The Backlash Mission

Chapter 17

It was nearly three in the afternoon, and Lathe was idly searching his maps for a secondary escape route from the Shandygaff, when Jensen arrived with the news.

"Where?" he asked the other as Skyler and Mordecai joined them from other parts of the safe house.

"Over on Rialto Avenue, Reger said—sixteen hundred block," Jensen told them. "Looks abandoned, but I doubt Caine's dumped it this soon."

"No, he'd hold on to it as long as possible," Lathe agreed, stroking his dragonhead ring gently.

"Having lost his original car, the only way to get a replacement would be to steal one, and Security would be bound to notice something that obvious."

"So what now?" Skyler asked. "We go pick him up, dust him off, and set him back on his feet?"

"I'd like to avoid that," Lathe said. "Besides the question of putting Caine's nose out of joint, there're certain advantages of running two independent groups. But we sure as hell are going to get our eyetracks back on him. Jensen, are you mobile, or did someone drop you off?"

"I've got one of Reger's vans—I was coming into the city to pick up some new equipment anyway when the word came through from his people."

"All right. I'd like you to come in convoy with us, if you can spare the time. We may need the van for surveillance purposes, depending on what cover's available in that neighborhood." Lathe glanced at Skyler and Mordecai, wondering whether he really needed to drag both of them out there for what was likely to be a simple reconnaissance probe. But this was enemy territory, and he'd hate to run into trouble with his backups unavailable. "You two can come along—the fresh air will do you good," he told them. "Jensen, you lead the way."

Lathe had long since resigned himself to the fact that he would never really become comfortable with Denver's horrendous traffic level, but as Skyler guided the car through the mess he found it was becoming possible for him to ignore the whizzing vehicles and concentrate on the buildings and pedestrians beyond them. Denver was easily the most prosperous city he'd seen since the war, and it was with a mixture of envy and determination that he gazed around them. Someday Plinry will be like this, too, he promised himself silently. Without the Ryqril, if at all possible.

"Makes you wonder what kind of deal the city's leaders struck with the Ryqril after the war, doesn't it?" Skyler commented, waving a hand toward the unscarred landscape. "They sure as hell didn't go down fighting."

Lathe shrugged. "Maybe they decided it was futile to do so. Plinry would've given in a lot faster if we hadn't been all hell-bent ourselves on keeping a guerrilla war going. Anyway, look on the bright side—if they'd made the Ryqril scorch the city there wouldn't have been nearly as large a populace here for us to blend into."

"There's that, of course," Skyler admitted. "Though I don't suppose—"

He broke off as their tinglers came on; Lathe: Note quiet Security position at right curb.

Frowning, Lathe took a careful look as they passed. It was a surveillance team, all right: a parked car with four men sitting in it trying to look inconspicuous. "Maybe it's a stakeout by one of the raft of criminal organizations in town," Skyler suggested.

"They're Security." Mordecai was quietly positive. "Backup position off on the left now—there.

Standard unimaginative Security placement."

"It's standard because it makes sense," Lathe pointed out. But a small knot was beginning to form in the pit of his stomach. "Skyler, turn left up here," he directed, fingers finding his tingler. Jensen: Continue straight; rendezvous in three blocks. Watch for stakeout positions; estimate enemy strength.

Acknowledged. Battle conditions?

Lathe hesitated. Prebattle. Soft probe only.

"Damn them to hell," Skyler muttered. "I hope we're not too late."

"Me too." Lathe leaned against the edge of his window, trying to get a view of the sky above them.

"Mordecai, check out your side. Any suspicious aircraft up there?"

There was a short pause. "I see something that might be a spotter lazing around—it's too high to tell for sure."

Lathe pursed his lips and returned his attention to the street. If the spotters were still hanging that far back, chances were Security wasn't ready to make its move quite yet. "I'd say we still have some time," he told the others. "Let's get a fast strength estimate and rejoin Jensen. And try to figure out how the hell we're going to pull Caine out of here."

"Once we actually find them," Skyler murmured.

"There's that, of course."

Ten minutes later they had their estimate: something close to a hundred Security men and perhaps fifteen or twenty vehicles. Not counting whatever backup troops might be riding in the three aircraft they'd spotted circling the area.

"On the more hopeful side," Lathe said as they squatted in the back of Jensen's parked van, "Security seems to have a better pinpoint on Caine's location, probably from checking city records on abandoned houses in the area. If we can key out the net's structure, we may be able to get that information ourselves." He shrugged. "Then comes the fun part. Any suggestions on where and how we cut our way out of this one?"

"We find the sleepiest-looking carload and punch through there," Skyler offered. "Fast and clean, and not until we've got Caine's team in motion."

