StarCraft II: Devils' Due (30 page)

looking for any excuse to cut us out of this. Butler’s not

an idiot, but he’d have to act way too fast.”

“What if he tel s the whole damn convention?”

“He won’t, not unless he has to. That ain’t his style.

You know grabbin’ us has always been a personal

thing with him. He’l try to get us first on his own.”

“I cannot believe it,” Jim fumed. “Out of al the

people in that place—what, a couple hundred? More?

—you happen to catch his eye across a crowded

room.”

“Almost sounds romantic, don’t it?” said Tychus,

and final y gave in to the humor of the situation. He

threw back his head and let out a loud guffaw. Jim

stared at him furiously for a moment, then his lips

twitched, and a few seconds later he, too, was

laughing at the absurdity of it al .

Tychus wiped his eyes. “Wel , I guess it woulda

been too easy without a few more wrinkles to

complicate matters,” he said. “Can’t have boring on

our last heist, now, can we?”

“That woman! After her!” ordered Wilkes Butler.

Rett immediately took off after the tal , attractive

woman who a second ago had been at Tychus

Findlay’s side. Butler went after Tychus. The crowd

was thick, and it took too long for Wilkes Butler to

push through it. He realized even as he tried that he

would be too late to spot Raynor and Findlay leaving.

He always was.

He emerged on the street, glancing around. There

was no clue where they might have gone, and there

wasn’t any indication that they had come out here.

They could have doubled back into the hotel, taken

the elevator to any one of the multiple stories, or

ducked into the restroom. Maybe even al of those

things. The marshals had been permitted to carry

weapons with them to the event, but Butler had opted

to leave his in his room, laboring under the mistaken

impression that he might actual y be able to relax for

four days.

Rett came up behind him. “Did my best, but she

vanished.”

Butler grunted. “Likely simply an expensive hooker.”

Such women were paid to be discreet; her

disappearing act probably was one of the reasons

she was so expensive. Even so, any information, even

from a high-class prostitute, would’ve been useful,

and he was disappointed they’d lost her. Stil , he did

not rebuke Rett; his deputy had doubtless done his

best.

“What now?”

What, indeed. “Wel , he may have caught us off

guard, but I don’t think he planned for that. He certainly

looked surprised enough to see me. That could work

to our advantage. I need to do some research first.

Keep this quiet until we know what we’re dealing with.

I’l let you know as soon as I know what our next step

is.”

Rett nodded. “Yes, sir,” he said.

“Go back in and keep socializing. Don’t want to

raise any alarms just yet.”

Butler sighed as Rett returned to the party. He

mul ed over his options, and the things he needed to

find out, as he stepped back inside and returned to

his room.

He had no misconceptions about his strengths and

weaknesses. He wel knew that he was not a

lightning-fast, bril iant thinker. But he also knew he

wasn’t stupid. He was careful, and methodical, and

usual y very successful. It was mainly for this reason

that Findlay and Raynor had gotten under his skin as

badly as they had. They were the two men he’d been

chasing the longest without ever catching.

And he badly, badly wanted to catch them.

He closed the door, loosened his tie, and fired up

his computer. He chafed at even the brief delay of the

fingerprint scan required for him to access the most

sensitive case files back on New Sydney.

First, he had to decide if he wanted to bring

everyone in on this. There were certainly more

dangerous criminals out there, but most of the people

he’d attended seminars with over the last two days

would know of Raynor and Findlay, and would hanker

for the glory of being the one to bring them to justice.

That didn’t sit wel with Butler. Most of the crimes they

had committed over the years had taken place on one

of his planets, had wronged his people, and he

wanted to be the one to have the satisfaction of

saying the happiest of phrases: “You’re under arrest.”

The feeling was a bit selfish, and he told himself that if

he couldn’t figure things out quickly, he would enlist

some aid. But for now, he wanted to see what he

could come up with.

So … what sort of things were Tychus and Jim

likely to be engaged in on Bacchus Moon? They had

never been hired assassins, nor did they tend to harm

innocent bystanders. Most of the people who got

injured during their robberies were professional

guards, and even then—and Wilkes admitted this

grudgingly—Findlay and Raynor usual y managed to

disable the guards without kil ing them. So it wasn’t

likely that they were here to kil anyone.

Second, they liked money. They liked to take it and

they liked to spend it. Normal y, that would mean

Butler would focus on where they might acquire

credits, and where they might spend them.

Unfortunately, there were far too many places here

where they could do both of those things.

He ordered a sandwich and a pot of coffee from

room service and removed his tie altogether, tossing

it on the bed with a sigh as he unbuttoned his col ar.

It was going to be a long night.

The very audacity of the whole thing was why it

was going to work, Jim thought. As Tychus had said

somewhat more crudely, “This robbery has bal s.”

They had gone over the plan several times. They

had it scheduled down to the minute. Al their

information was completely up-to-date. They had

checked and double-checked equipment, schedules,

weapons, and blueprints, and now al that remained

was to actual y do the thing.

It was 1256 when the five of them entered the bank

and stood in line for what Tychus cal ed a “dry run.” It

would give them a chance to familiarize themselves

with the bank’s interior, tel ers, patterns, and so on.

