Wild Thing (55 page)

He gestured Stark ahead.  'You get the door.  And keep your pistol out.  Maybe next time we won't get a warning as she comes round.'  He frowned.  She should've been out for another fifteen, thirty minutes, easy.

They reached the front doors and Jackson Stark, “Private Investigator,” undercover as a mechatronics engineer, keyed them open.  Stark again took the front of the trolley, lifting, while Garland took the back, muttering.  'Extenuating circumstances?  Jesus.'  He shook his head in disbelief.  Stark must be an idiot.

Stark went first, backing carefully down the wide stone stairs in the evening light.  One police van still waited, lights flashing: the other, carrying Harmon and the recently-healed members of Garland's team, already gone.

Two days earlier, Stark had found the drugs in the locked drawer in Harmon's office.  They'd still been there tonight, Harmon's fingerprints all over the container.

Stark bet the blood tests would show they were both dosed up on them, too.  Sara had been practically in heat.  Remembering, he passed the evidence bag over to Garland, who took one quick, experienced look.

'Shit.'  Garland recognized them before his imaging unit had scanned and counted them.  'Scope
and
Beep.  Twenty seven doses.  Dirty bastard.'

At least Harmon had healed the two guys the girl had killed, before they'd locked him up and driven him off.  Including Garland's partner, Berlusconi. 
Who'd be mad as… oh,
fuck
!  '
Stark.'

Garland had frozen, staring now into the darkness past Stark to the front drive.

Behind Stark, a long, low growl rumbled, growing angrier by the moment.  The next sound was one Stark had never wanted to hear again;
thought
he'd never hear again, after the Eco War down South: the soft hum then the
snick
of a rocket pod locking open in the Armed position.  He winced.  One of the two rocket pods he himself had checked and made certain was fully working, only days before.

It would blow both of them to smithereens.  He heard a second soft hum and
snick,
and his eyes shut, briefly.  Gently then, using his body to cover the movement, he pulled out his Colt Terminator .44.

Garland had carefully lowered the gurney, angled as it was still halfway down the steps, and slowly locked the brake on with one foot.

'Easy, boy, easy.'

The growling deepened.

'That's a fucking cyborg dog, Stark.  Why is there a fucking cyborg war dog aiming two mini-rockets at us?'

'That's Faith.  An Asgard Model 3 CK9, with maximum weaponry fit-out.  They have… a dangerous inmate here.  And she's, ah, in good working order.'

'Why is it aiming its rockets at us, Stark?'

'Because it loves Sara.  Move closer to her: Faith is also a real smart dog.  She won't fire if Sara's close to you.  Oh.  And she has lasers, too.  Built into her optics.  I wonder why she hasn't used them to take us out?'

Garland began moving his hand slowly toward the holster with his Nemesys Sleeper, but the dog's angry snarl stopped the movement.  That, and the red dot of a laser sight on his hand.  'I see what you mean.'

As he moved his hand away from the holster the snarling settled back to the low growl.

'She can't understand us, though, can she?'

'She's still only a dog, Garland.  Neural implants don't let her understand
language
.  But… I think she does know some words, yeah.'

Garland's voice suddenly got a lot friendlier.  'That's a good girl, Faith.  Good dog.  Guarding Sara, yeah?'  He continued in the same friendly tone, but catching Stark's eye he glanced at the man's drawn weapon.  Stark had drawn it carefully, and his body still shielded it from the war dog's view.  'She's about six meters back from you, aren't you, girl,' he continued in the same friendly tone, 'and maybe two meters to your right.  What would you rate your chance of taking her out with a head s.h.o.t, there's a good girl?'

Stark understood.  'I'm an excellent s.h.o.t and very fast; but I'd say, only about a ten percent chance.  She's that fast.'

'Shit.'

'What about you?  Could you…?'

'If she'd let me draw my g.u.n, maybe.'

Pounding footsteps came around the side of the building, Brian Shanahan scrambling to a sudden stop on the loose gravel.

Faith's growl rose again.  There was another short hum and a heavier click from behind Stark.  He recognized the sound; and saw Garland's expression sour further.  'That's her rear machine-pistol.  She can independently target that,' Stark explained, helpfully.

Shanahan was staring in dismay.  'Faith!  Stand down, girl!  What're you doing, lass?'

