“Unless the lab is bigger than I think it is, they’re not alive in there, either.”
Roslyn nodded, focusing on the spike of sheer anger that gave her.
“So, these fucking murderous monsters have killed a thousand people in their goddamn lab,” she whispered. “And then went on to kill thousands more with that bomb in your apartment. I don’t… I can’t… Why?”
“Because they’re convinced that they are better,” Killough said, his voice very quiet. “Because they’re convinced non-Mages don’t matter—that even other Mages sometimes don’t matter. Because the science and the possibilities are so incredible to them that the consequences and the prices of their actions don’t register.
“It’s not even the Republic,” he noted. “The Republic you could respect; they had an ideal…They lied and manipulated, but at least they stood for something. Finley didn’t. Finley was in it all for his own power.”
“Thankfully, someone put a bullet in him,” Mooren replied. “But these feel like the same mold. What do we do?”
“We find them,” Roslyn said firmly, finally opening her eyes and studying the holographic map that Killough was creating. “We find them, and we capture them—and then we give them scrupulously fair trials and then we shoot them.
“Because we are better than them and we will do it right,” she told the Marine and the spy. “But before that, before anything, we need to find the fuckers. So, tell me, Agent Killough, what does the map look like now?”
It didn’t look like an answer; that was certain.
The six red splotches of Jackson’s rendezvous locations formed a lopsided circle some fifteen kilometers across. Inside that circle were at least four of Triple Q’s projects, including half a neighborhood—elementary school included—a large park and two apartment complexes.
It didn’t include any office towers, but there were two just outside it.
“Well, that cuts our targets pretty significantly,” Killough noted. “Four projects, assuming we’re only looking at the ones that would be convenient to all six locations…”
“Or Lafrenz and ad Aaron could be intentionally creating a pattern to fool the mob,” Roslyn pointed out. “From what our contact said, the mob was already getting twitchy about Jackson’s methods. Our targets might have realized that and set up a false trail.”
“Agreed,” the spy said. “But we don’t have anything else to go on. We’ll need to start working through Triple Q’s construction projects eventually, and this gives us a place to start.”
“We have the same problem with ground-penetrating radar as before,” Roslyn said. “Plus, if we fire it across the entire zone, people are going to notice. It won’t cause a lot of trouble, but enough burnt-out microwaves and cheap electronics, and people might notice a pattern.”
“The alternative is we see what overhead we can get from Huntress and look for oddities,” Mooren suggested. “That’s what you did at the casino, and it helped confirm there was something there, right?”
Roslyn nodded slowly.
“Overflight by the shuttle is going to draw just as much attention as the radar,” she admitted. “More, probably. But Huntress can get into position and give us an orbital view. It’s a starting point.”
“And what happens if there’s nothing visible from above?” Killough asked. “There’s a school right there. We can’t exactly go in shooting the same way.”
“If we’re certain, we can bring in the Guardia to evac the school as we move in,” Roslyn replied. “But if we’re quiet, no one on the surface ever needs to know anything.”
She studied the holographic map again and sighed.
“Herbert,” she called the pilot. “Can you get us down in that park without drawing too much attention?”
“There’s a Guardia precinct on the south edge, opposite the school,” the pilot reported after a moment. “If we ask nicely, do you think they’ll let us borrow their shuttle pad?”
“I think so,” Roslyn agreed. “All right, people. Let’s move.”
Maybe a rooftop view would bring answers the orbital view didn’t.
27
Nothing. There was nothing on the orbital overhead that stuck out as unusual. It was a suburban park, three kilometers square of mostly untouched wilderness surrounded by stormwater ponds.
To the east, toward the main continent, there was a suburb that Triple Q had built. To the west were a slew of apartment complexes, including two built by their target.
North was a low-sprawling commercial district of shops and some small apartments and office towers. The far northern side was marked by a pair of Triple Q-constructed office towers.
The south was a light industrial district, with the Guardia station they’d landed the shuttle on.
Nothing about the region screamed “secret evil lab” to Roslyn, but based off what Jackson had told them, more than two hundred people had vanished in handovers around the area—and it was one of their three highest-density areas of Triple Q construction.
“Triple Q built the suburb here,” Knight told them, the cyber-Marine having joined the analysis now. “They also built these apartment complexes directly across the park, and about forty percent of the storm drain system for everything around here. All funneling to these drainage ponds to help sustain the natural wetland.”
“And the park?” Roslyn asked quietly.
“Triple Q put in the paved pathways and the two security-and-maintenance stations,” Killough said. The agent stroked his stubble thoughtfully and then tapped a structure well away from everything else.
“Water processing plant,” he noted. “They use the stormwater ponds as a counter-flood reservoir as well, but the water goes back into the city system eventually and has to be treated.
“It’s not on our Triple Q list but let me take a look.”
A minute ticked by. Then another. Roslyn was pulling up data on the stormwater drainage system around the park and then stopped.
“Oh, fuck me,” she murmured. “Or is it supposed to be Eureka?”
“Commander?”
In response to Knight’s query, Roslyn threw the drainage map onto the hologram. All six of their rendezvous locations for the human traffickers’ contacts with the lab were within a block
