The Judas Line (34 page)

Closer, fifteen feet and his hand reached the pistol.

Ten feet … the weapon ripped free with the sound of paper tearing.

My feet left the carpet as I dove at a dead run, the pistol rising to meet my eyes.

Click.

I hit the man full on, shoulder in his midsection, the pistol with safety on flying from his hand as I drove him backward to land in heap, both of us kicking and scratching, punching and biting.

We rolled, grappling, the Dagger Man’s teeth buried in my shoulder, and I screamed in hot pain as his bicuspids tore into soft tissue. My knee came up, but he expected the play and twisted so I hit his thigh. A calloused knuckle rammed my jaw, followed by an elbow that had me seeing stars. That elbow made a comeback and I turtled, letting it hit the top of my skull. I sagged as my neck compressed and the Sicarius screamed.

I rolled away from the noise as the Sicarius kept at it, holding on to what I assumed was a broken elbow. People always said I was hard-headed and the proof lay moaning on the hallway carpet.

I kept my back to the wall, using it to support me as I stood shakily, every nerve in my body firing at once. The Dagger Man finally came to grips with his pain and also came to his feet, a grimace of hate on his long youthful face.

Sweat stung my eyes as I watched him reach into a pocket with his good hand and pull out a butterfly knife, which he opened one-handed with the ease of constant practice. My foot lashed out but he dodged the halfhearted attack with ease. The assassin might have been injured, but he still had skills.

So I dove for the pistol, hoping that my battered body would prove quick enough. It didn’t. The Sicarius kicked, catching me in the stomach—folding me in half and wrenching my midsection—then he fell on top of my writhing body with thrust a knee to the kidney that momentarily paralyzed my body in torment.

But I had the gun.

He grabbed my arm and through the haze of suffering that clouded my eyes, I saw the light of understanding reach him. Despite his one-handed grip, I was stronger. As breath struggled to enter my lungs, my thumb stroked the safety and I pulled the trigger. Twice.

Blood. Brains. Bone. All sprayed upwards and settled back down to coat my face as the body of the Dagger Man settled on my chest.

Oh, Lord, forgive me.

Sobbing for the dead man, mumbling prayers for his soul, I clumsily searched his body, my tears wetting the black one-piece. My eyes strayed to the small, round holes on his forehead, knowing that the exit wounds had torn the back of his head off. Eventually I found a key card in a hip pocket. No use trying to hide the body, the hall gave plenty of evidence as to what had happened, the walls being decorated in red and pink. Sluggishly, I trod toward the door to the suite. My hands were on fire with pain; metal slivers and friction burns had tattered the palms into raw meat. My blood slicked the pistol, dripping down the barrel.

Heart thumping madly with guilt and relief, I swiped the key card at the door. I needed to get clean. I needed to tend my wounds, needed to rest, if only for a while. The door opened and I stepped inside.

A man stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, staring out into the night. At the sound of the door shutting behind me, he turned.

Boris smiled.

Oh, hell.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Morgan

“Did I forget to mention that this idea of mine is seriously insane?” I shouted at Cain over the din of the rotors. Fear ate at my guts.

Night, three thousand feet in the air, the Bell 430 helicopter remained stable as the pilot waited for us to jump. Flashbacks to another night jump fifteen years ago kept flickering before my eyes, but this time we would jump into a city rife with thermals and strange wind shears that could flip a parachute topsy-turvy in an instant, not to mention that it was cold as hell, The black sweater, Kevlar vests, and heavy black denim pants offered some protection.

“A young man with your history of rash behavior and rebellion against the most powerful criminal organization in history thinks
this
idea is mad?” Cain shouted back with a grin. “Once again you manage to surprise!”

Right, that’s me, Mr. Surprise.

Six hours earlier Cain, Maggie, Alan and I had stood together in the dark warehouse, a single bare bulb from a small lamp providing a ring of light that perfectly illuminated the round table it rested upon. Alan had handed out Kevlar vests and provided a spread of weaponry large enough to take out the Latin American country of your choice.

Alan handed a laptop to Cain. “Here’s the schematics to the hotel, boss.”

Cain regarded the computer for a brief moment. “Once again you do not fail to impress, my boy.”

“You won’t need that, man,” I commented as I picked up a .45 and checked the sights. “All we need are the top three floors, 53 to 55. Everything else is the ordinary rich and famous.”

“You’re cute when you’re all authoritative and shit,” Maggie smiled as she struggled out of her chainmail and shrugged into her vest, her large axe resting on the table. I couldn’t help it; I stared at her charms out of the corner of my eyes. She caught the look and gave me a satisfied smile that heated up all my naughty bits.

Man, I’d been without proper company for far too long.

My eyebrows danced in her direction. “The Sicarii own the place and I made sure to learn everything I could about where Julian would hang his hat.”

Cain replaced his sunglasses with thick, black goggles, briefly revealing his disturbing Husky eyes. “What do you suggest, then?”

“A roof access would be best. There will be guards, but with our magic and a little surprise, we can take them down.”

“Four of us storming the battlements.” Maggie holstered a 9 mm and picked up a Tec-9. “I love it.”

Cain frowned. “Not to impugn your knowledge of all things Sicarii, but are you certain that is wise?”

I shook my head. “There are only two access points to the upper stories—a heavily defended private elevator that they can shut down in an instant and an equally well-defended stairwell. Then let’s consider the innocents staying in the hotel who could be killed or hurt by stray bullets.”

Alan piped up. “So what do we all do? I’m no frontal assault guy, no soldier. I’m just a realtor.”

Not just a realtor. Not with three Words. “We parachute down to the roof and take the access stairs to the suite levels.”

