The Escape (31 page)

D
IMITRI AND I GOT OFF
the elevator on the tenth floor, while Ritter and Yuan-Xin continued on to the lobby. Stella directed us down and around several connected hallways to a supply closet, which Dimitri unlocked with a universal key card Stella had created for him. Inside, we donned a couple of uniforms from a rack, tucking our weapons wherever we could. Then we grabbed a laundry basket, threw in a few clean sheets and took the service elevator to the sixth floor where we waited for Jace and whoever would be taking Patrick Mann’s order to his room.

Dimitri handed me two small syringes. “In case you need to sedate Mann or if you run into anyone on your way out.”

“Thanks.” I felt jumpy and nervous, but that was normal at the beginning of a maneuver. Once we acted, the emotion would subside. I reached out, purposely absorbing more nutrients though I still felt full from absorbing the energy from Brody. At least the time waiting in the room had given my body the opportunity to heal completely; my skin had finally cooled and I felt comfortable instead of hot.

Minutes ticked by and finally the elevator dinged, opening to reveal Jace and a young male waiter with a cart—and an older man who reeked of Secret Service. Dimitri pushed onto the elevator, and I slid in next to him. The doors started to close.

“Aren’t you getting off here?” the waiter asked Jace. “I thought you pushed the button.”

“Yeah, but I forgot the mop.” Jace made a face. “Someone’s apparently been sick. I don’t want to go back downstairs for supplies. It’s my first day and I don’t want to appear incompetent. They said there’s a supply closet on ten, right?”

The waiter laughed. “Yeah. I don’t envy you. My first day someone had a clogged toilet and guess who had to clean up a bathroom full of crap? Some rich people are absolutely incompetent when it comes to—” He broke off, apparently thinking better of finishing his thought in front of so many witnesses. “They tip well,” he added. “It won’t take long before you move up. As long as you are always on time.”

“Kind of sad when cleaning up vomit is more appealing than washing dishes.” Jace held up his hands. “I think I must have washed every dish in this hotel in the past few hours.”

A smile broke over my face before I could help it, and I was glad everyone, including the Secret Service guy, laughed at the comment. I doubted the dishes would free Jace of Oliver, though, even for a month.

Jace held my gaze for a moment and then looked at the agent. His way of telling me the man was his. Fine. I’d let him have his fun. But he’d better keep his mind focused on his vomit story in case any sensing Unbounded were listening in.

The elevator came to a stop. As the door slid open, Dimitri moved toward the waiter, a syringe in his hand. Jace took a step and shoved his fist into the agent’s face. Both the waiter and the agent crumpled before the door finished opening. I stepped out to make sure the hallway was clear, while the men piled our unconscious friends into the laundry basket and covered their protruding faces with a sheet. Dimitri pushed the basket into the hall.

“Package secured on ten,” I informed everyone through my mic. I didn’t mention the Secret Service agent because it wouldn’t change the plan and might distract everyone from the bland thoughts they were supposed to be projecting.

We headed for the sixteenth floor. I pulled out my Sig, complete with a silencer, and stuck it under the silver dome holding Patrick Mann’s hot bread sticks. Moments later we stood outside his door. I pushed my thoughts into the room, but nothing appeared to have changed.

“They’re going to notice the agent isn’t with the cart,” I told Jace.

“I know.” He knocked at the door and raised his voice. “Room service.”

“Going in,” I told the others. No response.
Radio already isn’t broadcasting,
I mentally told Stella, who was the easiest to reach because of her proximity.
We’re going in.
I stayed with her until she relayed my message to the others.

The door opened and an agent’s gaze flicked over us, suspicion clouding his blue eyes. “Where’s my colleague?”

“Holding the elevator,” I said. “He didn’t want anyone else using it before we’re done here.”

“I’m going to have to verify that.” He took a step toward the hallway, but Jace was already pushing past me, bringing out a tranq gun from somewhere. Before the agent hit the ground, a dart in his neck, Jace kicked out to disarm the second. Meanwhile, I shoved the cart inside and leapt across the room toward the couch where Patrick Mann was still seated, looking casually up from his newspaper.

