Die Again To Save Tomorrow (Die Again to Save the World Book 2)

by Ramy Vance

  It was then she noticed the receptionist's desk down the hall and had an idea. “Take off your shades, but keep your face hidden. Come with me.”

  “Where are we going?”

  She sauntered up to the desk and noticed the night guard. He was a young, dark-haired guy in a full-dress uniform that didn’t suit him, and he pored over a college textbook. Perfect. She affected a really bad British accent, albeit the best she could do.

  She knocked on the marble counter to get his attention. “Hullo?”

  His head snapped up, and he shut the book. His dark eyes were fuzzy with concentration. “Hi.”

  “Hi, don’t let me stop you. What are you in uni?”

  She had once read that British college students referred to their time at university with the shorthand “uni.” She hoped she was right, or at least that this guy didn’t know the difference.

  He cleared his throat and glanced down at the shut book. Principles of Accounting. “Uh, yeah, I…uh, I’m a business major. I’ve got finals tomorrow.”

  “Business? Brilliant. My husband, God rest his soul, was a businessman. He worked for Rupert Murdoch before he was Rupert Murdoch.”

  The kid’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

  “He’s got successful media companies all over the world now—different BBC affiliates. I don’t know about the organizational structure of it all. I just know every time I walk into the BBC, I get my arse kissed.”

  She laughed too loud, and his mouth dropped.

  “Your husband owned BBC affiliates?”

  “He did. I’m Rosie, by the way. Rosie McClintock.”

  She held out her hand, and he shook it. “Josh. Josh Montgomery. I’m a senior business major, and I’ve been looking for an opportunity or a foot in the door. You know, with the economy the way it is…”

  “Never blame the economy, dear. It’s laziness.”

  He blushed and shook his head. “Right.”

  “Of course, you’ve explored the internship here in New York, right?”

  “Uh…I’ve not heard of that one.”

  “Oh, well, that’s the place to start if you want to get into the BBC. Word to the wise, the BBC hires from within, so don’t expect a recruiter or an advert.”

  “Got it.” He scrambled for a piece of paper. “How would I apply?”

  She smiled. “Well, dearie, I’ll tell you what. You send your CV directly to me, and I’ll see that it gets to the right hands.”

  He nodded vigorously and poised his pen. “Yeah, yeah. Where should I send it to?”

  She made up a professional-sounding e-mail address, and he jotted it down.

  “Now, dearie, can you do me a favor?”

  “Yeah, yeah, anything.”

  “I’ve just been to the optometrist, these lights, ohh…” She pointed toward the fluorescent light fixtures above. “They give me a migraine.”

  “An eye doctor appointment on a Sunday, ma’am?”

  Martha batted an eye at him. “For me, yes.”

  “Oh, right,” the man said quickly and then glanced up at the ceiling lights. “Should I turn them off for you?”

  Martha inwardly smirked. She had this guy. “You’re such a doll, dearie. No, I just left something up at One Republic, and I can’t seem to remember the key code.”

  He frowned and picked up the phone. “Well, I don’t think there’s anyone up there right now. Let me...”

  She placed her palm over his hand. “I’d really rather not bother any of them up there. I just forgot my address book, and it would be a shame if that fell into the wrong hands, let me tell you. I know they’re all busy. I just need to dash up there and get it.”

  He laughed uncomfortably and then glanced back up and down the e-mail address on his notepad. “What the hell.” He caught her eye and then scrawled four digits onto a sticky note. 5399. He handed it to her.

  “Well, thank you, Josh. I’ll forward your CV to the internship director.”

  “Thank you, thank you.”

  She winked at him, then turned to Zach. “Come along, Robert.”

  They moved quickly down the hall toward the elevator, and she typed in the code. The elevator popped open, and she and Zach entered the car.

  Zach replaced his shades and leaned against the back of the elevator as it rose to sixty. “Pretty good story.”

  “I thought so. I doubt he’ll believe it for very long, but it bought us time up there, anyway. We’ll have to be quick.”

