dead. Finlay squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, and then pushed the thought aside. He'd mourn later, when he had time. Assuming there was a later.
He threw the grapnel on the end of the wire at the side of the Tower, and it snagged on an ornamental outcropping. He wrapped the other end of the line around both his fists and braced himself. The line snapped taut, straining his arms and biting deep enough into his hands to draw blood. Finlay gritted his teeth and used his remaining momentum to swing him into the side of the Tower. A moment later he was clinging to the wall like an old friend, flexing his aching hands one at a time, trying to get his breath back. He couldn't break his way in, so he'd have to climb the rest of the way down. He looked cautiously down and counted twenty-one stories. He shook his head slowly. He was getting too old for this shit.
It took him over an hour to reach the ground, descending carefully foot by foot, avoiding the notice of the Tower guards. Luckily the explosion had taken out the Tower's exterior sensors, and the guards were all inside, trying to put out the fire on what was left of the top floor. Finlay dropped the last few feet, hitting the ground hard. The solid support felt good under his feet. He looked back up the way he'd come. The top of Tower Chojiro was lost in smoke and flames. Julian's funeral pyre. Finlay still wasn't sure exactly what had happened, but he could guess. He'd always known BB Chojiro would be the death of Julian.
Finlay sighed and decided the time had come to kill Gregor Shreck. He might as well. Everything he cared about had been taken from him. He'd lost his closest friend, Julian. He'd lost all hope of contact with Adrienne and the children. And he'd lost Evangeline too, by walking out on her when she needed him the most. No, he was alone now, and free to do what he should have done a long time ago. The law wouldn't understand. Nor would his former friends and comrades in the rebellion. They'd call him a killer, a renegade, and band together to hunt him down. But none of that mattered. All that mattered now was punishing Gregor Shreck for all the pain and horror he was responsible for. Finlay nodded, once, and then strode away from the burning Tower.
Gregor should have known. The most dangerous man of all is the man with nothing left to lose.
He'd never given up his weapons when the rebellion ended. He'd always thought he might need them again someday. Just in case the new order didn't work out. He had stashed them in a secure lockup in a part of the city where no one asked questions, and kept their existence a secret. Even Evangeline didn't know about them. She would never have approved. A taxi took Finlay to them in under a half hour. He stopped the driver well short of the destination, tipped him enough not to remember who his fare had been, and walked the rest of the way.
He stopped before the plain steel door and carefully checked all his hidden telltales were still secure. None of them had been triggered. His secret was still safe. He opened the locking system with his thumb print and voice code, and nodded, satisfied, to see all his old friends just where he'd left them. Blades, axes, energy guns, projectile weapons, grenades, and all the other useful little items he'd acquired during his time as an assassin. There was enough firepower here to take out a small army, and that was just what he intended to do.
He put on full body armor first. Next came a force-shield bracelet around his left wrist and a sword belt around his waist. The weight of the sword on his hip was reassuring, like coming home. On his other hip, a holster carrying a fully charged disrupter. He slipped a projectile pistol into the back of his belt. He had something special in mind for that. Finally two bandoliers of assorted grenades, shrapnel and concussion and incendiary, crossing his chest and back. Finlay stamped back and forth about the lockup for a while, getting used to the new weight. His plan was very simple. He was going to walk in the front door of Tower Shreck and kill everyone he saw until he got to Gregor Shreck.
And that was what he did. As a plan, it worked surprisingly well. The security in Tower Shreck, as in most of the pastel towers, was mainly concerned with warding off attacks from the air, by gravity sleds, or on the ground, by massive armed forces. They weren't prepared for a single, cold-eyed, cold-hearted killer who no longer cared whether he lived or died. Finlay walked up to the guards by the main door, shot the first one in the face, and cut the throat of the other. A shaped charge from his bandolier blew the main door in. He tossed a shrapnel grenade into the lobby, waited till it had gone off and the screams began, and then stalked into the smoke-filled chamber and cut down the few people the grenade hadn't finished off. Finlay dropped an incendiary to start a distracting fire and made his way up the stairs to the next floor. He wasn't dumb enough to use the elevator.
