Delivery
by Lena (language corrections by Labingi)
Chapter 9
The Citadel wasn't a closed up building; behind the gate it opened into a big inside yard and only from there a couple of double doors led to various parts of the fortress. In the middle of the yard, surrounded by a dozen or so of his people, stood the Crimelord in person. Daryl recognized him at once and in spite of himself felt a stab of fear. What will that rogue do when he finds out about their plot? Good reason said: follow their instructions. But what if he doesn't give a damn about good reason? Especially when he is mad. What if he... Daryl swallowed a lump in his throat and pushed the thought away.
It should be any minute now.
The man stepped forward and measured his hostages with a mockingly superior gaze.
"Hello, Guy," he said and moved his eyes to Daryl. "So you are the watchdog. I wonder what that brat did that he is so damned important all of a sudden."
Daryl decided not to grace the comment with an answer.
"So tell me, Daryl, why the hell shouldn't I kill you right now?"
"Perhaps because of the phone call you will receive in a moment."
The Crimelord blinked and for a moment his cool confidence changed into confusion. He hid it in a blink of an eye.
"What phone call?"
"A friend of mine has an offer for you."
Luis Moreno allowed a slight frown on his face. He had been pleased with the outcome of his plan B. Till the last moment he had doubted that it would work out, but it had and now he had Guy in his hands, standing in front of him, even if accompanied by this other guy, whoever he was and whatever he wanted.
But Daryl's words threw him off balance and made a strange suspicion arise in his mind. What the hell did that kid mean?
As if on cue it was exactly at that moment that his phone rang. Feeling even more suspicious, Moreno reached for it and glanced at the number. False alarm, his son. Damn, he had been stupid to let this snot's words enter his nerve system like this. He pressed the button to accept the call.
"What's up?"
He knew that something was wrong the moment Junior spoke – his voice was shaking.
"Hey, dad. Listen, I want you to turn on the camera."
"What is it?"
"Just turn on the camera, please! You'll see."
The Crimelord's hand clenched involuntarily on the phone. His son was scared, there was no doubt about it. He cast a distrustful glance at the young dealer named Daryl, but the handsome face was blank. He switched his mobile to the video/loudspeaking mode like Junior instructed. What he saw first was Junior's face. But it wasn't Junior who held the phone – it was clear from the position.
Mark's features were twisted in a grimace of fear, his head rested against something wooden – it looked like he sat or lay leaning against it. The Crimelord's guts clenched with a terrifying feeling.
"What the hell?" he swore under his breath.
Slowly, the picture moved back to show a wider perspective: the rest of Junior's body... indeed, half lying on the ground. The wooden something behind him turned out to be a big box. And next to his son, in a similar position on the ground he saw Mane. They were both bound – hands and legs. Mane, in addition, was gagged.
A flowery curse crossed the Crimelord's mind.
"Who the hell are you and what do you want?" he screamed furiously to the phone, in the same instant becoming aware what it was about. What it had to be.
He cast another glance toward his hostages. Bastards!
"Hello, Moreno," said a deep, soft voice from behind the phone. At the next second the picture on the small screen twisted abruptly and another face came into view. "As to who I am, you can call me Katze." The speaker was a red-haired, strikingly attractive man in his late twenties. The name, the image, were strangely familiar although the Crimelord was rather positive that he'd never met the man before. "As to what I want, you should have guessed it by now, but I might just as well lay it out for you. I believe you have two of my men, am I correct? One is the total idiot that decided to risk his life for the-shit-of-it and I hope that he hears it. Total idiot!" he repeated more loudly. "Once he gets out of this, he'll regret you didn't kill him, but let's leave it for later. Anyway, you have two of my men, but as you saw, I have two of yours... and one of them is, I suppose, especially valuable for you. What I want is a trade. My men for your men. Of course I don't have to mention that I want my men back intact and in one piece. If anything happens to either of them, the same happens to your son. Do we understand each other?"
The Crimelord clenched his jaws angrily. This morning he had sent his son and Mane to meet with two guys who claimed they had an offer for him. A friend of mine has an offer for you. It was all a plot against him, and he'd fell for it. Fuck, how he would love to rip off this young dealer's head now. Fuck, how he regretted that he couldn't do it. He had to think, he had to think!
