Conspiracy Game

CHAPTER 16

The window beside Briony’s head shattered, spraying glass all over her. Something hit the floor just as a second and third window shattered. Jack rolled Briony off the bed onto the floor, covering her body with his own as smoke poured into the room from the canister bouncing and rattling on the floor.

Ken!

I’m on it.

Don’t breathe, Briony, keep your eyes closed tight. Don’t take a breath. If you get in trouble, let me know, I’ll help you.

How do they keep finding me? I don’t understand. They shouldn’t have been able to find me.

Don’t panic, baby. We knew they’d come eventually. It’s no big deal.

Jack was so calm. She squeezed her eyes closed and held her breath, wishing she’d managed to take a gulp of air as she hit the floor. She wanted to reach for him, cling, but she heard him moving with purpose around the room.

What are you doing?

We’ll need your clothes, the baby book, a few things. He pushed jeans and a shirt into her hands and pressed her shoes close before shrugging into his own clothes.

The baby book? We’re under attack and you’re calmly packing up the baby book? Jack, you’re nuts! We need weapons.

I’ve got weapons stashed; we’ll be fine. Jack sounded every bit as calm as he acted. Just stay put and keep your eyes closed. Ken? Where the hell are you?

They’re breaking in through the living room. Send Briony into the tunnel.

Jack stuffed the last of the clothes into the backpack and shoved the rug out of the way to lift a trapdoor with a smooth, practiced motion. There was nothing hurried about his deliberate movements. He tapped Briony’s shoulder.

Three steps to the trapdoor and then you’re going to jump straight down. I know you can’t see where you’re landing, but trust me, it’s safe. You can open your eyes once you’re in the tunnel; no gas there yet. When you hit the floor, follow the tunnel. Ken will meet you.

He held her right at the edge of the hole, letting her feel empty space with her foot. She felt his mouth touch her neck, a brush of his lips, and it felt too much like good-bye. Wait! Aren’t you coming with me? Jack, come with me.

He ignored the fear and desperation in her voice. I’ll be there soon. Go, baby. Do what I say. He pulled her tighter against him and kissed her mouth, holding her close. Get out of here before we run out of time.

Briony wavered and Jack dropped her into the darkness. Jack! Her startled protest was more shocked than anything else as she landed in a crouch, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the darkness.

Get the hell out of here, baby. I’ve got work to do.

Stay alive, Jack. For me. You stay alive.

Jack’s heart twisted in his chest at the worry in her voice, the love that washed through him. He couldn’t afford to think about anything but the enemy, and she was turning him inside out. He yanked on night vision goggles and calmly slung a rifle around his neck, tucking two handguns into his belt and adding clips of ammo to the loops. He covered the trapdoor and replaced the rug before stepping to one side of the broken window. Shadows flitted through the trees, surrounding the house. The strobes in his room and probably in Ken’s began flashing as the alarms were tripped. Someone had used the tree branches to get close enough to fire the canisters of gas through the windows, and that told Jack that at least some of the soldiers were enhanced.

He lobbed two smoke bombs into the yard, one right after the other, and followed them out, leaping onto the rail and grasping the edge of the roof to somersault up. The moment his feet touched, he knew he wasn’t alone. He smelled sweat, heard air rushing eagerly through lungs-and he spun toward the sound, firing quickly, blindly, relying solely on his enhanced senses. As he pulled the trigger, he moved fast, a blur of speed across the rooftop, making his way toward the wide chimney, the only possible cover.

The enemy returned fire, ribbons of color streaking in the darkness. Jack dove for the chimney, rolling partway and flattening his body as best he could while he lay still, allowing the shadows to absorb him. He waited, listening, inhaling to track his enemy by sweat and smell, body heat, whatever worked.