“How many Sicarii guards will there be,” asked Maggie, curling her braid around the top of her head and covering it with a black wool cap.

“At least two dozen.”

The two apprentices stopped what they were doing and tried to pick their jaws off the floor. “Two dozen highly trained assassins?” Maggie squeaked. It was off-putting to see a woman so big squeak like a mouse.

“At least two dozen.”

Cain grunted. “Then the need for a two pronged attack is paramount. One to provide a much needed diversion, the other to strike at the heart of the enemy.”

“How are we going to manage that, boss?”

“It comes to me that we must seek aid elsewhere,” Cain declared. “Perhaps a conversation with our employer would prove beneficial.”

“Second Man, Sicarius, what do you want?”
Earth grated. The elemental towered over us, a vaguely human-shaped mass.

The alleyway between warehouses was dark enough to hide in, but there was enough light to see the elemental that had joined us.

Both Cain and I had used the Language of Earth to summon this creature, a being formed of concrete and brick that had a strange, plastic quality to it, allowing it to move without cracking or powdering. Normally it takes a while for Earth to answer a summons, but when we called, the elemental had come quickly.

“Shortly we will attack the Sicarii stronghold and retrieve First Water,” I answered, tasting the smell of the Language on my tongue. “We need to you to shake the ground beneath the building they hide in.”

A blobby head swung my way. “Shake? You wish to tear down one of your human-made earth structures?”

“No. We want you to move the earth around the building just enough to create a distraction. The building must still stand when you are done.”

“When?”

It was Alan who answered.
“When I give the signal.”
His vocabulary was good, but I wondered if Earth cared that a human butchered its Language with such a horrible accent.

“This will help secure the First Water?”

I nodded.
“Yes
.
”

“Call. Earth will come. Then tell me which dwelling to … shake.”

Back inside the warehouse, Cain made some calls while the rest of us readied our gear.

Maggie gave me an inquiring look. “Why would the Sicarii worry about evacuating the hotel, handsome?”

I smiled, hefting a pair of half-inch ball bearings. “While the Sicarii are powerful, the hotel is filled with those they do business with, including former dictators, captains of industry, drug lords, etc. They can’t afford to let any harm come to their guests. No, after the first few tremors, the hotel will be evacuated for safety’s sake and the normal staff sent home. They will lock the place up tight as a security precaution.” I put the bearings into a pocket on my left arm.

“Then why attack? We’ll get slaughtered.”

“That’s the beauty of it. They might prep for it, but they really don’t think anyone would be so foolish as to try an assault. Julian has no idea that I’ve recruited Cain for this; he thinks I’m all by my lonesome, and that has made him complacent. They’ll be ripe for a surprise attack.”

I felt the heat of her as she came close. She smelled of female musk and lemons. “I love the way your devious little mind works, handsome.”

My grin was predatory. “The rest of me works pretty well, too.”

Her eyes grew wide and her voice husky. “Promises, promises,” she said.

Alan held up a disk of whitish putty, the size of an American silver dollar. Mounted in the center was a small, flat black box with a small metal ring set on the side. “If y’all could stop the foreplay and tone down the pheromone levels, I’d appreciate knowing what this is.”

I had no clue and Maggie just shook her head.

“That, my dear apprentices and colleague, is what most would affectionately call a ‘door buster.’ ” Cain stepped in to the light of the lamp, a cell phone glowing softly in one hand. “A disk of Plastique with a timed detonator. Simply attach the explosive near the lock plate of whatever point of egress you wish to harm, pull the pin and in five seconds any locking mechanism will yield.”

“When he talks, he gives me a headache,” I whispered to Maggie.

“I know. I’d consider giving him a shag if he could keep his words to one or two syllables.”

“If you children are quite done with your sophomoric rantings, we have other pressing concerns. Alan, has our shipment of re-enforcements arrived?”

“While you were out earlier, boss.”

Cain nodded and pulled a small stack of three by five cards out of the pocket of his red flannel shirt. “Good. I think it is time for my fine friends to receive compensation.” To each of us he handed a card.

Maggie and Alan snatched at theirs eagerly, while I took a more cautious approach.

My eyes found the Word written there and it slid into my mind like a lover into an embrace, warm and gentle. Things shifted in my mind and I felt some part of me, part of my memory, evaporate like ice under the hot sun. I didn’t know what it could have been. The Word, however, stuck fast.

“Create. This is Create,” I breathed. A thirteenth Word! I immediately knew what I could do with this Word, the capability of making artifacts and wards. I knew that when I used it, it would smell like the ocean.

“Peace, you gave me Peace!” Maggie nearly screamed, outraged. She flung the card onto the table.

Peace? I immediately felt a near-overwhelming desire to snatch her card and add the word to my Vocabulary.

Cain simply smiled and said, “If you did not have the facility for it, my dear, the Word would not have taken root in your mind. While the Word might not have any offensive capabilities, never underestimate the power of a Word properly used.”

I gave Maggie speculative look.

She threw it right back at me. “What?”

My grin was sheepish. “Never met a female magus before, man; it’s such a new experience. Sorry.”

Smiling, she picked up the axe and whirled it around her body. Slowly at first, then faster and faster, the axe humming, a steel blur with a sharp edge. Alan and I backed up before we could suffer an amateur tracheotomy. After a few seconds she slowed then stopped, setting the axe gently on the table. “When it comes to me, buster, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet.” Her grin was toothy and savage.

“Damn,” I breathed, curiously aroused. “That’s for sure, Blondie.”

“Can’t read this one,” Alan said morosely, holding up his Word card. “Sorry, boss.”