My gun was in my hand before I knew I’d reached for it. “Get up,
Patrick,
” I said, sneering at the name. “We’re going for a little ride.” Near the door, Jace’s opponent crashed to the ground. “You won’t need your friends,” I added.

Patrick didn’t move, and he was smiling. My first indication that something had gone dreadfully wrong. “So you
did
recognize me the other night,” he said.

“Of course. You’re the vice president’s son.” I moved closer as I spoke. If he didn’t come on his own, I’d jab him with one of Dimitri’s needles and drag him.

“I knew I should have had you detained.” Patrick’s lip lifted in derision.

“We both know you tried. And that went so well for you.”

He waved a hand. “Amateurs. But Delia said it was only a matter of time until you came looking for me. I’ll have to ask her how she knew.”

Movement from the direction of the bedroom caught my eye.
Jace!
I called out silently, as I dived behind the couch.

Two unknown men burst into the sitting room, dressed in full combat gear, sword hilts rising above their backs. An Emporium hit team. They were followed by an oddly dressed shorter man. Despite his disguise of a padded jacket, long dark hair, and decidedly feminine pale blue skinny jeans, I knew him. Delia’s assistant, Lew Roberts, the sensing Unbounded. His shield was as black and thick as before and he was once again shielding his companions, masking them from my mental view. Dimitri had been wrong about the computer-generated shield. They
had
been expecting us.

Bullets flew, the whooshing of the silenced shots sounding deadly and fast. Jace arched as one hit him, even as I pushed out my mental shield to cover his body. The next bullet only pushed him forward as it had with Mari at the Emersons’ townhouse. I didn’t have time to feel relief as I let off a flurry of shots with my own gun.

One of the men leapt toward me. We crashed with a terrific impact that sent both our handguns flying. He reached for his sword. The instinct of Jace’s ability had me rolling to grab one of the end tables near the couch. I tumbled away, bringing it up at the last instant to block the sword as it hurled down toward me.

He slashed again, and I caught the sharp edge of his sword with the table, pushing him off. I heaved the table, flipping it around so the legs went first, hoping to score a blow. In the right place, even a table leg could do serious damage.

“Enough.” A gun jabbed painfully into the side of my head. Patrick Mann. I’d taken my eyes off him too long. “Go get the other one,” Patrick said to my opponent.

“No!” I reached for the image of my machete, slamming it down on the connection between the two hit men and Lew Roberts. The connections severed and calling up my reserves, I flashed light into their minds. The men faltered, but didn’t collapse.

Lew laughed. “Thought you’d try that again. We can’t shield them completely, but you’ll find besting them won’t be so easy this time unless you use a lot more power.”

Jace took advantage of his opponent’s momentary disorientation and slammed a foot into his chest, knocking him against the wall where his head slammed with a sickening thump. Down, but for how long? The other hit man roared in fury and lifted his sword.

I had the satisfaction of watching Jace use a lamp to wrench the sword from the other man’s hand. They began trading punches. Lew raised his own gun and fired, but the shot hit the mental shield I’d erected around my brother and did nothing more than add strength to his last punch.

“Get her out of here,” Lew said to Patrick with a grimace. “Be careful. She might still be armed.”

“But what about—” Patrick began.

“Now. She’s what we need. The other is unimportant. Thurston can take care of himself. Move!”

“Relax. I’m coming.” Patrick shoved me toward the bedroom as I struggled.

I thrust light into his mind, but the black snake absorbed it before it did much damage. Patrick swore and shoved me harder, knocking me to the ground. “Don’t,” he said, spittle falling from his mouth, “do that again.” He yanked me to my feet and pushed me once more toward the bedroom door.

I thought about resisting further. A gunshot to the head wouldn’t kill me, but it would hurt like hell and put me out of commission for at least a day. Not a wise choice if I wanted to escape. And before I did anything, I had to warn Ritter and the others. They might be too far away to help me by the time they got here, but Stella at least might reach Jace in time. She was amazing in combat for a technopath.

