Codename: Night Witch (39 page)

Sigrid winced, waiting, bracing.

And watched as the Starling promptly exploded.

Yet neither she nor Suko had fired a shot.

Turning from the sudden blast, shielding her face, Sigrid looked up in time to see the twisted, flaming wreckage—all that remained of the Starling—plow into the road not a meter from Marta's speeding train.

It was only once Suko hauled her back up, depositing her on the deck of the container, that Sigrid realized what happened. It was Jaffer. Once again, Jaffer had come to their aid. She wasn't sure what was more amazing: that Jaffer had freed his rig from the mud or the sight of Victoria. Armed with the shoulder-mounted missile launcher, she stood calmly on the roof of his cab as they charged into the mix.

Fresh from her kill of the Starling, she had another rocket loaded, and she fired. Sigrid followed the swirling contrail as it found its mark, blasting one of the jackers' trucks to smoking ruins. A third missile followed, creating even more chaos.

Wisely, if perhaps too late, the surviving highwaymen peeled off, retreating as quickly as they had come. Sigrid had little doubt they would lick their wounds only to return to fight another day. For now, it was over, and there was little to do but clean up the stragglers.

The battle had been brief and bloody. Sigrid's comm was afire with chatter. She heard Marta's and Angel's voices, mixed with Jaffer's. They were shouting, hurling questions and curses, laughing and cheering all at the same time. But of course they were—they were alive.

Sigrid jogged the rest of the way to the front of the train. She cleared the gaps between cars with short, easy hops. When she swung in through the window into Marta's cab, the woman screamed her surprise and nearly swerved from the road.

"Sorry," Sigrid said. "I suppose I should have knocked."

"Rather!" Marta said, clutching a hand to her chest.

Once Sigrid was certain they were free and clear, she had them slow and halt. The fires burning in the containers needed to be dealt with, and so did the battle damage. Eight of Marta's wheels lay in ruins and four of Tomás's fuel cells had been ruptured by small-arms fire. His rig wasn't going anywhere. Not without some major work.

It was dark and getting darker. Battling with the jackers, the weather and the terrible roads had delayed things, and Sigrid was growing concerned they wouldn't make it. With no way to repair the damaged trailers, it was decided to unhook them and leave them behind. Tomás's rig had to be ditched as well, and Jaffer took his train in tow.

But only 250 kilometers of their journey remained. For Sigrid, her journey was almost done.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
A Murder of Crows

The highway rose through a series of switchbacks, rising high into the mountains of Chile. Somewhere, hidden amongst those snowy peaks of the Andes, was the Crow's Nest, the high-walled enclave and fortress-home of Lars Koenig, the marquis di Valparaíso.

They were at four thousand meters and climbing higher. The road turned sharply around a bend, forcing the two cargo trains with their loads of thorium to slow to a crawl. For a moment, Sigrid thought the road had come to an end, but then she saw the black opening carved within the steep cliffs: a narrow tunnel had been blasted through the mountains.

"Wait," Sigrid said. "Stop!"

Jaffer stomped on the brakes. The rig skidded a good forty meters along the slushy road before coming to a halt. "What is it? Trouble?"

Trouble indeed. The mudslide, the ambush, it was still fresh in all of their heads. Once they entered that tunnel, the cargo trains would never be able to turn around. They would also be completely isolated. If there was trouble ahead, there would be no running and no retreat.

You didn't come this far just to turn around. What are you waiting for? He's up there. He's waiting for you.

Sigrid felt Suko's hand tighten around hers. "What is it? What's wrong?"

What was wrong? Everything.

The pain in her head was near crippling now. She had to end it, and if she didn't, she knew it would kill her. But that pain was also a warning; though it wasn't a warning to turn back—it was warning her what would happen if she did. It called to her even now. It wanted her to come. It demanded it.

Her comm-link crackled and Sigrid heard the colonel's voice in her ear.
"Change of plans? Are we going back?"

Sigrid shook her head—more to shake herself out of her funk than anything else. "No, Colonel. No change. We're going. Please proceed ahead. Lead us up."

"You sure about this?" Suko said.

Sigrid nodded. "I'm sure."

