Mystic Warrior. Alex Archer
on the ground and managed to pull his sidearm. Sabre shot the man in the face and leaped over the corpse. Behind him, two other police cars pulled into the parking lot, sirens howling. They rolled to a stop on either side of the burning patrol car.
“Black Legion Nine.” Sabre reached the next clearing and peered across the open area separating him from the next building. The helicopters continued circling above, but their attention was split between their mission goal and the arrival of Sabre’s people and the police. “This is Black Legion One.”
“Go, One. Nine copies.” Saadiya Bhattacharjee’s British accent sounded unflappable. She’d been born to a Sikh family in Telangana, India, and had finished her education in crisis communication at Oxford. Sabre had hired her immediately when their paths crossed three years ago, headhunting her from other corporations by promising her a more exciting career than patching political careers and spin-doctoring bad products put out by corporations.
“I need you to interface with the local police,” Sabre said. “Let them know we’re on the job.”
“Copy that.”
“And don’t get shot.”
Saadiya laughed, then said, “Ta.”
Taking his smartphone from his tactical vest, Sabre pulled up the GPS locator he had that connected him to Krauzer’s position inside the building. All of his clients were programmed into his locator systems. He and Meszoly were only 179 meters out and closing fast. He broke into a run with Meszoly following behind and to the right so they’d both have established fields of fire.
* * *
ANNJA HEARD KRAUZER before she saw him. Orta followed in her wake, crouched as she was. When she reached the door, she stood and peered through the small window beside the closed entrance. Inside, the soft glow of a cell phone revealed where Krauzer was.
The director knelt under a computer desk in a dark room and spoke in a hoarse whisper that carried. “Sabre! Where are you? I’m in trouble!”
Annja tried the door but it was locked.
“Allow me.” Orta stepped forward. “Most of the classrooms on this floor open with the same key to facilitate matters.”
She stepped back and allowed the professor access to the door. He took a set of keys from his pocket and started sorting through them.
Keeping calm in spite of the tension that filled her, Annja divided her focus between the hallway and the shattered wall of windows. She’d noted the second helicopter circling the building, as well, and kept expecting one or the other to sweep in. She still didn’t know what the explosions outside the building had been about.
After succeeding in unlocking the door, Orta opened it and entered. The yellow rectangle of the hallway lights fell into the dark room. He started to reach for the lights but caught himself before Annja pointed out that wouldn’t be a good idea.
“What are you doing?” Krauzer glared up at them. “Get out of here! This is my hiding spot!”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Orta turned away from him and faced Annja.
“They’re after me.” Holding the crystal between his knees, Krauzer waved his free hand at Orta, keeping him away. “You’re leading them right to me.”
“They’re after all of us.”
“Really? Really? You’re here every day, so these guys just happen to show up tonight to get you and I’m unlucky enough to get caught in the middle of that? Do you even hear yourself?”
“They’re totally happy to kill all of us,” Orta stated. “They want the crystal.”
Krauzer wrapped his free arm around the crystal and turned his attention to the phone. “You need to get here. Now!”
“You know, if they get him, maybe they’ll leave us alone,” Orta said.
“Wait.” Krauzer wasted no time thinking about that. He grabbed hold of the desk and partially scuttled out from hiding. “You can’t just desert me. We need to stick together.”
Shaking his head, Orta looked back at Annja.
She slipped her miniflashlight from her backpack, switched it on and swept the high-intensity beam around the classroom. It was larger than she’d initially thought, actually built like a small auditorium with stadium seating. The only other door out of the room was on the same side of the wall.
Voices echoed outside in the hallway, and she knew they were out of running room.
“Get down.” Annja switched off the miniflashlight as she closed the door softly and locked it behind her. The barrier was too flimsy to put up much resistance, but maybe the men looking for them would hurry on by. On the other side of the door, police sirens screamed and the whop-whop-whop of the helicopter rotors was somewhat muted.
“Up there.” She pointed Orta to the highest seat. “Stay away from the windows and hide in the corner—otherwise you’ll be skylined against the outside lights.”
Clutching the manuscript case to his chest, Orta sprinted up the long steps and hunkered down behind the curved row of tables. He disappeared in the inky pools of shadows, and Annja hoped that he would be safe during the coming confrontation.
Sliding back under the desk, Krauzer drew his legs farther into the darkness, but the phone’s light illuminated his face.
“Turn off the phone.” Annja slid the machine pistol out of the backpack and readied it.
Reluctantly, with a last whispered command to whoever was listening, Krauzer broke the connection and pocketed the phone. He held on to the crystal with both arms, and Annja didn’t know if he was trying to protect the object or hide behind it.
Quietly, breathing evenly, Annja put her back to the front wall, where both doors were, staying away from the gleaming whiteboard behind her so she wouldn’t be easily seen. She waited, willing herself to be calm.
Out in the hallway, the voices quieted. Annja didn’t know if the men looking for them had passed or if they were listening on the other side of the locked doors. A moment later, the door handle on her right twisted with a soft metallic click.
The gunman pushed the door open with a foot, letting the light from the hallway into the room. His dark shadow shifted slightly.
Annja waited, resisting the impulse to shoot the man in the foot, even though he was dressed like the other men they’d encountered. Wounding the man while they were trapped in the room wouldn’t help. A wounded man could call out for reinforcements, and if he was the only man, once she put him down, they might be able to get free.
The other door opened more, letting Annja know the attack was going to come from two fronts by an unknown number of attackers. She kept calm, knowing everything was going to come down to split-second reaction time.
A whispered conversation she couldn’t make out took place in the hall. Then the first man shouldered his way into the room with his weapon tucked in close to his shoulder. The noise outside became louder immediately.
As soon as the gunman breached the entrance, Annja opened fire, aiming for the man’s shoulder and letting the machine pistol rise until the rounds hammered the man in the neck and the side of his head.
Dead, dying or unconscious, the man dropped as the second door exploded open.
Annja whirled, trying to cover the second entrance and knowing the gunman there had seen her muzzle flashes reflected in the dark windows on the other side of the room. He would know where she was standing. She whirled, but the man was already firing. At least one of his bullets struck her machine pistol and tore it from her hands, while the others dug into the wall behind her with jackhammer impacts.
Deserting her position