She turned to look at Gabe, who had a bad look on his face.
“What is it?”
“We’ve only got one bullet left.”
“Let’s hope we don’t even need that one.”
They were at the door of Command Central. Marina looked at Gabe. He had a grim look on his grayish face; she wondered how much longer he could go on.
It might not be an issue.
He held up his fingers: three, two, one — he slammed his good shoulder into the door.
It didn’t move.
“They’ve secured it somehow. How did they know?” Marina wanted to scream. She remembered that Varden had insisted she go to the toilet. Maybe that had been his way of getting rid of her and Victor so there wouldn’t be any interference.
How was it locked? None of the other doors …..Marina saw the faint outline of a panel door. Jabbing at it with her poor fingernails, she managed to slide it open and display the now-familiar tongue-tabs.
The only way in was with Aleksandrov DNA.
Perhaps this would be the only time Marina was glad she carried those genes.
She took a tab, stuck it on her tongue to moisten it, then fed it into the slot.
The little machine grabbed it, and Marina waited, clutching Gabe’s wrist, hoping she had enough Aleksandrov that it would recognize her.
Then, miraculously, the door moved.
They were through the entrance before it was more than two feet wide, surprising the group at the computer table.
Gabe brandished the gun. “Freeze. Now move slowly to the right. Marina, get the code.”
As soon as Varden and Roman were out of reaching distance, Marina sprinted into the room and snatched the green plastic sheet from the computer control area. She ran back to Gabe as he stood, holding the gun steadily on the group.
“You’ll never make it in time,” Varden told them. His words were general, but his eyes fastened on Marina. Again, she felt as if he were trying to tell her something … something subtle. He stared at her … was that the slightest of nods? “Nice try though. You’ve got brains and nerve, as well as good looks.” Even now, his voice was mocking. But he’d given the barest incline of his head.
Gabe grabbed Marina’s arm — partly, she thought, to help him stay on his feet, and partly to show their solidarity. “Wish we could stay and join your little victory party, but I don’t think there’s going to be one. I’m going to suggest that you not move for a moment while we make a phone call.”
Marina took the phone and pushed the redial button while Gabe focused the gun on Roman, who, despite his supposed fear of firearms seemed ready to bolt. Which was greater, Marina thought, waiting for the phone to connect: his fear of guns or his fear of failure?
The phone connected and Helen Darrow’s voice blared through. “We’ve got it. Do you have him?” Marina asked.
“Not yet. Ambassador Bridge was too crowded; almost there though. You got the code?”
“Yes. Write this down,” Marina began, starting to translate the code, which was written out in Skaladeska prose. “Green to the left—”
Roman and Varden moved at the same time, splitting, and Gabe fired reflexively at Varden as he shouted, “Run Marina!” He whirled, slamming the gun at Roman’s face when he threw himself toward them.
Marina didn’t need to be told twice, but she yanked Gabe after her and pounded the button to close the door.
They tore down the hallway, and the sound of shouts blared after them.
Gabe wouldn’t make it far; they needed to stop and finish the phone call — how much time did they have left? — they’d never make it safely out of there.
The jumble of thoughts crammed in her head galvanized Marina to run faster, pulling Gabe along after her. Their pursuers couldn’t be far behind.
As they rounded the corner, Victor appeared.
Marina readied herself to push past him, mow him down if she had to … and at the last minute, she changed her mind. Grabbed his arm. He was going to step up this time. “Get us out of here,” she said, close to his face. “Or I will shoot you. I’ve got nothing to lose.”
He blanched, but gave a short nod, his Adam’s apple echoing it.
Gasping for breath, she looked at Gabe. He was fading fast.
Could she trust her father? Even with a gun pointing at him?
She looked at him, knowing she didn’t have any time ….but what did her instincts say? Could she trust the man who’d lied to her for as long as she remembered? The man who’d never put anyone ahead of himself? The man who would have let Gabe die?
She had to.
“Help me with him,” she told Victor, still pointing the gun at him. “How far?”
“It’s not far.” He gave her an enigmatic look. “I did mean to give you the gun.”
“Come on. Get us out of here.”
He looped one thin arm around Gabe, and it was ludicrous to think that he’d be of any help … but between him and Marina, they managed to move the three of them quickly down a passage that blended so well into the wall that Marina would never have found it.
She felt the time ticking away, and she chafed. But they couldn’t stop. The voices and pounding feet were too close behind; getting closer.
They couldn’t stop yet.
Suddenly, they were at a door, and Victor was pulling a tongue-tab from a small panel. He licked it, and fed it into the machine, and the door opened.
Air. Fresh air. The grey light of midnight during an Arctic summer.
She became aware of a screaming alarm; a siren blaring a warning. One look at Victor — for she’d ceased to think of him as Dad — told her he was responsible.
He would not look at her.
Marina pulled Gabe through the door, and found herself on a small hill, covered with tufts of brown-green grass. Four tall pines stood like sentinels over looking the steppes below.
Marina grabbed Gabe’s arm, trying not to think about what time it was back in Detroit, and ran. As if he, too, was spurred on by the fresh air, he picked up speed and kept up with her as they dashed over the uneven ground.
As they came to the cleft of a hill, Marina heard their pursuers. She glanced behind and saw Victor, standing at the doorway, watching as a group of men dressed in pale Skaladeska clothing tramped through the door and after them.
Marina turned back to watch her own footsteps and stumbled to a halt seconds before Gabe did.
They stood at the top of a small hill, and down below them — ten feet or so — was blue-grey water, as far as the eye could see.
45
Helen looked at her watch. Eleven-fifteen.
They had twenty-five minutes to apprehend the bomber and reconnect with Gabe and Marina Alexander, who were God knew where, and have her translate the code ….and hope that it worked.
Her underarms were soaking wet and her heart drummed so fast in her chest that she thought it was going to erupt from her body like Alien.
First things first. She had to do her part.
“Did you get him yet?” she bellowed into her cell phone. Thank God she’d had some manpower near the tunnel that went under the Detroit River to Windsor and sent them over immediately. Fortunately, the Windsor police were as dedicated to keeping the peace as she and her people were, and they didn’t start any turf wars or jurisdiction games.
There was always the chance that their target had moved; but he couldn’t have gone far if he was keeping control of the bombs.
Could he?
“He’s got a green and blue shirt on. Dark hair. He could be in a vehicle, or standing outside. Or in a nearby building.” Stay calm. Follow the plan.
At last, the Taurus her aide was driving blasted through the Tunnel onto the Canadian side of the river and turned north. Her fingertips were tingling in earnest now; she knew she was close.