Lockdown (Fugitive Marines Book 3)

by David Ryker

  “How are we going to pull it off?” asked Chelsea. “We have to get past the guards here in the building, then we have to get into Toomey’s hangar.”

  “We’ll have to map things out. Dev, you’re going to be a key part in this.”

  Schuster nodded. “I’m ready.”

  “What about the story for the network?” asked Ben. “The plan was to make a show out of arresting us so that Kergan wouldn’t expect an attack.”

  “I think there will be more than enough newsworthy stuff going on,” said Quinn. “After all, we’re about to steal four government spaceships. That ought to be enough to make a headline or two.”

  26

  The sun had just begun to peek through the window at the end of the hall outside Quinn’s suite when the woman came bursting through the door, screaming and startling the two black uniformed guards on either side of it.

  She clutched the arm of the one closest to her, eyes wild. “They’re going to kill me!” she shrieked. “You have to stop them!”

  “Get behind me!”

  The guard spun her so that she was on the other side of the hall, with him between her and the door. His partner was already in the doorway, his shock rifle up and pointed into the living room beyond the door.

  “I’ll take point,” he hissed.

  The other guard turned back to the woman and took her trembling arms in his gloved hands. Her long auburn hair was hanging in her eyes, her expression that of a hunted animal.

  “You have to watch out,” she whispered. “You’re in danger!”

  He nodded grimly. “We’re experts at this, ma’am. You stay here and stay low—we’ll handle this.”

  He unshouldered his own rifle and followed his partner into the suite entrance so that they were side by side, each pointing their rifle in an opposing angle. The guards knew from the men they’d relieved at midnight that the entire group had gone in around 2100 hours the night before, and none had left.

  Their orders were to keep the people in that suite alive, but no one had said anything about unhurt. They would storm into the room, each taking a flank, and sweep it, ready for rapid fire if need be. The first one nodded to the second and held up his left hand, counting down from three.

  Two.

  One.

  A rippling wave of red light suddenly spread through the air in a circle around them and into the room beyond. It lasted less than a second, but it startled them badly.

  “What the hell—” one muttered.

  “Some experts,” said the woman behind them in the hall.

  They turned toward her to see her holding a small box in her hands. A light on the top of it was glowing red. A moment later, the giant was behind them in the doorway, sporting a wide grin.

  “Mornin’!” he said amiably. “Muffins?”

  The duo moved as one, spinning back to face the man and pointing the muzzles of their shock rifles directly at his solar plexus. It would hurt like hell, they knew, and might cause permanent nerve damage, but it was their job to put people down.

  They squeezed the triggers in unison. Nothing happened.

  The giant grinned. “I was callin’ ye muffins!”

  His right hand swung toward the guard on the left of the door like a sledgehammer, knocking him clear across the hall and into the far wall. The man to the left squeezed his trigger three more times, but the rifle didn’t respond.

  “This thing is worth its weight in palladium,” said the redhead as she walked past him and joined the others, who were now walking into the living room from other parts of the suite. She handed the box to a young woman with short dark hair and a cocky smile, and suddenly there was another wave of light, only this one was green.

  “You’re not going to get away with this,” the guard said. “There are others in the lobby.”

  “We know,” said the man the guard recognized as their leader, Quinn. “We tend to play these things by ear.”

  With that, he grabbed the rifle from the man’s arms, turned it in one swift, deft movement and placed it against the man’s shoulder.

  The guard barked a laugh. “It doesn’t work, stupid.”

  The sizzling blue light that suddenly enveloped him and caused his muscles to contract painfully had something else to say about that.

  The last thing he saw before he passed out from the shock was the giant delivering a second blow to his partner in the hall and taking his rifle. Just before his eyes closed, the giant grinned down at him and waved his beefy fingers.

  “Nighty-night, numpty.”

  Then blackness.

  “I’d really love to take a look inside that box of yours,” Schuster said as they headed out into the hall, Quinn and Maggott taking point with their pilfered shock rifles.

