Masks (Out of the Box Book 9)

by Robert J. Crane

  “What?”

  “Well, the SWAT van is gone,” I said. “Maybe they decided to breach at the rear of the building.” I flew over the back alley and peered down. She followed behind me, but slower. There were patrol cops down there, but no sign of the SWAT team. I did a quick loop of the block while Jamie watched, but there was no sign of SWAT at all. “That’s just weird. Why would they leave?”

  “Coming up through the sewers?” Jamie asked.

  “I doubt it,” I said. “In spite of what they show on TV, most businesses don’t have easy sewer access, or tunnels, or anything like that.”

  “Could they have dropped their guys and moved the van?” she asked.

  “Maybe …” I said, and watched below as Forsythe stalked out of the command center, walkie in hand, suit coat flapping in the wind. I held up a hand to hush Jamie as I listened to him a few hundred feet below.

  “Where the hell is SWAT?” he shouted at the nearest patrol officer, who shrugged and pointed to where the van had been a few minutes earlier.

  “Curiouser and curiouser,” Jamie said.

  “Yeah,” I said, frowning. This was weird, no doubt, but I had other priorities at the moment than solving this mystery. “Without SWAT to breach and clear, my guess is they’re gonna have to sit on their hands for a bit, because these robbers have got a pretty sweet setup inside. They try and go in, it’s gonna end with a lot of bodies on the floor.”

  “What if we went in?” Jamie asked after a brief pause. She sounded almost sly suggesting it. “Our way, you know.”

  “You got a method for moving those hostages out of the line of fire?”

  “I could probably do something about that,” and now she sounded really sly. “It’s not difficult.”

  I raised an eyebrow at her. “Well, all right then. I think we might have just become these peoples’ best hope, cuz …” I looked down at Forsythe, screaming frantically at the cops around him and waving his hands like a madman, “… I’m guessing if we leave this to him, it’s not going to go well.”

  32.

  Jamie

  Outlining a plan hadn’t taken long at all. Jamie was surprised, though she realized partway through their discussion that she shouldn’t have been. This was Sienna’s job, after all, and whatever else she’d heard about this woman, she was brutally effective at it.

  The sun was already heating Jamie up in her costume and it wasn’t yet midday. She drifted closer to the ground, the cops on the pavement below glancing up and trying to wave her off. She got the gist; they thought they had this under control, and while she admired their enthusiasm, everything she’d seen and heard jibed completely with Sienna’s assessment—the cops were fine people, but the commander of this post was some kind of moron.

  She stopped about fifteen feet off the ground, drifting against the wall of the building opposite the bank. From here she could see the hints of the layout that Sienna had mentioned. Shade was scarce, and the glare of the overhead sun was making it exceedingly difficult to see through the windows. There were shadows there, but only shadows, and it took her a few minutes to really discern what she was looking at.

  She picked out the man with the rifle easily enough, and marked him. He did, indeed, have his weapon trained at the heads of the hostages, she could see that much. She did her thing once she’d picked him out, waving a quick hand and then checking again to make sure she’d done as she thought she’d done. Verify, verify, verify. She couldn’t be too careful here, not with so many lives at stake.

  It took her about five minutes to set up, and another five to feel confident that she’d done everything properly. She took a few breaths of the stifling, warm air, and then yanked a patrolman’s cap off his head down the street, causing it to zip right to her fingers. Once she had it, she held it her hands for a few seconds, feeling the cloth bill between her fingers.

  Then she raised a hand and propelled it up into the air, using channels along the way to send it arcing over the block in front of her.

  Go time, she thought, and then she activated all the gravity channels she’d spent the last ten minutes setting up and then verifying. The next sound she heard was breaking glass, followed by gunfire and screams.

  33.

  Sienna

  I was hovering in the back alley when the thump! of a cop’s hat landing on the roof next to me caught my attention. I let out a long breath, then drew another, dropped several stories to the ground, and ripped the steel alley door off the back of the bank.

  Something exploded behind the door, and I ducked away as a claymore mine peppered the wall opposite the door with steel ball bearings. A cloud of dust filled the air, and as soon as the explosion was finished I ignored the ringing in my ears and jumped through the half-destroyed doorframe.

  Normally, when I’m breaching and clearing, I have a gun. In this case, though, I didn’t, and since I was presently being slightly rebellious in my following of the law, I just had a finger pointed in case I needed Gavrikov to swiftly fire a blast of superheated plasma the size of a bullet. It was a little more effective (read: lethal) than a handgun, but I wasn’t aiming to kill anyone here.

  I just wanted to put these dogs down so the police could question them and find out I was right and Forsythe was wrong, wrong, wrong. Sometimes happiness and results go hand in hand.

  The sound of breaking glass echoed through the hallway in front of me as I snaked through a long corridor. I passed a break room on my left then what I suspected was a vault on my right as I hurried ahead to a blind corner. I paused when I heard footsteps over the ringing in my ears. They stopped as the sound of gunfire blasted hard from the lobby of the bank, and I paused, hoping like hell that Jamie had done her thing.

