Deadly Game: Lancers, #2

By P R Adams

No problem has ever been too big for Mariana. Until now.

When religious fanatics take control of a town on a frontier colony world, Mariana's team of Lancers must try to rescue the only person who can bring back order.

Lies, schemes, and dark secrets quickly put Mariana to the test. When she discovers the web of intrigue behind her hiring, she realizes that no one can be trusted and that the mission is untenable.

But she has reasons of her own for taking this job and can't just walk away.

Can Mariana uncover the truth behind the strange goings on, or will her own secrets be her undoing?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Promethean Tales
• Release date: Apr 14, 2019
• ISBN: 9781386868347

Book preview

Deseret

Deseret stretched like a silvery web in the night, delicate strands running from the night-black river to the north to the eastern bay, disappearing into the southern desert and western plateau. Mariana leaned out of the helicopter’s open passenger bay hatch, one hand locked around a support handle, the other around her HuCorp 10xC-1 assault carbine Hornet. Her black hair undulated around her face, all but invisible against her Specter suit. Tourist Town—the southern section of the city—truly flared to life when she lowered her night-vision on. The sounds of the busy nightlife floated up in the absence of the rotor wash she had come to expect. Music thumped and whistled, and partygoers let out raucous shouts and whoops. She could imagine the aromas of food and drink on the salty sea breeze, even if she couldn’t actually smell them over the engine exhaust.

Clever design could eliminate a lot of the aircraft noise, but there wasn’t enough technology available to fully eliminate the exhaust. Not at the price they could afford to spend on transportation and on the schedule they faced.

The pilot hugged the coastline, flying dark through the warm night air, curving east or west when the land did.

A hand on her shoulder brought her around: Renny.

She pushed the visor up onto her helmet, then scanned the other two Lancers hunched low in the bay, watching them. They had the same sort of look she and Renny did: copper-gold skin, dark hair. But they were paler and big, especially Gustavo. And the way their eyes lingered on her button nose and soft lips said all she needed to know about what they thought of her.

Two minutes. She caught the irritation in her own voice and winced.

I can see. Renny tugged something from inside his armored vest: a gold crucifix. He kissed it. You are worried. I am not used to seeing this in you.

It is this contract situation.

He smirked. Two contracts. One way or another, we will be paid.

But they’re not published to the Grid. What if something—

We have contracts. And we have support from someone very powerful on the Assembly. That’s what matters.

Her dark eyes flashed to the other men at the back of the bay. Where she was long and slender, like Renny, the others were brutish. Those two are going to be trouble.

Gustavo and Orlando? Renny chuckled.

They resent me.

They resent anyone more capable than them. But they’re strong. Like bulls, you see? He pretended to flex. So we need them.

He left unsaid what he probably thought: She was pretty and needed to get used to men appreciating that.

Or was that what was behind the strange look in his eyes?

She couldn’t be sure, not with her spotty memories.

Those memories were of fighting her whole life to earn the respect of her peers. She’d built a team of people who knew her capabilities and came to count on her as a leader and tactician.

The helicopter turned north. One minute.

She checked her weapon. It was a proven design that Renny liked. Reliable. Like her old team. You don’t go into dangerous missions with anything unproven. Success relied on practice, precision, and discipline.

The two bulls lacked any of that.

Her team had…

She gritted her teeth. They were gone, lost on Azure. Before she could see the mission through, before she could find what she had sought for so long.

They were close now, though. Very close.

Lights sped along the beachfront road below—three sets, close together, moving quickly. The throaty rumble of powerful engines became clear as the helicopter descended and turned inland.

Thirty seconds.

Renny leaned out past her, shoulder brushing against her chest, watching the speeding vehicles. She flinched, then relaxed. It wasn’t some silly attempt to take what wasn’t on offer, as if there were anything meaningful in brushing against her with the Specter armor. It was the slightest of pressure, not something sexual.

