Nexus (39 page)

  NOOOOOO!

  Mai opened her eyes, tried to smile up at Sam.

 
 I love you, Sam
, her mind seemed to say.

  And then she was gone.

  Madness descended on Samantha Cataranes.

  Someone slammed into her from behind. An agent. Sam rolled with it, threw him off her. There was another burst of gunfire from the living room, a yell of pain. She could hear screaming, sobbing, cries for help. She felt them in her mind. Another agent came at her from the side. She blocked a kick, took him down with a single blow to the face.

  Lalana was dead. Niran was dying. Chuan was hit and bleeding. The rage consumed her.

  She blocked a rifle thrust from her left, tried to kick at the one ahead of her, felt his rifle smash painfully into her shin as he blocked her.

  Chariya lay hit and dying, sobbing quietly for her husband, for the girl she'd adopted as daughter. Sarai was screaming in pain and horror, a bullet in her, crouched over Sajja's dead body, the man she'd loved.

  They were all inside her. Their minds were one with hers. Sam could feel them all. The Nexus and the Empathek fused them with her.

  Sam was them. She was their despair. She was their anger. She was their weapon.

  Sam bellowed in rage as the agents came at her, lashed out with fists and feet, took one down, a second, a third.

  A rifle smashed into the back of her head, brought her down to her hands and knees. A man behind her. She kicked backwards, sent a body hurtling through the air and into the wall. Another one slammed a rifle into her face. A man on the ground kicked her viciously in the midsection, knocked the wind out of her.

  Sam rolled to the side to get out from the middle of them, took a hard kick to the head. A booted foot landed on her chest, a rifle pointed down at her.

  "Cataranes!" It was Lee. "Stop!"

  She kicked up, trying to disarm him. Another man kicked her in the face, hard. Two more rifle barrels stared down at her.

  "Stand down, damn you!"

 

Wats panned the fiber-optic camera frantically. It was a goddamn warzone down there. Kade had appeared briefly before everything went tits up, then disappeared. He had to get Kade out of there. Where was he? Where the fuck was he?

 

Kade crouched in the doorway. He could feel the pain and death out there. He could feel it all through the Nexus connection they shared. Narong was crumpled on the ground, confused and terrified, not sure what he'd done, in incredible pain, terrified he was about to die.

  I did that, Kade thought. My fault. My responsibility.

  Chariya was hit, mourning the death of her family. Sajja was dead. Lalana was dead. He could feel Niran bleeding to death in the middle of the room.

  It took his breath away. Pain and anguish like he'd never experienced. It was filling him up. He could feel them dying, feel their agony, feel their despair.

  I've killed these people, he thought. I've fucking killed them. Tears streamed down his face.

  He had to get a grip. He slammed the serenity package on hard, jammed it to its max setting. Clarity descended through the fog of pain and fear. He opened himself to those still alive, tried to parse what they were seeing through their own confusion and rage and terror.

  He could feel Chuan slowly creeping towards one of PratNung's dead bodyguards, reaching for his gun, intending to kill these motherfuckers who'd invaded their home. Through Chuan's eyes he saw Ted Prat-Nung dash forward from behind a chair, heading for Chariya, firing at an agent with his machine pistol. His volley took the man in the chest, armor-piercing rounds ripping right through the mercenary. A stray hit Rajni, cowering on the floor, tore through her left thigh, shattered her femur, ripped a scream out of her body like no john or pimp ever had.

  Prat-Nung scooped Chariya up in his arms, dashing for the window. Another agent brought his gun to bear. Panes of the stained glass window exploded beyond Prat-Nung. Automatic fire converged on him, pounded into his chest, lifted him off his feet and dropped him onto the floor, Chariya atop him.

  Kade pulled his mind away from them. Sam. She was down, agents pointing rifles at her. He sent it to Chuan, pushed on the boy's mind.
Sam! Help her!

  Chuan came up on one knee, a submachine gun from one of Prat-Nung's bodyguards in his hand, firing on the agents above Sam. His bullets took one in the back, tore through the man's spine. Two rifles came up, muzzle flares burst into life, and Chuan's chest exploded. He fell, a look of shock on his face. Kade could feel his mind still working, surprised, not understanding, still catching up to what had just happened to him, still coming to grips with the fact that he was dead, as the remains of his body slumped to the floor.

