Perfect Weapon. Amy J. Fetzer

      When Sydney would normally be dropping face first into bed, she was wired, her nerve endings frayed. She couldn’t sleep, couldn’t even be still. She was damn tired of being left in the dark, too. If anyone should be kept abreast of what happened, it was her. She was project manager. Or, she had been—until her world went up in gunfire and smoke.

      She moved around the cabin, hunting for something to take her mind off the attack. You’d think they’d stock a safe house with books or video games, but there wasn’t even a TV that she could find. She tossed out the burnt coffee dregs, started a fresh pot, then rooted in the cabinets.

      “Anyone want a sandwich?” she called out. “Play poker?”

      “No thank you ma’am,” came from around the house.

      She found a bag of Bugles. She wasn’t hungry at all—a surprise since food was a vice for her—but stuffing her mouth was better than tearing into the agents. They had orders and were following them to the letter. Still, it ticked her off.

      Radios crackled, men mumbled. Syd was walking the perimeter again, shoving corn horns into her mouth when a car pulled up. She moved to the window and was pushed back by an agent. She rolled up the bag, wiped her mouth and waited. It didn’t take long.

      A tall, slender man entered from the side entrance with another, slightly shorter man following behind him. More men in black, she thought as the great room emptied except for the pair. Sydney folded her arms and regarded them.

      “Cisco.” She’d met him once before when her handprint and retinal scan were registered.

      He nodded, eyeing her too large clothes. “Dr. Hale. This is Agent Wickum.”

      Sydney shook his hand. It was ice cold.

      “Are you comfortable, Dr. Hale?” Wickum asked.

      “Fine, peachy. What happened?”

      Coming into the living area, Cisco removed his coat, turned it inside out and laid it over the back of a chair. Details like that told her he was meticulous and careful.

      “That’s what we’re trying to ascertain, ma’am,” Wickum said politely.

      Cisco just stared. It was unnerving.

      “What about my project staff?”

      His eyes went flat and Sydney felt the thread of hope snap. She sank onto the sofa and covered her face.

      Over her head, Cisco and Wickum exchanged a glance.

      “You were outside the Cradle when it was attacked, weren’t you, Dr. Hale?”

      “Yes.” She looked up.

      Cisco ignored her glossy eyes and asked, “Who knew about your absence?”

      “Corporal Tanner, he’s the only one with the codes.”

      “And he’s dead.”

      She felt slapped. “Yes. He let me go topside often. I’m a little claustrophobic. I like air that’s fresh. Clears the mind.”

      “What did you see, Dr. Hale?”

      “Aboveground, nothing.” She shook her head, reliving it all again. The silence in the woods and the horror below the surface. “It was still a little dark. I had a penlight. I was up there maybe fifteen—twenty minutes tops. When I came back down, there was heavy smoke in the corridors, Corporal Tanner had been shot and he fell on me. I dragged him into the elevator and we went to the top. But he was dead before we reached the surface.”

      “He was shot where?” Cisco asked.

      “In the chest. It went right through his Kevlar vest. That means armor piercing, right?”

      Cisco nodded. He didn’t bother with making notes or a tape recording. But his number two man did.

      “When I realized the elevator would go down again, I tried to stop it.” A harsh laugh shot from her throat. “Like slapping the eight inch thick steel door would stop that thing? They must have used it to come back up the shaft because they were right behind me.”

      “Who was behind you?”

      “The killers.”

      Cisco didn’t bat a lash.

      Her gaze flicked to Wickum. He looked normal—blond hair, brown eyes. Average cute, like someone’s big brother. But while Agent Wickum had life in his eyes, Cisco’s looked vacant.

      “Continue.”

      “I ran and fell once.” She showed him the scrapes on her palms and arm. “I had Tanner’s gun. Combs took it. And my clothes. When I fell, I must have lost the ID tag. They shot at me a couple times and that’s when the Marine dove at me.”

      Inside Cisco went still as glass. “Marine?”

      “Well that’s what he said. He wore a Gilly suit, you know, those netted things with fake leaves and branches all over it.”

      Cisco nodded.

      “He knocked me to the ground, covered me and fired back at the man shooting at me. He had a hunting rifle. The attackers used silencers because I didn’t hear anything more than soft popping till the bullets hit something. The Marine’s rifle was loud. Then we ran to his truck. I crawled in back with a dead deer and he went looking for his friends.”

      “This man who helped you, did he say how many were out there with him?”

      “He said pals, plural, Agent Cisco. More than one. He left me and that’s the last time I saw him. I ran to the store, made a call and got to Mark eight. Followed the rules.”

      “Except for being outside the facility at dawn.”

      “I’m alive because of that, so back off.” She stared across the room at the agent and if she wasn’t so pissed she might have put her girl brain in gear and admired his looks. But she knew better. Cisco would do anything for the cause, and if that meant pointing a finger at her, he would.

      “Yes ma’am. You should know, those men don’t need a permit or license to hunt there.”

      “Yes, they do. It’s a state park.”

      His thin look was like saying very good Dr. Hale, next question. She wanted to drop-kick him.

      Wickum handed him a large envelope. Cisco slipped out the photographs and offered them to her.

      She recoiled, dropping them on the coffee table. “You son of a bitch!” It was of the dead men in black. In full Technicolor, one’s chest blown open. “You could have warned me.” She shoved them at him with a snide look. “The men I saw were dressed like that, but they wore masks. One had bright blue eyes.”

      He tucked the pictures away. “What did you hear and see after you