She had to remind herself that they had known each other for nearly ten years. He had trained her, never taken advantage of her, been the Major who made her his Captain. What they had that went beyond that, it was separate from the job.

He pulled back in, frowning. They are running late.

There were people in the street, blocking their way. The tourists apparently had no fear of vehicles.

Eduardo and José know better. They should have left earlier.

She could picture the two of them—Eduardo with his pale brown eyes sunk deep in a chubby face and thick torso already going as soft as his beefy arms, and José with his weasel profile made more rodent-like by a thin mustache and beady eyes. They would be hunched forward, squinting at the pedestrians and cursing.

Renny was right: They should know better, yes. But they didn’t.

Their target loomed ahead—three stories high, a dull white in the security lights lining the roof and wide parking lot. There weren’t any vehicles parked in front, and only two utility vehicles on the south side.

That matched the intelligence Renny had been given, which was a good start.

The pilot twisted around. Descending to ten meters.

There was a choppy, faintly Japanese accent to his raspy voice; at least it sounded that way to Mariana over her staticky earpiece.

Booba. What sort of name was that? As hard to figure as his face—a dark gold, doughy glob with wide nose, and big eyes beneath heavy black brows. He was actually skinny, but especially with his helmet on, his head looked huge.

Renny flashed a thumbs-up at the pilot, then dragged a coil of black rope from the front of the bay. He hooked the blackened plastic eye at one end of the rope to a hook just inside the open hatch, then widened his stance slightly as the helicopter dropped. As it settled into a hover, he tossed the coil out the hatch; the rope plunged through a small cloud of sand whipped up by the rotor wash, then hit the rooftop.

He tapped her shoulder. Go!

The search of years was edging toward conclusion.

Insertion

Mariana was a slice of black, sliding down in the starless night. Her hands skimmed along the rope as fast as the palm rollers could safely manage. Hitting the roof too fast risked injury—if not for her, then at least the others. Did she care about Gustavo and Orlando? No. But she cared about Renny, and the other two were necessary for the mission as he’d planned it.

Sand caught in her mouth as she landed—gritty, that strange taste that wasn’t a taste. She spat it clear, brought her Hornet around, then hustled away from the rope, careful to hop over the extra length coiled in the dark.

Not too far, she reminded herself.

Shangri-La’s slightly lower gravity took some getting used to, especially for her, and the downward pressure of the rotor wash complicated things.

Gustavo came next, boots crashing with a solid thud. He grunted, stumbled a couple steps, then hopped clear of the ropes.

Clumsily. He was a big oaf.

His simple armor was painted a deep gray, unlike her pitch-black Specter suit. She’d seen the inserts he was using, which added about twenty kilos. Good enough to stop small arms fire. She had the same protection at about half the mass and with a lot more flexibility.

He lumbered toward the rooftop hatch, barely giving her a glance as she squatted near the western wall to watch the highway.

Eduardo’s and José’s black utility vehicles were blue-white diamonds growing faster as they accelerated northward. Epi’s trailed slightly.

She lowered her helmet visor and let her earpiece paint the armored surface with the imagery of the combat system’s augmented reality data. A cyan wireframe overlaid the building. Gustavo became a green square behind and to the left, the helicopter a larger green rectangle above her with two smaller green squares inside. Gustavo’s name—GUS—sat above the square’s upper left corner.

Orlando’s green square—ORL—dropped from the helicopter and hurried toward Gustavo.

A few seconds later, the helicopter climbed away, and Renny joined them.

She smiled at the MAJ labeling his green box.

Planning operations like the one they were running was a skill that took years to master. She had learned a lot from him but was still learning even now. A part of her loved that there was still knowledge to acquire in life. After so long—

Hey, Major! Eduardo screamed unnecessarily over their connection.

Mariana frowned. Major was her code for Renny, something his people had used for years. Eduardo and his Lancers had appropriated it.

Renny wasted no time. You have put the mission behind schedule.

