The lock on the side door was already oozing oil, and the key worked silently. He pulled it aside, admitting a gust of cold air and the rest of the companions. Ryan patted the boy on the shoulder, Krysty returned his vest and blasters and J.B. took back his picks.
“This way,” Mildred, directed consulting a map. “Two levels up, one corridor over. Third door.”
“Guards?” Jak asked, knife and blaster at the ready.
“None,” she replied. “We’re coming in backward, remember?”
“Two on two coverage,” Ryan said, the silenced 9 mm SIG-Sauer out and level. The bolt action Steyr SSG-70 was hiding in its usual position across his back. “Silent penetration, one yard spread. Doc on point, Jak back of him. I’ll take the rear. Dean, J.B., Krysty and Mildred, take the crossbows.”
“Arrows,” Mildred said, tucking a crossbow between her thighs and, holding the string with both hands, cocked the weapon. The launching lever locked into position with a loud clack.
Dean handed them out. “Two quivers each.”
The physician tucked a quarrel snugly into the notch. “Ready.”
“Check,” Krysty said, expertly holding the weapon slanted upward, a hand laid alongside the lever, but not actually touching. Metal blasters got stubborn with age as springs weakened. Wooden crossbows got feisty.
Doc holstered the LeMat and unsheathed his sword. The normally shiny blade was a dull gray from a mixture of ash and bone glue. Perfect for nightcreep work.
“So let us do the deed which must be done,” he said quietly, “dark and bloody, this cold night.”
Staying near the walls to retard visibility, the companions swept through the deserted halls of the Citadel, advancing down corridors, up stairs and through spacious rooms lavishly decorated. They meet with no resistance.
In a chilly corridor lit only by hanging oil lamps at both ends, Ryan raised a hand and closed it into a fist. Everybody stopped. Then he lifted a finger and twirled it in a circle. The others gathered close.
“This feels wrong,” he said. “They must have everybody out searching for us.”
“Idiots,” Jak agreed, snowy hair masking his features.
“Then they took the bait about the gasoline tanks,” Dean said.
“Appears so.”
“Or this is another trap,” Ryan countered, feeling the tiny hairs on the back of his neck rise. “I don’t trust the heirs any more than I do the slaves. Haven’t meet this many crazy lying bastards since those folks in Maine.”
Suddenly, Krysty sliced the air with a flat hand and conversation ceased. The ceiling above them was vibrating slightly, making the hanging lanterns twitch at the end of their chains. The noise steadily increased until the ceiling rumbled with the sound of marching, then it briskly faded away in the direction they were heading.
“That was a freaking army,” J.B. said, tucking his glasses more firmly onto his nose as a prelude to combat. “The heirs must have called in the reserves.”
“Leave?” Dean asked.
If we could get past the wall without Leviathan,” Ryan said, “we would already be gone. We’re in for the full count, boy.”
Krysty spread the map flat on the floor and Jak brought a lamp closer.
“Any way to circle past the bedchambers and reach the armory from the other side?” Ryan asked, studying the old map.
“We can cut through the garage,” Krysty replied, pointing the way.
Won’t they be expecting that?” Dean asked wornedly.
“It’s too small for Leviathan,” Ryan said. “Only bikes and such there. Nothing a prisoner could use to escape.”
“Hell, there’s not even anything there we want now, J.B. added. “Just a place to go through.”
A sec man in old worn sneakers stepped around the corner, the rubber soles noiseless on the stone floor. He was holding a steaming mug in both hands and gasped when he spied the group huddled around the map on the floor. Doc lunged, stabbing him through the throat with his sword, the blade slicing through to the other side. The mug dropped from nerveless fingers, and Mildred caught it in midair. Hacking for air, the guard stood there, motionless with the pain. Jak moved behind him and thrust a leaf-shaped blade upward into the base of the head where the spine met the skull. Then he twisted the knife and the guard went limp as if a switch had been thrown. As they lowered the body to the floor, Dean was amazed at the lack of blood from the attack and filed the move away for future use.