Smoke drifted over the house and into the canopy of the trees. Along the ground the smoke rolled in strange shapes, so that the trunks of the trees seemed to emerge out of dark, turbulent clouds. He heard shuffling, the sound of boots running through his home, voices reporting into radios-but not the sounds he needed to hear. He smelled sweat and fear and excitement along with the chemicals of gas and smoke-but couldn’t find the scents he needed to tell him where his opponents were. The rest didn’t matter yet. He had to take out the enhanced soldiers first, and they were trained enough to keep still and try to wait him out.

Ken would be returning as soon as Briony was safe, and he would run into a buzz saw if Jack didn’t get the job done. The hell with it; the soldiers knew exactly where he was. Let them come for him. He lay flat, fitting his rifle with care, scope to his eye and sighting a soldier working his way through the woods, moving bush to bush, tree to tree. Jack squeezed the trigger and sighted the next target.

A hail of bullets fell all around him and he kept his head down. The whisper of movement on the roof tipped him off, and he drew his handgun and fired off three rounds toward the sound.

Talk to me, Jack, Ken demanded.

A curse told him he’d scored a minor hit-still, it was a hit. Whitney must have wanted these yahoos dead, he informed his twin as he calmly turned back to his original target. And they’re fuckin’ idiots for coming after us. They know who we are and their egos are going to get them killed. I can smell the blood on one of them now. He’s a dead man if he’s stupid enough to move. Again he squeezed the trigger, watching his target slump to the ground. And why would Whitney send these infants after us? It’s like picking off ducks in a pond.

Just don’t let your ego get you killed, Ken warned.

Two soldiers on the ground opened fire on Jack, but Ken had designed the roof to make it difficult to get a clear shot from the ground. Jack took out both shooters, then set the rifle down, picked up the handgun, rolled out to his left, toward the smell of blood, and fired three shots in rapid succession again, before rolling back to cover just as efficiently. He and Ken had practiced the moves on the roof hundreds of times. He knew every square inch of it, every depression, every place an enemy might think he was safe.

One enhanced down, Ken, Jack said. There’s no way I missed. I shot him between the eyes just in case he was wearing body armor. They can get the hell off our property or die here. It’s their choice. Doesn’t much matter to me.

You’re a mean son of a bitch, bro, Ken informed him. You recognize the enhanced soldier? I’d kind of like to know who our enemy is.

Didn’t see him, shot by smell. He’s dead, though, heard him drop, and that was a dead man hitting our roof.

Not the roof. Damn it, Jack. I’m not hauling his dead ass down; you can clean up your own mess.

What the hell did you want me to do? Jack fit the scope to his eye again.

Wait until he stood up near the edge of the roof and shoot him so he falls over. Is that too much to ask?

Jack lifted his eye away from the scope, a small, humorless smile escaping. They had always talked to each other, years ago, as children, long before the death of their mother, using banter to get through the scary moments when their father was home and searching the house for them. Later, it was the same in the numerous foster homes, and then on the street. The habit never left them, the reassuring touch of mind to mind, to know the other still lived, still breathed, that no monster had managed to swallow him.

You’re such a damned wimp, always wanting the easy way out. You can drag his ass off the roof. It’s a good workout for you. And quit messing around and get back here. I’m a little outnumbered.

“Give me a gun, Ken,” Briony demanded as she raced toward him. “Jack didn’t make it into the tunnel.”

“Relax, hon; he had no intention of coming into the tunnel. He’ll meet up with us near the mine. He’ll hold them off, give us a chance to get out just in case they decide to torch the house.”

Briony skidded to a halt, sucking in her breath. “You planned this? Without saying anything to me? Why would you let him risk his life that way, Ken?”

“Jack is Jack, Briony. There’s no arguing with him in certain situations, and this is one of them. If he had to, he’d knock you out and have me haul your ass to safety. That’s how serious he is when it comes to your life-and mine.”

“They might kill him. If we help… ”

“We’d distract him. He’s not going to let you near those men, so forget about trying to help him and get moving.”

“Ken, I know you’re a marksman-so am I. I just can’t leave him to fight off however many enhanced soldiers Whitney sent.” She could barely breathe with the thought of Jack in danger. She began to edge away from Ken and back toward the ladder.