Faith just growled.  And refused to stand down.

'I just love this fucking place,' said Garland.

Chapter 65 

This time when she came around, she was outside.  Jax was talking to her.  Softly, gently.  Reassuring.  She smiled, briefly, before she remembered how he'd betrayed her, betrayed Keepie-
Keepie!

Then Jackson's words penetrated the mush in her brain.  'Your Uncle is alive, Sara.  Tranquilized.  Sara, your Uncle is fine, he's not dead.  Sara, your-'

Keepie was alive?  Keepie was
alive
!

'But we have a little problem, Sara.'

She heard Faith growling, and turned her head to see.

The small motion made her gorge rise in her throat, and she had to struggle not to throw up.  Her head swam, her tongue felt thick, and she had an awful pain in her head.  And wrists.  They felt wet.  Why were her wrists wet?

She was strapped to a trolley, angled down the front steps of the Institute, her pulse pounding in her head.

'Your Uncle is fine, Sara, he's not dead, just tranq-'

'Okay, I get it, I'm not stupid.  Faith?  What's the matter, girl?'

Faith's growling suddenly stopped.  There was a short, hopeful whine.

'Yeah, I'm okay.  Sorta.'  She turned her head, more slowly, and saw Faith at the edge of the dark.  'Oh, wow!  Your new rockets are so pretty!  Oh!  You've got a
machine pistol
, too.  That is
so cool!
  I didn't know you had a machine pistol.'

From the top of the steps, Professor Sanders's voice came.  'Sara, it appears that Faith objects to you being arrested.  I need you to-'

She snorted.  'Well, I guess you'd better not arrest me, then.  Arrest me for what, anyway?  I didn't do anything!'

The huge detective loomed forward slightly; Faith growled.  He growled back.  'You assaulted four police officers and killed two, and say you did nothing wrong?'

'You attacked
us
first!  You shot K-  You shot my uncle.'  Though she had, maybe, killed a few of
them
.  And Jax said Keepie wasn't dead.  Keepie was alive!  The trouble was, her thoughts felt like they were struggling through molasses. 
W
hy was it so hard to think?  Oh.  Yeah.  Tranquilizers.
  But Keepie was alive!

Professor Sanders was speaking again.  'Sara.  Faith can't get you free.  She can't fire her rockets, or she'll kill you.  And even if she uses her lasers to take us out, you'll still be cuffed to the gurney.  There is also a stealth-chopper delivering a sniper to the area as we speak.  She'll be here in perhaps ten minutes.  I don't know where she will set up, but unless you convince your friend to stand down and disarm her weapons, I'm afraid Faith will be shot.  And she is only acting out of misguided loyalty to you.  We still need her here at the Institute.  Don't make your friend sacrifice herself.'

Leeth felt tears well up in her eyes.  Could the Director be bluffing?  But listening for it now, she could hear a
whuff-whuff-whuff
of some kind of silenced helicopter passing nearby.  For a moment she saw a dark oval shape cross the night sky from the same direction.

'Where's Keep-  Where's Uncle?  Is he really all right?  Let me see him.'

Professor Sanders came down the front steps.  Faith growled, and he stopped.  'Your Uncle has been arrested, Sara.  He's already been taken away.'

'I don't understand!  Everything had just gotten to be
perfect
!'  She and Godsson had killed Her; Jax was real sexy; she was learning how to control herself; and then…

'Sara!  Please.  Faith is running out of time.'

She heard the
whuffing-shushing
noise slow; stop.

'Let me free.'

'Sara, we can't-'

'Faith won't believe me unless I'm free.'  It was true; she knew it instinctively.  'I promise I won't hurt anyone.'  She felt suddenly tired.  So tired.  'Or try to escape.'

She'd only been trying to do good.

'Please.'

'Look, I saw what she did back inside,' Garland began, but Professor Sanders interrupted him.

'She's not lying, Garland.  I'll take full responsibility.  Unlock her, and do it quickly.  The sniper is moving into position.  And Faith really is rather exceptional.'

Leeth stared up at the huge cyborged cop, saw his frustrated anger.  She looked him in the eye.  'Please.  I'm sorry.  I thought you'd killed my uncle.'

For several seconds he said nothing.