"The problem being that with this much invested in the primary net, they'll certainly have some insurance backup primed and ready to move," Lathe pointed out. "Ideally, what we'd like is to get a look at Security's operational map."

"Well, why not?" Jensen said, an odd edge to his voice. "The spotters up there have to have copies—let's get one down and look at it."

Lathe regarded him thoughtfully. "Interesting idea. Tell me, you think you'd be able to fly one of those things?"

"Sure. An airlift makes the most sense, anyway. I was wondering when you'd get around to it."

"Yeah. Well..." Lathe thought for a moment. "All right, let's try it. First step is to find the spotters'

ground-support vehicle—they're bound to have something like that around for tight communications.

Mordecai, you come in the van with me; you two follow in the car."

They found the unmarked van four blocks away, sitting at the far end of an office building's parking lot. A flying ambulance sat resting on its landing skids a few meters away; between and around the two vehicles were nine plain-dressed but obvious Security men.

"Signal Skyler and Jensen for slingshot backcover," Lathe told Mordecai as he pulled their van into the lot and drove toward the Security force. "You and I will handle primary assault if and when needed; we'll try the soft approach first."

"Got it." Mordecai busied himself with his tingler.

Two of the Security men, paral-dart pistols at the ready, stepped over to them as Lathe brought the van to a stop near the group. One opened his mouth to speak; Lathe beat him to the punch. "Where's your officer?" the comsquare snapped, striding between the pair of them toward the van. "Who's in charge of this unit?" he called in a louder voice as the two would-be challengers scrambled to catch up with him.

"I'm Major Garret," a middle-aged man said, stepping down from the open van door and taking a step forward. "Who are you and what do you want?"

Lathe pulled a card from his pocket and handed it over. "Captain Hari—Special Services," he identified himself. "We've got some unexpected trouble back there. This guy Caine's apparently gotten a lock on our command and tactical frequencies—"

"He's what?" The major looked up from the ID card, his frown deepening. "That's impossible. We've got full-spectrum scramble-freq lock codes running here, coupled with—"

"Don't argue with me," Lathe cut him off. "I don't know how the hell he's doing it. All I know—and all you need to know—is what we're going to do about it." He nodded toward the van. "I want you to call the spotters down one at a time so I can clue them in on this. Then they'll go back up and behave exactly as if nothing was happening. With luck we'll be able to lull Caine into thinking he knows our every move while we move some units into new positions."

The major fingered the ID thoughtfully. "What do the spotters have to do with it?"

"They'll see what's happening below, of course," Lathe explained in a tone of strained patience. "We don't want them broadcasting the news that some of our units are out of their proper positions, now, do we?"

Garret pursed his lips, then half turned toward the van door. "Harris—call Spotter Three down here.

Tell them..." He hesitated.

"Tell them we're adding on an extra observer," Lathe supplied.

"Good enough," Garret said. "Do it, Harris." He turned back to Lathe. "Now. Just what the hell is this Special Services, anyway?"

Lathe let a faintly disgusted look cross his face. "We're a brand-new unit working directly out of the Security prefect's office—started four months ago. Don't you read your daily reports?"

"Sure do, but I never saw any mention of any special units," the other returned. "I'm going to have to verify this with Athena, Captain, before I can take any orders from you."

And by now Spotter Three would be on its way down with a catbird view of any trouble that might erupt. At all costs they had to make sure it saw nothing suspicious. "Do whatever you have to, but do it fast," Lathe told the major, waving a hand impatiently. The motion concealed his hand signal to Mordecai; out of the corner of his eye he saw the small man take a casual step toward the open van door. "Caine'll be making his move to break out as soon as he thinks he's got the net figured out, and we have to have the gaps plugged by then."

"Right." Garret turned back to the van, stepped past Mordecai to climb inside.

"Where the hell is that spotter?" Lathe growled, lifting his gaze to the sky. Peripherally, he saw the outside men shift their own attention upward in automatic response... saw Mordecai slip silently into the van behind Garret. "There it is. Come on, you jelly-heads—move it," he snarled toward the descending craft.

Because he was listening for it, he heard the muffled umph from inside the van.

The spotter settled down to the pavement beside the van, the pilot popping his side door and leaning out. "What's going on?" he asked. "I don't need another observer—"

"Change in plans," Lathe snapped, giving the aircraft's interior a quick once-over. A single observer, seated next to the pilot; rear compartment empty of backup soldiers but big enough—barely—for the crowd they'd need to stuff in there. Perfect. "We've got some communication-leakage problems," he continued, gesturing Jensen over from the blackcollars' van, "and we're replacing your man with a specialist. Get out," he added, shifting his eyes to the observer.

"Now wait a second," the pilot protested as his companion obediently popped his own door. Jensen was already on that side, offering a hand with the harness release. "My orders came directly from General Quinn's office—"

"What the hell?"

