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  “Come on, who’s going to know?” his partner said with a cocky shrug. “Nobody cares who flies out of the country.”

  “You want a peek at the cargo first?” Lucy said. She smiled cheerfully and reached to unbutton her blouse another notch or two.

  Well, that eliminated resistance for both of them. As they stepped closer to her, I came up behind, grabbed a handful of hair from each, and bashed their heads together. Just hard enough to knock the pilots out.

  “Nice work, Hays,” Lucy said and grinned. “But I’m still driving.”

  I was done arguing with her-at least for right now. She was the one, after all, who was too important to be captured. I wondered what that was all about.

  “I’ll let the passengers know there’s been a change in flight plans,” I said.

  “Try to be subtle, Hays.”

  “Definitely.”

  We jumped on board, with Lucy ducking into the cockpit and me heading back into the passenger compartment.

  Chapter 53

  Subtle , I reminded myself. That is certainly sound advice under the circumstances. We are, after all, hijacking this plane.

  Unfortunately, when I walked into the cabin, which was decked out like a luxury hotel suite-with plush couches, a full bar, and the latest entertainment devices from the Toyz Corporation-the three executive types seated there weren’t particularly overjoyed to see me on board.

  I guess I could understand why. They were just getting acquainted with the other passengers: two beautiful and well-endowed female androids who were at the preflight teasing stage of their “coffee, tea, or me” routine. And the “me” part could be taken quite literally.

  “What are you doing in here?” the oldest of the businessmen asked, probably the boss. “We didn’t order any male androids.”

  The executive brushed a partially undressed female companion off his lap and stood, glaring at me with the self-assured look of somebody used to being in charge.

  Subtle, Hays.

  I snapped to attention and gave him a salute. “I’m with the Agency of Change,” I answered. “I’m on a mission here.”

  I was on a mission-to find something in the compartment I could use as a weapon. These three execs might not be trained fighters, but they weren’t ordinary humans, either-they were Elite males, and I didn’t have the edge of surprise I’d had with the pilots. “We’re bringing a bomb simulator on board. It’s a prototype… for wiping out human cities. Don’t worry, there’s no danger to any of you. This is President Jacklin’s initiative.”

  The hostility on their faces changed to interest, and duty. So now what did I tell them?

  “The machine will be loaded on in just a minute,” I said as I sidestepped into a storage area that held metal canisters of fire retardant. I wrenched one of them from its rack. It would have to do.

  The plane had suddenly started forward in a smooth glide that, at first, was barely perceptible. The senior executive who’d first challenged me did it again. “The door’s still open! And if the prototype’s coming in, why are we moving?” he asked.

  “To give you a running start,” I said and spun around with the heavy canister, lashing it at his jaw. It connected with a rinnng that vibrated through my fingers all the way to my teeth.

  As he staggered away, I planted my boot in his chest and shoved him, flailing and yelping, out the open door to the tarmac below. Before I could recover my balance, the other two gents piled onto me. I could tell by the way they moved that they had military backgrounds.

  I was still clutching the canister in my hands, so I snapped the seal off the nozzle. I aimed it at them. Then I coated the men with a blast of gooey, greenish fire retardant.

  “What the hell!” one of them yelled. “I can’t see!”

  They reeled away, crashing into each other, blinded for the moment. Next, I used the canister to bludgeon them out the door behind their bossy friend.

  Then I turned my attention to the two androids. “Ladies, I’m afraid you get off here too!” They were only too happy to oblige.

  “That’s your idea of subtle?” I heard Lucy call from up front. “Now shut the damn door!”

  Chapter 54

  It took some wrestling to get the plane’s door closed. Seconds later though, we were off, streaking out across the vast expanse of the North Pacific-toward only Lucy knew precisely where, and why.

  After a few hours of resting back in the cabin, I finally went up in the cockpit with her. “Now what happens?” I asked.

