Black Sun Rising

Chapter Thirty

Sara's lovely face contorted into a snarl. "Go find out if that's genuine!" she snapped at the acolyte, and then turned her gaze to Nina. "You don't mind if we break up your little hostage situation, right? You want to know too?"

The acolyte pushed past, forcing Nina to relax her grip a little to avoid cutting Jefferson's throat by accident. Nevertheless, she did not let him go. "Jefferson, you need to give those things to me," she growled.

"Nina," Jefferson spoke through gritted teeth, trying not to move. "You can't stop this. It's important. It needs to happen. Just accept—"

"Jefferson, just fucking listen to me. I really don't want to hurt you, but I swear I will. Give them to me now."

"Jefferson," Sara's voice was soft and dangerous. She rose from her seat, pulling herself up to her full height and gliding like a snake across the floor. Nina deliberately repositioned the knife, drawing Sara's attention to the way the point was pricking at Jefferson's jugular. "Listen to me. These people are trying to destroy everything we've built. We can't allow that. There's no price too high, you know that. You know that."

Nina forced her hand to stay steady. It was trying to shake, wanting nothing more than to let Jefferson go. I can't do this, she thought. They're going to call my bluff. They know I'm not going to cut his throat. All they have to do is wait because in a moment or two we're going to have to get out of the building and I'm going to—

A flash of movement behind Sara caught Nina's eye. Purdue was on his feet, his hands closing on the sides of Sara's head. Swiftly, elegantly, he delivered a sharp twist. The crack brought the bile up in Nina's throat. She flinched, letting go of Jefferson.

Before Sara's body had hit the floor, Purdue reached out and pulled the keys from Jefferson's hand. He grabbed Nina and hustled her out of the room, leaving Jefferson behind. The last thing she saw as the door closed behind them was Jefferson dropping to his knees, calling Sara's name.

In the dingy stairwell, Sam and Julia Rose crouched and waited. They could hear the fire alarm and the sound of people beginning to make their way down the brightly lit, guest-friendly stairs above. "We should stay down here in the staff area until there's a bit of a crowd in the lobby," Sam suggested. "No sense in moving too soon and making ourselves too visible."

When they judged that the evacuation was well underway and they would have sufficient cover as they left the building, they crept to the top of the "Staff Only" stairs and joined the flow of guests into the lobby. The receptionists were out from behind their desks and directing people out of the building, uttering calm reassurances that although this was not a drill, the fire department was on its way and that everything was under control. If only they knew how untrue that is, Sam thought.

"Excuse me," he called, collaring one of the receptionists. "I'm just a bit worried — I left my friends in their room and I think, er… One of them is injured, she's got a bad ankle, and I'm concerned in case she—"

"It's ok, sir," the receptionist smiled back, continuing to wave people past. "We have fire marshals who will do a sweep of each floor. They'll check each room. We won't leave your friends behind. Now I'm going to have to ask you to step outside."

Countless bodies surged past Sam, carrying him along in their wake. It was all he could do to keep sight of Julia Rose. The jostling crowd half-dragged him out of the Verbena and across the street. It occurred to Sam to look in the direction from which the flashing blue lights had come earlier, to see whether there genuinely had been an incident. Sure enough, there was a police car — though whether it had been there for some time or was newly arrived, it was impossible to tell.

Sam bobbed about in the mass of people, holding his head as high as he could, scanning the crowd for Nina and Purdue, and keeping a lookout for Sara or the acolyte or anyone else who would give him reason to run. What are we going to do now? he asked himself. The hotel staff will find the dead acolyte. They're bound to notice that Nina and Purdue are both hurt. God only knows what's been going on up in that room. I've no idea whether they ever got those keys. And now we've set fire to the hotel, and I'm just hoping Nina and Purdue will get out alive and that I'll have figured something out by the time they do. And what about Julia Rose? What am I going to do about her?

Up on the fourth floor, Nina pulled Purdue's good arm around her shoulder and moved as fast as his stab wound and her limp would allow them to go.

"You're never going to manage the stairs in that state," Nina muttered, looking at the laceration. She half-helped, half-dragged him toward the elevators and hit the call button. "We're in luck," she said, as she heard the mechanism working. "They're still functioning." Purdue managed nothing more than a weak smile in response.

The doors slid open and they stepped into the bubble of glass. The elevator that had arrived first was the one that faced out over the street, offering a view of the Las Vegas Strip, the distant desert, and the crowd on the road below. That's good, Nina thought, we're in clear view of everyone, we'll be safe. I'm sure we will.

