“What! You can’t just—”
“Grogan, take her down to Renne.”
Gauntlets grabbed her upper arm, metal fingers closing painfully. “Yow! Hey, I found them, you could at least let me cover the arrest for my report.”
“I’d advise against it. This is not a safe environment.”
“I was doing fine until you blundered in.” She paused. If Myo hadn’t known the lawyers were in the clinic, what…?
Grogan pulled her toward the stairs. The suit was too strong for Mellanie to resist. “You’ve got to give me something, Myo.”
“We’ll talk later. A long talk.”
Mellanie didn’t like the sound of that.
“Tactical update,” Paula informed the arrest teams. “We now have three more confirmed hostiles on site in addition to Bernadette. Possible locations: one in the Nicholas suite, two in the Fenay. Be advised, there could be more. This appears to be where Starflyer agents receive their wetwiring.”
The map in her virtual vision displayed the positions of the armor suits. She quickly adapted their interdiction roles, assigning three members to each lawyer.
“Hoshe, can you review the arrays we’ve sequestered? I’d like to confirm what Mellanie told us.”
“We’re working on it now. I didn’t know she was that good.”
“Mellanie is starting to interest me greatly. But we’ll have to deal with the clinic first.”
“Third-floor net shut down,” Hoshe said. “We’re establishing our programs on four and five, preparing to insert on six.”
“That’s good.” Paula examined the map. “Warren, move out into the fourth floor.”
“Acknowledged.”
“Renne, when Mellanie reaches your team I want you to hold her in custody but separate from the rest of the clinic staff; do not let her call anyone. That’s important.”
“Understood.”
“How’s the perimeter?”
“Solid and holding. It looks like half the city police are here.”
“Damn, that’s what I was worried about. Someone up here is going to notice what we’re doing.”
“Confirm the three admissions matching the lawyers,” Hoshe said. “Mellanie was telling the truth.”
“We’ve been exposed,” Warren Halgarth called. “Four staff members, one client walked out in front of us. Can’t contain them all.”
Paula cursed, though they’d got a lot further with their dark incursion than she’d expected. “Everyone, go hot. They know we’re here. Arrest teams move in immediately. And find me Bernadette.” She stood to one side, allowing the rest of the third-floor team to deploy out of the stairwell.
“Shit,” Warren exclaimed. “The client is weapons wetwired. Challenging us.”
“Is it one of the lawyers?” Paula’s map was updating. Teams were deploying along each floor. Matthew Oldfield was leading five officers to the Fenay suite, while John King was closing on the Nicholas. Barely a third of the clinic staff had been taken down to Renne’s team, where they’d be safe.
She heard the dull rumble of an explosion. Small flecks of dust shook free from the pipes running up the concrete stairwell. More explosions began. There were screams. Hoshe used aggressive infiltrators and took complete control of the clinic’s net.
Paula drew her plasma carbines, and moved out into the corridor. People were opening doors, peering out, yelling. Doors were slammed shut. The armor suits kicked them down again, hauling out the terrified staff and clients. John King and his two teammates blew the door to the Nicholas suite. A plasma bolt flew out. The screaming in the corridor reached a crescendo.
“Deactivate your weapons and come out,” John’s suit speaker boomed.
There was a big explosion inside the Nicholas suite. Debris and smoke billowed out into the corridor.
“He blew a hole in the floor,” John called. “Jumped down to the second level.”
“Acknowledged,” Marina called. “We’re deploying.”
John’s team charged through into the suite. Paula was waving the other members of the third-floor team along the corridor as they half carried staff and clients through the miasma. “Do not leave any of them unaccompanied,” she warned. “Medical forensics must clear them first.”
“Visual on Bernadette,” Warren called. “We’re engaging.”
Paula turned and raced back for the stairwell. Another explosion cut the lights. She was seeing the clinic through microradar and infrared. Sprinklers went off, and the fire alarm shrilled. The ceiling bulged down just in front of her, long cracks multiplying down the walls on either side.
“She won’t surrender,” Warren said. “Joined by another hostile. Both wetwired.”
“Can you disable her?” Paula asked.
“Not a chance.”
Paula reached the stairwell as a volley of explosions reverberated around the concrete shaft. Emergency lighting came on, an intense yellow slicing through the cloying gray smog that was swirling down the broad shaft. A long convoy of armor-suited figures was escorting cowering prisoners down the stairs. She pushed past them.
“Two hostiles engaged,” Matthew said. “They were in the Fenay suite.”
“Capture alive if you can,” Paula said.
“Do my best.”
“Got some debris down here,” Renne said. “Glass falling all over the plaza.”
“Any bodies?” Paula asked. “If their force fields are good enough they might try to jump clear.”
“None yet.”
“Watch for it.”
The explosions and sound of plasma shots had ended by the time Paula rushed out onto the clinic’s fourth floor. There were no elegant treatment rooms anymore; half of the walls were gone, opening up the entire level. Wreckage was strewn everywhere, some smoking, the rest saturated with water and blue suppression foam. Most of the ceiling was down as well, exposing the Greenford’s main structural beams. Fortunately, they seemed to be intact. Water was gushing out of several thick pipes to form large filthy pools across the floor. The glass windows had all been blown out.
Several bodies were lying amid the destruction.
“Hellfire,” Paula exclaimed.
“Sorry,” Warren said. “We had to terminate them.”
“Okay. Where are the corpses? We need to run a DNA confirmation.”
“Over here.” He scrambled over the piles of rubble, leading her around the tower’s core. Several armor suits were busy digging injured survivors out.
“We think these two.”
Inside the helmet, Paula wrinkled up her nose at the sight. The two bodies had been badly burned, then crushed by steel beams and concrete sections. Filthy water lapped around their scorched extremities. The remnants of their clothing were wrapped around them, scraps of blackened cloth. Paula recognized a fragment of the deep blue trousers that Bernadette had been wearing as they pursued her across Tridelta for most of the day. Parts of her body were untouched, corresponding to the bands of an insert force field skeleton. Her arms had the ruptures Paula knew came from internal power cells igniting, the kind used to power weapons. She pulled out a small DNA reader unit, and touched the stubby sampler prong against an unblemished segment of skin.
“It’s her,” she said as the data ran down her virtual vision.
The other corpse was slightly larger. Probably male. Paula examined him. Damage to his limbs had all been caused by external force. He certainly hadn’t been using a force field. His burned outer layers were no use to her DNA reader; she had to clench her jaw and push the stubby prong through the damage so it could reach internal organs. “Doesn’t look like he was wetwired.” Then she noticed the shreds of his clothes, the fabric the same dark red of the Saffron Clinic uniform. The DNA wasn’t registered in the Senate Security database. She told her e-butler to access Tridelta police and civic files.
“Are you sure this is the second one?” she asked.
“Not really,” Warren said. “This is the location where all the resistance came from.”
“But you’re sure two people were firing at you?”
“That’s a definite.”
“John, have you got your target?”
“Yes. The DNA is weird. I’ve got variants across the body, but some of it matches Daltra.”