Ahead of them, the colonel and his three longspurs leapt ahead, disappearing into the tunnel.

"Follow them, Jaffer," Sigrid said. "Take us in. We're going to Portillo."

~ - ~

The trek through the tunnel was slow going. The tunnel twisted and turned, always rising. There was barely any clearance for the two transport trains. Managing the steep switchbacks was a nail-biting affair, and the trains of intermodal containers threatened to lodge themselves against the jagged walls and ceilings more than once. The tunnel featured no lights either; the flood lamps from Jaffer's and Marta's rigs cast long shadows against the narrow stone walls.

They arrived on the other side into a flurry of snow and ice. And soldiers. Six entire platoons of armed guards stood waiting for them. Sixteen tanks lined the road to either side. Behind the soldiers, rising high and all around, were the walls of the Crow's Nest, more than twenty-five meters of heavy reinforced permacrete. Behind those walls, glowing in golden light against the snow, was the sprawling city-enclave of Portillo. An immense gate of titanium stood barred and locked.

"I'm starting to like this plan," Jaffer said as he drove slowly between the ranks of armored tanks. The muzzles of their 88 mm guns swiveled on their turrets, tracking them closely. "It's so simple. Straightforward. Look, now they can blow us to bits!"

"Easy, Jaffer," Sigrid said with more confidence than she felt. "We'll be fine. Remember, we are but simple traders come to sell our wares. Don't worry. They need this load of thorium. They're desperate for it. It will work. Trust me."

"This is just like the story of the Trojan horse," Nuria said. She was staring out the window at the high walls and glowing golden lights of the enclave beyond. Caught up in the excitement, she took Sigrid's hand. "And you, Lady Sigrid, you're the hero Agamemnon!"

"Agamemnon?" Suko said, arms folded. "Well, let's just hope this works out better for
her
than it did for
him
."

"Wait," Jaffer said. "I thought the Greeks won that war."

"Oh, they did," Suko said, shooting a glare between Sigrid and Nuria. "Except Agamemnon made the mistake of taking a
war mistress
. Isn't that right, Sigrid? He was murdered by his
wife
upon his return."

"I thought Aegisthus killed Agamemnon," Sigrid said, doing her best to keep her voice even, and failing quite miserably.

"Make no mistake." Suko leaned over and made a point of pulling their hands apart. "It was his wife who murdered him. Trust me. I know."

A soldier plodded through the snow toward them. He was waving a yellow lamp and signaling them to a halt. Four more guards stood ready, hands forever on their weapons.

The lead soldier shuffled over to the driver's side. He had a hand-scanner in his gloved hand. He held it up in front of him, waving it in the direction of the cargo carriers. The scanner would reveal the cargo to be exactly what it was: twenty-two containers of refined thorium commissioned by the marquis di Valparaíso for delivery to Portillo.

Jaffer rolled down his window. The air outside was crisp and cold; several flakes of snow drifted in, floating between them.

"You're late," the soldier said. "And twelve containers short, by the looks of it."

"Jacker trouble," Jaffer said; it was the truth. No worries there. "You're lucky we got this much through."

"I'm not lucky at all. I'm stuck out here, freezing my noodle while all the mucky-mucks are inside, warm and toasty and getting fat and drunk and laid."

"Harsh."

"You know it."

"Here," Sigrid said. She leaned past Jaffer to toss down a thermos. The soldier caught it in his free hand. "Something to keep you warm."

"What's this?" the soldier said glumly. "Soup?"

"Sure," Sigrid said. "Except that soup is 98 proof and pretty much all whiskey. In fact, it is whiskey. All of it."

The soldier flashed a toothy grin and nodded his approval. "Nice."

"What's even better," Sigrid said, resting her chin on her hands as she leaned over the window frame, "is that you don't have to share."

"I like your style." He twisted the top and took a large gulp. "Oh, that's good."

"Now," Sigrid said, blinking her long lashes at him, "what say you let us in before my large friend here freezes his cockles? As you said, we're late as it is."

"Sure. Right after we bring you in, have security do a thorough check on your IDs and inspect the cargo. Should only take a few hours. We're short staffed, what with the big hoopla going on inside."

