Page 94 of Devil's Due

Jazz and Ben met her on the seventh floor landing, and Jazz had the handcuff keys out. She spun Lucia around and worked the lock, and Lucia, panting, said, “What the hell happened?”

“Complicated,” Jazz said briefly.

“Jazz got the handcuff key and Taser out of your purse, opened her cuffs and took out the guards,” Ben said.

“Okay, not so complicated.” The handcuffs clicked free. “Simms is here.”

“Yes. I saw him.”

“EMP go off?”

“Their servers are completely dark. If Manny has managed to take down the backups—”

“He will.” Jazz looked vivid with the excitement of the chase, green eyes gleaming. “All of them. Cross Society servers, too.”

“What?”

“I talked Borden into it,” she said. “We tracked the system through Gabriel, Pike & Laskins, and found their server nodes. Manny’s working on it. By the time this is over, both sides should be down for the count.”

“Except for the psychics.”

“Yeah, well. Beyond going on a killing spree—which I’m not in favor of for once—I don’t see a way around that.”

“Maybe it doesn’t matter,” Ben said. Lucia pulled out her gun and checked the clip. “Simms said that their psychics are specific in their predictions. Maybe they can still help people. It’s when it gets to be a strategy that things go to hell.”

“You know what? Not my problem.” Jazz looked at each of them in turn. “You good to go?”

“Yes. Where?” Lucia asked.

“Roof. Kavanaugh’s got a nifty black helicopter.”

They took the stairs at a run.

Kavanaugh was already on board, and the rotors were turning, when they banged through the exit. Lucia’s feet slid on gravel as she stopped. Kavanaugh was facing them, and his eyes widened. He said something into a headphone.

“Uh-oh,” Jazz said. “That’s not good.”

Max Simms was in the helicopter, too. Handcuffed.

“Oh,dammit!” Lucia took aim, but the chopper was moving and the shot was risky; with Simms in the aircraft any shot she could make would be potentially lethal. She let her gun fall back to her side.

Simms was watching her with those wide, cold blue eyes. Smiling in that creepy, secretive way. Lucia felt McCarthy’s hand on her shoulder, urging her back to the cover of the concrete wall. “Guards could be coming!” he yelled over the chop of the rotors. The helicopter was ten feet up, and rising. “This is done—we can’t do anything. Let’s go!”

There was a flutter of color on the gravel, something red, half buried under a handful of rocks. Lucia ran for it, grabbed it, and made it back to the safety of the wall as the helicopter gracefully spun in the air, preparing to head out. It exploded.

The concussion hit with a wave of pressure that triggered Lucia to involuntarily cover her head and close her eyes, and then the unbelievably loud roar of the explosion rolled over them.

She forced her eyes open and saw the blackened shell of the helicopter heading back to the roof at terminal velocity.

“Run!” she screamed, and pushed the other two ahead of her.

They made it to the back of the roof just as the wreck crashed in a fireball, sending blazing fragments spinning. Rotors broke loose and pinwheeled wildly. Lucia went flat, taking Ben and Jazz with her, while metal hissed overhead. Some of it embedded itself in the low wall at the edge of the roof, as if a nail bomb had gone off.

She felt heat on her back, then slaps. She was on fire. She rolled and stripped off the blue-and-white-checked shirt. Jazz was slowly getting to her feet, staring at the inferno that was melting the tar around it in into a hissing pool.

“Holy Christ,” she said. “Two psychics, and they didn’t see that coming?” She holstered her gun and held out a hand to Lucia, but Ben was ahead of her, a strong presence lifting her upright.

He had a long bloody cut on one cheek that would need stitches. Other than that, none of them was harmed.

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