''Hey, Grant!'' That blasted woman's voice drew his attention back to her. The tall Naval commander moved out from in front of her.
She held a service automatic. It was aimed directly between Grant's eyes.
''You die first,'' she said.
A second later, several of the Marines had joined her, their automatics on him. Reflexively, Grant's eyes searched their uniforms. All were sharpshooters. One a sniper.
Somewhere in the building there was an explosion.
Now Marines and armed security guards drew beads on the punks lining the upper balcony.
''You sure you want to die with a jarhead's dart between your eyes?'' came in the voice of a Marine sergeant.
Above, rifles wavered. One disappeared from view as someone broke into a run.
Grant waited for one of his sergeants to tell him what was happening. Better yet, for one of his sharpshooters to take that woman down.
Then the lights went out.
Grant dropped into the darkness and off of the bronzes. Behind him darts pinged off the artwork where he'd been a second ago.
Kris said a bitter word as the lights went out. That was not what she'd intended.
She'd edged up to the door slowly, examining it as she went. It was metal, with an armored-glass window, reinforced with bars. In an older, more safe world, it would have been the epitome of maximum security.
Today, it was puny.
She waved a Marine forward. He frowned at the lock, then reached into this uniform and withdrew a coil of plastic explosives.
While he rigged the door for destruction, Kris risked a few glances through the glass.
It showed her little. Whatever was inside was far inside, well away from the door. What she did see carried the hint of observation and security.
Hopefully, this was where the auto-guns were controlled.
The Marine stepped back, signaling that he was ready to blow both the lock and the hinges.
Kris reached into the padding of her rear and pulled out two whizbangs. Jack took one. She kept the other.
The sergeant held up three fingers, then two. Finally one.
And the door exploded.
Kris launched herself from the wall in a low crouch. She hit the door low, Jack high. It went down ahead of them.
But not flat. A body was on the floor beneath it.
Ahead of Kris was a counter, a glass cage cutting off further access to the computer stations within.
There was all of ten centimeters of clearance between counter and glass to allow supplicants to pass requests inside.
Kris tossed her whizbang through the space the same moment Jack did.
Behind her, a Marine went fully automatic, hammering at a small-caliber auto-gun turning to take her under fire.
Even as Kris ducked and rolled up to the counter, the auto-gun was sighting in on her. Kris left that problem to the Marine behind her and aimed her gun at the four men sitting at the computer stations in the room.
The auto-gun put three rounds into Kris's hairdo, then coughed and spat no more.
That's going to hurt in the morning, Kris thought, as she shouted, ''Anyone got a grenade?''
''Here's one,'' a sergeant behind her shouted. He tossed. She caught it, pulled the pin in one motion, and tossed it through the opening in the glass.
''Fire in the hole,'' someone shouted.
A moment later there was an explosion. Kris counted to two, then jumped up and started shooting.
Maybe she didn't aim all that precisely at any specific target. Maybe she should have.
The lights went out.
51
For fifteen seconds, only the light of muzzle flashes lit up the main hall. It was enough for people to die by.
Penny tried to trace Von Schrader's flight by the flashes of the gunners behind him, but he was in full beat-feet mode, and not looking back.
Penny did see several gunners go down behind him, so she wasn't wasting her ammo.
''Mind if we grab some grenades, ma'am?'' came from a Marine.
''Let's don't and say we do,'' Penny said. ''We got a lot of civilians lying around.'' was her answer.
''Let's get them some protection,'' Commander Mulhoney shouted. He rolled behind a marble statue in front of Penny, braced his back against the wall, and pushed. What was likely a very expensive bit of art toppled over, crashing into pieces as it hit. But people could huddle behind it. Around the great hall, other statues of bronze and marble went down.
Fire from the balcony was getting light. Penny balanced that against the fire from the rotunda and ordered her shooters to concentrate there. She also sent a couple of shooters to cover the stairwells in the back. No question, she could be rushed from there.
''Let me see if I can get some of the civilians out of here,'' Commander Mulhoney said. He backed up, found a door that opened onto the east portico, and tried it. It stayed closed. He stood and fired at the lock. It flew open.
He stepped out on the portico. ''Civilians,'' he shouted, ''follow me. Let's get the hell out of this place.'' That got the attention of the people cringing on the floor.
It also got the attention of people with guns who were already outside, covering the balcony. Two rounds spun him around.
''Blast it,'' was his only response as he went down.
Then the emergency lights came on and Penny got a good look at just how bad hell could be.
Grant von Schrader slid to a halt behind a huge bronze vase. ''Colonel, the situation is developing faster than we expected,'' he said into his commlink. ''Tell me something I don't know.''
''We no longer have contact with Security Central,'' he reported.
''I told you that Longknife girl was not to be underestimated.''
The colonel did not defend himself or argue that there was no proof the loss of Security Central was the work of a Longknife. Instead, like a pro, he went on with their future.
''We are taking fire from the parking lot. I suspect we did not get all the Marine guards around the Wardhaven limo. I have detached a fire team to keep them busy.''
''Do not ignore our back door,'' Grant snapped.
''I am not. I have detached two fire teams to cover the river. I'm sending a third up to see if the auto-guns can be operated locally.''
''Good. Tell them to look out for that Longknife hellion. The man who gets her will get millions.''
''Yes, sir. They are aware.''
''And now we must say good-bye, Colonel. Activate the jammer.''
''I was about to, sir. May I recommend that you fall back on my command post.''
''I will see you there in a moment. The slaughter here should be over very soon.''
Grant turned to the sergeant at his elbow. ''Kill them all, then report to your colonel when your job here is done.''
The Greenfeld men pulled grenades from their belts as Grant low-crawled for the stairwell.
Bronc stared at his computer. It was totally jammed. A rock would tell him as much as his fine computer.
One of the sergeants picked up a gun that had fallen to the balcony's floor. The young man who had held it stared blankly ahead. His forehead had a small hole in it.
Bronc had seen what the back of his head looked like. He never wanted to see that again.
''Your computer's no good. Do some shooting,'' he ordered.
Bronc put his computer aside and took the gun. He eyed it like some snake.
''Shoot, damn you, kid. Shoot or I'll shoot you.'' It didn't sound like something Bronc could argue with.
Not when the sergeant punctuated it by shooting down a kid that was running for the far end of the balcony.
Bronc edged up to the balcony. Most of the kids still shooting were lying flat on the floor, shooting through the fancy marble poles that held up the banister. Bronc slipped his gun out, and aimed the barrel in the general direction of a statue of a half-nude woman.
He pulled the trigger.
Nothing happened. The gun didn't fire and the trigger didn't move all that far back.
He squeezed harder on the trigger, but it just would not move.