Caught off guard, Taylor didn't realize what had happened for a crucial instant. In that time, Ryan scrambled backward, getting the column between himself and his attacker.
Drawing his own weapon, Ryan threw his back into the column. Pain arced down his arm, muscle ripped from bone. It hung useless at his side. Ryan accepted the pain and listened. He heard Taylor kick into action on the opposite side of the column. Laing matched Taylor's movement. The two circled, keeping the column between them.
Ryan smoothed into the cycle, hunting for a clean shot, finger on the trigger. His consciousness fell to a sweep of action and reaction, a dance of predator and prey. His perception reached a clarity he hadn't thought possible. Movement. He caught the twitch of Taylor's cheek muscle as the man cleared the column, heard the sound of his finger pulling the trigger.
The shots came lightning fast. Bullets chipped the column, whizzed past Ryan's head, one stinging his ear. Ryan held steady.
He sensed the man lean away from the column's protection, trying for the clean shot. Amid Taylor's firestorm, Ryan pulled the trigger. One bullet. A perfect shot. Taylor's firing stopped. His hand fell, gun splashing into the water.
Taylor stood still. A trickle of blood slipped down his forehead and over his cheek. His face went slack. He crumpled as if caught in slow time.
Laing watched Zachary Taylor disappear into the black water.
“You are a hard man to kill.” Krueger's voice—looming close. Too close.
Ryan spun, trying to bring his weapon around. But the dead weight of his wounded arm threw off his balance. Before he could bring his gun to bear, Krueger lashed out, punching Ryan in the stomach. The strike sent electric pain through him. Laing toppled in a gut-lurching wave of nausea. The gun fell from his hand.
Through waves of exhaustion, Laing sensed Krueger closing the distance between them. He tried to get to his feet, but before he could, Krueger reached down, fingers digging deep into Laing's shoulder wound.
Ryan screamed in pain, the sound piercing the firefight continuing behind them. Tears boiled from his eyes. Through them, Ryan could just make out Krueger's thin-line smile.
“You are good,” Krueger said. “Very good. I'll give Turing credit. He created a perfect killing machine.”
“As did EMPYRE,” Laing managed.
Krueger only nodded. “There's no need for you to die here.” With his free hand, Krueger pulled the disk from his jacket. “Help me use this.”
“You don't need me.” A whisper.
Krueger's lips curled. “No. But you need me.” He returned the disk to his pocket.
Ryan's head wobbled. Krueger gripped down on his shredded arm. “Face the truth, Ryan. You needed Turing to give meaning to your life. You were lost without him. Now, you need me.”
“You are a monster.”
“I'm what the world requires.”
Ryan's eyes glazed out.
“Sarah is gone,” Krueger said. “There's nothing left for you, Ryan.”
Ryan shook his head, as if trying to banish the reality he'd fallen into.
“No. No more.” The words fell from Laing's lips. A pronouncement. Ryan began to stand.
Krueger gripped hard on his shoulder, grinding muscle and bone. “You can't stop me, Laing. It's over.”
Pain drove Ryan to the edge of unconsciousness. He held the line, rising to his full height.
For the first time, fear torqued Krueger's features. He released Laing's shoulder and turned to run. Laing stumbled after him, knowing he was down to the last dregs of his energy.
Ryan lunged, snagging Krueger with his good arm. The two splashed down. Expecting the jolting impact of the cistern's floor, Laing got only a black descent. As he sunk, locked on Krueger, he realized that the floor in this section must have collapsed.
Krueger thrashed. Ryan's strength ebbed with each passing second. He gripped down with everything in him, but Krueger managed to slip free and kick for the surface. Laing, fighting to maintain consciousness, gulped black water.
Lost in the darkness, only the fight remained. He shot out a hand, snagging Krueger's ankle and dragging him down. Then pain blasted through him—Krueger's fingers scratching over his stomach, expanding the wound.
Ryan wrapped his legs around Krueger, locking them together. He ran his good hand down his leg, hunting. Ryan knew he only had seconds. After that, Krueger would inflict more damage than the drones could repair. As the pain mounted to an unbearable apex, Laing found what he'd been searching for. He pulled the Blazer from its holster.
Falling into black, he ground the device into Krueger's chest. The hooks set deep, burrowing into the man's skin. Krueger flailed, ripping at his chest. Laing wrapped his arms around Krueger's chest, pinning the man's arms.
Detonation. The heat surge flashed their underwater world to vivid clarity. The incendiary shredded Krueger's sternum. Water churned to a boil.
As his feet hit bottom, Laing's arms folded into his chest.
There was nothing left of Alfred Krueger.