  “Keep it in your pants, tiger,” said Gloom. “We’ve got a mission to worry about.”

  Schuster choked on his spit.

  “Quiet,” said Quinn.

  “Chill,” said Gloom. “It’s the same kind of tech King’s people used then they took us. All recording devices are on a loop for the next ten minutes. As far as anyone can see or hear, those two guys are still standing on either side of your door.”

  “I know that,” he grumbled. “I meant shut up, you’re distracting me.”

  The eight of them squeezed into the elevator so that they were all behind Ellie, with her facing the door. Quinn waved his hand over the word “lobby” and it began its descent from the seventy-fifth floor down to the ground level.

  “You did great, Ellie,” he said. “Now if you can just do it again, we should be out of here. Once we’re on the street, we’ll be fine.”

  Bishop gripped her shoulder and planted a kiss on her cheek. “You’re an honorary Jarhead now, babe. Isn’t that exciting?”

  “Yeah, I’m practically having an orgasm,” she deadpanned.

  “Are you ready for the fallout from this?” asked Chelsea. “You’re the one who has to stay behind and deal with being an accessory to our escape.”

  “Are you kidding? What’s the worst they’re going to do to me, send me back to my suite and double my guard detail? It’s still better than what I left behind in Montreal.”

  “All right,” said Quinn as the lights finished their descent on the wall, indicating the doors were about to open. “It’s show time.”

  “I love you,” Bishop whispered.

  “You better,” said Ellie. “And you better come back, or I swear to God, I’ll hunt you all down.”

  Quinn pressed the muzzle of his rifle against her left shoulder blade while Ben did the same to her right. Maggott and Schuster stood at the ready behind them, with Ben, Gloom and Chelsea in the rear. An infrasonic ding rang in their ears like a whisper in a dream, and the doors slid open in front of them.

  “Move it!” Quinn barked, pushing Ellie forward. “Everyone drop your weapons!”

  It was a desperate ploy, he knew, gambling that the guards would be distracted enough by the situation to lose focus for a few precious seconds. It hinged on them not being willing to shock Ellie, a civilian, unless absolutely necessary. Then Gloom could activate her device and lock their shock rifles, and the rest of them could simply repeat what happened outside the suite.

  They pushed their way into the lobby like a phalanx, tight together in a rough square formation.

  “Don’t test him!” Bishop cried. “He’s crazy!”

  Quinn tilted his head to see past Ellie into the room and counted four men in black fatigues standing side-by-side near the front doors. They all looked surprised, but were already raising their rifles.

  Except it wasn’t shock rifles they were holding. Instead, they were armed with old-fashioned TOR-16 non-lethal projectile cannons that fired large, soft rubber projectiles, and were powered not by electricity and computers but by good old-fashioned compressed air.

  “Oh, shit,” he breathed as the wave of red light spread out across the room around them.

  “What the hell was that?” asked
one of the guards.

  “Doesn’t matter,” said the one in the middle, closest to Quinn. He raised his rifle until it was pointed directly between Quinn’s eyes. “Fire.”

  Quinn and Bishop acted instinctively in unison, pushing Ellie to the floor. Quinn spun to his left as a marshmallow-sized round sped through the space where he’d been standing, but Bishop wasn’t as lucky. He took one in the shoulder and it knocked him backward, where he stumbled over Ellie and hit the hard marble floor.

  “Gloom!” Quinn cried. “Green light! Now!” Until she sent out the “curing” wave, their own shock rifles were still scrambled and unable to fire.

  “Working on it!” she called back.

  She, Chelsea and Ben had hit the floor themselves as Quinn, Maggott and Schuster rushed forward, dodging the soft rounds as best they could. Three of them clipped Maggott’s beefy torso in rapid succession, slowing him down but not stopping him.

  The guards closed ranks as they were trained, in an attempt to concentrate fire on the encroaching Jarheads. Maggott, in a move that Quinn would later think of as utterly brilliant, threw himself to the floor in a sideways roll, until his momentum had driven him into the boots of three of the guards. His weight was enough to literally bowl them over, and they all pitched forward toward the floor, forced to drop their rifles or land squarely on their faces.

