Brainrush 05 - Everlast 02: Ephemeral (7 page)

Marshall recoiled. He’d wanted to confront Jiaolong, to
squeeze the life out of the man with his bare hands, knowing he himself would
be killed in the process. No, not knowing.
Praying for it.

Lacey was gone, and every breath he took seemed to elevate his
anguish.

But these kids, they were innocent pawns. He couldn’t stand
by and watch them be slaughtered in the wake of Jiaolong’s deceit. His eyes
narrowed on the exit.  Both guards were armed, and because of the gunshots more
were likely on the way. But he had to try, he had to do something. With an
exhale, he set aside his agony and held his cuffed palms out to Dolphin. “You
said you’ve got the code. Can you remove them without deactivating them?”

“Sure,” Dolphin said. He pulled out his phone, opened an
app, and tapped the screen.

“Wait!” Marshall said. “Stand back. Just in case.” Dolphin
edged backward. The others did the same. Then Marshall stretched his hands as
far away from them—and his body—as possible. He turned his head away and closed
his eyes.

Dolphin tapped the screen.

The click of the cuffs sent Marshall’s heart into his
throat. When he realized he was still in one piece, he opened his eyes and sighed
with relief. He removed the bracelets and stuffed them in his pockets. The kids
nodded. BlackFlag patted Dolphin on the back.

 “Nice trick,” Marshall said, struggling to keep his
emotions in check for their sake. “How’d you figure it out?”

Dolphin exchanged a quizzical look with the others, then
turned back to Marshall. “Dude, we’re superhackers, remember? So, what’s the
plan?”  

Their eyes went wide when he told
them, but none of them backed down.

J
AKE
FLATTENED HIMSELF
against the wall, flipping off the safety of the MP5.
Skylar, Lacey, and Pete were stacked up behind him in the southwest stairwell.
A fading rumble of footsteps echoed from below. “Sounds like somebody’s
leaving.”

“In a hurry,” Pete added.

Jake cracked the door to the twenty-fifth floor and glanced both
ways.

 “Clear.” He led with the shouldered weapon as he moved into
the corridor. The vinyl flooring shimmered beneath the long hallway’s overhead
lighting, and there was a clean smell to the space. Doors lined either side. Jake
overlaid the scene onto the memory of what he and Pete had studied from across
the street, locking onto the fourth door on the right. “Let’s go,” he
whispered, his feet ghosting along the smooth surface, senses alert.

I’m coming for you, Francesca.

He raised his fist and crouched at the door. Lacey and Sky
stopped behind him. Pete moved forward, staying low. Jake turned the door
handle and cracked the door open. The space was dark and his brow furrowed in
confusion. He’d expected a well-lit room with a wall of monitors. Pete moved
past him and flicked on the lights. It was an editing bay of some sort.

What the hell?

“State-of-the-art equipment,” Pete said.

“As good as I’ve ever seen at a film studio,” Lacey added.

“This way,” Skylar whispered behind them. She motioned to
the next doorway, which was protected by an electronic keypad. “That’s gotta be
the security room.”

Jake cursed himself, angry at the stupid mistake, and moved
quickly to the next door. The others stacked up around him. He signaled toward
the keypad. Pete nodded, then let his assault rifle dangle from its sling while
he reached over his shoulder and pulled out his sawed-off shotgun. He aimed it
at the door latch, looked to Jake. His voice was low. “All hell’s gonna break
loose.”

“What choice do we have?”

Skylar panned her weapon toward their rear. “I’m ready.”

Jake gave Pete the nod.

“Wait,” Lacey said, moving forward. She grabbed the door
lever, pulled it down slowly, and nudged open the door.

Jake shook his head and shouldered past her. His eyes raked
the room, and the muzzle of his MP5 settled on the lone security guard seated
in front of a bank of monitors. The unarmed man spun around; his hands flew into
the air. “Don’t shoot,” he said, his expression wary.

A quiver of uncertainty rushed up Jake’s spine. Something
about this setup didn’t sit right—the empty halls, the unlocked door, the lone
guard.

“Somethin’ is fishy,” Pete said, moving into the room. He grabbed
the slender man by the collar, yanked him out of his chair, and slammed him
against the wall. “Watch our backs, lass,” he said to Sky, who stood in the
open door frame. She swiveled to a crouch and leaned out the door, then panned
her weapon down either side of the corridor.

