And in that instant, Lloyd put a bullet through Kurt Riegel’s chest.
The big German grabbed the wound and then fell to his side. The Steyr bounced away on the hardwood floor.
The Tech screamed in fear.
The Gray Man fired a burst at Lloyd as he disappeared through the doorway to the hall.
—
Court fought a dizzy spell, an inevitable consequence of his dropping blood pressure. He wobbled on his knees, and his eyes glazed over. His brain seemed to reboot, and when his head cleared, he realized he’d lowered the MP5 to his side. Quickly he raised it at the man with the ponytail and the headphones who stood by the desk with the computers. The man had not moved a muscle apart from the quivering in his shaking hands over his head. Gentry realized he could have been knocked down with a feather there for a few seconds. He was glad the man in the ponytail was too terrified to try it.
“Who are you?” Court asked.
“Just... just a technician, sir. I run the comms and whatnot. I have no quarrel with you.”
“At least you didn’t try to tell me you’re the butler.”
“Sir?”
Court crossed the room to the man. On the way, he kepthis weapon trained on the open door to the corridor, and he kicked the Steyr pistol farther away from Riegel’s body as he passed. On the Tech’s desk Court found the classified SAD files. “Is this everything?”
“As far as I know, sir.”
“No backups? No copies?”
“I don’t believe so.”
Court scooped them up and tossed them into the fireplace. He ordered the Tech to set them alight.
Once the files began to burn, the Gray Man turned the technician around and pushed him back down to his seat, facing the equipment in front of him. “You’re the one who communicates with the men hunting me?”
“Oh, no, sir! Not me! I just maintain the elect—”
“Then I guess I don’t need your ass, do I?”
The Tech began nodding quickly. Changed his tune in a single note. “Yes, sir! I am in charge of all communication and coordination between the pavement artists and the government operatives.”
“Good. Call them all. Tell them I just jumped out the window, and I’m escaping through the orchard in the back.”
“Right, away, sir.” The Tech’s hands shook mightily as he flipped switches on his radio console to bring up every radio channel at the same time. “All elements, this is the Tech. Subject has exfiltrated the château. He’s moving to the north, through the orchard on foot.”
“Well done. Now, take off your belt.”
The Tech did as he was told quickly and offered it to the Gray Man.
“Bite down on it hard.”
“Sir?”
“Do it!”
Wide-eyed, the Tech put his belt in his mouth.
“You biting down?” asked Gentry.
The Tech nodded.
“Good.” Court smashed his rifle’s butt into the man’s temple. The Tech started to fall from his chair, but Gentry caught his unconscious head and laid it facedown on the table in front of him. Gentry then fired a full magazine into the computers and radios on the desk.
