Brother to Dragons, Companion to Owls - Jane Lindskold [43]
“No?” Grey Brother weighs and dismisses this. “So, you gotta have a pass. Open the door for us and draw us a map. We’ll go from there.”
“Pass? Sure, but it’s only good if the security computer clears it and at this hour they won’t clear me without some personnel checking.” Jerome chuckles without humor. “They’re always worried about the staff stealing from the place.”
The gathered Pack members mutter angrily, nervously.
“Shit!” Grey Brother says, flipping open his knife. “You’re no good to us.”
I stand and spread my arms, interposing myself between Jerome and the angry youth. Words are not necessary and I stare, willing him to remember me as one of Head Wolf’s favorites.
Whether he does or not, he steps back and the knife vanishes up his sleeve.
“Sarah, I won’t hurt him—now—but what are we going to do about getting to Head Wolf?”
I meet the orange eyes. “The next way home’s the farthest way about.”
He studies me. The room becomes so quiet that I can hear Abalone and Professor Isabella coming in past Edelweiss. I don’t look to them—this must be my victory or Grey Brother will never treat me as an equal.
After what seems too long, the leader says, “You’re offering to get us in there? Do you really remember the place?”
I laugh. “The very remembrance of my former misfortune proves a new one to me.”
“I’ll take that as ‘yes,’” Grey Brother decides. “Abalone, you’re with us on this?”
“If you promise not to harm Jerome,” she says. “I can get you through the security, better than he could.”
Grey Brother stares at her. “He’s seen us.”
“Doesn’t matter. If we get Head Wolf away, they’ll never find us. If we don’t, what he knows can’t hurt us any worse.”
Again he nods. “He can wait the night here and go free in the morning.”
“Let me call my wife!” Jerome cuts in. “She’ll worry herself sick.”
Something melts the hard lines of Grey Brother’s face. “She will? Then we’ll get you home. Bumblebee, Tapestry, when we’ve been away an hour, escort the man home.”
Jerome’s eyes widen with surprise. “I’ll keep quiet, brother. I don’t want to get involved with this. Some of those doctors ask questions in ways I don’t want to try. Just let me go home.”
He whispers softly, so only I can hear, “Take care, Sarah. I don’t know who scares me more—your friends or your enemies.”
An hour or so later, we are ready to go. Abalone has learned that Head Wolf is being held in a maximum security area on the tenth floor. The plan she and Grey Brother evolve involves various feints to draw attention away from our goal.
“They must be tightly timed,” Abalone cautions, “or we’ll be dealing with the police, too. I will reroute what backup calls I can, but I may miss some.”
Grey Brother briefs his various teams, then turns away without another glance for them. He has insisted on heading the group that will break into Head Wolf’s cell. He has insisted equally strongly that Abalone remain outside.
“You don’t need to be inside,” he states flatly. “What you’re doing is too important to let you get flipped off by some stray shot. Sorry, Shellfish, you’re out.”
Abalone stares at him with such pure anger I fear that he will melt. Then she nods stiffly.
“Professor Isabella goes. She may be slow, but she knows the Home and she understands Sarah’s talk. You’ll need that, Grey Brother. Trust me.”
He agrees and so I find myself preparing to reenter the Home through an infrequently used fire port on the eighth floor. Our group is small: Grey Brother, Professor Isabella, me, and a member of the Four tagged Midline. Peep operates the hovercat, wafting us silently to the iris in the wall.
On cue, the iris cycles open when we pause. Faintly, we hear shouts and know that the first diversion has begun. Without a word, we move.
Midline goes first, a slender Oriental with unnaturally golden skin. He steadies himself with a lean, muscled arm, then he is gone into the corridor. When there is no alarm, we follow, Grey Brother courteously assisting Professor Isabella.