“Get over here now, Briony.” His voice hardened unexpectedly, his easygoing façade fading away, to be replaced by the same commanding tone Jack used. “He entrusted me with your life and I take that seriously. You’re carrying his children. Get your ass over here and stop thinking with your heart.”

“This isn’t right,” Briony protested, reluctantly making her way to his side. He looked capable of throwing her over his shoulder like the proverbial caveman. It occurred to her that Ken was every bit as dominant as his twin-he just hid it better.

“Right or not, get moving.” His voice softened even as he gave her a little push. “Right now, everyone Jack comes into contact with is the enemy. He doesn’t have to worry about shooting either of us. He’ll take out as many as possible and disappear.”

“They’re enhanced.”

“So is he, and I’m betting he has far more combat experience than all of them combined. Keep moving straight ahead. Double-time it.”

Briony pressed a hand over her lurching stomach. She’d come to Jack for protection, to protect her baby-babies-but she hadn’t counted on falling in love. She was torn between wanting to keep the unborn children safe and rushing back to help watch Jack’s back. “You should be with him, Ken. You’re always with him. You fight together.”

“I’ll stash you in a safe place and then I’ll join him. But I have to know you’re going to stay put, Briony. No heroics.”

“I’m not stupid, Ken. And I can take care of myself if I have to.”

“Which is why you showed up with bruises and a cut down your arm. Some man does that to you now, and Jack will rip his heart out-or I will. No one touches you, Briony. You fight only as a last resort.”

“I promise, Ken. I’m not looking to lose the babies, or get taken by these maniacs.”

The tunnel began to curve upward, and Briony sprinted, wanting Ken to get back to Jack as soon as possible. “Give me a gun and several clips of ammo if you have it to spare,” she called over her shoulder. “I’m a good shot, Ken.”

“We have a weapons stash in the mine, here in the tunnel, and out in the shop, as well as the house. If anything happens, get to a man named Logan Maxwell or Kadan Montague. You can trust either of them. Don’t go near your family; they’ll be watched.”

She rounded a corner and skidded to a halt. There was a dead end. “How do we get out?”

Ken indicated straight overhead. “Trapdoor. We open it up there. Anyone coming in and not knowing how to get out is trapped. They aren’t going to get us on our home turf, hon.” He handed her the rifle and leapt up to catch a ring painted black to blend in with the darkness. He inverted, planting his feet on either side of the trapdoor and, using toe rings to brace his body, he heaved upward.

Briony realized only an enhanced person could move the door, another guard in place for the brothers. “If they do follow us into the tunnel, they might not be able to find the door,” she said aloud.

“They’ll die if they come in the tunnel. Each section has an activation switch with very precisely directed blasts. Don’t go back in there for any reason until we deactivate the security.”

“This place is a death trap.”

“For anyone coming after us or ours,” he agreed. “Can you make it out, or do you want a hand?”

“That’s an insult.” She leapt up, caught the lip of the doorjamb, and inverted easily, pushing through with her feet and shoving to launch herself out the opening. She did a flip and landed nearly at his feet.

“Show off. I’m carrying the pack.”

Briony looked around her. They were in deep forest, some distance from the house, but she could hear shots being fired. “I’m afraid to distract him even to make certain he’s safe.”

“He’s safe. Worry about the other guy. If this is some kind of test for his soldiers, Whitney must have more than we thought, because these must be expendable.”

“Do you think he guessed that I was here?”

Ken frowned as he shook his head. “Whitney has access to our complete files. He has high security clearance. He’d never send men against us to get killed unless he was certain. Even if they planted a camera on Brady, he was treated the way he’s always treated and sent on his way. He never got close to the house-or to you. They couldn’t have known that way.”

“But they knew, didn’t they?”

Something quiet in her voice alerted him, and he stopped in the act of concealing the trapdoor to look at her sharply. “Whatever you’re thinking-don’t. You aren’t putting us in any more danger than we’re normally in.”