  “More trouble, I’m afraid. The radar shows an interceptor craft, and it’s gaining on us. We’ve got maybe ten minutes before it catches up. They really don’t want you to get away, Hays.”

  “Maybe Lizbeth just wants me back.”

  “No offense, but I doubt that very much. You are a human, Hays. She’s High Elite, and I don’t mean that as a compliment. The two of you are oil and water.”

  She gazed at me calmly, but we both had an idea of what was coming next. The interceptor was a smart-missile that would clamp onto our plane, cut a hole through the fuselage, and unleash a team of highly trained Elite commandos inside.

  “We’re going to have to bail out,” she said. “You’ve used a Deathwish Suit before, haven’t you?”

  “Unfortunately, yes,” I answered. “Deathwish Suit” was a pejorative nickname for superinsulated silicone uniforms with jet-propulsion packs and parachutes. They were designed for high-altitude bailouts, like this one would be. The jetpacks would last an hour, keeping you aloft, then you needed to pop the chute and hope for a pinpoint landing.

  “Come in here and put one on,” she said. “I’m trying to contact friends in Russia who might help us. But it’s going to be down to the wire.”

  “Just the way I like it,” I said.

  “You’re such a liar.”

  “Not me. Everybody else.”

  Chapter 55

  The attack came much faster than Lucy or I would have liked. With a harsh grinding sound, the interceptor latched like a giant, metal remora onto the outside of the jet. It rocked us sideways, but the Elites apparently didn’t want to knock us out of control and risk a crash. Maybe I was still usable to them-or to Lizbeth. Or maybe Jax Moore wanted to kill me himself.

  I was snuggled up beside the rear cargo-hatch controls, my body wedged tightly into a storage space, my feet braced against a wall.

  A laser saw from the interceptor, with a sharp hiss, had already started to cut into metal. A smoldering line appeared in our hull as the beam sliced through.

  In less than a minute, the cutout fell inward, and two well-built Elite guards charged through, with three more right behind them. They were armed with assault rifles and wearing their own Deathwish Suits, ready for anything.

  Well, not anything.

  I dropped the cargo hatch!

  Instantly, a ferocious wind sprang up inside the plane.

  The first two commandos were too shocked and surprised to grab hold of anything. The suction pulled them flying through the cabin, then shot them out the hatch into the dark ether.

  The same could be said for just about everything else that wasn’t fastened down tightly. Bottles from the bar flew past me like a hail of bullets, along with luggage, wads of plush upholstery, entire cabinets that had been torn from the walls.

  Then my luck turned bad again. Our luck, since Lucy was involved now too. The cutout section of hull was wrenched off the floor and came spinning along with the rest of the debris-but it hit the hatch opening flat, blocking most of it.

  When the three remaining commandos got sucked toward the hatch, they slammed into the hull cutout instead. Not good for me. Suddenly, it was three against one, and these guys were trained to maim, then kill.

  Of course, I tried to remind myself, so am I.

  I unwedged myself, pointed my feet at them, and let go of my grip. The wind shot me toward the hatch like a human pile driver. This certainly should be interesting. If I survive.

&n
bsp; Chapter 56

  Proving that I still had “it,” I slammed into two of the muscular commandos, a boot planted squarely in each man’s chest. The force of our impact caved in the hull section, folding it in the middle. It blew out through the hatch and we went with it, twisting into the air outside with gut-wrenching speed.

  I grabbed hold of the nearest commando’s throat, then gave my jetpack a hard blast.

  The two of us broke free from the others and rocketed away, punching and kneeing each other viciously as we struggled for control of his rifle.

  His buddies were quick to follow, moving faster than I could with my unwilling passenger in tow. Flashing bursts of laser fire started hissing past us.

  I managed to spin the commando around and into a headlock with the rifle pinned across his throat. As best I could, I was using him as a shield.

