists was something he didn’t need an AI to help him with. He had decades of experience at that job and considered himself an expert. That provided some comfort. If he took them all out, the reasons for their odd tactics became irrelevant.
Dead men couldn’t learn from their mistakes.
Erik’s lips pressed together. The Evolved Six were supposed to have a few cells left, not enough men to mount a major multi-tower operation. The CID analysts had screwed up, and now people in Neo SoCal were suffering.
Or had they?
A terrorist with a rifle emerged from a hall to Erik’s left. A burst left the TR-7 and struck the man’s face before he could even shout in surprise. He collapsed to the ground, already dead, his rifle skittering across the white tile, although it looked pink in the dim emergency lighting.
More bad tactics.
Had the terrorists not anticipated such a rapid police reaction? He stared at the dead man and pondered the question.
Jia had stunned men outside, which meant Erik didn’t need to worry about taking any inside terrorists alive.
The more he considered her suggestion about carrying a stun pistol, the more pointless it seemed. Stun pistols and rifles had tactical limitations, including shorter ranges than their more lethal counterparts. You couldn’t shoot a man through a window with a stun pistol, and it wasn’t like he was going to use his TR-7 or even his normal pistol on an unarmed drunk.
Terrorists and heavily armed gangsters understood and deserved the large-caliber rifle bullets.
Erik waited and listened for more terrorists before rising to follow the path of bodies. He’d killed several upon entry, so he made his way toward the shouts and noise to find his last few victims. His plan led him to the concourse, where the bloody evidence now pointed to one of the darkened hallways. The holographic sign that would identify the venue on the other end was inactive.
“What did I expect?” he murmured. “A big sign reading Ghost of Jeanne Caron this way?”
He couldn’t be sure how many men remained alive. If Jia’s instincts were right, the main force might be in the tower. “Great,” he muttered. “Look who is wishing he had a bit of help from the AI now?”
Dying to some desperate Grayhead terrorist was rather far down on the list of ways he wanted to go out.
A high-pitched scream ripped from the hallway, muffled and distant.
Erik surveyed the area, his eyes narrowed. There were too many places for terrorists to hide. His vest wouldn’t save him if a shooter landed a solid headshot, but there wasn’t time to sit around while they killed innocent people. He needed to protect and serve by serving some lead to the killers who dared attack partiers in his town.
He let out a low growl and rushed toward the hallway. He maintained a serpentine running pattern as he rushed across the concourse, the back of his duster fluttering with the quick movement. He arrived at the hallway without terrorist ambushes or sniper shots.
No clever plans, it seemed.
“At least these bastards are easier to handle than swarms of security bots.” Erik looked around, his eyes flitting up before he jogged into the shadowy hallway.
His bootsteps sent a warning echoing forward, but the sound might also draw the terrorists to him and make his clean-up process a bit more efficient. Anything he could do to concentrate the risk on him was worth it.
That scream hadn’t come from a scared terrorist.
Erik stopped and held his breath as he listened for enemies or victims. A faint whine reached his ears, the source farther down the hall. If the terrorists belonged to the Evolved Six, they might be using similar equipment to what he had encountered in Florida.
The coordinated raid by the police meant they were on the defense before, but the terrorists now controlled the situation.
He continued moving forward, keeping his breathing slow and steady. If the terrorists had access to the same kind of gear, that meant he might run into a few missiles or
plasma grenades. Or even something worse.
“Dammit!” he whispered.
They might have been saving their best gear for the biggest target of them all: Neo SoCal.
But that line of thinking raised another question. If the terrorists had missiles, a direct attack on the tower made more sense. There was no reason to hold back with grenades.
Erik frowned. They might be saving them for the TPST. A couple of missiles against a police flitter could save them the trouble of dealing with exoskeletons, and a plasma grenade or two could cover an escape.
The inconsistency gnawed at his concentration.
Thus far, the current terrorists hadn’t demonstrated the skill or bravery of the men he took on in Florida.
