Memory Zero (Spook Squad 1)

He closed his eyes, then opened them again. No difference. He looked to his left and saw the long arm of a tree reaching toward him—and realized he was wrapped around it, arms and legs dangling on either side. That was what was biting into his gut—the shattered ends of a branch.

He twisted slightly and looked up. Smashed branches gave evidence of his descent, but the tree had undoubtedly saved his life. With the speed he’d been going, if he’d hit the ground, he surely would have died.

Somewhere off to his right, brush rustled. He stilled, listening. Something beeped, and then a voice rose from the silence like a ghost from the mist.

“I told you, I haven’t spotted a goddamn thing. You sure he came down this way?”

The silence seemed to stretch, jarring against his nerves. Then the searcher spoke again, closer this time. “Okay, okay. I’ll do another sweep.”

A man stepped into the clearing below him. Short brown hair, balding on top, and a hawklike nose. Danny Fowler, Gabriel thought, gun for hire. Danny had disappeared from the circuit five or six months ago, and like everyone else, Gabriel had presumed Danny’s violent past finally caught up with him. But if he was now working for Kazdan, then something big was going down. Fowler was a loner from way back.

He watched Fowler walk across the clearing and disappear into the thick shrub. After several seconds of silence, he grabbed the tree branch and flipped his legs over. Wood caught at his stomach, tearing deep gashes. More pain flared across his shoulders as his arms took the brunt of his weight. The tree branch dipped slightly, and the crack of wood splintering echoed across the silence, as sharp as a gunshot. Cursing softly, he dropped to the ground, landing catlike, his fingertips digging into the dirt to steady himself. Hot lances of fire shot up the backs of his legs, and moisture began to run down his spine. He ignored both, listening. Shrubs moved to his left. He ducked behind the trunk of the gum that had saved his life.

Fowler reentered the clearing, his gun—a standard laser rifle—raised, and his beady eyes narrowed as he sighted. He studied the clearing for several seconds, then relaxed and glanced up at the tree. Even from where Gabriel crouched, it was easy to see the understanding dawn in Fowler’s eyes. He had to act now, while he still had the advantage of surprise.

He launched himself at Fowler. The short man aimed and fired. The shot hissed through the air, burned past Gabriel’s ear and hit the tree trunk. But Fowler didn’t have time for a second shot, because Gabriel was on him, tackling him to the ground and forcing the weapon out of his grip. Fowler cursed and punched, his blows landing thick and fast. Pain rolled through Gabriel, but he ignored the blows raining on his body, and, with as much force as he could muster, chopped his hand down on Fowler’s windpipe. Fowler was dead before he knew what was happening.

Gabriel blew out a breath, climbed off Fowler’s body, and patted him down. There was a knife strapped to his left wrist and a small two-way in his right jacket pocket. He took the knife, squashed the two-way under his heel and stripped off Fowler’s jacket. Then he tore off the bloody remnants of his own shirt and dragged the body into the bushes.

Using what was left of his shirt, he wiped the blood off his stomach and back. The wounds on his stomach were a good quarter of an inch deep each, and oozing steadily. He could also feel a warm stickiness across his back and down the side of his face. Trophies from his descent through the tree, no doubt. There wasn’t anything he could do about the bleeding right now, other than hope there were no feline shapechangers in the immediate area; they’d smell his scent a mile off. He tossed the bloodied shirt on top of Fowler’s body and covered both with leaf litter.

After pulling on Fowler’s jacket and zipping it up, he grabbed the rifle and checked the laser’s charge. Nearly full. Good. He turned and made his way to the bushes where Fowler had first appeared. A faint path wound its way through the trees, heading down the hillside.

He followed it carefully, listening intently to the sigh of the wind, alert for any hint of pursuit or discovery. He was halfway down the hillside when several buildings became visible through the trees below. Squatting, he studied them. They looked like part of an everyday farm, only this farm had a helicopter pad, complete with a silver bird. It also had a sentry guarding the entrance to its driveway. The slight shimmer in the air near the guard’s box suggested the gates themselves were an energy field.

As he watched, a car pulled up to the guard’s box. The car’s windows were tinted so dark it was impossible to see the driver, meaning the passenger was possibly a vampire. The sentry walked across, talking to the driver for several minutes. Then he stepped back, and the shimmer of energy died.

The car drove on and came to a stop near the front porch. A woman climbed out, then hesitated, her gaze searching the hillside. Mary, Gabriel thought, surprised. Mary, who was supposed to be a vampire and yet was standing there in the full sunlight. She turned, studying the trees in which he hid. Perhaps she’d sensed his presence. She’d always been intuitive that way.

After several seconds, she headed for the front door and disappeared inside.

He continued down the hill. As he neared the fence, energy zipped across his skin, as sharp as a knife. He picked up a rock near his feet and gently tossed it forward. One foot away from the fence line, there was a sharp whine, then a flash of white light, and the rock shattered. The remaining dust drifted to the ground. He picked up another rock, this time aiming far higher. The result was the same.

So, they didn’t have only the front gate guarded by an energy field. The generators had to be either in the sheds or underground, because they weren’t anywhere that he could see. Given that the sky was also shielded, the front gate was obviously the only way in and out, at least until the generators were knocked off-line.

Which meant he’d have to take out the guard. Keeping low, he raced along the fence line until he was level with the sentry box. Then, getting down on one knee, he sighted the laser on the tree just behind the box and fired. There was a sharp crack, then the branch he’d aimed for fell almost gracefully to the ground. The guard scrambled out, weapon raised.

Gabriel sighted again and fired. The guard dropped and didn’t move. He waited several seconds, not sure whether there was a second guard inside. When no one appeared, he made his way down to the road.

The guard was dead, with a hole the size of a fist shot through his gut. But knowing the guard would have done the same to him given half a chance, Gabriel stepped over his body, feeling no remorse, and entered the sentry box.

A half-eaten sandwich and a tattered Playboy magazine rested on the shelf near a small com-screen. He moved over to the unit and watched the images flickering on the screen. Mary came into view, walking swiftly along a corridor that curved to the left, gradually taking her out of the camera’s sight. The image flickered and changed, this time revealing a room filled with coffin-shaped boxes. After several seconds it changed again, sweeping across the front of the farmyard.

No one was about—at least, no one he could see. He had no doubt there would be guards; it was just a matter of where. All he had to do was get into the house. He pressed a button on the com-unit. Nothing happened. The energy field remained in place.

“Computer, disengage gate.”

The computer hummed softly, and then a metallic voice said, “Please confirm identity.”

He swore softly, then spun and walked out to the fallen sentry. Ignoring the stench of burnt flesh, Gabriel rolled him over and patted him down. In the shirt pocket he found what he was looking for—a security tag.

He dragged the body back into the sentry box, then swiped the card. The computer hummed briefly but didn’t respond. He swore again, looked around some more, and saw the fingerprint scanner. He grabbed the guard’s right hand and slapped it against the reader. “Computer,” he repeated. “Disengage gate.”

“Gate disengaging. Twenty seconds before field is reengaged.”

He pocketed the security card, then headed through the gate. The farmhouse was as quiet as it had looked on the screen, and the closer he got to the old building, the more obvious it became that the house hadn’t been used in some time. The place smelled of neglect, dust and mildew. So why had Mary gone in there? And where had Kazdan gone? And the trucks?

He ducked past a window and walked quietly along the front porch, stopping near the door. Through the wire mesh he could see half a room. Faded daisy wallpaper hung in tattered strips from the walls, swaying gently in the breeze. Dust gathered in the corner, along with an old mousetrap, the bait long gone.