by Nya Rawlyns
“My clothes. They didn’t change!”
She leaned over and felt the slick leather straps glide across her small breasts, no longer binding her tight. The only thing keeping them in relatively the same place was an ornamental silver pin that anchored the pieces of leather together between her breasts. If she moved quickly, the straps slipped off to the side or toward her navel and she was left with no foundation garment. She had no other word for what the strange attachments could possibly be called.
Jake grunted, “Well, make ’em change. I’ve got a tangled length of line here and I can’t see well enough anymore, so for God’s sake shut up for a coupla minutes while I work it out.”
Caitlin mumbled, “Shit,” and turned to watch the approaching chopper. It had yet to turn on its high-powered floods; once the pilot did that, her dad would see just fine and they’d be perfect targets.
“Let me help. My hands are a little more flexible than yours.”
Jake flipped a length of line back to her, then knelt awkwardly and fished a metal box out of the innards of the storage closet. He opened and removed something that glinted briefly in the ambient light. The solid snick of a magazine being loaded into a weapon and the chink of metal-on-metal rang loud and clear as the waves of shouts from Greyfalcon’s militia faded briefly. The ‘pfft-pfft’ of the chopper dissipated as it dropped below rooftop level, obviously landing somewhere in the parking area. Jake motioned her closer. He looked like he had a plan, one she wasn’t going to like.
“Come here. I’m gonna put this here harness on you,” Jake explained as he
strapped a climber’s harness onto her thin frame, “and then I’ll anchor you to one of the pitons I put in place awhile back. I’ve got ’em on every floor except the first two. Figured I could survive a two story fall easy enough.”
Caitlin spat out, “Not now you couldn’t,” trying for levity but the worry and
uncertainty came across as surly and spiteful. Before she could apologize her father hissed, “Don’t you give me lip, we don’t have time. You listen and listen good.”
Stammering, “I-I’m…” she failed to find the words to cover her anxiety.
32
“Never mind that. Before the chopper goes airborne again and lights us up like a Christmas tree, I’m going to create a distraction.”
“I don’t like the sound of that, Dad.”
“You’re not supposed to, girl.” Jake moved in close and spoke into her ear, “Over to my right, other side of this A/C unit, round the corner, is the main parking lot. They’ll be keeping a close eye on the van, expecting us to make a break for it at some point, if we can. They’re not dumb. They’ll have figured out we’re on the roof and they’ll send a team up the stairs, if they ain’t already on the way. The chopper will light us up and herd us to them.” “Do they want us alive?” Caitlin could barely form the words, not sure she wanted an answer.
“Oh, yes indeed. Alive, but not necessarily unharmed. I want to minimize the
damage.” Jake took her chin in his hand. “It’s not your fault, girl. You did good.”
“But, Dad, if I hadn’t shifted, if…”
“Don’t worry about it. We both screwed up. We’ll deal with it. I need for you to get to the ground and get somewhere safe. I can handle Knutr’s goon squad.” Squeezing her shoulder, he gave her a small shove toward the ledge.
****
Trey watched what looked like a military exercise from a small bluff near the
Liberty Reservoir on the western edge of the industrial park where he’d determined Greyfalcon’s location. It afforded a reasonable view of the headquarters and the main parking area. He used a high-powered scope to augment his already enhanced vision.
He was intrigued when an older man and a younger woman exited from a decrepit
minivan. They disappeared from his vantage point once they climbed the steps to the main entrance.
Though there was no way to know for sure what was going on, he could make an
educated guess. The ninth floor remained well lit while the remaining floors had cycled down to evening status. Wherever the two were going, it surely had to be there. When he’d scanned across the woman, he’d had a strange sensation in his gut—almost a
recognition of sorts, though he’d never seen her before. The older man also pinged a memory cell. He’d seen his face but couldn’t come up with a time or place.
He set the custom-built Tactical M40T4 rifle with the Nightforce scope onto a
portable sandbag mounting device. He flicked the sand sock at the rear out of the way and sighted carefully. He was well outside the thousand-yard range and would need to get closer if he wanted to take out any of the targets.
His uncle’s “you are there to observe only” admonition rankled. He seldom got
this close to a Greyfalcon nest of vipers. To lose the opportunity to reduce the numbers of the competition seemed a serious waste of time and effort. He had no idea what more intel he could learn as a glorified peeping tom.
The last words of the O’Brien woman flashed through his consciousness: “You
will know her as your own.” It played on an internal feedback loop like an inane song that repeats endlessly, testing patience and sanity alike. The image of the young woman, her height and body build, all reminded him of something. He tried to dismiss the outlandish uniform, if indeed that’s what it was. There was no mistaking the sniper rifle slung at her hip. She was there as more than eye candy.
33
He mused, red hair, there’s something wrong with that. He gathered up the rifle and its supports and lunged to his feet. He’d have to think on why such a bodacious Amazon would tickle his fancy. You might want to rephrase that, he smirked to himself.