  Quinn and Schuster flanked the fourth and did a classic over-under, one taking the torso and the other taking the legs. The man stumbled and landed hard, sending his weapon skittering across the floor. Quinn looked up to see Maggott in a melee with the three he’d just knocked down, fists and feet flying as they degenerated into hand-to-hand.

  Then came the green wave of light, reactivating the shock rifles. Quinn dove to the floor and snatched the one he’d left there; to his right, Bishop appeared with the other in his hands, obviously recovered from the shot he’d taken.

  “You okay?”

  “Got a bitch of a bruise, but I’m fine,” said Bishop.

  He and Quinn aimed their rifles at Maggott’s opponents and gave the trigger a half-pull, activating the contact taser function and its trademark blue glow, to let them know they meant business.

  The three guards stopped fighting for a moment to look in their direction, leaving Maggott an opening. He landed a haymaker against one of their heads, knocking him two meters to the left, while the other two raised their hands in surrender.

  Holy shit, Quinn thought. We’re going to pull this off.

  “We just want to get out of here,” said Quinn. “Let us go and no one eats the big blue light show.”

  The others, except Ellie, had taken formation behind him and Bishop, so that the group was facing the two guards standing between them and the exit doors. The one Maggott had walloped still lay unconscious on the floor. Quinn tried to find the one that he and Schuster had tackled, but couldn’t.

  That was a problem. The two guards who were facing them grinned.

  “I don’t think that’s going to happen,” said one. “Look behind you.”

  Bishop nodded that he’d keep his sights on their targets, and Quinn turned his head. The missing fourth guard was standing behind the group, between them and the elevator. In his hands was an NG Spitfire, an automatic rifle that Quinn knew well, as they were standard military issue during the war. And they most definitely fired very real, very high-caliber rounds.

  “Go ahead and use your little toys,” the man sneered. “I’ll be waiting when you’re done.”

  They didn’t stand a chance. The man had the drop on them, and Quinn couldn’t risk rushing him. Drake had assured them that they’d be safe, but he was also working with Zero, which meant they couldn’t count on anything they were told to be true.

  “I can make the shot,” Bishop whispered from beside him. His torso was already half-turned; it would take him a quarter of a second to get his shock rifle in position and fire, and he was the best sniper Quinn had ever worked with.

  The guard frowned and pivoted to his right, away from the group—and toward Ellie.

  “I’d think long and hard about that, friend,” he said coldly.

  Bishop’s face drooped and he lowered his weapon instantly. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Quinn heard a bell.

  A second later, the guard’s torso pitched backward at the waist, as if something had struck him. Then a hand reached out from behind the man’s body and snatched the Spitfire, swinging it like a baseball bat so that it connected with the side of his head with a resounding crack.

  The guard dropped to his knees on the floor, then fell forward onto his face. Behind him stood a man with copper-colored skin and short blond hair, looking at them and shaking his head.

  “Cain’t leave y’all on yer own fer a fuckin’ second,” said Ulysses.

  27

  “What the hell are you doing here?” Quinn asked, eyes wide.

  “We have to get out of here,” said Bishop from behind him, firing his shock rifle at the remaining two guards.

  “He’s right.” Gloom checked the monitor on her hackbox. “There’s less than thirty seconds left on that loop.”

  “I got Tiffany’s hovercraft outside,” said Ulysses. “Let’s go.”

  Bishop jogged to Ellie and swept her into his arms.

  “Come back, damn you,” she breathed.

  “I always have so far,” he replied. They kissed passionately and he ran back to the group. They all turned to give Ellie one last wave and filed out the door and into the waiting hovercraft.

  “The bay,” Quinn ordered as he sat down. The AI responded and pulled into the sparse pre-dawn traffic, heading west.

  Maggott hooted a laugh and slapped Ulysses on the back so hard he pitched forward in his seat.

