Part 3 (2/2)

”What?” Rowan's eyes locked with Henderson's. ”What's going on?””I don't like this,” Yos.h.i.+ repeated. ”I've found their channel and cracked it. Their chatter says they're setting up scans and checks, and there's something about a tracker.”

”Any names?” Henderson's shoulders hunched as if warding off a blow.

”Just one. Carson. Mean anything to you?” Yos.h.i.+ blinked, his fingers still tapping the keys. He'd fitted a comm-link in one ear and was monitoring Sigma's use of a comm channel. ”He's due to arrive about twelve hours from now.”

”Oh, Christ.” Henderson closed his eyes briefly. Rowan's stomach turned over, settled uneasily. ”We've got to get everyone out of here. Now.”

”Who's Carson?” Rowan tried to stand up. Her knees shook, and the cot threatened to tip until Henderson put out a hand and steadied it. Then he looked up at her from his easy crouch.

”Pray to G.o.d you never meet him, Miss Price. Yos.h.i.+, get everyone in here. Now.”

”You got it, boss.” Yos.h.i.+ tapped at his keyboard and then spoke into a small handheld comm-unit.

”Everyone, the General wants to see you. We're blowing this taco stand.”

Chapter Six.

Sigma had their central command in a partially-constructed building downtown, which was their first mistake. Their second, Delgado noted as he was brought into the command center, was that they weren't changing chatter channels every few minutes. Yos.h.i.+, he thought. Dammit, boy, be listening. Get a lock on them. Please.

He could remember the thin, quiet j.a.panese man and the General's steely eyes. He could remember Cath's punk haircut and Zeke's blunt fingers. He could even imagine Brew's wide white smile and perfect, burnished ebony skin.

But he couldn't remember her, no matter how hard he tried. The wall he'd pushed himself to erect still stood firm. Frustration tasted bitter and familiar, hopelessness acrid like tar.

One of Andrews's two bullyboys pushed Del forward. ”Go on.” The man was grinning. He'd been one of the ones who had administered the initial beatings to soften Del up. Thickset and broken-nosed, he looked a little like Zeke, but he had none of Ezekial's careful movements or self-deprecating humor. For a moment Del considered striking out with fist and mind, killing the man with a quick upward strike to the nose and simultaneously ripping his mind free of its moorings. The thought sent a warm, gratifying feeling through him, almost like the oozing fire of Zed.

But his veins began to creep with the slow, painful needling of his addiction, and he walked slowly across the unfinished flooring, stepping over thick cables running to the computers. This would be an employee lunchroom when completed. One end of the room had a half-finished wall through which late afternoon light bounced. When done, this place would have no light at all except fluorescents. Delgado gave an internal sigh. You couldn't expect people to eat under buzzing tubes every day. It would drive even deadheads mad.

Two horseshoe-shaped banks of monitors, hard drives, and keyboards hosted the nerve center of Sigma's operations here. Andrews's team was in one horseshoe, murmuring back and forth. Papers were signed and the machinery of the chain of command went on. The other horseshoe held shaven-headed commtechs with handlers and psychometric or precognitive talent, monitoring and searching for any disturbing trace in cybers.p.a.ce or the city's grid, any sign of the vanished Society members.

Andrews leaned over a commtech, watching as the shaven-headed kid spider-tapped at two separate keyboards at once, his jaw slack and the monitors above bathing his face in a spectral green glow. A thin thread of drool wandered down the kid's chin. His handler, a tall chestnut-haired woman, stood with her arms crossed, scowling at Andrews.

”Get a lock on them,” Andrews snarled. ”Do it now. If they haven't gone past the check scans they have to be in the city.”

Not necessarily, Del thought. You're an idiot, Andrews. This isn't like you. He must be frantic to catch them. This Price girl was making him look bad.

Del should play it safe, keep his head down and try to get as much information as he could. But he knew, miserably, that he'd made up his mind to escape ahead of schedule. Now it was only a question of how.

