Page 57 of V-Day
Collins shook his head. “Forget I said it,” he said gruffly and yanked at the knot of his tie. “I need to get out of here,” he added.
“I’ll see if there’s news about the drone,” Rosa said.
“Never mind,” Collins said, getting to his feet. “I’ll find out myself. It’ll give me something to do.”
*
IF HE HAD THE TIMEto spare to indulge in sentimental thinking, Nick would have laughed about his mode of entry into the Palace. After watching the building and the perimeter from the hills behind the grounds, he had determined the weak point and the best way in was to climb the decorative cinderblock wall which capped the end of the verandahs on the north side of the building. The north end was farthest from the admin offices and the president’s suite, at the south end.
It was an ironic decision, for Calli had used that same wall, just before the war had broken out, to come and find him in his quarters.
Nick had double-checked his decision, knowing the personal connection to the route might influence him to make the choice when a better one was available. Stringent reasoning determined that no, this was the best way. It was risky, especially in broad daylight, only he couldn’t afford to wait any longer.
He worked his way down the hill and onto the grounds, moving through the fencing with the help of the small wire cutters he’d brought along just for this moment.
There were only five cars sitting on the concrete behind the Palace. They all had bullet holes and scrapes and dents. Nick picked the lock on the trunk of the faded green Ford and stuffed the wire cutters and his pack inside and locked it.
Another short reconnaissance, then he eased across to the north end of the Palace itself and floated down the side of the building to where the cinder blocks began.
A glance around for observers. Nothing. He shook his head. It was pitiful. Was Serrano so short of men, he couldn’t afford to put two of them on this end of the house? Or had he really thrown everything he had at the triumvirate of armies marching toward the city?
It was Nick’s lucky break, either way.
He slid his fingers through the sharp-tipped petal-shaped opening in the cinder block and climbed.
When his feet were level with the foot-wide stone balcony rail of the second floor, he checked along the verandah. It was empty. The doors to the rooms along the verandah were all closed. So were the windows. He stepped onto the balcony rail, then jumped lightly onto the verandah itself and took out his knife.
He eased along the verandah, trying to make it look as though he belonged there, in case anyone in the admin building at the front of the grounds happened to look through a window and notice him. At the edge of the tree line behind the Palace, he had changed into gray fatigues from the green camouflage he had been wearing while moving south to the city. From a distance, the fatigues might be taken for the ugly new Insurrecto uniforms. At the very least, he wasn’t wearing a dark green uniform which screamed Loyalist. Any Insurrectos he ran into would hesitate for a split second, if they saw gray.
A second was all he needed.
The door to one of the rooms opened inward and an Insurrecto officer stepped out. He nodded at Nick automatically as he turned to head down the verandah in the same direction as Nick was moving. Then he jerked his head back, his eyes narrowing. His hand flashed to the holster on his hip.
Nick leapt at him. He gripped the man’s chin with his free hand and sliced with the other.
The man gurgled and croaked as Nick hauled him backward into the room from where he’d just emerged. He dumped him on the carpet and wiped off his knife and shut the door, staying inside.
He looked around. “Son of a bitch,” he muttered, as he spotted the little carriage clock on the shelf over the desk, ticking off the minutes with a hypnotic spinning of the circular pendulum beneath.
This was his room.
He looked down at the dead body, eyeballing the man’s length with his gaze.
Then he got to work, the mental clock in his head ticking louder than the little golden globe on the shelf.