49
BASILICA CISTERN, ISTANBUL, TURKEY
Dripping, Laing staggered back to the platform. The drones stanched the blood flow from the bullet wounds and burns covering his body. Krueger's men were dead. The fight was over. Reaching the platform, the mercs broke ranks for him. Laing pushed past them to see Frank hun-kered over Sarah. Ryan nodded to Frank's unspoken question.
“Good,” Frank said. “He needed to die.”
“How did you find us?” Ryan asked.
“The CIA isn't entirely useless.”
Laing looked at him and laughed. “No. I guess it's not.”
“The disk?” Frank asked.
“Gone,” Ryan said.
“But it's still in you, right? I mean, you downloaded the virus.”
Laing's eyes went cold. “I won't give it to you. Not to you. Not to anyone.”
Frank bore down on him for a long moment. “It's a mistake, Ryan. No one person should have that kind of power.”
“Is that why you came here? To retrieve the virus?”
Another long moment. Finally, Frank shook his head. “No...” His mouth stayed open, as if to say more, but nothing came out.
Laing nodded. He moved to Sarah.
“She's okay, Ryan. Broken ribs, some internal bleeding. But she'll live.”
Ryan crouched, pulling a wisp of hair from the clotted blood on her cheek. She woke, her good eye slowly focusing on him. She took in her surroundings over long seconds.
Frank backed away.
Heat flushed Ryan. The pain in his stomach and shoulder flash flamed. He fell into the sensation. “Sarah . . .” he whispered. An exclamation. A prostration. He cupped her cheek in his hand, then leaned close and kissed her.
The touch of her lips was soft and welcome. He pushed closer, craving connection. Under him, Sarah did not retreat. But she did not return his kiss. He pulled away.
“Who are you?” Sarah asked.
The question iced Ryan.
She looked up at him, her fingers softly touching her lips.
Ryan shook his head. “It doesn't matter. Not anymore.”
He stood, breaking contact.
Frank put a hand on Laing's shoulder, blocking further retreat. “We'll get her memory back,” Frank said.
Laing shook his head.
“Then just fuckin' be with her, Laing,” Frank said, adamant.
Ryan did not pull his gaze from Frank. He couldn't. If he looked down at Sarah now, it would be over. “No,” he said, his words forced through gritted pain. “I'm not the man she loved. Not anymore. It's better for her to forget. Better for me.”
Frank held his gaze for a long moment, then nodded. He put out his hand. Ryan shook it.
“I'm sorry,” Frank whispered.
“Take care of her,” Laing said.
Frank nodded. “What will you do?”
“Fade.”
“Ryan, word will get out. Others will want what's in y
our head.”
“I know.”
They held for a final second, then Laing turned away. Frank signaled for the mercs to let him pass.
Ryan Laing dropped into the water and was soon lost to the maze.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
From idea to finished product, EMPYRE has been a whirlwind. While writing may be a solitary task, many people have worked to craft the book now in your hands—and to keep me sane in the process.
My deepest gratitude to the Del Rey clan, especially to my editor, Betsy Mitchell; David Moench, my publicist; Kim Hovey and the whole marketing gang; Michael Burke, my copy editor; David Stevenson, who designed the cover; and Evan Camfield, my production editor.
My thanks to the poor souls on whom I inflicted draft after draft: Martine, Mom, Babs, and Jud. I couldn't ask for better readers.
Thanks also to Rick Ridgeway for relating his experiences in Antarctica.
Barrie and Arlene, your friendship and advice have been a great gift. And for keeping me on an even keel through the process, my thanks to Rob, Dianne, Stew, Mariaelena, Amanda, Jeb, Steve, Erik, Allan, Dave, and Paul.
I'm indebted to my agents, Matt Williams, Sarah Self, and Simon Lipskar; none of this would have been possible without you.
And thanks to you, my reader, for taking the time to join me on this flight of fancy.
Josh Conviser grew up in Aspen, Colorado, graduated from Princeton University with a degree in anthropology, and has lived in Europe and the Far East. An avid mountaineer, he climbed in ranges around the world, including the Himalayas, before giving up the mountains for the jungles of Hollywood to pursue a career in screenwriting. He was the executive consultant on HBO's hit series Rome and has several films in development. His first novel, Echelon, was published in 2006. He lives in Santa Barbara, California, with his wife and daughter. Visit him at www.joshconviser.com.
ALSO BY JOSH CONVISER
Echelon
Empyre is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
A Del Rey Trade Paperback Original
Copyright © 2007 by Josh Conviser
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by Del Rey Books, an imprint of The Random House Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.
DEL REY is a registered trademark and the Del Rey colophon is a trademark of Random House, Inc.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Conviser, Josh.
Empyre / Josh Conviser.
p. cm.
eISBN: 978-0-345-50218-6
1. Intelligence officers—Fiction. 2. United States. Central Intelligence Agency—Fiction. I. Title.PS3603.0564E67 2007
813'.6—dc22 2007021518
www.delreybooks.com
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