Somehow, even with a team in place, Daiyu had lost track of the target at Penn Station. The Society must have whisked her away. She did not know why the target had come to New York—that was foolish—but assumed it had to do with the Star Phone.
When Daiyu had picked Andie up entering the Museum of Natural History, hijacking the cameras had been child’s play.
This time she wouldn’t lose her.
Daiyu returned to the camera nearest the restroom. Recovering the Star Phone for the Archon would make for a successful mission, but recovering the Star Phone after learning the next destination would be an even greater victory.
From behind she heard the sound of her office door opening. Her beautiful face twisted into a snarl. Not now. Only two other people in the building—Jianyu’s top lieutenants—had biometric access to the room. Annoyed at the intrusion, she spun in her chair as she realized a third person had access.
The Archon.
The thought caused Daiyu’s heart to hammer in her chest. As her chair completed its swivel, she reached for the scarab beetle preserved in amber around her neck, but saw that the person in the room was not wearing a robe or a mask. It took Daiyu a moment to process what she was seeing: a tall black woman in tight black clothing and a backpack coming through the doorway holding a gun. Lying on the floor in a pool of blood behind the woman was a severed head. The grotesque sight resembled something out of a Greek tragedy, and at first her brain registered it as a prop, some sort of sick practical joke.
Then she recognized the head as belonging to one of Jianyu’s lieutenants, realized who the woman was, and saw from her deadly expression that a joke was the furthest thing from her mind.
Jianyu’s second-in-command, Daiyu thought.
Biometric access.
She lurched to her feet, her spine screaming in protest from sitting so long. The Archon’s wonderful trick had dissipated hours after their meeting, leaving Daiyu grateful for the reprieve but just as crippled as before. “You!” she said, blinking rapidly. “How did you arrive without—”
“Quiet,” Zawadi commanded, striding forward to level the gun at Daiyu.
Though horrified by the severed head and the appearance of the feared Society enforcer, Daiyu managed to remain calm. She did not fear physical death as did most people. More important was saving her brother. She saw Zawadi’s eyes absorb the text exchange on the hologram. Daiyu waved her bio-bracelet and whispered a command, causing the computer screens to go blank and the hologram to shut down.
Zawadi noticed. As she rushed forward, Daiyu spoke again into the bio-bracelet, this time sounding a piercing alarm throughout the building. Zawadi cursed and backhanded her across the face. Before Daiyu could recover, Zawadi grabbed the fingers of her left hand and bent them back, then raised the gun and shot her right through the palm where the bio-bracelet was implanted.
Daiyu fell shrieking into the chair, aghast at what had been done. Her bio-bracelet—her link to the digital realm—her beloved companion! The intense physical pain was secondary. It was as if Zawadi had just assassinated Daiyu’s best friend right in front of her. Ignoring the protest from her spine and the hole in her hand, Daiyu flew at the other woman in a rage, the fingernails of her good hand extended like claws.
Before she could reach Zawadi, the hateful woman kicked her in the middle of her chest, sending Daiyu’s featherweight body crashing into her desk. She crumpled in pain as Zawadi backed toward the office door and pulled out a black object that resembled a miniature genie’s lamp. Daiyu realized what it was moments before Zawadi pulled the pin and tossed the grenade onto the bank of monitors.
Daiyu’s last thought before her world exploded was one of wonder, as she vividly recalled the final three images the Oracle had shown her: a staircase, a bouquet of calla lilies—and a tower engulfed in flames.
As the incendiary grenade went off, shaking the floor and sending fire pouring out of Daiyu’s office, Zawadi shielded her face and fled down the hallway to her right, aiming for the stairwell.
The destruction of Daiyu’s control center had terminated the alarm system, but the damage had been done. An elevator door whooshed open on Zawadi’s left as she passed, revealing two men brandishing semiautomatics. Zawadi saw them out of the corner of her eye and spun like a cat. One was muscular, even taller than she was, and wearing gym clothes. The shorter man was dressed in jeans and a tight brown shirt, and built like a pit bull.
She saw them a split second before they noticed her. She shot the shorter man in the chest as he exited the elevator, dropping him, but a bullet grazed her arm from the other man’s weapon. Her body armor absorbed it. She flattened against the wall and fired on instinct, catching the shoulder of the taller man. It was a lucky break, because she hit his shooting arm—causing him to drop his weapon, and allowing Zawadi to finish him off with a head shot.
As she turned to flee, someone grabbed her ankle and yanked on it. She fell and dropped her gun. Cursing her carelessness—the first man must have been wearing a vest under that shirt—she tried to yank her leg free, but his grip was too strong. She switched tactics and flipped on her side, letting him pull her back but using the pressure on her trapped leg as
