"Are you logged onto the system as Mallory?"
Kendi left the locker room, and a transparent red arrow flashed across the bottom of his vision. It led him left, then straight, then left again. He kept his cap low. From time to time he passed other people, all human, and all of whom ignored him. Eventually, the arrow took him down another empty hallway to a large lift. The arrow changed into a number 5. Kendi used his card to board the lift and pressed the button for the fifth floor. Once the doors shut, he quickly shucked his coveralls, revealing a skin-tight black outfit beneath. Kendi replaced the tool belt around his waist and sprayed the coveralls. They disintegrated. Next he pulled a black mask and hood from the tool belt and checked the time on his ocular display. He nodded, satisfied.
It was time to make Roon pay.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
"We are stuck with what we've lived through. The trick is to finish it with a flourish and an outrageous sense of design."
Delta Maura's keycard opened the door with no trouble. The corridor beyond was empty-sleep cycle. Martina braced herself, then crossed the threshold.
Nothing happened. No shock, no pain, no alarms. She let out a small breath. Her shackles lay on the bathroom floor. There was no reason to believe anything would happen to her when she left her prescribed place, but a lifetime of conditioning could not be overcome in a few seconds of freedom.
Martina chose a random direction and went. The problem was, she had no idea where to go. She reasoned there had to be ways in and out of the place, though Martina had never seen them. She should probably avoid places she knew, since they'd be dead-ends. The kitchen would be a good place to start-food delivery had to come from somewhere. It might provide her an exit, if only she could find the place.
A sudden urge to go find Keith flooded her. She had a master unit. She could release his shackles and they could run together. A firm shake of the head forced the thought from her mind. Keith was lost to her. She would have to get out herself, then find a way to come back for him. And she would.
If she could get out.
Martina opened a door and found a concrete staircase. Up or down?
Down, she decided. Martina had always gotten the sense that the dumbwaiter in her room came from below, though she had never actually seen it move. In any case, it was something to go on.
She gathered the skirts of her robe in green-gloved hands and headed downward as quickly as she dared. Delta Maura's robe was wide for her and a bit short. Her footsteps echoed off the hard walls. The stairwell was warmer than the corridor, and it smelled like hot metal.
Martina jumped, but no one was there. The voice had come right into her ear. What had- Delta Maura's earpiece. Swallowing hard, Martina whispered, "Fine. Sorry. I forgot to check in."
"I thought I might get something to eat in the kitchen," Martina said, still whispering. The voice of a whisper wasn't recognizable.
"Of course." Martina tapped the earpiece, ending the conversation. Her heart was beating so fast it made her eyes pulse in time with it. At least she had gotten a valuable clue-the kitchens were on a lower level than the person who had spoken with her.
One level down, the staircase ended. Martina found a door and opened it with her keycard. Voices raised in conversation greeted her. The large room beyond seemed to be an employee dining hall, with rows of long tables and low-backed chairs. Perhaps two dozen people ate from cafeteria trays. Two of them were dressed in green robes identical to Martina's. Martina's first instinct was to flee, but she forced herself to remain in the doorway. None of the diners took the slightest notice of her.
Martina took a deep breath and started across the room. Food smells washed over her and her stomach growled, though she didn't feel at all like eating. The kitchen should be nearby. Martina found herself keeping to the edges of the room. Stupid. Anyone who saw a Delta walking as if she belonged there wouldn't think twice. Anyone who saw a Delta trying to sneak about would get suspicious. Martina forced herself to stride openly and firmly. Silverware clattered against plates and people continued to talk. How long before the people spying on her room got suspicious about the bathtub? How long before they sent someone else to check? Martina didn't know.
One of the Deltas looked up, noticed Martina, and waved her over. Martina's veins hummed with adrenaline. She gave a little wave of her own, pretending to misunderstand, and headed for a large set of swinging doors on the other side of the dining room. Before she could hesitate and lose her nerve, she pushed through them.
On the other side lay an industrial-sized kitchen, with row of gleaming work counters, metal doors, shelves of utensils. White-clad workers chopped and mixed and stirred bubbling pots. The place smelled of cheap meat and tomato sauce.
"Is there something you need, Delta?" asked a voice at her elbow.
Martina stifled a shriek and put a pleasant look on her face. A balding, red-faced man was looking at her inquisitively. An enormous butcher knife gleamed in his hand.
"I'm just looking for the cargo lift where the food shipments come down," she said, trying not to look at the knife. "I don't come back here very often."
"Back there," the man replied, pointing. Then, with a disinterested air, he turned back to his cutting board. The knife made meaty thunks.
Martina breathed an inward sigh at her luck. She hurried to the rear of the kitchen and through another set of swinging doors. Beyond them was a short hallway that ended at another lift, this one big enough to haul freight. It opened to her keycard, so she got in and checked the displays. The kitchen seemed to be in the basement, as she had guessed. There were five floors above her. Which one did she need? Not the first floor-she had just come from there. She thought a moment. Exits were more likely to be on one of the extremes. Fifth floor, then. Martina pressed the button. The lift came to life with a swooping noise that made her jump again.
After a long moment, the doors opened onto another plain corridor faced by several doors. No people in sight. Martina got out and looked for promising signs of an exit. None were in evidence. Martina ground her teeth in frustration. How the hell was she supposed to get out of here? There had to be a way.
The doors slid shut and the lift dropped. Martina thought about calling it back again, then decided against. A stairwell should be nearby-there it was-and she could easily try another floor. Maybe the exit was in the middle, on the third floor? But what if- The lift made a swooping noise behind her, and the display indicated it was climbing back up. It climbed fast, passing the fourth floor and halting at the fifth.
Gretchen fell backward with a grunt and crashed to the ground. The tray went flying. Food splattered ceiling, deck, and bulkheads as Isaac Todd planted another kick squarely in Gretchen's stomach. The breath whooshed out of her and she lay still. Without hesitating further, Todd sprinted off down the empty corridor, leaving his shackles on the floor behind him. After a long moment, Sister Gretchen Beyer stirred and slowly sat up. Her stomach hurt like hell and every breath burned like fire.
"Well, shit," she said.
Martina Weaver peeped through a crack in the stairwell door as the lift opened. A tall man dressed all in black slipped out and crept down the hall. The lower half of his face was covered with a mask, and he wore a close-fitting hood. A tool belt circled his narrow waist. Martina narrowed her eyes. It didn't take a genius to figure out that this was someone else who didn't belong here. And he probably knew a way out.
The man chose one of the doors, slipped a keycard through the lock, and went inside. Martina stood for a moment, torn by indecision. If she approached the man, he might be willing to let her follow him out in exchange for her silence. Or he might just kill her. All life, was this an opportunity or a trap?