Generation 18 (Spook Squad 2)
“He was nothing more than another test subject.”
“For your new drug?” she guessed. “An addictive and expensive replacement for Jadrone?”
“Yes. One that helps shifters without the hallucinations.”
“So why not sell it through regular channels? It’d be a huge hit on the open market.”
“Because it is not without its problems, and it’s deadly to both changers and humans. A drug like that would take years to get approval, if it ever did.” Dr. Francis hesitated, and a siren blasted through the hum of machinery. “Time for me to go. You, I’m afraid, must remain here. But don’t worry, you won’t have to wait long for death—twenty floors of an old high-rise are about to come crashing down upon your head.”
At least that explained the predawn activity. If the old tower was anywhere near a large number of office buildings, the demolition team would have been given clearance to work only between midnight and dawn.
“The chains that contain you are silver-coated,” Francis continued. “You cannot change shape until you escape them, my dear. And by then, death will be falling around your ears.”
“You won’t get away with this. The SIU doesn’t take kindly to someone killing their operatives.” She had no idea whether this was true or not, but, hell, it sounded good.
“By the time they find out you didn’t die in your apartment bombing, you will be dead and I will be long gone.”
The doctor stepped back and raised her arms, and her body blurred, briefly resembling putty being squeezed into a too-small tube. Then she became a budgie and flitted away through the darkness.
Sam glanced down at the chains. The two ends ran off into the darkness, one to her right and the other to her left. They were connected to hooks in the wall that kept the chains taut. All she had to do was unlatch one and she’d be free.
She lunged sideways. The chains around her waist bit deep, and breathing became difficult. She ignored it and tried to flick the end of the chain off the hook on the wall. It didn’t even budge. Cursing softly, she sat back up and grabbed hold of the chain. Taking a deep breath, she pulled back as hard as she could.
A muffled thump ran through silence, followed by a thick wave a dust. She coughed, and glanced up. A shudder ran through the ceiling above her, and cracks began to appear—spider-like lines that raced from the edges toward the middle.
Fear surged. Time was running out. She swore and pulled back on the chain again. The hook on the wall shifted slightly. Another muffled thump ran through the silence. Dirt and plaster began to rain down on her.
“Come on, you mother, come on!”
The hook came free with a sudden pop and sent her sprawling backward. At the same time, another muffled thump ran across the shattering darkness, closer this time. The ceiling above her groaned. The spider-like lines intermingled and the whole ceiling dropped.
She screamed and threw herself sideways. But the chains still restricted her movement and all she could do was throw her hands over her head and pray for a miracle.
GABRIEL HIT THE GROUND RUNNING. One section of the old high-rise had already been demolished. Dust rose in a wave, stinging the night sky with the scent of decay and death.
He wrenched open the door to the command center. The two men inside turned around, surprise eviden
t in their expressions. He flashed his badge. “You have to stop the demolition. We have an agent trapped inside the building.”
“I can’t. It’s automated.”
He grabbed the man’s shirt and dragged him close. “Listen very carefully. I have an agent trapped inside. I want the demolition stopped, and I don’t care how you do it.”
“Okay, okay,” the man stuttered. “We’ll try.”
“Don’t try. Just do it.” He thrust the man away from him, grabbed the flashlight that was sitting on a bench and headed back outside.
Another muffled explosion ran across the silence. The old building seemed to shudder, and then the west wing came down in an almost graceful silence. More dust rose into the sky.
He swore and ran for the central building, the area that had once housed the building’s basement. That was where she was.
The main doors were boarded shut, but several well-placed kicks soon fixed that. Dust rolled out to greet him, as thick as the darkness beyond the doorway.
He coughed, and turned on the flashlight. Another explosion rolled through the night, followed quickly by a muffled scream.
Sam. As yet unhurt by the falling debris.
He picked his way down the shattered corridor, heading for the emergency exit sign that gleamed brightly in the beam of the flashlight. The stairs beyond were a tangle of wood and jagged plasterboard. He shone the light upward. Part of the ceiling had collapsed. It wouldn’t take much to bring the whole lot down.