With stomach-churning speed, they descended. Nina hauled Purdue into position, ready to get him into the lobby and to the comparative safety of the crowd. The bell pinged and the sleek white doors opened, revealing a corridor instead of the lobby. Sara's acolyte was standing with a gun in his hand.

"Nina!" The cry was out of Sam's mouth before he even realized it. High above him he could see Nina and Purdue being held hostage by the acolyte in the glass elevator. The distance was too great for him to see the gun, but the angle of the acolyte's arm told him everything he needed to know. The next thing he knew was that his feet were slamming against the road, carrying him back into the hotel, barging his way past the staff who tried to stop him.

He reached the elevator doors just as they parted. Nina and Purdue were on the other side, about to be marched out, but Sam seized hold of both of them and hauled them out. The acolyte gave a yell and lunged forward but Sam hurled himself forward, putting his whole weight into it, and shoved the young man back against the glass.

"Go!" Sam yelled at Nina. Still pinning the dazed acolyte to the glass with one hand, he reached out with the other and hit the control panel, aiming for the highest floor he could. The doors closed. Sam felt his stomach drop as the ground fell away beneath them.

This is it, Sam thought, this is going to be the last thing I see. A man whose name I don't even know, silhouetted against the night sky and the bright lights of Vegas. I'm about to get shot in the face. Just like Trish.

The handful of steps from the elevators to the door felt like miles to Nina. Adrenaline was preventing her from feeling the pain in her ankle too severely, but she was fully aware of the weight of Purdue slumped on her shoulder. He was trying his best to support himself, but the loss of blood was making him weaker by the minute.

"Just a few more steps, Dave," she encouraged him. "We're nearly out."

Cool night air surrounded them, welcome and refreshing. No sooner had they got out of the building than Julia Rose ran over and helped support Purdue. They slumped down on the nearest empty stretch of pavement, and Purdue immediately pulled out the tablet and began to unfold it.

"There's no time to lose," he said softly. "Nina, hold these for a moment."

He passed her the three keys while he pecked and pinched his way through his own security. His slender fingers flew at lightning speed.

"Julia Rose," Nina said, "you're the one with no injuries yet, so we need you to go and find us a cab. We'll get you out of here safely, but we need transport. The first one you see, bring it here. Tell the driver we'll pay ten times his normal rate in exchange for no questions asked." Julia Rose, eager to be far away from the Verbena, did not need to be told twice.

"I have it," Purdue whispered. "Now, the keys!" One by one Nina handed him the keys and watched as he deftly slid the thin connector into the barely perceptible ports on the tablet. As soon as the third one was in, it flashed a code — too briefly, Nina was sure, for anyone to memorize it.

But she had underestimated Purdue. He retyped the code as quickly and accurately as if he had been typing it every day for years, and then waited with bated breath for a response from the servers.

"It's done!" he cried, and began to raise his arms in a gesture of victory before the pain reminded him that he could not. He caught his breath as the pang of agony hit, but it did not take the smile off his face. "It's done, Nina," he planted a sudden, celebratory kiss on her lips. "The servers are cleared. Now all we have to do is—"

Overhead, there came an ear-splitting crash. Purdue paused in mid-sentence. He and Nina turned their gaze upward, toward the source of the sound, to watch what was happening to Sam.

The barrel of the gun drew level with Sam's eye. There was to be no mistake, no room for error. This would be execution style at point-blank range, hopefully painless and mercifully quick. Sam refused to close his eyes.

He was not even aware of the impulse to move his foot. The acolyte had doubled up in pain before Sam even realized that he had kicked him. Instinctively he ducked, hearing the bullet whistle past his head. It struck the doors and ricocheted, hitting the corner of one of the glass panels. Fractures streaked across the exterior surface of the lift.

Seeing the gun on the floor, Sam shoved it away and sent it spinning into the corner, as far as it could go from the acolyte. Despite their adventures with the drones, he was not convinced that he could shoot a man so close using a pistol. He'd be on me in the time it took for me to aim, he thought.

The bell sounded and the doors opened to reveal the thirty-seventh floor. I was hoping that by the time we got here I'd be in a position to kick him out and go straight back down, Sam cursed his luck. But I'm between him and the door, and I don't want to risk letting him get near the gun again. Maybe I can negotiate with him. Perhaps if I can buy us some time… He hit the panel again, sending the elevator gliding down toward the ground, but this time his clumsy hands caught the neighboring panel too. A section of white plastic fell away, displaying a bright red fire extinguisher underneath. Perfect! Sam thought. A blunt instrument. That'll do me a lot more good than the gun!

