The Siren Project (16 page)

“Making contact now,” Mitch whispered.

He straightened his tie, then strolled between
the tables, casually looking left and right for any remaining guards. By the
time he reached the table, he was sure the senator's guards were cooling their heels
in a tin box above the tenth floor. He slipped into the vacant seat beside
Fraser, who turned toward him with a practiced air of informality and a warm
smile.

“Good afternoon, I’m George Fraser. I don’t
believe we've met.” The senator said with polished congeniality, extending his
hand to shake.

Mitch took his hand, looking Fraser squarely
in the eye. “Mathew Prescott. Pleased to meet you, senator.” Fraser's smile wavered
while Mitch gripped his hand firmly, not giving him a chance to pull away. Mitch
slipped his left hand into his coat pocket meaningfully, ensuring with a look
that the senator understood he was armed.

“Who are you?” Fraser asked in a low tone, unafraid.

“So, you did meet Mathew Prescott, because
you know I’m not him.” Mitch tightened his grip on the older man's hand angrily.

“You’re making a very big mistake, son.”

“How about Lawrence Rayborne. Do you think
I could be him?”

Fraser was silent, glancing at the ballroom
doors uncertainly.

“Don’t expect those four over dressed apes
to be coming back any time soon. I’ve got them on ice.”

The senator took the news in his stride,
relaxing now that he understood the situation. “What do you want?”

“I want you to stand up, and walk calmly
out those doors.” Mitch leaned closer. “Considering what you did to Prescott, I
would consider it a pleasure to put a bullet in your brain, so if you even look
like running, or calling for help, know that I won’t hesitate.”

“You’re going to live just long enough to
regret this.”

Mitch released his hand, then they stood
together. Fraser gave the others sitting at the table a curt nod, before
starting to weave his way between the tables, toward the exit.

“On our way,” Mitch whispered.

“Mouse says the elevators are still jammed,”
Christa reported.

Fraser reached the ballroom doors, after shaking
hands and exchanging pleasantries with several people. Mitch moved in close
behind him as he pushed one of the doors open and stepped through.

Outside, Mitch put his hand on the senator’s
arm. “Go left.” They crossed the floor to where Christa sat, then Mitch guided Fraser
into the seat opposite her. The senator studied Christa with interest, but
clearly did not recognize her.

Christa relaxed, regulating her breathing
and focusing her concentration. She reached into the senator's mind,
psychically sifting through the patterns she sensed there.

“What is this?” Fraser asked uncertainly.

“Shut up, senator,” Mitch snapped.

Fraser fell silent, watching Christa
uncertainly. After almost a minute, she turned to Mitch. “He’s not conditioned.”

The senator’s face showed instant
realization. “So, it’s you!” He turned to Mitch with a knowing look. “Which
means you must be Mitchell.”

“I always wanted to be famous.”

Christa heard Mouse’s voice on the cell
phone. She picked it up. “Repeat.”

“They’ve figured it out. I’ve lost control
of the elevator. It's climbing to eighteen now.”

Christa threw Mitch a warning look, keeping
the cell phone close to her ear.

“What's your connection with the Siren
Project?” Mitch asked.

“Is that a housing development?”

“Don’t screw with me, senator. You’re not
conditioned, which means you’re near the top of the food chain. You know what
it is.”

“Are you going to shoot me here, in the
lobby, in front of all these witnesses?”

“I might!”

Christa relayed Mouse’s latest report. “The
elevator's coming down.”

Fraser smiled. “Looks like you have about
thirty seconds to decide. But killing me won’t change anything.”

“One day, you son of a bitch, you’re going
to stand trial. For Prescott, for Rayborne,” Mitch glanced at Christa, “And the
others.”

“You have no idea what you’re dealing with,
son.”

“Eighth floor,” Christa repeated, the cell
phone pressed to her ear.

“We know who you are. That’s a good start.”
Mitch nodded for Christa to follow, then started for the main entrance. She
passed him the cell phone as they hurried out onto the street and turned left,
disappearing from the senator’s sight. Mitch spoke hurriedly to Mouse as they
ran onto the ramp down to the car park. “Okay, we’re out. Buy us some time.”

“Affirmative.”

Behind them, the hotel’s fire alarm
sounded. The elevators all stopped at the closest floor and opened, refusing to
move. Warning messages sounded in every elevator, indicating that elevators
could not be used during fire emergencies. The elevator carrying the four guards
stopped on the second floor, forcing them to use the fire stairs.

Once in the car, Mitch drove up the ramp,
turned onto the street and cruised away from the hotel at a sedate pace. He
checked the rear vision mirror as they blended into the traffic, ensuring they
were not being followed.

“Clean away,” Mitch said confidently.

A moment later, the road in front of them
exploded in sparks as machine gunfire raked the street, then a helicopter banked
overhead. Mitch looked up to see Bradick shooting through the chopper's open
side door with an automatic weapon.

“Where did that come from?” Christa asked
surprised.

Mitch swerved into another street and
picked up speed. “When they figured out the elevator breakdown was a trick,
they must have called for the chopper. It had to have seen us leave the hotel!”

He pulled on the hand brake, spun the car
ninety degrees, then planted his foot on the gas in a smooth motion, sending
the rental car racing into an alley. Christa grabbed a hand grip, giving him a
surprised look.

“Secret Service driver training!” He
grinned.

At the end of the alley, Mitch braked,
swinging out onto another street. He checked the mirrors for any sign of the
chopper behind them, then heard the rhythmic beating of rotors grow rapidly
louder. Bullets tore into the rear of the car, narrowly missing them, then
tracer licked the street beside them. Christa wound the window down and fired
three well aimed shots, each one hitting the chopper. The chopper lurched away
a short distance, but stayed in sight of the car.

