by LC Champlin
“No, actually, I . . . A trade?”
A bribe. “A deal.”
Jordan waved for the group to follow. “Let’s go. Stay close, stay alert.”
“And stay quiet,” Rodriguez added. “Apparently that’s a difficult concept for you people to grasp.”
The stairwell E lighting exaggerated Birk’s hollow eyes and drawn features. He looked ten years older than a second ago. “There are some files that might be useful to terrorists. I’m not on the project, so I didn’t think of it at first.”
Easy victory. A thrill rippled down Nathan’s spine. “We’ll download the files you think the terrorists wanted while we retrieve your files. We,” gesture to Albin, “will take point. All you need to do is give directions.”
As the group continued down, Birk murmured, “Since you seem to have a plan, you can get it past them.” The DHS officers. A new light burned in his eyes, pale and sick. “And by the way, my supervisors wouldn’t know a researcher from a janitor.”
At the landing, Nathan tapped Rodriguez’s shoulder. “Officer.”
“Now what, Serebus?” she snapped, sparing him a glare before returning to her MP-5 sight.
“Dr. Birk and I believe the terrorists are interested in certain data in the building. It might explain why they attacked Doorway.”
Rodriguez sighed but lowered her weapon so that it wasn’t pointing at Nathan’s chest. “You really have the balls to ask me to risk everyone’s ass so you can get some files? What the actual fuck, Serebus? News flash: you might be rich, you might be pretty, and you might have gotten out of Regis with more weapons than a gun show—”
Without law enforcement’s assistance.
“—but your cocky ass is anything but Superman.”
More of a Luthor than a Superman.
“We need to get something straight right now: we”—she nodded to Jordan, who held the posture of someone in the unassailable right—“are in charge. I’m damn tired of your manipulation and demands. You might think you’re God’s gift—”
“That is what my name means.”
“Shut up! It’s our job to get you to the Armory so the director can do God knows what with you.”
“And you’re doing an excellent job.”
“Shut your fucking pie hole for five seconds!” Her face turned a shade more livid and she took a step toward him. “It’s my ass that gets burned if you fuck yourself over between here and there. I’ll be damned if I’m going to let you do that to me. So get this and get it good.” She came nose to nose with Nathan, or rather nose to chest, as she lacked the twelve inches necessary to stand eye to eye. “You’re gonna shut up and follow us out, or so help me, I’ll cuff you and drag you out by your ears.”
Beside him, Albin shifted. Eyes on Rodriguez, Nathan put a restraining hand on his adviser’s shoulder. The nerve he’d struck ran deep: her commitment she felt to her responsibility stood like Gibraltar.
Nathan kept his face impassive. Butt her in the face with her own weapon, or break out in laughter? Neither. Already Jordan’s carbine muzzle hovered an inch away from online with Nathan’s skull.
“Understood, ma’am,” Nathan replied. “You have my sincerest gratitude for the DHS’s protection, especially the confiscation of all those weapons, which was perhaps the most protective thing the DHS has done for us to date.”
Murphy chuckled from somewhere to the rear.
Josephine pushed past Nathan. “National security is closely tied to the secrecy of our country’s companies, correct?”
“A short detour is all this will require,” Albin put in, his tone assassin-cold. “We three retrieve the data, with one of you as escort if you like, while the rest wait in a secure location or continue to the exit by following Dr. Birk’s directions.”
“That’s correct, Doctor, isn’t it?” Nathan prodded the researcher, who thus far had watched the exchange as if it didn’t involve him.
“Wha—” Birk blinked. “Oh, yes. There are only two locations where the files are stored. One’s not far from here. It isn’t close to where the gunmen were. I can draw a map so the rest of you can leave.”
“Sounds simple enough,” Josephine announced with a smile. “Let’s stop wasting time and get it done.”
“Dr. Birk.” Nathan turned to the researcher. “Give Jordan the directions.”
“That’s it. I’ve had enough.” Yanking a pair of handcuffs from her duty belt, Rodriguez stepped in. “Turn around, Serebus.”
Chapter 50
Divide and Conquer
Shoot It Out – 10 Years
The rail stopped Nathan’s retreat. “That won’t be necessary, ma’am.” Shit, now he’d lost face. Move on before the others thought about it more. He shrugged, looked about at his companions. “It seems we’re outvoted.”
“If you ladies are so conscientious about this data,” Jordan put in, “we’ll request the department dispatch a team to recover it.” He wore a condescending smile.
Josephine looked like she’d just gotten a face full of diesel fumes. “How long will that take? We’re already here with the man who knows where the data is.”
“They’ve decided,” Nathan cut her off. “We need to be going. Dr. Birk”—he stepped toward the lanky researcher—“lead on. You know where we have to go.” Hint, hint.
Birk smiled with his mouth only, gave a nod. “We need to get off at the next floor.”
“Don’t these stairs go all the way to ground level?” Jordan asked, doubtful. “There are only three floors.”
Birk raised his arms in his exaggerated shrug. “By all means, go on since you seem to be the new expert on the building layout. Just don’t expect me to join you. I’d rather stay clear of terrorists who are trying to kill me.”
