Perfect Weapon. Amy J. Fetzer

up the air vents and into this building. He almost hoped that the attackers had left with the vials. Better it killed them than Cisco’s team.

      “Wickum’s here, sir.”

      Cisco glanced at the door as Pete Wickum rushed inside with a silver case. He reached for it. “You get a speeding ticket?”

      Wickum smirked and shook his head. “Stellar evasive maneuvers.”

      “Cocky little bastard.” Cisco kept an ear tuned to the radios, sliding the silver case on top of a steel gray utility box. Opening it, he slipped on a set of thin headphones and flipped a switch. A pulse beat across the screen without sound. Around him, agents tried to get the sensors up and running. Cisco listened to the sonar pulse.

      If confirmed the Cradle’s tunnels were under rubble, yet as far as he could tell, the main body of the facility was intact—which wasn’t much. Nor was he certain if anyone was still alive down there. Thermal imaging wouldn’t pass through that much stone. “Wickum, get excavation equipment up here.” He closed the case, taking it with him as he moved to the door.

      “That’ll scare the tourists.”

      “It’s a gas leak,” he reminded them, then swept out like a black wind.

      An agent watched him. “When I grow up, I wanna be just like him.”

      A few chuckled, and Wickum glanced back from the door. “Trust me. You don’t,” he said and followed his boss.

      Jack was about two seconds away from killing a park ranger. Which would damage the hell out of his military career, but what the hell. He was pretty much on the edge right now.

      “What do you mean you can’t go get them? They’re up there on the mountain and they’ll be raccoon fodder if you don’t.”

      “There’s a gas leak. We’ve been restricted until it’s contained.”

      “Where? They’re caverns, for crisssake!”

      The ranger, patient, huge and Jack counted, dumb as a bag of hammers, said, “The area has lodges, the tower, gift shops.”

      Not that close, Jack thought, frowning. “Who reported it?”

      “We have official word.”

      Jack gestured to the walls of the dinky office. “Who’s official here except you guys?”

      Then he knew. Government. He leaned over the desk to put his face in the pansy-assed ranger’s. Smeared black and tan camo paint sharpened his features. The effect was scary and he wanted to see this man piss his pants. “You listen, pal. I have three buddies who are dead, murdered, and you’d better hotfoot your ass up to where they died.”

      “Murder has to be investigated by the police.”

      He slammed both fists on the desk. “Then get them in here!”

      Ranger Pearl reached for the tottering water bottle. “Sir, calm down and please take your seat. I’ll record your statement and the Luray police are here.”

      “Hey, Pearl?”

      Jack’s gaze snapped to the door. A blond man stood half in, half out. He wore jeans, a sports jacket, and Jack recognized the bulge of a shoulder holster. “Who the hell are you?”

      The blond man’s features tightened, then he motioned to the ranger.

      “I’ll be back to take your statement in a moment,” the ranger said as he left with the big blond guy.

      Jack dropped into the chair, and leaned forward, his head in his hands. Gas leak, my dyin’ ass. Bristling, he scraped his hand over his head, then shot out of the chair, walking the room, flipping at files. A lot of litterbug citations, he smirked, then got a drink from the water cooler.

      They were still out there. His friends. His men. Decaying, attracting creatures and insects when they should be draped in their country’s flag, paid the respect due for men sworn to protect their country. He crushed the thin paper cup, staring out the office window, then pushed the blinds down.

      Cooling his heels just got old.

      Cisco approached the escape route, stopping to study the footprints.

      There was enough moisture and dead leaves to give them a hand full of casts, but he saw three sets, one was very small. Female.

      The escape entrance in the underbrush was intact. Gravel crunched beneath his shoes as Cisco moved behind the partition and walked the corridor. Power had been routed to a generator and lit the stone interior. The sensors were already registering the area free of toxins. At the end was a single steel elevator, bullet and impact proof to ten thousand PSI. It was unmarred but for the bloody handprints smeared all over. He leaned near.

      “Small. Frantic. Female. Look how many times they touched. Get a sample.”

      “There’s another blood trail here,” Wickum said and Cisco turned.

      His assistant squatted near the entrance and gestured with a pen at the bloody stones.

      “Type match it to the blood on the doors. Let’s see if we have more than one runner.”

      “You think this was one of the attackers?”

      “I hope so. There were two females working the graveyard shift.” And alive, he hoped. Neither were the killer type.

      Cisco’s pager went off. He leaned toward the light to read it. The bosses, he thought bitterly. They could wait. He had to collect something other than theory before he could give an initial report. He who makes the gold makes the rules, he thought as he moved out of the stone corridor and into the morning light.

      He slipped his cell free and punched numbers, securing the line, then moving to his car.

      “We have Dr. Sydney Hale,” the agent said on the other end of the line.

      Instead of being relieved, Cisco was instantly suspicious. “Anyone else?”

      “No, sir.”

      Cisco cursed. “No discussions, Combs, and double check your security. Remove all outside traces. Dr. Hale is a witness and a suspect.”

      “Sir?”

      “So far, she’s the only one alive.”

      Cisco cut the line, then dialed again. His boss went off on him the minute Cisco spoke. “No, sir, I don’t know exactly what happened.”

      “Your best scenario, Agent Cisco?”

      “I’d rather not speculate just yet.”

      His boss growled into the phone. “Give it a shot.” It was an order.

      “The attack occurred at zero seven hundred hours. Mother was down seconds before that. We’re locked out of the system, still. The escape lift is covered with blood, three, possibly four sets of footprints on the mountains. For unknown reasons, Dr. Sydney Hale escaped and is now secured.” There was a small stretch of silence while Cisco waited for that to sink in. “We have reports of ground tremors and considering nothing is opening the doors, my first analysis is the Cradle suffered an explosion. We have to assume they took the gas and anything else of value, killed the inhabitants and escaped out the emergency lift.”

      “Good God. How?

      “That I can’t speculate, sir. Until I have something, I’d ask that you not inform the council yet.”

      “And just why should I do that?”

      “This assault team got into one of the most secure facilities in this country, sir.”

      There was a grunt, and then the line went dead.

      Cisco cut the line and tucked the satellite phone inside his coat. He scrubbed a hand over his face, then walked down the mountainside.

      Wickum was right behind him.