It was a little after thirteen-hundred when Freedom entered Shelly’s office. “Is it true, sir?”
Smith stood at the desk, looking at the dark puddle. “Yeah,” he said. “I just talked to Sorensen. He walked in on the woman, Stealth, beating Colonel Shelly to a pulp. He was lucky there were three of your men nearby who heard them.”
Freedom stood ramrod straight. “What’s the colonel’s condition, sir?”
“I haven’t seen him, but Sorensen says it’s critical. There may be...” Smith took a slow breath. “There may be brain damage. She beat his skull with those metal batons of hers.”
Freedom said nothing, but his jaw got tight and his knuckles whitened around his patrol cap.
“There’s a good chance he won’t make it,” said Smith. “You’ll forgive me for saying so, captain, but either way this means you’re in charge.”
“I’m aware of that, sir.” Freedom took in a slow breath of his own. “Do we have any idea why she did it?”
“If I had to guess... I don’t know, maybe she was angry we were going to be keeping Doctor Morris and the Cerberus suit here at Krypton. Maybe she thought she could kill him and they could all slip away in the confusion.” He shrugged. “I don’t know, does that even sound plausible to you?”
“More than plausible,” said the huge officer. His face twisted into a scowl. “She’s in custody?”
“Pierce and Hancock delivered her to the stockade five minutes ago.”
“Excellent,” said Freedom. “Then let’s get the rest of them.”
*
“Damn,” said St. George as the sirens started up. “I think those are for us. I guess Stealth’s talk with Colonel Shelly didn’t go too well.”
“Well, she’s such a fantastic diplomat,” muttered Danielle.
They ran between the buildings. He’d offered to fly them, but she pointed out they’d be exposed. So they were on foot and trying to stay out of sight.
They came to a wider intersection where the roads were paved. “This is it,” Danielle said, pointing left. “From what they told me, Sorensen’s lab is that way. Building nineteen, on the fourth floor. The building’s got the same layout as mine, his lab is right above where mine would be. Think you can find it?”
“I’ll manage. You sure you can make it to the workshop on your own?”
She fingered the collar of her camo jacket. “Doesn’t look like there are many soldiers out yet. I’ll blend in enough with my hair under the cap. Cerberus will be ready to go by the time you get there with Barry.”
“It better be,” he said. “I think we’re running out of time.”
“Have I ever been slow about getting back in the suit?”
“I’ll see you in an hour or sooner, then.”
She tugged her cap down, gave him a ragged salute, and marched down the road with her arms tight to her sides. St. George kept an eye on her until she’d passed two buildings, then headed in the opposite direction.
He could move faster on his own. If he focused on the spot between his shoulder blades he could feel gravity get weak. It let him move in quick, long strides. He crouched behind a parked truck as a Humvee sped down the road.
Building nineteen had a security keypad. St. George kicked himself for not asking if he’d need a code or something. He was sure he could force the door open, and just as sure it would set off an alarm if he did. Then he kicked himself again for being dumb.
The lock popped off as he pried the window open. As he suspected, the Army contractors hadn’t bothered to put alarms on the fourth floor windows. He slid it open the rest of the way, spun in the air, and slipped into the building.
He couldn’t hear much in the building. The faint rumble of air conditioning. A phosphorescent tube crackled somewhere. As far as he could tell, there were no voices, ringing phones, or any of the other sounds of life one would expect from a populated building. St. George slipped into the empty hall.
It took him about ten minutes to find Sorensen’s lab. It had his name on a small plate, along with three long words the hero couldn’t pronounce—two bios and a neuro. It also had another security keypad. He considered skimming around the outside of the building until he found a window into the lab, then realized Danielle was probably already at her workshop. If her numbers were right, she’d have the suit ready to assemble in twenty minutes.
He braced his feet, put his palm just above the latch, and pushed. The metal frame let out a little groan. The latch leaned in toward his hand and wrinkles appeared in the painted steel around his fingers. There were four quick pops from the hinges, a squeal of metal, and the door flew into the lab.