“Come on,” Rodriguez ordered, backfisting Jordan’s arm as she turned toward the stair. “Stop fucking around.”
Nathan took his time on the descent; Albin matched speed. The others passed on the outside, with Bridges and Murphy falling in behind Birk, and Josephine behind them.
“Mr. Serebus,” Albin murmured from his place on the left, “I understand the importance of securing files that may be the terrorists’ goal here. But given the tenuous nature of our situation, perhaps allowing the DHS to send in a team would be more efficient. Our priority is to return home.”
“I agree.” As usual, the adviser displayed flawless logic. “But”—Nathan met the leopard gaze—“I’m not going home empty-handed, nor am I leaving this in the hands of the government.”
“‘The time to buy is when there’s blood in the streets,’” Nathan quoted, voice low, as they reached the next landing.
A nod from the attorney. “I agree. But Baron Rothschild was not inside a building that harbored terrorists when he made the observation. However—” He broke off as Rodriguez held up a fist for a halt.
Stack, breach, clear.
The fire door opened again and Jordan waved them out of the dim stairwell.
“I’ll explain it more later,” Nathan whispered, a handbreadth from the blond’s ear.
Albin didn’t respond, just watched as Birk let Murphy and Bridges shoulder past.
“Left, and straight on.” Over his shoulder, the researcher gave Nathan a sidelong look and a smirk.
As Birk slid through the door, he slapped a hand to his front left side like someone who fears they’ve left their wallet at the register. But he felt just above the beltline, not over a pocket. His shoulders relaxed. No loss, apparently.
Nathan elbowed Albin as they followed Birk, and received another nod from the blond. They might not have to hunt down all the files.
They filed out into another two-tone hall. E lights provided enough illumination to keep the party members from colliding with each other.
A circle of red lights stared at them at the end of the hall, looking far too much like an upgraded HAL 9000. Of course, a multi-billion dollar company would use night-vi
sion cameras, and connect them to an emergency power supply. Under other circumstances it would set the standard for effective security, but not today. Opening the pod bay doors would be far more difficult if hostiles were watching them.
“Dr. Birk,” Nathan began, coming abreast of Josephine to close the gap between himself and Birk. “Cameras are online.”
Nod.
“Where’s the security control room?”
“Why?”
“Where?”
Birk frowned back in annoyance. “Ground floor.”
“Is there any way the terrorists could have—”
Already shaking his head, he snapped, “It’s locked.”
“Pray you’re right, Doctor.”
At a hall intersection, Rodriguez signaled for a halt. Birk in turn motioned for a right turn. She eyed him for a moment, then nodded to Jordan. The officers swung around opposite corners, weapons sweeping.
Click.
Behind them. Nathan spun toward the sound. Left arm out, he shoved Albin and Josephine against the nearest wall with him. “Move!”
BANG!
Light exploded. Chest-kicking concussive force, ear-ringing blast. Shitshitshit! Not a flash-bang again. No losing Albin again.
Albin and Josephine grabbed Birk, barreled down the hall, and dodged right.
Rodriguez took cover at the intersection corner. “Go!”
Murphy had already begun his escape left, Bridges in tow.
Down the hall, boots thudded on carpeted concrete as orders in Arabic rang from the attackers.
“Come on!” Nathan urged, pausing to motion Rodriguez to follow.
“Get to cover!” she barked, then squeezed off an auto burst.
She could take care of herself. He sprinted after the others.
Chapter 51
The Decent One
Cut the Cord – Shinedown
Nine-mils and 5.56 mms rattled from the DHS weapons, while the enemies’ heavy 7.62 mms thundered. Maybe we can recover a few weapons again.
Birk skidded left at the T ahead. Nathan pushed off the far wall, bringing up the rear. Past two doors, then—a pivot saved him from slamming into Birk, who had halted in front of a steel door.
“Keycard, keycard!” Vic patted himself down.
“Let’s go!” Nathan edged back toward the T. Maybe he could ambush any pursuers. One, two, three, four. Lean. At the intersection, Rodriguez and Jordan held their ground. Casings littered the carpet, glinting in the E lights.
“Ha!” Birk whipped the card from his back pocket, slashed it through the reader. “Yes!” Shoving his shoulder against the door, the researcher half fell into the room beyond.
Nathan piled in behind Albin and Josephine. His kingdom for an AK.
Click. The steel-reinforced door closed with Nathan’s back against it. A sigh escaped him as his head thunked back. So close. Now this.
Breathe. There it came, the emotion-freezing cold, washing down his spine and out into his extremities. Gold eyes glared back from the darkness of his closed eyes.
They needed to retrieve the data and escape, or follow Albin’s advice and simply escape. As for the others . . . like the airlines said, put on your own mask before helping your neighbors with theirs.
Stepping away from the door, he surveyed the surroundings in the E lights. A lab, barely visible in the murk: Work counters ran down the center, with computer terminals at regular intervals. Hulking white boxes representing lab equipment of indeterminate function lined the walls. Instruments that reminded him of his trips through the U of AA’s chem lab lay on the counters.
Albin held his accustomed at-ease posture, ice-gaze on Nathan. Always observing, biding his time.
