He waited a fraction of a second and there was no response. Instinct told him that any reaction to the hatch flipping back would have been instantaneous, so he took that as his cue to go up and look. The height of the elevator car was only half a foot above Ryan’s head, and he could easily reach up and grip firmly on the ledge around the hatch entrance. Flexing his powerful biceps and forearm muscles, he was able to lift himself up, springing up from his toes to propel his shoulders through the hatch, taking his free arm, still gripping the Steyr before him.
Using his elbow to pivot, he swung his head and shoulders through almost 360 degrees.
The top of the car was empty. With a grim smile, he dropped back to the floor of the elevator car, where he was greeted by Gloria.
“So they missed on that chance, yeah?” she said.
Ryan nodded. “So far, so good. Let’s hope they get that slack all along the line.”
Gloria beckoned to the rest of the attack group waiting in the corridor. They entered the elevator car and stood uneasily.
“Better get ready now,” Gloria said briefly. Ryan waited until the warriors had drawn their handblasters and had their blades in hand, then keyed in the sec code for the elevator on the keypad that was situated to the left-hand side of the inner elevator door. The doors hissed shut, and the elevator began to drop at a steady rate, registering to the assembled party as the merest pressure. But it was enough for some of the Gate warriors—not used to such tech—to exchange glances.
“It’s the speed we’re falling,” Ryan said, catching their mute exchanges. “Don’t think about it. Concentrate on what’s about to happen…”
The elevator hit the first level, just as Ryan had punched in. It slowed suddenly, causing the stomach to lurch, but smoothly, too. Ryan inclined his head toward the warriors at his rear.
“This is it,” he said simply, turning back to face the doors, giving Gloria a brief glance on the way. The Gate queen favored him with her lopsided grin, her eyes bright with the anticipation of battle.
The doors hissed and began to open.
“KRYSTY, YOU TAKE the door as you know the codes. Shit. I really hate old tech!” The Titian-haired beauty grinned as she passed Tammy and punched in the sec code on the door. Both women headed an eight-strong party that had taken one of the lesser elevators to the rear of the building. Along the way, they had taken out a number of sec cameras. “Shit, the number of cameras we’ve shot out, they’re gonna know exactly where we’re headed,” Tammy said at one point.
Krysty shrugged in reply. “The good thing is that we’ll know they’ll be waiting for sure—no doubts, just decisive action.”
And now, as Krysty keyed in the sec code and the doors of the elevator slid open, Tammy murmured, “Decisive action. That’s exactly what we need. This waiting is getting to me.”
Krysty turned to her. “Just stay frosty with it, Tam, and we can outfight these bastards. They don’t know what they’re up against.”
Tammy laughed, tossing back her auburn curls. “Say that again, sugar. Now, let’s get this bastard thing secured.” She stepped into the elevator, blaster leveled for possible opposition, nerves on a razor edge.
THE PARTY INCLUDING Doc Tanner and Margia had already secured their elevator and were headed toward the first level. Doc had the LeMat loaded and the swordstick unsheathed from the cane that was both its disguise and protection. His eyes were wide, fueled by the adrenaline that pumped around his skinny frame. Doc was only too well aware of the frailties that his body could be prone to at the most inopportune moments. He prayed to himself that he would hold it together at the times when he most needed to, then looked across at Margia.
The blond armorer was staring at a fixed point just in front of her, and above the head of the Amazon warrior who would precede her out of the elevator. She had a Browning Hi-Power in one hand, and the other held a panga that she had taken especially from the armory. Similar in appearance to the blades carried by both Ryan and Gloria, the blonde had taken this panga and honed the edge to a point where it was razor sharp, and was almost as thin and sharp as the most finely honed scimitar. If Margia had been able to find a piece of silk, she would have tossed it in the air and swished showily at it with the blade to rip it and demonstrate the skill with which she had honed the blade.