Mystic Warrior. Alex Archer
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Saadiya Bhattacharjee’s British accent sounded unflappable. She’d been born to a Sikh family in Telangana, India, and had finished her education in crisis communication at Oxford. Sabre had hired her immediately when their paths crossed three years ago, headhunting her from other corporations by promising her a more exciting career than patching political careers and spin-doctoring bad products put out by corporations.
“I need you to interface with the local police,” Sabre said. “Let them know we’re on the job.”
“Copy that.”
“And don’t get shot.”
Saadiya laughed, then said, “Ta.”
Taking his smartphone from his tactical vest, Sabre pulled up the GPS locator he had that connected him to Krauzer’s position inside the building. All of his clients were programmed into his locator systems. He and Meszoly were only 179 meters out and closing fast. He broke into a run with Meszoly following behind and to the right so they’d both have established fields of fire.
* * *
ANNJA HEARD KRAUZER before she saw him. Orta followed in her wake, crouched as she was. When she reached the door, she stood and peered through the small window beside the closed entrance. Inside, the soft glow of a cell phone revealed where Krauzer was.
The director knelt under a computer desk in a dark room and spoke in a hoarse whisper that carried. “Sabre! Where are you? I’m in trouble!”
Annja tried the door but it was locked.
“Allow me.” Orta stepped forward. “Most of the classrooms on this floor open with the same key to facilitate matters.”
She stepped back and allowed the professor access to the door. He took a set of keys from his pocket and started sorting through them.
Keeping calm in spite of the tension that filled her, Annja divided her focus between the hallway and the shattered wall of windows. She’d noted the second helicopter circling the building, as well, and kept expecting one or the other to sweep in. She still didn’t know what the explosions outside the building had been about.
After succeeding in unlocking the door, Orta opened it and entered. The yellow rectangle of the hallway lights fell into the dark room. He started to reach for the lights but caught himself before Annja pointed out that wouldn’t be a good idea.
“What are you doing?” Krauzer glared up at them. “Get out of here! This is my hiding spot!”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Orta turned away from him and faced Annja.
“They’re after me.” Holding the crystal between his knees, Krauzer waved his free hand at Orta, keeping him away. “You’re leading them right to me.”
“They’re after all of us.”
“Really? Really? You’re here every day, so these guys just happen to show up tonight to get you and I’m unlucky enough to get caught in the middle of that? Do you even hear yourself?”
“They’re totally happy to kill all of us,” Orta stated. “They want the crystal.”
Krauzer wrapped his free arm around the crystal and turned his attention to the phone. “You need to get here. Now!”
“You know, if they get him, maybe they’ll leave us alone,” Orta said.
“Wait.” Krauzer wasted no time thinking about that. He grabbed hold of the desk and partially scuttled out from hiding. “You can’t just desert me. We need to stick together.”
Shaking his head, Orta looked back at Annja.
She slipped her miniflashlight from her backpack, switched it on and swept the high-intensity beam around the classroom. It was larger than she’d initially thought, actually built like a small auditorium with stadium seating. The only other door out of the room was on the same side of the wall.
Voices echoed outside in the hallway, and she knew they were out of running room.
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