Memory Zero (37 page)

She never had a hope. He fired. The laser’s blue-white light cut silently across the darkness and arrowed into her back. She gasped, her arms flung wide, but her hand was still clutched around the grenade as
she was thrown to the tiles. He pressed the audio button as he ran toward her. “Get the medics down here.”

“Show me her face,” Stephan said tightly.

Obviously, he feared it was Lyssa who lay dying, but Gabriel felt no rancor at his brother’s disbelief. If the situation had been reversed, he’d be asking the same thing.

She was gasping for breath, still struggling to move. He removed the laser and the grenade from her slack grip, noting that the pin on the grenade hadn’t been pulled. He put them on the bench, well out of her reach, and squatted beside her.

“Don’t move,” he said gently. “The medics are on their way.”

Her gaze swung toward him, her features in the midst of change, Lyssa’s features fading into those of the dark-haired woman he’d met only a few hours before. Kazdan’s wife, as Sam had said.

“Tell him I’m sorry,” she gasped. “I didn’t want him to die … He was good … to me …”

Surprise rippled through him. He had no doubt that she meant Stephan, and he wondered if Kazdan knew his wife had fallen in love with the man she was supposed to kill. “So it was you who sent the warning to the SIU?”

She licked her lips. “I didn’t want to be responsible for all those deaths, no matter what
he
said.”

“And the child?” he asked softly. “Whose is it?”

“I don’t really know,” she said. “But it’s probably Jack’s.”

“Probably” still left a question mark, and that meant they had to do everything in their power to keep her alive. If it
was
Stephan’s child she carried, then he would want to raise it.

“You’d better leave the bitch,” Stephan stated into his ear, his voice deadpan and tightly controlled, “and head over to the control center. Sam hit the alarm button about a minute ago. I sent two State boys over, but we’ve since lost contact with them all.”

Gabriel swore and headed for the exit.

S
AM SHIFTED HER WEIGHT FROM
one leg to the other, trying to ease the ache in her feet. She needed something, anything, to happen; otherwise she was in serious danger of falling asleep. She glanced at her watch. Three-o-five. The PM was obviously running behind schedule. Why couldn’t a politician actually keep on schedule just this once?

She stifled a yawn and checked the .44 for the umpteenth time. It wasn’t a weapon she’d normally use. She didn’t like the feel of it, nor did she like the kickback. Still, beggars couldn’t be choosers. Security operation or not, no one was standing ready with an arsenal of weapons. They’d taken what was available, and Gabriel had taken the only laser.

She put the Magnum back in its holster and wondered what he was up to. He was supposed to contact her when he’d reached the elevator mechanic’s room. So far, her wristcom had been worryingly silent. Maybe there were problems, though she’d heard no noise, no sound of gunfire.

Shifting her weight to her other leg again, she wondered how Jack planned to get into the port. Security was locked down tight. No one was getting in or out without the proper ID. Still, if the Wetherton clone was on Jack’s side, maybe getting ID wasn’t a problem.
Ministers could get such things, even a minister on the way out.

Sound whispered across the silence. She cocked her head, listening intently. After a few moments, she heard it again—the creak of metal. Someone was walking up the stairs.

The lights went out. She squatted and pressed back into the corner. Another faint creak whispered through the darkness. Carefully, she drew her gun, clicked off the safety and held it in a two-handed grip, aiming for the top step.

Down below, someone breathed. She could hear the whisper of his breath, sighing in and out of his lungs. Could almost hear the beating of his heart, a steady vibration far slower than her own.

When had her senses become so acute?

The landing immediately below her creaked. She tensed and waited. So, too, did the person below. His breathing was a short, sharp sound that spoke of fear. After a minute, he continued toward her. She tensed, her finger tightening fractionally on the trigger.

A head appeared—brown hair, brown skin. No one she knew. Metal glinted in his left hand.

“Police,” she said. “Drop your weapon and put your hands up!”

He jumped. Then, almost as if in slow motion, she saw his fingers tighten around his gun, saw the brief flash of white sear the darkness and the ripple through the air as the bullet came at her. She rolled to one side, then half rose and fired. The retort shuddered through her arms, the sound of the shot booming through the silence.

The impact threw him back down the stairs. She rose, walked over to the railing and carefully peered
over. The stranger lay on the landing below and he wasn’t moving.

But someone else was.

Feet pounded up the steps—four men, at least. She scooted up to the next landing and pressed the alarm on her wristcom. One or two men she could cope with. Four was asking for trouble.

She waited in the shadows. The men stopped on the landing below, one of them cursing softly. Tension leapt into the air, so thick she could almost taste it.

They edged forward. She caught a glimpse of blond hair as the stranger tried to figure out where she was. She informed him by firing a warning shot that skimmed his head. He jerked back, but others appeared over the railing, returning fire. They missed her by several feet. Maybe they couldn’t see her too well in the shadows. She silently ran up to the next landing.

Where the hell was her backup?

With all the security running around this place, she’d have thought there’d be someone close enough to help her out. Maybe she should just hightail it up to the control center. The State boys were up there. At least the odds would be more even—though in reality, the gunshots should have had them out and investigating by now.

She listened to the four men below. They were creeping up the stairs again, heading for the next landing. The control center was only another two flights up. Damn it, why hadn’t anyone come out to investigate the gunshots? Surely they couldn’t have missed the retort of the Magnum. But she had no idea just how noisy a control center was. Maybe it was impossible to hear even a gun as loud as the .44.

The door above her opened as she reached the next
landing. Light flung itself down the stairwell, making her blink. A lanky fellow in the State’s black uniform entered the stairwell.

“About time,” she muttered. Then the sudden silence hit her as odd. As did the officer’s amused expression.