Pete turned back to his captive. “Did ya know we were
comin’, young fella? Is that it?”  

The man pressed his lips together.

“Have it your way,” Pete said. He cracked the butt of the
shotgun across the man’s forehead and the guard folded to the floor. Lacey
winced. Jake moved to the control board and took in the various camera views
from throughout the facility: the rooftop, the battle outside, the bustle of
people in the lobby, tough-looking types storming up the stairwells...

“We amn’t going to have much time,” Pete said.

Skylar said, “Still clear out here, but if they converge
from both sides, we’re dead meat.”

Jake brought up a submenu with a multi-column list of camera
locations.

Lacey hissed, “No. There’s nearly two hundred of them.
There’s not enough time—”

She stopped talking as the main monitor flashed through views
so fast they seemed to blur into one another. Jake’s finger tapped the keyboard
faster than a woodpecker’s beak, his eyes glued to the screen. “I’ll find them,”
he said flatly. “Get your masks on.”

He heard them unsnapping their masks from their belts as his
hand froze over the keyboard. The monitor showed a mass of teens—each in a
uniform of white over black—backing away from a lifeless form in front of an
exit door. Three guards stood over the body, threatening the crowd with their
weapons. Another group of teens huddled nearby, circled around an adult.

Lacey lurched forward. “It’s Marshall!” She jabbed her
finger against the screen.

Jake zoomed in on Marshall and his group. He made an entry
and several other views of the room appeared on perimeter monitors. The space
was huge. Other teens were pounding on two other sealed exits. “Looks like they’re
locked in,” he said as his eyes danced from one view to another, searching for
signs of his family.

Where are you?

Pete leaned in. His gas mask was pulled over his head like a
baseball cap, the elastic holding it in position for Pete to lower over his
face. Pete pointed at the screen, where Marshall had extended his arms from his
body and turned his head to one side. The teens around him backed away. “What’re
they about?”

Jake zoomed closer just as Marshall seemed to relax,
lowering his arms and removing odd-looking bracelets from his wrists. He pocketed
them, said something to the group, and they all pushed into the crowd toward
the guards.

“I don’t like this,” Lacey said.

Jake watched as Marshall’s teens positioned themselves along
the front line of the pack. One boy held a cell phone. When they were in place,
Marshall shouldered into the no-man’s-land in front of the guards. One of the
guards raised his weapon.

Lacey squeaked, grabbing Jake’s forearm.

But another guard, the largest of the three, stayed his
partner’s hand. He waved Marshall over, then grabbed Marshall’s buddy by the
arm and shoved him against the door. Marshall cowered, hands at his sides, as
his friends suddenly erupted into a frenzy of jeers and taunts, spurring the
crowd.

The guards turned toward them, weapons panning. The boy with
the cell phone stood his ground, finger hovering over the screen.

“Here it comes,” Pete mumbled.

 In a blur, Marshall fished the bracelets from his pockets,
shoved them into two of the guards’ pockets, and dove for the floor.

The boy tapped the screen.

Twin explosions erupted from the guards’ hips, driving them
sideways with the force of charging NFL linebackers. Their guns went flying and
the men crashed to the floor, writhing and twisting in agony.

By the time the third guard stopped gaping, three of
Marshall’s team had bowled him over. The crowd followed and ripped the weapon
from his grasp. The boy with the phone gave commands and they dragged the guard
to the door, held his wrist to a scanner, and shoved open the double doors. The
crowd herded out. Others at the back of the room sprinted to follow.

Marshall rose to his feet and high-fived the kid with the
phone.

Pete grinned, “Well, I’ll be—”

“That’s my man!” Lacey said.

“I’m hearing boots from the stairwell,” Skylar said.
“Getting louder.” Jake turned to see her activate a remote control on her web
belt. “Going smoky,” she said, then pulled down her mask.

Jake unsnapped his mask and swept it on. Pete helped Lacey
with hers before pulling down his own.

Jake’s voice was muffled. “That room is two floors down. Get
started, all three of you. I’ll catch up as soon as I locate Francesca.” He
turned back and was about to tap the keyboard when his gaze locked on the
screen. The scene unfolded in slow motion.