Almost there. Thought you’d want to know Tobias is getting chatter.

What kind of chatter?

Over the security channel. Something about another group of suicides.

"Mierda! We can’t wait! Mariana…"

She brought up the familiar systems interface and accessed the Shangri-La Grid, then the Deseret subsection. When she had the building they were on located, she unleashed the thousands of bots she had queued, all hungry for the control systems. Seconds later, the rooftop security lights winked out, followed shortly by the parking lot floods.

Security systems…down.

Nothing but emergency lights remained now.

Renny tapped the door, and Gustavo popped it with a pry bar.

The lead utility vehicle exited Coastal Highway and sped onto the frontage road that would bring it to the parking lot entry.

Noise! A door in the stairwell! Renny waved for Gustavo to close the hatch.

Could someone have heard the rooftop hatch being breached? Possibly. If they were high enough up in the building and close to a stairwell door. Once all the power shut down in the building, it would be very quiet.

The second vehicle was on the frontage road now. Tires screeched as Eduardo angled the first vehicle past the ghostly gray fountain that dominated the center of the parking lot.

A green square appeared over the driver’s side window: EDU—Eduardo.

The rear door opened, and two dark forms jumped out: DOM—Domingo and LUP—Lupe. They were smaller men who could pass for brothers, both with big noses and receding hairlines. A third exited the front passenger door and fell in close behind the others. That was Manuel—MAN. He was a mousey man, with thinning hair, crooked teeth, and bugged-out eyes. Insecure and clumsy, he was a follower and not much else.

They were Eduardo’s people. Cheap.

Gunfire erupted and glass exploded.

The lead form—DOM—stumbled, then fell.

LUP and MAN dropped prone. A second later, the strange chatter of their submachine guns and the momentary burst of muzzle flash announced they were returning fire.

Mariana glanced over the edge of the roof. Major, security at the front door. Domingo’s down.

Renny waved for the roof hatch to be opened again, then leaned in close to her. They’re moving down. We go now!

If people were hurrying down the stairs, they hadn’t heard them. She waited until the two brutes were out of sight, then dashed to the hatch, lifted her visor, and muted her earpiece as Renny hesitated on the top step.

He edged up to her. You are concerned?

They just happened to have people watching the front parking lot?

He studied the stairs for a heartbeat, then nodded. He hurried down the steps, and a few seconds later, he said, Everyone, intelligence may be incorrect. There could be more security on duty than expected. Lupe, how’s Domingo?

Lupe replied, but gunfire drowned out his words. After a second, he transmitted again. Dom’s bleeding bad. They got a whole team at that—

More gunfire.

Mariana froze. She could drop down the front of the building and deal with those in the entry without much risk, but it would put so much about who she was at risk…

She followed Renny down the steps.

Below, Gustavo and Orlando stomped with all the finesse of drunken wildebeests. So long as the gunfire continued, they wouldn’t be noticed, but someone could burst into the stairwell at any moment. There would be no missing the noise then. She stayed close to the walls, watching the doors as she descended.

Gustavo stopped at the first-floor door, left arm raised, fist bunched: Halt.

Orlando pressed himself against the wall to the left of the door; his head was turned to Renny and Mariana.

Renny squeezed past the other two and pressed a hip against the door. On three.

Mariana hunched low. The wireframe showed a hallway beyond the door. It ran left about twenty-five meters before intersecting another hallway and the lobby. It ran to the right a few meters, then hooked right again for another ten meters before cutting left and ending at an external door. There were offices on the opposite side of the hall, bathrooms immediately to the left of the stairwell.

Their intelligence source had said there were only supposed to be a few guards on duty, certainly not enough for some to be up on the second or third floor. And to have a group in the lobby?

It was the suicides.

Renny looked at her. He could obviously see the concern in her eyes because his reflected disappointment. "We want this, sí?"

Desperately.

Then trust me.

