‘You’re out of your league.’ The operative advanced .
Olesya got to one knee, held the pistol by the barrel and used it as a club, knocking his attack off alignment. She stood and weaved around him. He held a knife in one hand. She drove her knee at his spine. He twisted, avoided her knee and countered with his knife. The blade cut her firing hand and her pistol went flying down the escalator .
Olesya slid back into a turnstile aisle and drew the fling knife from her thigh. She slapped her throwing arm down on her other hand to trigger a crisp release. The operative raised his broken arm to protect himself. The knife embedded into his forearm .
Olesya wriggled under the plastic barriers of the turnstile and climbed to her feet. Operatives were always a tough match, but this one seemed different. He pulled the knife from his flesh and cast it aside. It struck an onlooker in the shoulder. The onlooker saw the knife, then passed out. Nearby commuters screamed and finally everyone pushed against each other to flee. That gave her more room, but it also gave the operative more room .
Where are the others? This is their operative .
He closed on her, knife in his left hand .
Olesya drew her Raven knife. She needed help .
Behind the operative, an escalator delivered the suppressed Glock back to this floor. He went straight for her, reached the barriers and thrust his blade at her neck .
She deflected the strike with her own knife. His arm came back in for another attack. With a strong flick, she cut the knife from his grasp and sliced his wrist. His knife bounced off the turnstile and landed in the next aisle. He pinned her knife hand to the metal surface of the turnstile and head-butted her. Her vision crackled. The turnstile beeped in protest .
Olesya kicked off the barriers and launched herself up. Her boot caught him in the face as she flipped over the turnstile and into the next aisle. Her wrist turned with her, but the operative kept it pinned .
Olesya landed in the adjacent aisle. His knife was between her feet. She grabbed it and stabbed at his good arm, but he pulled clear. She took the knives in both hands. Just one artery would be enough to bring him down, she thought, as she —
The operative vaulted the barriers with unexpected agility .
He must be wearing an exoskeleton .
The operative was in her aisle, one boot coming for her. She didn’t have room to avoid the kick and the plastic barriers blocked her retreat. She reached quickly for the NetGun on her belt, but she was too late. His boot sank into her stomach, expelling air from her lungs and lifting her off her feet .
The kick sent her crashing through the barriers, through the air and across the polished granite. Releasing both knives, she brought her elbows up to protect her head. She struck the corner of the escalator. One elbow absorbed the impact and went numb, and the back of her skull banged hard on the step. Light flashed across her vision, then vanished .
Chapter Twenty
Today
Barranquilla, Colombia
D amien breathed deeply, filling his lungs. The industrial district smelled of old engine oil. He swiped his ID on the turnstile and waited for the elevator with Nasira. Underneath their feet was a sterile production facility that supposedly manufactured hormone replacement therapy and birth control medication .
With their stolen IDs, Damien hoped no one would notice Nasira’s name was Pedro Herrera. A glass elevator finally arrived and they took the plunge .
Nasira chose the level in the middle, labeled CLINICO. ‘Barranquilla or bust .’
Her hand rested on her holstered Sig Sauer P226, as issued to Pedro Herrera. Back when they were operatives, the P226 was Jay’s preferred pistol. It seemed a long time ago .
Damien checked his own utility belt. In addition to a P226, it contained everything the guards had been carrying, but like Nasira he’d made a few additions of his own: a knife, a shim and handcuff key, a small diamond saw, a flashlight and a sachet of combat gauze .
‘Uh,’ Nasira said .
She pulled him by the shoulder, turning him around. The elevator descended through a glass shaft, granting them a high view of the facility’s floor below. Different sectors were broken by corridors and chambers, many lined with hospital beds. More than he could count. But most importantly, the beds were occupied .
‘This might take a while,’ Damien said .
‘We don’t have much time.’ Nasira took a moment to steady herself. ‘Christ, they’re test subjects, aren’t they ?’
‘Nothing Jay can’t handle, right?’ Damien forced away images of Jay being tested, possibly dissected. He hoped they weren’t too late .
