The Chemist

Finding things out was her specialty, after all.

Attacking was not, but that just meant it would not be expected. Hell, she was more than a little surprised herself.

The hunters didn’t know about the Batcave, or they would have been waiting for her here. They didn’t know about the resources she had access to.

If she thought this through at all, she would probably change her mind. But she was high on her own adrenaline now, and trying to make the smart choices. Not just the ones that would save them tonight, but that would save them tomorrow and the next day. She couldn’t make the right choices if she didn’t have the right information.

“Running would probably be safest in the short term,” she answered.

“Then?”

“I haven’t had this chance before—to interrogate one of the assassins sent for me. The more I know about who they are, the safer we’ll be in the future.”

A second passed.

“You’re not leaving me behind,” he stated evenly.

“No, I need your help. But only on one condition.”

He nodded.

“You have to do exactly what I say. I don’t care if you like it or not.”

“I can do that.”

“You have to stay in the car.”

His head jerked back just a little, then his lips tightened.

“Exactly what I say,” she repeated.

He nodded again, not pleased. She was not convinced he meant it.

“I’ll need you to cover me,” she explained, “and the Humvee is the best place for that. You can’t watch my back if someone shoots you. Okay. This is going to get ugly. Can you handle that?”

“I’ve handled ugly.”

“Not like this.” She paused for a second. “My best guess is that these guys think they’re here for Kevin and you. There’s a chance I’m already dead, as far as the people who matter are concerned. That means I have to do things differently than I usually would. I can do only those things that Kevin could do. It’s going to be old school, and we won’t be able to leave any survivors.”

He swallowed, but nodded once more.

“All right, take the night-vision goggles, you’re driving.”

She truly wished he didn’t have to see what was coming—to see her the way she was going to have to be—but there was no help for it now.

As they drove carefully through the barn door, the dogs silent in the back of the Humvee except for some heavy breathing, she could feel herself changing, getting ready. It was going to be both ugly and very, very messy. That was, if they didn’t get her first.

She pulled a small syringe from a bag in her pack. Her last, but then, if she didn’t use it now, she might not live to need it another night.

“Do you trust me?” she asked him.

“Yes.” The way he said it gave unusual weight to the simple affirmative.

“I’ve got only this one dose left, so we’re going to have to share a needle, like junkies. My blood’s clean, I promise.”

She stabbed herself in the leg and depressed the plunger a little less than halfway. Daniel was bigger than she was.

“What is it?” he asked nervously.

She’d forgotten. He didn’t like needles. “A synthesis of dextroamphetamine and an opioid—kind of like… adrenaline and painkillers. It will help you keep going if you get shot.” Anywhere but the head or heart, she didn’t add.

He nodded, and then very carefully kept his eyes forward as she stabbed him through his jeans and into his thigh. He didn’t wince. She pushed the rest of the solution into his body. It was enough to last for thirty minutes at most.

“How well can you see?”

“Surprisingly well.”

“Can we go faster?”

He stepped on the gas as his answer.

“When you’re in place,” she instructed, “get in the backseat and crack open these little side windows. Shoot anything human that isn’t me. I shouldn’t be hard to pick out—I’ll be a lot smaller than anyone else you’ll see.”

His lips tightened again.

“You stay in here no matter what, you got that?”

He nodded.

“Are you going to have a problem shooting these people?”

“No.” He said it forcefully, then clenched his teeth.

“Good. Anything goes wrong—your gun jams, someone gets into the Humvee somehow, whatever, you throw a grenade out the window. That’s the signal that you need help. Do you know how to use a grenade?”

“What’s your signal?”

“Huh?”

“If you need my help, what’s your signal?”

“My signal is stay in the car, Daniel. The grenade?”

“I think so,” he grumbled.

“This might take a little while, so don’t get antsy. I won’t start an interrogation until I have everything secured. Oh, pull the goggles off before you throw a grenade, or close your eyes. Look out for flares—they’ll blind you.”

“Got it.”

Suddenly, a phone rang.

Daniel jumped a foot, hitting his head on the low ceiling.

“The hell?” Alex shouted.