He slammed his hip against the door bar and burst into the hallway.

Then gunfire boomed, and he staggered sideways.

Gustavo flinched and stumbled backward.

Brave man. Mariana launched herself from the fourth step. She crashed into the door before it could slam shut the rest of the way, then fell to the marble hallway floor and skidded across it.

Through Renny’s blood.

Three men to her left, two armed with shotguns, another armed with some sort of assault weapon.

Negligible armor.

She squeezed off a burst with her Hornet before they could react.

The one with the assault weapon doubled over.

Another burst dropped the middle man as he lowered his shotgun.

The third had his barrel leveled at her when she banked off the wall. The weapon thundered, tearing away a section of plaster and cracking the floor tile.

Mariana had already rolled away.

The man’s pale eyes widened in disbelief, but he fired again.

Too late.

She had already abandoned the Hornet and tumbled around the corner, noting as she flipped over Renny the way blood was pooling beneath him.

Lots of blood. Too much to be a light wound.

Once she had the wall between her and the last guard, she pulled a knife from a sheath on her hip. The blade was as black as the hilt, as black as the Specter armor. Crafted from a ceramic harder than any steel and with an edge that could slice through almost any material, she had no worries about whether it could take the guard down. How long would he—?

No waiting.

His clumsy, oafish booted steps clopped on the tiles as he leapt over Renny, then the barrel poked around the corner.

She grabbed the end and shoved it away.

The guard hissed and fired.

She yanked the barrel toward her. Hard.

He stumbled forward, and his pale eyes widened even more as the knife went in under the light vest he wore. A high-pitched whimper slipped between his lips as the blade slid around in his guts.

He dropped, shaking, shotgun clattering beside him.

She sheathed the knife and stomped on his right forearm, snapping it. He wasn’t a threat anymore.

Then she went to a knee beside the Major. Renny? Hey?

His eyes fluttered open. Blood lined his lips. But he focused. He knew who he was looking at. Walked into that.

They shouldn’t have been there. Something—

Gunfire. From the stairwell.

Orlando banged the door open, cursing. "Mierda! Coming in from above."

Gustavo limped into the hallway, hand clutching his chest.

She couldn’t see blood. You hit?

He nodded and slapped the armored plates of his vest. M’okay.

Bullets punched through the door just as he stepped clear of it. At the other end of the hallway, two more forms ran toward them.

They were pinned in.

Unless they fled. There was a door behind them, down the hallway where the shivering security guard was bleeding out, then to the left.

Renny seemed to sense her thoughts. Hey, Captain, you in this?

Yes. She dragged him around the corner. You two, here.

Orlando froze at the sight of the guard, then snorted unconvincingly.

Tough guy.

Gustavo licked his lips, eyes darting from Renny to where the hallway hooked and led to the door. Hey, he make it? We should go, maybe?

Renny’s lips quivered and a look she couldn’t recall settled on his face: desperation.

She scooped up the shotgun and blasted the stairwell door as it opened. Someone inside screamed, and the damaged door swung shut. The guards at the end of the hall dropped low and darted for the lobby.

They had a moment, which was all Mariana needed. We finish the job.

There are too many—

I’ll deal with it. You keep Renny alive.

He dies.

She pinned the big man to the wall with the shotgun. Keep him alive, or this will be your last job. You understand?

He nodded.

Under control.

But the two big oafs were the least of her worries. Her route to Eduardo’s and José’s vehicles was blocked. She couldn’t even see the green square of Epi’s vehicle.

There were too many guards, and time was running out.

Pissing Contest

The problem was the team in the stairwell. Mariana couldn’t get to the lobby with another group of guards behind her, but getting to them meant exposing herself to gunfire.

With Orlando tending to Renny’s wounds, she turned back to Gustavo. How many did you see?

In the stairwell? The burly man puffed his cheeks. Two. Three.

Which was it, two or three?

He shrugged. Nonchalant. Challenging.

