Authors: J. Kraft Mitchell
“Then we’ll get a little closer.”
The black car pulled into the bottom level of the garage. Corey got out, and Bradley took the wheel.
“Wait here unless you hear from me,” Corey told him.
“Okay,” said Bradley.
“Okay,” Amber said at the same time. Her voice was shaking a little.
Corey approached the elevator, gun drawn. It was the one loaded with stunners—he kept his other weapon holstered for now. He pushed the button at the elevator. The panel above the doors said the elevator was at the seventh and top level at the moment. That was strange. It started descending.
When it arrived at the ground level and the doors slid open, all Corey saw inside the elevator was a small two-way radio.
“He’s on the seventh level,” Dizzie reported. “That’s not how it’s supposed to work.”
“It never works like it’s supposed to on a mission,” muttered Corey.
“You brought company,” a voice hissed from the radio. “I told you specifically to come alone.”
Corey took the two-way and did his best Mr. Love impression: “I panicked, man! I’ll send ’em away right now.”
“Don’t bother. Just get up here.”
“Fine, fine.”
Corey got on the elevator and started up.
“SOMETHING’S wrong,” Amber whispered nervously.
“Nothing to worry about,” Bradley said blandly.
“He was supposed to be waiting on the elevator.”
“Apparently he’s waiting on one of the upper levels. No big deal.”
“It still doesn’t seem quite right,” muttered Amber.
“Relax,” said Bradley.
“Where is he, Dizzie?” they heard Corey’s voice asking.
“I lost him,” Dizzie’s voice replied. “There are only so many cameras...”
The door next to the elevator opened—the door to the stairwell. A hooded guy walked out. He had a two-way in his hand. Two steps out of the door, he froze. Somewhere in the shadows under his hood, his eyes were locked on Amber and Bradley.
Then he ran—back up the stairs.
“Come on,” Bradley yelled at Amber. “And draw your weapon! Corey, we saw him. He’s in the stairwell.”
“On my way down,” Corey’s voice came in their earpieces.
“We’re headed up,” said Bradley.
“I told you something was wrong!” Amber yelled as they burst into the stairwell.
COREY ran down the switch-back concrete stairs from level seven. At the second landing, a huge 6 was stenciled on the door. He whipped down to level five...level four...
He ran into Bradley and Amber on the level three landing.
“He’s got to be out here,” Corey yelled, leading the way out the door onto the third level of the garage.
They saw the hooded guy disappear around a concrete column beyond the second row of parking spaces.
“I should have brought the car up,” hissed Bradley.
“Looks like Jill had the same idea,” said Amber.
JILL had waited, as instructed, behind a building fifty yards from the garage. She was the safety net of the mission.
It didn’t take long for her presence to be required.
She’d gunned into the air along one side of the garage, seeing the hooded guy running across the empty parking spaces of the third level. She angled her bike over the barrier at the edge of the garage and went after him. Concrete columns whipped by her on both sides.
She was closing in.
He knew she was closing in. He got to the end of the level and heaved himself over the edge...
He caught the barrier at the rim of level two and swung himself back into the garage.
It was only a temporary escape. A moment later Jill had swooped down to level two, right in front of the hooded guy. She parked, leaped off her bike, leveled her gun at him.
That’s when things got interesting.
“ARE you sure they went this way?” Amber asked breathlessly.
“She chased him toward this corner,” said Corey, leading the way as the three of them ran.
They got to the corner. No one was in sight.
Then they heard voices.
“They’re on the level below us,” Bradley said.
“They’re on the level below you,” Dizzie yelled at the same time. “They’re outside the security cameras’ view, but I saw them go by.”
Corey ran to the barrier, leaned out, tried to look down to level two.
Wherever Jill and the hooded guy were was out of sight from here.
“We’ve got to get down there,” Corey ordered.
They didn’t go back to the elevator or the stairs. It was quicker to take the ramp cars used to get between level two and level three.
On their way down they heard the gunshot.
They’d already been running fast; now they ran faster.
IN her cubicle at HQ, Dizzie listened in on the mission. The largest of her monitors had an overhead map of the garage, with blinking lights where the department vehicles and the agents were. The neighboring screens showed the security camera’s shots of the garage.
She heard the gunshot too.
She pulled the microphone of her headset close to her mouth. “Guys? Is everything all right?”
WHEN they got there, the skybike was roaring away. Jill wasn’t on it. Jill was alone in a heap on the cold cement floor.
Corey got to her first.
“I’m all right,” she breathed.
“Thank God,” he whispered.
“Thank God!” Dizzie’s voice sounded in their earpieces.
They helped sit her up and took her helmet off. She looked fine except that her hair was a mess from being tucked into the helmet. She forced a meager smile. “I guess he was a quicker draw than I was,” she said weakly.
“The bullet is lodged in your armor,” said Amber, touching the place where the shoulder plate of Jill’s uniform was sharply indented.
“Did it penetrate?” Corey asked.
“Not sure,” said Jill. “I can’t feel much...”
Amber started unbuckling Jill’s uniform top.
“Man,” moaned Jill, “that’s the second skybike I’ve lost this month.”
“That’s the least of our concerns right now,” said Corey.
“Yeah,” whined Bradley, “this meeting was our only link to Love’s client.”