Min streaking from the far side of the room toward
Marshall, who, along with his friends, were ushering the last of the crowd out
the doorway, oblivious to the threat behind them. Min leaping through the air,
drop-kicking Marshall into the wall, Marshall folding to the ground. The boy
charging, Min dodging, whipping her bobbles, a slash across the side of the
teen’s face, the boy spinning to the floor. Marshall struggling to rise. A girl
attacking Min from behind, shoving the woman to her knees. Min snapping around
in a crouch, a blade shimmering in her hand, cocking her wrist. Marshall kicking
her legs out from under her. A smartly dressed Asian man rushing forward with an
armed guard. Marshall barreling at him, his face enraged, the guard’s gun
rising...

 A shot...

Marshall’s head snapping backward, blood splattering the
walls...

“NOOO!” Lacey screamed.

The Asian man turning toward the guard, holding a pistol
to the other man’s forehead, the pistol jerking, the back of the guard’s head
exploding.

Smoke billowing into the room through the vents, the
screen going white...

L
ACEY
STAGGERED AGAINST
the console, clutching her throat, her gaze fixed on the
image on the screen—her husband sprawled on his back, blood glistening from his
scalp. Tears blurred her vision as smoke filled the screen.

An elevator bell rang in the distance, breaking her trance.

From the doorway Skylar said, “That’s it. We gotta move.”

Her words echoed in Lacey’s earpiece. Pete grabbed her arm
and pulled her out of the room. She yanked her arm free and ran down the
corridor toward the far stairwell. “They’re going to pay.” Thick smoke spewed
from a vent up ahead, obscuring the hall in a blanket of white.

Jake rushed past her, flicking a switch on the side of his
mask. “This way.”

She reached up and toggled the infrared switch on her own mask.
The smoke vanished from view, and Jake’s form glowed as it raced ahead in a
surreal hallway of grayscale tones. She followed on his heels, white-knuckling
her MP5. She’d fired hundreds of blanks from similar weapons on various sets, but
this one was loaded for real. And she was anxious to use it.

Jake turned a corner, pushed into a stairwell, paused to make
sure it was clear, then waved them forward. “Twenty-third floor,” he said
before darting down the steps. She followed, and the sounds of Pete’s and
Skylar’s boots behind her gave her comfort. A fire alarm echoed from below, and
a cacophony of voices filtered up from the lower floors. She peeked over the
rail to see dozens of heads bobbing as the tenants evacuated the building. She
rounded the steps two floors down. Jake held a fist up at the door, and she and
the others stopped behind him.

“This door dumps into the space where we saw Marshall,” Jake
said. “Hug the wall to your right, skirt the dining area, and you’ll find him.”
He cracked the door, checked both ways, and waved them through.

Lacey grabbed his arm. “Wait, what about you?”

“We’re splitting up. I didn’t get to check the camera views
for the floor below us. That’s where the others must be. I’m gonna find ’em.”

“But Jake—”

“I’m not leaving until I find them.”

Even through the lenses of both their masks, she could see
the determination in his eyes. She’d seen that look before. She bit her tongue,
squeezed his arm, and nodded.

Pete moved forward, grabbed Jake’s collar, pulled him mask to
mask. “Don’t dally, ya bloody chancer. We’ll be waitin’ fer ya on the street.” Jake
nodded, and Pete led the way out the door. Skylar gave Jake a fist bump on her way
past. Lacey followed, then glanced over her shoulder to see the door swing
closed. Jake was gone.

They dashed forward and spotted a trio of guards, blinded by
the smoke, moving clumsily toward the far exit with outstretched hands. After dodging
past them, they weaved through the dining area. Pete stopped and crouched by a
counter. Skylar took up a defensive position beside him, weapon trained on the
approaching guards. Lacey stayed low. She followed Pete’s gaze to see another
pair of guards shuffling toward Marshall’s body, cradling weapons, sweeping their
legs in front of them like blind men with their canes. She recognized them as the
two guards Marshall had downed with his explosive bracelets. The men grimaced
with each painful step, but a rage seemed to fuel them forward. They were two
steps away from Marshall’s body.

