Page 84 of Warrior's Reign
“Team, retrieve one hostile for questioning at this location. Stealth mode.”
:ETA five minutess.:
Reign searched him while waiting, pulling a small can from the pack at her waist and sprayed her hands with a thin, colorless solution that hardened into a flexible film in ten seconds. She began ransacking the unit, though ransack was a messy word. Everything she picked up and examined, she put back in its exact place.
“Yo, Scooter,” a voice yelled through the door’s intercom. “Party’s goin’ down.”
Reign approached the door and released the manual lock. Icolo, in his pure human disguise, slipped inside and got to work.
“Good work,” Martha said, entering behind Icolo. Eye membranes blinking, she looked around the room.
“Yeah,” Reign said. “Too good.”
“You think iss set up?”
“Icolo’s pessimism is getting to me.”
“Realism,” Icolo said. “Anything easy is a trap.”
“Maybe this time we just got lucky. Sweep the unit. And make sure he checked in for the evening. On second thought, check in for the morning, too. I don’t want anyone to know he’s missing yet.”
“Thanks, mom.”
The shifter was glaring at Reign, not bothering to talk around the gag.
Reign crouched next to him. “The paralysis is temporary. We aren’t after you, you’re just a gig worker. We want information on Loka Vohn, and what he had to do with the bombing. You cooperate, we’ll let you go.”
Icolo finished his sweep and he and Martha crouched down, hefting the shifter’s arms over their shoulders and pulling him to his feet. He couldn’t walk, of course, but they were professionals, and burst into song as soon as they’d cleared the unit. The shifter looked like he was drunk. Reign pressed a tiny injector against his neck, giving him a little something to make him feel extra goofy. A smile spread across his mouth, a bit of drool driveling down his chin for effect. Gone was the venomous glare. If he’d had a tail, it would be wagging.
They retreated without incident to their secondary location, an office located in the basement of a ground level shopping market.
She pressed her palm against a hidden plate and the door panel slid open, revealing a set of stairs descending to the basement.
Her wrist unit pinged. Reign glanced at the identification code, and grimaced. “Accept comm, audio only.”
Martha and Icolo took the shifter to their soundproofed interrogation cubicle while Reign stayed behind at the console, making sure the tracker in her comm unit was still rerouting someplace innocuous.
:Obe’shan,: the curt tone of the rotation supervisor said. :Location.:
“Downtown, fourth quad.”
If they traced her unit, it would indeed show that location.
:That’s not your assigned—:
“Yeah, got it. Following up on a lead. I’ll log a report.”
A pause. :See that you do. I will inform First Adekhan Vykhan.:
“Yeah, snitch to my fiancée,” she muttered, but the comm was already cut off.
She had maybe twenty minutes before he pinged her personally, and an hour before he came looking.
Reign entered the interrogation cubicle. The refitted storage closet was tight, but there was room for five to six people. “You might have to finish this without me. Vickie will be on my ass in twenty.”
Martha hissed in sympathy, though a good deal of amusement underlay the tone. “Trouble in the marriage so soon?”
Reign gave her a sour look. “We aren’t married yet.” And even saying the word still sounded odd. She rubbed a hand over her face. Damn, her life was surreal these days.
