Age of Blood

46

Yank was thrilled to get his equipment back. Going into battle with only a pistol and a knife made him feel like a samurai attacking Godzilla, especially in light of recent events. Without their weapons and equipment, defeating the homunculi wouldn’t have been so easy. Likewise, the QuadEye and the HKs had contributed significantly to their complete domination of the crazy leper people. Their ability to communicate and attack in a synchronized fashion was integral to their success. He’d always believed that if the Crips, Bloods, or MS-13 of his hometown Los Angeles had even a modicum of SEAL training, they would have taken over L.A. long ago, instead of firing from car windows like overgrown Shriners in spoke-wheeled clown cars.

Downstairs they’d found all of their gear, plus some appreciated ammunition and pyrotechnics courtesy of GAFE. The Pelican cases of computer gear were brought up first so the techies could begin their search for the mystery vehicle Holmes believed YaYa had taken. Personally, Yank felt it was an incredible leap in reason to assume that YaYa had stolen a car. He just as easily could have had an accomplice. Didn’t they say there’d been a phone call right before YaYa had begun acting strangely?

Yank felt a surge of goose flesh flow over his arms. If the call had “activated” YaYa then they had a chance of targeting whoever was controlling him. Even money was on Ramon, but Yank wasn’t so sure. Ramon was a werewolf or skinwalker. Did he really have the power to control someone over the phone? It just didn’t feel right.

So then who?

They’d been back and forth from Room 333 to their own on the seventh floor three times. On the way back down, the elevator stopped on the fifth floor. A white family with a little boy and a little girl stepped into the car. Behind them came two Hispanic men, both dressed in suits. Yank looked for it and saw the bulge of a weapon underneath the left arm of each of them. They stepped aboard but didn’t make eye contact. Yank let his gaze slide to the floor, and searched for a bulge at the ankle. The taller of the two had one, but the other man didn’t.

Yank exchanged a quick glance with Walker. He’d seen the same thing.

Yank and Walker were back against the rear of the car. The family was probably getting off in the lobby, starting a day with coffee, juice, and cinnamon churros in the plaza. Yank had already depressed the button for three. Now he wished he hadn’t. Whatever was going on, they didn’t want to show these people the location of their weapons cache.

So when the car stopped, the control panel dinged, and the door opened, he and Walker remained motionless. For a few uncomfortable moments, no one moved. Then the blond-haired little boy turned around and stared at Yank. The kid seemed about to say something, when his father turned him around and hugged him to his side.

The door closed. Yank glanced up and saw that the taller of the two men was looking at him. Yank gave him a gentle smile, even though he felt anything but gentle on the inside, then resumed staring into space, all the while keeping everyone within his peripheral vision.

The car began to descend. When it reached the lobby, one of two things would happen. Everyone would get out or the two men would keep Yank and Walker from leaving. Yank’s fingers itched to pull the knife from his right cargo pocket. In close quarters, it was the perfect weapon.

Yank let his gaze stray toward the shorter of the two men. The haircut didn’t have the spit and polish of an American agent. For that matter, neither did the suit. On closer inspection, it was ill-fitting and looked more like what an insurance agent would wear rather than a businessman.

The ding of the elevator was followed by the door opening onto a bustling lobby. First the family got out, then the two men, then Yank and Walker. To stay would bring more attention to them than they needed. The men went straight to the counter. Yank made for the restaurant. Walker followed close behind.

As Yank moved through the crowd, he became aware of how unlike everyone else he and Walker were dressed. Had they paid attention, they wouldn’t have left the room looking like road-worn military contractors, the modern mercenary, or tactical Mormon missionaries. With their military haircuts, boots, tactical cargo pants, and sweat-stained T-shirts tight over well-muscled chests, they looked like anything but tourists. What they needed to blend in were shorts and flip-flops. Realizing that they were being noticed by several people of unknown origin, Yank opened the door to the stairs and they ran up the three flights.

Thirty seconds later they were in Room 333.

“Who were they?” Walker asked.

“Don’t know.” Yank put the privacy chain on the door, then ran over to check the lock on the sliding glass door that led to the balcony. “One thing is for sure, though. We shouldn’t be seen out in public unless we have a change of clothes.”

Walker looked at the equipment spread over the two beds in the small room. “And we shouldn’t leave this room unguarded. The last thing we need is a maid coming in, or worse. I’ll take the first shift. Why don’t you go up and tell Holmes.”

“I’m sure he’ll concur.”

“Maybe see if someone can’t go out and buy us some clothes.”

“Good idea, but that might depend on the plan.”

“You mean Holmes’s plan?”

“None other.”

“A little light on details, though, wasn’t it?”

Yank grinned. “It’ll come together. I’m pretty damn sure of it.”