Lacey sprang to her feet and dashed forward.

“What—?” Pete’s voice stuttered in her earpiece. Then she
heard his breath heave as he started after her.

The larger guard’s boot swept into Marshall’s outstretched
arm. The man looked down.

“Found him,” the guard shouted, swiveling the muzzle of his
rifle to Marshall’s face.

The other guard limped over, raised his weapon. “It’s
payback time, TurboBastard.”

Marshall’s head turned, and Lacey’s heart jumped to her
throat. She screamed, skidded to her knees, raised the MP5, and let loose on
full auto.

The guards twisted and jerked as rounds stitched their
torsos, blowing them backward to the floor. The magazine clicked empty and she
knelt there, mouth open. Pete rushed past her, kneeled down beside Marshall,
checked his pulse. “He’s alive!”

There were spits behind her, and she turned to see Skylar
firing toward the three guards in the distance. One was thrown backward. The
other two dove for cover.

Skylar spun around and pulled Lacey to her feet. “Hurry.
Those guys behind us won’t hold off for long, smoke or not.” She took a knee
and swept her weapon behind them.

Lacey rushed to Marshall’s side and cradled his head. His
blood was sticky on her fingers.

“Marsh, I-I thought you were—”

He looked at her with unsteady eyes, the corner of one lip
curled up. “You’re such a stud.” Then his eyes rolled and his head slumped to
one side.

“Marsh!”

Pete pressed a finger against his neck. “No worries, he’s
still with us.” He used his knife to cut off the black sleeve of his jumpsuit,
revealing an orange uniform beneath. He tied the sleeve around Marshall’s head.
“That’ll hold him. Let’s move.”

Pete grunted as he heaved Marshall over his shoulder, then
he nodded toward the exit. Skylar fired a couple rounds behind them, spun
around, and led the way. Lacey brought up the rear, the hairs on her arms standing
on end. They wound down the stairwell and encountered a crowd when they reached
the twenty-first floor—the first of the
real
tenant floors. Families packed
the stairs, coughing and pushing.

Pete raised a fist and nodded to the others. He propped
Marshall in a seated position against a corner. By the time he stood back up to
unzip his jumpsuit, Lacey was kicking hers off her feet. Underneath, she wore
the bright orange uniform of the Hong Kong Fire Services Department. She donned
a baseball cap, still wearing her gas mask. Skylar was ready as well. They
wrapped their MP5s in their discarded jumpsuits and kicked them aside. By then,
Pete was ready. He pulled Marshall back onto his shoulder and shouted at the
crowd, which pressed against the walls—all except for the five heavily armed
guards shoving their way up the stairs.

Pete and Skylar moved to one side, allowing the men to pass.
Lacey did the same, grateful for the disguise. The first four rushed past but
the fifth hesitated in front of her. He cocked his head, stepped closer,
squinting through the smoke. He pointed at her gas mask and snarled something
in Chinese.

Lacey held her breath, unsure how to reply. She shook her
head.

It was the wrong response. He raised his weapon and was
starting to say something when Pete grabbed the back of his head and shoved it
against the cement wall. There was a sickening crunch and the man slumped to
the floor.

An older woman witnessed the act. She spit on the fallen man
and nodded to Pete. The other bystanders pressed further into the walls,
clearing a path.

“That’s our cue, lass,” Pete said to Lacey. “Let’s move.”

She followed him. “Jake,” she said over the comm. “Four
guards heading up the southwest stairwell.”

A scatter of static came back. “Br...up...of range.” She bit
her lip but kept descending, remembering Pete’s warning that their radio
reception would be spotty in the stairwells.

***

In the back of his limousine, Jiaolong
leaned to one side to get a better view through the gap between Zhin and Min,
both of whom had spun around to take in the sight. His pulse quickened as he
watched the greens milling about amidst the teaming masses. Lin tensed beside
him. Three chase vehicles bounced out of the underground garage and pulled up
behind them, blocking the view.

“Pull over,” he ordered the driver. Pak was seated in the
front passenger seat. The limo crept to the curb a block from the melee. The
chase vehicles, transporting the yellows, followed suit.

Lin placed a hand on his knee. “The greens are not a
threat.”