They had decided to proceed exactly as they would

tomorrow. So they had arrived in the hovercar they

would be using, which was now pul ed up close to the

bank’s careful y manicured lawn. They wore what they

would be wearing this time tomorrow, and they had

brought their weapons just in case something went

wrong.

Tychus was looking a bit flamboyant: in addition to

the natty vest Jennifer had made for him, his suit coat

pocket sported a silk handkerchief, his hands were

encased in fine leather gloves, and every inch of him

was creased, ironed, and spit-polished. The vest was,

of necessity, so distinctive, they’d figured the rest of

him should be as wel . After al , Tychus was always

memorable by virtue of his sheer size. The others,

except for Jim, were clean-shaven and sported

haircuts and tailored suits, but stil managed to be

nondescript and would likely not be recal ed too

clearly by witnesses.

The bank screamed respectability at every turn,

from the conservative yet high-quality furniture, to the

original paintings on the wal s, to the polished gleam

of the red-brown tile. Tasteful, luxurious, unobtrusive.

Jim shifted his weight as he stood in line, feigning

boredom and looking around. There was the entrance

to the vault room; inside was the vault itself, where the

money would be kept. Over there were meeting

rooms. Down the corridor were staff offices,

restrooms, custodians’ closets. Just as the blueprints

had said there would be.

Casual y, Tychus drew his pocket watch out and

frowned. He glanced up at the large chrono on the

wal . It ticked placidly, revealing that the time was now

1259.

Tychus shook his head at the pocket watch as if he

were disappointed in it, pul ed up the winding crown,

mimed setting the time, then pushed the crown back

down.

“Oh, dear,” came a voice.

Jim and Tychus recognized that voice. Their heads

whipped around and they stared, mouths open, at a

slender man in a business suit with a badge that

proclaimed him as an agent of the Confederate

Bureau of Protection of Monies and Valuable Items.

His eyes were wide, and there was a look of resigned

terror on his face. Jim was suddenly transported back

to the train robbery, with this same shaking man

standing in front of them, forbidding them access to

the train’s safe.

“George Woodcock,” Tychus murmured.

“Woodley,” Raynor corrected in a hol ow voice.

“Mr. Raynor, Mr. Findlay, I am so sorry to have to do

this….” He reached for a comm unit on his black belt.

“Tychus”—it was Ash, his voice a yelp—“what the

hel —”

“So much for a dry run,” Tychus muttered. He threw

off his coat and twisted the winding crown of the

watch counterclockwise twice.

Two things happened simultaneously.

First, the lights went out. The lobby suddenly went

dim but not dark, thanks to the large windows.

Second, the smal , glittering gems set into the

diamond-shaped cavities of his vest sprang forward.

The “jewels” fel to the floor, sprouted legs, and

scuttled away with astonishing speed. Each was

about as large as a thumbnail and about as thick, its

dozens of tiny legs propel ing it toward the now-

screaming crowd. Even before the little things had hit

the floor, Tychus had a gun in each hand.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Tychus said, pitching his

voice loud, “listen very, very careful y to what I am

about to say, and do not make the slightest move.

Your lives wil depend upon it.”

The crowd fel silent, save for the sound of

quickened breathing and the occasional whimper.

“First, outside in the trunk of our vehicle is a large

device that generates an electromagnetic pulse. It

was just switched on from a signal from this charming,

deceptively antiquated-seeming little Umojan device.

Said EMP has deactivated every electrical system

and high-tech microcircuit in this building and for

several blocks around, so trying to flip any alarm

would be quite futile. It would also be quite deadly.

Deadly because, secondly, I direct your attention to

those smal spidery things that are currently right at

your feet,” he said. “They got a long and fancy name,

but I’m just gonna cal ’em spiders. They are

programmed to go toward any heat source between

96 and 102 degrees and stay there until they are

deactivated by yours truly. They are also programmed

to climb up your leg and inject a lethal toxin at the sign

of any movement sharper or more sudden than

normal breathing or facial expressions. Which means

that, yes, you can blink.”

He was clearly enjoying himself. While he was

speaking, Jim had his gun out, just in case something

went wrong. Ash was already at the safe, and his men

hastened to close the blinds and lock the door. Win

turned the CLOSED sign to face out, then he and Rafe

went to join Ash. Jim looked around the room and,

reassured that the spiders were having their desired

effect, asked, “Who is the highest-ranking bank

employee present?”

There was a silence, then an elderly woman

quavered, “I am.”

Jim went up to her and pointed the gun at her with

one hand. “I know you have simple keys for the safety

deposit boxes,” he said quietly. “Just for situations

like this. Tel me where I can find them.”

“Over behind the main desk,” the woman

whispered. “In the second drawer down.”

“Thank you kindly,” Jim said, and retrieved the keys.

Sometimes, he mused, simple was better.

For having to act on the fly, they were doing wel .

The first level of security had been disabled by the

EMP. The human factor had been disabled by the

spiders and “closing” the bank. The door to the main

vault room was unlocked, as it always was during

business hours. Al that remained to do was to employ

extremely low-level but highly efficient technology and