The tip of the barrel was fitted with her favorite flash suppressor and compensator, the Vortex by Smith Enterprises, which almost completely eliminated any flame or spark, keeping her position concealed while firing.
While she appreciated some changes, she didn’t appreciate all of them. For one, she would’ve replaced the vertical fore grip with an angled one that allowed her to grasp the barrel with her palm facing inwards, like she would hold a sword. The fore grip on this carbine encouraged poor body position and fatigue, a common mistake among special operations units. She planned to just ignore it and grasp the barrel how she wanted. It gave her better control and let her move naturally.
Nasira was doing it right now, aiming through her cubicle to check the holographic sight. She gripped the carbine near the very end of the barrel; fingers underneath and thumb over top.
Nasira seemed satisfied and let it hang from its sling. ‘Why you going after that one operative, anyways?’
‘The ruck,’ Sophia said. ‘Whatever is in that, they really want it.’
‘And now they have it. You think it was explosives for some other detonation?’ Nasira said.
Sophia pressed her lips together and realized how thirsty she was. She shrugged, leaned over a basin and drank from the faucet. She had a full water bottle in her ruck but she wanted to save it.
‘Hey guys, do you tuck your pants into your boots?’ Aviary called out.
‘Don’t worry about it,’ Sophia called out, wiping water from her chin. She caught sight of her menacing face paint in the mirror. ‘I should probably wash this off.’
‘How’s your concussion?’ Nasira said. ‘Chimera vector fixing it up?’
‘I feel better,’ Sophia said.
‘Sure you’re telling me everything?’ Nasira said.
Sophia wiped water from her lips. ‘I just did.’
‘You risked your life and ripped up half of Broadway just to stop people who might be Blue Berets from snatching a ruck that might have something dangerous inside while nine operatives circle like sharks,’ Nasira said. ‘Seems a little overkill.’
‘You might’ve missed it but they just blew up half of the upper west side. The morning news will be calling it the next 9/11,’ Sophia said. ‘I don’t know what’s in that ruck but it might be pretty damn important.’
Nasira still hadn’t blinked. ‘You’re a bad liar.’
‘I’m not lying,’ Sophia said. ‘Whatever it is, it’s dangerous.’
Nasira shook her head just slightly enough to notice. ‘You wanted the operative,’ she said. ‘You wanted to deprogram the operative, didn’t you?’
‘Look, if the opportunity arose,’ Sophia said. ‘We could find out what’s going on.’
Nasira raised an eyebrow. ‘’Cause those soldiers back there were real talkers, weren’t they?’
‘They don’t know anything,’ Sophia said.
‘Which is intentional,’ Nasira said. ‘So they can’t be interrogated by operatives — sorry, terrorists — like us.’
‘Aviary, you have the location?’ Sophia asked, still staring at Nasira.
‘Yeah, the Waldorf, if you can believe it,’ Aviary called out from her cubicle. ‘Maybe because it’s one of the first evacuated buildings so they think no one will bother checking … Sorry. Just … having some zipper difficulties. Hold up.’
‘It’s not about the ruck, is it?’ Nasira said. ‘This is an obsession. I don’t think you even know why you do it anymore.’
‘Because we need them,’ Sophia said.
‘You keep telling yourself that. Why?’ Nasira said. ‘To do what?’
‘To do anything,’ Sophia said. ‘Don’t you get it? We’re almost extinct.’
‘What happens when you have enough operatives?’ Nasira said. ‘Do you even know how many is enough? You even know what comes after it?’
‘No,’ Sophia said. ‘But I’ll know when I get there.’
Chapter 19
Damien helped Jay through the corridor, passing several suites and a library. They reached a sign that indicated elevators around the next corner. He just hoped the soldiers hadn’t beaten them to it. He heard voices as they approached. He held Jay back. Jay obviously hadn’t heard because he was annoyed by the sudden halt. Damien listened closer and realized there was some kind of authority — possibly police — steering guests and staff down to the lobby.
‘It’s an evacuation,’ Damien said quietly.
‘For what?’ Jay grunted.
Damien shook his head: he didn’t know. But the officers would be covering the elevator and stairs.
‘We have to go through them,’ Jay said.
‘Or with them,’ Damien said. ‘But first—’
Damien pulled Jay back so they wouldn’t risk being heard. Then decided to go even farther back given what he had in mind.
‘We have to take the arrow out.’ Damien pulled the tablecloth from a nearby display table.
Jay knew what was coming and unbuttoned his rented tuxedo. ‘Probably can’t return these now anyway,’ he said.
Damien looked up to see blood staining one entire side of Jay’s shirt. He held the back of the arrow firmly and snapped it as precisely as he could. It came away mostly clean. He picked off the frayed edges.
‘When you’re ready,’ Damien said.
Jay held the arrow just under the iron arrowhead. ‘Fuck you, arrow,’ he muttered. ‘Why can’t Kevlar stop arrows?’
Damien didn’t bother answering — Jay knew the answer. Their covert vests were designed for small caliber rounds, not bladed weapons. That would require a completely different type of armor, one that wouldn’t fit under a tuxedo.
Jay grunted and pulled the arrow forward through his shoulder. Damien could see him gritting his teeth, doing his best to not scream. He tossed the shaft across the hall in disgust. Damien helped Jay take his tuxedo jacket off and then wrapped the tablecloth under his arm and over his shoulder, pulling and tying it as firmly as possible. He took his own belt off and threaded it over the tablecloth, then picked up Jay’s discarded arrow and used the arrow point to create a new notch in the belt. He fastened the belt tightly over the tablecloth, using the fresh notch. That would have to do for now.
Jay pulled on his jacket and buttoned it over the belt. Damien checked him over. No sign of blood or injury, except perhaps for the tiny hole in the front and back of his tuxedo, revealing a tiny dot of tablecloth underneath. The belt bulged slightly across Jay’s shoulder.
‘That will have to do,’ Damien said.
Jay didn’t hesitate; he walked around the corner and was already calling out to the officers to ask what was going on. When Damien rounded the corner after him he realized why Jay had stopped speaking. They weren’t officers. Or perhaps they were, but they were dressed in black fatigues and carrying M4 carbines.
They appeared to be military or police paramilitary, except they wore black ballistic masks for protection. The masks covered their entire face, including the scalp and the back of their heads. The mask had only two circles for eyes and one thin vertical strip for speaking. Damien found this especially creepy.
‘We swept this level, where were you two?’ one soldier said.
‘Beekeeping,’ Jay said quickly.
The second soldier gestured to the open elevator. ‘It’s not safe. We’ll take you down.’
Damien didn’t need to be told twice. He moved past Jay into the elevator. Jay stood on the other side, his back to a wall so no one would see the hole in his jacket. The soldiers took one last look around before joining them. They stood behind Damien and Jay and asked Damien to press the button for the first floor. Damien did as requested.