Empire (Empire 1)

“Let’s not make these guys into supermen. Armor’s heavy and hot. If it’s really secure, with no gaps, these guys are dead on a hot June day like this is gonna be.” Reuben pointed toward one. “Yours. Try not to make a lot of noise.”

“They’re probably transmitting to each other constantly,” said Cole.

“So . . . not even a gurgle,” said Reuben.

It was a matter of stealth. And stealth meant patience as well as silence. No sudden movements that would catch the peripheral vision of any enemy soldier who had them even slightly in his field of view.

He tried to imagine who might be inside those suits. New guys who had never fought before? Or vets from the Middle East, fed up with the government and eager to use their training to overthrow it? Was he going to face some X-Box geek from Seattle or a killing machine from Fort Bragg?

Something in between. He had instant reflexes—the moment he felt Reuben’s hands on him, he started to move. But he hadn’t spotted Reuben coming. A killing-machine soldier would never have left so much of his field of view unattended for so long.

Because by the time Reuben’s hands were on him, it was already too late for the guy. He turned to the right, so Reuben turned his head sharply to the left and he dropped like a rock.

But inside that helmet, he might have said, “Hey.” Or something.

Or maybe not. Because the other guys didn’t show any alarm. Cole also got his man silently.

Not so lucky with the next guy. Reuben didn’t know whether it was his guy or Cole’s who gave the alarm, or maybe just a chance observation, but nobody was standing still to get their neck broken. But they weren’t shooting yet, either. Reuben still needed a silent weapon. The Uniball pen he always carried.

Reuben got his man down on the ground and put a knife into his throat under the jaw of the helmet faceplate. It took some wiggling to get the artery. The two remaining guards were shooting now. No doubt calling for reinforcements.

Reuben called to Willis and the

cops. “Fill your hands, you sons of bitches!”

Whether they got the movie reference or not, they understood the order and began firing. The bad guys’ body armor was good, but it wasn’t perfect. Reuben wasn’t sure that any of the cops’ bullets felled either of the remaining tunnel guards—he knew that he got one of them with his M-240 and Cole was certainly firing the Minimi, so he probably got the other.

Before the firing even stopped, Reuben had one of the helmets off a dead enemy soldier, and was stripping the body armor. “Go ahead!” he shouted to Willis. “If it’s our guys on the other end, identify yourselves and for pete’s sake tell them we’re coming!”

“And if it isn’t?”

“Then hide if you can and wait for us and our weapons.”

Cole was also stripping material off another soldier. “Cole!” shouted Reuben. “Take a thumb! We want to know who these guys are, not just what they’re wearing!”

It was grisly work. But they had to know what they were up against. Criminals? Ordinary civilians? The FBI needed a chance to make an ID.

Reuben knew they were done scavenging when they could hear the thud, thud of approaching mechs.

The cops were already out of sight down the tunnel. “I wonder if they’ll come down the tunnel after us,” said Cole.

“I’ve got a helmet and vest,” said Reuben. “You drop the ones you got. Keep the pants and the weapon.”

They each dropped their version of what the other was keeping, and ran on, that much lighter.

The cops just weren’t in Special Ops shape. They caught up with them before they reached the midpoint of the tunnel.

“Don’t leave us behind!” one of the uniforms shouted.

“Shut up,” said Willis.

“Not leaving you,” shouted Reuben. “Setting up a rear guard.”

There were no cars in the tunnel. Reuben and Cole set up in recesses in the tunnel wall, one well behind the other, on the opposite side. As the cops jogged and panted past them, Reuben called out. “Leave a relay chain to tell us when you get to the end so we know when to pull back!”

Willis gave a thumbs-up and kept jogging. Up the slope now. Steeper and steeper.

“There’s a lot of water over our heads,” called Cole.