“That won’t hold them long.” Suddenly, she
grabbed her head, suppressing a scream as a directed energy beam struck the
car. “Ugh!. . .”

Mitch’s cell phone, lying in the coin tray,
exploded in sparks, then the engine died as the car’s electrical system shorted
out. The helicopter swept overhead, circling high over the buildings and passing
momentarily out of sight.

“Can you run?”

Christa nodded weakly, unable to speak.

He jumped out, ran to her side, and dragged
her from the car. He could hear the helicopter coming back, but couldn’t see it.
Mitch pulled her right arm over his shoulder, holding her around the waist, then
drew his gun and fired three shots into the car's gas tank. Streams of fuel
poured onto the road as he helped Christa toward a nearby department store,
then he fired a shot into the expanding pool of gasoline beneath the car. The
fuel exploded, engulfing the vehicle in flames.

“Why?” Christa stammered as she breathed
deeply, trying to clear her head.

“Make them think we’re dead in the car. Buy
us some time.” Mitch pocketed the gun and dragged her into the department store
as the chopper appeared again, circling the flaming car. A rope line dropped
from the chopper to the road, near the car.

“They’ll be on the ground soon.” Christa
said as she released her grip on Mitch’s shoulder and took her own weight.

“Yeah, and I just lost my second damn phone
to that thing. No way to call Mouse for back up now.”

Mitch approached the sales counter near the
entrance. A young woman served a long line of customers waiting to make their
purchases.

“Is there a back way out of here?”

“One moment, sir,” the sales assistant
replied as she scanned the bar codes of items a customer was buying.

Mitch glanced at the security cameras
scattered around the department store, then at the credit card reader on the
sales counter. He produced his credit card, and offered it to the sales
assistant. “Scan this card.”

The sales assistant gave him an irritated
look. “You’ll have to wait your turn, sir.”

He turned to see Bradick sliding expertly
down the rope to the ground, the machine gun slung across his back. Mitch
turned to the female customer the sales assistant was serving. “This is your
lucky day, ma’am. I'll pay for everything you’re buying, if you let her swipe
my card now.” Mitch held the card in front of the woman’s face.

The woman looked confused. “Sure mister.”

Mitch handed the card to the sales
assistant. “You heard her, swipe it.”

The sales assistant looked confused. “She’s
buying over two hundred dollars worth of merchandise.”

“I don’t care if she’s buying a Ferrari. Swipe
the damn card.”

The female customer’s eyes widened
greedily, then she glanced eagerly over her shoulder to the merchandise
displays. “Do you mind if I get something else, there was a sheet set back
there I wanted.”

Christa watching the street, said. “There’s
two on the ground now. They know we’re not in the car.”

Mitch glanced through the glass doors. Bradick
and another agent were beside the empty burning rental car looking up and down
the street. Mitch motioned to the shop assistant, “Hurry, swipe it!”

“Wait, wait,” the female customer said. “My
sheet set!”

The woman hurried off to get her sheets
while the sales girl slid the card through the scanner. Mitch turned the small
LCD screen so he could see it. After a moment, the ‘Transaction Complete’
message disappeared and words typed across the screen.

I AM HERE. EB.

Mitch looked at the card scanner, but there
were only numbers on the key pad. “Damn. No way to communicate.”

LOOK AT ME.

Mitch read the words on the small screen,
then looked up to see the security cameras on the floor were turning toward
him. He waved his gun at the doors.

“We need help, they’re outside.”

I KNOW.

He knows? How?
“I thought you couldn’t read lips!”

I LEARN FAST.

The next customer in line glanced from the
security camera Mitch was talking to, to the replies appearing on the LCD read
out. “Who are you talking to?”

The two agents were approaching the glass
doors. Mitch faced the camera and yelled.

“Lock the doors!”

SPEAK SLOWLY PLEASE.

“Lock! . . . The! . . . Doors!”

Bradick reached the glass doors first, gun
in hand, eyes glued to Mitch. Mechanical clicks sounded from the glass doors as
the electronic locking system was activated. Mitch turned to see Bradick push
on the glass door firmly, then again harder.

“Who is Echelon?” the sales assistant
asked.

“What?”

The girl pointed to the LCD screen which
now held a new message.

ECHELON IS TASKED AGAINST YOU!

Mitch felt a chill roll down his spine. “Shit!”
He looked up to the security camera and spoke slowly and clearly.

“Are we all in the dictionary?”

AFFIRMATIVE. MITCHELL. WARTENBURG. SZILINSKY.
MALLESON.

Christa was backing away from the glass
doors. “Mitch, what are we doing?”

Mitch ignored her. “What intensity?”

GLOBAL DEPLOYMENT WITH PRIMARY KEY
ASSIGNMENT.

Mitch nodded, a sinking feeling in his
stomach. “We need a way out of here!”

I WILL LEAD YOU.

The female customer came running back to
the counter with her arms full of sheets. “These too!”

Mitch snatched his credit card from the
sales assistant’s hand, and smiled at the customer. “Too late,” he said, as the
fluorescent ceiling lights in the department store went out, except for a row
of lights forming a path across the store’s ceiling.

“Christa, that way!” Mitch pointed to the
aisle under the path of fluorescent lights, as he started running.

Bradick fired at the electronic lock, but
the glass doors shuddered and held firm. The second agent fired at Mitch. Bullets
punched tiny holes through the thick security glass and crashed into the
display stands as customers screamed and ran for cover. Mitch and Christa
crouched as they raced along the aisle beneath the path of fluorescent lights. Several
times, they changed aisles as the fluorescent path overhead snaked through the
department store to another set of glass doors, which unlocked and slid open as
they arrived. Mitch saw a security camera following them as they ran out into
the street.