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.Overbite and the Old-Timer both held silenced Baikal IJ-70s at their sides, letting us know it could get nasty but they’d rather it didn’t.A lot of stuff flew through my mind in the five seconds we stood there, closer than football foes, sizing each other up.Some of it made no sense.Thoughts like, Damn, I think I forgot to pay my water bill! And, I’ll be so mad if I die before I’ve done the Indy Racing Experience.And, I’m glad I don’t have to pee right now.Like a tornado, it all whirled around a quiet eye, which clicked off the relevant thoughts rapidly, calmly, and without regard to the cows, minivans, and occasional tourists who flew past, trying to distract it from its vital business.They’ve come to take back the dog.But they shouldn’t even know Ziel’s here.We snuck him in through Admes’s tunnel.And the Monise showed us all the humans were in the kitchen when we brought him to the room.Or were they? Does Samos have an insider here we haven’t even met yet?I lowered my hands to my sides.That way, when it all went to crap, I could grab the bolo from my right pocket.And, with a twist of my left wrist, I could put Bergman’s latest invention to use.It was actually a new take on an old gadget he’d never quite perfected.The application fit my purposes nicely, however.So, hiding beneath my sleeve was a device that shot tiny rockets.Well, that’s what they looked like, though they didn’t burn when they released, and Bergman wouldn’t explain the technology that made them fly.He just said they somehow targeted what you were looking at, hit it, and then burrowed in.Once under the skin they released hundreds of miniature robots that went straight to the brain.At which point they exploded.Bergman noted that his original plan was to use the robots as tumor eaters.But apparently that required a lot more finesse than his little guys were capable of.Thus, the kaboom.Lucky for him, we in the CIA love the kaboom.“Who let you in?” I asked.“And does Samos force you to dress like the Lollipop Guild, or is it just instinct?”Ignoring my jibe, Blondie said, “We have people in all the major Trusts in Europe.Soon they will begin falling like dominos.” He looked at the ceiling, as if we’d stowed the mutt in the crawl space, and snapped, “Ziel, come.” No sound from the bedroom.I imagined the malamute crouching inside the tub, trying to figure out if there was a way for a four-legged dude with a hard head and a strong will to barricade the door.“Bring him to us,” said Blondie, “or we start carving up your friends.” He nodded to Mohawk, who pulled a bowie knife from a sheath at his belt as he strode forward to grab Dave.I didn’t even have to look at Vayl.Some things you just know.Like that he’ll always give you the last bite of his brownie.And he’ll never fail to defend the people you love.I fired my rocket at Blondie even as I charged their line.My idea was to surround myself with bad guys who would, no doubt, pummel me senseless within a matter of seconds.But at least they couldn’t shoot me.Not without hitting each other.Blondie dove to the floor.At the same time he yanked Overbite toward him, using him as a shield.The slug hit him in the shoulder, flipping him ninety degrees, at which point he smacked into the wall.I shot another missile at Old-Timer, who’d had the experience and presence of mind to stand still and target me.It hit him in the chest, throwing off his aim just enough that I heard the bullet split the air above my head.He sat down hard, pulling it out like some badass cowboy.The rip it left revealed the bulletproof vest he was wearing.Shit!Dave had disarmed Mohawk, whose right wrist dangled at such an odd angle I was sure it wouldn’t be working correctly for some weeks to come.They were fighting hand-to-hand.And it wasn’t pretty, like you see on TV.Mostly grunting and a few choice blows that landed with a sickening, flat sound that lets you know something underneath the skin is either broken or bleeding.Vayl filled the air with winter, making Samos’s gang groan, slowing their reflexes as they faced two people who were pretty much immune to vamp powers.But my boss didn’t move into the melee as I’d expected.Instead he disappeared into the bedroom.I didn’t have time to wonder about his plan.Because the hint of a blur out of the corner of my eye told me to duck.I heard the whir of a blade slice off a hunk of hair as Blondie followed through with a kick that caught me in the kidneys, knocking me into Old-Timer.Though my lower back felt like it had caved in, I made the move count, isolating his gun arm so I could grab, twist, and break [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]