Too late, she saw the gun in his hand and heard the muffled retort as he fired. She dove sideways, but not fast enough. The bullet tore through her shoulder, throwing her back hard against the wall. Pain ran like fire through her body, sucking the strength from her legs. As she slid down the wall, she stared at the lanky stranger walking toward her.

And saw that he had Jack’s eyes.

G
ABRIEL HEARD THE BOOMING RETORT
of the .44 and slid to a halt, pressing back against the wall as he stared up at the dark stairwell.

After a few seconds, there was a second shot, then silence. High up he could see a shaft of light, starlike in the distance.

“I still can’t contact the State boys in the control center,” Stephan said into his ear.

“Have you got shooters on the roof?”

“Yep. The first-stage launch screen is up. It’s difficult to see anyone inside. No one’s responding to calls.”

“What about Sam?”

“She’s not responding, either.”

Sam was a by-the-numbers cop. If she didn’t answer, she was either injured or dead. Anger slithered through him. She might not be a friend, and she certainly would never be his partner, but she was someone he wouldn’t mind getting to know better. If she was dead, if he’d lost that chance, Jack would pay. “What about Kazdan?”

“No sign of him.”

He had to be here, somewhere. He wouldn’t be careless enough to arrive at the last minute and hope to get inside.

“And the PM?”

“Two minutes away.”

They didn’t have much time left. Nor could they delay the Prime Minister’s arrival much longer without the press figuring out that something was wrong.

“I’m heading up.”

“Be careful.”

That was one warning his brother didn’t need to give. He switched the audio off again. Then, keeping his back to the wall, he carefully eased up the stairs. From above came the brief mutter of conversation and the light winked out. He halted, listening.

Someone was walking down the stairs. He hunkered down in the corner of a landing and waited. The soft steps came closer. Whoever was approaching was making no effort to conceal his or her presence. Feet came into view—joggers so white they practically glowed in the darkness.

It was a teenager who looked barely old enough to be out of grade school. He wasn’t one of the security staff, nor was he one of the regular port staff, despite the fact that he was wearing an ID tag. Given the total lockdown, he had to be one of Kazdan’s men—though the term “man” was something of a misnomer in this case.

He was also apparently night blind, walking right past without so much as twitching. Gabriel rose swiftly and moved up behind the skinny youngster. Still no sign of awareness. Shaking his head at Kazdan’s stupidity,
he clamped one hand over the kid’s mouth and grabbed the gun with his other.

“Move and you die,” he whispered into one diamond-studded ear.

The youngster froze, yet his entire body trembled. Where in hell had Kazdan got this one from—kindergarten? “Is the lady police officer upstairs? Nod if the answer is yes.”

The teenager swallowed convulsively and nodded.

“Is Kazdan upstairs?”

Another nod.

“How many other people? One nod per person.”

Five nods. Not good odds. Gabriel was fast, but he wasn’t a fool. He pressed the audio switch back on. “Byrne, the PM arrived yet?”

“Just now.”

“Herd him into the security center. I don’t care how or why, but get everyone else out. I’m coming in with a prisoner.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Maybe.” And maybe it was just plain suicide. Still, if Kazdan was already in the control tower, they had no other choice. He was obviously disguised, if the sharpshooters on the roof couldn’t see him. Someone had to go in. “I’ll explain when I get there. We’ll need some duct tape, knives, a few Kevlar suits, a Holcroft laser or two, and a few packets of blood.”

“Nice shopping list. I’ll see what I can do.”

Gabriel nudged the teenager. “I’m about to take my hand from your mouth. Make any sort of noise and you’re dead. Okay?”

The kid nodded again. Gabriel pushed him down the rest of the stairs, and then he urged him into a run at the bottom. He had a horrible feeling time was
running out. He had to get upstairs before it was too late—for Sam, more than anyone else.

S
AM CAME TO SLOWLY
.
Something warm and sticky pasted her shirt to her chest, pulling at her skin when she shifted. Her shoulder burned—a deep-set ache that pounded through her body, churning her stomach into knots.

“Shame to waste all that blood,” Jack commented, amusement evident in his soft tone, “but I really don’t have time for a snack right now.”

She opened her eyes. She was lying on her side on the control tower floor, her back resting against a metal panel. Jack stood to her right, arms crossed, leaning casually against a well-lit radar screen. Two men stood near the elevator, and another two guarded either end of the semicircular window. All five were wearing State IDs—courtesy of the soon-to-be-dead Wetherton, or some other high-placed clone, no doubt.

The real tower staff lay in a heap near the bathroom door. Her gaze skated over them quickly, and she grimaced. By the look of the woman lying nearest to her, Jack had already indulged in a snack or two.

She eased upright. The fire in her shoulder became an inferno, and she hissed. Sweat broke out across her brow, and warm moisture began to trickle down the inside of her shirt. Gingerly, she cradled her right arm in her left and glared up at her former partner.

Jack laughed softly. “You should have joined me, Sam. It would have been a whole lot easier.”

She snorted softly. “I’d rather mate with a crocodile.”

“Now that conjures up some interesting images.”
He studied her for a moment, eyes dilated and hungry. “How did you escape the cell?”

She smiled sweetly. “I opened the door.”

His gaze narrowed. “How? I removed the key-coder from your boot.”

“So you did. Maybe I’m magic.”

He snorted. “Not yet, you’re not.”

And what was that supposed to mean? Just what had those tests revealed about her?

Jack glanced at his watch, then at the two men at either end of the windows. As one, they made their way across to the stairwell doorway. His gaze returned to her. “Where’s Stern?”

“Around.” Where, she had no idea. Hopefully, he or someone else had realized she was in trouble by now and was doing something about it. “You’ll never succeed, Jack. The whole place is under tight security.” His smile was almost serene. “Of which we’re a part.”