Die Run Hide (31 page)

She swayed a little, not wanting to leave, not knowing how to stay. She thought she could take down the two guards, but she couldn’t fight everyone in the complex and get Gianni out. Not now. Not without a plan.

A sensation of warmth lingered near her left breast. She wondered if the contact with the light force had affected her heart. Then she realized what had caused the sensation — the St. Jude medal. It was still warm from the jolt that had rocketed through her.

She recalled their moment on the plane. What she had wished for as he stared with unblinking focus at the medal. Her eyes brimmed over. It had been a sweet crazy dream to believe he could just run away with her.

The forces against them were too strong. They had stolen the dream as surely as they had stolen his memory of her.

She loved him more than ever, more than their first time together when she had been tipsy from champagne, more than when he had nursed her after the mission in Budapest, more than when he had helped her through the solo. She loved him more than her own freedom.

“Remember,” she whispered.

Then she turned and walked away.

Anika cut the jetbike’s engine and coasted into position at the mouth of the alley. If she were claustrophobic, the mega-rise buildings that lined the narrow passage would be causing heart palpitations. She tried not to think about the fact that this set-up area was enormous compared to the space she was about to enter.

She quick stepped down the alley, removed a fake slab of granite from the side of the building and tossed a handful of phosphorescent dust through the grate. The interior of the temperature duct brightened. The dust would stay active for thirty minutes. That was long enough. It had to be.

She removed the prototype flex-laser from the case. Its dull gray barrel measured inches thicker and degrees cruder than the U.N.I.T. invention she had used — or almost used — during the museum mission in Ohio.

Jorge’s team had followed her specs for the weapon, including an added feature of her own design. But it had been a rush job and, in the end, the aesthetics had suffered. Although Jorge had curled his lip at the flex-laser’s clunky weight and feel, Anika didn’t give a damn about how the thing looked. As long as it worked.

She fired short laser pulses at the bars of the grate and created an opening large enough to slip through. Then she pulled the silver chain out from under the unisuit, brought the St. Jude medal to her lips, and kissed it for luck. The medal went back inside and the suit’s hood cinched tight around her head. After a final breath of fresh air, she slid the weapon and case through the opening and followed them on her belly into the duct.

She pointed the micro-camera atop the laser’s nozzle at her face and adjusted the focus until the image grew sharp. The sight of her artificial round eyes, apple cheeks, and bow-shaped lips made her stomach turn. Though Jorge had assured her the look was among his most popular, she didn’t care for it. But she hadn’t been able to wait for a custom package.

She had run out of time. Or rather, Gianni had. U.N.I.T. had moved up his relocation to today. Evan hadn’t been able to discover where they were taking him, but at least she had learned about the change soon enough to alert Anika who had raced back to New Angeles.

She uncoiled the laser’s barrel and depressed the green button on the control band. The barrel powered forward and snaked left at the curve. She switched to the monitor. Dark brown fur skittered across the screen.

She hit more buttons and the barrel reared up. Its tip jerked right, then left, pinging against the sides of the tunnel.

The rats ran for cover.

“Beasts,” she muttered. Even though they were a critical part of her plan, she hated the sight of them.

The barrel turned and twisted down three levels until it approached the section that paralleled Clinic’s isolation rooms. There, she slowed the weapon down even as her pulse quickened.

In the first room, a woman lay on a wall bed and stared at the ceiling. Restraints bound her neck, torso, and limbs.

Anika didn’t recognize her.

The second room stood empty. So did the third.

Come on.

She propelled the weapon toward the next room, then stopped. Her pulse spiked and her finger froze on the button of her control band.

Gianni sat in a straight-backed chair, the lone piece of furniture in the small room. He wore a dark suit and leather shoes polished to a high gloss. Her heart deflated at the vacant look in his unblinking eyes, the streak of gray that started at his left temple and ran the length of his hair. His arms and legs were free of restraints, but he sat as still as he had in D zone.

If she were in his place, she’d be pacing like a caged tiger.

“Hold on,” she whispered. “I’m here. It’s almost over.”