Nasira’s eyes were glassy .
‘You and Jay, you’ve been … close lately,’ he said .
She swallowed. ‘Just focus .’
The elevator reached the clínico floor and the doors opened. The corridor smelled sharply of ammonia and was oddly quiet. Nasira moved fast through the corridor. They passed the occasional nurse and doctor who wore pale blue scrubs over sneakers and civilian clothes. Nasira cornered a nurse .
‘¿Falta algún paciente?’ Nasira asked .
The nurse shook his head. ‘No … I don’t think we’re missing any. They … there’s no way they could — ’
Nasira pointed to a security camera on the ceiling behind the nurse. ‘We have reports of a patient walking around unsupervised in this area .’
‘I can check everyone immediately.’ The nurse’s wide eyes moved between Nasira and Damien. ‘Do you know the patient’s ID? Do you know what they look like ?’
‘Male, light brown skin tone, short black hair,’ Nasira said. ‘Dressed … like a patient .’
‘That doesn’t really narrow it down,’ the nurse said .
Nasira snapped her fingers. ‘He was threatening to electrocute other patients .’
The nurse blinked. ‘Oh yes, that’s 165. The ward is this way .’
He walked quickly but Nasira was already overtaking him .
‘He’s become very aggressive lately,’ the nurse said. ‘We’ve had to sedate him more often than the others. But he’s never tried to escape before — ’
The nurse swiped his ID and opened a glass door. Nasira drew her Sig, and Damien followed her through to a long, narrow ward with hospital beds that lined both sides. Nurses and doctors paced the center, collecting blood samples and writing on tablets. Damien noticed a small logo on the back of their tablets: two merged left and right arrows, like a misaligned X. It was an angular drawing of a DNA strand .
The nurse continued down the aisle and stopped by a curtained bed. Nasira ripped open the curtains to find a young man lying in a hospital bed. Damien couldn’t see from his angle, but he didn’t need to. Nasira’s eyes told him everything. She moved forward, pistol lowered .
Damien sidestepped the nurse to see for himself. Relief and anxiety pulled inside him. The patient wasn’t awake, but the sensors alongside the bed showed his heartbeat and blood pressure. Unlike the other beds, this bed frame was made from hard polymers rather than metal. And unlike the metal restraints on the others, this patient was secured to the bed with plasticuffs. He had high cheekbones, an amber brown complexion and cracked lips .
They’d finally found him .
Jay opened his eyes .
Nasira gasped, coughing to cover her reaction. She turned to the nurse. ‘Where is the supervising doctor for this ward ?’
‘I think she’s on break at the moment,’ the nurse said. ‘I can find her .’
The nurse disappeared. Damien closed the curtain behind them. Jay looked confused, but tried to sit up in the bed. That was a good sign .
‘Are you hurt?’ Nasira asked softly. ‘Can you walk out of here ?’
Jay held Nasira’s wrist tightly and didn’t let go. ‘I’m good.’ He looked down at his cuffed arms. There were IV lines embedded in his veins. ‘Considering .’
‘What are they doing here?’ Damien asked .
‘Everyone with abilities,
’ Jay said. ‘Picking them off the street and copying their pseudo …’
‘Pseudogenes,’ Damien finished. ‘They can do that ?’
‘Listen up.’ Nasira pried the plasticuffs loose with her knife. ‘We’re getting you the hell out. Don’t matter what they’re doing .’
The curtains parted and a doctor stepped through. ‘Is everything OK ?’
Nasira reached for a new line of plasticuffs. ‘We’re tying the patient up. He was uncooperative and in possession of a knife. Any idea where he might have gotten that from ?’
She tossed the knife to Damien and checked Jay’s vitals. She looped the plasticuff around the bed frame and pulled the doctor’s wrist onto it, fastening with a sharp flick .
‘Kinky,’ Jay said, ‘but strangely not part of my fantasy .’
Damien cut Jay’s other arm free and tossed the blade back to Nasira. She held it to the doctor’s throat .
