This was not the first time she’d done something illegal in the name of her mother, but it would be a lie to say she’d ever experienced stakes anywhere near these. In Washington, in Utah, she’d attempted things that carried at most the fear of an overnight in the clink, maybe a citation in her record.
Given what the rest of it said, that was hardly a concern.
This was something else entirely though, carrying with it the very real possibility of things she didn’t quite want to fathom.
Things like what had happened to Raz and Jazmine.
For an instant, the mental image from what was somehow just a day before flashed into her mind, again ratcheting up the trepidation within, leaving her feeling like her skin was three sizes too small, like she wanted nothing more than to spring from it.
Sensing the intensity on either side of her, witnessing the change that had come over both her cohorts, managed to both reassure and frighten her in a way she didn’t think possible.
For the first time, she was genuinely glad that she had made the call to them. Doing so, in the moment, had seemed like the only feasible course of action, though that didn’t mean she was aching to do so. Every minute since she had spent waffling between whether it was a good decision or not, the uncertainty rising each time the woman opened her mouth.
Seeing them now, though, the intensity they displayed, the situational awareness and planning they exuded, filled her with resolve she didn’t know was still possible.
This was a project that had been going on for years, as recently as yesterday had seemed like it was all for naught.
Now, with their help, it could all come to fruition, just hours before the self-mandated finish line she had been watching for so long.
As the elevator opened on the bottom floor and Laredo and Rae both peeled away, she lingered, barely moving forward, reminding herself of that very thing.
Just a few more hours, and it would be over. Her mother could rest.
She could rest.
In the span of just a few seconds, both of her newfound colleagues disappeared to either side, leaving her alone for the first time in a day. A momentary feeling of fear, of something resembling loneliness, passed over her before fading, her determination returning.
With a nod to the same guard sitting at the desk, she flashed a smile, walking forward to the front windows. There she tucked herself in tight to a corner, pressing a shoulder against the glass, nothing more than a student staying out of the cold, waiting for someone to join them.
The plan was not one she was entirely fond of, though she wasn’t about to argue with it. The notion of using two of the three as live bait didn’t seem that appealing, but given the situation and the truncated timetable they were on, she conceded they didn’t have many options.
Standing and watching, she held her breath, praying it worked.
One minute after leaving her side, Rae appeared on the right side of the quad, Laredo on the left. Falling in line with the flow of people moving about, they looked a little older than the others – especially Laredo – but otherwise did nothing to draw attention to themselves or their position.
With heads held up and strides even, they walked right past the lookouts posted on either side of the quad, neither giving any indication they even knew the men were there.
Holding her breath, Skye sat and watched, feeling her own insides do flips just from watching, hoping that it would be enough, giving her the window she needed.
It was.
The two men spotted their prey simultaneously, Skye watching as a silent conversation of gestures took place between them. On cue they both rose, one man folding his newspaper, the other holding his phone to his face, as Laredo and Rae disappeared into the building ahead.
Fifteen minutes and counting.
Fighting every impulse to get moving, Skye waited until the men moved on the computer science building, pausing until they were gone from sight before ducking out the front door. With her gaze aimed down at the ground, she walked as fast as she thought wouldn’t draw attention, her shoes falling silent against the cold concrete.
Around her, the rush between classes was still in effect, allowing her to weave through students, to move a little quicker, obscured from view.
Two minutes later she arrived at the front of the computer science building and used a tip from Laredo, scanning the glass façade for the reflection of anybody that might be following her.
As best she could tell, battling against frazzled nerves and darting eyes, there was nobody.
Stepping inside, she was immediately hit by a wall of warm air, the interior looking markedly like the building she had just exited. The glass display cases contained different items, and the young guard behind the desk had a different shade of hair color, but otherwise the place was identical.
A college building designed to look like a botanical garden.
Taxpayer and student tuition dollars at their best.
Walking straight across the white tile floor, Skye went to the bank of elevators and called one going up. The moment it opened she stepped inside, directing it to the top floor and pressing the Door Close button one time after another, hoping that nobody jumped in behind her.
To her extreme relief, nobody did.
Exhaling for the first time since leaving the geological building, Skye reached into the front pocket of her sweatshirt. From it she extracted the same pair of enormous sunglasses she’d been using to hide her identity for months, sliding the thick plastic frames behind her ears.
From there she pushed both hands back into the front pocket, clutching what she would need next, steeling herself for what was coming.
She would only get one shot at it.
Bouncing on the balls of her feet, Skye allowed herself to wonder how Laredo and Rae were faring before pushing the notion from mind.
She had to focus. Never before had she done this to someone, having just bought the thing a few weeks before, after she started getting the feeling she was being followed. It was purchased on the advice of Jazmine, at the urging of Raz, both getting a kick out of the mental image of her actually employing it.
At the time, Skye had to admit, she had as well.
Now, such an opportunity had arrived.