He hadn't used to release any of his hostages, no matter in what circumstances they became his hostages. Once they were here and saw the Citadel from the inside, it was like a rule to never let them out alive. He'd made one exception today... and it looked like he would have to do it again. It wasn't a very harmful fact in itself – his whereabouts were no secret, nor could his guests see any revelations in the Citadel, which could later on prove inconvenient. No, the only real harm was done to his criminal pride, and for that he was furious. But the fact was once he gets what he wants – a little treasure in Guy's arm, he could let him go, the brat didn't matter anymore, he didn't know a thing anyway. So, all in all, the Crimelord would get what he wanted anyway, no matter if he killed Guy and his guardian, or let them go.
All things considered, it was an easy decision.
"Yeah, we understand each other," he spat.
"Very well then. We'll be at your place at sunset, then we'll make the exchange."
"Good," the Crimelord said then disconnected without saying goodbye.
He shoved the mobile into his pocket, in the same movement closing his hand around his gun. He looked up and around. His men stood in one place, staring at him questioningly, waiting for his orders. He studied the prisoners' faces, but he could read nothing from them. No fear, but no smugness either. Oh damn, he really was furious. Furious that he was outsmarted, furious that he was forced to follow someone else's orders. Fuck!
Before anyone could react, he jerked up his armed hand and shot twice. Two bodies fell limply to the ground. Quick and easy death. The others jumped back in panic, but he was already lowering the gun. Seeing the reaction comforted him a little. Good, people feared him, like they should. He felt calmer right away. His brain cleared – and he saw a solution. And those two pawns didn't matter anyway.
"You two," he nodded at two of his men, "lock the watchdog up in the north wing. You and you," he pointed at two others, "take Guy and follow me. The rest of you, get rid of the bodies."
That said, he turned on his heel and moved to the door on the left. He didn't have to look back to know that his men would dutifully follow his orders.
The game wasn't over yet, oh no. The great Crimelord wasn't going to succumb to some assholes from the desert. There were plenty of ways to deal with the ones like them. He knew where to look for them, he could send his people. But what for? Those fools would come to the slaughter themselves in just a few hours. Straight into his hotbed. They would stand no chance even if they were best-trained soldiers; they would never get away. Luis Moreno chuckled under his breath with satisfaction when he imagined what he would do those two... to all four... before he would kill them. No one messed with the Crimelord. No one! The world had to accept that.
The cell was surprisingly spacious, even slightly bigger than their motel room, but its only equipment was a dirty single mattress in one of the corners. There was no window in the metal walls; the dusty lamp overhead bathed the room in bleak, yellow light. As Daryl looked around, he noticed no camera or other kind of spying equipment. Good, that meant they could feel more or less at ease.
Having no better option, he sat on the mattress and waited. For yet another time he wondered what had gotten into him to go for such madness. Intellectually he knew that it was foolish and he was risking his life needlessly. But he had a deep inside feeling that he had done the right thing and not even now did he regret it. It wasn't like he planned it. It was an idea that had occurred to him this morning and since that moment he simply knew he would follow it.
He didn't wait long. Perhaps half an hour later the door slid open and Guy was pushed inside by some bulky gangster. Daryl leapt up on impulse, filled with stupid joy that his protégé was with him again – an in one piece.
"Well?" he asked, lowering his voice just in case. "Everything alright?"
Guy's eyes slid around the room distrustfully, finally meeting Daryl's gaze. The dealer nodded slightly, giving him a silent sign that it was okay to speak. Probably.
"Yeah, it's alright," the mongrel answered vaguely. But for Daryl it was enough. Things went well, no one noticed anything. He breathed with relief.
A few hours before they had set off from the motel, he had removed the stitches. With this amount of the accelerator they had applied to the cut, it had healed over in one day, but naturally it still looked fresh. Too fresh for the two-week-old cut. On the other hand, it was highly unlikely Guy would be handled by an expert medic who could assess the wound's age just by looking at it, and in the end, it was also unlikely that they would be looking. In any case Guy was supposed to play the part of completely unaware of what they wanted from him. It looked like the pretense worked.
"They asked me questions," Guy went on. "About Katze and what he wants from me. I told them."
Daryl nodded, acknowledging the fact. That was also in the plan. It was clear that once the Crimelord found out that his own men were kidnapped, he'd be asking questions. So they had made up a story about gang wars and some old grudges. It was better to give Moreno this tale than tell him that he was messing up with the planet's highest echelon – which could put him in needless alert.
