Third Transmission (25 page)

He reached out and found her hand and squeezed it gently. It seemed like the right thing to do. Soon her sobs ebbed away and the tears stopped flowing and he listened to her slow, deep breaths and realised she was asleep.

He sat in silence, watching her shoulders rise and sink, and thinking of nothing at all.

INVASION

It was nearly 6 am when Six thought he heard a noise outside. The night had been quiet – as quiet as the City ever was, anyway. Just distant cars and aeroplanes and the throbbing of trains passing below. But suddenly he heard a brief rustling, perhaps a stray dog, or just a light breeze stirring the grass.

Or perhaps not. He wasn't leaving anything to chance, not tonight.

He couldn't see the front yard from the bedroom window, so he slipped his hand out of Ace's, stood as quietly as he could, and left the room, closing the door behind him.

He checked the front door first. Locked, three times over. Nothing but darkness on the other side of the peephole.

Six walked into the lounge room and found the switch that controlled the lasers. He turned them off, and watched darkness flood into the room until there was nothing else. Then he flicked the switch next to it, turning off the electrical current running through the windows, and the glass became transparent.

The security floodlight was on, but the front yard was empty. No cars parked on the street. No pedestrians. No anything. Six hit the switch again, opaquing the windows.

He walked back to the stairs, climbed them, and looked out the attic window. Nothing suspicious. Whatever the sound had been, it was gone now.

A red dot had appeared on the window. Kyntak was home, and ready to meet him. Six switched off the laser pointer.

He wondered whether to stay up here. It was where he had planned to keep watch from, after all. Would Ace be offended if she woke up to find him gone? Or if he went back, would she be creeped out to wake up and find him still there, sitting on the bed?

He glanced at his watch: 6.03. It was time for her shift anyway. He thought about letting her sleep through it, and then concluded she'd be angry at him later if he didn't wake her up.

He climbed down the stairs.

The bedroom door was open.

Had he closed it? He walked through the doorway, and flinched, startled. Ace was already up. She was standing in the centre of the room, staring at him.

And she had four arms.

One of the hands was holding a gun to her temple. Another one covered her mouth. Her eyes were wide.

Nightmare, Six thought, heart hammering against his lungs. This has got to be a nightmare.

Then he saw that she had four feet, and suddenly the illusion was swept away. This wasn't a nightmare, and Ace hadn't grown extra limbs during the night. There was someone crouched behind her, pressing a gun to her head.

The hand left Ace's mouth. It didn't matter if she screamed now.

It took Six a quarter of a second to draw his handgun, take aim at the hand next to Ace's head, and click the safety off. But he couldn't fire. If he shot the intruder's hand, he or she would probably pull the trigger on refiex. Same deal if Six shot the intruder in the legs. If a bullet hit the intruder anywhere other than the skull or the heart, Ace was dead. And the intruder's head and chest were behind Ace's torso.

‘Six,' Ace said. ‘I'm sorry.'

‘Drop the gun,' came a voice from behind her. Male. Firm.

Ace's stomach churned. It hadn't seemed real until the man spoke. Awaking to find a rough palm clamped over her mouth, a cold gun barrel pressed against her head – she'd still been too sleepy to panic until she heard his voice. But now her mind was whirling.

He wasn't a time-soldier, as far as she could tell. And these weren't ChaoSonic tactics. So this man probably worked for Vanish.

Is he after me, or Six? Ace wondered. Or both? Will he shoot me, or does he need me alive?

‘You first,' Six said to the gunman. It was a poor bluff.

It looked to Ace as though Six's gun was aimed at her. She hoped it was actually pointed at an exposed part of the man behind her, and that Six hadn't lost his aim from fatigue.

‘Put it down,' the intruder said. ‘Or she dies.'

The gun pressed a little harder against her skull. Ace's heart pounded like a timpani. He didn't sound like he was making empty threats. He sounded completely willing to blow her brains out.

‘Who do you work for?' Six demanded.

Stalling, Ace thought. Distracting him.

‘That's outside the scope of your responsibilities,' the intruder said calmly. ‘Your concern right now is your girlfriend's life.'

Ace bit her lip. She figured if Six put the gun down, they were both dead. Not right now – but when Vanish arrived he'd probably kill her to protect his new identity, then scoop out Six's brain and replace it with his own. Whereas if Six opened fire, Ace would probably die, but Six would probably survive.

Say something brave, she thought. Tell him to shoot the intruder through me. Tell him to save himself.

She tried. But nothing came out. She tried again. ‘I don't want to die,' she blurted out.

‘Of course you don't,' the intruder said. ‘So tell him to drop the gun.'

Ace said nothing. Fear and shame fought for dominance in her mind.

Six was as still as a statue. But she could see him thinking, hard and fast. This was a boy who could divide 53 by 31 in his head. If anyone could think of a way out of this –

‘I'm losing patience with you,' the gunman said.

Ace saw a change in Six's expression. He'd stopped thinking. Some kind of decision had been made.

‘Listen to me very carefully,' Six told the intruder. ‘Ace's life means much –'

‘So ditch the pistol,' the man said. Ace took a shaky breath, wondering if it would be her last.

‘Let me finish,' Six whispered. Ace saw a droplet of sweat run down his neck. ‘Her life means much more to me than yours.' He paused. ‘So if you let her go, I will let you go.'

