“I not use gun.”
“This time you do, Yogi.”
“It’s Yorgi.”
“I know, but I like Yogi better. Get used to it. If it’s a choice of kill or be killed I’d rather you shot first. The mercs these Pythians hired won’t lose a moment’s sleep over killing you.”
“But…”
“This is my world now.” Alicia pressed the weapon into his hands, holding it there. “Trust what I tell you and take the bloody gun.”
“All right.”
The doors whooshed open and again the couple drifted arm in arm toward their goal. Using the service elevator had meant they didn’t have to bypass the mercs’ rooms and risk discovery. It also meant their target room was closer. Yorgi slipped out a programmed keycard microcontroller and pushed it into the slot on the door of the hotel room they had booked over the Internet but had not had sufficient time to check into. Alicia shielded his body, leaning in and laughing. This time, nobody saw them. The hotel corridors were empty at midday and the maids had already cleaned the second floor.
Yorgi entered the room and stripped down to a tight black bodysuit that covered every inch of his flesh. Pulling on the gloves and placing the wrecking bar into a zip pocket, he shrugged into the backpack. “Simple but effective,” he said. “Now, you stay here.”
Alicia nodded but followed him anyway.
“Curiosity killed the cat.” Yorgi took deep breaths. “You know where that came from and what happened.”
Alicia could have responded with a number of comments but, not wanting to disrupt the little guy’s focus, she settled upon a moment of silence. Yorgi used the respite to break the window lock and slide the sash upward.
Alicia couldn’t refrain from commenting. “You know there’s no balcony out there?”
“Empty wall is better,” Yorgi said with a smile and disappeared.
Alicia ran to the window, believing she knew the thief’s trade secret. Sure enough he was clinging to the sheer brick wall, fingers and shoe tips inserted into tiny depressions, searching around for the next.
Buildering, she thought. If someone of Yorgi’s reputation used the illegal sport as a primary means of progress then he had to be world class. She herself had learned the art of buildering as a Special Forces technique, though not at his level. Of course, he would only normally employ it at night, in darkness, and after thoroughly researching every aspect of his intended target. Today, he didn’t have such luxury. Finding the samples and stopping the Pythians was paramount.
She watched him advance, feeling a new surge of respect for the man. Buildering, known as urban climbing, counted on an individual being able to climb any vertical wall, finding the correct foot and handholds to complement the perfect body positioning. The body did not always go forwards, but moved around an axis, gaining ground. The skill, concentration and the strength required was phenomenal, although these days only older buildings could be properly scaled.
Alicia made sure the door was locked and her weapons were ready. By the time she returned to her position, Yorgi had gained the first window and was peering inside. What he saw had to be positive for he took out the wrecking bar and inserted its thin end into the window frame. Then, seconds later, he reached inside and struggled with the window itself. This was potentially the trickiest maneuver, since the window was clearly stuck and required pressure to force it free. Too much pressure would result in Yorgi losing his balance and plunging to certain death. Too little and he wouldn’t gain entry.
Alicia found her knuckles had turned white before Yorgi dropped inside the first hotel room. Without delay his voice spoke inside her head, perfectly calm. “Empty room. Messy bed so someone was here. Bottles of whisky and used glasses. No gear though. I move on to next.”
Alicia watched his head re-emerge, knowing there was little chance the mercs would have left the precious sample unguarded. Caitlyn’s voice came over the comms. “I can see you, Yorgi, and I can see into the second room.” She paused. “Seems empty. The problem is the third room is jam-packed. Almost as if the lot of them have been called to a meeting before moving out.”
“Makes sense,” Alicia said. “It’s what we would do. Can that scope you’re using pick out a number?”
“Hard to say. Five, maybe six. I can’t see the whole room.”
Yorgi climbed carefully across to the second window. Alicia took a moment to make a plan. “Line ‘em up in your sights,” she said. “Sorry Michael, your wish for peace and quiet just ain’t gonna work out. You fire on my word.”
She waited for their thief to gain access to the second room. “Yorgi, I counted eighty four seconds from room to room. You capable of making the third in that time too?”
“I say give me ninety.”
“All right. As soon as I see your head I’m starting counting.”
“Make sure I can hear you.”
A minute later, Yorgi appeared. Alicia began the count, scooping up her weapons and readying herself for war. She wondered briefly why teams she got involved with could never complete a mission discreetly, but then concluded that it was down to the desperate, often time-sensitive operations they became involved with. Her count reached fifty and she exited the room, wedging the door open in case something went wrong. The corridor was eerily quiet, her footfalls softened by the plush carpet and thick paneled walls.
“Seventy five… seventy six…”
Healey, Russo and Caitlyn appeared out of the elevator bank ahead, both panting slightly. Russo shrugged at her. “Crouch is the sniper,” he said. “I thought we’d be more useful alongside you.”
Alicia hid a smile. When they first met, Russo had acted more like a hot chili in her bolognese, resentment boiling through every comment and movement. Now, after they had shared battle and even saved each other’s lives, there had grown a mutual respect that would only become deeper. She nodded at the three of them.
“Well met. Be ready on eighty five. And Caitlyn, you stay in the corridor. Watch out for escapees.”
“Ready.”
“Eighty… eighty one…”
She stopped outside the room in which all the mercs were gathered and knocked loudly. Three more seconds and she motioned toward the comms.
“Fire twice!”
Instantly, windows shattered. Voices roared and yelled out in shock and anger. Alicia told Yorgi to wait and then shot out the lock.
“Go!”
The trio surged through the door in tight formation, guns up, squeezing shots off as targets rose like fairground dummies. As if through telepathy they split in three directions, staying low as they raced for cover. The mercs were in total disarray. Alicia saw three down and three standing. Through a half-open door to a small bathroom she saw a flash of Beauregard, but her vision focused hard on the largest mercenary in the room.
The one with the backpack.
She fired. He ducked, instinct honed. She swept forward, still firing, and slid across a polished coffee table, her feet striking his knees and toppling him over. Bullets struck his chest. Alicia wasted no time or conscience on the man, knowing what he carried, and ripped the backpack away from him. Other mercs started immediately toward her.
“We should get this out of here.” She held their ultimate prize in her hands.
She leaped over to the window and handed it to the waiting Yorgi. The backpack had always been imperative to this mission and her plan had always been to utilize Yorgi’s skills to escape with it, no matter what happened to the rest of them. The Russian thief immediately made his way down the side of the building, away from the mercs. Alicia protected the window, Crouch the street. Now she turned to find Russo strangling a merc into unconsciousness and Healey heading toward the bathroom. The remaining mercs appeared to be panicking.