"Daryl..." Guy said, taking two steps towards him. His voice was different now, softer, quieter, almost a whisper. "I suppose I should be angry at you. You lied to me out there, you endangered the whole thing. But I..." he shook his head and suddenly, to Daryl's total surprise, with one last step he closed the space between them and threw his arms around Daryl's neck. "No one ever risked so much for me," he murmured into the dealer's shirt. "I don't even know what to say."
Dumbfounded by this sudden outburst, in the first moment Daryl wanted to escape the embrace. Then the realization sank in – no one ever risked so much for me – and he let his arms rise and awkwardly placed them on Guy's back. The mongrel held him so tightly that it almost choked him.
"Ehm..." He cleared his throat. "You're welcome."
He was feeling silly.
Having anaesthetized their captives again, and neatly secured them in the car's trunk, they returned to the motel for the last time. Everything was buttoned up. They had an appointment with the Special Unit from Tanagura at six. Which meant that they had more than two hours to rest, eat, pack their belongings and check out.
After a meal in the motel bar, they came back upstairs and started to bustle around the room, preparing to depart. Raoul decided to restore some of his Blondie image – he was going to meet people from Tanagura, after all. The Special Unit was commanded by a Blondie, it was crucial to stay in authority. He took a bath, even though he had taken one in the morning. He made Katze scratch his skin thoroughly to clean all the dirt – real or imaginary. The redhead only rolled his eyes exasperatedly, but other than that, refrained from comments. With certain regret Raoul left his hair loose, but most of all he needed fresh clothes. He hadn't taken any elite garments with him – who could have guessed their trip to the deserts would find such a final – but clean Midas clothes could do. Actually, he was starting to like them, so he didn't really mind if his fellow Blondie or any other Tanagura elite would see him like that, as long as they were immaculate.
That was where he came upon a problem. Digging through his bag he discovered that he had no fresh shirts left. There were two more pairs of pants and one clean jacket – desert heat didn't encourage wearing jackets – but as for shirts, there were none.
"Katze," he called with an offended surprise, "I've run out of clean shirts."
The dealer, who was swiftly moving around, doing who-knows-what looked at him over his shoulder.
"Oh?" he said unimpressed.
This was not what Raoul expected. He waited for something more, but it didn't look like Katze was going to expand his laconic reply.
"Well?" he prompted.
"Well what?"
"Didn't you do laundry or something?"
"No, I didn't do laundry or something. I didn't have a need. I don't change clothes twice a day, like you."
"Well, but I... you could ask if I had a need. Or check it."
Katze's brows rose. "So, you thought I would do your laundry."
The dealer's words made Raoul stop in his tracks and consider it. No, he hadn't thought Katze would do his laundry. It was so obvious to him that he hadn't given it even a single thought. He was a Blondie and he did expect to be served... although now, suddenly, it didn't feel so right anymore – not after what had happened today, and yesterday. Not after what they had said to each other. It didn't feel right to think that he needed a babysitter, either.
Still, to think about it, Katze should know Raoul expected him to do things like that... he had to know. The dealer's surprise was feigned. That red-haired bastard was teasing him! And the impish glow Raoul suddenly noticed in the amber eyes only confirmed that.
"Katze," the biologist stated with absolute certainty, "you did it on purpose."
Katze shrugged. "You didn't ask me, or order me. And since you wanted a taste of a real life, I figured you should be aware of the things that come along." To his words, he added a sweet, completely not Katze-like, smile.
The straightforward, very honest answer made Raoul speechless.
"Well, Blondie," the dealer added, "you do have one more shirt you didn't wear."
At the first instant Raoul didn't understand. At the next... "No way!"
Katze's mouth twisted in a wicked half-grin. "This, or you will be dirty and stinking."
"You can lend me one of yours."
"I don't have any clean ones either. This one," he pointed at his chest, seeming immensely pleased with himself, "is the last, and I've been wearing it since yesterday."
