Memory Zero (Spook Squad 1)

He had to be here, somewhere. He wouldn’t be careless enough to arrive at the last minute and hope to get inside.

“And the PM?”

“Two minutes away.”

They didn’t have much time left. Nor could they delay the Prime Minister’s arrival much longer without the press figuring out that something was wrong.

“I’m heading up.”

“Be careful.”

That was one warning his brother didn’t need to give. He switched the audio off again. Then, keeping his back to the wall, he carefully eased up the stairs. From above came the brief mutter of conversation and the light winked out. He halted, listening.

Someone was walking down the stairs. He hunkered down in the corner of a landing and waited. The soft steps came closer. Whoever was approaching was making no effort to conceal his or her presence. Feet came into view—joggers so white they practically glowed in the darkness.

It was a teenager who looked barely old enough to be out of grade school. He wasn’t one of the security staff, nor was he one of the regular port staff, despite the fact that he was wearing an ID tag. Given the total lockdown, he had to be one of Kazdan’s men—though the term “man” was something of a misnomer in this case.

He was also apparently night blind, walking right past without so much as twitching. Gabriel rose swiftly and moved up behind the skinny youngster. Still no sign of awareness. Shaking his head at Kazdan’s stupidity, he clamped one hand over the kid’s mouth and grabbed the gun with his other.

“Move and you die,” he whispered into one diamond-studded ear.

The youngster froze, yet his entire body trembled. Where in hell had Kazdan got this one from—kindergarten? “Is the lady police officer upstairs? Nod if the answer is yes.”

The teenager swallowed convulsively and nodded.

“Is Kazdan upstairs?”

Another nod.

“How many other people? One nod per person.”

Five nods. Not good odds. Gabriel was fast, but he wasn’t a fool. He pressed the audio switch back on. “Byrne, the PM arrived yet?”

“Just now.”

“Herd him into the security center. I don’t care how or why, but get everyone else out. I’m coming in with a prisoner.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Maybe.” And maybe it was just plain suicide. Still, if Kazdan was already in the control tower, they had no other choice. He was obviously disguised, if the sharpshooters on the roof couldn’t see him. Someone had to go

in. “I’ll explain when I get there. We’ll need some duct tape, knives, a few Kevlar suits, a Holcroft laser or two, and a few packets of blood.”

“Nice shopping list. I’ll see what I can do.”

Gabriel nudged the teenager. “I’m about to take my hand from your mouth. Make any sort of noise and you’re dead. Okay?”

The kid nodded again. Gabriel pushed him down the rest of the stairs, and then he urged him into a run at the bottom. He had a horrible feeling time was running out. He had to get upstairs before it was too late—for Sam, more than anyone else.

SAM CAME TO SLOWLY. Something warm and sticky pasted her shirt to her chest, pulling at her skin when she shifted. Her shoulder burned—a deep-set ache that pounded through her body, churning her stomach into knots.

“Shame to waste all that blood,” Jack commented, amusement evident in his soft tone, “but I really don’t have time for a snack right now.”

She opened her eyes. She was lying on her side on the control tower floor, her back resting against a metal panel. Jack stood to her right, arms crossed, leaning casually against a well-lit radar screen. Two men stood near the elevator, and another two guarded either end of the semicircular window. All five were wearing State IDs—courtesy of the soon-to-be-dead Wetherton, or some other high-placed clone, no doubt.

The real tower staff lay in a heap near the bathroom door. Her gaze skated over them quickly, and she grimaced. By the look of the woman lying nearest to her, Jack had already indulged in a snack or two.

She eased upright. The fire in her shoulder became an inferno, and she hissed. Sweat broke out across her brow, and warm moisture began to trickle down the inside of her shirt. Gingerly, she cradled her right arm in her left and glared up at her former partner.