  Kade had to help Sam himself. He flipped on Bruce Lee. Targeting circles appeared in his vision. He clicked on one of the men standing above Sam, his weapon trained on her: Full attack.

  Bruce Lee hurled his body into the fray.

 

Sam went still on the ground, stared up into the gun barrels, put her hands above her head. They had her. Damnit.

  More gunfire came from the kitchen. Screams. She could feel Kade searching for her, felt him find her.

  Chuan came up on one knee with a bodyguard's gun and fired. She felt him do it. The bullets tore through the chest of one of the men above her. Lee lifted his rifle, took his eyes off Sam, annihilated Chuan.

  Someone slammed into Lee from the side. It was Kade, in a flying side-kick that knocked the mercenary into the wall. She felt Lee slam the butt of his gun into Kade's face, knock him to the ground. But for a moment there were only two of them above her, their eyes towards Chuan, guns drifting up. Sam reached up with both arms, grabbed their belts, yanked
hard
as she kicked herself to standing and brought them down to the ground.

  She whirled in a vicious spinning hook kick that would have decapitated most men, struck one of the agents in the head, plowed him into his squadmate. An assault rifle went off, rounds firing wild into the ceiling and behind her.

  Lee rushed her, using his rifle two-handed, trying to bash her in the face with it. She grabbed the rifle with both hands, rolled back and kicked, hurtling him into the air and the wall behind her.

  She came up to her feet, his rifle in both her hands. Someone crashed into her from behind. She whirled, smashed the man in the head with the assault rifle. An agent on the ground threw himself at the back of her legs, brought her down to her knees.

  Someone kicked at Sam's head. A rifle came down on her back like a hammer blow, sent her sprawling. She rolled to avoid another aimed at her head, took a foot painfully in the ribs, punched out at a man's groin, knocked him back despite the body armor.

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Too many of them.

  Kicks and rifles rained down on her. She blocked, blocked, kicked blindly, tried to grab at a gun. Blows kept landing. Pain exploded through her face as a steel-toe boot connected. Her left arm went numb as she blocked a rifle butt painfully with her elbow. Pain shot up from her kidneys. Her hip, her ribs, her chest, she was being pummeled into hell. She couldn't breathe, could barely see.

  Too many. Too fucking many. She could not win this fight. She was going to fucking die here.

  They killed Mai!

  A foot landed on the side of her head and pushed. Two men wrestled her wrists together. Sam raged, almost pushed them off. A rifle butt slammed into her face. Her muscles went limp for an instant. Her wrists snapped together behind her back in plasticuffs. Three rifle barrels pointed down at her.

  "Stand down, damn you!" Lee yelled.

  She was beaten, she realized. There would be no rescue this time. Now she'd pay for what she'd done.

  And then the ceiling above her exploded, something large and heavy fell from it onto the agents below, and someone tall and built like an ox dropped after it, full auto shotguns in both hands, firing as he landed.

 

Wats scanned frantically. There! That was Kade. He flew out of nowhere, collided with one of the ERD agents. He was trying to save Cataranes.

  The agent smacked Kade down as Wats watched. At least six of them down there. No sign of Suk Prat-Nung's men yet either. Nearly hopeless odds.

  All that matters is what we do with the instant we are given.

  Wats slapped the plastic explosive down, hit the delayed detonator, crouched behind the heavy wooden desk.

  The explosion was deafening. Dust fell on him instantly. He heaved the oak desk forward, sent it hurtling down through the hole in the floor, pulled his guns and jumped down after it.

 

Sam's eyes widened as the towering figure in black leapt down through the hole that the blast had opened in the ceiling above, landing on the wreckage of the massive desk that had preceded him, and the agents buried beneath it. Lee looked up, stunned, tried to bring his pistol to bear. Wats' gun roared at point-blank range, and Lee's head disintegrated in a cloud of red gore.

  There was a mind there. Sam felt it. She'd felt it briefly once before. Watson Cole. The one that had gotten away.