Vic paced a four-yard track in front of the center counters, babbling things like “going to die,” “should have left when I could,” “surrounded by lunatics,” “leave the files.”
“We’ve got to help them,” Josephine declared, turning to look each man in the eye with fire in her glare, targeting Nathan last. “I know you don’t like the officers, but what about Jack and Marvin?” She spread her arms in question.
“What do you expect me to do, Ms. Behrmann?” Nathan stepped toward her. “Do you expect me to fight off crazed gunmen with my bare hands simply because I’m wearing armor?”
She blinked, shook her head. “Not with your bare—”
“By all means, let me trot out there”—he jabbed a thumb over his shoulder at the door—“and stab their eyes out with a pipette.”
“You’ve faced these people in St. Regis, so you know their tactics.”
Albin broke his silence: “Automatic weapons made a considerable difference in our capabilities.”
Growling in frustration, the reporter shoved a hand through her brown hair. “Fine. But what do the gunmen want here? It’s a medical research company!”
She continued questioning the air while Nathan’s attention shifted to Birk, who continued his fretting and pacing, but at a lower intensity.
Albin turned on his heel, his dispassionate gaze snapping to the researcher. “Dr. Birk, kindly cease mewling and stand still.” The steel tone and dead calm produced the desired effect: the researcher halted, stared, mouth open in mid-blather. Josephine also fell silent. “If there is critical data in this laboratory, retrieve it. If not, then assist in formulating an evacuation plan. If you are incapable of doing either, you will sit down and be silent.”
“Which will it be?” Nathan picked up, striding forward. “Choose wisely.” He stopped three feet from Birk, at the edge of the personal-space bubble. “We’re helping you for a reason, remember?”
“I should have just left the files. You were the one who wanted them.” The researcher held his ground despite having to look up at Nathan. “And as for wanting my expertise on that neural regen project, you can go consult the janitor. I don’t care.”
“We made a deal. You don’t want to terminate the contract with me.” Nathan’s voice remained low, but steel flashed under the calm.
“Deal?” Josephine, distant.
“You asked us who we are. My answer hasn’t changed. The files are important enough for terrorists to attack Doorway. People died because of them.”
“No need to be dramatic,” Vic sniffed, shoving his hands through his hair. “The files. Right, right.” Nodding to himself, he turned away, eyes wide and a sheen of sweat on his face. “They’re still our best chance.”
“Chance for what, Dr. Birk?”
Annoyance, as if he’d caught Nathan eavesdropping, replaced fear in his face. “The computers are over there. They require two-person authentication. I would have got the files before I went to the roof, but . . . my coworker.” He turned away and trudged toward the servers.
Josephine moved to follow, but Albin put a restraining hand on her arm. “Not yet, Ms. Behrmann.”
Nathan came abreast of the Doorway employee. “No papers?”
“What?” Birk looked confused for a split second.
“The files you returned to retrieve.”
“Oh! Papers, no.” Head shake. “They’re digital.”
“Isn’t everything backed up in an off-site server?” Nathan had let the twit’s story slide to get him to agree, but no longer.
“The system backup cycled right before I put the files on the server and then the power—”
“Those are Arete Tech servers. Cloud based. They’re backed up in real-time.” While Birk wanted the files, he didn’t want them for the good of Doorway.
“Why are you helping, really?” Suspicion flashed. “You don’t strike me, even if you do punch me, as the altruistic sort.”
“Presumably you have the second form of authentication for the login.” Nathan crossed his arms.
“Why, no, I assumed you had it,” the weasel sneered.
“Dr. Birk.” Nathan halted, hand on the other man’s shoulder to compel him to do likewise. Time to prove a hypothesi
s, or at least drop Birk’s cockiness a notch. “My associate Mr. Conrad refrained out of decency’s sake from mentioning the other option.”
“Decency?” Birk’s brows climbed into his bangs. “Option?”
“Your cooperation will ensure you don’t experience it. The other option”—pause for emphasis on the bluff’s hook—“is I tell the DHS what you were really doing here.”
“What? You—I—” The good doctor’s mouth closed with a snap. Guilty. He stepped back, tried to regain his composure. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. You have no proof of anything.”
“No?” Nathan smiled, tilted his head back to look down his nose. “Are you certain?”
“The DHS people are probably dead by now, even if you had some sort of alleged proof. That’s assuming you get out of here alive to bring your accusations.” Birk crossed his arms in his best attempt at defiance.
Nathan stroked his goatee in thought as the tension built. “If that came from anyone else, I’d call it a threat. But I know you didn’t earn your position by being stupid.”
“Crazy,” Birk muttered, resuming his course toward the vault-style door in the back wall. “False accusations, threats, intimidation. This is how he wants to earn my help? Crazy.”
“False accusations?” Nathan stepped close to Birk as the file-snooping data thief punched an access code into the door lock. A keycard reader and retina scanner also waited. “Then what does this mean?” At the word this, Nathan backhanded the left side of Birk’s gut, where the researcher had grabbed while in the stairwell, and met the frame of a handgun.
Chapter 52
Red Handed
Hard to See – Five Finger Death Punch
Thud!