‘What are you doing to these people?’ Nasira asked .
‘Ensayo clínico,’ she said with a whisper. Clinical trial .
‘What the hell is this place?’ Nasira asked .
The doctor tried to respond but her voice cracked under pressure. She finally said, ‘I-Intron .’
‘Intron? Who are they?’ Nasira asked. ‘Private military ?’
The doctor shot Nasira a disgusted look. ‘Certainly not. This is pharmacology, biotech — ’
‘How many of your security guards are coming?’ Nasira asked .
‘Just two guards,’ the doctor said. ‘Usually .’
Shouts came from the corridor outside the ward. Someone yelled, ‘Drop your weapons.’ Then gunfire .
‘Security?’ Nasira asked .
The doctor stared through her. ‘I don’t know those voices .’
That wasn’t pistol fire either , Damien thought .
‘Friends of yours?’ Jay pointed upward .
Damien followed his finger through the open ceiling. Another elevator descended the glass shaft. Inside it, a cluster of athletic looking men and women, masked, black fatigues .
‘Are they here for you?’ Nasira asked .
‘I’m popular,’ Jay said, ‘but not that popular .’
Damien counted five of them. They wielded sand-colored carbines and black suppressors. They also wore white armbands .
‘This doesn’t look like a friendly visit,’ Damien said .
Nasira made her decision. ‘Then we leave now .’
Damien moved carefully ahead of her, listening. More footsteps. He held up a couple of fingers: two armed intruders in the corridor, just outside their ward .
Nasira drew her pistol .
Chapter Twenty-One
O lesya was lying in the grass. Xiu stood over her and Damien and Jay were there too. They were all wearing their blue vests and safety goggles .
‘We made it over the wall,’ Damien said .
‘Hell yeah!’ Jay punched the air .
Xiu crouched beside her. ‘All thanks to you .’
‘I did it for you.’ Olesya reached out for her hand .
‘Then why did you betray me?’ Xiu asked .
The whistle sounded through the forest .
Olesya woke up. She was sprawled across the escalator steps as they descended to the subway platforms. The operative gripped his pistol and descended the steps toward her, pushing past commuters .
Olesya’s right arm was numb so she reached across her body with her left. He saw, raised his pistol toward her. His arm trembled. Blood dripped from his wrist .
Unclipping her NetGun, Olesya pressed the firing button with her thumb. Compressed air punched a featherlight steel net into the operative. It ballooned with weighted talons and wrapping around him, fixing his shooting arm to his neck and knocking the pistol clear. Tightly wrapped in the net, the operative toppled back onto the steps, shuddering as the net delivered repeated electric shocks .
The escalator pushed Olesya onto the red granite floor of the subway platform. She got to her feet, retrieved her Gyurza pistol and stepped clear of the entangled operative. She didn’t know how long he’d been following her, and if he’d had the opportunity to report her presence to the other operatives before entering the subway. At least in here if she couldn’t communicate with her people, he couldn’t communicate with his .
She left him on the floor. The electric shocks would only zap him if he tried to move, plus the Zaslon teams would collect him from the platform as soon as she could make the call. She snapped the studs on her coat closed and walked the platform, feeling a cool breeze on her face. A train pulled in beside her. The doors opened and commuters moved on and off the platform. The operative was at the end of the platform. She jumped inside the rear car and slipped between the closing doors .
Watching Olesya through the glass, the operative smirked .
The train started moving again. Olesya swore under her breath. Thinking quickly, she slapped a sticky cam above the doors of the next car. It was small enough that no one would notice, but the lens would be wide enough to see the operative leave the train .
Olesya ran from the station, her lungs burning. At the surface she called in Zaslon to collect the captured operative, then checked on Ark and Val .
Ark swore. ‘I lost mine. Think he doubled back to Pushkin Square .’
‘Don’t bother, I got him,’ Olesya said. ‘Val ?’
‘Still on mine, but he’s boxing me,’ Val said. ‘We’re about to go around the same block a second time .’