  “I knew ye couldnae stay away. Ye’re all sentimental o’er us.”

  “Pft!” Ulysses’s brow furrowed. “Yer ass is out the winder, Bigfoot.”

  That made Maggott laugh even harder. “Yuir even talkin’ like me now!”

  Chelsea leaned forward and elbowed Maggott. “Seriously, Ulysses, what are you doing here? And why right now?”

  “I went back to Tiffany’s place in New Richmond last night, n’ she said y’all were back here. I dunno what the hell got into yuh, so I said I was comin’ back to straighten y’all out.”

  “Uh huh,” said Quinn. “Not to admit you were wrong and join us again.”

  Ulysses lifted his middle finger and went on like Quinn hadn’t spoken.

  “Anyways, she gave me a code t’get in the building here. I came in the back way to avoid the Welcome Wagon back there, and when I got up t’yer floor, I saw the guards out cold.” He shook his head. “Knowin’ you, there was some kinda breakout goin’ on, so I figgered I better get down there and bail yuh out.”

  “Wait a minute,” said Chelsea. “If you were at Tiffany’s last night, why didn’t you show up at our building until this morning?”

  Ulysses grinned.

  Chelsea rolled her eyes as she wrapped an arm around his neck and hugged him. “Whatever the reason, thank you. And we’re glad you’re here.”

  “What the hell’s this all about, anyway?” Ulysses looked at Quinn. “I thought it was settled that y’all were sittin’ this thing out.”

  Quinn brought him up to speed with what Frank King had told them about Drake and Zero, and about their plan to hijack the mission to Oberon back from the government.

  “Shee-it,” Ulysses breathed. “Never a dull moment with you folks.”

  “Are ye in?” asked Maggott. “Or are ye gonna sit back and let the men do yuir work for ye, ponce?”

  “Hey man, if it means we can blow Kergan’s ass to kingdom come and pin Zero’s nutsack to the wall when we get back? Ain’t no way I’m missin’ out on that.”

  “Glad to have you back,” said Quinn. “I mean that.”

  “I know yuh do.” Ulysses grinned. “And I s’pose I can admit y’all ain’t the worst people in the world to hitch yer wagon to.”<
br />
  The hovercraft thrummed through the streets until it reached the waterfront.

  “Further instructions needed,” the AI said in a sultry female voice.

  Quinn gave it the coordinates of Toomey’s lair.

  “That island is uninhabited,” the AI warned. “The terrain—”

  “Just take us there.”

  The hovercraft glided down a cobblestone slope that led to the water. Its air bladder expanded as the vehicle fully engaged the rear rotors and sailed toward the rocky outcropping that was their destination.

  “Report,” Quinn said to Schuster.

  He looked up from his wrist display. “They’re ready and waiting. I get the sense they’re not too happy about it, but I reminded them how their careers would be going if you and Ulysses hadn’t played one-on-one with those security droids.”

  “Hey, you were a big part o’ that, too,” said Ulysses. “Don’t sell yerself short.”

  “Well, Sloane was a big part of it, anyway.” Schuster shrugged. “Sometimes I feel like I’m just along for the ride.”

  Quinn saw his eyes gloss over for a moment, and he suddenly wondered if he needed to be worried. But Schuster was back to himself again just as quickly.

  “Sloane says he couldn’t do it without me, either,” he said. “So it’s a mutual admiration society.”

  “I ain’t never gonna get used to that,” said Ulysses. “You sharin’ yer head n’all.”

  “Trying being the guy who actually has the roommate,” Schuster sighed.

  Quinn glanced out the window as the hovercraft made its way along the calm waters of the bay. Under other circumstances, watching the sunrise in such a beautiful setting would have been a memory that would last a lifetime, particularly for someone from the slums of New York. But right now, it was just an annoyance.

  “We won’t have the cover of darkness,” he warned. “We’ll be coming into a heavily guarded facility in daylight, armed with a couple of shock rifles. Wish we’d known you were coming back, Ulysses; we would have asked you to do a little shopping for us.”