“Woah woah, wait, wait…” She raised her hands.
He paused. Alerts flooded his display. Every motion sensor he’d planted was going off at once. He checked his private feed and saw a flicker of light from downstairs. He knew a flashbang when he saw one. Figures in black were pouring into the foyer, moving up the stairs, taking the lifts. He counted twenty at a glance. “Albion,” he murmured. “How unexpected.”
She smiled. “Someone must have grassed you up.”
“I wonder who,” he said.
“Not me,” she said quickly. “I don’t want to get caught any more than you do.”
“Mmm. Then you won’t object to me activating my security team.”
“Team?”
Coyle extracted his Optik from his coat pocket and tapped it. There was a sudden flurry of clicking as a dozen of his spiderbots scuttled into view. Each was armed with a homemade firearm, no two alike. They scurried past her, moving towards the elevator shaft.
“The fuck?” she said, watching them.
“Idle hands are the Devil’s playground,” Coyle said. “They won’t keep Albion back forever, but they will buy enough time for escape.”
“Well, let’s shift it then,” she said.
Coyle raised his weapon. “I didn’t say ‘we’, now did I?”
“Is that any way to treat a future business partner?”
He laughed. “The pretence was amusing at first, but I’m tired of this game. Who are you really? And why are you – what?” He turned as the drone suddenly twitched in its berth. He activated his display. Data spilled across his vision. Warnings flashed. Someone was trying to crack the firewall. They were trying to hack the drone. “Ah, so that’s it…” he began, pleased to have figured it out.
He heard the scuff of a shoe on carpet, and realised his error even as he turned back. A distraction. Of course. Coyle caught the punch on his forearm and swung his weapon around. She backpedalled, throwing herself behind a stack of boxes as Coyle fired. She scrambled towards the kitchenette as Coyle tracked her. She slid behind an island countertop and out of sight. Coyle didn’t pursue her.
“I don’t want to kill you,” he called out. “I will, if you insist, but I’m pressed for time. As are you. I doubt you have any wish to be caught by Albion.”
Keeping one eye on the kitchenette, he retrieved his Optik and activated the drone. It took him only a few moments to locate the intruding signal. One floor down, directly below. He smiled and gave the drone its orders. As it lifted off and sped towards the open window, he turned back to the kitchenette. “You made a good effort, but not good enough.”
Silence.
Coyle frowned and started towards the last place he’d seen her, his pistol extended. “Tell me just one thing – did Zero Day send you?”
“What the fuck is a Zero Day?” she snarled, lunging forward, swinging the wooden cutlery drawer at him. He fired even as she brought the drawer down on the gun in his hand, tearing it from his grip. She came at him fast, fists low. He caught a punch in the side and returned it with interest. They moved in a tight circle, trading blows. She was skilled – trained. And she had the advantage of youth. He swatted her fists aside and scanned the floor for the gun. When he spied it, he made a dive.
She came after him, but not quick enough. He scooped the pistol up and rolled over, aiming at her face. She froze, eyes wide.
Coyle smiled. “Goodbye, whoever you are–”
There was a ding from the lifts. They both turned, startled.
The lifts opened and canister grenades rolled out, spewing smoke. Coyle and his attacker dove for cover, even as the first Albion operatives stormed the floor.
30: Free Fire
When the first of his boobytraps went off, Danny didn’t flinch. He glanced at the lifts, and then back at Olly. “How’s it coming?” They sat on an empty floor, surrounded by glazed windows, looking out over the city. Dozens of free-standing cubicle partition walls were stacked in piles around them. Directly above them, Ro was facing off against Coyle on her own. Danny tried not to think about it.
“I need more time.” Olly was sweating, fingers flickering over the screen of the Optik, ribbons of code unspooling across the screen.
“We might not have it. We’ve got company.”
“Albion?”
“Who else?” Danny rose and went to the lifts. The thought of facing Faulkner wasn’t a pleasant one. Especially with nowhere to go. “Any way you can lock these down?”
“Not right now,” Olly said, not looking up from his screen.
Danny grunted. “Guess it’s up to me, then.” Setting his ACR aside, he started moving the partition walls around, arranging them into improvised entry control points.
As he worked, he became aware of a faint clicking sound emanating from the lift shaft. He considered asking Olly about it, but didn’t want to distract him. Instead, he pried open the lift doors with his survival knife. As he did so, he could hear the whine of the shaft motor as the car rose from the lower floors. Someone was coming up.
A flash of movement above him caught his attention. He looked up – and nearly lost his head. The shot was deafening in the confines of the shaft and he jerked back, ears ringing. A small scuttling shape leapt down from within the shaft and clattered towards him, weapon firing. “Olly – get down!” Danny cried, as he threw himself backwards over one of his improvised berms.
He scrambled towards his weapon, snatching it up even as the spiderbot crested the berm. The pistol attached to its chassis barked, shattering a window behind him. Danny took aim and returned fire. The machine came apart in a spray of sparks and metal shards. He didn’t have time to celebrate however – another one leapt out of the shaft, weapon firing. Danny ducked down, and glanced back to check on Olly, who was lying flat
