From a Drood to a Kill - Simon R. Green Page 0,48

Kate. “Don’t go anywhere, and don’t do anything. We’ll get back to you.”

And that was when all the alarm bells and sirens and flashing lights went off again. People went running in all directions again, this time looking even more upset. Soldiers came hurrying down the corridor, guns at the ready, looking for someone to use them on.

“I heard that!” said Kate. “What have you done, Eddie?”

“Wasn’t me, for once,” I said. “And since it’s not you, this time, I’d better go and investigate.”

I armoured up and started down the corridor. No point in trying to hide that I was a Drood any more. But I did have my armour soak up the noise that my metal feet made on the floor, so no one would know I was coming. Nobody can sneak around like a Drood field agent. I peered into the security control centre. Everyone looked up, and a whole bunch of them had something very like a coronary as they took in my armour. I raised a placating hand.

“It’s Sebastian Graves,” I said. “Security, remember? Now someone talk to me. What’s happened?”

One of the braver souls gestured for me to come over and look at his monitor screen. I leaned in beside him, and he shied away from my armour despite himself. I pretended not to notice. The screen showed a view of the steel-mesh gates I’d passed through on my way in. They’d been flung wide open, and the armed soldiers were lying on the ground, quite dead.

“I’m not getting any life signs on the short- or long-range sensors,” the tech guy said grimly. “Nothing to show who could have done that. The guards never even got a shot off, and whoever did it passed through all our lethal defence measures without triggering any of them. Which is supposed to be impossible. They could already be inside Lark Hill! Whoever they are, they’re a real pro.”

“Like a Drood,” said another tech from a safe distance away.

“No one is that good,” I said.

“Someone is definitely inside the centre,” said the first tech. “Several guards are not reporting in, from the perimeter inwards . . . Someone is heading towards the looked-down room and the Big Ear device! How is that possible? How could they even know where it is?”

“Like you said,” I murmured, “a real pro . . . Come to steal the device—or destroy it.”

“Can’t you do anything?” said the tech.

“I’ll go defend the device,” I said. “In the meantime, lock down all the entrances and exits. Since you can’t rely on the cameras to track our intruder, try boosting the microphones . . . Maybe you can hear him moving even if you can’t see him. And keep everyone else well away from the Big Ear! Soldiers would just get in the way while I’m working.”

“The Commander already sent troops to defend the corridor,” said the tech. “We haven’t heard anything from them.”

“And you won’t,” I said. “Real pros eat soldiers for breakfast.”

* * *

I went running back through the corridors, heading for the locked-down room and Gemma Markham. It could be anyone at all, coming after her. You don’t shut down terrorists without making a lot of enemies. Or it could be someone who wanted the Big Ear working for them. I began to pass dead bodies. Technicians at first, and then soldiers, lying scattered the length of the corridors. Guns lay discarded on the floor. Whoever took these people down did it so efficiently that they never knew what was happening. None of the dead men or women got a chance to defend themselves. So—not just a spy. A professional assassin as well.

I stopped to check a few of the bodies. They’d all been killed in the same way. A single stab wound from behind.

I came to the Big Ear’s corridor, and stopped abruptly. I couldn’t see anything, but I was sure I’d caught a glimpse of surreptitious movement out of the corner of my eye. I put my back against the nearest wall. My armour should protect me from a knife in the back, but I didn’t feel like taking any chances. I looked quickly back and forth, but no matter how fast I turned my head, I couldn’t see anyone. I stood very still and listened. I was sure there was someone else in the corridor.

When you’ve been in the field as long as I have, you learn to trust your instincts. I activated all of my mask’s filters and enhancements—and

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