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The sergeant lifted the phone from his head. "Ground-floor lobby is about average busy. He has some business visitors. An old coot and some last-generation cobbers. They want to rent office space."
"Okay. They can look at the third-floor suites. If they want to look at anything else, they can come back tomorrow." Tomorrow, Deep willing, Shynkrette and her team would be long gone. They would have been gone last night, if not for the storm. Kindred Special Operations could do things with helicopters that the Accord military had never imagined....If good luck and competence held another day or two, her team would be back home with their prize. The Kindred book of doctrine had always been big on assassinations and decapitating strikes. With this op, the Honored Pedure was writing a new and experimental chapter. Deep, what Pedure would do with those six children. Shynkrette's mind shied away from the thought. She had been in Pedure's i
Shynkrette moved from quarter to quarter, sca
"Team Sergeant! We're going upstairs."
De
A coincidence? Maybe the police had someone else they wanted to wave their guns at? Shynkrette balanced in a rare moment of indecision. De
So much for indecision; Shynkrette waved the sergeant to his feet. "Tell Trivelle to melt away,"if he can. "We're into Alt Five." There was always an Alternative Plan; that was a grim joke in Special Operations. They had had some warning. Very likely they could get out of the building, melt into the sea of civilians. Corporal Trivelle had less of a chance, but he knew so little it wouldn't matter. The mission would not end up an embarrassment. If they took care of one last piece of business, it might even be counted a partial success.
As they raced up the central stairs, De
Hell, she was probably doing these children a favor; now they would miss their date with Honored Pedure.
Through most of the morning, Brent had lain flat on the metal floor. He looked as discouraged as Viki and Gokna felt. Jirlib at least had his hands full trying to comfort the two babies. The little ones were totally and loudly unhappy now, and wouldn't have anything to do with the sisters. The last time anyone had been fed was the previous afternoon.
There wasn't even much left to conspire about. By morning twilight, it had been obvious that their rescue flag was gone. A second attempt tore loose in less than thirty minutes. After that, Gokna and Viki spent three hours wrapping the play twine in intricate patterns through the pipe stubs above the room's only entrance. Brent had been a real help with that—he was so good with knots and patterns. If anyone unfriendly came through that door, they would get a mawful of unpleasantness. But if their visitors were armed, how could it be enough? At that question, Brent had retreated from their arguments, gone to splay himself out on the cold floor.
Above them, a narrow square of sunlight crept foot by foot across the high walls of their prison. It must be almost noon. "I hear sirens," Brent said abruptly, after an hour of silent sitting. "Lie down close and listen."
Gokna and Viki did. Jirlib shushed the babies, for what that was worth.
"Yeah, I hear them."
"Those arepolice sirens, Viki. Feel thethump, thump ?"
Gokna jumped up, was already racing for the doorway.
Viki stayed on the floor a moment longer. "Bequiet, Gokna!"
And even the babies were quiet. There were other sounds: the heavy thrum of fans somewhere lower in the building, the street noise that they had heard before...but now the staccato sound of many feet, ru
"That's close," said Brent.
"Th-they're coming for us."
"Yes." Brent paused, in his usual dull way. "And I hear others coming, quieter or farther away."
It didn't matter. Viki ran to the doorway, hoisted herself up after Gokna. What they pla
Brent rose, ran to the right side of the doorway. Jirlib stood well off to the side. He held the children tight in his arms, and didn't try to quiet them anymore. But now, suddenly, they were quiet. Maybe they understood. Maybe it was something instinctive.
Through the wall, Viki could feel the ru
The door slid open, metal slipping across metal. Brent tensed for a leap. "Please don't hurt me," he said, his voice the same sullen monotone as always. Brent couldn't act to save his soul, yet in a weird way that tone sounded like someone scared into abject mindlessness.
"No one's going to hurt you. We want to move you someplace better, and get you some food. Come on out." The boss kidnapper sounded as reasonable as always. "Come on out," a bit more sharply. Did she think she could bag them all without even mussing her jacket? There was quiet for a second or two...Viki heard a faint sigh of irritation. There was a rush of motion.
Gokna and Viki dived as hard as they could. They were only five feet up. Without the twine, they would have crushed their skulls on the floor. Instead, the elastic snapped them back, heads down, through the open doorway.
Gunfire flashed sideways, seeking Brent's voice.
Viki had a glimpse of head and arms, and some kind of gun. She smashed into the leader at the rear of her back, knocking her flat, sending her gun skittering across the floor. But the other cobber was a couple of feet behind. Gokna hit him in the hard of his shoulders, scrabbled to hold on. But the other bounced her off. A single burst of fire from his gun smashed Gokna's middle. Shards and blood spattered the wall behind her.