Getaway world, p.14
Getaway World, page 14
Other buildings near the torched ones also caught fire and within an hour it seemed as though half the city were ablaze. The "citizenry" of Sanctuary milled about in the streets; no procedure had ever been established whereby they could call for help, and they were totally mystified that the people responsible for their welfare were not doing anything to assist them. Their confusion quickly turned to anger and resentment; they had paid enormous sums of money to come here, and now they were endangered for no apparent reason. The subliminal tension of Sanctuary was rapidly rising to the surface.
Jules and Yvette decided to help the chaos along by running through the mob and yelling, "Why won't they help us? We paid them, why don't they protect us from things like this?"
That tactic seemed to work even better than they had expected. The two supersiblings conferred for a moment and agreed that this was a diversion that should be used to the fullest advantage. They looked for, and eventually found, Pias Belville and explained their plan to him.
"Let's really give the guards something to worry about," Yvette said, having to shout to be heard above the din in the streets. "You're good with words, and the authorities never really got a good look at you as our helper. You stir the people up and lead them in an attack against the headquarters building on the surface level. They won't shoot you on sight like they would us. While we're working on the underground levels, you can keep them busy up top."
"Confusion to our "enemies," Pias nodded with a smile.
Yvette touched him lightly on the arm. "Don't be in the front lines yourself," she added privately. "It's beginning to look as though we might survive this escapade after all, and I'd hate to have you be one of the casualties."
"Don't worry, I'm a confirmed coward," he said. He kissed her lightly on the forehead and raced off to begin his new task.
Jules watched him go. "We need more cowards like that," he said, mostly to himself.
Yvette heard him, though, and smiled inwardly.
The guards began arriving several minutes later. They were quite surprised to discover that they had to contend with not just the fires, but with the irate citizens as well. As they tried to maneuver their equipment into position to fight the flames, they found themselves pelted with rocks, pieces of rubble and any other loose objects the angry inhabitants could find. Pias was doing his job well, feeding the fires of resentment and stirring the crowd to a fever pitch. When he suggested an attack on headquarters itself, it became a battle cry that echoed through the streets of Sanctuary.
Yvette and Jules, meanwhile, were paying very close attention to the guards. The firefighting equipment was big and bulky, and had to be moved slowly into position.
Consequently, the d'Alemberts were able to trace easily where the machines were coming from. There were big structures that looked like office buildings from the front, but were actually just false facades; the entire back end could swing out to allow cars, people or firetrucks to pass through.
The two superagents waited near one of these entrances until all the personnel and equipment had emerged. As the large door slid automatically shut, they dodged inside unseen and found themselves at the top of a broad ramp. The slope at their feet went down for fifteen meters before leveling off into a wide, well lit corridor.
There were three of the long black cars parked at the foot of the ramp, and two men stood guard over them. It was obvious they were not expecting any trouble they were talking casually to one another, not even. looking in the direction of the ramp. Their blasters were tucked securely into their holsters.
Jules and Yvette slipped down the ramp quietly, hugging tightly against the wall to attract minimum attention. By the time one of the guards happened to look up and see their movement, it was far too late for him or his partner to do anything about it.
Two flying DesPlainian forms came at them before they could even reach for their guns.
Yvette's victim got a simple blow to the chin knocking him unconscious; Jules's took a little more persuading. A knee to the breadbasket and an open-handed chop to the throat, however, put him out of commission.
The agents scrambled into the nearest car, with Jules in the driver's seat. The car surged ahead down the high-ceilinged corridor toward the headquarters building-and the agents' last chance to rescue Helena.
Chapter 12
Sortie On Sanctuary
They encountered no opposition as they rode along but then, they had expected none. All free hands would doubtless be busy battling both the blaze and the rioters overhead. The core guard group would be closely clustered around command central.
Jules drove until he could see a major terminal coming up about a hundred meters further on. Stopping the car, he said, "I think we'd better walk from here. We'll have less protection but more mobility."
Yvette concurred and got out of the car. Together the two agents loped down the corridor at a deceptively fast pace until they came to the edge of an intersection. There, under a large vaulted dome, was a wide wooden doorway with three guards standing in front of it and a guard on either side encased in a blaster-proof booth. The booths were mounted with external weapons so that the sentries inside could fire out without being vulnerable themselves.
"We could cut down the three at the door from here," Yvette whispered, "but those two in the booths are going to be a problem. We can't get at them."
"We don't have to get at them," Jules responded. "We just have to get by them. Let's go back to the car, I've got an idea."
They jogged back down the corridor to their vehicle.
As they climbed inside, Jules said, "You take care of the three front guards, then hold on tight."
He backed the car down the tunnel for half a kilometer to allow him room to build up speed. Then, with full acceleration, he gunned the car forward toward the headquarter entrance.
They burst into the cavern at a speed in excess of a hundred and fifty kilometers an hour.
They were on top of the guards before the latter knew what was happening. It took all the speed of Yvette's DesPlainian reflexes to fire at her targets in so short a time-but fire she did. All three of the exterior guards fell to the ground, victims of her deadly blaster.