She backed the camera away from the vent, lowered the barrel to the floor and moved it forward, then down another two levels. More rats huddled together in a corner.

Wake up, little beasts. Time to go to work.

She set the laser to the alternate chamber, the special feature she had designed. She took aim and hit the trigger.

The liquid compound streamed a crisscross pattern over the rats. It solidified on contact with the animals’ body heat. The more they struggled, the more friction they generated and the stronger the material became. In a few seconds, they were trapped in an inescapable net.

Despite its crude aesthetics, the laser had worked perfectly. A good trade for the intel she had fed Jorge.

“Relax, beasts. You’ll be free soon enough.”

She retracted the barrel, then moved it close to the center of the end wall. The weapon’s laser fire burned a hole large enough for the trapped rats. She wound the barrel around the makeshift net and edged them through the hole into the decontamination chamber.

They formed a wriggling mound of dark fur and white netting.

Stop moving already
.

But the rats kept up their frenzied dance.

Blowing out an impatient breath, Anika programmed the weapon for its lowest laser setting and fired. The blast stunned the rats into stillness.

She calculated she had ten minutes — 250 fast breaths — before the rats’ body temperatures cooled and the solid strips dissolved.

When the rodents regained consciousness, they would be free to roam throughout the white-tiled room and spread their germs across its pristine surfaces.

Before that happened, she needed to manually jam the duct’s three lockdown points that stood between the entrance and Gianni’s room.

Anika slipped the case over her shoulders, engaged the suction disks on her gloves, and belly crawled down the narrow passageway, following the barrel’s path. The slits in her unisuit released the phosphorescent dust that marked the return route.

When she had crawled to within a few meters of Gianni’s room, the rats began to stir. The compound had melted.

Anika licked a salty drop from her upper lip. Despite her suit’s temperature-regulating material, a film of sweat coated her body.

She waited until the rats were rousing from their laser-induced stupor before retracting the laser. As the barrel rounded the last bend in the duct and hissed toward her, the computerized voice of U.N.I.T.’s alert system sounded its warning.

Decontamination chamber breach. Lockdown initiated.

Anika visualized the security protocols activated in response to the lockdown — the computer sealing all ingress and egress points to isolate any contaminating or hostile agents, ’bots swarming through the compound, operatives reporting to their assigned stations, shields lowering around Command’s office.

She inched the barrel forward until she had a good view of Gianni.

He hadn’t moved. His forearms still lay on the chair arms and his feet rested at the base of the chair legs. His eyes remained fixed on the wall.

A sharp stab daggered through her heart. It was agony to see him this way, oblivious to his surroundings, even to the two operatives that had taken up positions in the room.

Kent, her teammate from the Midway mission, crouched in the far corner, weapon trained on the door. The other operative had his back to her, but there was no mistaking the extra broad shoulders and the Gospel quote tattooed down his triceps.

Anika set her laser to maximum stun. Took a practice sighting on the security cams and the operatives, then fired.

Kent toppled forward and Mac hit the floor with a thud.

Lockdown complete. Stand by for further instructions.

A quick backward glance told her the phosphorescent dust was still working. She eased herself through the vent and dropped to her feet.

Gianni hadn’t budged — not during the laser fire, the removal of the vent, her entry into the room. Only his eyes had moved. His stare had shifted from the hologram of nature scapes on the wall to her.

She pushed her hood back and slipped the St. Jude medal over her head. She fisted her hand to quell the shaking and looped the chain around it so the medal swung freely.

His gaze didn’t leave her face.

She swallowed, ran a tongue over her lips and spoke the words from her heart. The ones that he had told her he would remember. No matter what.

“Run away with me.” Her voice came out in a hoarse whisper.

Gianni didn’t respond.

Why isn’t it working? Is it because of the voice chip?

She cleared her throat and repeated the words.

His gaze travelled. From her eyes. To the medal. And back.

Please, please, remember.
She pleaded with her eyes. But not with her voice. The only words she would speak were the ones they had agreed to on the plane.

