Page 84 of Mongrels United
“The fun stuff, sure,” Jack said. “Now we’ve got hours of clean-up to do. You heard Rangi. We’ve got everyone who was in the lab, and I’ve got a pair of privates sitting on the man whose nose you broke, back there, and watching the body I dropped. That’s everyone accounted for.”
“I want to see the lab,” Nash said, his voice harsh with…what? Relief? Anxiety?
Grady rested her hand on his chest.
Jack shook her head. “All clear and contained doesn’t mean we’ve stripped the joint of boobytraps or flushed out all the hidden pockets. It just means we’ve got the upper hand for now.”
“I don’t care,” Nash said. “I’ll wait. We’ve got six hours.” Awkwardly, he lowered himself to the ground.
“You probably don’t want to wait there,” Jack said.
“Why not?” Nash demanded.
“Because in about three minutes, someone beneath you is going to pop the lid. I don’t know if this door rises, or swings up and back, but if it swings up and back, you’re likely to get a black eye out of it.”
Nash swore and got to his feet again.
* * * * *
Grady and Nash found a fallen tree branch, thick enough to sit upon, that was out of the way of Jack’s squad’s activities and stayed there for the next two hours. They didn’t say much but watched Jack’s people move with efficiency.
An hour after they had found the log to sit on, more Guards arrived in the clearing. Many of them. Some wore uniforms, some wore civilian clothing, but all of them held themselves as if they were on high alert. Jack had sent for help.
A great many of the Guards carried heavy bags, which they took down into the lab.
After two hours, Jack came to find them. She’d put her long rifle away, somewhere, but there was a black pistol strapped to her hip, positioned so she could snatch it at a second’s notice.
Grady shivered at the sight of it. She was never going to get used to seeing guns out in the open like this. They were tools designed for nothing but the death of another human being.
Nash looked up as Jack stopped in front of them. “There’s something you should see,” Jack told Nash. Her gaze flickered to Grady. “Both of you. This way.”
Grady helped Nash to his feet. His leg would have stiffened while they had been sitting still.
He nodded his thanks and limped over to the opening in front of the trapdoor. Metal stairs with heavy grating welded to them for traction climbed down to a well-lit corridor no wider than the stairs.
“It’s cramped around the stairs,” Jack said. “Designed that way, so one man can hold a troop off if he needs to. Hope you’re not claustrophobic.” She went down the stairs at a pace that was almost a run, not looking at where she placed her feet.
Grady followed Nash down. He pressed his hands on the walls on either side of the stairs, using them to help him step down on the wounded leg. There was no stair rail.
At the bottom, the corridor ran straight for another ten meters and stopped at a T junction. The intersecting corridor was much wider and, from here, looked better lit.
Jack moved to the T junction and swung right. Along this wider corridor, her squad and the other Bridge Guards were clearing out rooms which came off the corridor. It was noisy and smelly. Grady waved the air around in front of her nose.
“That stench is base chemicals,” Jack said. “When we busted in, one of the smarter lads poured the chemicals over everything he could reach before the Guards got him. Trying to break the evidence down into atoms, I guess. We’ve got a chemist coming, who can tell us how to deal with the stuff.” She glanced at Grady. “Djuro Rim volunteered.”
“Good for him,” Grady murmured.
“In here,” Jack said, stepping through an open door which had a Guard standing at attention beside it.
There was no one in the room beyond. Grady looked around curiously. It looked like a sitting room in an Aventine apartment. Clean, bright walls, good furniture, plants growing under sunlights. A comfortable chair and a table beside it to hold a drink. The table also held a dozen pads, stacked on top of each other.
A shallow shelf ran around the room at eye level. On it were photos in frames, small trinket boxes, books and other very personal possessions arranged between plant leaves rising up from below. It was a pleasant room, but one designed for solitude. For thinking.
Jack looked at Nash. “Take your time.” She moved back to the door and closed it behind her.
Nash limped over to the shelf where photos were grouped together, more than a dozen of them, each in a different frame.
Grady silently followed him over, wondering why he’d focused on those.