By now the acolyte had recovered enough to stand up — or at least to reach a painful approximation to standing. He took a swing at Sam, who dodged and started babbling, trying to persuade the acolyte that there must be a way that they could reason things out.

The acolyte's fist pulled back, ready to land a blow on Sam that would break his jaw. Trapped in a corner, too tightly hemmed in to duck, Sam hoisted the fire extinguisher in front of him for some protection. The ring that sealed the extinguisher dangled before his face. He grabbed hold of it and pulled hard.

The extinguisher nearly leaped out of Sam's hands, but he got it under control and turned the fierce spray on the acolyte. It hit the young man square in the face, hurling him backward. He slammed into the damaged glass with the full weight of his body.

In sickeningly slow motion Sam saw the fractures grow in the glass. One broken section parted company with another, sending shards of glass tumbling down to the street below like partly thawed icicles. He saw the acolyte's face become a mask of horror as he realized that the material that had been supporting him was gone. Gravity pulled him gently out of the damaged elevator. He flailed, his hands seeking anything on which they could gain purchase, but they found only broken glass. His arms described one final, despairing circle as he fell, spattering Sam with a thin mist of blood from his lacerated fingers. Sam did not hear the acolyte hitting the ground, but the reaction from the hotel guests assembled outside made it clear that he had — and that his end had been messy.

Curled in the corner of the destroyed elevator, Sam waited to reach the ground. The seconds felt like hours.

"Right there!" Nina yelled. "Stop right there, we need to get that man into the cab."

"You sure are lucky they ain't closed this street yet, lady," the cab driver remained surly, even despite the promise of a large payout. He did, however, comply with Nina's request and pull up right outside the doors to the Verbena, where Sam was staggering out.

One of the receptionists had run up to him and was attempting to steer him toward the ambulances that had arrived, but when Sam saw Nina open the door to the cab and beckon him inside, he pushed the receptionist away and dived in. He collapsed into the back seat next to Purdue.

"Where are we going?" he asked.

"North Vegas airstrip," Purdue replied, his voice little more than a croak. He pointed to the tablet. "I will have someone waiting. We can get somewhere safe."

"We're not going home?"

"We can't, Sam," said Nina, "not yet, at any rate. These people are dangerous, we've seen that. If Dave's got somewhere safe where we can hole up for a while, at least until our wounds have healed, we have to go there. We can figure out whether there's any lasting danger and plan our next move."

It was the right decision, Sam knew — the practical decision, the safe decision. But suddenly his heart ached for home and he wanted nothing more than to be back in his flat in Edinburgh, complaining about the heat and being woken in the night by Bruichladdich.

He turned to Julia Rose. "I'm sorry," he said. "I should never have let you come along. Look where it's got you."

"You couldn't have stopped me," she said. "Besides, I'm not going with you. Mr. Purdue just used that thing of his to wire me some cash, just like he's doing for the cab driver, so I've got enough to get home. He said it's enough to cover replacing my car, too — well, I don't think I'm gonna get it back now, do you? I'm going to hide out back in Minneapolis for a while. Pretend all this never happened."

She fell silent and turned her face away, signaling the end of the conversation. The dark glass reflected her face just enough for Sam to be sure that she looked considerably more frightened than she sounded. There's no point in arguing with her, he thought. If she doesn't want to go into hiding, we can't make her. She'll probably be safest far away from us anyway.

Sam's head was still buzzing with questions and adrenaline by the time they arrived at the airport. Purdue greeted his personal pilot, Gary, and silenced his concerns about the suddenness and irregularity of their trip with promises of obscene amounts of money. Gary took one look at Sam and Nina, looking as torn as his employer and shook his head. With a weak wave of acknowledgment they greeted him. Gary was thankful he was not involved in this pursuit of Purdue's, as he was last time when he almost did not get away alive.

While Gary introduced them to the only medic he had been able to acquire at such short notice, Sam said goodbye to Julia Rose. He waved until the cab was out of sight, bound for McCarran International in Las Vegas, and then followed Nina and Purdue up the steps into the charter jet.

Purdue was already stretched out in a reclining chair with the EMT tending to his wound, while Nina had collapsed into the nearest seat and was staring catatonically at the back of the seat in front.

Without a word, Sam dropped into the seat beside her. The engines roared to life. Automatically, he held out his hand for her to grasp during takeoff. She took it.

"This is going to take a hell of a lot of sorting out," he sighed.

The plane thundered along the runway, then soared upward, carrying Sam, Nina, and Purdue away from the horrors of the desert, into an uncertain future.