“Yes, because you have enhanced soldiers coming after you all the time. These are military men. We can’t tell the good guys from the bad. For all we know, Ken, some of them are soldiers thinking they’re doing a job their commander sent them on. We have no idea what they’ve been told.”

“Whitney isn’t going to chance letting someone else acquire you. These are his men. He may have gotten military equipment using his clearances, and no doubt someone, an admiral, a general, maybe the senator I pulled out of the Congo, is helping him, but these are definitely his men. Don’t do anything stupid, Briony, like try to leave. It wouldn’t be heroic-it would be the dumbest thing you could do. Jack would come after you. You know him now. He’s not going to let you go.”

“I’m going to get you both killed.”

“Have a little faith, woman. And think about my nephews. I’ll be damned if they’re raised in a laboratory.”

Briony turned away from him, into the deeper forest, hurrying along the faint animal trail in the direction Ken indicated, but her mind was working furiously. She had come to them with nothing. Jack had even insisted she get rid of her clothes. She touched her earlobes and felt the rubies-not her mother’s diamonds. Everything had been left behind. So how were they tracking her so easily?

“Shift to your right. I want you to walk along the boulders. The original mining camp is still here along with the original cabin. We’ve never actually done any mining, but we went through it to make certain it was safe and it’s a good place for you to wait for us. You can guard the entrance; no one can sneak up on you from behind, and anyone trying to come in is going to be a large target. I’ll get rid of the tracks leading to the mine and make a few branching off from the trail so anyone tracking us will head in the wrong direction. The stream winds through the property along here for a good four miles.”

Briony glanced at him sharply.

Ken sent her a reassuring smile. “I like to cover all of the bases. If by some miracle Whitney’s soldiers get lucky, you need a route out of here.”

“If you’re not coming back to get me, I’ll be looking for you,” Briony said. “I mean it, Ken. I could help.”

“You can help by staying put so we don’t have to worry about you.”

Where the hell are you? You’d think this was a tea party.

As a matter of fact, Briony and I were just pouring a cup. You can handle it, Jack. I’m still a little sleepy.

“Just up ahead is the shack. See the bushes just to your right, Briony? Behind them is the entrance to the mine. I’ll check it just to be certain.” He handed her a gun and several clips. “Just don’t shoot me.” Ken slid the pack to the ground and motioned her to stand aside.

Briony watched him disappear into the thick shrubbery. All around her leaves were turning red and gold. Deep colors of vibrant green carpeted the ground and adorned the trees towering above her. A gentle breeze brought the first lights of day streaking across the sky. It was beautiful-breathtaking, hardly a day for anyone to die.

Both Ken and Jack exuded confidence and spilled it over to her. She was afraid, but it wasn’t the heart-pounding, gut-wrenching fear she normally experienced. Both of the Nortons were men who knew themselves and their capabilities-and were ready to do whatever was necessary-but most of all they were utterly calm in a crisis. And more than all of that-she didn’t experience a single consequence of witnessing violence. There was no pain stabbing through her head, making her so ill she could barely breathe. With Jack and Ken close by, she could handle even a full-scale assault.

Ken returned to lead her into a clearing, past a shack to the mine itself. It was old, but solid. Briony stood just inside the entrance. “If I have to go back into it to hide, how do I find my way out?”

“It’s not a huge labyrinth like a lot of mines. It has two tunnels. Either has an exit. The left tunnel is your best bet; it comes out in heavy wood, so more cover. You’re good, hon. One of us will come for you. If we don’t warn you ahead of time, shoot anything coming your way.” He handed her the pack with her clothes. “I’ve got to get rid of the tracks and go help my idiot of a brother. He might go psycho on us and I’d have a hell of a mess to clean up.”

Briony nodded, managing a small smile. “Stay safe, Ken.”

Ken leaned in to hug her, in a clumsy attempt to reassure her, and then shouldered his rifle and sprinted back toward the house.

