Lyons barely managed to keep her in sight. She was in good condition and fast on her feet. She seemed better able to steer through the late-rush-hour crush. He followed her for two blocks before finding a sidewalk sufficiently free of pedestrians that he managed to gain ground. She glanced over her shoulder, spotted him and quickly turned into a new building.
The skyscraper was another new hotel, not yet ready to be opened to the public. Lyons paused just inside the door, looking for Deborah. He wondered how Atlantians knew which building they were in. This one had all the usual features of Atlanta architecture, including glass-walled elevators and an acre of forest glade in the middle of the lobby.
Lyons guessed that the construction workers were using a back or side door and that someone had left the front door to the lobby open by mistake. Whoever's carelessness it was, it probably meant that Devine would get away.
Lyons was about to cross the lobby when he heard a rustle under one of the dogwood shrubs. He plunged into the foliage.
A foot shot out and kicked his legs out from under him. At the same time, a small fist tried to catch him on the vulnerable spot behind the ear. He rolled as he fell and grabbed the wrist just behind the fist. His other hand grabbed the arm above the elbow. He could have locked the elbow and dislocated something as he rolled. Instead he allowed the arm to bend and tossed Deborah across the path of his fall.
Lyons hit on his back. The freshly dug soil was as soft as falling on a mattress. Deborah tucked and rolled like a ball, flattening a patch of plants. Lyons lunged after her, staining the knees of his slacks. He caught her ankle and dragged on it before she could regain her feet.
"Hey, officer, we're on the same side," Lyons grunted.
She took a swipe at his head with her closed fist. He managed to deflect the hand upward with his elbow.
Lyons twisted her foot. She was forced to roll onto her stomach. Her hands scraped up fistfuls of soft dirt trying to find something to pull on. In the midst of her frantic clawing, she stopped.
"What did you say?" she asked suddenly.
She had propped herself on her right elbow and was looking over her shoulder and down the length of her leg to where Lyons lay, one hand on her ankle and the other on her foot. Lyons was grinning at her. There was genuine amusement in the usually icy eyes.
"I reminded you that we're on the same side."
"What side?"
"Well, it's this way, officer."
"Where do you get this officer jazz? Do you think you're in the Army?"
He let go of her foot and sat up.
"Yeah. It's a dirty war, but we're on the same side — trying to rid the world of a few more terrorist scum."
She was cautious, examining the words, looking for some indication of whether they were a trap.
"What gave you the idea that I'm some sort of cop?"
Lyons rolled his eyes. "Oh lady, are you ever some sort of cop. The looks you gave me had me uncertain right to the moment you lured me into your little jungle here and jumped me."
"Can I have my foot back?"
Lyons let go of her foot, pushed his hands into the rich loam and brought both feet under himself. He was prepared to spring, if she took off or tried attacking him again.
She did neither. She rolled onto her back, then sat up. She pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs. She sat there, staring at Lyons.
"You say you weren't sure. That means you were suspicious," she said.
"Yeah. You gave yourself away in a lot of little ways, but I didn't see how you'd be trusted to keep an eye on me, if you were that obvious. So, I thought maybe you were testing me. How come they trust you so completely?"
"They don't trust me at all. That's why we were followed. Put your rotten fruit in a separate basket so it won't affect the rest," she said. "How did I give myself away?"
"You're too calm, too sure of yourself. And the way you handled that gunman in the parking lot. That was a takedown usually taught in police academies and seldom elsewhere."
"You mean I should have been more nervous?"
"No, Deborah... nice name that... but what do your friends call you?"
She hesitated for a moment and then smiled, almost shyly. "My friends call me Dibs."
"Well, Dibs, I gave you some severe pokes about killing the defenseless. All it did was make you try to figure out what sort of a nut I am. A terrorist reacts with anger when you suggest that they pick only on easy targets."
"I thought you must be insane. I bought it, when you told me that you enjoyed hurting people."
"I don't enjoy making anything suffer, but I will if I must. That doesn't mean I'm sane, just effective."
"You make weird jokes," she told him. "What kind of a cop are you?"
"The deadly type."
She searched his face to see signs of laughter. She did not find any.
"What kind of a cop are you?" he asked.
"State. We've spent months and I'm the first one to get inside a Harassment Initiation Team, but I can't say I'm a trusted team member."
"Even less so, after we return without our tails."
"What happened to them?" she asked.
"I imagine they were taken care of before they could take care of us."
She shuddered. "Why take care of us? We're following orders."
"Some undercover cop. You do nothing but follow orders, huh?"
"Well, as far as HIT is concerned."
"Don't underestimate them. Those were professional terrorists following us around. Jishin wouldn't waste their energy just to give us backup.''
Deborah shuddered. "You make it sound like we should be under this earth and not on it."
"Let's just say we're into it, but still kicking."
She put her forearms on his shoulders. Her hands nervously twisted the hair on the back of his head. She locked eyes with Lyons.
"Don't get me wrong. I volunteered for this. I wouldn't back out if I were offered the chance, but God! I wantto continue kicking!"
"Of course."
He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her into his lap. Her arms went around him.
"Only those who believe that life is precious risk their own lives to defend it. So, of course you don't want to die. People with death wishes find easier ways to fulfill them."
She rested her head on his shoulder.
"We'd better get back to the war," Lyons said after a long silence.
She slid off his lap onto her back. Her arms stayed around him and pulled him down on top of her.
"Let's remind ourselves we're alive," she whispered.
Lyons laughed. He knewhe was alive.
When they finished making love, when their energy abated, they lay sweating, and panting, tangled in the midst of a huge circle of ruined shrubbery and flowers.
Later they found an employee lavatory with running water. After ten minutes of washing and brushing, they were as presentable as they were going to get. Deborah used the opportunity to telephone in a report.
As the two wandered out of the lobby, Lyons looked back at the desolated jungle.
"People should really be more careful about locking doors," he muttered.
11
July 12, 1905 hours, Smyrna, Georgia
Hal Brognola leaned back in the comfortable leather chair behind the desk in the president's office at Elwood Electronic Industries. He sipped black coffee from a mug and looked across the rim at Lao Ti. She was sitting in a chair in front of the desk, her legs tucked under her. There was a pot of tea on a side table close by and she held a handleless, Japanese teacup.