“How much longer?” If Jake leaned forward any more, he’d be in the front seat and on Stumpy’s lap.
What was Lequire doing to her? What was the status of the baby?
He tried to focus on the situation outside of the vehicle, but panic had removed his ability to perform even a simple cognitive task.
He gritted his teeth as Stumpy typed on the laptop and Hunt drove. They needed to move faster, but even on a Sunday the congested Atlanta traffic was slowing things down. He pressed his fisted hand to his forehead, like he could physically hold back the virus. Even now, his muscles quivered as waves of directionless power flooded all the cells.
Actually, no. He had a perfect target for his virus to unleash every last ounce of fury. Soon.
Stumpy waved a hand. “If Hunt here could drive a straight line, I would be able to focus on the screen better.” A corner of his mouth lifted at the CO’s scowl. He typed again and hit enter. “Right. Her signal stopped there.”
“Where?” Jake snapped.
Hunt maneuvered through another slowdown. Five fucking lanes per direction and the metro still couldn’t handle normal amounts of traffic.
“Hold on, I’m working as fast as I can.” Stumpy typed in coordinates and pulled up an address. “Well, that’s interesting. Her signal is coming from this very inconspicuous building in an office park. Property is owned by ‘FC Industries.’”
“Fallen Comrades,” Hunt said as he merged onto another highway.
Jake stared at the screen. “Office park?”
“One out of thousands around here.” Stumpy kept typing. “Probably has a name like ‘Horizon Center’ or ‘TechSide Business Park.’ They’re all basically the same idea: dead-end road with a turnaround, office buildings on either side and at the end. Sidewalks and green medians to make it seem more homey and less … business-y.”
“Don’t need a real estate tour,” Jake said. “Tell me how to get her out of there.”
Hunt spoke up. “Can you get schematics?”
“On it.”
Jake turned around. A second black SUV followed close behind. Gonzo, Rodeo, and Doc.
Doc. Jake’s heart pounded harder.
Stumpy scrolled through screens. “We’re five minutes away. By the time we pull behind the building, I’ll have plans, with options for ingress and egress, both conventional and unconventional.”
“Send the address to Gonzo,” Hunt said.
“Done.”
“Then pinpoint her location within the building and formulate a plan to knock out any security systems they might have.” Hunt navigated I-285 on the west side of Atlanta until he pulled off at the exit indicated by Stumpy. He met Jake’s eyes in the mirror. “We’ll get her out of there.”
“Not fast enough,” Jake spat.
“Understood.”
Three minutes later, both vehicles stopped behind an office building 150 yards away from their target structure. The weather had turned foul as cold drizzle plinked off the hood of the SUV. Faint noises of traffic going around the I-285 loop rumbled in the background and echoed off the numerous tall glass and metal nearby.
Leaping out of the vehicle, Jake was ready to sprint out of their surveillance hide, break through the steel and glass with his bare hands, and rip Kiera out of there. His hands shook as he gripped the edge of the hood, denting the metal.
Remaining in the front seat, Stumpy worked the computers and downloaded data. Electrical schematics, floor plans, and HVAC duct and shaft diagrams flashed across the screen.
Hunt stared at the building and paced, securing and re-securing his weapons in various holsters and pockets, stopping every few minutes to mutter a question to Stumpy. Each word was punctuated with a cloud of vapor.
Damned cold snap in March in Atlanta. The temperature had dropped below freezing, and tiny ice pellets tinkled on the vehicles and leaves. Worst-case weather scenario for a technical rescue.
Doc had the back of the other SUV open, double-checking neatly labeled packets of medications and instruments. His efficient movements were at odds with the tense set of his shoulders. Last time Jake had seen him working with that much tension was when Stumpy had lost his leg.
Any other time, Doc stayed loose and fluid whenever he worked. He was the calmest person Jake knew—at least in doctor mode. Soldier mode, the guy was terrifyingly efficient.
Doc kept glancing at the building as he rolled his neck and shoulders. Shit.
Gonzo and Rodeo crouched behind a low wall, motionless and monitoring the security of their current position. Wearing a helmet with night-vision gear in place of his cowboy hat, Rodeo stared at the building like he could bring it down with a single glare.
“Well?” Jake asked.
“Got her.” Stumpy clicked another few buttons. “Doc. Heart rate one hundred, oxygen level ninety-seven percent.” He studied the screen. “Seventh floor.”
“Out of?” Hunt asked.
“Ten.”
“How do we get there?” Hunt asked.
Rodeo sighted through his gun. “Front door? Or back door?”
“Neither.” Stumpy pointed at the screen. “I’m in their security feeds. There’s a large group of people on the first floor, concentrated near the exits.”
Jake whipped his head up and over. Too easy. Something didn’t feel right.
Hunt growled. “They waiting for us?”
“Logical,” Stumpy answered.
“It’s nice to be wanted.” Hunt’s smile twisted into a nasty scowl. “Weaknesses?”
Typing, Stumpy pulled at his goatee. “Nowhere to go but up.”
“Won’t they see us?” Jake asked. “With thermal imaging. Plain old security cameras. Human eyeballs?”
“Our tech is low viz, high stealth to obscure what the human eye sees,” Stumpy answered. “I can give their system something else to look at. Up it is.”
“Yeah!” Rodeo fished in the back of an SUV for a grappling hook gun.
Jake’s jaw dropped as he studied the ten-story metal and glass building. And the sleet. “No.”
“It’s got the least security coverage. Last place they’d expect an infiltration.”
“But they have security cameras and detectors up there,” Jake spat.
Stumpy nodded. “I can disable them. Actually, I could take out all of the cameras through the whole building, but it’ll be too obvious. They’ll know right away something’s coming. I have to be choosy about what live feed I deactivate and then play bland reruns.”
Jake stared at Stumpy. Bland reruns. Playing Lequire like Morpheus Squad had been played? Coincidence?
Hunt patted his vest. “Anything else?”
“Infiltrate via roof entrance, head down three flights of stairs, and take the fourth door on the right. I’ll update you when I know more about what’s there.” Stumpy leaned forward and scowled at the screen. “Hey, Doc. Her heart rate went up to 140 for almost a minute. It’s happened a few times now. Every two or three minutes, like clockwork.”
Doc’s quiet voice chilled Jake’s blood. “She’s in labor.”