“Suit yourself,” he sighed. “But you don’t know what you’re missing.” He tossed the food in his pack, zipped it, pulled the straps over his shoulders, and limped off across the misty meadow. Ghost followed, always trailing at a discreet distance.
Even when he’d run to catch the tail end of a passing train. She kept up with the train, floating through the jungle just off the tracks. They’d covered a lot of ground that way.
Talking seemed to help. He acted like she was a normal little girl, like she wasn’t a child soldier sent to kill him. He talked about Jerusha, his home in Minnesota, Jerusha, his family, his friends, Jerusha, places he’d visited, Jerusha… He didn’t mention Lucien, or what had happened to him.
It was a one-sided conversation, of course. For all he knew, she couldn’t understand a word of it. But that wasn’t the point. He was friendly. Un-threatening. An adult that wouldn’t hurt her.
But the more he talked, the more she hesitated before backing away. And sometimes, if he pretended not to watch, he could see from the corners of his eyes how she’d cock her head, turning an ear toward him as he spoke.
Ghost was listening.
A guy didn’t have to be John Fortune to figure out that she was a product of the Nshombos’ secret laboratories. She was one in a hundred, one of the lucky few who drew an ace rather than a joker or the black queen. If lucky was the right word. Because the way Wally figured it, once her card turned, that’s when the worst part started. He wondered how much time had been spent brainwashing her, desensitizing her to violence, teaching her to kill, forcing her to practice. Just as they would have done to Lucien, back in Nyunzu.
Wally didn’t know a ton about kids, but he refused to believe the damage was permanent. He refused to believe that such a little girl could be forever broken, like Humpty Dumpty.
So he talked to Ghost. He figured that was as good a start as anything.
He kept to the meadow; good cover was getting hard to find in this part of the PPA, which was largely open grassland. But the mist and rain meant a helicopter would have to get pretty low to see him. Low enough that he’d hear it long before it saw him. And walking across open ground was something of a relief, after days and days thrashing through the jungle. His leg still hurt, where a bullet had grazed through the rust and where Ghost had tried to pry out a rivet; it wasn’t healing. The bandages came away stained with greyish yellow seepage when he cleaned the wound every evening.
As long as he got to Bunia while he could still do some damage. He had to find somebody to care for Ghost, too.
Kongoville, Congo
People’s Paradise of Africa
Noel drove the rattling old tow truck through the darkened streets while Mollie sat nervously beside him. They both wore black balaclavas to cover their faces. He was in his Lilith form, and dressed in Lilith’s trademark black-slacks, boots, silk shirt, and a light jacket to cover his shoulder rig. It was hotter than hell but he wanted to be well armed, and didn’t necessarily want his compatriots to know just how well armed. One boot had a small built-in holster for a tiny ankle gun. The other had two sheaths for knives. He had another gun in a holster clipped onto the waistband of her pants.
He took the final turn without braking. The bank was directly ahead of them. The goal was the ATM that had been retrofitted onto the white marble exterior. It had all the beauty of a wart on a beauty queen.
Noel swung the truck around and backed in close to the ATM. Mollie jumped out, and using her power thrust a chain and a hook through the marble and hooked them around the ATM.
She jumped back into the cab, and he gunned the engine. The ATM tore out of the wall with a sound like a bridge collapsing. They drove down the street with the ATM box bouncing along behind them like a hog-tied calf. It threw up sparks each time it hit the pavement.
A glance in the rearview mirror showed security guards boiling through the front doors of the bank. Noel laughed and was briefly disconcerted by Lilith’s icy, lilting tones. He was once again losing track of who he was at any given moment.
“What now?” Mollie asked through lips narrowed by tension.
“We pull out the last guard.”
“How-” Mollie broke off when Noel suddenly stopped the truck. “What?”
“Out,” Noel ordered.
As he jumped out Noel reached beneath the seat and extracted the final element of his plan-a big bag of money. Once in the street he threw it hard. It hit the pavement and burst open, sending dollar bills flying in every direction.
The guards who were pelting down the street like hounds after a fox checked at the sight of the money.
The other cars on the street jerked to a stop. People jumped out and began grabbing up money. More people emerged from the apartments over the shops. The guards joined in the melee, trying to grab money, keeping people from grabbing money. A final guard came barreling through the front doors of the bank.
Noel grabbed Mollie around the waist and teleported them both into Mathias’s hotel room in the Hilton. He then pulled out his phone and called Jaako, waiting in Cumming’s apartment. “Go,” he ordered.
He snatched up a small mountaineering rifle. It had been retrofitted with powerful magnets rather than spikes. It would carry the climbing rope to the walls, and they would use the rope to maneuver in the vault. He handed the rifle to Mollie. “Don’t drop it.”
Mathias stubbed out his ever-present cigarette and came into the circle of Noel’s arms. He drew in a sharp breath when he was pressed against Lilith’s bosom, but Noel suspected he was reacting to the feel of the gun more than the flesh.
Noel took them between.
It was disconcerting as hell, and Noel felt his stomach trying to climb past the back of his tongue as they appeared in the center of the vault, spinning in the air about seven feet above the floor. He swallowed hard.
Mollie squeaked, and dropped the rifle.
“Scheisse!” Mathias yelled.
Noel managed to get his toe under the rifle and kick it toward the ceiling. Mathias pointed at it, and it began to float. Mollie made another funny noise. Noel followed her gaze to a wall-mounted camera. The lens seemed to be vomiting flesh. Noel had a visceral memory of watching his grandmother grinding pork for sausage. “Be ready,” Noel said to Mathias.
The flesh stream began to expand and take on human features. Only Jaako’s lower legs remained in the camera lens. The Finnish ace had magnets strapped to his hands. He twisted sideways and slapped a hand against the steel of the safety deposit boxes. It was like watching taffy being pulled as he flexed and squirmed and pulled his legs out of the camera. The magnets gave him some purchase for the final tugs, and then Mathias took over making Jaako weightless.
“Okay. Good,” Noel said. He fired the grappling line toward the doorway to the gold room. The first magnet hit on its side and didn’t catch. Noel reeled it in before it hit the floor. He tried again. This time the magnet held.
Everyone held hands, and Noel hauled them along the rope to the doorway. The pallets bulked like the backs of prehistoric beasts in the room. Mollie stared wide-eyed at the gold ingots. “Wow,” she breathed.
“Good-bye, North Dakota, eh?” Noel said with a smile. “Mollie, do your thing.”
She stared hard at the back wall of the inner vault. A wide doorway appeared. It was dark beyond the threshold.
“I thought you set up work lights?” Noel said to Mathias.
“I did-”
Jaako said, “Oh, crap.” There was a metallic shrieking and one of the interior walls slid from its pocket cavity. It was heading straight at them as they hung helpless in midair.
Several things happened at once. The pallets of gold lifted a few feet off the floor, and Noel hit the floor of the vault with a jar. The others rained down around him. They all went frantically scrambling out of the way of the oncoming wall of metal. At the same moment alarms began to whoop, an earsplitting sound inside the metal vault.