Page 262 of Golden Eagle

And the tinkling of broken glass.

She glanced toward the window.

It was a window went all the way down to the floor, frameless, and two hands clutched the edge: long, pale fingers, and black tape over the palms and knuckles, for stability and protection. The hands flexed, and then an arm reached in, another, and Kolya dragged himself up into the conference room, onto the floor, and unclipped the carabiner that had held his harness to the rope he’d used to rappel down.

Above him, shining faintly in the overhead lights, she glimpsed a bit of silvery cable, and a second later, Much came zip-lining in from the rooftop across the street – zip-liningfast.

Thethunkshe’d heard had been the end of his line – some complicated grappling-hook-cum-arrow device he’d shown them earlier – and a secondthunkwas the soles of his boots colliding with the remaining guard, and sending him toppling in an unconscious heap.

Trina crawled out from under the table and stood, gun ready. When she was upright, Much had dropped down off the line unslung the bow from his back: not a modern compound bow like her uncle used to deer hunt, but one made of gleaming, polished, flexible wood. Not a longbow, she knew, because that would have been nearly as tall as Much himself.

He knocked an arrow and gave them all a businesslike once-over. “Injuries?”

“Jamie.” Trina climbed onto the table and dropped down on the far side, kneeling beside him. “Jamie, you good?”

He was on his knees, clutching his arm; it hung limp at his side, but she could see that the bleeding had already slowed, and he glanced up at her with a lucid grimace of pain.

The miracles of vampire biology.

“Yeah, I’m alright.” When Trina put an arm around his waist, he stood on his own power, and didn’t even lean into her. “Shit, that hurts.”

“Getting shot usually does,” she said dryly.

“There’s too much shooting,” Much said. “Something’s wrong.”

Trina heard a rustle, and then a gasp.

With Jamie hurt and distracted, his compulsion had worn off – and maybe Dr. Fowler had been making a break for it, but wasn’t now; Kolya stood behind him, an arm around his throat, point of a knife indenting the skin below his eye.

“Call them off,” Trina said, motioning to the inner wall of the room, “and you can still walk out of here alive.” She wished, suddenly, that she’d set up a code word with Harvey, so she’d know when to “accidentally lose” the connection with the camera. Hoped, knowing how savvy she was, that she’d cut it on her own initiative when she realized Trina was about to commit murder on camera.

Then decided she didn’t care.

“Call them off,” she repeated. “Or he’ll throw you out that window.”

A breeze gusted in, accentuating her point.

Despite the knife against his face, Dr. Fowler grinned. “I can’t. Once you set them loose, you can’t call them back. That’s how thisworks.”

Trina stared at him. “What?”

Jamie gritted his teeth, and compelled again. “What are you talking about? Call off your little soldiers.”

“Icould. But they aren’t who you should be worried about.”

The hair on the back of Trina’s neck stood on end.

“Who?” Jamie demanded, the force of the word ringing out like a struck bell. Trina felt another wave of blankness, anxiety easing momentarily.

Kolya’s arm slackened; the knife pulled away from Dr. Fowler’s eye.

Placidly, Fowler said, “Romulus’s pets.”

Far away, deep on the other side of this floor, a sound echoed. A chainsaw, Trina thought, at first, its motor cranking up.

Mia stood, inhaling deeply. “Guys. I smell…”

Much’s eyes went wide. “Vampire.”

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