Dubious, Sinclair looked at Laura as they quick-stepped after Genda. “She’s in charge?”
Genda called over her shoulder, “Yes, she is. And who might you be?”
Laura’s warning look checked his response. “Um . . . Bill,” Sinclair said.
Genda led them around to the front. “A good omen. Everyone knows I like big bills.” She chuckled at her own joke as they all ducked at the sound of gunfire.
Armed military personnel ran past them toward the Mall. She stopped next to a Stryker, one of the army’s armored assault vehicles. “Now, let me bring you up to speed. We’re staging a diversion on the other side of the Mall to draw off their forces, but it probably won’t work very well. They’re intent on the Guildhouse and have already taken over the front of the Hoover Building. That’s what all the gunfire is, if you were wondering.”
She slipped her arm around Whiting. “I’m sorry, Ian. I tried to get Rhys to release Terryn, but he refuses.” She waved her free hand. “I swear, the man sees conspiracies everywhere. Anyway, I’ll try to get him to change his mind, but you’ll have to go in without him. Everything’s nearly in place.”
“Genda, you need to slow down. What is the mission plan?” Laura asked.
Genda turned to Whiting. “You haven’t told her?”
Whiting looked both embarrassed and baffled. “I thought we were talking theoretically.”
Genda patted his arm as if to soothe him. “Ian and I were discussing the situation on your way in. They’re using a ring formation around the Monument with the majority of their forces in the outer ring. Their plan appears to be to disable our fey forces, which, frankly, they’ve done, so we’re turning the tables and using mainly human forces and a ground attack to get you to the Monument. Ian thinks he can deactivate the leanansidhe pod once you secure it.”
Sinclair stared at Laura. “Once we secure it.”
“I can’t go in without Terryn macCullen. Cress will not be in her right mind. I need someone she trusts,” Whiting said.
Genda patted him on the chest. “Oh, Ian, you were her doctor or something, weren’t you? Of course she’ll trust you.”
He shook his head. “That’s a huge risk, Genda. We haven’t spoken in years.”
“I’ll go,” Laura said. Everyone stared at her. She shrugged. “I’m her friend.”
“You’re not going in there without me,” Sinclair said. Genda turned to him with a frown. Sinclair shrugged. “I’m her friend.”
Genda sighed with deep exasperation. “Really, I do not understand how Terryn ran his department with all this . . . this . . . friendship, but we need to get this done. Fine, friends, whatever is necessary. Ian thinks the leanansidhe is on the main level of the Washington Monument—don’t you, dear?—so we’re going to provide air cover while you storm the plaza. This DeWinter fellow is either at the top or the bottom of the Monument or in the Blackhawk.”
“Blackhawk?” Laura interrupted.
Tapping her hand off the side of her forehead, Genda shook head. “Yes, sorry. So many details have cropped up. They have a Blackhawk in the air. It’s armed with two hellfire missiles, but I don’t think we need to worry about it.”
“Are you serious?” Sinclair asked, dumbfounded.
She nodded vigorously. “Oh, yes, very. They’ve had a clear shot of the White House and the Capitol, but haven’t fired. The humans are quite nervous about the whole situation, but, really, it’s obvious they’ve been moving in on the Guildhouse for the last thirty minutes. Our analysis is that they’re waiting to get their ground force closer before attacking and picking off anyone who tries to escape. They only have two missiles, after all. I don’t think they’ll waste them on an unidentified truck.”
Amazed, Sinclair looked at Laura. “Only two missiles?”
She smoothed her hair back. “You’ll be much too busy to worry about them.”
Genda gestured to one of her bodyguards, who then banged on the back of the armored truck. The rear door of the Stryker opened to reveal a half dozen military personnel in combat uniform. “They’re all Special Forces. I’m told they’re very good.” She glanced down at her phone. “Oh, the F-16s are turning. With any luck, they’ll take out the Blackhawk on their first pass. You’d best get going. Let these boys do their jobs.”
They startled at a barrage of gunfire from the park across the street. A line of Legacy fighters was pushing toward them. Bullets whistled through the air, ricocheting off the front of the Guildhouse. Genda peered around the side of the Stryker. “Oh, damn, we’ve cut it too close. Keep your cell phone on so I can update you as necessary.” She backpedaled away from the truck. “Good luck! By the way, cute boots, Mariel. You’ll have to tell me where you got them when you get back. Okay, boys, time to get inside.”
Her bodyguards fired back up the street as Genda trotted behind them back around the corner. Laura jumped into the Stryker as Sinclair helped Whiting in behind her. The truck pulled out as Sinclair closed the door and moved to the front of the vehicle. He sat and looked at Laura. “Is that woman crazy?”
Laura smirked. “A little, but very efficient. Do you think you can deactivate the pod, Mr. Whiting?”
He shifted on his cramped perch. “That’s the one thing I’m sure of. I built in a shutdown.”
“Convenient,” said Sinclair.
Puzzled, Whiting cocked his head. “No, it isn’t. I’m a scientist. The pod is too experimental not to have a built-in fail-safe. That would be a foolish risk.”
Sinclair grinned. “As opposed to, say, getting hit with a hellfire missile.”
“What do you need me to do, Professor?” Laura asked.
“I’ll need you to talk to her, persuade her that everything is all right. She’s going to be very afraid. Once she’s calm, I’ll put her into a sleep trance, and this will be over,” he said.
Laura leaned forward. “I’m not going into a fire zone unarmed. I’d like a weapon, please.”
“Make that two,” said Sinclair.
A soldier handed two rifles down the line. “We were told you were cleared for these.”
Sinclair whistled as he took one. The rifle weighed almost eight pounds, with an infrared scope mounted on the top rail. “An Mk-16? Can I keep it?”
“No,” Laura said. She pocketed an extra magazine of ammunition. She didn’t like guns. Guns were meant to produce blood at a minimum, death as a matter of course. She almost never carried one, but under the circumstances, she knew it would be foolish not to. Without being able to tap essence, she was limited to her body’s own reserves, and once that was gone, it was gone.
An explosion rocked the truck. Tense silence swept through the back of the truck as everyone became quiet. Two soldiers returned fire through the top port. The longer they drove, the more the Stryker rang with the bullet impacts. Nothing pierced the armoring, but that didn’t lower anyone’s anxiety. They bounced as the Stryker jumped a curb, then skidded on a soft surface. They had arrived on the Mall.
Another explosion jolted the truck, and it lurched to a stop. The six soldiers around them readied to disembark. The vehicle commander ordered a smoke grenade launched. Someone hit the rear door, and the soldiers jumped out with their weapons primed. Laura slid to the rear, the air filled with gunfire and smoke. They were a lot closer than she had imagined they’d be, barely fifty yards away. She craned her neck out, but the smoke limited her field of vision. Somewhere above, she heard the rotor-blade whir of the Blackhawk.
Soldiers lay on the ground nearby, firing at the main entrance to the Monument. Theirs wasn’t the only team. She hadn’t expected that, but now she realized taking the Monument with six men wasn’t a likely scenario. People ran back and forth through the smoke. Screams reached her ears as the sound of gunfire dissipated.
“We’re inside. Still meeting resistance,” the vehicle commander called out.
“Why aren’t we out there?” Sinclair asked.
Laura kept her eyes on the entrance. “We’re here to protect Whiting and get Cress. It’s not a war-game exercise.”