The third mistake was almost imperceptible-Andrews didn't immediately notice Del approaching. That meant two things: that Del was no longer considered a threat, and that Andrews was severely distracted.

The skinny, shaven kid began to make a small moaning noise, though his fingers didn't stop blurring overthe keyboards.

”That's enough,” the handler said. ”He won't be useful if you keep pus.h.i.+ng him. Lay off, Andrews.”

Andrews's upper lip pulled back. ”He's finished when I say he's finished. You'd better watch it, or I'll have Breaker convince him.”

The handler seemed supremely unconcerned. She reached down, her fingers circling the boy's wrist.

”Come on, Jarrod.” Her tone was kind, and the boy stopped moaning and froze. ”Let's go get you something to eat.”

”I didn't-” Andrews began, but two of the monitors began to flash red. ”Aha! Fine, take him. A couple of check scans have given the flag.”

Delgado watched as the boy made it to his feet and shambled away, grinning vacantly while his jaw worked, drool coating his chin. Everything burned out but his psychic talent, harnessed to his handler's voice. I could have ended up like that. I still might. The thought he'd cherished ever since they'd recaptured him-I will do whatever I have to do to escape you-returned, circled his mind once, and vanished. Now he had to work.

His skin chilled slightly, the pain from his Zed addiction kicking up a notch.

”You're jonesing.” Andrews tossed him a small black medical pouch, and Delgado caught it reflexively.

”Here. Have a ball, and make it last. Go back to your room. We won't need you until we've brought her in.”

Del nodded. Are you insane? You're giving me my own stock of Zed? ”You've got her?”

”As good as. They've split into two-” Andrews glanced up as another monitor began to flash red.

”Three-” Another. ”What the h.e.l.l?”

The rabbits have divided, or they've found a way to trip all the checkpoints at once. Good thinking. He weighed the bag, backing up while he looked at the monitors. More of them began to glow red. There'd be no reason for them to trip a bunch of checks unless they're getting out. If they're getting out, I could lose them. It'll take me too much time to track them down again.

There would never be a better chance.

”What the h.e.l.l-” Andrews was just a fraction of a second too slow. Delgado was gone before he finished the sentence, slipping out of the command center and into the hallway beyond. With any luck, the s.a.d.i.s.tic b.a.s.t.a.r.d would have his hands too full to notice Del's absence and would a.s.sume he was holed up in his airless little room hyping himself on Zed.

Delgado unzipped the bag a little as he walked down the hall. Three hypos. Enough for six days, twelve if he stretched them to the point of pain. He had a few weapons-two knives and two guns-and his talent for cracking minds. And his wits. It would have to be enough to escape a full-scale appropriations team and track down the foes that slipped so smoothly through Sigma's nets.

The first order of business was getting out of this building. He would have to take the stairs.

He heard chaos erupt behind him, Andrews barking orders. It wasn't like him or the colonel to let Del out of their sight without an armed guard, but Del had his veins full of Zed and had shown none of his former defiance since his recapture. And Andrews had lost sight of the mission. He was now emotionally invested in Rowan Price.She seems to bring that out in a lot of people, Del thought, already running over the building layout in his head. There were some unfinished stairs on the east side, but it was chancy at best.

Del turned east, slipping the bag with the hypos into a small loop attached to his rig that would keep them safe.

”Rest easy, sweetheart,” he muttered, hardly aware he was speaking. ”Agent Breaker's coming to get you.”

Chapter Seven.

The phone buzzed and Cath flipped it open. ”Yeah?” Long pause. ”Great. Great news. 'Kay, we'll see you at home, baby. Tell Zeke I said smoochas.” Her fair, young face broke into a grin as she hung up.

The pixie cut suited her more than the Mohawk had.

She s.h.i.+fted the blue Subaru into reverse and pulled out of the rest stop parking s.p.a.ce. ”Everyone got out okay,” she said. ”How you doing?”

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