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Lyle could barely breathe while they walked down the stairs. His pulse hammered in his throat, sweat dripping down his back beneath the stolen police shirt. Every footfall echoed in the concrete stairwell, each sound amplified by his terror.
Kate seemed calm and relaxed, not at all bothered by what they were doing. She moved with practiced ease, her hand resting casually on the railing as though they were just taking a leisurely walk. Not fleeing a building surrounded by federal agents.
Lyle envied that calm. His hands wouldn't stop shaking.
They'd made it down six flights without encountering anyone. The police had cleared the building from the top down, which gave them a narrow window to slip through the gaps. Kate had explained the tactic in the hotel room, her voice matter-of-fact.
"They'll sweep floor by floor," she'd said. "We wait until they're above us, then we move. Stay quiet, stay close, and don't panic."
Don't panic. Easy for her to say.
Once they reached the bottom floor of the stairwell, they hid around the corner and waited. Kate pressed herself against the wall, peering through the small window in the door. Lyle crouched beside her, trying to control his breathing.
"What now?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.
"Now," she said, "the swat team will come in and we will slip out."
"How long does that take?"
"Depends on how efficient they are," she said. "They were probably supposed to check in after clearing each floor, but it could have been each room. I'd say another few minutes at most."
Turned out to be ten minutes, and it felt like an eternity to Lyle.
He kept shifting, feeling lightheaded and dizzy. Kate had kicked him hard in the face earlier, selling their cover as police officers subduing a suspect. The bruise was already forming, his eye swelling. It throbbed with each heartbeat.
His mind raced with all the things that could go wrong. The SWAT team could be running late. They could decide to search this stairwell first. Someone could have spotted them in the hallway. A thousand ways this could fail, and he couldn't stop thinking about every single one.
Kate seemed to sense his anxiety. She placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezed once.
"Breathe," she whispered. "You're doing fine."
He wasn't doing fine. He was terrified. But her touch steadied him, at least a little.
The minutes crawled by. Lyle stared at the door, willing it to open. His legs cramped from crouching, but he didn't dare move. Any sound could give them away.
When the door finally sprang open he almost cried out. He clamped his hand over his mouth, swallowing the sound.
Five men in swat uniforms came in, carrying assault rifles. They moved with military precision, covering angles, communicating with hand signals. Professional. Deadly.
Lyle held his breath.
The team started up the stairs, boots heavy on the concrete. They didn't notice the two fugitives hiding around the corner, pressed into the shadows beneath the landing.
Kate waited until they were a few flights up and then headed toward the door. "Just stay calm and follow me."
Lyle followed, barely daring to breathe. Once they were outside, they saw swarms of people looking at the building, mostly civilians but with officers and detectives mixed in.
The air hit him like a slap. Fresh, cool, free. He'd been trapped in that hotel room for hours, terrified that every footstep in the hallway was someone coming to arrest him. Now he was out, surrounded by police, and somehow that felt even more terrifying.
Kate walked confidently along the building. No one paid them more than a passing glance. A few saw Lyle's bruised eye and stared longer, but no one seemed to recognize him.
She was good at this, he realized. Moving through crowds, blending in, acting like she belonged. It was second nature to her. For Lyle, every step felt like walking a tightrope.
A detective glanced their way. Lyle's heart stopped.
The man's eyes passed over them, lingered for a second on Lyle's swollen face, then moved on.
They kept walking.
They made it through the crowd, and Kate directed him toward the back lot of cars. The parking lot was mostly empty, vehicles abandoned as their owners watched the spectacle. As soon as they were hidden behind some brush she stripped the officer's clothes off. She found an open car and tossed the shirt inside, then the pants.
Lyle did the same, his fingers fumbling with the buttons. His hands were still shaking.
Underneath the police uniform he wore his regular clothes: jeans and a t-shirt with an IP address joke that suddenly didn't seem very funny. He looked like a college student. Normal. Unremarkable.
Good.
Kate moved to another car, tried the handle. Locked. She moved to the next one. Also locked.
"Come on," she muttered, checking a third car.
This one opened. A beat-up Honda Civic, at least ten years old. Perfect for not drawing attention.
Kate climbed into the driver's seat and popped the steering column cover.
"Do you know how to hotwire it?" he asked.
"Of course," she said, popping it open and playing with the wires. Her fingers moved with practiced precision, stripping insulation, connecting leads.
"What if someone comes by and asks what we're doing?"
"Then stall."
"Stall? How am I supposed to do that?"
"I don't know, show them a magic trick."
Lyle sighed. "I don't know any magic tricks."
"Then learn fast."
It only took Kate a few seconds to get the car turned on and moving. The engine coughed to life, and she put it in drive. They drove slowly out of the parking lot, using a back exit that hadn't been closed off.
Once they were on the road heading away from the hotel Lyle started breathing easier. His chest felt tight, adrenaline still coursing through his system. He leaned back against the seat, closed his eyes.
"That sucked," he said.
"Yes it did," she agreed. "But you didn't do too badly considering."
"You kidding? I couldn't even think straight."
"But you didn't freak out," Kate said. "So maybe there is hope for you yet."
"My face hurts."
"Sorry about that."
"No you aren't," Lyle said, opening his eyes and looking at her.
She shrugged. "No, not really. But it sold the act. No one questions two cops subduing a suspect."
"You could have warned me."
"If I'd warned you, you would have tensed up. Your reaction needed to be genuine."
Lyle touched his eye gingerly. It was already swelling shut. He'd have a hell of a black eye tomorrow.
"Where are we going now?"
"Farther east," she replied. "By all reports, that's where Victor is holding up."
"Who's Victor?" Lyle asked.
"He's the guy running this entire operation," Kate said. Her voice went cold when she said his name. "Mercenary. Works for JanCorp. He's the one who orchestrated the drone attacks, the kidnappings. Everything."
"And we're going after him?"
"I'm going after him. You're going somewhere safe."
"Like hell I am," Lyle said. "You need me. I can hack their systems, track their communications. You can't do this alone."
Kate was silent for a long moment. Her hands gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white.
"You used to know him?" Lyle asked softly.
Kate was silent for a long moment. The car hummed down the highway, distance growing between them and the hotel. Finally, she said, "No. I don't think I ever really knew him at all."
"But you worked together."
"Once. A long time ago. Before I knew what he was capable of."
"What is he capable of?"
Kate's jaw tightened. "Anything. Victor doesn't have limits. Doesn't have lines he won't cross. He'll use anyone, kill anyone, to get the job done."
"Sounds like a real charmer."
"He's a monster," Kate said flatly. "And he killed my sister. Or at least, he thinks he did."
Lyle processed that. "Your sister is alive?"
"Helen thinks Kate is dead. Victor told her he killed me. He's using her, manipulating her grief to make her compliant."
"Then we're going to save her."
Kate glanced at him, something shifting in her expression. "We?"
"Partners, right? You said so yourself."
A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. "Yeah. Partners."
They drove in silence for a few miles, the city falling away behind them. Ahead, the highway stretched into the desert, endless and empty.
Lyle settled into his seat, his mind already working on the problem. He needed equipment. A laptop, secure communications, access to the networks Victor was using.
He could do this. He had to do this.
Because Kate was right. Victor was a monster.
And monsters needed to be stopped.
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