  The elevator stopped at the sixtieth floor, and Martha and Zach stepped out into the One Republic lobby for the second time that day. This time it was dark and empty.

  Martha breathed a sigh of relief. It would have ruined everything if one kiss-ass worker had pulled an all-nighter. They took for granted that there were likely security cameras all through here. This meant they had to keep their eyes covered. Walking through unfamiliar hallways in dark shades was much more difficult than she expected.

  Zach followed her, glancing around for security cameras, and whispered, “Where exactly are we going?”

  “Lucas’ office. If there’s something shady, it should be in there.”

  They found the room easily enough, and she tried the door. It was locked. “Damn.” Martha inspected the construction. It was heavy double glass, and there was no visible lock. “It must lock electronically.”

  Zach peered into the office and pointed at a sensor in the ceiling. “Yep. That locks it on a timer.”

  “But how does he get in?”

  On the side of the wall was a key fob, and Zach smiled. “This worked one time for me by accident. I’m going to see if it works this time.” He pulled his keys out of his pocket and passed it over the fob pad. With a beep, the door popped unlocked.

  Martha gasped and opened the door to Lucas’s office. “How did you figure that out?”

  They walked into the office, and he glanced around the expansive room. “Promise me you won’t arrest me?”

  Martha nodded.

  “I won’t explain how it works, but it’s a universal fob key. Umm…not exactly legal, and it works on most smart locks like this one.”

  Martha bit her lip. “Shit. I didn’t know such things existed. Where’d you get it?”

  Zach swallowed. “A prize for winning an underground hacking competition. It was research into the criminal underworld. For the crime novel I’m writing. I swear I’m not…”

  When she saw the nervous puppy dog look on Zach’s face, Martha chuckled. “Your secret is safe with me. You and Buzz would get along nicely. Okay, what we need to find is everything on the One Response event.”

  Zach let out a breath and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. “Right.”

  Zach and Martha crept around, not sure what they were looking for. There was a small filing cabinet and a desk with space for a laptop. A cube-style bookshelf held volumes on PR, and on the floor in a stack was a binder with the GRI logo.

  She grabbed it. It was full, about five inches thick, and she flipped through it. It talked about “research for a global world” and “sustainability models for the human race.” Was this a part of Pete’s plan?

  Martha didn’t know, but the book in Lucas’s office was proof that he was working with GRI on something. But what? Zach pulled a laptop out of a drawer and was trying to break into it.

  She asked him, “Find anything?”

  “Not yet. You?”

  “They’re definitely working with GRI on something.”

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  “GRI has a reputation for shady science, using the people of poor countries as cheap guinea pigs for scientific research.”

  He turned to face her, and his grin couldn’t get any bigger. “Wow. This is a scandal.”

  “Keep looking. We don’t have any proof that he’s up to anything just yet.”

  Zach tried to restart the computer in safe mode, and Martha rifled through the filing cabinet. Client forms, invoices, everything looked good.
She slammed the cabinet in frustration and placed her hands on her hips. She had to find something.

  She paced the floor and tripped over something in the dark. “What the hell?”

  Zach turned as she got off the floor. “What is that?” He picked the device up and risked turning on a desk lamp. It was gray, about a foot wide, with a boxy central housing containing a small storage compartment beneath it and four strut-like arms with propellers. “A drone.” Zach played around with it, and it lit up with a bright blue LED light, a light so brilliant it would be worthy of being in a…

  Martha’s mouth dropped. “The light show. That’s it. The light show. The drones are part of the light show.”

  “What do you mean?”

  ”The drones. That’s how the attack goes down. The compartments underneath, they’re for holding bombs—”

  The hallway lights flipped on, and they heard yelling. “Rosie? Rosie McClintock?”

  Zach and Martha stared at each other. “Oh shit.”

  They tried to slip out the office door, but that’s when they saw them. Josh and a big burly security guard with tattoos and a nightstick. Josh pointed at them. “That’s them.”

  The security guard charged in their direction. “Halt.”