‘Don’t follow or you’ll get burned,’ Olesya said. ‘Ark, we need you in there .’
‘On my way.’ Ark slammed a car door. ‘I need directions .’
‘Corner of Vorotnikovskiy and Degtyarnyy,’ Val said. ‘Bearing north on Vorotnikovskiy .’
‘Olesya, what about you?’ Ark asked .
‘I’m working on it.’ She waved at the oncoming traffic .
Many cars in Moscow acted as taxis, outnumbering official taxis. A bruised silver Chevrolet Optra pulled in almost immediately. Olesya considered stealing it at gunpoint, but she didn’t know this city well enough yet. A local driver would be faster .
‘How fast can you get me to Mayakovskaya?’ she asked the driver .
He scratched a gray eyebrow. ‘That depends on how much .’
‘Ten thousand rubles.’ She reached for her folded bills .
He stared at the bills. ‘Very fast .’
Olesya jumped in the front seat. ‘Give me faster .’
He stepped on it .
While Val directed Ark to her operative, Olesya knew she couldn’t outrun the train with the hooded operative, and she wasn’t going to try. But she didn’t want to be too far behind either. Firing up her phone, she checked the sticky cam feed. It was black except for three words: no signal detected .
The wheels screeched as the driver took the corner almost as hard as she would have. Then the feed sparked to life. Through the sticky camera’s fish-eye lens she could see the train stopping at Mayakovskaya; it had been quicker than she thought. The doors opened just below the camera. On the edges of the extremely wide lens, she could see the other car doors open as well. The resolution was reasonable, but she needed to squint to scan the crowd that flowed between steel columns .
Jacket with a shiny hood, black hair. Moving from the car on the right. A rucksack on her back. In the center of the platform, police officers appeared and started directing commuters out of the station. A lot of police officers .
‘That’s not good,’ Olesya said under her breath .
The driver crunched the Optra to a halt. ‘It is very good, we’re here !’
She dropped the rubles in his lap. He wished her a good day as she slammed the door and sprinted for the station, muddied snow crunching underfoot .
Police officers were standing outside, leading commuters out but denying entry. Olesya watched the crowd filter out onto the winter streets, checking everyone’s faces. The last few people stepped out, followed by
more officers .
She checked her camera feed. The train was still at the now-empty platform, Empty except for a glimpse of shiny hood. The operative was still down there, alone. Whatever she was doing, now was the perfect opportunity to do it .
Olesya opened her wallet for the pair of officers guarding the entrance. The officer with two stripes on her shoulder—a junior sergeant—looked at her Federal Security Service ID. It was a perfect forgery, from her false name and number to the hologram in the center .
‘What’s the situation?’ Olesya asked .
‘Bomb threat,’ the sergeant said. ‘Special Rapid Response will enter now .’
Olesya turned and saw the blue and white armored van unloading a six-person team of rapid response officers in black fatigues and helmets. One of them moved like an astronaut in his bomb suit, layered generously in Kevlar, foam, and plastic .
‘Give me ten minutes,’ she said to the sergeant .
Before the sergeant could react, she moved quickly through the entry hall .
‘I’m heading into Mayakovskaya station,’ Olesya said into her throat mike. ‘Call if you need me .’
‘You’re only a block away. Maybe you should call if you need us ,’ Ark said. ‘We’ll play tag in the meantime .’
‘Speak soon,’ Olesya said .
Leaping over the interior turnstiles, she strode under the colorful yellow and blue mosaic ceiling and onto an escalator. It fed her down through a white tunnel lit by globular lamps. The tunnel was so long that she could barely see the end .
‘Val,’ Ark said in her earpiece, ‘do you see her? I’ve lost the eye .’
Val replied, but her words started to fragment as Olesya moved deeper underground. She thought of going back to help—they weren’t far—but she couldn’t let the hooded operative escape. Running down the escalator, Olesya only slowed when she neared the bottom, popping her coat studs slowly so they made no sound, and carefully drawing her Gyurza .
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