I glanced back at Reed as he stepped out of the back seat of the SUV. He had a slightly low look as he met my gaze, one that evaporated as Scott joined us.
“What did I miss?” Scott asked.
“A meaningful look,” I said, not bothering to lie.
“Oh, yeah?” he asked, glancing between the two of us. “What was the meaning behind it?”
Reed shrugged and kept his stoic silence. Then he feigned a smile and shuffled away, back toward the chase car that held Janus and the others.
Scott and I watched him go. “No, seriously,” Scott said, “what was that about?”
“We’re about to go into the last battle,” I said, tightly, as I watched my brother slouch up to Janus and say something. Janus turned in slight surprise and nodded then the two of them shook hands. “I think it meant that whatever happens … not all of us may be coming back alive.”
Chapter 44
I crept through the woods, Reed, Kat and Scott at my back. Janus was a hundred feet away with Foreman, Zollers and one of our two agents. Stevens, I think I’d heard him called. He was carrying a European-style bullpup assault rifle. Though it would hardly be silent if shots were fired, the suppressor would hopefully limit the sound carry.
Awww, who was I kidding? If there was even one meta in the group of guards—and there should be, if anyone in Century had any damned sense at all—the moment we opened fire, it was game on.
My job was to make sure that we didn’t open fire until absolutely necessary. If at all.
“Van, report,” I said in a whisper. I had eyes on the nearest guard patrol, three guys in black tactical gear loitering near a sand volleyball court in a really shitty guard formation. Two of them were smoking, which told me that their level of preparedness was lower than low.
Either this was a heavily baited trap, or they weren’t expecting us. I leaned toward the former in my planning but hoped for the latter. Better prepared than not, right?
“Janus,” I whispered. I heard his group coming up behind me.
“I can distract them whenever you are ready,” he said, “but if anyone is paying the slightest bit of telepathic attention, it will be obvious quickly.”
“Those two over there,” Zollers said, nodding toward a pair of guards patrolling closer to the building. They were clearly visible against the grey concrete surfaces of the resort. Actually, the resort looked like a seventies-era fallout shelter or something, it was so drab. Three levels of concrete edifices separated by a series of glass windows on each floor. There was wood to dress the whole thing out, a dark cedar color so blah that I looked away quickly. “They have an ongoing bit of tension. I think they’ve fought recently. Should be easy to start that fire again.”
“Interesting,” Janus said.
“Want some help?” Foreman asked. He wasn’t wearing his usual suit and tie; he was in jeans and tactical vest and had a pistol hanging from his belt. It looked natural on him, and I had a feeling he hadn’t just carried a gun to photo ops with the sportsmen in his state; he knew how to use it.
“The less of a signature we leave,” Janus said, shaking his head, “the harder it will be for someone like Claire to detect us right now.” He sniffed, rubbing hands over his smooth, bald head. He looked funny with all his hair burned off. “I can do this easily.”
I waited and kept an eye on the two guys sauntering near the wall. It didn’t take long for whatever Janus did to have an effect. One of them halted in his tracks and then jerked his head around to look at the other. He reached out, pulling a hand off his rifle and gave the guy a quick shove. The recipient of the push staggered back a step, then leaned into returning the shove himself. A loud exclamation reached our ears like a gunshot, and the two guys were all over each other, pushing, then throwing punches, rolling around in the grass like schoolboys, but more vicious.
The smokers near the volleyball court saw it happening and broke formation. They ran for the guys who were fighting, just tossed their cigarettes aside and kicked it into a run. They had a half a football field to go to reach them, but I estimated it wouldn’t take long.
“What have we got, Harper?”
“No other patrols on that side of the building,” Harper replied. “You have a spotter on the third floor balcony on overwatch. He’s looking in the other direction at the moment, though.”
“FOX ONE,” I muttered, “take the shooter.”
I heard the faint noise of a suppressed rifle go off somewhere to my left. It was a bark that echoed only a second, and then I saw movement on a third floor balcony as one of Century’s mercs dropped behind the solid balcony rail.