  His “buddies” didn’t hesitate for a second. They continued to fire mercilessly. The tough skin of the Deathwish Suits kept the blasts from traveling all the way through, but I suffered the shock of successive shots hitting his body. I felt him convulse-then go limp in my arms.

  Hanging on to the rifle, I curled myself up tightly and shoved the dead body into their path. Then I jetted away in a series of sharp, erratic somersaults. That bought me a few seconds, long enough to turn around and start shooting back.

  That was when another Deathwish-Suited figure came spinning into sight.

  Lucy in the sky-no diamonds!

  She was zooming in behind the pair of commandos, so they didn’t see her-not until she crashed piggyback onto one Elite’s shoulders. She locked the poor guy’s neck between her thighs in a scissor hold. Then her hands snapped his neck, tearing off his helmet with such fury that I was surprised when his head wasn’t still inside it.

  As she rode that flopping body past the other commando, the sight distracted him for the instant I needed to fire off several shots. The lasers slammed his back; his hands jerked up and tossed his rifle into the icy wind rushing around us.

  Lucy released her grip on the dead man she was straddling, and he sailed away, out to join his brethren in a long, final plunge to oblivion in the wild waters of the Bering Sea.

  Lucy turned, grinned rather insanely, and gave me a double thumbs-up.

  For my part, I grinned insanely back at her, wondering what I’d gotten myself into with this crazy, but obviously brave and impressive, human woman.

  Book Three

  THE EUROPEAN TOUR

  Chapter 57

  The insane grins and double thumbs-ups between Lucy and me were long gone and almost forgotten now. Unfortunately, and as promised, flying in a Deathwish Suit was no joyride. I had to fight my way through the fierce air currents that tossed me around like a snowflake, and my body took a relentless, terrible pounding.

  But the more serious problem was that our jetpack charges were running low. Lucy and I conserved some fuel by dropping into nearly heart-stopping free falls-then gave the jets a blast to lunge our bodies forward again.

  But by the time we sighted land, still far away, we were running on empty.

  I saw Lucy straighten her body like a high diver leaping off a cliff, cut in her jets for a final burst of juice, and shoot forward in a long, arcing glide.

  Now what? Follow the kamikaze, of course.

  I did the same as Lucy, staying a few yards behind her. Wherever we hit, it was going to be together. Matching grave sites? That seemed a likely possibility.

  Gravity sucked us downward with dizzying speed, hurling us straight toward frothing coastal breakers. At the last possible second, Lucy popped her parachute. So did I.

  My chute engaged with a jolt that yanked me full around, but I still plunged the last couple hundred feet with the speed of a supercharged Mercedes on an open highway. I hit the shoreline in a tumbling roll that sent a white-hot shock through my blood and bones.

  Then I bounced and skittered for a good ten to fifteen seconds before I finally skidded to a stop, face to face with an unresponsive boulder.

  At least the earth was solid underneath me. I’d had more than enough sky.

  Lucy was about fifty yards away, just getting to her feet.

  I walked to join her, taking in the surroundings. Wherever we were, this place was damned cold; it might have been summer back in New Lake City, but here, the ground was half-frozen tundra. It stretched unbroken to the horizon, fading into the misted-over gray light of early morning.

  All of a sudden I spotted a small blur moving in the distance-which quickly turned out to be a scene from an earlier century.

  Unbelievable!

  Two dozen fierce-looking men mounted on shaggy horses and wearing animal skins were riding toward us with astonishing speed. They were black-haired and golden-skinned, not very tall but powerfully built. They sat on their ponies with a confidence and ease that suggested they’d grown up on them.

  I got the feeling that the grins on their faces would stay there even if their heads were being cut off-and probably had stayed on while they were cutting off other people’s heads.

  As they got close, the wings of their V-formation pulled ahead to form a circle, completely surrounding Lucy and me.

  They’d done this before, hadn’t they?

  “Oh no,” I said quietly.

  The leader leaped off his still-moving horse, landing as nimbly and as well balanced as a cat would, and strode toward us, rifle in hand.