She moved the medal closer to Gianni, turned it so the nick along the edge showed. “Run away with me.”

“Where?”

The single word slid out of him so smoothly that she wondered if she had imagined it.

“What?” she blurted out.

“Where?” Gianni repeated. His gaze tunneled into her. The blank look was gone, replaced with a spark of intimacy. “Where do you want to run to?”

Her pulse leapt. “You remember? Everything?”

“Everything that matters.”

She lunged at him. Her hands grabbed his shoulders, shook him. “Why didn’t you respond sooner? Why did you hold back?”

His glance skimmed her face, her hair. “You look different. Sound different. I wasn’t sure it was you.”

“Be sure.” She lowered her head and kissed him, taking her fill of his lips, his mouth.

He fingered her fake curls, rubbed his cheek against hers. “The camouflage is good. Feels real.”

“Don’t get used to it. It’s temporary.”

Gianni cupped her face between his hands. “You’re beautiful. Whatever you look like.”

She covered his hands with hers and wished she could stop time. But they had to move. She pressed her lips to his palms. “We’d better go.”

“I can’t.” Gianni dropped his hands. “My legs … they’re paralyzed.”

“What?” Her heart skidded to a stop. She stared at his bent legs that hadn’t moved. Now she understood why there were no restraints. “What did they do to you?”

“A precaution. To ensure a smooth relocation.”

“Not permanent, then?” Relief arrowed through her.

“It should wear off in twenty-four hours.”

“We don’t have that long. I’ve jammed the lockdown points between here and the entrance, but they’ll only hold for another sixteen minutes. We have to get out before then.” She pulled off the gloves and tugged them over his hands. “These have suction. They’ll make it easier for you. Even without your … ” She stopped. “You can use your upper body, right?”

“I have to get into the duct first,” Gianni said gently.

“I’m working on it.”

She stood and scanned the spare room. There wasn’t anything in it that could help lift Gianni into the vent. “I’ll lift you up.”

“I’m dead weight from the waist down.”

She bit her lower lip. “I can get you on my shoulders and stand on the chair. You can pull yourself up from there.”

“The vent’s too high,
cara
.”

The computer announced an update.
Sub-level 5 cleared. Remaining levels stand by.

“We have to try. Lean forward.” She reached for his shoulders.

“No.” He held her wrists, the pressure from the suction disks tugging at her skin.

“I’m not leaving you here, dammit.” She twisted out of his grasp and fastened her hands on his shoulders. “Not again, do you understand? Not ever again.”

“Stow away on my transport. Docking station three at oh-eight-hundred hours. Once we get to the new location, I’ll have the use of my legs. We can escape from there.”

“I’ve got a boat
here
, Gianni. It’s outfitted with surveillance, provisions, everything we need.” She dug her fingers into his shoulders. “We’re so close. All we have to do is get you inside the duct.” She rested her forehead against his. “But how?”

“Maybe I can help, sweetface.” Mac’s voice jerked her upright.

Anika dove for the laser, even though it was too late. She braced for the hit. It didn’t come. Crouched low, she aimed the nozzle above Gianni’s head. In the direction of the voice. Still the hit didn’t come.

Instead, Mac stood with his arms out to his sides, grinning. “Don’t shoot, sweetface. I’m on your side this time.”

She switched her gaze from Mac to Kent, slumped in the corner.

“Don’t worry about her. She’s not wearing one of these.” Mac tugged on his long-sleeved, high-collared shirt.

Anika’s eyes narrowed.

“I know it looks like a regular shirt, but it’s been treated with some super-secret coating Evan dreamed up.”

“Evan?”

“Yeah, she made sure I got assigned this room. Gave me the shirt this morning. At breakfast.” Mac’s grin widened. “She made porridge.”

“Why do you want to help us?” Anika kept the laser trained on him.

“Evan promised to keep her new boobs if I did.” At Anika’s hard stare, he protested, “Well, she did. She also
asked
me.” He cocked an eyebrow at Anika. “Didn’t order me. Didn’t threaten me. She just asked. Real nice like.” He shrugged his mountainous shoulders.