Lathe caught just a glimpse of one of the Security men gaping into the open van door, his hand scrabbling for his pistol—and then the comsquare jabbed stiffened fingers into the pilot's throat.

The man gagged, folding over his controls as Lathe hit the harness release and hauled him bodily out of the aircraft. On the other side Jensen similarly took the observer out of the fight; turning, Lathe found Mordecai had exploded from the Security van and was cutting a deadly swath through the remaining men with his hands and feet. All around them, the remaining defenders scrambled to bring their weapons to bear, confusion as to the most immediate target slowing their response. Snatching a pair of shuriken from behind his belt, Lathe sent them spinning into the farthest of the defenders. A

nearer man, suddenly seeming to notice him, swung around and fired; Lathe dropped under the cluster of paral-darts even as Jensen's shuriken blurred over the spotter to end that particular threat.

Lathe rolled into a crouch, sent two more shuriken into the melee, and watched yet another man drop as Skyler opened up from the van with his slingshot.

In seconds, it was all over.

"Dump them in the ambulance," Lathe ordered the others, hoisting the nearest man up into a shoulder carry. "Jensen, get that thing into the air right away—I'll keep in touch with you from the Security van."

"Right." Jensen slid into the spotter and closed the doors. A moment later the gravs flared with blueviolet light and the craft headed smoothly into the sky.

"I hope he doesn't do anything stupid," Skyler said. "Maybe I should've gone with him."

"I need you here," Lathe said shortly.

They soon had the casualties out of sight in the ambulance. "And now a quick look at the maps to find out where Caine is?" Skyler suggested.

"Right," Lathe said, glancing back toward the street. Ever since the fight had started, he'd been halfway braced for reinforcements to come swooping down on them; but either none of the Denverites walking and driving a hundred meters away had noticed the fracas or else they'd chosen not to get involved by reporting it. He'd seen the same thing happen in other cities, both during the war and immediately after it, and while it still struck him as an odd reaction he'd long since learned to accept and make use of it. "You go ahead," he told Skyler. "Mordecai, come take a quick look at the ambulance cockpit with me."

It was a somewhat smaller compartment than the equivalent space in the spotter aircraft had been.

"You going to try and take this one, too?" Mordecai asked.

"Not right away," Lathe answered, trying to move one of the seats away from the back of the cockpit. "You ever had any experience flying something like this? Never mind; it doesn't look like there's any way in from the main compartment anyway."

Mordecai looked, grunted agreement. "You have something specific in mind, or just gathering gleanings?"

"A little of both." Lathe glanced at the controls once more and backed out of the cockpit. "Well, that's for another day. Let's see how Skyler's doing."

The big blackcollar had the information ready by the time they joined him in the Security van. "The net's clearly centered on this block right here," he told them, jabbing a finger down onto the map.

"This number here might be an address, but I wouldn't count too heavily on that."

"Fortunately, we don't have to," Lathe said. "All right; here's the plan."

He outlined it for them, and a few minutes later they all left the lot: Lathe in the Security van, Mordecai in the car, and Skyler driving the second van. Skyler headed south as Mordecai and Lathe set out toward the target zone, signaling periodically with their tinglers. They were almost to the block Skyler had pinpointed when a response finally came.

Identify yourselves.

Lathe breathed a sigh of relief. This is Lathe, he sent. Danger/emergency—Security net encircling you. Escape must be immediate.

There was a short pause. Lathe: Prove identity.

"Damn," the comsquare snorted under his breath. Code signal four follows: gamma ray, cluster charge, hammer throw. Respond.

Incense, Carno fandragon, operant. Why are you here?

Danger emergency. Location?

The reply was almost grudging; clearly, the blackcollars' unexpected appearance still had Caine offbalance.

1822 Renforth.

Half a block down. Come out now; get in northbound blue van. Mordecai: Take forward ram position.

Acknowledged.

He was almost to the house now, and for a long moment he thought Caine would miss the pickup.

But the younger man was merely playing tight on the timing: as the van drew abreast of the walkway, the front door suddenly opened and the five men sprinted out toward the street. Lathe had the side door sprung before they were halfway there, and in five seconds flat they were all aboard.

"Get yourselves braced," Lathe snapped at them, stomping on the accelerator. Ahead, Mordecai's car had emerged from the next street to lead the way; from the van's radio a slow flurry of commotion was beginning to flood in as the Security watchers belatedly realized something unscheduled was happening. At the next intersection four plain-dressed men scrambled out of their parked car, bringing laser rifles to bear—and dived out of the way as Mordecai put on a burst of speed and did his best to run them down.

Beside Lathe, a figure slid into the van's other front seat. Caine. "What can I do?" he asked tightly.

