The Spy Who Loves Me (29 page)

Which meant he had no time to screw around.
Damn.

He ran his hands through his hair, considering his options. The best plan was to backtrack to the airstrip, find the grating they'd emerged from during their escape, and go back in that way. If worse came to worse, he could even navigate the air vent again, though he didn't relish the possibility.

He glanced at his watch. Time was ticking away.
Shit.

He hugged the building, easing through the darkness toward the corner, knowing that once he rounded the side, the strip would come into view. He'd have to make a break across the open to the grating, but if he was lucky, he could get there in under a minute. If he was even luckier, no one would see him doing it.

He was just about to ease into the open when he heard the squawk of a radio. He pressed himself against the wall, trying to lose himself in the shadows.

“Garner, get your ass over here,” Beltzer's voice boomed through the static.

“What's up?” Garner answered, his voice loud and all too close. Finn said a silent thank-you to Beltzer. If he'd buzzed a second later, Finn would have walked around the corner and right into Garner's line of sight.

“Got the bitch,” he said. He might as well have kicked Finn in the gut, and he bit down on the inside of his cheek.

“Hot damn,” Garner said.

“Take another pair of eyes and walk the perimeter,” Beltzer said. “See if she brought any friends along with her.”

“Negative,” Garner said. “Mackenzie said she came alone.”

Finn blinked, troubled by that statement, but too tense to sort it out at the moment.

“That's a good bit of news,” the voice said. “In that case, get down here and back me up. I got her cuffed, but the bitch is tricky.”

“Where are you?”

“Dish One. On the platform.”

“Stupid twit. Guess her boss didn't tell her Mackenzie's running six dishes on the island. She could blow that one and he wouldn't even give a damn.”

“No shit,” Beltzer said. “Now get the fuck over here.”

“On my way.”

Footsteps sounded on the pavement, and Finn followed, taking care to move in silence. As soon as he rounded the corner, he could see the dish illuminated by the moon, a beacon against the black horizon.

He would have preferred the cloak of blackness provided by a moonless night, but he was hardly in a position to rearrange the universe. He'd settle for rearranging Garner's face.

The way Finn figured it, he had two options—he could follow Garner and then tackle both men, or he could tackle Garner now and approach Beltzer wearing Garner's hat and jacket. The second option was risky—they were in the open and Beltzer might be watching for Garner's approach—but the risk was worth it.

He took a deep breath, pulling the Walther from the holster Amber had given him. He'd told her he had experience with a gun, and that wasn't a lie. But his experience had been on a firing range. He'd never pulled a gun on a person before.

He would tonight, though. And he'd fire it, too. If that's what it took to save Amber, if that's what it took to prevent a war, he'd fire it without hesitation.

D
iana paced in front of the console, her body a mass of energy. She watched the clock, wishing she could will time to move faster. She wanted this over and done. She wanted off the island. Drake swore they were safe, that his partner had taken care of everything.

Well, maybe he had and maybe he hadn't. But until Prometheus fired and they got the hell off the island, Diana wasn't about to relax.

And she needed some R and R. A beach, some tequila, and a copy of Hawking's
The Universe in a Nutshell.
Heaven. And she couldn't get there soon enough.

“Calm down, baby,” Drake said, closing his hand over the microphone of his headset.

She flashed him a look of pure irritation, then checked her watch. It was running one minute faster than the atomic clock on the wall.

“What's the word on Robinson?” she asked. “Anything?”

“Beltzer's taking her to a cell right now.” He held his hands out wide. “We're home free, baby. Just like I told you.”

The metal door feeding into the main corridor slid open, and Diana heard herself breathe out, a little “oh” escaping her lips as she recognized the figure in the doorway—one of Unit 7's bigwigs…and one of Drake's oldest enemies.

She wasn't armed, but Drake kept a pistol on the console, and she lunged for it. Drake's hand closed over hers. “Sweetheart,” he said, “I want you to meet my partner.”

 

“Hands up,” Finn said, pressing the gun against the back of Garner's head. He stiffened, every muscle ready to spring should Garner make a stupid move.

Garner didn't. Instead, he lifted his hands above his head, a slow, calculated movement designed to show Finn just how cooperative he was being.