Turning away from the tree line, he ambled down a narrow deer trail and dropped off a small bank onto a dirt road. The Porsche lay hidden in a narrow opening in the forest, well away from the cones of light from vehicles driving on that lonely stretch of road.
The reservoir might attract young lovers and gang member’s intent on business
transactions, but during the middle of the week he doubted he’d need to concern himself with that. He’d had his techs alarm the vehicle for silent operation. His implant would alert him to any tampering.
He loved technology. If only he could transport the M40 through the Portals he
would be a happy man. He stroked the barrel fondly, but his thoughts morphed into a vision of him caressing the long, lean thigh of the redhead in the ridiculous outfit. All she was good for, the sniper rifle notwithstanding, was a distraction. That thought kick-started a chain reaction. Trey broke into a run toward his vehicle. Something wasn’t right. His gut told him so, and it was seldom wrong.
****
“You got it loose?”
“And coiled, yes sir.” Caitlin found it oddly satisfying to revert to addressing Jake as if he were still military. She guessed you could take the man out of the Marines but you’d never take the Marines out of the man. That sounded like something he’d
drummed into her and Kieran from a young age. Such mantras afforded a measure of calm in the face of certain disaster.
Jake went into a semi-crouch and crab-stepped his way across the roof to a point where a ventilation shaft and the roof ledge sat no more than three feet apart. It would shield her from the helicopter, which would lift from the opposite end to their position and afford her precious seconds for her leap of faith.
Jake rapidly threaded one end of the mountaineering rope through the rappel
anchor, pairing it with the opposite end. After pulling the ends to the halfway point, he quickly tied them off with a figure-eight knot, then tossed the rope over the edge of the building, all the while giving his daughter last minute instructions.
“It’s just like we did at the gym; you walk your way down and lean back like I
showed you.”
Jake adjusted the climbing harness, gave Caitlin
a pat on her cheek and helped
her up on the ledge.
“This is the hard part, darlin’. Hop back and out, easy like. I’ll stay and get you started.”
Caitlin moaned, “Dad, I can’t leave you.”
“It’ll be fine. Don’t go into the woods. They’ll be expecting you to head to the section over by the reservoir.”
“Where should I go?”
“There’s a coupla fair sized corporate buildings across the road. Angle to the
south, along the tree line, and then cut over. You can ease your way in. Be like running a maze for them. Stay low ’til the dust clears. Then head on home.”
“What then, Dad? Won’t they be waiting for me?”
34
“I’ll, uh, tell them otherwise. You just get on home, pack and get the hell out of there. You know where the Jeep’s located. The key’s under that rock; you know the one?” Caitlin nodded, tears stinging her eyes. Jake took a shirtsleeve and roughly wiped her face.
Caitlin teetered on the ledge as Jake peered down to check for any activity. She took a deep breath and lightly floated away from the building to land six feet lower, her booted feet pressed against a narrow vent. If she bobbed up and down she could still catch a glimpse of the action on the roof.
Jake muttered, “Love you,” and skittered back to the A/C unit. The helicopter
rotors had begun their slow whine as they picked up speed. He knew it would be all over soon. He yanked his Glock from the waistband of his pants, picked up an ancient AK-47
off the floor, and made best speed to the front of the building. Though the pilot was likely a GFI lackey, he was determined not to risk possibly harming a civilian. He had too much death on his hands already.
He listened for the tell tale sounds of an assault on the safety door. Knutr would carefully orchestrate the attack to minimize the damage, at least to Caitlin. The capo would want the helicopter in position first, with his men at the safety door ready to storm the roof, while the rest of his militia guarded other egress points. He eyed several vehicles scattered about the parking area, two hemming in their ancient mini-van. Jake sighted down the AK-47’s barrel and proceeded to lay a pattern around the chopper and the closest vehicles. Even from the roof, he saw the pilot’s panicked look as he backed up and away from the building, frantically trying to gain altitude and distance. Satisfied that the pilot would continue north and away from Caitlin’s position, he dropped the magazine, inserted a new one and proceeded to make mincemeat of the vehicles within range.
****
Trey pulled into the driveway leading to a set of squat office buildings slightly south and across the road from Greyfalcon headquarters. He killed the vehicle lights as he idled into the parking lot.
“What the hell?” Trey gasped as World War III erupted across the road from his
position. He gunned the Porsche and barrelled around the corner of the building out of range of any stray bullets. He parked it toward the rear of the lot, in a relatively dark area. The flat black of the finish would help camouflage the car from any casual passers-by. He jumped out and ran back to the road, taking care to keep to the shadows.
A helicopter rose at a sharp angle and skittered across his field of view, the pilot having trouble controlling the craft. Trey could sense something amiss with the craft as it canted right and slipped below the trees to the north of GFI’s building. Since there’d been no explosion, he had to assume it had landed more or less intact, but he doubted it would be operational any time soon.
The spat of gunfire had a familiar sound, the AK-47 quite distinctive compared
with his own custom weapon. He watched as men scattered to the left of the building toward the dense underbrush at the perimeter of the parking lot. To the right, the way lay open to the road into the industrial park, but it lacked cover. Trey noted how the shooter laid a sweep in a north-south line at ninety degrees to the main body now 35
making haste toward the woods, almost as if he were herding them for a particular reason. None were kill shots, though here and there one of the men on the ground would cry out as bullets ricocheted off any number of surfaces.
