Halfskin (21 page)

Hours went by and he stayed at attention. But the room was stuffy and he was jonesing for a smoke. He leaned the door open and fired up a Winston, pulling the first drag deep. The smoke hit the nighttime air thick and white. The paper crackled with satisfaction.

He wasn’t distracted. He had an eye on the outside and inside. No one would get within twenty feet without being seen. And if he saw them, his biomites would automatically trigger a facial recognition alarm and the rest of the team would converge.
Lights out, halfskins.

But they weren’t here, not in the building. No way.

If those two could brain-scramble James, if they could loop that camera, then they wouldn’t stick around the hospital, now would they? Holding down the loading dock was a waste of time, really. They should be on the street, interviewing people, analyzing biomite activity… all the shit he’d been trained to do. Not acting like a doorstop.

The third drag, his head buzzed—

The cigarette cherry popped on the concrete in a shower of embers.

Sam let the smoke leak from his nostrils.

Looking in. Out. And back.

Something was buzzing. They were prepped for this. This was what James experienced before the escape. There was an analysis of his brain waves recorded by his biomites, a manipulation of his perception that made him blank out, almost skip time.

Sam put his finger to his ear.

He didn’t want to call, not yet. Give it a second. Just a second and then he’d report it. He wasn’t a 100% it wasn’t a cigarette buzz and if it was he was sure to catch—

Snip.

A black flash covered his eyes.

Just a moment, like a movie skipped a few frames.

He wasn’t sure, did he blink, or was he thinking, or was he… he was just so confused…

“
What is it, Craven?”
a voice called into his ear.

Sam’s lips moved. Nothing came out.

“
Craven?”

He needed to say something. He must’ve called out and reported the disturbance, he wasn’t sure. He couldn’t explain it was an accident, something was happening. He couldn’t talk, couldn’t talk, couldn’t think straight, he just needed to open up and shout for help—

THERE! THERE!

In the lot! Across the lot! A woman, pushing a wheelchair.

They got by him.

They got by him and he couldn’t…

“SUSPECTS IN SIGHT!” he shouted. “AT THE LOADING DOCK, WOMAN PUSHING A WHEELCHAIR.”

Whatever gripped him had let go.

“IN PURSUIT!”

It had him paralyzed, had him trapped, but she was out of range, lost control of him before they could get out of sight. And now he saw them. Now he knew where they were. And it was only a matter of time. Once there was visual contact and the chopper was overhead, it was over.

Sam was off the loading dock, carefully following. He didn’t want to get too close just yet.

His hand dropped to his gun.

Maybe this time.

45

Her mind was a delicate hand.

It observed the man in the doorway, blowing smoke, wishing for something better. Something more exciting. His name was Sam Craven. He was 26 years old. Never married. Had dated a few times but preferred to keep his options open. He went home for Christmas every year, argued politics and kissed everyone on the cheek when he left.

He was a good man.

A reliable one.

Alert.

Cali sensed his paranoia, knew he was looking for her and Nix as well as any strange sensations. He was primed to pounce. And she preyed on that. He was looking across the parking lot. She could see what he saw—as if she rented his eyesight. There was open asphalt and faded yellow lines. Several cars were spread out beneath the sodium lights. Nothing moved.

Nothing at all.

Cali imagined what she wanted to see in that open space. She pictured it in her own mind as clear as if she had conjured it up on a screen. She played it out, all the way to the end, made sure the details were rich and convincing. Once through was all she had time for. Once through to make it work.

All at once, she projected it into Sam Craven’s mind. He felt the manipulation first, buzzing at the back of his head like wires had been yanked from a secret door just below his hairline and short-circuited. Alarms fired. He began to look around, began to call for back-up, but not before the image crossed his mind like footprints in freshly laid snow.

He saw her pushing a wheelchair. Saw her hustling to get out of sight, surprised when she turned around to see him pursing. Saw her race the wheelchair to the sidewalk and around privet hedges to the street beyond.

His voice trailed off, shouting for his companions to hurry. He had them. He had them dead to rights. He was in pursuit.

The doorway clear.

Cali slipped out of the loading dock and turned to the right. Her mind open, searching for others, she pushed her brother around the corner, under a rampart and around another corner until they reached an empty street.

She didn’t stop running, despite the weakness in her legs and dimness in her vision. She rushed down the sidewalk, across the street, in the opposite direction of the federal agents.

She hurried toward freedom.

46

Marcus was one of the last to reach the loading dock.

His hard-soled shoes weren’t meant for running on linoleum and he bit it on the first corner out of the cafeteria, catching his knee on the corner of a vending machine. He managed a skip-run the rest of the way, slowing around the corners. He couldn’t feel his leg. His breath labored, heart slamming in his ears.

Craven had called on the radio. Marcus spilled his coffee while he stuffed his laptop into his briefcase. At first, he thought he’d apprehended them.
I GOT THEM! I GOT THEM!

The radio crackled with updates as Marcus worked his way to Craven’s position. He couldn’t be sure, it sounded like they were still in pursuit. He couldn’t imagine how they were still chasing after a woman pushing a wheelchair, but there were many scenarios. This was new ground they were embarking upon. They needed to catch these two.

Had to.

Agent Starling was standing on the loading dock. Marcus stopped in the doorway, leaning over to catch his breath. His pant leg was stuck to a dark spot that was growing over his knee.

Starling raised his finger. “That way, sir.”