'And if Faith gets shot because you didn't unlock me in time, I swear I will
hunt you down and kill you
.'

Strangely, at that, he smiled.  'Okay.  That I believe.'

'Quickly!'

'All right, all right!

'Faith,' she called out.  'It's okay.  They're letting me free, see?'

Faith growled, then whined.

But Garland already had her ankles loose, and she started sliding sideways off the trolley.

A few seconds later, with her wrists free, she stumbled gracelessly down the steps and across the gravel to her best friend in the whole world.  Faith prowled forward, stiff-legged, her rockets still aimed toward the steps and her rear gun tracking Mr Shanahan.

Then Leeth's arms went around her friend, and she collapsed next to her.  'There, girl, stand down, Faith.  Put your weapons away.  I just need to go away for a while.  You need to stay here, and keep… keep everything safe while I'm gone.  I'll be back, I promise.

'Oh Faith, I
promise
I'll come back as soon as I can.'
 

Chapter 66 

Later that evening, Professor Sanders, acting on a strong intuition, entered the cafeteria.  Sitting alone and hunched over a coffee cup, Brian Shanahan looked up with an eager expression of hope that faded the instant he saw who had come in.

'Not happy to see me, Brian?'

'No, it's not that, sir, it's just…' he gestured vaguely.

'You were hoping that a certain someone was going to surprise you one last time, eh?'

Shanahan looked embarrassed, but nodded.  'Yeah.  Dumb, huh?'

Poor fellow
, thought Sanders. 
In some ways he's been through the worst of the w
ringer.  Never even knew he was being played.  Used.
  'And how is her faithful companion?'

'Jesus.  You'd think she'd just had a litter of pups taken from her.  She spends all her time sitting at the front gates, waiting for Sara to come back.'

'And how about you, Brian?  How do you feel?'

'Like shit.  Sorry!  Jesus… I don't know.'  Shanahan wrung his hands.

'This relates to her latest escapade, I take it?  You were a little… sketchy on the details as to how she gained such complete access to your security system.'

Shanahan looked up, startled; even blushing slightly.

'I'm sorry, Brian, I haven't been as forthcoming as you probably deserved.  I do notice these things, you know.  I'm rather good at it, in fact.'

Shanahan stared at him as if the Professor had begun doing a striptease.

'I was ordered not to change the access codes on Godsson's cell, Brian, after this year's Solstice attack.'  He met his security officer's eyes squarely, waiting for him to process that information.

Shanahan gawped.  'But that's insane.  I mean,
Godsson!
  Ordered?  What do ye mean,
ordered
?  Who gives
you
orders?  Sir?'

Shanahan looked even more lost now than he had before the Director joined him.

'Here, give me your coffee.'

Shanahan dazedly handed it over, a strange feeling growing as he watched the Director warm it briefly in the microwave, then top it up.  Even through his daze
,
he noted the professor knew his preferred settings: when had the Director taken the time to learn
that?
  Then at the drinks dispenser he used his privileges to add a very generous dash of Irish whiskey.  Then returned to the table and passed it back across to him.

'I think you'll need this,' the Director offered.

Shanahan found himself shaking his head.

'Drink up,' Sanders urged him, not unkindly.  He even looked faintly embarrassed.

Shanahan took a deep gulp, preparing for bad news, feeling the coffee and whiskey burn as it went down.  Despite himself, he relaxed.  Braced for the worst, but somehow ready.  'Go on.  I'm already sitting down, after all.'

Sanders's embarrassment appeared to deepen at the small attempt at humor.

'I'm afraid you've been rather set up, Brian.  Rather a long time ago, actually.  By a very… important person for the well-being of our country.'

Shanahan just stared at him.

'Jackson Stark – he wasn't a private investigator I hired.  And like you, I'm sorry to say he too was set up.  For him, I was ordered to simply say I had become suspicious of Alex's relationship with his under-age ward, and ask him to investigate.  The maintenance work was just his cover story.  But I was ordered
not
to brief him properly.  Then to stand back, as it were, and let things happen.  Just as I was instructed not to have you change the passcode on Godsson's cell.'

Shanahan took another large gulp of his Irish coffee.  'But
why
, by all that's Holy?  And who has the authority to take risks like that with
Godsson?
  That's- that's beyond insane!  It's bloody madness, is what it is!'