Саймон Морден - Degrees of Freedom

Michael pushed the identities of the signals over to him, and Petrovitch called them all.

“Hi. My name’s Samuil Petrovitch, and I now run this show. If someone wants to own up to being in charge, speak now, because what you say will have a dramatic effect on your life expectancy.”

“Hello, Petrovitch-san.”

“Iguro. Tell me you haven’t just killed several people.”

“There was… an unfortunate event, Petrovitch-san. I have my orders.”

“What the huy is that supposed to mean? Your orders come from me, and I’m telling you that you and your crew need to put down your guns and come out, hands on your head.”

“I must respectfully decline. Surrender does not sit well with me, and I have a job to do. Since I have failed in all the tasks I have been given so far, I intend to see this one to completion.” Iguro sighed. “It has been a difficult time for us all.”

“You do know I’m coming in, don’t you?”

“I have anticipated that.”

“ Poshol nahuj. ” He pulled his gun and pointed inside Regent’s Park. “There has to be another way.”

Valentina and Tabletop sprang forward, covering each other as they scuttled from one point of cover to the next. Lucy stumbled out, and Petrovitch glared at her until she stopped.

“You’re not coming. It’s too dangerous.”

“But…”

“I’m terrified of losing you. Do you understand?”

“I need to do my bit.” She found her pistol and showed Petrovitch she remembered how to use it. “You let them do dangerous.”

“They’re soldiers, Lucy.”

“And what are you?” She was next to him, holding him with her steady gaze. She may have even grown over the last day or so, because she looked him straight in the eye.

“Damaged. That’s what I am. And I don’t want you to turn out the same way.”

“You can’t go in there and stop me from following you at the same time.”

“Stay behind me, then. Don’t do anything stupid.” He swallowed hard and ran to where Tabletop was, scanning a pathway between domiks with her gun held rigid in front of her.

“We’re clear so far.”

“It’s fine: we’re getting a map. I’ll overlay the target information and send it to your arm. My best guess is that they’re going to try and destroy Container Zero. I think we need to keep it intact.”

Michael forwarded the satellite imagery, and Petrovitch could see himself as a glowing white dot against the darkness of the container. He tagged the others, and then moved his point-of-view to Container Zero.

Nine sources, and he knew which one was Iguro. They’d set up a crude perimeter, concentrating on the only way in by vehicle. Two were in the container: he couldn’t see them, but he could sense their transmissions.

Tabletop studied the screen on her forearm. “One to pin them down, the others to take them from behind.”

“We need to take the container before they rig it. I don’t fancy fighting over another bomb. How about me, Tina and Lucy go straight down the middle, and you go wide?”

“There’s someone coming.”

Petrovitch automatically looked toward the next corner further in. But the map showed a figure coming from the entrance. He turned back.

Madeleine was striding out. She’d ditched her iconic leathers, the ones she’d lived in for the best part of a year, and traded them for a slightly too small suit of impact armor, and a Joan-issue ceramic helmet. She had her Vatican special in one hand, and a rucksack in the other.

“Thinking of starting without me?” She dumped the rucksack on the ground and unzipped it. Inside were spare clips of ammunition and half a dozen stun grenades. “We have an armory. I thought I ought to raid it.”

Petrovitch took a grenade and threw it underarm to Valentina, then another one. He put one in each of his own pockets. When he looked up, Lucy had her eyebrows raised.

“Screw up with one of these and you lose your hand.”

“You’ve never thrown a grenade in your life,” she countered.

“I don’t mind losing a hand. Or my good looks.” He rummaged around, looking for the right caliber of bullets. “You do not get to play with explosives.”

“Who said anything about playing?”

He found a clip and flicked the bullets into his pocket, on top of the grenade. “No.”

“Why is she here anyway?” asked Madeleine. She took the last of the grenades and was able to hold both in one hand.

“Misplaced loyalty.”

She gave a tight smile. “There seems to be a lot of it about. I take it you have a plan.”

“Nine of them at Container Zero. Sonja’s right-hand man Iguro is there. We’ll hit them from the front. Tabletop is flanking.”

“Can’t you call her by her name?”

“It is her name.” He checked his map and started forward. “Michael’s providing a satellite feed. We know exactly where they are.”

“But do we know what they’re doing?”

“Getting rid of the evidence.” He turned to Tabletop. “Okay?”

She nodded, and slipped down the narrow passage between two rusting containers. Even though she vanished from view, Petrovitch had her tagged. He watched her sweep around in an arc, using the same information he was receiving to stay out of sight.

Until she needed to strike. She positioned herself close to one guard and waited for a diversion. Petrovitch was happy to supply it. He hooked his finger in the pin of his first grenade, and judged the distance he needed to throw it. He could reconstruct the ground ahead of him so that the containers turned into wire frames, and he could see through them. The track curved gently around, and stopped in front of Container Zero.

Easy, then. He squeezed the lever, yanked the pin free and lobbed the grenade. It bounced once with a hollow boom against a steel roof, then fell neatly into the open ground in front of the open container.

Valentina watched the trajectory of his throw and followed it with one of her own.

The first thunderclap sound was bad enough, and the second came a moment later. Two blinding flashes of lightning burned sharp shadows against the walls. Tabletop stepped out of her hiding place and put a single round in the back of a man’s head.

“One,” she said, and moved fast toward the next.

Iguro’s men were shooting wildly. Ricochets rattled container walls, and Valentina was happy to let them know she had something bigger than a side arm. She raked the outside curve of the turn, sending bullets howling. Tabletop had reached her second target, and he wasn’t even looking out toward the rest of the domiks anymore, but back to the rest of his group, terrified of being the last one alive.

He needn’t have worried.

“Two,” said Tabletop.

Petrovitch readied his second grenade. Madeleine holstered her gun and dragged out both her pins.

“We need to finish this.” She ran the inside of the curve, and threw both grenades high back over her head. Without waiting for them to land, she took her gun again and turned the corner.

“ Chyort. ”

Valentina took one down that had chosen to run toward her; Tabletop, a third. The grenades landed, bounced, and exploded, sharp cracks that stiffened the already smoky air. The light was searing, and only those with their eyes tightly closed could see afterward.

In the next five seconds, before Petrovitch could tumble to the ground behind his wife, before Tabletop could step into plain sight and pick her next victim, Madeleine had aimed and fired three times.

They were dead before they knew they’d been shot. She ignored the falling bodies and walked forward toward the open doors of Container Zero. One man was still trying to press a detonator into a block of gray marzipan. Then he wasn’t, the two items he was trying to marry falling from his opening hands.