Jack was surrounded, trying to pick off the soldiers one by one, but he was pinned down by the second enhanced soldier. Ken hurried as he wiped out the tracks leading from the mine back to the tunnel. I’m on my way. Don’t shoot me.

Go up, Ken. Get the son of a bitch off my back. Whitney can’t afford to lose too many of his enhanced soldiers. He might be able to enhance some of them physically, but you have to start with some psychic ability before you can strengthen it.

I’ve got a few soldiers between us.

Even as he sent the thought to Jack, a soldier rose up in front of him, covered in leaves and twigs, a handgun spouting flame. Ken whipped his body into a spin, lashing out with his foot, managing to avoid getting shot, but the knife in the soldier’s other hand sent a streak of fire racing down his thigh. He caught the soldier on the hip and sent him staggering back. The gun went off a second time, the bullet zipping through the trees, shaving leaves from the branches.

Ken sprang into the air, cartwheeling over the soldier’s head to avoid the next shot. He banked off a tree and kicked the soldier hard in the head, driving the toe of his boot into the back of the man’s head. He dropped like a brick, and Ken was on him, quickly snapping the neck and letting the body fall to the ground. He removed weapons, ammunition, and a tiny radio, and once more began to follow the stream back toward the house, using much more caution. Obviously the ground soldiers had spread out and were circling the house.

I’m approaching from the east.

About damn time. Jack inched his way to get a better angle on one of the soldiers moving through the yard toward the east. He had to cover Ken’s approach, but the enhanced soldier wasn’t giving him anything to work with.

The air around him shimmered, turned opaque. He felt the impact in both his chest and head, as if something squeezed the air out of his body. The enhanced soldier was making his move, forming a shield around Jack.

Jack rolled, bringing up his rifle, but there was no target. He wasn’t certain a bullet could penetrate the psychic shield. Only two men he knew could do such a thing. Kadan Montague and Jesse Calhoun. Jesse worked with the SEALs team and Kadan belonged to the other team-a mixture of several of the special forces under General Rainer. Had either the admiral or the general set them up? Someone was working with Whitney and they had to find out whom, or sooner or later both teams were going to be set up to be murdered. Now that Whitney was acquiring his own army, all of them had to be expendable.

“So you’re Jack Norton. I hear about you all the time. Elite. The best. You and your brother are so unstoppable. No one can shoot you from the ground. Let’s see how good you really are. If you want me, put the rifle down and let’s have at it.”

Jack was silent, trying to get an exact location from the sound of the voice. “You’re looking for a reputation.”

“I have a reputation. You’re the older, flawed model.”

“You mean I can think for myself.” Jack tried to inch his way to the edge of the roof, but a bullet slammed into the shingles beside his boot, warning him to stay still.

“I’m going to kill you,” the other man said, confidence in his voice.

“Who the hell are you?”

“Name’s Will Gunthrie. You remember me. You put a gun to my head when we were out in the jungle in Colombia. You didn’t like my attitude.”

Jack had him now, the memory bringing bile into his throat. The kid was a straight-up killer, liked inflicting pain. It was more than a job; he wanted to hurt. He hadn’t gone for a straight kill, but had left two guards with slashes in their bellies, trying to put their guts back inside. Men like Gunthrie sickened Jack.

“You’ve been practicing with your knife, haven’t you, Willie?” Jack asked softly. “I took it away from you and stuck a gun in your mouth and you pissed your pants. You wake up at night in a cold sweat, don’t you, thinking about me taking out your sorry ass.”

The shield expanded and contracted as if Will’s temper had flared, but when he spoke, his voice was as cool as ever. “I want my chance, Jackie boy. You’re such a badass, the boogie man of snipers, you and that ghost of a brother of yours. Funny how no one ever sees or hears him until it’s too late. But you’re the one they talk about. Big Bad Jack.”