Jules made no attempt to decelerate. With the car moving as quickly as he could make it, they rammed full tilt into the front doors of the entranceway. The crash jolted both of them down to the base of their teeth, but they were prepared for it and were properly braced: The massive machine hit the heavy doors and went through them as though they were made of cheap plywood. The car stalled and died completely as it shattered the portals, but it had accomplished the task Jules had set for it.
Quickly the two agents climbed out the doors and picked their way forward over the crumpled hood of the car. The beam-proof booths in which the two guards were stationed had not been designed to be defended from the rear, and the guards inside knew it. They had personal blasters of their own, but not enough time to use them as the d'Alemberts split and came after them at inconceivable speeds. Rather than killing the guards with their blasters, Jules and Yvette chose independently of one another-to merely incapacitate them. With the swiftness of their reflexes, they were able to knock the guards unconscious with a single powerful blow apiece.
The breaking in of the doors had started alarm bells ringing all through the underground complex, but it would take several seconds for the rest of the security staff to realize what sector the danger was coming from and to mobilize their defenses. These were seconds that the d'Alemberts could--and did--use to their utmost advantage. The hallway that stretched before them was seventy meters long; they covered the distance in about five seconds, and met with no opposition in that time. There were some more closed doors at the end, but no guards stood outside. To Jules and Yvette, that only meant that the guards were inside the door, waiting for them.
The doors were constructed to open outward, toward them. Relying on the swiftness of their reflexes to give them an edge over anyone" inside, the two agents yanked the doors outward and raced inside. There, they found five more guards waiting for them. The defenders all had their weapons drawn and prepared to fire, but the pair of DesPlainian hurricanes did not offer easy targets.
Yvette knocked out one guard, a woman, with a solid punch to the jaw, then went after a second. Jules, meanwhile, had picked up one man and hurled him bodily at another opponent. The force of the impact as the two collided left them both panting deeply on the floor, unable to take part in further action for some time to come. If Jules had had a stun-gun with him instead of a blaster, he would have shot the two to keep them out of commission for a while; but the thought of slaughtering the two helpless guards-even though he knew they'd do it to him if they had a chance-was repugnant to him. By the time they could recover sufficiently to be any threat to him, the battle would probably be decided anyway, so he left them as they were and concentrated on the rest of the opposition.
Yvette had planted one fist solidly in the stomach of a fourth guard and, as he doubled over, she used her other fist to make sure he gave her no further trouble. She whirled around, looking for the fifth person who had been standing guard inside the door, and found herself staring down the barrel of a powerful blaster.
Before that weapon could be fired, however, Jules swung into action. His right foot kicked out in one rapid motion and knocked the weapon forcefully out of the hand of the woman aiming it at his sister. The momentum of his leap brought him down on his left foot in front of the woman. He made a complete spin around and was prepared to knock her out totally when he noticed an insignia on her uniform indicating that she was the chief security officer. She could be more useful to them awake than unconscious. So instead he altered his motion and grabbed her around the neck in the crook of his right elbow.
The woman-whose name, Rawling, was stenciled above her left breast-knew how to handle herself. Instinctively she gave Jules a judo flip that sent him flying across the room. But that left her in an exposed position, and Yvette finished her off with an open-handed blow to the kidneys that--left the security chief gasping and retching on the floor of the corridor.
Jules fell perfectly and rolled to his feet, only to find that his sister had taken care of the menace. From the grin Yvette shot him, he knew it would take him a while to live down the fact that he'd let himself be thrown like a novice instead of blocking the move like an experienced professional. But not a word was said now; there was still too much danger, and too much to do.
He ran back to the gagging woman, grabbed her by the top of her hair and yanked her roughly to her feet. "You're holding a friend of ours," he said. "We want her back."
"I... don't know what you're talking about," Rawling gasped.
Yvette grabbed the woman's arm and twisted it behind the security chief's back. "I've noticed," she said, "that memory restoration is in direct proportion to pain applied. I can break everything you've got unless you tell me."
"She's in... main office."
"That's a little better. Now, would you like to lead us there-notifying us, of course, of any boobytraps along the way?" Yvette nodded to her brother as she spoke and Jules let go of the woman's head.
Rawling nearly fell, but managed to catch herself and maintain some of her dignity. Her throat was still sore and she was choking, but she was able to glare defiantly at her two captors, each of whom had a blaster trained directly on her. "You don't have a prayer," she said.
"Then that puts us in good company with you. I'm told that a person can still walk and talk with a missing left arm, so if you want to keep yours you can start moving. Now!"
Yvette's tone of voice left no room for argument.
Rawling had little choice but to comply. She was a wise enough woman to realize that anything was preferable to the certain death she would face at the hands of these two DesPlainians if she should disobey them. Even if this entire organization were broken up and she was forced to stand trial, her own crimes were not major enough to merit a serious sentence. Better to play the odds and hope for a chance to make her break lat- er. "All right," she gritted. "This way."
