“See if there’s a back way out,” he said, “or a closet or somewhere else to hide in if we need to.”
Joe began to look around, and Kurt squinted through the narrow fissure. Whatever plan had been arranged to deal with the outsiders seemed to be falling apart. Some of Jinn’s men ran down the hall, wounded. Moments later reinforcements charged up it, and the noise of the battle grew louder, including explosions from stun grenades.
“Nowhere to hide back here,” Joe said. “No back door either.”
Kurt kept his eye on the gap. “Just our luck to show up in time for the family feud.”
“A minute earlier, and we’d have been caught in the fight,” Joe countered.
“But two minutes earlier, and we’d have been through the battle zone and on our way up to the roof, with them fighting behind us to give us cover.”
“You have a point,” Joe said.
Kurt wedged his foot against the base of the door, widening the gap just a bit and allowing him to see more of the hall. The sound of footsteps reached him well before he could see who or what was approaching.
“Company coming,” he whispered.
Joe held still.
A group passed by, two guards prodding a young woman along. Her face showed fear, but more of something else. Kurt settled on acceptance or resignation.
She passed by in a blink, but a strange feeling rushed over Kurt as he considered her appearance. She was short, with dark spiky hair, a tan complexion and sad eyes. She looked like a prisoner, and, what’s more, she looked like …
Kurt leaned back against the wall. “We have a problem,” he announced.
“You mean beyond being trapped in a maze in the middle of the desert surrounded by ruthless thugs?”
“Yeah,” Kurt said, “beyond that. You’ve met Kimo, right?”
“A couple of times,” Joe said. “Why?”
“Describe him for me.”
“Great guy,” Joe said. “Built like a running back. Stocky, broad-shouldered. He was only about five foot seven, but he was strong as an ox and probably one hundred and eighty pounds.”
“Now, describe his sister.”
“Sad and a little unstable, but with good reason.”
“This isn’t the time get deep on me,” Kurt prodded. “What does she look like?”
“Beautiful,” Joe said. “High cheekbones, fine features, long tan legs.”
“Right,” Kurt said. “Tall and thin, with long limbs and fine silky hair.”
“What are you getting at?”
“I just saw a woman in the hall who looked a lot more like Kimo than the woman we left back on Aqua- Terra.”
“You’ve really got to be kidding me. Was she a prisoner?”
“Looked that way.”
“You don’t think …”
“I do.”
Joe grasped the seriousness of the situation instantly. “So if Leilani is here, then who’s back there on Marchetti’s island?”
“I’m not sure,” Kurt said. “But considering how quick she pulled the gun on Marchetti and then somehow found a way to make up with him afterward, I’m guessing she’s a professional.”
“You called her a hit squad,” Joe reminded him.
“I was joking, but she didn’t bat an eye.”
“No, she didn’t,” Joe said. He took a deep breath. “Paul, Gamay and Marchetti are in danger.”
Kurt nodded. “We have to warn them. Whoever she is, she has to be working for Jinn.”
Before Joe could add anything the door burst open, kicked in by a heavy boot. Men carrying Uzis piled through the gap, swarming over them before they could respond. They were knocked to the ground, subdued and disarmed without a fight.
Two men searched them while others held them down.
“Jabberwocky,” Joe grunted.
“Thanks,” Kurt grunted back sarcastically, the weight of three men holding him down, “I didn’t realize.”
When they’d been relieved of all the tools and weapons, they were lifted to their feet and held in place as another figure entered the room: Jinn al-Khalif, with a rifle in his hand.
He strode up to Kurt. “We’ve been waiting for you,” he said.
“No doubt your spy told you we were coming.”
Jinn smiled like a jackal. “Yes, as a matter of fact, she did.”
With that, he slammed the butt of his rifle into Kurt’s gut, knocking the wind out of him and dropping him back to the floor.
“Her name is Zarrina. She sends her regards.”
CHAPTER 24
BACK ON BOARD THE FLOATING ISLAND OF AQUA-TERRA, Paul and Gamay had spent most of the day with Marchetti, studying the sample of “wild” microbots they’d captured.
A makeshift lab had been set up to replace the flooded forward compartment. Marchetti’s computers, a small radio transmitter, and other equipment now lay scattered about the room.
Without the electron microscope, they couldn’t see the individual microbots, but under a pair of medical- grade optical scopes Paul and Gamay were studying two separate samples that had grouped together in little clusters almost like algae or bacteria.
Marchetti sat at his computer console, tapping away. Leilani sat nearby, fidgeting nervously. After spending the morning calling up the original design specs, they’d begun testing and attempting to signal the bots with the standard commands Marchetti had programmed into the prototypes years before.
“They’re not doing anything,” Paul said for the tenth time.
“Are you sure?” Marchetti said, still transmitting command protocols. “I mean they’re awfully small, maybe you’re missing something.”
“We’re looking at them through the microscopes,” Paul said, “and they’re just sitting there. Like lazy relatives after a Thanksgiving feast.”
Gamay shot him a look. “You’re not talking about my relatives, are you?”
“Just Cousin Willie, for the most part.”
She appeared hurt for an instant and then shrugged. “You’re right, he flops on that couch Thursday afternoon and doesn’t get up until Sunday.”
Marchetti coughed loudly to get their attention. “Assuming the microbots haven’t been taken over by the spirit of Cousin Willie, I can only conclude that Otero has changed the command codes.”
“So how’s this going to help us, then?” Leilani asked.
Before Marchetti could reply Gamay asked a more practical question. “Is there any way we can extract the codes from the bots themselves? Maybe reverse engineer them and read their programming?”
Marchetti shook his head. “Not with the equipment I have here.”
“What about extracting it from Otero himself?” Leilani added. “Or from his friend? We have them down there in those cells. Let’s grab the keys and go talk to them. And by talk, I mean force them to talk.”
Gamay glanced at Paul. They were worried about Leilani. As the days wore on, she seemed only to grow angrier and more frustrated, especially since the incident on the airship.
“I’m pretty firmly in the anti-coercion camp,” Marchetti said.
“He tried to kill you,” Leilani said.
“Good point,” Marchetti noted. “Let’s go beat it out of him. I’ll see if I can find a rubber hose or something.”