“Yeah, he’s out there, somewhere in the shadows, Will, got a bead on you right now. Are you sweating again? You’re starting to feel him, aren’t you? Is your left eye twitching yet? I go for between the eyes, but Ken likes the left eye.”

“You want to kill me, Jack, come at me with a knife. Your guns aren’t going to do any good this time.”

Jack sighed. “I don’t have time for this crap, Willie, but if your ego needs stroking, let’s do it and get it over with.”

You know it’s a trap, Jack! I can’t even see up to the roof. There’s some kind of light reflecting back at me. I’m in position; I should be able to see both of you, but the haze is covering the roof. Can you get out of there?

I don’t think so, Ken. I’m going to have to do this his way. He’s been waiting a long time. I should have capped his ass in Colombia when I found him torturing the guards. I would have, but we had to fight our way out of there and we needed every man.

Did you know he was part of the psychic experiments, Jack? Did you see him taking the test?

No. I thought he was killed a couple of months after we took the test. I’d been keeping tabs on him and word came down he took a hit in Afghanistan.

It could be a trap, Jack. There are two helicopters, and one is buzzing back and forth over the roof. I’ve got a radio, and they’re ordering your boy to stand down and remove the shield. As soon as you show yourself, he could do it and let the helicopter boys have themselves a regular turkey shoot.

Jack pulled the strap of his rifle over his head and set the weapon aside. He patted the Glock in his shoulder harness and pushed his rifle out away from the chimney, where Will could see it. Maybe, Ken, but I think he’s got too big of a hard-on for me. He’s been thinking about this for a long time. This is his one chance and he knows it. And it might be my only one as well. If he removes the shield, I’ve got to contend with both helicopters and with him.

Ken swore. Get it done then. I’ll see what I can do about the helicopters.

“You want to really do this, Will?” Jack asked. “Put your rifle where I can see it. I know you’ve got a handgun, but so do I. You bring that shield down and I’ll kill you before they get to me. If you don’t believe anything else, you believe that.”

Will Gunthrie laid his rifle in plain sight on the roof and stepped out. Jack was tempted to shoot him right there and be done with it.

“You can shoot me,” Will said, “but I’m looking down my sights right at you and you’re a dead man as well. Keep your hand away from your gun. This is personal to me, Jack, and that’s why you’re going to die. Everything is business to you.”

“Are you looking to talk me to death?” Jack asked softly.

Gunthrie whipped up his hand, wrist flicking, sending a knife streaking through the air. Jack dove under it, rolling, coming up directly in front of the younger man, knife slicing up the thigh and going for the soft parts of the body. Will leapt back, drawing a second knife, circling warily. “I’ll give it to you that you’re fast. Didn’t expect that.”

Jack watched him, his eyes taking in every detail, registering the slightest movement, the tensing of muscles, the tic in the jaw. Jack smiled, a mere baring of his teeth. “You’re sweating, Gunthrie, and we haven’t even started yet.”

Will feinted to draw Jack in. Jack just watched him without reacting, his stare unblinking, the flat, cold eyes never leaving his target. Blood dripped down Gunthrie’s leg from the slice along his thigh, but he had jumped away before the cut could go deep enough to do major damage. “Come on! What are you waiting for?” He beckoned with his fingers, but Jack just watched, never reacting.

Will moved with blurring speed, slashing with the blade, up toward Jack’s stomach and across the midsection, narrowly missing skin, laying open Jack’s shirt. Jack’s shoulder moved, a flick of his wrist as he engaged and leapt back. There was a shallow slice along both of Gunthrie’s forearms and one across his chest-right over his heart. Jack’s expression never changed. His gaze remained flat and cold, his eyes gleaming silver as he watched for Will’s next move.

It came fast, Gunthrie leaping into the air, aiming a spinning back kick at Jack’s stomach and lashing out with his knife as he came around. The kick never connected-Jack caught his ankle, but as his opponent spun around, and the knife slashed a burning cut across Jack’s bicep.