"Grab the mike and punch in Combat Freq One," Lathe told him, fighting the steering wheel as he rescattered the Security men. "Jensen's up there in a spotter—tell him to put down in the parking lot we just left."

"Got it." Caine busied himself with the radio, and Lathe risked a glance in the mirror at the rest of the team. Still rattled, but adjusting rapidly enough. "Full combat garb," he ordered them. "The next group may get some shots off at us. Braune, signal Mordecai to make for the lot we just left."

"Yes, sir," Braune said, pausing with battle-hood halfway in place to tap at his tingler.

The radio pinged, and a familiar voice came on. "Jensen acknowledging. Sit tight—I'm going to take out some of the opposition first."

"What does he mean by that?" Caine asked.

Lathe consciously relaxed his jaw. "I'm not sure," he admitted. "He may be going to buzz some of the positions closest to the rendezvous point before landing."

Without warning, a flash of light erupted from the next corner. Lathe ducked reflexively as part of the van's front blistered into a cloud of vaporized surfacing; and an instant later the vehicle tilted sideways as the left front tire blew with the heat of a second shot. "Hang on!" Lathe snapped, twisting the wheel hard. The tire would surely be equipped with an inner travel rim, but if the laser fire had damaged that too, they could well wind up taking the last couple of blocks on foot.

Ahead, Mordecai's car slowed fractionally at the hidden gunner's street and the blackcollar's left arm whipped outward through the open window. Whether the shuriken found its target or not Lathe didn't know, but the van passed the intersection without drawing any more fire.

They were barely a block away from the parking lot when the thunder of an explosion nearly shook them off the road.

Lathe's first, horrible thought was that Jensen had crashed his spotter. But seconds later they turned the next corner and saw the other's apparently undamaged aircraft settle onto the parking lot.

Mordecai pulled over to let the van pass ahead of it into the lot, then turned sharply to bring his car to a halt sideways across the opening. In the mirror Lathe saw a pair of Security cars in hot pursuit; Mordecai sent a flight of shuriken in their general direction and then turned and sprinted for the spotter. Stomping on the brake, Lathe swung open his door and leaped out as the van screeched to a halt. "Everyone into the spotter!" he snapped over his shoulder.

They hurried to obey. Beyond the running Mordecai, the Security cars had also stopped and were beginning to discharge armed men. Lathe sent a shuriken toward the crowd and then pulled his slingshot from under his tunic and unfolded the forearm brace.

"Here," Caine said from beside him, pressing a tiny cylinder into his hand. The younger man, Lathe saw, also had his slingshot ready, another of the objects in his hand. "It's a primer cap," he explained, and fired it over Mordecai's head. As a serious explosive device, the primer cap was a joke; as a creator of chaos, it was absolutely perfect. The Security men scattered as Caine's and then Lathe's projectiles blew up in their midst, laser rifles forgotten in the scramble for cover. The two men kept up the barrage until Mordecai had passed them, then turned and sprinted after him. Seconds later, squeezed together like small fish with the rest of Caine's group, they were airborne.

"Any place in particular we headed for?" Jensen asked casually over his shoulder.

"Head south to where the expressway starts—Skyler's supposed to wait for us there," Lathe told him, trying without success to get a look out of one of the cockpit windows. "And watch your back—the other spotters will be on top of us any second now."

"Unlikely," Jensen said, shaking his head, "seeing as I knocked both of them out of the sky a few minutes ago."

"You did what?" Alamzad gasped.

"Forced them down. Rammed their rear stabilizer assemblies, to be specific—this design has always had a glass tail. One of them crashed trying to chase me on manual. The other had more sense and settled for an emergency landing."

"My God," Pittman muttered. "You could have been killed!"

Jensen shrugged. "It's not dangerous when you know what you're doing."

Across Caine's shoulder, Lathe caught Mordecai's eyes. The other grimaced slightly, shook his head in disbelief. Lathe twitched his own head in agreement.

They reached the expressway a minute or two later, setting down just off the road where Skyler's van was waiting. "Everyone out," Lathe ordered, scanning the sky quickly as he trotted toward the van.

Nothing—Jensen's quick air victory had apparently caught Security by surprise.

"They'll have backups in the air any minute now," Jensen reminded him as the comsquare climbed into the seat beside Skyler.

"Right," Lathe said. "Let's get out of here, Skyler."

"The safe house?" the other asked, pulling out into a gap in the traffic flow.

"I think a little extra distance would be appropriate," Lathe answered. "Let's make it Reger's house.

He's got a right to see how his end of the bargain came out, anyway."

Skyler nodded, and silence descended on the crowded van. Behind and above, ground and air Security forces converged on the downed spotter to begin a long and futile search.