One possibility was the CFM terrorists had been the elites of the group. With their leader dead and their best soldiers captured or killed, they might have launched a desperate operation without the planning or gear available previously. Jia’s survivors, along with any others taken by the cops at other towers, would provide the answers later.
Knowing immediately wouldn’t save anyone.
The hallway widened as it fed into a huge auditorium filled with hundreds of seats. The seats surrounded a raised circular stage. A small silver tripod whined from the center, the jammer. Erik ducked behind the last row of seats. He spotted no bodies, but someone might be lying between the seats bleeding out.
The scream from before was unmistakable.
Shadows shifted in the distance, and a bright muzzle flash overcame the dim red light for a moment to reveal the face of a grinning terrorist. His bullets ripped through the seat and struck Erik in the chest. He fell back with a grunt of pain, but other than a dent in his vest, he wasn’t harmed. After dropping to his stomach, he crawled away, watching the terrorists through the slits between the seats. Another few terrorists popped up, including a woman.
He counted four in total.
The woman screamed. “Sound familiar, cop? I can’t believe you fell for that. You’re probably sitting there with a bullet in your chest, praying someone’s going to come and save you before you bleed out.”
The terrorists’ bullets ripped the seat Erik had been using for cover and those nearby. He continued crawling in silence. If the terrorists were professionals, they would have swept the entire area or used a grenade.
He vacillated between irritation at the low quality of his opponents and gratitude that they didn’t know what they were doing. If they had, there would be many more dead bodies outside.
The terrorists ceased fire.
“Did we get him?” the female terrorist asked, sounding uncertain.
“He’s got to be dead after that,” another man replied. “Let’s go check. We have to be sure.” Heavy footsteps followed.
Erik rolled onto his back and pointed his TR-7 at the end of the aisle. Patience was its own powerful weapon on the battlefield.
Sometimes the simplest tactics were the most effective.
The footsteps grew closer, the terrorists chuckling. A little levity in a fight could soothe the nerves, but the arrogant bastards were taking things too lightly. If they knew what they were doing, they would have tried to flank him on either side, allowing for an easy shot to the back of the head. The footsteps were all coming from the same direction.
Mistakes killed on the battlefield, even small mistakes on modest battlefields.
Erik peered through the thin space between the seats again. The four terrorists crept forward more slowly, self-congratulatory smirks on their faces. The woman was in the lead. They’d ambushed a crowd of unarmed people and fired at one armed man, and they thought that made them impressive?
It was time for them to learn a very short and painful lesson they could ponder on their way to Hell.
Still on his back, Erik brought up his weapon, lined up his anticipated shot, and fired. The round ripped through the seat with ease and struck the frontmost terrorist. Her scream died in her throat as she pitched forward. He swept to his side with three quick trigger pulls, sending his wide-eyed would-be killers on an early expedition to the afterlife.
Erik shifted to his knees but didn’t stand, just in case someone else in the room understood the value of patience. There might be more enemies waiting for their chance. Given what happened in Florida, it wasn’t impossible that the terrorists might be targeting him.
Even if they weren’t being paid by a third party, his name had been splashed all over the news in connection with the hotel incident. Revenge was a motivation he understood well.
Understanding wasn’t the same thing as sympathizing. He would wipe out every terrorist there. Everyone on Earth needed to understand they shouldn’t mess with Neo SoCal if they wanted to keep breathing.
He took deep breaths as he counted to thirty. The jammer’s whine remained the only noise present. Erik popped up and swept the room with his rifle. There was no one there.
After a few more seconds of inspection, he aimed at the jammer, switched to quad mode, and fired a burst. The jammer danced in the air and sparked as the whine died.
“Jia, Emma, can you hear me now?”
“I can hear you,” Jia answered.
“You’re not dead,” Emma replied. “Congratulations. I’ve put a lot of work into training you.”
“Touching.” Erik snickered. “I took out their jammer. Can you access the tower systems now?”