Jack drove his blade deep into Gunthrie’s thigh, twisting as he withdrew it, shoving the man away from him and leaping back, only to rush forward again, knife slicing several times, making shallow cuts so that when he stepped away again, blood welled from half a dozen small cuts.

Will Gunthrie swore savagely and stepped in close, driving his knife upward in a classic attack, wanting to finish it. Jack slapped his wrist away and repeated the figure-eight attack, the shallow cuts to the arms and belly, adding one to Gunthrie’s face. Will staggered back and stared down at the blood welling up from so many sites. “You fight like a girl.”

Jack didn’t respond, merely watched him, refusing to be drawn into a conversation with a man he already considered dead. On some level he was aware of the helicopter hovering overhead, trying to find a way around the shield Gunthrie had built, and he was very much aware that when that shield came down, he would have to move faster than he’d ever moved in his life. His mind plotted every step, even to collecting his rifle, and all the while he watched Gunthrie, waiting for that one mistake he knew would come.

The soldier lifted his hand to wipe the blood from his face, and Jack went in fast, slamming the knife deep, tearing through the wall of the chest and burying it in Gunthrie’s heart. They stood toe to toe, staring into each other’s eyes. “It’s very personal this time to me, Gunthrie, and you should have taken that into account.”

The light faded from the other man’s eyes, leaving them opaque, flat, and as lifeless as the body slumping to the rooftop. As Gunthrie died, the shield shimmered into transparency, dissolving to leave Jack standing on the roof with half a dozen guns aimed at him and a helicopter circling.

The soldier manning the machine gun let loose with a hail of bullets. Jack dove for the edge of the roof, catching his rifle with one hand and slipping the strap over his head in a smooth practiced move as he flipped over the eaves and swung hard to bring his feet back through the window, into the relative cover of his bedroom.

Down, down. Incoming.

Everything around him exploded, taking out part of the wall and burning down his leg, charring his pants and searing flesh as he crawled to the reach the protection of the bathroom. He slapped his smoldering jeans, rolling over and over to put out any flames. He swore as blisters rose along his calf and thigh and his skin turned bright red.

Take that fucking guy out.

I’m on it. Even as Ken spoke, Jack squeezed the trigger, focusing first on the shooter with the machine gun and second on the soldier lobbing grenades. I’m going for the helicopter.

Wait until the damn thing is clear of the house. I don’t want it coming down on my head.

Ken squeezed off three rounds in rapid succession, and the helicopter began to spin wildly. Jack lifted his head enough to take aim and add another two rounds. The helicopter slipped sideways and spun again, black smoke pouring off of it.

Damn it, Ken. It’s going to hit the garage. My Jeep is parked there. Your Rover just happens to be in the shed. How did that happen?

Bitch-bitch-bitch. Get out of there. Someone just jumped from the helicopter, and the way he landed, he’s a supersoldier.

The helicopter slid to the ground, crumbling, almost in slow motion, metal grinding loudly and more smoke choking the air. Clouds of smoke burst all around them.

He’s blanketing the area, Jack, could be coming at you. Are you hit?

Not exactly, but I’m really pissed you blew up my car.

I didn’t blow up your car, you jackass. I saved your life. I told you to park the thing in the shed. I was cleaning the garage out and you wouldn’t move it. Serves your happy ass right.

Something stilled inside of Jack. Where’s the second helicopter?

I shot at him a couple of times and he drew back.

Jack shook his head, trying to force his mind to rise above combat mode. Something’s not right, he said. They’re engaging with us, Ken, but they aren’t trying all that hard. You think they’re afraid?

Ken turned that over and over in his mind, frowning as he did so. I think they’re obeying orders.

So they’re keeping us occupied. Whitney ran his computer probabilities like he did for every mission, and his damn computer said we’d stash Briony somewhere safe. Jack’s gut knotted-not a good sign. Warning alarms were beginning to shriek at him.

Ken’s alarm rang just as loud. Briony was worried because they keep finding her. How, Jack? How are they finding her?