‘You have three seconds,' the intruder said.

No, Ace thought. Please, no.

‘Please don't make me kill you,' Six said, teeth clenched.

‘Two.'

Ace said, ‘Six!'

‘One.'

‘Don't!' Six said. He spread his arms wide in a gesture of surrender, letting his pistol face the wall. ‘All right. Don't shoot.'

Ace's hands trembled at her sides. The gun was still against her head.

‘Put it down,' the intruder said.

Don't do it! Ace thought. We'll both die!

‘Okay,' Six said. ‘I'm putting it down. Just don't hurt her.'

He reached out towards the desk with his gun hand – and then he pulled the trigger.

Ace saw the gun kick in his grip. The bullet slammed into the lead wall at a 60-degree angle, leaving a star-shaped scorch mark, then it ricocheted outwards. Ace felt her hair blow aside as the bullet zipped behind her back and punched through the intruder's face.

There was a spray of blood and she yelped and ducked, but the man's gun hand was lifeless. His body hit the floor with a slack thud.

‘Are you okay?' Six asked.

For an absurd second, Ace thought he was talking to the dead intruder. She pressed both hands to her chest, feeling her heart slam against its cage and her lungs inflate and deflate rapidly, but all losing momentum. A decelerating symphony of life under her fingers.

‘Lead walls,' she panted. ‘Good for something.'

‘Damn right,' Six said. ‘Are you hurt?'

She shook her head. ‘I'm fine.' Thanks to you, she thought. Again.

‘Let's get out of here.'

‘There'll be more out there,' she said. ‘Guys like that never hunt alone.'

Six nodded. ‘I'm thinking four to six commandos, probably with assault weapons. And they'll have heard the gunshot.'

‘Is there a secret way out? A tunnel or something?'

‘Sorry. More ways out meant more ways in, so I designed it with just the one door.'

‘How did that guy get in?'

Six looked worried. ‘I have no idea,' he said.

Ace thought about the distance from the front door to the stolen car. About 25 metres, all very exposed. It would take her and Six maybe ?fteen seconds to get to the car. That was a lot of time for whoever was out there to take pot shots at them. They'd be ducks at a carnival shooting range.

But what was the alternative? They couldn't just barricade the basement and wait for Vanish's troops to give up and leave. Especially when they didn't know how that first intruder had broken in. What was to stop the others from entering the same way?

They needed an escape method that the commandos wouldn't be prepared for.

‘Six,' she said. ‘I've got an idea.'

The commando jammed his finger into his ear, depressing the transmission button on his earpiece. ‘Interior One, Interior One,' he said. ‘Come in, over.' Then, after a pause, ‘Interior One, do you read? Over.'

He was crouched behind a refuse bin near the gutter. He could see another commando lying flat on the grass beneath the front window of the target's house.
A third was poised on the roof, cradling an automatic rifie loaded with rubber ammunition in one arm, and a sledgehammer in the other. The fourth was out of sight around the back of the house.

A minute ago, he'd heard what might have been a gunshot inside. Now the inside man had broken radio contact. There seemed to him to be two likely explanations for this. A: Interior One has shot one of the two targets and is lying in wait for the other. B: Interior One is dead.

We can't wait any longer, he thought. If he's dead, we need to move in now. If he's alive, it will distract the targets. It won't compromise his position. He grabbed the iron tube used to break down doors, and pushed the button on the earpiece again.

‘All units,' he hissed. ‘Move in! Now!'

He ran towards the door. The commando on the roof raised the sledge, and at the same moment the one by the window scrambled to his feet and swung the butt of his rifie towards the glass.

Clank!
That was the sledge hitting the roof.
Bonk
– the gun colliding with the window. And
thud!
The iron tube hit the door and bounced off without leaving a dent, and the commando stumbled backwards.

He boggled at the house. The window was still in one piece, and the roof was apparently undamaged. The whole damn building looked exactly like it had when they found it.

And then he saw that the window was no longer opaque. There was a blinking red light in the centre.

It took his brain a split second to figure out what that might mean and then he roared ‘Down!' at the others and then –

BOOM!

He was slammed onto the grass, and thick chunks of glass landed all around him. Raising his head, he saw the commando on the roof stagger and fall to the ground, dropping the sledgehammer halfway down.

And then a motorbike fiew out the window, engine screaming. The wheels churned the air until they hit the grass and then they shredded it into mud and the motorbike blasted forwards, howling out onto the road.

The two targets were on it.

The commando pulled his pistol off his belt. The rubber rounds wouldn't puncture the tyres, but they'd hurt like hell if they hit the targets, and might just knock them off the bike. He pulled the trigger, and kept pulling until the magazine was empty. Projectiles thunked against the rear fairing of the bike. One hit the boy's helmet and one cracked the window of the house across the street but that was it. Suddenly they were gone, leaving behind only a stench of scorched rubber and a whirlwind of cobalt-blue smoke.

No way to catch up with them. Mission failed.

‘All units withdraw,' the commando shouted, and they all ran back to the van.

‘Nice driving,' Six yelled, arms wrapped around Ace's waist. His voice felt loud and blunt inside his helmet.

‘I don't think they're following,' Ace said. She swerved into a darkened alleyway and skidded to a halt in the shadows between streetlights.