“Okay, your choice," Piston rumbles.
Beast loosens the gun in his belt. "Good to go."
I shake my head. "You guys check the front, I want to swing around back and check the situation without alerting them. Itrust you guys to take on a fucking army, but when it comes to sneakiness, I've got the experience."
They nod, not thrilled about it, but we all know it's true. My special training isn't something I really like drawing on anymore, but that doesn't mean I don't still know how to move and kill without being seen. And if these fuckers are threatening Sandra, there's gonna be fucking killing, I can promise that much.
"Someone's watching," Piston says quietly. "I’d bet my life on it. They lured her here for a reason and it’s probably us."
"Even more reason to split up. I'm gonna pretend to leave. You guys look busy with phone calls or figuring something out." They both nod, barely perceptible.
I fire up my bike, wave like I'm leaving and pull out. There's enough traffic still that hopefully the sound of my bike gets lost fast, especially since I'm rolling out slow and easy. As soon as I think it's safe, I park the bike and make my way back on foot, sticking to alleys and the shadows.
I come out behind the shelter, where there's a little bit of park between the blocks on one side, and apartments on the other, only a few feet away from the tall wire fence around the exercise yard. I hope they like dogs over there. That's gotta get fucking loud when the dogs are getting air. But I'm not looking for dogs right now. Instead I search the rooftops, the shadows between the trees, on top of the power station at the edge of the park, anywhere someone might have a good vantage point to see someone entering.
Something moves between the trees.
Jackpot.
I slip from shadow to shadow, getting myself closer. Quiet as death. As I come around behind him, I see the light of a small screen, and in his hand is something that looks like a handle with an antenna.
Motherfucker. It's a detonator. Been a while since I saw one of those, but last time I just barely avoided getting blasted to pieces to be scattered across the desert. Far away and a long time ago, but that's not something you forget. They're planning to fucking blow up the whole shelter.
I slip closer, a ghost in the darkness. He's so absorbed in the screen that he doesn't even look around. Fucking amateur.
Like a predator out of the night, I cover his mouth and cut off his air. My other arm locks around his throat, pulling him in close as I wrench his neck until I hear a sickening snap. I let his limp body drop, grimacing at the nasty memories it brings back.
I pick up his phone. Camera views are tiled across the screen, at least one in every room at the shelter. This guy was waiting for us. Thermal outlines show where the dogs are, and one pointing outside gives me good outlines of Beast, Piston and Jerry. They’re playing their roles, acting like they’re arguing. So far, everything’s going as expected.
Other than the thick arm that encircles my neck and yanks me back.
Driving my elbow backwards, I connect with his side. A choked grunt of pain sounds as he takes a step back and lets go of my neck. Spin, reach, bury my fingers in his hair and with a good yank, I force his face downwards while I kick my knee upwards. The crunch as it connects with his nose feels like success. WhenI let go, he tumbles to the ground and lies still. A quick search reveals nothing useful.
I stick to the shadows a little longer, just in case, but it feels deserted.
The tall fence around the exercise yard isn’t enough to keep me out. I crack the unlocked backdoor carefully, expecting all kinds of potential trouble, but all I get is panting and quiet whines. The dogs sound nervous.
And then, just barely audible, a muffled voice. I wait, giving it a moment, and there it is again. Grunts. Like someone struggling. Gagged? The sounds are too deep to be Sandra, but someone's in there.
I risk pushing the door further, half expecting the whole place to blow up. When nothing happens, I slip inside, silent as the grave. First thing I notice is a gray block of plastic explosive pressed into where the wall meets the floor. Good news is that it's stable stuff, and I have the detonator. The bad news is that there are more blocks after that one. They were fucking ready to launch this shelter to the moon.
That can be cleaned up later.
As my eyes adjust, I find the dogs crammed into cages. Crowded but fine. They watch me curiously, but when I move past they settle. Instead I follow the muffled sounds.
Fuck.
It’s Carl. Strapped to a chair, using dog leads for rope. Big strip of duct tape over his mouth and two smaller strips covering his eyes. There’s even a block of C4 molded to the seat right in frontof the poor kid's crotch. If we’d let those guys catch us coming in, Carl would’ve been in so many little pieces.
Blinded, Carl only knows that someone’s moving around him, and his breathing goes hyperactive immediately.
"Easy, Carl. I'm a friend." I start by peeling off the tape over his eyes. The stare behind them is wild, and he doesn't look real good. "If I take the tape off your mouth, can you be quiet? We're gonna get you out of here."
For a moment longer, I'm not sure if I'm getting through to him, but then he nods. A soft mumble, and another nod.
"Good boy. Okay, this is gonna sting a little." I grip the edge of the tape and rip it off in one quick motion.
"Ow! Shit." He twitches like he wants to put a hand to his mouth, but he can't until I untie him.