  The ex-Marine turned, firing in a tight arc in the close space of the combat. One of the agents rolled behind the fallen desk. Another brought his gun up to fire at Cole. The black man's auto shotguns pulverized him.

  Another mercenary took aim at Cole. Sam threw herself at the mercenary, arms cuffed behind her back, knocked him to the ground, kicked him in the face until he went limp.

  There was one more agent up, the one who'd rolled behind the wreckage of the massive desk. He came around it, tried to take Cole by surprise. Wats was there, waiting for him. The mercenary came up into the barrels of both guns. They erupted, their muzzle flashes burning him , graphene-coated pellets shredding through his armor, opening holes in his chest and groin.

  One of the two agents under the wreckage of the desk was stirring, reaching for the assault rifle just out of his grasp. Wats kicked it away from him, bashed him in the face with the butt of his shotgun.

  The guns fell silent. Only the screams of the dying and the sobs of the bereaved could be heard.

 
 

Garrett Nichols stared at the display in stunned silence. What the fuck had just happened?

  "Radio intercept," Jane Kim said. "Bangkok Metro Police chopper en route. ETA… two minutes."

  No. This was a nightmare. They couldn't let the local authorities find any evidence. Their rules of engagement were crystal clear on that.

  Three men were still alive. Another's radio was offline, his state unknown.

  "Bruce, get those men up. They have to get out of there."

  Bruce Williams was pounding keys furiously. "Not responding. Two unconscious. One has good vitals but radio's offline, possibly damaged."

  "Ninety seconds till chopper arrival," Jane Kim called out. "Aerial news drones en route as well."

  "Sanitize," Becker said quietly from the screen. "Protocol Thirteen."

  Nichols looked up, horrified. "Sir, we still have three men alive in there, maybe four. And civilians! I need to get them out."

  "You don't have time," Becker said. The Deputy Director's face was pale. His mouth was set in a hard line. His voice was resigned. "You have local police inbound and you now have less than two minutes."

  "We just need a little more time… get our men out of there, get the civilians out… There's no precedent!"

  "There isn't any more time!" Becker snapped. "Those men are unconscious. The Bangkok Police are almost on top of you. You have to sanitize! You know the rules. Protocol Thirteen. Execute."

  Nichols couldn't breathe. This was a bad dream – a horrible dream. Kim and Williams were staring at him, ashen-faced.

  "Execute, Nichols, or I swear to god I'll have you relieved."

  Nichols tapped at his keyboard, pulled up a screen he'd only ever used in war games. Entered the commands. A confirmation prompt appeared, asking for his password. He entered it. A second prompt appeared, on all their terminals. It needed a second person's password.

  Kim and Williams stared at their terminals, all blood drained from their faces.

  "Bruce, type in your password."

  Williams blanched further. "Sir, I… I…"

  "Do it, Bruce," Nichols said gently. "It's on me."

  Williams trembled as he typed in his password, hit ENTER. The system accepted it. A final confirmation prompt appeared on Nichols' screen. He looked up at the feeds, the tactical display, his casualties, the men on the ground, immobile but still breathing, the sobbing civilians crawling on the floor. He hit ENTER one more time… God save his soul.

 

Sam crouched by a fallen agent, back to him, yanked a knife free from his belt, sawed it through the plasticuffs, came to her feet a free woman.

  Wats reached Kade a second before she did. Kade was coming around. He'd been slammed in the face hard. One eye was swollen bloodily shut and a nasty cut ran from his temple to his cheek. He was groggy, but rising back to consciousness.

  Wats holstered his guns, scooped Kade up in his arms. "We've got to get out of here."

  Sam couldn't agree more.

  "Wha'… Wats?" Kade had one eye open.

  "Kade, my man. I told you to stay outta trouble."

  Sam ripped a submachine gun from one of Prat-Nung's guards. The ERD weapons would be biometrically locked. This would have to do. She ejected the clip from the black-market special in her hand, checked it, rammed it back home. "Let's go."

  She turned, half jogged towards the back door. Wats took one of Kade's arms over his shoulder. They came up behind her.