  There was someone right past this corner, probably an armed someone who had come to check on the alarm—the explosive—on the back door. I darted low and slid on my knees, guessing that whoever was waiting for me was momentarily distracted by the hubbub in the bank.

  I came around the corner at a glide, using my flight powers to lift me a centimeter off the ground as I slipped past under the barrel of a rifle. The wielder of the weapon had made a rookie mistake; his gun was pointed like he was about to corner, but his eyes were facing the opposite direction.

  Whoops.

  I grabbed the barrel at meta speed and yanked, ripping it right out of the guy’s grasp. It caught, bound to his shoulders and body by a sling, and ripped him forward, taking him off balance. I raised a forearm and altered my course to get back to my feet, leaping up to his height and clotheslining him with a strong forearm. His legs flew from beneath him, and he made a gagging sound from the impact at his throat. I slammed him hard into the ground, his tactical helmet protecting his skull from splitting open on the tile.

  I flicked out the pin holding the AR-15 assembly together, and then twisted the whole damned thing so that the rifle would never work again. Then I grabbed the guy’s pistol out of his holster as he was reaching for it, eyes glazed over behind his bulletproof visor, snapped up the Plexiglas and punched him in the face before I threw him back around the corner without a lot of ceremony. I heard him hit the concrete wall and slide, unconscious, to the ground.

  There was one more corner in front of me, and now I had a pistol in hand, a nifty Sig Sauer P226 TacOps model. Hampton had trained me with one of these; he called it the best 9mm he’d ever shot. The Secret Service and a ton of police departments swore by it, but Parks hadn’t loved the original so I’d never given the variants a look until Hampton had shown me this one. I didn’t love it enough to give up Shadow, but it was a near thing.

  I hurried toward the last corner and saw an open vault door ahead of me. It looked like these robbers had already done their thing; the door was wide open, like they’d just come in and gotten whatever they wanted. I could hear the commotion beyond, and I didn’t hesitate. I ran the last few steps, my feet flying on solid air so as not to make any noise, and I came around the corner with my pistol rais
ed, hoping that I’d made it in time to save the lives of the hostages.

  34.

  Jamie

  When she activated the gravity channels she’d painstakingly set up, Jamie had been expecting a mess. She’d been expecting chaos, surprise, broken glass, gunfire, scared people shouting at the top of their lungs.

  She got all of that and more.

  Jamie felt like a symphony director when she set it all off, waving her hands. It all seemed to happen at once, but she knew that what was going on was actually launching off in phases.

  The first phase was the gravity wells attached to the robber hiding just inside the door. She’d set up a channel between him and the black SUV just outside, and also between his gun and the back wall of the bank. These two were in opposing directions, and when she activated the channels, she did not spare the force on them.

  The result was immediate, and loud.

  The robber smashed through the glass front door with a heavy tactical helmet meant to stop bullets. The impact was about the same as a modest-sized car going thirty miles an hour, and his scream cut off as he ripped through the bullet-resistant glass, the gravity well tearing him through as the SUV bucked against the curb. The door tore off its hinges and the robber slammed into the SUV before thumping to the curb.

  The second thing Jamie heard was the smashing of the front windows of the bank as the channels she’d set up along their surface shattered them outward, covering the sidewalk with glass and giving her a clear view into the bank now that the reflective surface between them was gone. She’d already set the next bit into motion, but now she was able to confirm that her assumptions had been correct, and she could make any adjustments needed without having to worry about operating blind.

  The third thing she heard was the sound of gunfire as the robber with his rifle primed to execute the hostages fired. She could see him clearly, his finger touching the trigger as the weapon was ripped from his hands and pulled in the opposite direction. She’d set up a channel to the wall behind him and the rifle broke his finger on its unerring path away from him, drawing a scream as the robber was ripped in the opposite direction, hurled through the now-broken window by the channel she’d set between him and the nearest police car. He slammed into it like a javelin, smashing into it head first and dropping, insensate, to the curb.

  Jamie had moved as soon as things started into motion, hurtling toward the open window. She ducked inside just after the gunman shot out on his path toward the police car. She caught his landing out of the corner of her eye, but paid no heed after that, because she had done almost everything she could from outside.

  Now it was time to finish the job from within.

  Fifteen gravity channels ran from the street outside through the front door and to the hostages. She’d activated every one of these with the rest, on a slight delay from the one she’d attached to the robber by the door. She’d also set one against the remainder of the front door and anchored it to the facade of the building across the street. She activated this one now and heard a satisfying sound of hinges giving way as the door ripped free and flew across the street to smash against a brick wall, held in place by her power.

  And then, out of the corner of her eye, she watched the hostages dragged screaming out the front door single-file by the channels she’d attached to their ankles. They slid along on their backs, flailing at the sudden loss of control they were experiencing at the hands of an unseen force.

  Gunfire sounded in front of her as a robber stepped up from behind a desk to her right. She saw him just as he was leveling the gun, and she had almost no time to respond.

  But she was still ready.

  Jamie threw out a hand and watched the robber stroke the trigger as though in slow motion. His finger pulsed, and the sound of a gunshot went muffled as the bullet tried to escape the barrel but hit the gravity well she’d set to plug it from within. The gases released in the chamber as the chemical reaction that propelled the bullet were left with nowhere to go, shut in by Jamie’s maneuver.