“Good boy,” Finn said, keeping the gun on him with one hand as he frisked Garner with the other. He plucked Garner's gun out of his holster under his jacket, then slipped it into the waistband of his jeans. Finn didn't find any other weapons. He did, however, find handcuffs.

Handy.

He cuffed Garner's hands behind his back, then ordered the man onto the ground. He removed Garner's boots, then tied his ankles together with one of his laces. He held onto the second lace as he ordered Garner onto his belly.

The guard complied without question. Apparently the man wasn't as stupid as he looked.

Finn used the second lace to tie Garner's ankles to the handcuffs, securing the man's limbs behind his back. He stuffed Garner's sock into his mouth, and left him trussed up like a pig ready for roasting.

As he ran toward the dish he shoved Garner's baseball style cap onto his head and pulled on the battered leather jacket, then reached into his back pocket for a book of matches. Even with the moon, the night was dark, the cloud cover blocking the light and casting the world in dirty gray cotton.

With luck, the combination of Garner's clothes and the dim light would provide enough of a disguise.

Without luck, he was screwed.

 

“Move,” Beltzer said. He jammed the barrel of his rifle into Amber's back, urging her toward the stairs. They were on the utility building above which the dish sat, and she was moving as slowly as possible. She had only been able to hear Beltzer's side of the radioed conversation, but he hadn't mentioned Finn. Hopefully, Finn hadn't been caught. More hopefully, he'd made it into the complex. If she could keep Beltzer and his buddy busy, that was two less thugs Finn had to deal with.

Footsteps sounded on the metal stairs below them, and she looked down. Leather jacket and baseball cap. Garner, she presumed.

“Get the fuck up here,” Beltzer said. “The bitch has lead feet. I swear, if Drake didn't want her alive, I'd just pop her right here.”

Garner just grunted and kept plodding up the stairs, his head down so he could watch his feet, a gun in one hand, the other hand behind his back.

Amber squinted. There was something familiar about that gun….

As he reached the platform, Amber realized, and the flood of relief that crashed over her was just as strong and palpable as the spurt of anger following on its heels. Neither emotion had time to register, though. There was only time to act.

The second Finn's boots hit the platform, he threw the tennis ball bomb off the platform. It exploded on impact, popping and zinging and completely distracting Beltzer. Amber took advantage of the lug's disorientation to back away. At the same time, Finn lashed out, kicking up and ramming Beltzer in the gut. Beltzer fell on his ass, his gun rattling across the metal grating on which he walked. His face contorted with pain, but he moved almost immediately to get up. No way, José. Amber rammed her foot down, slamming her heel into his nuts.

Beltzer howled in pain, and even Finn's face twisted into an unpleasant grimace.

There were definite advantages to being female.

Her hands were still cuffed behind her, but she dropped to the ground, pulling her knees up until she was in a fetal position. She eased her butt through the circle of her arms, wiggling until her bound hands were in front of her. The whole process took about ten seconds, and Finn kept his gun trained on Beltzer the entire time.

She reached back, clicking open the barrette that held her hair in a ponytail. The clasp was a cuff key, and she was free in no time.

She regarded Beltzer, twisting the barrette between her fingers before pulling her hair back up and away from her face. “Where's Garner?” she asked, keeping her eyes on Beltzer but talking to Finn as the wind did its job of clearing away the smoke.

“Trussed up like a turkey on the airstrip,” he said.

“Alive?”

“Yes.”

She turned to him, making an effort to keep her face impassive. “And what are
you
doing here?”

“Looks like I'm saving your butt,” he said.

She tamped down a wave of anger, reminding herself that he was a civilian. “This isn't the time for chivalry,” she said. “You need to be in that complex. We don't have much time.”

“No shit,” he said. “Let's get moving.”

She nodded. They could argue if they survived. She took the gun from his hand and aimed it at Beltzer's head. “Nice knowing you,” she said. “I'm sure you understand that I don't want any loose ends.”

“Wait.” Finn's hand came down on her wrist. “I've got an idea.”

 

As it turned out, his idea was a good one. The security at the complex was intense, impenetrable without the appropriate key to get past the security system. Beltzer's hand did the trick just fine.