Raoul gritted his teeth. What a coincidence. Of course it could be a lie, but he wasn't going to lower himself to checking Katze's bag. Too annoyed to say anything, he just turned to his own luggage and rummaged through the mess inside. There, at the very bottom, still in a plastic wrap, lay the offending garment. He had noticed it the first morning after they had left Tanagura. Katze must have somehow talked Reo into putting it there. Up until now he had been flatly ignoring it. Now, he got it out and examined the big orange inscription critically. 'Fuck the system.' He bit his lip. They were meeting with Tanagura Special Force unit at 6 o'clock. At this time of a day it wasn't hot anymore and he could easily hide the vulgar writing under the moderate and even quite graceful jacket. I.e. he could wear this shirt without ruining his reputation. Wearing the jacket without anything underneath seemed perversely weird.
With a sigh, he tore the wrap.
"You are a very mean man, Katze," he said.
Katze said nothing, just chuckled. When the Blondie pulled the fabric over his head and straightened the shirt on his chest, the bastard cast him a glance.
"The orange matches your hair," he commented with a smile than went back to whatever he was doing.
Katze. The Crimelord swore eloquently when the face and the name showed up on the screen. How could he be so stupid as to not recognize the man right away? The name and the face had been making him restless since his phone talk with the redhead.
Now when he was looking at the picture on the screen it seemed obvious. Katze of Tanagura, the leader of the capital's black market. Famous in the underground world for his hacking skills and business craftiness. Of course scanning the net for the man would prove completely fruitless, but Luis Moreno held his own data on possible business partners, or opponents. Katze was one of the most prominent people on the list. The data in the file was scant, gave him almost no information, which was highly displeasing.
"What do we know about him?" he asked his people gathered around him in the terminal room.
"He is quite powerful," one of them offered. "His main business is smuggling and illegal trade, not drugs. When it comes to drugs, he does rather soft stuff, and it's further down on his list."
"Figures, that's why we've never had business with him. So what is he smuggling if not drugs?"
"All kinds of goods. Weapons, computer equipment, medicines, smokes. Food and clothes as well." The mention of the last two items evoked quiet chuckling among the men. "And – most importantly – people. Pets."
"Right. He is from Tanagura, that place feeds on those cloned idiots."
"There's also a gossip that he hangs with the elites, which would explain how he gets his commodity."
"Not just with the elites," another of his men added, "they say he had business with the Syndicate leader himself. What was his name... Iason Ferret or something."
"Iason Mink, you dumbass. But Mink is dead. He was killed a few months ago, now there's another guy on his place."
"Well, then perhaps he has business with this other guy as well."
The last few sentences struck another nerve in the Crimelord's mind, and suddenly a few facts connected. Firstly, when his son called him a week ago from the police station in Nyccoss, he mentioned something about a Blondie from Tanagura claiming Guy. Back then he had ignored it because it seemed impossible that a Tanagura Blondie would want something from a Nyccoss slum kid. Secondly, when Tico described to him the guys who were asking about him in the bar, he mentioned the redhead, and another one – a big blonde. That too seemed highly unlikely under normal circumstances, but what if...
"Fuck," he muttered under his breath. It was possible that he'd stepped on the toes of some really big shot; that was never good news. "What's that new Blondie's name?" he asked his people.
He was answered by a disconcerted silence. Nobody knew. After a moment one of the voices suggested timidly:
"Check it in the net, boss."
Luis Moreno swore at the ignorance of his crew and opened the search engine. It took him just a moment to find that the new guy's name was Raoul Am. The browser positively exploded with news and pictures of an extremely attractive male with long, blond, wavy hair. Some of them linked to serious sources, some others to the many gossip portals. But the Crimelord didn't pay attention to any of that, it was completely stolen by something else.
"Just take a look at that," someone murmured behind his back.
"Someone still has any doubts?" Another voice.
On three pictures out of twelve that fit one page Raoul Am was captured with a tall redhead, who – even though usually hidden in the shadows, or turned away – undoubtedly was Katze.
Dammit to hell, they definitely stepped on the toes of a big shot and the Crimelord reluctantly rephrased his vengeance promise from before: No one messed with the Crimelord. Unless he was the first Tanagura Blondie himself. And with him the Crimelord wouldn't dare to mess.
In the emptiness of the desert, a sudden multitude of vehicles and people stood out like a sore thumb. Looking through the front window of the car as they were approaching the gathering, Raoul assessed that the number of men exceeded fifty, and the vehicles could create a sizeable column. There were two big air-buses that were typically used to transport big shots and military units; four smaller, but decidedly more armoured crafts that looked like mobile prisons and that's probably what they were, and four small gliders, which – Raoul guessed – would be their airforce during the siege.