“It’s not the greens I’m worried about,” he said, opening
the door. “They’ll be dead inside the hour in any case.”

He glanced at Min. She tapped a speed dial on her phone.
“I’ll check again.”

He stepped outside and surveyed the scene: police setting up
barricades, others herding the crowd from the building’s entrance, Emergency
Medical Services personnel helping the injured, firefighters streaming inside.

We’re running out of time.

Zhin leaned out. “If they reach the computer files... ”

He bent down and gave Min a questioning glance. She lowered
the phone, shook her head. “I’ve lost contact with the teams. They should have
found TurboHacker’s body by now, regardless of the smoke. But the man
must
be dead. He took a round to the head.”

 “It doesn’t matter,” Zhin said. “If he is dead, so be it.
If he’s alive, his secret will die with him in the next few moments. Either
way, the threat to Passcode will be eliminated.” She patted the shoulder bag
that held the backup drive, reminding him they had everything they needed. Then
she motioned toward the phone Jiaolong held in his hand.

He frowned. His teams had failed to acquire Bronson, and his
carefully laid plans to savor a long-lasting revenge were about to go up in
flames. After a long, slow breath, he found the strength to proceed by latching
on to one of his mother’s lessons:

Sacrificing key pieces paves the most fulfilling path to
victory.

He woke the screen on his phone and opened an app. He stared
up at the building with his finger over the button that would detonate the
incendiary devices hidden in the walls surrounding the top four floors. Every
scrap of evidence would be destroyed. The space had served its purpose,
providing him with a location from which he could distance himself when all was
in place. The luxuries had been nice and he’d enjoyed interacting with the
enthusiastic greens. He’d miss some of them, and a part of him regretted that
they, too, had to be sacrificed for the greater goal. But that had been part of
the plan all along. In any case, he was anxious to return to his headquarters,
surrounded by the hills and jungles he’d so enjoyed visiting in his youth, rather
than the filth and congestion of this city. Yes, Bronson’s antics had made it
necessary to speed up the process, but in the end the results would be the
same. The game would flourish, Passcode would be his, and all those responsible
for his parents’ deaths would pay the ultimate price.

“Sir,” Pak said, his cell phone pressed to one ear.
“Bronson’s been spotted on the twenty-first floor. The teams are converging.”

Jiaolong hesitated and Zhin burned a glare at him. It was
another first on this day of unusual occurrences, and her blatant impudence
angered him. He glowered back at her and edited the entry on his screen. He’d
give his men one last chance to bring him his prize, whether Zhin approved or
not. He crawled back into the vehicle, his face red.

“Let’s go,” he ordered. The driver pulled away from the
curb.

Zhin shook her head, her gaze narrowed on his phone. One
corner of his mouth ticked up in a smile.

The screen read:

01:59...

01:58...

***

By the time Lacey and the others
reached the street, it was filled with emergency vehicles. A mass of tenants
and onlookers was herded beyond barricades. Several of the elderly were being
escorted by emergency medical technicians. There was no sign of the gangs that
had participated in the mock gun battle.

The trio dumped their masks in a trash can and kept walking.

“Over here!” Feng shouted, guiding a gurney toward them. One
of his crew assisted him. They both wore the same uniforms as Lacey and the
others.  The two men helped Pete lower Marshall onto the gurney and then
wheeled him toward their waiting ambulance. Lacey held his hand as they walked.

Two teens raced over, and she recognized the boy and girl
who’d fought to protect Marshall from the maniac Asian woman. “Is he okay?” the
boy asked, his face filled with concern.

“We hope so,” Lacey said.

“Wait,” the teen girl said. “I recognize you. You’re—”

“My wife,” Marshall said, his eyes fluttering open.

“Marsh!” she said, leaning down to hug him.

“What about Jake and the others?” Feng asked.

“W-what others?” Marshall asked, his voice weak.

Pete said, “Francesca and the children.”

“But TurboHacker was the only captive,” the boy said. “There
are no others.”

“And thank goodness for that,” the girl added. “Because the
incendiary charges are going to go off any second.”

Lacey gasped. “Incend—?”

“Where’s Jake?” Marshall asked, pushing himself up.

Pete and Skylar gaped up at the building.

Lacey activated her comm unit. “Jake!”