Weapons? Shotguns? Rifles? Gustavo?

Does it matter?

It matters.

"Assault rifles. Mostly. Too much for you, sí?" He smirked.

Always with the macho bullshit, Eduardo and his people. She would deal with it later. Eduardo, I don’t see Epi’s signal.

Gunfire rattled through Eduardo’s mic. —overshot the frontage—

He overshot the frontage road?

"Sí, sí. Said—"

The gunfire grew deafening, both inside the building and over the connection. Glass shattered. Something cracked—the vehicle’s shell?

Someone had a big gun. The smell of gunpowder was acrid, sharp.

Eduardo cursed. How many they got inside there, huh?

A lot more than they should have.

Their intelligence was bad, maybe just stale. Adel had been confident. He had his eyes and ears in the city.

His eyes and ears were wrong.

But Renny had been warned when they’d taken the contract just how fluid and unpredictable things were in Deseret.

Mariana popped her head around the corner just long enough to get off a couple shots with the shotgun. Two heads that had been poking around from either side of the lobby had disappeared again.

Hey! This is a bust, no? Eduardo’s voice was shaky.

No.

Low footprint, high speed—that is what you said.

That’s changed. Mariana glanced down at Renny. His eyes were squeezed shut, but she imagined at some level he was wondering like her whether they’d been sold out or if something big had changed.

Suicides. Something big had changed.

Eduardo shrieked as more glass shattered somewhere near him. "They are tearing us apart, pequeña hermosa."

Mariana clenched her jaw tight. She was not his pretty little girl, and he knew it. Use the vehicles for cover.

Their guns blow these things apart!

They’ll last.

I want to talk to the Major.

Just as she’d dreaded. He’s wounded. We’ll get him out—

Wounded? The mission is over then. I will get my team out here.

Eduardo, listen—

A door on the north side of the building. We pick you up there.

We’re not leaving, Eduardo. You hear me?

"No, Major, that means I am in charge, pequeña hermosa."

Call me that again, and I’ll break your pinky.

Not so smart threatening your exfil team lead, huh?

You fuck us, Eduardo, and you’ll wish you’d never met me.

"Already do, pequeña hermosa."

She waved Gustavo to her and pointed around the corner. When I go, you provide cover fire. Understand?

He smirked. You will not make—

She dropped a hand to the hilt of her knife. Cover fire.

"Sí, sí." He chuckled, but he didn’t try to pretend he was intimidated.

Mariana had no time to explain to him the error of his thinking. The stairwell door was opening again. She nodded hard at Gustavo, then bolted around the corner.

There was a younger man pushing the damaged door open—small, pale as a puffy cloud. He wore what seemed to constitute a uniform for the security guards: dark jeans, black shirt, a dark gray vest that might be able to handle pistol rounds. His gray eyes were still locked on the gore in the hallway when she reached him.

He tried to get his gun around, but it was too late.

She rammed a shoulder into his gut, driving him into the door so loudly she almost missed the hollow moan that gushed from him. His gunfire similarly drowned out most of the crack of bullets hitting the door.

And him.

Gustavo hadn’t provided cover fire, so the team in the lobby was taking its shots.

The kid’s eyes rolled up in his head, and he slid down the door when she released her grip, leaving a dark smear on the wood.

Mariana was already moving past him, shotgun centimeters away from the face of the backpedaling second guard, a beet-red, rotund man with dark eyes and wavy, white hair. She sprayed his brains against the wall.

That fouled the aim of the third guard, a lanky man standing close to the base of the stairs. The burst of his battle rifle mostly struck the faceless corpse, but one round grazed Mariana’s left shoulder.

She grunted, twisted, and fell against the door frame.

The lanky man fired again. Closer. One of the rounds grazed her ribs, testing the Specter armor.

Mariana felt the impact. She tucked and rolled, bringing the back of her boots down on Lanky’s shoulder, knocking him back onto the stairs as he wildly fired another burst.

