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The Security man sighed. "Look, kid, there's really nothing to worry about. Your friends are harmless—they've been searched, they're surrounded by guards, and in a few minutes they'll all be locked away. I don't care how good blackcollars are, they can't be very dangerous inside little steel cubes."
"Hey!" one of the others called from the first display bank. "They've remote-forced the ambulance down—no one in it."
"Oh, hell," one of the others murmured. "Qui
"Get Marsala and Abrams tied in," Pittman's challenger instructed, striding over to the display bank and frowning at one of the screens. "We'll want a fast diagnostic telemetry set up, see if the thing's been on autopilot since leaving or whether someone could have bailed out en route."
"Oh, come on," a third man put in, joining the others. "We've had it under surveillance practically the whole time."
The discussion continued, and for the moment Pittman was forgotten. Giving the detention display bank one final scan, he returned to the lounge, closing the door behind him. As it had been since he first arrived, the room was deserted; crossing it, he slipped out the far door and headed down a hallway toward the elevator.
Already the building was begi
Six heavily armed men were waiting by the elevators, laser rifles slung over their shoulders, obviously headed for the armory. Pittman gave them a wide berth, eying the rifles longingly, and began looking around for the building's from entrance. It turned out to be only a single turn and a dozen meters ahead, and was as secure-looking as he had expected. A small display set into the wall beside the door showed the view from the duty officer's desk; a single Security man was briefly visible as he passed the desk and headed for the door. No one else was in sight; all seemed perfectly quiet.
For a moment Pittman paused, wondering if he ought to head out into the lobby for a moment and talk to the desk officer. But everything appeared to be adequately under control out there. Which meant it was now time for the real test: to find out just how secure Qui
—
Elevators, and the lobbies where people gathered to wait for them, had a unique sound profile about them, and it was child's play to recognize that the place he sought was just down the hall from the entrance door. Senses alert, Mordecai headed off in the proper direction... but he'd barely taken five steps when he realized that the clothing of the man walking away ahead of him was familiar. The clothing, as well as the posture and the walk.
Pittman.
The blackcollar's lip twitched in a grim smile as he slowed his pace to avoid overtaking. Pittman didn't turn around, but continued around the next corner without pausing. A group of armed Security men were waiting for the elevator there, and for a moment Mordecai considered jumping them and getting himself a little extra firepower. But prudence won out, and instead he took up a casual position against the wall near the corner, staying well back from the others. Hanging his head in a posture of thought that would both discourage idle conversation and mask his features a bit, he waited.
Two of the elevators arrived almost simultaneously. "Going up?" Pittman called into the one nearest him. "I need to get to four."
"It's headed down, stupid—read the arrow," one of the armed Security men growled at him before anyone inside could reply. Shouldering past Pittman, he and the other four stepped into the car. The door closed; muttering something under his breath, Pittman stepped into the other elevator. Mordecai waited until it, too, was on its way before moving forward and punching the up button. He didn't know exactly where Pittman was headed, but odds were that it was somewhere he wanted to be, too.
Another elevator arrived within the minute, and he stepped inside with the two Security men already there. The fourth-level button had been pushed; stepping to a back corner, the blackcollar rubbed his lip thoughtfully and began the quiet psychological preparation for combat.
The door opened. He let the others leave first, then stepped out himself and looked around... and realized with a shock that he'd walked into a massive trap.
Combat reflexes flared; but even as his hand twitched toward his concealed nunchaku his brain caught up with that first impression and he noticed that the dozen gray-green uniforms weren't converging on him—were not, in fact, even paying any attention to him. Carefully, he let his hand drop back to his side and gave the bustling Security men another, closer, look. Casual conversations, body language that spoke of unconcern.
Level four was a Security barracks.
Great. Just great. Well, it could have been worse. Licking his lips briefly, the blackcollar tried to look inconspicuous as he looked around for Pittman. The other wasn't hard to find, striding down the hall to Mordecai's right as if he owned the place. The blackcollar set off after him, again making sure not to get too close.
The hall was a long one, and at its end was a desk with a Security duty officer and—surprisingly—a single elevator. The implications were clear enough... and with almost a sense of relief Mordecai realized the difficult part was over and the fighting was about to begin. The only way to get to Lathe and the others would be via that elevator—and the ID machine he could see on the duty officer's desk was sure as hell not going to be simply taking roll call.
He picked up his pace, and was within earshot when Pittman reached the desk. "I want to go up and see General Qui
"Neither," the Security man said tartly. "Only authorized perso
"That's ridiculous," Pittman said. "Galway said I could come up here if I wanted to—"
"Galway's not in charge here, Postern—and if I were you, I wouldn't keep using his name to try and slide your way into places where you're not wanted."
"Now look, you—"
Quietly, Mordecai slipped past the argument and gave the elevator door a quick once-over. Armored, certainly, and with no visible controls. Probably operated from the duty desk after IDs and authorizations had been properly checked. The blackcollar turned back, sca
"Hey!" the desk man half turned to glare at Mordecai. "What the hell do you think you're doing? Get back here and check through—"
And abruptly recognition flared in his eyes. "My God—" he gasped.
Mordecai lifted his eyes a fraction, caught Pittman's.
And the younger man leaned over the desk to jab stiffened fingers into the Security man's throat.
With a strangled choke the officer slumped in his seat. Glancing over Pittman's shoulder, Mordecai stepped to the stu
"Any reaction?" Pittman asked as his fingers dug into the pocket and emerged with the card.
"Not yet," Mordecai said, still watching over the other's shoulder. But that wouldn't last long, he knew. At the moment Pittman's body was hiding the duty officer from view of the milling Security men farther down the hall, but that would change as soon as they made for the elevator. "This is the only way to the cells?"