She remained unruffled. “I would not have met with you if I hadn’t already decided to throw my lot in with yours. We succeed or fail together, now. Do not let me down.”
The weight of responsibility settled around me. Now I had two people counting on me. And while I was sure both of them would be fine without me, I always felt responsible for those in my care. According to my father, it made me a terrible von Hasenberg.
We separated and left through different entrances. Veronica promised to contact me tomorrow when she had all of the items I’d requested. That left me the rest of the day to do my initial prep work.
I turned off the insecure com Loch had bought for me. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust Veronica; it was that I didn’t trust anyone. Leaving the com off meant it couldn’t be tracked. It also meant she couldn’t contact me in an emergency, but the trade-off was worth it. I wouldn’t sleep if I had to worry about a sneak attack.
The detention center was at the edge of the central commercial district near the spaceport. It also matched up with where Loch’s tracker went silent. So either they were being super careful to make it look like Loch was being held, or he actually was being held. The trick was figuring out which before I barged in and got myself killed.
I cut through the opposite side of the central district from where I needed to be, using the same invisible walk I’d used to walk within a meter of Richard. No one paid me any mind.
I came at the detention center from a diagonal. Without a clear line of sight down the streets, I could get closer before I risked discovery. Six blocks away, I slipped into a narrow alley. It had been wider until some enterprising soul had extended their business.
The close walls worked for me, though, and I climbed to the roof without breaking a sweat. I kept the chimney between me and the detention center. I didn’t think Richard’s team would be surveying this far out, but underestimating them was a one-way ticket to Captureville.
I’d never been a quitter—it wasn’t in my DNA—but I was looking forward to the days when I wouldn’t be stuck on a cold, dark roof trying to figure out if my current favorite fugitive was being held captive inside the building in the distance, all while avoiding an entire city of mercenaries.
For now, I had to be careful. Because if I could see the detention center, anyone there could see me, too. I flattened myself to the roof and crawled around the chimney. With the chimney behind me, my silhouette wouldn’t be as noticeable. Probably. Hopefully.
The buildings in this area were all originally single-story, so only chimneys and creative mud-block additions obscured my view of the detention center. The center took up an entire block and had a wide-open plaza around it. It offered no cover and no reason to approach.
I pulled out the digital scope Veronica had given me as we left—it was the first item on my list. Staying as low as possible, I quickly scanned the detention center’s roof. I didn’t see anyone, but I did see a shit-ton of cameras. There would be no access from the roof unless I wanted the whole city to know when I’d arrived.
Until I got the blueprints, there was no way to know if underground access was a possibility, but based on everything I saw, I would assume not. So I’d have to waltz up to the front door, break in, break Loch out, and waltz back out again before reinforcements arrived.
Right. No problem.
The spotters here were either too well hidden, nonexistent (unlikely), or hidden behind some of the surrounding roof adornments that blocked my view, because I couldn’t find any of them, even after watching for two hours.
I stretched sore muscles and crept back around the chimney. Climbing down was way more difficult than climbing up. Luckily foot traffic in this area was low and no one wanted to risk the dark, narrow alley.
I took a fairly straight path out of the central district. I wasn’t headed in the direction of the house, so I was not concerned about covering my path just yet. I had nearly made it when three men stumbled out of a building in front of me. They weren’t Rockhurst soldiers, so I ignored them.
They did not return the favor.
“Hey, buddy, got any creds?” the one in front slurred. “Help a brother out. That bastard kicked us out.” He was stocky, with dark hair, and he reeked of the distinctive chemical odor of cheap synthol and tobacco. His two lankier buddies were in even worse shape, leaning against each other just to stay vertical.
Whoever “that bastard” was, he or she should’ve kicked them out a long time ago, even though the night was still young. They were all six sheets to the wind and it wouldn’t take much to push them over the edge into violence. Especially if they got kicked out because they were broke. Nothing made a drunk meaner than taking away the booze.
I kept my head down and stepped around the men. Stocky didn’t appreciate my lack of enthusiasm. “Hey, buddy, I’m talking to you!”
“Sorry,” I said gruffly.
“If you’re not going to help us out, I guess we’ll just have to help ourselves,” he said. He pulled a wicked-looking blade and suddenly his companions looked a whole lot more sober. Fantastic.
I backed away but Lackey One flashed a blast pistol. Running just became a non-option. “Hey,” I said, “I don’t want any trouble.”
Stocky squinted at me. “You a woman?” A lecherous grin spread across his face. “Looks like our luck’s changed, boys.”
I stood straight, throwing off my invisible persona. It hadn’t protected me, so I needed a new plan. “I do not have time to deal with you right now. Move,” I said in my most commanding tone.
Stocky took a half step back before straightening his own spine and closing the distance between us, waving the knife in his right hand. It would’ve been more threatening if he came up higher than my chin. Still, I could work with this.
I ignored what his mouth was saying—it was hardly polite—and watched his body language. The next time the knife came my way, I struck. I clamped my left hand onto the wrist of his knife hand and pulled it across my body to the right. Without releasing his wrist, I used my right hand to deliver a fast, sharp blow to the back of his hand. He dropped the knife.
The synthol reek must not have been entirely fake, because his reflexes were slow. I pulled him the rest of the way between me and his lackeys, then transferred my grip to the back of his collar. I drew my pistol and jabbed him in the kidney with it.
It took less than five seconds.
The lackey with the pistol gaped at me. He tentatively raised the pistol, but lowered it again when Stocky frantically shook his head.
“Now you’ve made me late,” I said, “and I hate being late.”
“We didn’t mean nothing,” Stocky whimpered.
“Oh, I think we both know that’s a lie. And you know what else I hate? Liars. So, this is your last chance to get in my good graces. Tell your friends to drop their weapons.”
I could tell by the way he stiffened that he had a plan that didn’t involve dropping the weapons. I mourned in the second before he moved. Then I let him go as he dropped down toward the knife on the ground. Lackey One brought his blaster up, but not fast enough. I shot him through the chest.
Lackey Two broke and ran. I let him go. It was a bad tactical decision, but I just couldn’t shoot him in cold blood. And unless he had reinforcements in the next block, I’d be gone before he returned.
Stocky lunged at me with the knife. I shot him point-blank. The energy bolt punched a hole through his head.
I scanned for new threats. No one had come to investigate, but that luck wouldn’t hold for long. I steeled my emotions and quickly searched both men, being careful not to leave fingerprints. I took the blaster and extra energy cells from the lackey. Nothing else was worth stealing.
I left the two men sprawled on the ground and faded into the shadows.
Chapter 11