He slammed onto the steps with a shocked yelp.

She kipped up before he could right himself and drove a boot into his sternum. That produced a satisfying groan, and his eyes lost focus for a second.

She pulled the knife and plunged the black blade deep into an eye.

He bucked and twisted, then almost immediately went limp.

When she yanked the weapon free, his head came up off the steps; the blade had caught in the socket.

The gunfire had died down again.

Mariana flicked the gore from her knife, sheathed it, and retrieved the headless corpse and its battle rifle. It was a CA-Mil Battle Master—a good weapon, but old. The magazine was full, but she took another to be sure.

She hooked her left arm through the corpse’s armored vest, then pushed the body against the slam bar. When the gunfire resumed, she got small behind the body and let it take the shots as she rushed down the hall. The gasps and shouts of the guards were like music to her ears.

Where the hallway joined the lobby, there were two guards on either side. They were firing nonstop by the time she got to them. Bullets punched through the corpse. A few thudded into her armor with enough power that she grunted.

But the Specter suit held up.

She slung the perforated ruin of a corpse at the two guards on the left corner and sprayed the right corner with an automatic burst from the Battle Master. Clumps of Kwik-Kreet and plaster tore away from the wall, and one of the guards crumpled; the other backed around the corner.

One of the guards to her left had been taken to the ground by the body, and the other had been knocked back.

She skipped to the right wall, flipped back to burst mode, and put three rounds into the off-balance guard.

He twitched, then dropped.

The guard beneath the corpse finally managed to shove it off and rolled away from it. He seemed as young as the kid who’d been at the stairwell door.

Mariana almost felt bad putting a round into the guy’s throat.

Almost.

She popped around the corner and pulled back when she saw five guards at the front door turning their attention to her.

So much for Eduardo’s team drawing fire.

The big gun spun up, and its thunder preceded the disintegration of the wall corner around her. Sections came away in head-sized clumps.

She crouched low and slipped back a couple meters.

And waited.

These weren’t even prison guards. Calling them militia was too much, but that was what they’d declared themselves. None of them had significant formal training as far as she could tell. Their tactics consisted of sending lead downrange. Being stuck in a small area made that effective enough.

She needed to change that situation.

Eduardo, you hear me?

The annoying man laughed. Kicked the hornet’s nest, huh?

Get your wounded back while I have them distracted.

Listen, I know how to run an operation, you little—

Just do it! Mariana didn’t care if shouting hurt the idiot’s ego. There were bigger problems to deal with.

She backed away some more, swapped in the fresh magazine she’d taken, then straightened.

Lower gravity.

A glance back down the hallway confirmed that Gustavo wasn’t watching.

Mariana pressed the Battle Master flat against her gut, then sprinted forward. About a meter shy of the lobby, she jumped and tucked tight. Her butt brushed the ceiling but didn’t alter her course.

Gunfire sputtered, then ramped up until it was a constant thunder.

But it was behind her, tracking where she’d been, not where she was.

She landed in the opposite hall, twisted and dropped to her belly, then kicked off from a wall, skidding across the marble until she was looking back into the lobby.

The guards were still tracking fire across the ceiling and into the wall overhead. It didn’t seem to register for them just how fast she was.

The best news: The guard with the big gun—a CA-Mil Battle Dominator light machine gun—was reloading.

She put a burst into the closest guard, whose head had just tilted down toward her.

He spun and dropped.

Another burst went into the man beside the machine-gunner.

The machine-gunner—a stout man with fiery red hair and chubby cheeks—sighted on her.

She put a burst into his face, tearing off the top of his head.

One of the last two guards broke, running for the front door.

The remaining one fired at her. Bullets slapped the floor close by, spraying her visor with tile chips.

Mariana dropped him with a burst into his groin.

She keyed her earpiece as she checked the wounded. Eduardo, finish that last one off.

Automatic fire chattered from the parking lot.