Orange light colored the last few numbers on the top scroll of the elevator, counting out the final floors before opening on the top level. Just like with the geological building, it led to just a single doorway, this one bereft of lettering, no name at all welcoming visitors.
It didn’t matter. Skye knew what was on the other side, what lay just past the guard sitting at the desk before her, leering as if he was a predator that had just spotted a wounded prey.
With long, greasy hair pulled back into a ponytail and a gap between his front teeth, he stood as Skye approached, hitching the pants of his uniform up higher on his bony hips.
“Well, hello there. Now how can I help you?”
Chapter Forty-Six
I exited the stairwell on the top floor completely out of breath, both from the adrenaline of the encounter eight floors below and my sprint up the remaining stairs.
That too was influenced at least in part by adrenaline, the rest by wanting to put as much distance between him and me as possible, every step spent waiting for the sound of a door to open, for some young co-ed to set the concrete tube reverberating with her scream.
Fortunately, neither happened.
Bursting onto the top floor, I stopped just inside the door, beads of sweat streaming down my face, lungs gasping for air, just as Rae appeared on the opposite side. A quick onceover showed a small red smudge on her left cheekbone, not enough to even break the skin, not a bit of sweat on her.
“I win,” I said, smiling slightly.
With one finger Rae pointed at her knee, a spot of blood the size of a quarter spread across her jeans. “You want to be next?”
Holding up both hands in resignation, we each turned to the left, away from the bank
of elevators making up the wall behind us. A few feet away stood a guard’s desk, the polished black piece stretched the width of the doorway, nobody seated behind it.
No sign of Skye anywhere.
The mirth of a moment before already gone, I reached to the small of my back and extracted my knife, my thumb resting on the blade release as I walked up to the desk and peered across.
“I’ll be damned,” I muttered, sensing Rae approach beside me.
“I like her style.”
On the floor, lying in a twisted heap at the foot of the desk, was a guard in a uniform matching the one from the geological building. Long thin hair was pulled back into a ponytail, the bottom of it splayed out behind his head.
A pair of twin burn marks were visible above the collar of his shirt, telltale features of a Taser being used moments before.
Leaving the kid where he lay, we circled around the desk and passed through a set of double doors. Both tense, unsure what to find, we walked into a dimly lit room to find Skye seated at what looked to be the control center for the USS Enterprise, an enormous screen on the wall before her.
Upon our entrance, she jerked her attention our way, pausing for just a moment before recognition arrived and she returned to what she was doing.
“You guys cool?”
“Frosty,” I said, glancing at her once before shifting my attention to the screen. “You?”
“Good,” she said, continuing to pound away on a keyboard, the screen moving in quick time before her.
“Nice work on the guard.”
“Thanks,” Skye replied, the rattle of her fingers on the machine the only sound in the room.
The lab was stretched out to cover most of the top floor, the bulk of the space filled with a menagerie of circuit boards and gadgetry that I didn’t pretend to understand. Various lights were illuminated in random shapes, some flashing, others changing color from one moment to the next.
Again, images of the USS Enterprise came to mind.
“Eight minutes,” Rae said, the words pushed out to let us know where we stood, and to remind us that there would be time for idle chatter later.
Nodding my understanding, I watched the screen for another moment, a sequence of files and maps flashing by in quick order. Dozens of questions sprang to mind as I stood, each one being pushed aside as I forced myself to remain quiet.
We all had a job to do.
Circling behind Skye in the driver’s seat, I went to the far end of the room and checked along the back wall, searching for exits. Finding none, I made a loop around the far side, finding that the place was designed with only a single point of entry, the guard’s desk meant to watch over it at all times.
A system that was put together well, though its success was predicated on the one point that so often failed in these situations.
Basic human ineptitude.
On the opposite side of the room Rae did the same as me, checking for points of exit that didn’t exist. With a .45 gripped in her right hand, I could see veins bulging along her forearm, her body in a heightened state of alert.
I did not doubt her for one moment when she said she could easily add another blood stain to the knee of her pants.
I just hoped we were gone before Dawson and his men arrived to find out.
“Five minutes,” Rae called, not needing to consult a watch or timer, her mind possessing an uncanny ability to set the clock.
“Almost there,” Skye said, her voice distant, her head rocking from the keyboard to the screen in a steady pattern.
Heading back to where we’d come from, I stepped into the hallway and listened hard. Hearing nothing, I checked the guard again, finding his eyes shut tight, a line of spittle running down his cheek.
However much voltage Skye had hit him with, it was effective.
“Two minutes,” I heard Rae call from within the lab, each reminder serving to spike my adrenaline even higher.
Somewhere nearby was a team of trained men, presumably much better prepared than the two we had just dispatched. We also knew there would be at least twice as many, each of them carrying weapons, probably dealing with a growing lack of concern for using them on us.
My eyes dilated slightly as I stepped back into the lab, the lower light drawing my attention back to the screen. On it was a series of topographical maps, the screen clicking in place before zooming in closer and doing the same.