  Josh sneered at Martha. “Nice try using the word ‘uni,’ and your British accent was mostly convincing. Once that e-mail bounced back, I knew you were lying. Oh, and that phony optometrist appointment on a Sunday…please. Who are you, and what are you doing here?”

  Zach and Martha glanced at each other, and then they both ran for it, darting to either side of the guard. Josh and the security guard chased, and the guard radioed, “We’ve got a runner up on sixty. Get me some backup.”

  They ran down the maze of hallways with the two security guys in tow. There had to be a back entrance to the suite that would lead out into the main hallway. It would be a fire hazard to have this many workers and only one entrance. She searched for stairwell exit signs as the guards panting behind her yelled. She finally found one and yelled at Zach, who was running in the other direction, “This way.”

  She pushed open the door, and an updraft of chill air met her as she glanced down the stairwell’s center past sixty landings. Would it kill building contractors to put insulation in stairwells? Not everyone took the elevator.

  The blaring fire alarm jarred her from her thoughts, and she shrugged at Zach and the sixty stairwell landings below. “More workout than the treadmill.”

  She bounded down the stairs with Zach following behind her. “We’re sitting ducks here, you know.”

  “They’re not going to fire blindly down a staircase for breaking and entering. If we were injured, it would be too messy with the cops later on.”

  “Are you sure about that?” Zach looked up at the hefty security guard, who thudded down a few flights above them.

  “No. Keep moving. Pick up the pace.”

  Zach channeled his inner schoolboy and started sliding down banisters—careful not to topple over the railing where he’d plummet to his death—and gained two or three staircases on Martha.

  “Good. Just do that, like thirty more times or something.”

  Zach gave her a dirty look and motioned at the door of the thirty-fourth floor. She nodded, and he tried the door. It was locked, but Zach’s magical key fob saved the day again. They opened it and dashed inside, and quickly found the elevator.

  Zach pressed the down button as she leaned over and heaved for breath. Yep, this was why people took the elevator. As they waited for the car, a door opened down the hall, and Josh and the security guard charged through the building. Zach and Martha stared at each other, and Martha cringed at the loud ding of the elevator bell. The metallic doors slid open, and they stepped on.

  The yelling wasn’t far off. The burly guard depressed a button on his radio. “Shit. They’re on the elevator. Go, go, go.”

  She cringed and jammed the Door Close button, and it finally shut. Zach had it set to go to the ground floor, but she shook her head. “No, they’ll be waiting for us there. Let’s go somewhere they’re not expecting. Like, six.”

  Zach panted. “Six?”

  Martha nodded. “Then we take six flights down the stairwell and come out where they’re not expecting.”

  “You’re the boss.”

  The elevator stopped at six, and as they disembarked, she pressed all the other buttons to stall the elevator. “That way, it will take longer to come down.”

  The sixth floor was a publishing house, and Zach stopped and stared longingly at the empty bullpen.

  “Hey Grisham, if you want to live to see your book published, I suggest you get running.”

  “Right, right.”

  He ran, but he stopped when they found the editor’s office. He looked at Martha longingly, then pulled out his phone and snapped a photo of the nameplate. “I’ll look him up later.”

  “Great. We don’t have time.”

  “Right.”

  They found another interior stairwell and ran the last six stories to the first floor. By the time they reached it, Martha was out of breath and dizzy. “Look, a doorway to the outside. Let’s go.”

  They stepped outside, this time on the ground floor. Martha quickly ascertained her surroundings. They weren’t too far from the car. “This way.”

  They ran at full speed and made it to the car as police sirens pulled up to the building. Zach looked scared. “We’re all over those cameras.”

  “We were pretty disguised, I think.”

  “I hope.”

  “Calm down. I know some people on the force. We’ll be good.” She hoped.

  Zach didn’t appear convinced. Martha calmly pulled out onto the street as two police cars whizzed past. Without drawing any unwanted attention, she eased away in the other direction, and they merged into traffic.

  Once they were out of danger, Zach laughed. “That was cool.”