“I’ll try.” Emma sighed. “But I’m going to have to try to restart the entire floor system to see if some of the backups will kick in. There’s a lot of residual damage from the EMP.”
“Just do your best.” Erik glanced at his ammo indicator. He ejected his magazine and popped in a new one. He was going to have to start using drums for situations like this. “Everything under control outside, Jia?”
“A few more terrorists came out, but I took care of them,” Jia replied, her voice tight. “I’ve bound all the ones I stunned, and I’ve stabilized the victims. I saw the ambulances in the distance. I’m coming in.”
“Yeah, we don’t know they’re all gone,” Erik agreed. He looked around the room before heading back down the hallway to the main concourse. “When those ambulances touch down, I’ll meet you in the central concourse.” He rattled off some directions. “We’ll hook up and finish sweeping this place together. The guys by the jammers might have been the last ones, but my gut says we’re not that lucky.”
He looked down at the dead terrorists. Every soldier instinct in him screamed that they weren’t done. Waiting for backup or TPST would give the terrorists a chance to escape or go outside and shoot more victims.
Emma clucked her tongue, or at least provided a convincing facsimile of the sound. “Oh, this is unfortunate. Very unfortunate.”
“What now?” Erik asked through gritted teeth.
“I’ve restarted the floor systems, which are giving me some access to other systems, and I’m checking status reports. The mild protection afforded the emergency lighting has kept it online, but most of the systems, including cameras, are offline. There is odd pinging near the system that suggests security bots of some form are in the process of being deployed on your floor.”
“By the system?” Jia asked, sounding relieved. “They can repel the terrorists.”
“Unfortunately, I don’t believe that’s the case,” Emma explained. “There is some residual evidence of previous hacking.”
“Why wait, then?” Erik scratched his eyebrow. “They could have deployed the bots to stun people and then picked them off at will.”
Jia hissed in frustration. “Because they were waiting for the EMP first. They kept it directional and limited, but there was still too much risk of frying the bots.”
Erik entered the hallway with a smile, holding his weapon with both hands in a ready position. “I always prefer the men and women who are shooting at me to be idiots.”
“I don’t understand. Isn’t that the smart move, waiting?” she queried.
“Nope
,” Erik replied, raising his gun. “Because we couldn’t be certain if any of them were left alive in here, and now we know there are more.” He moved into a jog. “Emma, it sounds like you know where the bots are and where they’re going?”
“For the moment, yes,” she confirmed. “Based on the blueprints for the building, I can give you directions.” She rattled them off.
“Then that’s all we need.”
“There will be a large number of hacked bots,” Emma noted.
“That’s fine,” Erik replied. “At least we don’t have to worry about interrogating them later.”
Chapter Forty-Five
Jia’s heart continued doing its best drum impression as she ran past several doors and rooms on her way toward the central entertainment floor concourse.
She didn’t even need Emma or Erik to provide her voice directions. Her partner had left a trail of dead terrorists starting a modest distance from the entrance, like the world’s most twisted breadcrumbs.
She gripped the custom pistol in her hand, squeezing the grip hard.
As much as she wanted to take suspects alive, the oncoming rush of security bots wasn’t something she could stop with a stun pistol.
Simultaneous attacks at multiple locations and clever hacking made for a complicated situation and left her fewer options. At least the detectives’ assault had forced the surviving terrorists inside.
A final push would end the horrible incident.
By the time Jia arrived at the concourse, she hadn’t spotted a single wounded or dead citizen.
Although she couldn’t be certain everyone outside would survive, her emergency medpatches and the quick actions of the EMTs once they got there meant they likely would. By the time Halloween was over, there might only be terrorist casualties.
Maybe Erik’s Lady could see to that.
Jia raised her weapon as she spotted the silhouetted form of a man in the dim red light. She didn’t call out. Giving away her location would be idiotic. She let out a sigh of relief as he turned around. It was Erik.
Shattered Truth Page 36