From a doorway further on, three more guards emerged, guns drawn. They saw the d'Alemberts, whom they'd been ordered to kill on sight, and their first impulse was to fire; but then they saw their chief standing in front of the targets, and they were not sure what to do. As they stood there hesitating, Jules said quietly to Rawling, "We don't enjoy killing people. This doesn't have to be a bloodbath. The choice is yours."
Just then they heard a loud noise over their beads, and the sound of a low roar and lots of scuffling. "Sounds like the reinforcements," Yvette commented, adding for Rawling's benefit, "We invited a few more people to join the party. Your guards could really spend their time better by seeing that the rioters don't get out of hand."
The security chief had no desire to die in a crossfire. "Keep the people in line upstairs,"
she snapped at her men. "That's an order." The guards were obviously hesitant about leaving their leader in such a predicament, but there was nothing else they could do to help her. Besides, their help was needed upstairs to cope with the swarms of rioters who were currently rampaging through the corridors. Silently, they turned and left, and the d'Alemberts breathed a mutual sigh of relief that their captive was a reasonable woman.
"Now," Yvette said to Rawling, "I believe you were about to take us somewhere."
The uniformed woman led them down the hall to one particular door, then stepped through. The other two followed after her. Rawling had tried to use the opportunity to run away, but a blast from Yvette's gun landing just centimeters in front of her feet brought her to a screeching halt. "Not quite so fast," Yvette said. "We'd like to keep up with you."
Rawling waited until the pair caught up with her, then continued.
She led them down a maze of hallways, and the d'Alemberts realized how lucky they'd been to capture her. It might have taken them forever to find their way through this labyrinth unassisted.
A couple of times they ran into more of Rawling's guards, but each time the security chief was able to or der the men upstairs to quell the riot. From the sounds that were emanating over their heads, the guards were having a singular lack of success. Pias Belville was performing his job admirably well.
They came to one door and Rawling hesitated as she reached for the knob. "Go ahead,"
Jules said. "You go first."
"I can't," the woman said. "That room is boobytrapped."
"How?"
"The knob is wired for electricity-and even if it should be opened, a blaster is trained on the door and kills anyone standing in front of it."
"Can't it be turned off?" Yvette asked. "Yes, but I don't have the key. Garst does."
Garst? That was the first time the SOTE operatives had heard that name in connection with this case. Jules looked at his sister, and saw a shocked expression on her face.
"Then Garst is in charge of this place?" he asked Rawling.
"Yes, for the past three months."
Jules was confused; he was sure he'd seen the head of the Vesan murder ring fall into a recycling vat and die. His sister also appeared puzzled, but an expression was beginning to form on her face that Jules had seen there only once before-when she had stood at the door to the vat, looking down into the seething chemicals. It was a mixture of honor, hatred, anger, and... what? Jules doubted even Yvette knew for certain what she was feeling.
Evidently, though, Garst had somehow survived that ordeal and come here secretly, to head up this new criminal endeavor. Jules put aside such speculations as hopeless; right now, the time was for action. In particular, he had to drag his sister out of the morass of emotions she was experiencing. Later, when this whole affair was over, they could wonder how Garst got here. It was only important now that he was here.
"Is there any way to get through other than this door?" Jules asked their captive.
Rawling shook her head. "Not on this level. You'd have to go all the way up to the surface and go around to the other side."
"And by that time," Jules reasoned, "anything could happen. All right, stand back-we'll see how effective this boobytrap is."
The three of them stood well to either side, and the two agents focused their blasters on the hinges of the wooden door. The metal hardware began to melt under the constant searing heat and, after a minute, the door fell in of its own weight. The falling of the door broke an electrical connection, and suddenly a continuous blaster beam flashed out through the opening, waist-high. Anyone standing in the doorway would have been sliced in half.
"Looks passable to me," Jules commented after studying the setup for a moment.
"Khorosho, Rawling, after you."
"But I can't walk through that, I'll be killed." "Nobody said 'walk,' ", Yvette spoke up. "You should be able to crawl on your belly very nicely under that beam.
Unless, of course, the floor in there is charged, too."
"Not... not that I know of."
"Well, you'll find out, won't you? Go ahead."
Under the threat of the d'Alembert guns, Rawling got down on her stomach and crawled forward into the room. She crept over the fallen door and then, with great trepidation, put a hand down on the floor. Nothing happened, so she crawled forward with more confi- dence toward the door at the far end of the room. Jules and Yvette, seeing her go unharmed, got down and followed after her.
Rawling reached the other side and pushed the door open; the knob on that one, apparently, was not boobytrapped. As she entered the open corridor, she stood up and looked behind her. Jules and Yvette were still down on their stomachs, which gave her the perfect chance to escape. Without another instant's hesitation, she turned to the right and ran off as fast as she could. Jules fired his blaster at her, but she was out of the doorway long before the beam would have hit.
"Damn," he exclaimed as he pulled himself through the doorway. Rawling was already too far down the ball; she would have been out of his blaster range, and he didn't even try. "There goes our guide and passport."