"Well, well," Katze commented from behind the wheel, "Momma Jupiter didn't fail her best son."
They joined the party a few seconds later. A big, towering Blondie came to greet them when they came to a stop. Three other elites – a Ruby and two Jades, probably his field commanders, kept themselves a few steps behind him.
"Commander Edgar Gorr, the head of Tanagura defence and military forces," Raoul murmured to Katze, before they left the car. The redhead just nodded his head in acknowledgement. He pressed the button opening the doors and they got out.
It was pleasantly cool outside. Even though the day was still bright, the change of light clearly announced the upcoming evening. Raoul was glad, the jacket he had donned over the awful shirt was perfectly excusable.
"Raoul." Edgar's shapely lips twisted in a delicate smile.
"Edgar," Raoul nodded. "Gentlemen," he turned his nod to the other elites, who answered with silent, slightly deeper nods.
"I hear you are now running around, playing a bounty hunter," the commander offered, pulling the Blondie's attention back to himself. "And just look at you! What are you wearing?" He looked Raoul up and down meaningfully, raising his brow at the sight of the dusty sneakers.
Raoul decided not to comment it. In his private opinion, Gorr's fully elite outfit here in the deserts looked weird... and somehow stupid. But he wasn't going to delve into a verbal duel about clothes. He pointed at Katze with his chin.
"This is Katze, my assistant."
The smile was turned to the dealer. "Oh yes, the famous assistant, I heard about you too."
Katze bowed and kept his eyes low. "Sir Gorr."
Raoul didn't know Edgar Gorr too well, they had met a couple of times on various public occasions, but never exchanged more than a few words at a time. Nevertheless, they were not strangers to each other and Raoul knew that the commander was very competent in what he was doing. His sarcasm and subtle needles were, on the other hand, very typical for his, and Raoul's own kind, therefore there was no point in taking them personally. Especially that there was genuine, even if slightly ironic, recognition in the commander's tone when he spoke to Katze.
Gorr apparently figured that there was no room for personal remarks, as he got straight to the point.
"So what do we have?" he asked.
The biologist nodded at Katze and then at the trunk. They rounded the car and the redhead unlocked and lifted the lid. There, inside, lay their two unconscious captives.
"Well, well," Edgar Gorr commented.
"They should come round in about half an hour. We want to have them conscious during the exchange."
"Good point. Alright, here is what we'll do. First you go in and make the trade. We want to have your men safe and sound before we strike, otherwise Moreno might start panicking and something bad could happen. Of course, we'll cover you. Once you get your guys, get away from here, we don't want any risk for you, Raoul, and it won't exactly be safe around in the next few hours. Go straight to Tanagura, not waiting for the end of whatever it turns into. You'll get one of the tanks to transport the prisoner. That's all, the rest is up to us. Is that okay with you?"
Raoul shrugged and nodded. He had nothing to add, nothing to ask. Gorr was a very matter-of-fact man.
"Good. Now, Katze, you were supposed to get the plans of the Citadel. Do you have them?"
The dealer nodded as well and produced a miniature projector from his pocket. He slammed the trunk lid, locking its temporary inhabitants inside again, put the devise on top of it, and turned it on. In front of them appeared a hologramic, three-dimentional map of the Citadel. Gorr called for his second-in-commands with a wave of his hand.
"Gentlemen, come over here." And when the said elites stepped closer, he turned to Katze again. "Speak."
Katze gulped, clearly nervous in the face of the dignified audience, but managed to regain his cool countenance a second later. Raoul silently praised him for that.
"I suppose, what we are looking for is here, here and here," the dealer pointed at three long projections from the general round shape. "Underground corridors. His escape routes. As much as everyone knows the location of the main and side gates, no one is supposed to know about these."
Edgar pursed his lips, examining the map for another second.
"Perfect. Good job. I guess you deserve your reputation."
Katze dared to raise his slightly amused gaze at the commander. "I have a reputation among the elites?"
"You should know," the Blondie chuckled. "Alright then, we'll have to find and surround all the hidden entrances." He grabbed the projector noncommittally, shutting down the image. "I am taking this. We'll need the current insight in the plans. You'll get your gadget back later." He turned to his men. "Let's get to work!"
