Medusa (NUMA Files 8)

Austin focused on the moving right arm. Through the material of her loose-fitting silk sleeve, he caught faint glimpses of the brick wall behind her.

“You’re right,” he said. “She’s nothing but a projection, like Max,” referring to the name Hiram Yeager gave to the holographic personification generated by his interactive computer.

The Dragon Lady noticed Austin’s grin and stopped her tirade.

“You are a strange man, Mr. Austin. Don’t you fear the prospect of death?”

“Not from someone who’s no more real than a comic strip.”

“Enough!” she snarled. “I will show you how real I am. My brother Chang awaits your arrival. He will make sure your death is long and painful.”

She issued an order in Chinese, and the guards moved in. “Wait a minute,” Austin called out. “What if I can produce Dr. Kane?”

She barked a second order, and the guards froze in their tracks.

“You said that Kane was in protective custody,” she said, “and couldn’t be reached.”

“I was lying . . . I do that a lot.”

“That’s true,” Zavala threw in. “Kurt is one of the biggest liars I know.”

Austin gave Zavala a sidelong glance that told him he was laying it on a bit too thick.

“Let me make a phone call,” Austin said, looking back at the Dragon Lady, “and I’ll set him up.”

Austin was trying to buy time, hoping to talk his captors into freeing him from his chair. His immediate plan was to grab a gun. It was a throw of the dice, but was all that he had.

“A futile effort, Mr. Austin,” she said. “I no longer care whether Kane lives or dies. His project is near completion and his services are not needed . . . Good-bye.”

Austin expected the Ghost Devils to move in again, but they had hoisted their weapons high on their chests and were staring toward the rear of the warehouse.

The hologram shimmered.

“What is that?” she asked.

In answer, an amplified voice came from outside.

“This is the FBI. Throw your weapons aside and come out with your hands up.”

It was a woman’s voice, speaking through a bullhorn.

Gordon Phelps had been off to the side, watching the exchange between Austin and the hologram. He stepped out of the shadows and into the spotlight. He yelled a command in Chinese to the Ghost Devils, then in English said to Austin and Zavala, “Don’t go away, boys.”

Then he and the guards ran back toward the loading-dock door.

Austin and Zavala exchanged a glance.

“No time like the present,” Austin said.

He jerked his wrist against the cuff, rose from his chair, and dragged it behind him, moving toward the Dragon Lady. After a few steps, he raised the chair to his chest, with the legs sticking out straight in front.

Zavala followed suit and got his chair into a similar position.

Together, they charged the table.

An actual person would have ducked or run for her life. But the system of camera, projectors, microphones, and computers that were the lifeblood of the holographic projection were not endowed with human instinct.

The figure seemed frozen in place. Only the facial features changed, and Austin and Zavala almost hesitated when the Dragon Lady morphed into a fierce-eyed man wearing a scarlet silk hat, then a series of fearsome male and female faces. Then the last face fuzzed at the edges and broke up into a cloud of swirling and sparkling motes.