The door slid open and they entered with care, keeping Beltzer in front of them as a human shield. The precaution was unnecessary; the corridor was deserted.

“I should just shoot you now,” Amber said to Beltzer. But she didn't. They might need him again. Or at least his palm print. And for all she knew, a cold, dead hand wouldn't work.

“Here,” Finn said. She turned and saw him point to a utility closet. Perfect.

Five minutes later, Beltzer was tied up and gagged, shoved in next to a row of metal shelving lined with rags and cleaning products. Amber pressed the hypodermic into his thigh. “Sweet dreams,” she said, pulling the door closed with a click.

After that, she turned to Finn and took a deep breath. “That was a good move with the bomb,” she said. “I'm sorry.” They weren't words that came easy, but she meant them, and it was important that he know that.

A shadow crossed his face, his expression wary. “For what?”

“For chewing you out earlier. I told you that you needed to be inside the complex—”

“—but I couldn't get inside the complex,” he finished.

“Exactly.” She licked her lips. “Of course, you could have just used Garner's hand. You didn't have to keep schlepping across the airfield.”

“Let's just stick to thank you, okay?”

She felt a smile tug at her mouth. “Fair enough.”

He took her hand, and she squeezed back, comforted by the press of his skin against hers. “When I heard they'd caught you, my heart about stopped,” he said, his voice a low whisper as they maneuvered their way down the corridor.

She didn't say anything, but the truth was that the wash of relief she'd felt when she'd seen him on the stairs was more than the relief of being rescued. It had been like a cry of joy at seeing him again. A feeling as if the whole world had opened just a little bit more because this man she loved was safe.

Which made it all the more difficult to know that she couldn't be with him. Not really. And certainly not forever. She would never leave the Unit. And when this was all over, she intended to see about bringing Finn in as an agent. If she couldn't be with the man she loved, she could at least help him get the career he wanted.

And from what she'd seen so far, with a little more training, he could be one of the best.

They'd reached an intersection, and Finn tugged her back, his hand automatically going across her chest to keep her pressed flat against the wall. Footsteps sounded in the distance, and she held her breath. Two people. Possibly three, coming toward them down an intersecting corridor.

She inched backward, ready to flee back the way they came if necessary. They didn't want a confrontation. The longer they went undetected, the better.

The footsteps receded, and she exhaled. A long, slow sigh of relief. “Come on,” she said.

He tugged her back. “Wait.”

Amber looked back over her shoulder in confusion, silently demanding an explanation.

“I haven't told you everything yet,” he said.

Something in his voice made her pause, giving him her full attention. “What?”

“Could you hear Garner?” he said. “Over the walkie-talkie, I mean.”

She scowled, trying to figure what this could be leading up to, and slowly shook her head. “No. Beltzer was wearing an earpiece.”

Finn nodded, his expression unreadable.

“Finn?”

“I could hear him,” he said. “I'm an idiot. I should have made the connection earlier.” He took her hand. “Amber, they not only knew you were coming, they were certain you were coming alone.”

She swallowed, the impact of his words hitting her with exactly the force she knew he'd anticipated.

“James,” he said gently.

She closed her eyes, as if that could blot out the truth. As if by not looking she could somehow avoid the stench of betrayal that colored her life. It was becoming a theme. Her father. Her mother. James.

She shuddered, the implications overwhelming. He'd sent her to die. And Brandon. Had he killed Brandon? Just for being in the way?

“Amber?”

Finn's voice was gentle, but she recoiled, pulling back into herself.

“That's not all,” Finn said.

She took a deep breath, then lifted her chin to meet his eyes. “What else? Did he kill my dog on the way out of the house?”

“Paramilitary support,” he said. “They're not—”

She held up a hand to quiet him, irritated with herself for focusing so much on James's betrayal that she missed the more important ramifications. “Of course,” she said. “We're it. If we fail, no one's going to target the island. If we fail, Prometheus is going to fire and we just might walk off this island and into a war.”

“We're not going to fail,” Finn said, his voice tight and determined.

It was the determination that centered her. Screw James. He was nothing. Right now, she had more important things to worry about. “No,” she agreed. “We're not.”

“So what now?” Finn asked.

“Now we go kick some terrorist butt.”