  The gun exploded in the robber’s hands. The man staggered back, his black tactical clothing and helm disappearing in a brief fog of chemical smoke.

  To her left, Jamie could see the office that had been in the front left window of the storefront, and hiding just behind it, here in the main lobby, were three more men with guns. They had been using the office for cover, and now she could see them plainly, their weapons poised, like they’d been trying to get a shot off at the hostages before they’d been dragged out the door. They’d failed fortunately, but now they were adjusting their aim for her—adjusting, and apparently taking in what she’d just done to the other member of their team.

  She raised her left hand and threw gravity wells into each of their weapons before they had a chance to pull them, even as she moved forward to engage them herself. She was working on instinct, hurrying because they were still a potential threat, the three of them, if they managed to get free of the building. Jamie anchored herself to the wall behind them and launched herself forward into their midst as they shed their weapons. One grasped for a knife, another for a pistol, and she dropped between the three of them, at the center of an oblong triangle, as they came at her with intent to kill.

  The one to her left, between her and the office, swung a short-bladed knife at her. Jamie set up a channel between the blade and the teller counter, then activated it and swept back, letting his blow drag him forward as she slowly upped the intensity of the channel. It took the robber a moment to realize what was happening, to feel the unnatural tug of gravity taking him off course, and he stumbled before he let go of the knife, buying her a moment while he was off balance to deal with the next threat.

  She could feel another in motion behind her and she threw a clumsy back kick to try and divert his attack. She connected, but weakly, hitting him in the side and knocking him back several steps and out from behind the cover of the office. She heard gunfire from outside, and the man leapt forward in a hard dive, hitting the ground and rolling as Jamie moved to deal with her last foe.

  This one had a pistol out and was taking aim when she came back to him. She pointed a finger and activated a gravity well within this weapon, this time anchoring the bullet within the cartridge. When he stroked the trigger, the slide mushroomed off the top of the gun and hit him in the Plexiglas visor, causing cracks to blossom as he stumbled, lurching to one side.

  The robber who’d dived behind her was up on his feet again, this time between her and the office, pulling a knife as he rose. He slashed at her, and Jamie didn’t quite get a bead on him in time; he caught her in the leg, and she felt a searing pain run down the outside of her left thigh. She grunted and threw out a hand, reacting without thought.

  The robber with the knife was propelled back, hitting the glass window that separated the bank from the manager’s office. He backflipped, hit his head with a solid thud on the desk within, then cartwheeled outside and slammed into the black escape SUV that they’d left parked on the curb.

  Jamie cringed. She hadn’t meant to do that; it looked like it hurt quite a lot.

  The sound of a gunshot behind her made her spin, dropping her back into the fight. The robber whose rifle she’d blown up across the lobby was on his feet again, a pistol in hand now. She anchored him to the back wall and set the channel to motion. He was ripped off his feet and hurtled over the counter with a scream, where he slammed into the back wall about five feet off the ground and then fell out of sight behind the wooden teller counter with a crunch.

  There were still two more enemies here, though, and Jamie thrust out a hand to deal with the first, the one she’d taken off balance by channeling his knife toward the counter. He was up and coming at her with his fists up like boxer, and she neatly dodged his first punch as though he were a drunk and she were a world champion. Metahuman powers will do that, she thought, and sidestepped his next attempt.

  She ran a gravity channel from the back of her elbow to the wall
behind her and pushed her punch forward with all her strength and the channel itself to give it a little extra oomph. She hit the man in the midsection and even through his thick vest she heard ribs break as he went flying. She anchored him to the wall as he hit and he stuck there, suspended, unconscious and sideways, against an indentation in the drywall.

  And that leaves one.

  She spun on the last robber to find him with his hands up and a grenade dangling, without a pin, from his fingers. “Let me out,” he said simply, “or I let this go.”

  She stared at him blankly for a second, and then set up a channel that ripped the grenade right out of his hand. It shot to hers, and she made twelve fast channels all pointing within, so that when it detonated, it did so with a Pffffft! sound, and not a single fragment made its way out of her palm, nor did she feel any effect from it. It remained nothing but a little lump of metal and gas as the heat from it fizzled out within a second.

  “Next?” she asked the last robber with a smile, but before he could answer she anchored his helmet to the floor in front of him and activated the channel, causing him to lose his footing and faceplant into the ground at high speed. His body went limp and his fingers went slack, no more weapons clutched within them.

  “So …” came a droll voice from the hallway behind the teller counter as Sienna Nealon popped out with a pistol in her hands, “you kinda didn’t really need me for this …” She slid to the right and hurled an unconscious robber from behind the counter. He landed a few feet away from her, still unconscious, without making so much as a moan of protest.

  “What if they’d had more hostages in the back?” Jamie asked, feeling a little weak and lightheaded from her effort. Also, exhilarated. She hadn’t really engaged in hand-to-hand combat before, and it had been one heck of a frightening experience, but also something of a rush. “It’s nice to have help.”