Guards came running down the stairs, and he killed them all, making his way steadily up the stairwell, stopping at each floor to toss around grenades and incendiaries. Those who didn't die in the blasts were soon preoccupied with trying to escape the building fires and smoke. Sprinkler systems did their best, but had never been designed to cope with anything like this. There were always more guards, and Finlay killed them all, except for those with sense enough to turn and run when they saw death coming.
Finlay's sword arm began to ache, and the blood that dripped from his armor was sometimes his own now, but he didn't care. He was doing what he was born to do, and doing it well. His force shield deflected energy weapons, and in the narrow stairwell the guards could come at him only a few at a time, and that wasn't enough to stop him, not nearly enough. He stepped over the bodies and kept going.
He'd set fires in half the floors of the Tower by now. Thick black smoke was drifting up the stairwell after him. He could hear screaming and panicking and the screeching of alarm sirens, and it was all music to his ears. Let Tower Shreck burn. He wasn't planning on going back down again.
And finally Gregor ran out of guards. Their impressive-looking armor wasn't much use in close-quarter fighting, and with the Tower burning up all around them, most decided they weren't being paid enough to deal with this madman and took to their heels. Finlay carried on up the stairwell, sometimes coughing from the smoke, but not slowing down. He came to the top floor of the Tower and made his way down the deserted corridor, kicking open doors till he came to the reinforced door that led into Gregor's private chambers. Finlay blew in the door with a shaped charge, and strode through the smoke into Gregor's bloodred womb of a room.
Gregor was sitting on his huge rose-petal bed, clutching the sheets defensively around him. Half his oversize face was hidden behind a blood-soaked bandage, and Finlay smiled briefly. Evangeline had done well. But standing beside the bed, gun in hand, was a tall, slender figure, dressed all in black to show off his pale skin and delicate features. Valentine Wolfe. Finlay laughed softly, a disturbing, not altogether sane sound. Gregor flinched. Valentine didn't.
'Well, well,' said Finlay. 'It's all my birthdays come at once. The two men I hate most together in one room. There is a God, and he is good.'
'You and I have never had much to do with Him,' said Valentine easily. 'We've always served a much darker master. But your timing is impeccable, as always. I came here to make an alliance with Gregor, on certain delicate issues that needn't concern you, and you choose this very evening to pursue your somewhat delayed vengeance. Well, I can't allow you to interfere, Finlay, so I'm afraid you're going to have to die.'
Finlay laughed, and it was an ugly sound. Gregor whimpered, and Valentine moved forward to stand between him and Finlay. He put away his gun and drew his sword.
'I've heard many tales of your swordsmanship, Campbell. Let's see how good you really are. Man to man, blade to blade—let's finish what we started in Tower Campbell so long ago. What do you say?'
'I don't have time for this,' said Finlay, and shot Valentine Wolfe through the chest with his disrupter. The energy beam punched through Valentine's chest and exploded out his back, throwing the Wolfe to the floor. Finlay sniffed once and turned to Gregor, who snarled soundlessly at him. Finlay strode forward, putting away his sword and gun, and grabbed Gregor by the shirt front with both hands. He hauled the huge distended body out of bed and threw Gregor on the floor. Flames from Valentine's burning clothes had set alight some of the surrounding furnishings, and the flames were spreading. The heat and flickering light and shadows added a suitably hellish touch to the proceedings. Finlay looked down at Gregor.
'You hurt Evangeline. You're a murderer, and a traitor, and a symbol of everything that's corrupt in the Families and in the Empire. The world will smell better when you're gone. Don't waste my time with threats or warnings. Your guards aren't coming, and I don't care what happens after I'm through with you. All that matters is that you suffer as you made my Evie suffer. I'm going to make you hurt so bad that when you finally die and get to Hell, the fires of the Pit will seem like a release.'
He reached around his back and pulled the projectile weapon out from under his belt. He'd saved it especially for this moment. It was a simple handgun, with eight bullets. He took aim at Gregor's left knee and pulled the trigger. The kneecap shattered immediately under the bullet's impact, and Gregor screamed shrilly, clutching his bloody leg with both fat hands, as though they could force the kneecap back together. Finlay aimed carefully and shot out the other kneecap with his second bullet. Gregor screamed again, flailing his arms as though appealing for help that wasn't there. Finlay raised the gun and shot out Gregor's left elbow. Blood and splintered bone flew on the