Target down! It sounded like Lupe.

Most of the guards were seriously wounded and no longer a threat. One was still writhing. She stomped on his right forearm, snapping it, then jogged back to retrieve her Hornet.

Gustavo poked his head around the south corner. "They do not have very good guards, sí?"

She rolled her eyes. Come with me.

The big brute shuffled along behind her. How you get into that other hallway?

Like you said, they don’t have very good guards.

He seemed confused by the wreck she’d made of the lobby. Mariana didn’t wait for him. Her eyes were locked on an open barred door at the end of the north hall.

Had that been the entire security team? Was she too late?

She scanned left and right; there were no guards in the hallway beyond. Lining either side of the hallway were other barred doors—four to her left, four to her right.

All open.

Men in T-shirts and jeans hung from the top horizontal bar of those doors, sheets wrapped around their throats. Their hands were bound behind them by plastic strips. Pillowcases covered their heads.

Gustavo’s jaw dropped. ¡Maldita sea!

Come on! She took the bodies to her left and waved the big man to the others. Cut them down with your knife! See?

She lifted the first man and sawed through the sheet.

But it was too late for him. His tongue stuck out between discolored lips.

The next one. Unmoving. She slashed the sheet, lowered him to the ground, then pulled the pillowcase off.

Dead. Eyes bugged out.

Hey! Gustavo pointed to the last form, which twitched slightly. "Alive, sí?"

Get him down! Idiot!

She rushed toward them, cursing the loss of her team and having to take on such a pathetic group of replacements. Good Lancers were hard to come by. Those certified to pull off something like they were doing? It was more likely they’d be signed on for larger operations, taking money from colonial corporations to deal with big threats.

So Renny had hired on Eduardo and his imbéciles. And now she had to work with them.

The man on the ground was purple-faced. His hair was yellow, like dry grass, and his thin lips were drawn back from big, white teeth. He wasn’t breathing, and he’d stopped moving, but there was a fading look of intelligence in his eyes.

She pulled her helmet off and sheathed the knife. How did cardiopulmonary resuscitation work again? Pressure on the sternum done to a certain beat? She’d learned it so long ago.

Palm on chest. One press, two, three.

Gustavo, find a defibrillator.

"Que?"

"In the hall. On the wall. Caja roja—a red box."

The big man grunted, then lumbered out to the main hall.

Mariana focused on the rhythm. Orlando, you hear me?

Yeah, yeah. Your man, he is alive, okay?

Thank you. She opened a private connection to Eduardo. Eduardo, we have a potential survivor here.

What do you mean, ‘potential’?

He was still alive before your giant moron pulled him from the noose.

The client?

Looks like. His face… She sighed. Looks like.

Better keep him alive.

We’re working on it. Epi make it back yet?

He’s pulling in now. He said there are other vehicles coming, too.

The security team got a call off before the power cut out, or someone had managed during the gun battle using an earpiece.

Gustavo jogged toward her, a red box in his hand. She nodded for him to set it down beside the purple-faced man, then tore his T-shirt open.

And winced.

Bruises and welts turned the man’s ribs and abdomen into an ugly spattering of reds and purples. Blood caked his nipples. Hair had been shaved away in patches, and someone had done some fine cutting as well, leaving black-scabbed slashes near the armpits and above the sternum. It was sloppy, but someone had learned a little about torture and applied it. She could only imagine what she would find if she pulled down his pants.

Gustavo whistled with admiration. "Someone wanted something, sí?"

Looks like.

Mariana pulled out the probes and charged the device. The big man backed away as she activated the timer.

She glared at the old man. Don’t you give up.

The device fired, and the body convulsed.

But that was it.

She tore the probes away and went back to compressing his chest.

His eyes fluttered open and searched around, then he let out a deep groan.

Mariana slapped his face hard enough to get his attention. Hey! Hey! You with me?

The pale blue eyes focused on her. "That