Once a few shots of the image were snapped and stored, Skye moved past it, pulling up a picture of a charred village, starting the process anew.
“Time’s up,” I said, already sensing the clock was expired, my own internal monitor letting me know it was time.
“One more minute,” Skye said, her fingers somehow moving even quicker as she worked.
“We’re done, move your ass,” Rae said, borrowing Skye’s line and using it back on her.
Ignoring us both, Skye continued what she was doing, three more images flying past in record time, pausing just long enough to be copied before being dismissed.
Gun still poised by her shoulder, Rae moved past me and out into the hallway.
“Now!” I yelled, my tone loud enough to let her know it was non-negotiable, soft enough not to be heard below.
Giving one last burst of movement, Skye finished what she was working on before closing everything out, a basic monitor appearing before us, a black background with a few bland icons spread across it.
Standing and jogging over to the closest bank of electronics, Skye snatched something from one of them and shoved both hands into the front pocket of her sweatshirt, running toward me with them hidden under the baby blue material.
I waited just until she was one step past me before moving out right on her heels.
Chapter Forty-Seven
There was no time to sit and second guess, to silently curse himself for making the wrong decision.
That would all come later, hopefully once Wynn and Sommers and Grant were accounted for – in whatever form that may be.
For the time being, all that would have to wait. Not once did any of it even enter Otis Dawson’s mind as he sprinted across the University of Chicago campus, barking orders as he ran, completely ignoring the shocked gasps of wide-eyed students as he passed.
“Roush, Minkus, Ramirez, fall back! Fall back now!”
The harder he ran, the more wind rushed past, tugging at the ridiculous hat sitting atop his head, whistling through his earpiece. Jamming a finger down over it, he allowed the twisted posture to shift his gait to the side, shoulders swinging back and forth as he ran.
“Hinkley, bring the car, Extraction Point 1! Now!”
To anybody watching, the scene must have seemed absurd. A handful of middle-aged men, all clearly too old for a college campus, certainly none fitting the look for the University of Chicago, all sprinting in a loose tangle across the open lawn. Dressed down in jeans and pullovers, barking orders as they moved, using terminology that belonged on a battlefield somewhere.
Dawson could not care less, his focus singular as he bore down. Cold air clawed at his lungs as he circled around a solid brick building and went wide for the parking lot beyond, a shiny black SUV whipping in and moving fast toward them, narrowly avoiding pedestrians as it went.
Not bothering to issue an admonishment of any sort, Dawson reached the passenger door first and jerked it open, hopping in. Panting hard, he waited as a moment later Minkus joined him, taking the rear passenger seat, neither bothering to circle around to the other side.
Turning in his seat, Dawson stared out past the building they’d just come around, no sign of Roush or Ramirez. Both positioned furthest away on their outpost, Dawson knew they were at least a couple hundred yards behind them, could hear them panting through his audio.
“Go,” he said, staring out through the window, seeing no sign of them.
“What?” Hinkley asked, a twinge of surprise in his voice.
“Go!” Dawson barked, holding a hand to his ear. “
Roush, Ramirez, resume your positions. We’ve got to go, we’ll be back.”
There was no response over the line as the SUV lurched forward, tires squealing as it peeled around the parking lot and out into traffic.
“Freeway or Lakeshore?” Hinkley asked, cutting around a taxi idling on the curb before pushing them back into the outside lane and leaning hard on the gas.
“I don’t give a damn,” Dawson replied, the disgust he felt obvious in his tone. “Just get us there.”
Extracting his Sig Sauer from the shoulder holster he’d been wearing beneath his windbreaker, he checked the magazine and made sure a round was loaded into the chamber, an unnecessary exercise since he never believed in carrying a weapon that wasn’t ready to fire.
Nervous energy, the kind of thing the years still had not managed to file away.
Keeping the weapon gripped in his right hand, Dawson left it lying across his lap, his leg beginning to bob up and down.
They had to get there in time. The men he had sent that way were the short timers, guys that checked out, but still had the least amount of experience with this kind of work.
If he had to bet, them against Wynn and Sommers, he would still wager on his team, but it would be much closer than he liked.
“Faster, faster,” he muttered as Hinkley opted for Lakeshore Drive, pushing north, the cityscape on their left, Lake Michigan on their right.
Beside him Hinkley said nothing, his mouth drawn into a tight line as he pushed the speedometer a bit higher, moving well above the speed limit, practically begging law enforcement to take notice.
Considering the mood he was in, Dawson almost dared somebody to try and pull them over.
Releasing his grip on the Sig, he flexed both hands in front of him, nerves on edge, when the sound of his phone erupted on his hip, all three men jerking toward the sound.
“Yeah?” Dawson snapped, expecting to hear the voice of Myles Henry on the line, calling to tell him they had everybody secured and needed an evacuation.
Thriller Box Set One: The Subway-The Debt-Catastrophic Page 53