  “You think so?”

  Her heart was beating out of her chest. But now she knew.

  One Republic and GRI were going to bomb the World Summit using a drone light show.

  They weren’t going to get away with this.

  Or were they?

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Sunday, May 21, 9:49 p.m.

  The scene at Laura’s Pastries had now turned pretty tense. Nearly half a dozen waiters had blown their cover and trained their tranq guns on Pete, still hooded, still wearing sunglasses. Marshall sat at the table, palms raised, unmoving, and the gunman stood with his weapon jammed into Marshall’s neck.

  Pete sneered beneath his hood and sunglasses. “Well played, well played. I wouldn’t have guessed that one.” He held up his silenced pistol in pseudo-surrender.

  Aki sauntered onto the main floor, her weapon—loaded with bullets, not darts—held high. “Drop the gun.”

  He winked. “You know I like it when you talk dirty to me.”

  “You wish. You’re going to jail, asshole. For a very long time.”

  “No, I won’t. But, I guess it’s all part of the script, isn’t it now?” Stepping away from Marshall, Pete delivered a lightning-fast spin kick, sending the weapon flying out of her hand. Everyone in the room hit the floor as the loaded gun crashed against a wall and clattered against the floor.

  Marshall yelled at him. “Are you fucking nuts?”

  The man laughed. “Of course I am. Then again, so are you. And I guess so are we all, really. Sanity is the crutch of an infertile mind, I say.”

  Fortunately, the weapon didn’t fire as it fell onto the floor with a loud spinning clatter. Rueben rushed over to check on Aki.

  With that, all hell broke loose. Fake Ernie jumped over the counter and tried to pin the gunman down, but Pete was quicker. He delivered a hard right to the jaw and a simultaneous kick to the gut that sent the agent reeling.

  “Ah, I thought you would be more interesting as an opponent. That quick?”

  Two agents shot at the moving target. They’d sw
apped their tranq guns for pistols. Several bullets deflected harmlessly off Pete’s hi-tech body armor, tearing holes in his hoodie, and several more missed him and hit the windows instead.

  In one fantastic moment, the storefront glass shattered, and the shards fell like raindrops to the white linoleum, along with splintered pieces of wood.

  Laura screamed and ran for cover, yelling something about insurance. “Are you people all crazy?”

  The distraction of the exploding glass bought Fake Ernie enough time to recover his footing and grab Pete from behind. He wrestled him to the floor, and with a little help from some of the other agents, they all pinned Pete’s wrists behind him.

  Ernie jerked Pete’s restrained body up off the floor to look at his face. “Who are you?” Pete sneered and, now in a standing position, tried to wrest away.

  “Let me go,” Pete said calmly. “Or I’ll blow your scrambled brains all over this goddamned room.”

  Laura screamed. “Please, no scrambled brains.”

  Multiple guns stayed trained on Pete and Ernie while they wrestled, but none of the agents fired for fear of hitting Ernie.

  “Just shoot!” Ernie said.

  “Doris, pulse,” Pete said, and invisible shockwaves blasted outward from the metallic gauntlet in his hoodie’s pouch. The agents went flying, as did cake stands and fancy glass vases filled with mints positioned throughout the room. Pete took the opportunity to slip the gauntlet onto his hand.

  Rising like a bull elephant, Marshall went completely ballistic and tore into Pete from behind in a dirty street fight move. They crashed to the bakery floor. Marshall threw a solid fist into Pete’s chest and grunted when his knuckles connected with metal. Laura yelled about blood on the floor, and a couple of the agents rushed forward. They restrained Pete and pulled Marshall away.

  Marshall wiped the blood off his lip. “Fucking pussy. You wouldn’t last one day on the force.”

  Pete laughed. “I’m not trying to. Being a cop doesn’t seem like a worthwhile occupation.”

  Marshall glanced down at a tranq gun on the floor in front of him, dropped by one of the agents. He stared at it longingly, and an agent stopped him. “Let’s get you out of here.”