An abrupt beeping sound that came from the terminal put everyone in the room on alert.
"What is it?" the Crimelord asked sharply.
"Checking." Ross, the onboard computer expert, was already in the process of leaping to the terminal. For a silent, tensed moment he was clicking at the keyboard, muttering something under his breath. Then he sat down and swore.
"What is it?" the Crimelord repeated.
"I scanned the disc we took out from that brat's arm, like you ordered, boss. It looks like all the contents were in use yesterday a few minutes past ten."
Slowly, Luis Moreno got up from his chair, feeling his guts twist. The men that stood around him suddenly found themselves in the far corner of the room – very reasonably, he had to give them that.
"What?" his voice came out as a low, menacing growl.
Ross swallowed, burying his head in his shoulders. "I'm just telling you what the program tells me, boss,"
"It's impossible. It had been sewn into him for two weeks. There's no way anyone could use it."
Ross just shrugged helplessly. "I checked it. There's no mistake. The files were used. Namely, copied."
Luis Moreno froze, towering over the unfortunate technician. The explanation – although extremely undesirable – presented itself very clearly. Even before, during the hurried surgery, the condition of the barely healed gash on Guy's forearm attracted his attention. It looked fresh. Too fresh for a two-week-old wound. The medic, when asked, just shrugged and said that it is pretty possible for a wound of this age to look like that, assuming that the person heals slowly and doesn't use any accelerating salves. So the Crimelord had accepted it, telling himself that he was getting paranoid.
And there was a very good reason to be paranoid. The contents of the drive, when they read it, contained the very quintessence of his crime – the proof of it. It could put him, and all his people, straight in jail. Wrong – it could quite literally become the death of him. It had been a great relief that he'd managed to get his hands on this fucking disc. Regardless of all the shit that followed – the fact that he'd fell into that stupid trap and all – he considered it his victory. The threat had been averted, the Crimelord's kingdom was safe.
Now this blissful solace shattered into pieces in one damned instant, replaced by a dreadful realization. He had been set up. It had been a set up from the beginning. If the data had been copied, it meant that they got into the wrong hands. And fuck if he didn't know whose hands they were.
"Fuck!" he screamed, and not trying to stop himself, hit the console full-force. The pain that burst in his hand only helped to trigger his aggression. "Fuck, fuck, fuck! That fuckin' sunnovabitch! I'm gonna kill him!"
"What's going on, boss?" someone asked dumbly.
"Don't you get it?" Moreno shrieked frantically, turning to the group squeezed in the room's corner. "They are working together! Guy and his fuckin' watchdog of his with Katze and his Blondie pal. If Guy took out and copied the disc, guess who has the files now. The first fucking Blondie of Tanagura! The only fuckin' person I can't screw with. The fucking most important guy on the whole planet has a load boat of proofs against me in his fuckin' grasp!"
His people stood frozen in place, faces twisted in horror. The Crimelord's mind was working desperately, and came out with one dreadful conclusion. If this Katze individual and his Blondie were here now, it was highly possible that there was something big in store for him and his people. Soon.
"Ross," he turned to the computer guy again, "scan the surroundings. I have a feeling that we're not alone."
Ross immediately followed the order, hands slightly shaking, face pale and beaded with drops of sweat. After a moment he heaved a quiet sigh. "The cameras show nothing, the area is clean."
"They could hide. There are many ways you can hide in the desert. Switch to thermovision."
Another set of clicking. And then a sharp intake of breath. Looking at the screen over Ross's shoulder, the Crimelord saw exactly what caused that. And swore for the hundredth time this day.
"Fuck! Fuck to hell. We are screwed!"
It was a big group. They were close, maybe half a mile away. The fact that they didn't show on the cameras spoke for itself. The Crimelord let out a frustrated growl and grabbed his head, feeling like pulling his hair out. As much as he hated to admit it, there was only one way to save their asses when a big Blondie was coming: run! It was the only reasonable conclusion. Junior and Mane were in those bastards' hands, but he would be an idiot if he believed that he would get them back if he asked nicely. No, there was no way to get his son back now. But – the Crimelord gritted his teeth with sadistic satisfaction – if that was so, there was also no point in keeping his prisoners alive. If the great Crimelord was going to fall, at least he would take down those two little shits with him.