Trey rubbed his chin, not exactly sure what to do. He had no cause to join the fray and would be best served to stay out of sight until he could determine who was on which side. His gut told him the shooter on the roof might be an ally, but he wasn’t convinced it was wise to intervene at that point. The image of the young woman buzzed in his head.
It had him in its grip and refused to let go. It couldn’t hurt to manoeuvre around to the rear of the building and see if there was anything of interest out of everyone’s line of sight.
Using his low center of gravity, he sped behind the next building and then cut across the road to come up somewhat south and east of GFI’s headquarters. The
shooting continued but the dense woods and the building itself blocked most of the sound. He listened carefully for the chopper but only heard the sound of his own heartbeat and a soft rustling in the brush off to his left. He ducked into a crouch in a dense stand of rhododendron, slowed his breathing and set his shields at minimum. He wanted to hear what was going on but not be locked in a soundproof box and miss all the action. The warm air wavered and danced, then settled as he concentrated on
holding the energy steady. For some reason he’d always found it easier to deal with the enormous energy requirements of a Portal rather than the narrow focus of his personal body shield.
Booted feet rushed past his position. He recognized the buckles running up the
calves of the boots. It was the woman from the van. Or was it? Though on a low setting, the wavelengths refracted enough that it made getting a clear picture a challenge. He could have sworn that the woman had red hair, violently red, no mistake about it. And she’d been … curvaceous. The vision floating past him looked like a scarecrow, tall, but reed thin and in no way warrior-like. She wore the same outfit, though it hung loose and not quite functional, like she’d been playing dress-up with her warrior mother’s clothes.
He couldn’t tell for sure if she were armed, though he doubted it. There was nowhere to hide a weapon in that get-up.
The woman scooted across the road using the same line he’d chosen. He looked
up to GFI’s roof. Where it had been dark before, it now glowed like an illuminated football field. The firing had ceased and the indistinct shouting of men giving and taking orders indicated that the shooter was either dead or in hand. He had no doubt that the older man had given himself up in place of the woman making her way toward the two buildings across the road.
****
Jake lay bleeding on the ground with a gut wound that looked worse than it was.
He was sure the bullet had passed straight through. All they needed to do was get the bleeding under control, though nobody moved to make it so. They all hung back, weapons pointed at his head. He was a dead man if he so much as twitched. After what seemed like an eternity, Knutr puffed his way through the safety door and approached his captive cautiously.
Knutr waved a man wearing a white lab coat forward and pointed to his captive.
“Tend to him, then bring him to the examination room.”
36
Jake breathed a sigh of relief. Knutr could have had him shot. That the capo
seemed willing to tend to his wound indicated that he hadn’t run out of cards to play. He surely didn’t hold a good hand, but it was all he had. He needed to hang on just a little longer for Caitlin to make her escape.
The medic slipped a needle in his arm. The last thing he heard was Knutr asking
one of his men where ‘the woman’ had got to.
“Gone, Sir. Found some tracks and broken limbs off toward the reservoir. We’ve
called in the dogs and sent two squads out to track her.”
“Good, make sure you have her by…”
****
Trey set up shields and waited until the two squads were we
ll past his position.
He’d made a quick dash along a hiking trail, veering off to the left and right erratically, just as a human would do when rushing through dense woods in the dark. He swiped at bushes and low hanging limbs to recreate a scene of chaotic and frantic flight, leaving boot marks on the soft dirt. The woman was as tall as he though she massed only half his not inconsiderable bulk. He doubted, in the dark, the pursuers would know the
difference.
He trotted quickly across the road and skidded around the corner of the first
building. Satisfied he hadn’t been noticed, he risked a peek toward the access road as a truck with holding pens for dogs approached at speed and turned into the drive to GFI.
If the woman had left a discrete piece of clothing or anything that could be used for scent, it wouldn’t take long for them to figure out the subterfuge. If they took a dual scent off the older man, it would take time to sort it out. He’d need that time to find the woman. She likely did not enter the first building if she were smart. He couldn’t risk her making the poor choice and having him go off on a fool’s search wasting valuable time.
Trey assumed she would have used one of the rear entrances. He touched each of
the push bars in turn seeking an energy signature. The one on the far end still retained residual heat. He muttered, “Damn it, woman.”
He pulsed an energy wave at the card reader and cracked the door open. Other
than enhanced vision, he had few tracking abilities. Two of his brothers excelled at that and he’d always been jealous of that ability for it brought honour and approval from Gunnarr. His special ‘gift’—as Eirik called it—did not manifest until long after he’d thrown his lot in with the Althing. He doubted his father even knew that he carried the ability to fashion Portals from time-space. It was a secret few knew outside the closed-mouth circle of scientists who guarded him and their research with a blood oath to the death.
He’d need to work a search pattern. If she were moving he’d be screwed for he’d