“Forget the client, Bradley,” shot Amber. “Jill’s hurt!”
“Dizzie,” Bradley was asking into his mouthpiece, “are you tracking Jill’s skybike?”
“Heading west,” said Dizzie.
Bradley stood to move.
Corey grabbed his arm. “Leave it,” he said.
“I’ve got to get the car and head after him,” countered Bradley.
“He’s not dumb enough to stay on the bike for long,” said Corey. “He knows we can track him.”
“Then I’ve got to catch him before he ditches the bike.”
“We’re using the car to bring Jill back to HQ,” Corey said firmly.
Amber had the uniform top off. Jill’s sleeveless shirt exposed the wound. The armor had slowed the bullet, but it had still partially penetrated her shoulder. Jill gritted her teeth and moaned.
“We have a job to do,” said Bradley, jerking his arm away from Corey.
“Some things are more important than the job,” Corey said loudly, standing so his face was inches from Bradley’s as he spoke.
“Bradley Park,” Dizzie’s voice crackled angrily, “you get Jill on that car and you get her back here ASAP, you hear me? The client has already ditched the bike anyway. He abandoned it at the edge of the business park.”
“Now that he’s on foot, we can catch him no problem,” said Bradley.
“He’s not on foot,” said Corey. “He just borrowed Jill’s bike to get back to his own vehicle as quickly as possible.”
“Sherlock can follow him on traffic cams if he stays on main roads—”
“He’s gone, Bradley,” Corey said firmly. “Let it go.”
Bradley didn’t say anything else. He also made no move to get the car.
Jill groaned in pain again.
“I’ll get it myself,” Amber said disgustedly.
“I’m not riding back to HQ while he’s getting away,” said Bradley.
“No, you’re not,” said Corey. “You’re bringing Jill’s skybike back to HQ.”
Bradley frowned. “Fine. You don’t want me around, drop me off at the bike and let me ride home by myself.”
“We’re not dropping you off. It’s not on our way. Take a hike and get it yourself.”
“I don’t know where—”
“Dizzie can guide you,” said Corey. He gave him a long, hard look. “Say, before you head back to HQ, why don’t you look for the client? Now that he’s on foot you should be able to catch him no problem.”
Jill snickered in the middle of another groan.
HER first exposure to the department’s medical facilities should have been a tour. Unfortunately she was here as a patient first. Dizzie insisted on being in the examination room with her. Jill tried to talk her out of it, but she wouldn’t listen. Jill had to admit she was glad she wouldn’t.
A sour-faced, balding fellow by the name of Dr. Gordon studied her shoulder through smudged spectacles. “Superficial wound,” he said with a frown.
Dizzie smiled at her and squeezed her hand. She seemed even more relieved than Jill was.
“I can treat it against infection,” the doctor continued, “but I can’t make it heal any faster. No more missions for you for a while, Miss Branch.”
“I guess I can live without getting shot at again for a few days,” said Jill.
COREY was in the waiting room between the medical facilities and HQ. He put down the magazine he hadn’t been reading, and stood quickly when Jill reappeared. “So?”
“So I get a vacation already,” said Jill.
“She’s fine,” Dizzie interpreted. “Just has to stay home for a while.”
“Wow. I went on like ten missions before I got a vacation. What did I do wrong?”
“I guess you were too careful to dodge bullets,” Jill suggested.
He smiled weakly. “Guess so.”
“Back to your room,” Dizzie said, taking Jill’s arm.
They walked back toward the dorms. Dizzie was acting like Jill’s nurse or mother. Jill was telling Dizzie what she thought about her acting like her nurse or her mother. Corey just watched thoughtfully as they disappeared out the door.
Bradley Park showed up in the waiting room a minute later. “Got the skybike back. It’s a nice machine, let me tell you.”
“She’s fine, thanks for asking,” said Corey.
Bradley just frowned. “What’s with you? You look like something’s bugging you.”
“You are.”
Bradley shrugged. “That’s normal. Something else—something that wasn’t bugging you until recently.”
“Maybe,” said Corey, still looking out the door. He left without another comment.
IT took a lot of reassurance before Dizzie left Jill’s side.
The first moment Jill was alone in her room, she collapsed into her chair and put her head in her hands. She was shaking. It wasn’t just because of the mission, the chase, getting shot. She was shaking for a lot more than that.
Should she tell them? Should she tell someone what really happened out there tonight?
Should she tell someone
everything?
She took the box out of her closet and dug the picture out. Again she looked into her own eleven-year-old eyes.
When she looked up she was staring into the mirror above her dresser.
The girl she saw there wasn’t the same girl in the picture. The girl in the picture was innocent and care-free, hadn’t done the things Jillian Branch had now done...
Her eyes drifted around her room—the room the taxpayers of Anterra were providing for her. She was a government agent, now. She was on the right side of the law.
Or so they said.
She’d tried to believe it. But after what had happened tonight, it was all coming back to her...
She looked at the picture again; in the mirror again; the picture; the mirror.
She didn’t belong here.
There was just one last thing to do. They had to know. The Director had to know what had really happened on the mission...what had really happened before she ever joined the department.
She would write it out; that might be easier than trying to say it out loud. She dug in her drawer until she’d found a pen and a pad of paper.
A certain pad of paper...
Wait a second.
She opened the pad. The first page was still there:
Miss Branch,