"Shiro," he turned to one of his people, "turn on the evacuation alarm. We abandon ship. Right now! And you, Josf, fetch me Guy and this other idiot. They're gonna pay for screwing me over."
Katze inhaled the smoke of his cigarette, sitting in the car and watching Tanagura Special Force unit in their last preparations for the strike. The Citadel loomed huge and bleak before them, less than half a mile away. It was a strange feeling to stand like that in an open field, while they should be hidden. In fact they were completely invisible thanks to the hologram screen that conveniently produced a picture of an empty desert to the eyes of everyone who stood on its other side.
They had gotten in the proximity of the Citadel by cars the team had brought with them in the air-buses. The soldiers were bustling about, regrouping and discussing the strategy, Raoul took care of bringing round their captives, while Katze could use a moment to relax, forgotten in a general commotion.
He was taking the last drags of his cigarette when a man sitting two cars away over some equipment suddenly raised his head and said loudly enough for Katze to hear him:
"Sir, something's going on inside the Citadel. They turned on the alarm for the whole building."
Immediately the general commotion changed its focus and a few people jumped to the soldier and hang over the equipment, studying it and exchanging some comments. On reflex, Katze got out of the car and came over as well. The Blondie Edgar Gorr was one of the men gathered around, and it was he who voiced the inevitable conclusion.
"We must have been spotted."
Katze was holding Junior's phone in his hand before he fully thought about it.
"I'll check it," he heard himself saying, while his fingers were already choosing the number. He didn't wait long, barely a second. And when the phone was picked up on the other side, a flood of hasty, furious words sounded from the speaker, never giving him a chance to open his mouth.
"Listen to me, you sunnovabitch, if you think you won, you are very wrong. I know all about your little plan, and I assure you, you won't get me that easily. It's not over yet. And as for Guy and that other minion of yours, they are as good as dead. And be sure about one thing: I'll make their death very painful."
Katze punched the disconnect button without uttering a single word. He suddenly had bile in his throat. He looked at Gorr, hoping his frustration didn't show on his face. The Blondie and all the others were staring at him. They'd heard the conversation – the phone was switched to loudspeaker mode. The conclusion was obvious and only one.
"Forget about the trade," the commander said. "We go in. Right now."
The alarm literally burst out in the cell, along with a sudden disruption of light. The lamp started blinking, turning on and off by turns, immersing the room alternately in light and darkness.
They leapt up from the mattress startled with the commotion.
"What's happening?" Guy cried out over the siren wailing.
"Something's wrong. It wasn't in the plans."
From the corridor outside came the noise of loud voices and quick steps – people running, calling each other, alarmed. Something was definitely very wrong. Guy and Daryl glanced at each other.
"They guessed it's a setup," they screamed at the same time.
"Shit!" Guy added.
Daryl was thinking frantically. If it was what it seemed to be, they were in serious danger. If Raoul's forces were discovered before the exchange, the Crimelord had to know they had something on him... something like a proof of his guilt copied from a portable drive. And that meant that the trade was cancelled and keeping his prisoners in one piece didn't matter anyway. Hurting them, on the other hand, would be at least an ugly act of spite towards his pursuers. Which the Crimelord was very prone to.
"To the door, quickly," he commanded.
Guy didn't need to be told twice, he understood the between-the-lines meaning perfectly. They jumped to the wall, plastering themselves to the metal concrete on both sides of the door.
"What if they're Katze's men?" the mongrel asked, lowering his voice to almost a whisper. "How can we tell?"
"I doubt Katze's men would get into this fortress so easily."
They stood in silence for perhaps another minute, until one of the running steps outside stopped exactly in front of their cell. Daryl tensed his muscles, preparing to attack. He wanted his gun. Oh, how he missed its hard, comforting shape in his hands. The door slid open, a man stepped in, and Daryl jumped.
It was over within a fraction of a second. The guy fell down to the ground unconscious the moment Daryl's feet connected with the floor again.
"Wow," said Guy, who still stood in the same place. He didn't even have a time to make a move.
The unconscious goon was still holding a gun. Daryl snatched it from the limp hand. They looked at each other with Guy. The door stood open, they were free to go, no one would stop them.