  He completely ignored me, throwing open his arms and bellowing a word that sounded like “Mehkween!”

  “Tazh Khan!” Lucy cried back, and then she hurried past me into his waiting embrace. The two of them hugged like long-lost lovers, then they talked excitedly and very rapidly in a language that was like nothing I’d ever heard or read.

  Hoo boy! So these were the “friends” she’d contacted to help us save the human race from extinction?

  Things didn’t look too good for us skunks.

  Chapter 58

  “There are many tribes-and nations-out here in the real world,” Lucy explained to me a few minutes later. We were riding horses-side by side. In Russia. Siberia, I believe.

  “Is he a former boyfriend?” I asked.

  “Certainly preferable to your wife,” she answered. “But no, Tazh Khan is just a good friend. We’ve fought the Elites together and kicked some butt.”

  “Why do they call you Mehkween?” I asked next, half shouting over the swirling wind that was blowing down like a twister from the frozen north.

  “It’s Megwin,” she answered. “That’s what my parents originally named me, and that’s how some resistance people know me. Lucy’s just for the straight world. You can call me Lucy.”

  “Thanks much, Mehkween.”

  I let it go at that; it wasn’t really much of a surprise compared to everything else that had happened. It turned out that Lucy/Megwin had worked with Tazh Khan and his men for years. Despite their savage appearance, they had not only modern weapons but modern communications technology-and this was the rendezvous she’d arranged for while we were in the plane.

  Now the Mongols were taking us to a place where we’d get safe transport across Russia-to England, which, according to Lucy, remained quite civilized. As did France, Germany, Italy, Scandinavia.

  There was another reason besides the strong winds that made talking difficult. Jouncing along on the ponies that they’d provided had my teeth hopelessly clacking together. Horseback riding had not been included in Agent of Change training; I’d never even been near a horse before.

  I found out fast that it wasn’t nearly as easy as these Mongol warriors made it look. Sitting astride the bony little beast was like getting kicked squarely in the ass with every single step. It didn’t help that I was close to a foot taller than everybody except Lucy.

  It didn’t help, either, that while the Mongols adored Lucy/Megwin, they didn’t seem to like me one bit-especially Tazh Khan. They didn’t try to hide their mockery of my clumsy horsemanship. Perhaps to dr
ive the point home, one of them would occasionally gallop away from the group to chase one of the large hares that popped up out of the ground and dashed away. In a blur of erratic, side-blitzing speed, the pony would hunt it down while the rider leaned out parallel to the ground with his bow and arrow and skewered it.

  Hitting a target like that was roughly like shooting a snowflake in a blizzard. But they never seemed to miss.

  “Ey!” Tazh Khan said, trotting up beside me. He might have been thirty years old, or sixty, and looked like he was made completely of leather and bone, like he had existed forever.

  “Ey!” he repeated and rubbed his belly, then jerked his thumb toward his mouth-apparently asking if I was hungry.

  I waited warily. I was hungry, but I had a hard enough time with ordinary human food and seriously doubted that whatever this barbarian horde ate was any improvement on, say, the human frankfurter.

  A long knife suddenly appeared in his hand, its edge worn thin, almost to invisibility, by what had to have been thousands of honings.

  He leaned forward to whisper in his mount’s ear, gave it a couple of soothing pats, then touched the blade to one of the pulsing veins that ran along its neck. Hell-he’d just cut his own horse!

  As blood welled out, Tazh Khan clasped his mouth over the open cut and sucked in a long, leisurely drink.

  The pony never even flinched. Its vein was crisscrossed with neat scars, I now saw. These horses weren’t just transportation, they were movable snack bars.

  When he finished, he smeared some kind of ointment around the nicked flap of the animal’s skin and closed the wound. Quite the humanitarian, I was thinking.

  Then he surprised me with an offer of his knife.

  I did nothing but shake my head.