Jihad

CHAPTER 2

Lia DeFrancesca threw her hand against the window of the Mercedes, slamming what looked like a large cookie into the comer of the glass near the driver. She twisted her palm against the device and let go, jerking back as flames from the nearby bus erupted above her. The heat from the fireball drove her to her knees. There, she reached her right hand into her left sleeve and pulled out what looked like a fabric eyeglass case with a metallic nipple at the top. She rammed the nipple into the center of the cookie, which by then had drilled a hole through the glass window. Black smoke furled around her, so thick that Lia had trouble seeing the brown swatch at the side of the case she had to press. She worked her fingers across the canvas exterior, feeling for the button; when she found it, she pressed twice without feeling the click of the spring beneath her thumb. Finally a third touch solicited a loud swoosh, as the compressed gas in the canister inside the bag was released into the car through a hole drilled by the cookie. Still on her knees, Lia reached into her right sleeve and took a cell phone from its elastic holding spot. She flipped the phone open and punched the green button; rather than dialing a number, the phone sent a code to the car’s master computer, unlocking the doors. By the time she got up, the device she’d placed on the window had already done its job: all four of the car’s occupants were unconscious.

“The security team is out of the vehicles,” said a voice in Lia’s head. It belonged to Rockman, the runner back in the Art Room monitoring the mission. “You have thirty seconds.”

Lia pulled the gas device from the window and kicked it under the car. Opening the rear passenger door, she removed a switchblade from her sleeve and hacked through the seatbelt of the passenger nearest her, then tucked her shoulder down and lifted him from the car. She’d just gotten him to the ground when a beefy set of fingers grabbed her right arm and threw her to the pavement.