"Wait!" Daryl said, taken by a sudden impulse. He pushed himself on the younger man, pressing him to the wall with an elbow, and reaching to his pocket with his other hand. He tried not to think what he was doing, but he had a strange feeling that the idea that had just popped up in his head had lurked there since... when? the moment the alarm sounded? this morning? last night?
Guy stared at him with wide eyes, not getting it. Daryl produced a small chip from his jeans and with one swift move pressed it to the mongrel's neck... to the collar. It clicked and opened. Guy inhaled loudly, while the furniture ripped the device off his neck and tossed it away.
"What...?"
"Now we can run." Daryl grabbed Guy by his hand and pulled him along. They got out to the corridor and looked around. The alarm was much louder here. At the moment there was no one in sight.
After a momentary consideration Daryl made a decision.
"This way!" He broke into run again, heading in the opposite direction they had walked him from. If he came in through the main gate, the other way led away from it, and that was his goal. There was a good chance that the major commotion broke out around the main gate. There was a good chance that the main force of the siege was there. And that was exactly what Daryl wanted to avoid. On the other hand, he knew that the Citadel had at least three other gates and some escape routes. There was also a chance that they would find their way to one of them... and maybe, by some miracle, it won't be surrounded.
"You got totally out of your mind!" Guy screamed from behind. "What the hell are you doing?"
"Oh, just shut up! You wanna live or not?"
"I mean it! You know what they'll do to you when they catch us?"
Daryl didn't want to listen to it. He didn't want to listen to his own reason. He just knew one thing: since no one would give them into Katze and Raoul's hands, since they had gotten out of their cell, he was not going to sit and wait for their fate to come. They had the only chance to safe Guy's life – and he was going to take it.
Within the next two minutes they passed two or three groups of men running in the opposite direction or crossing their path from another metal alley. No one paid them any attention. Clear evidence that in the general commotion they were all but forgotten. The corridors were dark here. They made turns, blindly. Daryl had seen the Citadel's plan in passing this morning, but it was hard to say that he remembered anything from it. Thus he was pretty taken aback when at some moment a huge double door literally rose in the end of the corridor, deadending it. He skidded to a halt, feeling his heart pounding in his chest. Guy came to a stop next to him.
"There!" the prisoner panted, pointing at the port on the wall, a few steps away from the door.
Daryl got to it within an instant, and tried the simplest option – pressed the big red button in its center. Opening the gates from the inside couldn't be hard; after all it was the outside that needed to be armoured. Still, he was surprised when the gate clanged and started to slide open, letting in the bright light of the late day. It worked!
Daryl met Guy's gaze. For a moment they just stood there, frozen, speechless, overwhelmed by the same feeling: it was really happening, they could escape! The dealer grabbed Guy's hand again.
"Let's go!"
They started to run, trying to cover those last few steps as quickly as possible, wanting to grab their freedom before anyone could take it away. They got through the line where the sunlight bent into the tunnel overcoming the shadow, and some two more steps before they were fully outside... and that was when they saw them.
Guy moved so quickly then that Daryl never saw it coming. He halted, pulling the furniture back to himself and in the same move snatching the gun from his hand. He put his arm around Daryl's neck and pressed a barrel to his temple. It all lasted just a blink of an eye. Later on Daryl many times wondered how he could be so much faster than Guy defeating the man in their cell, and so much slower in what happened at the gate.
"One move and I'll kill him!" the mongrel screamed at the men that surrounded the entrance.
There was about a dozen of them. Of all bad luck – Katze and Raoul shared their numbers, sitting in a roofless car slightly behind the main line. The soldiers were heavily armed and aiming straight at them... at Guy. Daryl closed his eyes and swallowed with a bitter feeling. Just to think that he risked so much for that treacherous little scum.
"You make one move and you'll see how professionals do it," one of the men, probably the leader, countered. Guy shuffled his feet nervously. "You have no chance, Guy. Give up, don't make trouble."
And before Daryl could think, before he could try to grab and twist the arm that held him, that arm was gone. He was free. Behind him, Guy threw the gun to the desert sand and held his hands up.
"Alright, alright, don't shoot! I give up."
Just like that, so easily. Without hesitation, without trying to haggle, without even momentary consideration. It wasn't the way a desperate man would typically act in this kind of situation. It was more like...
Daryl caught his breath sharply when he understood.