Inwardly, Sigrid cursed. She couldn't afford more delays—or the added attention. She was busy combing through a selection of combat scenarios, should they have to fight their way in, when the soldier waved his hand and chuckled.

"Nah. I'm just shitting you. They're already set up and waiting to offload your cargo. The crews want to get out of this blizzard just like we do. Wachowski will lead you in."

The soldier stepped back and signaled through his comm, and the large gates ground slowly open. A small jeep rose on its repulsors, sending up a blast of snow and ice. It flashed its lights twice and moved out in front of them.

Tipping his thermos of whiskey, the soldier waved them forward. "Have a good one."

Jaffer rolled up his window and nudged the transport forward.

"Well," Sigrid said, once they were clear, "welcome to Troy."

~ - ~

"I can't believe that worked," Jaffer said; he was still chuckling. "I was sure we were dead back there. And look, they're giving us an armed escort right to the center of town!"

Indeed, the armored car still ran ahead of them; its flashing red and blue lights carved a path through the swirling flurry of snow.

"War machines are thirsty creatures," Sigrid said. "They need this fuel. They're desperate for it. Besides, I doubt they suspect anyone would be fool enough to attack them from within their own stronghold."

"Only us fools here," Suko said.

Their escort continued to lead Jaffer through the narrow streets of the enclave, streets that wound steadily upward. Marta's train followed close behind. The further in they travelled, the more Sigrid was surprised at the sorry state of the place. The once grand enclave had definitely seen better days. While most of the villas were lit and glowing, with smoke rising from their chimneys, others looked in disrepair or abandoned outright. Several of the larger structures, buildings that once catered to the wealthiest of tourists, were now used as billets for the force of three thousand Cabal troops.

Turning a corner, Sigrid caught her first glimpse of their destination. Larger and more lavish than the other residences, it was more palace than villa. All of its tall windows were aglow with warm lights, a shining beacon set near the base of the tallest of the surrounding peaks. This was the residence of Lars Koenig, the marquis di Valparaíso, and this was where Sigrid had to go.

Unfortunately, their escort was taking them in the opposite direction.

Turning away from the palace, they were led into the loading docks. At least fifty crew, women and men, stood waiting for them. They were freezing. They stood shivering, doing their best to warm themselves, blowing in their hands and stomping their feet.

Sigrid wasn't worried about the workers. They were most likely indentured, and she didn't think they'd care about her or her band of infiltrators either way. But the squad of armed soldiers standing watch was another matter. There were only eight of them, easy enough to handle, but all it would take was for one of them to sound the alarm and they'd have the entire force of three thousand armed Cabal warriors descending on them.

Even now, they were approaching the cargo trains, weapons in one hand, security scanners in the other. It wouldn't take them long to figure out the true nature of their cargo.

"Don't worry, Lady Sigrid," Nuria said. "I can take care of them."

"Nuria—wait," Sigrid said. "You don't have to do this."

"You might be trained for war, milady. But this? This is what
I
was trained for."

~ - ~

Nuria was only halfway down the ladder when one of the soldiers shouted at her.

"Halt! Back in the vehicle. Now!"

Ignoring him, Nuria slid the rest of the way to the ground. The high heels of her tall boots crunched on the ice. With her back still facing the soldiers coming up behind her, she took a moment to try to steel herself and stop her shaking. It had been more than a year since she'd worked the streets—something she never thought she'd ever have to do again—but Lady Sigrid and the others, they were counting on her. She had to do this.

Turning, she flashed her most practiced smile, a smile that was amplified by her dark crimson lipstick and even darker eyeshadow. Despite the cold, she allowed her high-collared bridge coat to fall open. Her hand fell absently to the short hem of her clinging green dress and the exposed flesh of her thighs.

The lead soldier charging toward her came to a skidding stop on the icy tarmac—stopping so abruptly the three men and one woman following at his heels practically barged into him. He took one look at her and swallowed. He was young, only a private. Nuria didn't think he could be much older than her, maybe eighteen or nineteen. His eyes made a slow if purposeful tour as they made their way up the length of her tall plastic boots and over the smooth curve of her hips until they came to rest squarely within the plunging neckline of her dress, where they remained locked.