as well. She went to the front of the van and popped it open. She started grabbing things, shoving them into a nylon gym bag that she had apparently found in the truck.
“What did you get?” I asked.
“Later, no time,” she said.
We hurried back up the ramp to Martin.
The big door looked like it was having a tug-of-war with itself. It would shudder and groan and try to rise, and then Martin would do something with a pair of wires in the dismantled control panel and it would slam down again. I saw guards trying to stick their guns beneath the door for a quick shot, but they wound up being driven back by Martin’s silenced pistol.
“Finally,” Martin said as we came up to him. “They’re about to get through.”
“Damn,” I said. “I figured they’d be firefighting longer than that.” I looked around the barren tunnel. I was tired and shaking. If I were fresh, I would have no trouble with the idea of slugging it out with a bunch of guys with machine guns—provided they were all in front of me. But I was tired, and then some. The slightest wavering in concentration, and a shield would become porous and flexible. I’d be likely to take a bunch of bullets. The duster might handle most of them, but not forever, and I wasn’t wearing it over my head.
“Plan B,” I said. “Okay, right. We need a plan B. If we only had a wheelbarrow, that would be something.”
Susan let out a puff of laughter, and then I turned to her, my eyes alight.
“We have a great big truck,” Susan said.
“Then why didn’t you list that among our assets?” I said, in a bad British accent. “Go!”
Susan vanished back down the tunnel, moving scary-fast.
“Martin,” I said. “Get behind me!”
He did, as I lifted my left arm and brought up a purely physical shield, and within five or six seconds, the door had lifted two feet off the ground and a couple of prone shooters opened up on the first thing they saw—me.
I held the shield against the bullets as the door continued to rise, and they exploded into concentric circles of light spread across the front of the shield’s otherwise invisible surface. The strain of holding the shield grew as more of the guards opened fire. I saw one poor fellow take a ricochet in the belly and go down, but I didn’t have the time or the attention to spare to feel sorry for him. I ground my teeth and hung on to the shield as the guards kept a constant pressure on it.
Then there was a roar of large engines and Susan drove the cargo truck forward like some kind of berserk bison, charging the group of guards blocking the road out.
Men screamed and sprinted, trying to avoid the truck. They made it. I didn’t need Martin to tell me to move, as the truck slammed into a turn, throwing its rear end in a deadly, skidding arch. We both sprinted for it in the confusion and flung ourselves up into the cargo compartment, which Susan had thoughtfully left open.
One of the more alert guards tried the same trick, but Martin saw him coming, aimed the little pistol, and shot him in the leg. The man screamed and fell down as the truck picked up speed. Susan stomped the pedal flat, and metal and razor wire screamed as she drove through a section of the fencing and out onto the open valley floor. She immediately turned it toward our escape point, and the truck began to bounce and rattle as it raced away from the facility.
After that, it was simple.
We went back to our ascension point, drank our watered-down flying potions, and bounded up the rocky face of the valley wall like mountain goats. Or possibly squirrels. Either way, it made the eighty-degree incline feel about as difficult to handle as a long stairway.
“Harry,” Susan said, panting, as we reached the top. “Would you burn that truck for me?”
“My pleasure,” I said, and dealt with the cargo truck the same way I had the cars in the parking lot. Thirty seconds later, it huffed out its own explosion, and Susan stood there nodding.
“Okay,” she said. “Good. Hopefully that makes it harder for them to do whatever they’re going to do.”
“What did you find?” Martin asked.
“Mayan ceremonial gear,” I said. “Not focus items, but the other stuff. The props. They were on the truck to be shipped out next.”