“I think, perhaps, Cole said it best.” Bharat forced a grim smile. “Perhaps you should go fuck yourself.”
The Commander snapped his fingers and pointed out at the posts. “Get the pipes.” He looked away in disgust, as did the others, who’d all turned on Cole.
This was it. This was the end of the mission. Time to d—
“Excuse me!” a calm woman’s voice boomed. “Is Captain Esparza here?”
Everyone, including Bharat, startled at the sound. For a moment, Bharat felt certain the speaker was Advanced. She had the distinguished accent he was used to hearing on Phorcys, and projected an elegance that was refreshing.
A tall, slim figure with a voice bigger than she was stood now before a side door leading into the warehouse, squinting, with one hand raised high. A spotlight — probably controlled by one of the Commander’s soldiers — shined right in her face. Even if she wasn’t actually Advanced, she could easily pass.
The gorgeous intruder wore a shiny flight jacket, a pressed button-down shirt, and tight jeans tucked into gleaming combat boots. Her dyed platinum-blond curls gleamed in the glare, and a civilian pistol rode her hip.
“Who let you in here?” the Commander demanded.
“Just to be clear,” the woman answered, standing her ground amidst guns and spotlights, “this is the current hideout of Commander Graham Esparza, is it not?”
So “the Commander” was actually Graham Esparza. Bharat would not regret dying to kill Graham Esparza. Esparza had cut off a good man’s toes, yet ... what was this woman doing?
“The fuck is going on?” one of the shadow soldiers said.
Torn between action and restraint, Bharat surveyed the soldiers and their commander. He didn’t snap his frayed bonds, not yet. This woman’s appearance changed the combat equation.
“Could we speak without this light in my face?” The woman pursed her lips. “It’s rather rude.”
No one turned the spotlight off.
Esparza’s own hand went to the pistol at his hip as he took two steps toward the woman. The farther he walked away, the harder it would be to reach him and snap his neck before his soldiers reacted. Bharat’s hands clenched behind his back.
“Identify yourself at once,” Commander Graham Esparza said, “or this will be the shortest negotiation in which either of us has ever participated.”
The woman offered a truly fetching smile. “If you lovely people know anything about Star’s Landing, you’d know me as the Golden Widow.” Her smile grew into a rather self-satisfied smirk. “I’m here to make you obscenely rich.”
Bharat stiffened. The Golden Widow had arrived, which meant he was this close to retrieving Senator Tarack’s stolen disc. All he had to do now was kill Captain Esparza, and seven of his soldiers spaced widely around this warehouse, without a gun or knife or anything but the loose canine clutched in his palm. Then all he had to do was cross an entire warehouse and get to the Golden Widow before she sprinted out that door into hostile territory she knew, and he didn’t know at all.
So he wasn’t close to Tarack’s disc at all, really.
“How do we know you’re actually who you say?” Esparza’s hand rested on the butt of his pistol, and his soldiers still had a mess of guns pointed at her. “No one knows what the Widow looks like. If it is you, why reveal yourself to me?”
“I felt it best to open negotiations with a gesture of trust,” the Widow said. “Now, please! Turn off your spotlight, gentlemen, and let’s negotiate like civilized people.”
A quiet snap marked the ropes tumbling off Bharat’s previously bound hands. Shit! He’d cut too far, too fast, or the Truthers had used really shitty rope. He needed to let this play out, but as soon as anyone noticed the rope was off ...
Esparza gestured to someone. The spotlight on the Golden Widow finally went out, and even in the dusk that remained, Bharat could see soldiers advancing on her from all sides.
To Bharat’s right, two Truthers stood close together in murmured conversation. There was an unclaimed rifle on the table behind them. Perhaps out of habit, the man idly glanced Bharat’s way. Then he took another, much longer look.
Bharat hurled himself out of the chair and kicked the man’s knee sideways. Seven. No choice now but to fight.
The Truther howled and collapsed as Bharat snatched the rifle off the table and fired it point-blank at the other nearby Truther. He splashed her brains across the warehouse even as her hand dropped to the pistol at her hip. Six. Nice of these idiots to keep their weapons loaded.
Bharat dived over the table, slammed into the edge on his way down, and took it down sideways with him, creating concealment. He imagined the familiar click-click-slam of the rifle’s bolt as he loaded the new round. He didn’t actually hear anything, because bolt-action Patriot rifles were fucking loud.
Two holes blasted through the table just above his prone body. Two shots, which meant two soldiers reloading. Bharat popped up and shot one prowling Truther in the chest. Five. The dead Truther’s partner finished reloading and took aim.
The Golden Widow shot that woman in the back of her head. Four. Then the Widow dived for cover behind the nearest biocrete pillar, but the Commander didn’t try to shoot her or Bharat. Commander Graham Esparza pulled his pistol and spun on Jaxon Cole, one eye closing as
