Timothy Zahn - Blackcollar - The Judas Solution

But there was nothing he could do about it. He'd argued and warned and pleaded; but in the end Taakh had chosen to go with Haberdae's raid.

Perhaps that shouldn't have surprised him, Galway thought with a touch of bitterness. Khassq-class warriors were trained for direct action, not the kind of subtlety that was required here. Perhaps he, like Haberdae, was hungering for combat, even combat where all the Ryq and prefect themselves would do was watch.

"They've turned left on Oak," the tech reported.

"Means they're probably not heading for the Ring Village quarter, either," Haberdae muttered. "Too bad.

I'd have liked a good excuse to go in and clear out that snake pit. All right, pull one of the units out of Ring Village area and shift it to—let's see—"

"Sir—accident in the Eleventh Street viaduct!" the tech said suddenly. "The van's gone into a fishtail."

"Were they hit?" Haberdae demanded, grabbing the headset he'd taken off earlier and jamming it back onto his head. "Tracker One, what the hell's happening?"

"Get one of the spotters down there right away," Galway ordered, his heart thudding suddenly in his chest as his eyes swept the board. If they got the nearest intercept teams moving immediately—

"Cancel that," Haberdae snapped, throwing a glare at Galway. "Someone's clipped them, that's all. The last thing we want to do is panic—what?" he interrupted himself, pressing hard on his earphone.

"What is it?" Galway demanded.

"They've left the van, all four of them," the tech said tightly. "They're on the stairs heading up to Eleventh."

"Scramble all units," Galway ordered. "Now. And get that spotter down."

"Do it," Haberdae confirmed. He glared at Galway again, but there was a sudden tightness now to his throat muscles. "How in hell's name did they spot the trackers?"

"They're blackcollars, that's how," Galway told him grimly. "Where are they going?"

"They've split up," Haberdae told him, pointing at the board. "Looks like Shaw and Judas are headed south toward the casino, with Lathe and Mordecai heading north toward the mall." He snorted gently.

"Well, that's convenient. We can grab Shaw without having to worry about the wrong story getting back."

"Maybe too convenient," Galway cautioned. Sending a superior officer and the least capable fighter of their group to go running off on their own? That didn't sound like Lathe.

"I'll take what I can get at this point," Haberdae said. "Units Five through Eight: converge on the Spinning Wheel Casino—capture formation. Units One through Four: hold containment around Eleventh Street Mall. Stand ready to assist Spinning Wheel units."

"You should send at least a couple of units after Lathe and Mordecai," Galway said. "They're going to think it suspicious if we ignore them completely."

Haberdae made a face. "Fine. Unit One: move on the mall." He looked back at Galway. "They'd just better not actually interfere with them," he added ominously.

Galway looked back at the board. "Somehow, I don't think that's something you need to worry about."

Judas and Shaw were nearly to the casino's front entrance when Security cars suddenly appeared, screeching around various corners as they sped into the parking lot, their red and blue lights flashing.

"Like I said, Haberdae's nothing if not unsubtle," Shaw said, picking up his pace and digging beneath his coat. "Button up."

"That'll make us awfully conspicuous," Judas objected, searching desperately for a good reason why they should leave their battle-hoods off. He had a fair guess now as to what was going on, and with Lathe and Mordecai out of sight a straightforward paral-dart attack would be the easiest way to get Shaw out of the picture.

Unfortunately, Shaw knew that, too. "You want a face full of paral-darts?" the tactor countered as he pulled on his battle-hood and snugged it down over his flexarmor turtleneck. "Get it on."

Grimacing, Judas pulled out his own hood. So that was that. With Security's best weaponry now useless, he would just have to look for an opening to take Shaw down himself.

He had the hood on and was adjusting the goggles over his eyes when a spray of paral-darts from the approaching cars washed over him, jabbing tiny needles into his outer clothing and ricocheting off his battle-hood. A pair of passersby, caught by the edge of the spread, collapsed silently onto the sidewalk.

"Watch your mouth," Shaw warned, holding a gloved hand up to protect his own exposed skin as a second burst swept over them. Running past the casino's startled doorman, the tactor straight-armed one of the two side doors flanking the elaborate central revolving door and headed inside.

Judas was two steps behind him, slipping neatly through the opening as the door swung closed again.

"Where to?" he asked, breathing hard.

"A moment," Shaw said. He spun around to face Judas—

And to his horror, Judas saw the other had a shuriken in his hand. He had barely enough time to flinch back before Shaw cocked his arm and let the star fly.

But it didn't slash through Judas's cheek and teeth, as in that frozen second he'd fully expected it to.

Instead, the shuriken whistled harmlessly past his ear; and as he turned to follow its path he saw it bury itself in the edge of the door they'd just come through, cutting through the panel and into its frame, effectively jamming it shut. Two more stars followed the first, sealing the revolving door and the other side door as well.

"Can't make it too easy for them," Shaw said casually. "This way."

Pulling out another shuriken, he headed off in the direction of a gaudy restaurant sign set into the high ceiling to their right. Judas followed, a creepy numbness settling into his gut. Barely thirty seconds earlier, a distant part of his mind reminded him, he'd actually been considering trying to personally take this man down.

Like the doorman, the restaurant's hostess merely gaped in surprise as the two men charged past her.

Some of the patrons did the same, while others simply ignored the sight, as if a pair of masked men in a hurry were nothing particularly out of the ordinary. No one tried to stop them as Shaw led the way across the main dining area and through a service doorway. "Hood off," he muttered to Judas, pulling off his own battle-hood and goggles as he led the way down a wide service corridor.

Frowning, wondering what the other was up to now, Judas complied. They reached a T-junction and Shaw turned into the cross corridor, and Judas saw an unmarked door five meters ahead.

A door flanked by two of the biggest and ugliest men he'd ever seen.

And with that, Shaw's plan became clear. Neither guard had a gun in his hand, but that would have quickly changed if they'd seen a pair of blackcollars in full battle gear charging down on them. Their weapons wouldn't have been much use against flexarmor, of course, but the sound of shots would have shown Security which way they'd gone.

But with their hoods off and the rest of their flexarmor concealed, he and Shaw were just a couple of guys who might have taken a wrong turn. The sort of intruders toward whom even professional bodyguards might be inclined to show a little initial restraint.

Sure enough, one of the guards took a step forward, holding up a hand palm outwards. "This here's a private party," he said as Shaw continued striding toward him. "The main room's back that—"

The last syllable came out in a grunt as Shaw leaped across the last two meters, pivoting on his left foot and snapping his right up in a side kick to the man's stomach.

The second guard threw himself back against the door, his hand diving beneath his jacket. Without bothering to put his right foot down, Shaw cocked it back and did a little chicken hop past the crumpled body of the first guard. As the second man's hand emerged gripping a flat handgun, Shaw kicked the weapon hard into the man's chest.