Another thought came immediately after.
I’ll discover their full plan and send that to them. My capture won’t be in vain.
Releasing my fury, I followed the urge that had pressed ever harder on me since entering the room. The mental image of my machete appeared inside Patrick’s mind, and I slammed it down on the undulating snake in his thought stream.

An explosion wracked my mind. Images both raced and fluttered past my awareness. My life. Lives I’d only glimpsed from others. All jumbled together in an unintelligible heap. I collapsed under the assault. A tortured keening filled the room. Was that me?

The detailed plans I’d been seeking were right there—I was right about the information being hidden inside his mind—but I couldn’t decipher much of it. Standing in my way was the black image of a robed woman, the edges of her mental outline shining like an eclipse. I knew that outline. Sickness filled my stomach. I had to get out of here!

Patrick’s gun shifted to my leg. “Get up or I’ll give you something to whine about.”

But I couldn’t move. Not a single muscle obeyed my command. I couldn’t even withdraw mentally from his mind.

Lew’s hand stopped Patrick from firing. “Wait,” he said in his nasal voice. “Delia wants you to wait.”

All at once Lew was in my mind, past any barrier I’d erected.
Ha,
he told me.
Delia knew you would be unable to resist that block in his mind after you saw it at the fundraiser. That’s why she added a little something just for you.

A trap! I needed to warn Ritter. Get them out of the hotel before reinforcements arrived, if they weren’t here already.

Oh, you want to reach out to them, do you?
a voice said in my mind.
I can help there.
Horror swept over me. It was a voice that had filled every nightmare since my Change. Delia Vesey, whose life and experience made Dimitri look young by comparison.
How nice of you to accept my invitation,
she added.
I know it was unconventional, but I can’t wait to continue your training.

How was she in my mind? She had to be nearby. Either that or she was coming through Lew, somehow forming a link of communication.

Now let’s tell your friends there’s been a delay.
Delia pushed out with me, finding Ritter easily on the main floor. Her range was greater than mine, and I saw that together we’d be able to extend even further. Ritter hefted a Secret Service agent he was stashing in an unused conference room.

Run!
I wanted to scream.
Get out! Delia’s here.
I pushed the thoughts, but they didn’t make it past my own brain.

Tsk, tsk. No spoiling the fun.

Her enjoyment of my torture was all too apparent. I pushed against her will, and when that failed, I tried to bend around her, to reach Ritter on my own. But each way I turned was met with a shiny impenetrable black barrier.

Slight delay,
Delia put in Ritter’s mind. Not channeling my ability so much as forcing me to do and say what she wanted.
Some annoying hotel guests.
But everything’s a go. We have Patrick Mann.

No!
I moaned, but Ritter didn’t hear.

Delia laughed at my despair.
How long do you think he’ll wait before he realizes you are no longer here? Long enough for me to trap him?
Even as she spoke, she directed Lew to order Patrick to pick me up. In my mind, I fought him, but in real life, I was as immobile in his arms as a sack of flour.

My last view was of Jace blocking his larger opponent’s right hook as the first man he’d knocked unconscious struggled back to his feet.

In the bedroom, the dresser had been shoved aside to reveal a gaping hole. Stella may have been right about the rooms not connecting, but apparently the Emporium agents had made their own door. It was to this that Patrick carried me. Into another suite and through a connecting door to yet a third hotel room.

Lew opened the door to the hallway. “Did you take care of the camera?”

That’s when I noticed Patrick was now wearing something that resembled Stella’s neural headset, only smaller. He nodded. “They have control over the cameras already, but I inserted another feedback loop. By the time they discover it, we’ll be gone. But how am I going to explain this to Secret Service?”

“No need. I’ll come back and clean up the mess, once our reinforcements lock down the hotel. The agents won’t remember a thing.”

That was an awful lot of cleaning up the Emporium was willing to do, but we’d probably do the same if we had an agent posing as the vice president’s son.

Patrick shifted me to his shoulder as they opened a door and headed up some stairs.
The roof,
I thought.
Jace was right about checking out the roof.
Was that the sound of a helicopter?

Delia cursed in my mind.
He didn’t buy it. He’s heading up to the room. Why is he doing that?