Marcus nodded. He went down the ramp, hopping mostly on his good leg. His other leg stiffened. He struggled across the parking lot, his chest tightening. The lights turned his skin the color of porridge. He was walking when he turned the corner at the hedges. Across the street, only fifty yards down, three of his men were gathered outside a 6-story parking garage. Marcus walked easily, catching his breath when he arrived. The briefcase repeatedly hammered his hip. He set it on the sidewalk.

“Update,” he demanded.

A short man built like a roadblock told him that the suspects had slipped past the automated gate; they were last seen fleeing to the second level. All the exits were covered. Three men were currently searching the levels. They were on the third floor. So far, no sign.

“It shouldn’t be long, sir.”

“Where’s Craven?”

“On the other side of the building.”

“Get him over here.”

Marcus sat on the edge of a concrete planter. His knee wouldn’t bend. He left it out straight. Craven hustled over a few minutes later, stood in front of him. Marcus sat up, didn’t try to stand.

“What happened?”

Craven went through the details. He was on post at the loading dock when his biomites acted funny, like James had described when the woman and boy escaped. He managed to stay conscious when he noticed them halfway across the parking lot. At that point, he gave chase while calling for backup. Craven saw them enter the parking garage but lost them in the dark as they headed for the second deck.

“And there’s no way they could’ve escaped?”

“No, sir. I took up position next to the elevator and stairwell with the ramp in view. There is no way out of this parking garage, unless they jumped.”

Marcus shook his head. Thinking, thinking.

Craven wanted to go back to his post. He wanted to catch them. Marcus jerked his head, told him to leave. Craven acknowledged him, stopped to speak with other agents.

The distance from the privet hedge to the parking garage was only fifty yards. The parking lot was about fifty yards. A guy like Craven—someone fit, lean, and young—could cover that distance in fifteen seconds. Maybe less.

And a woman pushing a wheelchair…

“Why didn’t you catch them?” Marcus coughed.

Craven turned his head.

Marcus pointed back to the hedge, took a breath. “Why didn’t you catch them?”

“They were almost across the parking lot when I started after them.”

“You said they were halfway across, not almost across. Which is it?”

“A little farther than halfway.”

Marcus stood up. His knee was frozen. “I can’t imagine she could reach the parking garage before you, but I’ll give her the benefit. But how did you not catch her before the second deck?”

Craven thought. “She turned the corner, disappeared in the darkness.”

“Disappeared?” Marcus looked through the entrance. “Did it occur to you that the corner is 100 feet up the ramp?”

Craven remained still.

“So you were on her and then she reached the end of the ramp in, what… three seconds?”

Marcus limped in front of him.

“Pushing a wheelchair.”

Craven’s lips worked without words, running the memory over and over. He was sure it was there, it had happened. He saw it.

“You said you felt the buzzing,” Marcus continued. “When did it stop?”

“Right about here.”

Marcus nodded. He started back toward the hospital.

“She’s in there, I saw it!” Craven shouted. “My eyes weren’t buzzing, I saw that person inside the parking garage. They’re in there!”

Marcus waved without looking. He slung his briefcase over his shoulder, abandoned the parking garage. They could stay there, finish the sweep. They wouldn’t find anything. And Craven would continue to swear what he saw. The fact was, if he doubted it, he’d fall apart. If he faced the reality—that he saw something that wasn’t there—he’d never trust his senses again. He’d be done as an agent. When they turned up nothing, he would convince himself and others that the woman and her brother had somehow slipped out an uncovered entrance.

Somehow.

Marcus limped over to the loading dock. His knee was working a little more fluidly, now that he was moving. The briefcase, however, felt like a bag of concrete.

“When did you arrive?” he asked the agent posted in the doorway.

“Sir?”

“When did you get here to guard this exit?”

He thought. “About a minute before you arrived.”

Marcus looked around. The parking lot was surrounded by brick walls and shrubbery to his right. There was a sidewalk to his left that went around the building. He handed the briefcase to the agent, told him to hold it. Told him there was sensitive data in there. It was the most unadvisable thing to do, hand something like that over, but he cared a lot less than he did only fifteen minutes earlier.

He made it around the corner, making his knee bend as he went. He followed the path beneath a portico and past the entrance to another building to the street beyond. He stopped there, looked left and right.

It was almost 4:00 AM.

Crickets were the only thing that disturbed the distant Interstate.

He reached inside his coat, took out the phone. It was time to make a call. Time to tell his superiors what had happened.

Tell them it was over.

47

The keycard slipped from Cali’s fingers, the corner rebounded off the standard hotel carpeting and bounced to the other side of the hallway. She put her hands on her face. Her fingers cold. Cheeks burning.

Legs quaking.

We made it. We made it this far.

She steadied herself on the wheelchair’s handles. Nix’s head rested at an odd angle. The clerk at the front desk was more interested in a magazine than the sleeping kid in a wheelchair, checked them into their room.

We’re on our way to meet family,
Cali told her.
Just running a little late.

The clerk pursed her lips, tapped at the keys.
Jenny Meggett?

Yes, that’s me.

Tappity-tap-tap-tap. The girl coded a keycard and handed it over. She didn’t ask for a credit card, there was already one on file. Cali hesitated at the desk, then pushed towards the elevator. She wanted to ask if a little girl checked into her room, but thought better if she didn’t. She wanted to know, but thought better if she went and looked herself.