“I don’t hear anyone,” Gower said quietly as we listened at the stairwell’s door.
“This level is quite soundproofed,” White said. “Though I hear nothing as well.”
I didn’t either, but I was sure Algar wanted us down here. “Paul, the last time, you held out against the mind control. You and the others who could were locked into isolation chambers. What are the odds that’s happened again?”
“I’d think high,” White said.
“But that was a last resort,” Gower said. “And he was keeping us in there to use us. I don’t know that we should count on our people being safely locked away.”
“True enough. Though it was hard as hell to get you guys out because Gladys changed all the security codes. Which she’s probably done again.”
“We’ll deal with it as we have to,” White said.
“I have a question,” Adriana said before we could do anything else. “Why haven’t we been intercepted yet?”
“How do you mean?”
“No one has come to stop us. If the facility is under siege, where are its guardians? Are the only guards the ones we saw at the top level? That seems remarkably . . . trusting, and I doubt these enemies are trusting. And where is our other team?”
“Maybe our other team has already handled everything else?” Gower asked. He didn’t sound like he thought that was a real possibility, but the hope was definitely there.
Considered this as “Bite the Bullet” by Motörhead came onto my personal sound system. It wasn’t the same listening to them at low volume, but I did kind of have to be able to hear what my team was saying. “Or the bad guys know we’re here and know we’re coming, and are lying in wait, not making any sound.”
“You’re really sure this is the place for a standoff?” Gower asked.
“I’m really sure that Ronaldo almost won last time, in this area, and that Jeff beat the crap out of him, in this area.”
“And you made your first decision as Pontifex in this area,” White added softly. “I’m with my partner—we should be prepared for attack the moment we go through the door.”
“Let’s weapon up, gang. And remember,” I added as everyone pulled out guns, “the majority of the targets are going to be our own people being mind controlled. We have no idea who’s under control or not right now, and Ronaldo Al Dejahl is a strong enough imageer that he can change to look like anyone he wants to. We can’t shoot to kill, even if we want to.”
“We’ll shoot to wound then,” Adriana said calmly. “If needed.”
“Let’s prepare for the worst and hope for the best,” White said. He nodded to Gower, who grabbed Adriana’s hand while White grabbed mine.
“Ready, ladies?” White asked.
“As we’ll ever be, Mister White. Let’s go see what bizarre form of Mexican Standoff we’re dealing with this time.”
With that, White opened the door.
CHAPTER 36
I WAS AMAZED we hadn’t heard anything. Because there was a hell of a fight going on, albeit farther into the floor. Apparently Isolation had the best soundproofing of any A-C facility, including the Embassy. I’d never be willing to have sex here, regardless, but it was good to know.
The fight, in fact, was going on exactly where Ronaldo and White and then Ronaldo and Jeff had fought before. Meaning this spot had been chosen on purpose. And also meaning that we were expected to come inside. Decided to table what this might mean in terms of Mahin or not for later.
The fight was going on at hyperspeed, but thanks to being enhanced, I could see it. Adriana couldn’t, and neither could any of the other humans in here. Though most of them looked down if not completely out.
Spotted all the flyboys, all looking decidedly worse for wear. Same with Tim and Kevin. All of them were down and looked unconscious. As I looked for him, Reader came flying backward through the air, slammed against a wall, and joined the rest of the humans in unconsciousness. Chose to believe they were all unconscious at least. Gower growled. Couldn’t blame him.
Jeff’s team was still up and active. Tito and Rahmi were attacking together, while Chuckie and Rhee were teamed up, the princesses shouting instructions to their respective humans. It was remarkably effective, and, of course, both Chuckie and Tito had fought A-Cs and others with hyperspeed before. Of course, so had the other guys. They were taking on a lot of Field agents, and most of Security, based on body size. It wasn’t an even fight.
“I’m going to help Charles and Princess Rhee,” White said to Gower. “You take our good doctor and Princess Rahmi. Missus Martini, I’m sure you’ll be going to assist your husband. Adriana, my dear, stay here at the door and don’t let anyone through.”
With that he and Gower took off. “I thought the Pontifex was not supposed to get involved in these kinds of brawls,” Adriana said.
“They’re not, but you can’t really blame them.” There were a lot of random Field agents. They chose to pay attention to us. “So much for you merely guarding the door.”
“Do you truly want me at the door or helping?”
“Actually, you might want to go through it and stay on the other side.”
“No, I will stay to help you. The coming fight looks quite unfair.”
“Can you actually see to help?”
“Grandmother has been working with me on the skill. And I believe the medicine Doctor Hernandez created to help humans handle hyperspeed has a side effect of helping the eyes ‘see faster.’ So somewhat.”
“It’ll have to do.” We were out of time—the random A-Cs had reached us.
Rage tended to be my friend. I didn’t have a lot of “flight” in my makeup. I seemed to always be on the side of “fight” for that particular reflex option. As I’d been learning every day since giving birth to my daughter, rage was vital, because rage meant I was in full command of all the A-C bells and whistles I’d inherited.
Rage was easy to achieve right now for some reason. The Crüe’s “White Trash Circus” came on again. Worked for me—it had a good beat to fight to. And I was going to fight.
Shoved the Glock into the back of my pants, kept my purse over my head, had a weird idea, and put the baseball mitt on. Would have preferred a bat, but improvisation was my middle name.
The agents were on us. And I started spinning, fast.
I wasn’t doing this move merely to get dizzy. I was using the mitt as an extension of my arm, so that I could keep the agents just a little farther away. It had the advantage of being quite old, and therefore not exactly supple.
Leather, if not kept up as it ages, tends to get hard. This mitt wasn’t up to solid wood standards, but it had been left in a pipe for twenty-plus years. It was pretty hard, made to feel harder by the speed I was going.
It was also effective, at least if the grunts of pain I was hearing from the men I was hitting were any indication.
The only downside was that I wasn’t tall enough to hit most of their heads. Had to solve that problem, and quickly.
Found a shorter A-C of the group attacking me and stopped spinning. Jumped on his back instead. He started trying to get me off and, happy day, decided that spinning around was a great plan.
Rage being what it was, I was actually stronger than the guy who I was using as a stepladder. So I was able to get onto his shoulders and lock my legs around his back. As long as he didn’t watch MMA and therefore realize that if he just fell forward I’d be screwed, we were good.