The Storm

CHAPTER 23

KURT STARED AT THE CARNAGE IN THE TEST ROOM. “SUDdenly, I wish we’d left when you suggested it,” he said to Joe.

From inside the locker room he and Joe had watched the whole thing, and with the water turning crimson, it seemed they’d outstayed their welcome.

They shed their hazmat suits, moved to the rear door, left the locker room via the stairs.

“Hope you left a trail of bread crumbs,” Joe said.

“Just keep moving upward and away from here,” Kurt replied.

They reached the main hall, overlooking the tank room, but neither of them looked back. Halfway down the hall, the sound of gunfire broke out. The first wave sounded deliberate and calm, but then it became sporadic and peppered with shouting. What sounded like return fire was mixed in.

“The mess hall,” Kurt said. “Those other guys we saw must have been working for the two guys who just became microbot food.”

The gunfire continued, growing more intense. “Sounds like a major battle,” Joe said. “Maybe they didn’t all get taken by surprise.”

“Too bad for us,” Kurt said. “Unless we want to join up with the blue team, we need to lay low for a bit.”

Kurt found a door, cracked it open, and looked inside. He saw computers, printers and drafting tables. None of them occupied.

“In here,” he whispered.

They ducked inside. Kurt spun and closed the door. He pressed himself to the wall and found he could see part of the hallway through a narrow crack between the doorjamb and the edge of the door itself.

“See if there’s a back way out,” he said, “or a closet or somewhere else to hide in if we need to.”

Joe began to look around, and Kurt squinted through the narrow fissure. Whatever plan had been arranged to deal with the outsiders seemed to be falling apart. Some of Jinn’s men ran down the hall, wounded. Moments later reinforcements charged up it, and the noise of the battle grew louder, including explosions from stun grenades.

“Nowhere to hide back here,” Joe said. “No back door either.”

Kurt kept his eye on the gap. “Just our luck to show up in time for the family feud.”

“A minute earlier, and we’d have been caught in the fight,” Joe countered.

“But two minutes earlier, and we’d have been through the battle zone and on our way up to the roof, with them fighting behind us to give us cover.”

“You have a point,” Joe said.

Kurt wedged his foot against the base of the door, widening the gap just a bit and allowing him to see more of the hall. The sound of footsteps reached him well before he could see who or what was approaching.

“Company coming,” he whispered.

Joe held still.

A group passed by, two guards prodding a young woman along. Her face showed fear, but more of something else. Kurt settled on acceptance or resignation.

She passed by in a blink, but a strange feeling rushed over Kurt as he considered her appearance. She was short, with dark spiky hair, a tan complexion and sad eyes. She looked like a prisoner, and, what’s more, she looked like …

Kurt leaned back against the wall. “We have a problem,” he announced.

“You mean beyond being trapped in a maze in the middle of the desert surrounded by ruthless thugs?”

“Yeah,” Kurt said, “beyond that. You’ve met Kimo, right?”

“A couple of times,” Joe said. “Why?”

“Describe him for me.”

“Great guy,” Joe said. “Built like a running back. Stocky, broad-shouldered. He was only about five foot seven, but he was strong as an ox and probably one hundred and eighty pounds.”

“Now, describe his sister.”

“Sad and a little unstable, but with good reason.”

“This isn’t the time get deep on me,” Kurt prodded. “What does she look like?”

“Beautiful,” Joe said. “High cheekbones, fine features, long tan legs.”

“Right,” Kurt said. “Tall and thin, with long limbs and fine silky hair.”

“What are you getting at?”

“I just saw a woman in the hall who looked a lot more like Kimo than the woman we left back on Aqua-Terra.”

“You’ve really got to be kidding me. Was she a prisoner?”

“Looked that way.”

“You don’t think …”

“I do.”

Joe grasped the seriousness of the situation instantly. “So if Leilani is here, then who’s back there on Marchetti’s island?”

“I’m not sure,” Kurt said. “But considering how quick she pulled the gun on Marchetti and then somehow found a way to make up with him afterward, I’m guessing she’s a professional.”

“You called her a hit squad,” Joe reminded him.

“I was joking, but she didn’t bat an eye.”

“No, she didn’t,” Joe said. He took a deep breath. “Paul, Gamay and Marchetti are in danger.”

Kurt nodded. “We have to warn them. Whoever she is, she has to be working for Jinn.”

Before Joe could add anything the door burst open, kicked in by a heavy boot. Men carrying Uzis piled through the gap, swarming over them before they could respond. They were knocked to the ground, subdued and disarmed without a fight.

Two men searched them while others held them down.

“Jabberwocky,” Joe grunted.

“Thanks,” Kurt grunted back sarcastically, the weight of three men holding him down, “I didn’t realize.”

When they’d been relieved of all the tools and weapons, they were lifted to their feet and held in place as another figure entered the room: Jinn al-Khalif, with a rifle in his hand.

He strode up to Kurt. “We’ve been waiting for you,” he said.

“No doubt your spy told you we were coming.”

Jinn smiled like a jackal. “Yes, as a matter of fact, she did.”

With that, he slammed the butt of his rifle into Kurt’s gut, knocking the wind out of him and dropping him back to the floor.

“Her name is Zarrina. She sends her regards.”