My bet was they wouldn’t consider that until they knew other options were exhausted. The noise outside was disturbing, but not overly loud. They had modern, quiet guns.
So I had to clear this building fast, while my temporary ally was ahead.
I heard a crackle and smiled. They had the same cracker he’d used on me, and his chameleon was defunct. Of course, that meant he had to undress from it.
He’d closed the door behind him, but I heard some action. I pulled it open, slipped inside, closed it and sought a cubby. I found one, but it had a tabled vase in it. Across from that was a recess for shoes and coats. I slid into that. The house had tile everywhere, nice wood, granite edging.
This was a very nice place, and why shouldn’t a major underworld figure have a nice cottage on Grainne, where no one would actively bother with him, and he had ready access to banks and travel?
Randall had dumped the chameleon in a heap in the parlor to the left. I heard combat in the back and headed that way, nerves naked for threats, pistol in each hand.
I passed one corpse and one almost. He’d smashed them, not shot them. I didn’t think it made much difference now. I saw movement, and a head protruded from a doorway.
“Don’t sh—” he said as I shot him. It looked as if he’d already been wounded. My shot ended his pain forever.
It was anticlimactic for now. Five down outside, four down inside, and a boobytrap on the wall near the kitchen shot to hell. Randall was good, no doubt about it.
Then there was a rush as four more goons poured through a door with subguns. They shouted and screamed, both to distract me and in fear. They weren’t sure of their odds.
I Boosted, dropped, rolled, shot, rolled again, sprung hard enough I broke the leg on a table as I went through it, got one guy in the shin and he tumbled screaming, his buddies piling on top of him. The CNS on top of the stims and fatigue just burned me into a nauseated frenzy. I paused in my accelerated race enough to pick my targets. Two shots, two heads erupted spattering mist, and I bounced behind a chair that didn’t stop the bullets the two tangled survivors fired at me, but I wasn’t there when they did. I caught one obliquely in his gun arm, realized it was the same one I’d legshot earlier. They tried to aim, tangled in each other and I shot again, then twice more.
My ribs hurt like hell where I’d gone through the table, but I was intact otherwise.
Then I heard a muffled noise.
It was very faint, but after a decade of exposure, I knew that was my daughter. Tiny hints of noise in familiar patterns were a clear ID, better than any image.
I kicked Boost again, and wondered how long I could do this. I was eating up my own adrenaline, cortisol and glycogen, in addition to the bonus levels the bioplant provided.
Still, I’d IDed the sound and location. I had one full pistol and one with two shots I decided to stuff into a pocket. I didn’t have time to disarm the corpses, but I wasn’t leaving this one around.
I estimated the room size below based on echoes and reflections, liked what I came up with, and went in full bore.
I ripped down the stairs in two jumps, into the room and saw bodies. Most were down. Two were up. It was evenly lit by long light tubes. There was a couch, a vid and a small fridge. Clearly, this was set up as a prison, with this as the guard room.
Randall had reached Chel first. She’d been locked in a bare bathroom in the corner I could see through a heavy reinforced door. She had some bruising. He’d stunned her and dragged her out.
He was behind her, had her in a hard arch that immobilized her, and I could just see his eyes over her. I could make that shot, maybe, but it probably wouldn’t kill him fast enough.
My heart turned to a lump of cold stone.
“Thank you, Kimbo.” I met his eyes. I deliberately did not meet hers. I tried to send a psychic message as I faced him. No, girl, this does not involve you. This is between him and me. And please, please don’t try to help. Please.
His voice was muffled around her. He said, “You’re welcome. Now please ensure the vehicle is handy. I parked it a hundred meters south of the drive.” Right. They thought they could trust him. I thought I could. He’d driven that three kilometers and waited, hoping I’d either kill the goons for him or die in the process.
He said, “Your daughter and I have a trip to make. I’ll release her once I’m at the jump point unharmed”
“I can’t do that.”
His eyes crinkled in a smile I couldn’t see. It was creepy. “Yet you must. I have life and death control here. I have a deadman switch on me and a small charge against her shoulder.” He raised his gun but didn’t shoot.
I forced my voice to be steady as I said, “That means I kill you.” Would he really? I thought kids were off limits. They had been so far. But this case was special . . .