Balance of Power

THIRTY-EIGHT

Colonel August had leaned to his left in order to get a clear shot at Amadori’s leg. All he managed to get was the top of the general’s foot, but it was enough. Amadori howled through his gas mask and fell against the major general. As he did, the general’s gun discharged. The automatic was still poking out from under the priest’s arm and it pumped several shots in August’s direction. They traced a straight vertical line as the general stumbled back. But the colonel had already jumped to the left while Scott dove to the right. Screaming and covering his ears, the priest had fallen to his knees and remained there with his face between his legs. The bullets pinged off the marble wall but no one was hit.

The two Strikers hit the ground in perfect diving roll-outs, one shoulder connecting with the floor with the head tucked into the chest. The rest of the body followed in a somersault and the men ended up standing, facing in the direction of the dive. They turned quickly toward their targets as the other Strikers fanned into the hallway, making sure that the other soldiers were still on the ground. Private DeVonne emerged on her own, though she was stooped over and in obvious pain from the shot she’d taken.

During the time it had taken August and Scott to roll out, the major general had grabbed Amadori around the chest with one arm. Pulling hard, he helped the general stay on his feet. The two men retreated. As they did, they set up a spray of automatic fire that sent the Strikers dropping to the ground and rolling in all directions for cover. There were screams all around them as several of the Spanish soldiers were struck.

Throughout the exchange, Aideen had remained just inside the Hall of the Halberdiers. She didn’t stay there because she was afraid. She stayed there because she didn’t want to get in the way of the Striker game plan. She also wanted to be free to assist any of the Strikers who might go down. She’d tried to help Sondra into the hallway but the private had insisted that she was all right. For the moment, she probably was. Aideen knew from experience that at least there was one benefit to constant pain, like a broken rib or a nonlethal bullet wound. The mind had the ability to block that pain out, even when it was severe. It was the jab of recurring or steadily increasing pain that was difficult to deal with.

Now, standing beside the jamb, Aideen suddenly had another mission. The wounded Amadori had disappeared around the turn in the corridor to the east. At that moment she was the only team member who was still on her feet. From the western end of the corridor, straight ahead, she heard the distinctive stomp of boots. The smoke was still too thick for her to see that far, but she knew that reinforcements were on the way. The Strikers would have to release more grenades to deal with them. If the soldiers had been alerted by security cameras or by a call from the throne room, they might very well be wearing gas masks. If that were the case, the Strikers would have their hands full just getting out of there. And Colonel August would abort if he felt that the mission had been too severely compromised. In the meantime Amadori might get away.

Someone had to stay with the general, Remote Surveillance System or not. If Aideen kept her distance, Amadori might not spot her. Chances were he’d be watching the cameras ahead of him, not behind him. And keeping her distance until she had a clear shot at the general was doable. There was blood on the floor from the bullet wound in Amadori’s leg. It would provide a trail she could follow easily. And if he stopped to bandage it, that was fine too. Perhaps Aideen would be able to get to him then.

Aideen looked back. The Spanish soldiers were wearing gas masks. August motioned his team back while he and Scott fired and drove the onrushing soldiers running for cover.

Aideen swore. Colonel August was going to call the mission off. But she wasn’t a Striker. She didn’t have to abort anything. This whole thing started when someone was encouraged to shoot at her and Martha Mackall. That seemed a fitting way to end it.

Aideen took a deep breath to still her trembling legs. The air tasted like charcoal through the mask, but she was getting used to that. Rolling off the jamb, she ran into the smoke-filled hallway, and followed the corridor to the east.