PROTOTYPE 25
By Heck



Comments to heck@beadyeye.me.uk

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Pain in my wrists.

That was the first thing I felt as consciousness returned and the fog began to
clear. That, and a bouncing, pounding headache. A 'stottin' heid' as we say in
Glasgow.

I could feel pressure under my armpits and something moving against my chest
and belly, but my legs seemed to be hanging loose, unsupported by anything at
all. My head lolled forward, and I felt Lucy's hair against my cheek, smelled
her distinctive, womanly smell. I decided to risk opening one eye.

"Lucy?"

"Hi. It's OK, Sean. I've got you".

I was strapped to her back. It seemed she had tied my wrists together and
slung my arms over her shoulders, fastening the two ends of the rope about her
waist so that she had both arms and legs free, and in this way she was
carrying me down the cliffside to safety and freedom.

Climbing down the cliffside. To safety and freedom. With a full grown,
eighty-kilo man strapped to her back. I wasn't surprised in the slightest.
Relieved and, between you and me, delighted, but not surprised.

"Lucy, I have to tell you, my hands are going numb".

"I guessed they might, but don't worry. We're nearly down".

I looked up. It obviously hadn't been an easy climb. The cliff face was almost
sheer, and the sequoias grew thick and close around the plateau's base so
that, in places, the branches grew tight against the rockface. They may have
provided extra footholds, but I reckoned they would have been more of a
hindrance than a help. For the most part she had scaled down the mossy rock
itself, her grappling hook fingers finding holds on the tiniest of
irregularities.

She had dressed in a tee and shorts, and found a pair of sneakers that would
give her a good grip on the vertiginous surface. I didn't ask what had
happened to the last gunman. I could hazard a pretty good guess.

After what seemed an age, my feet hit the forest floor. Lucy stepped off the
cliff and untied the rope from her waist, ducking under my arms to set me
free. Her deft fingers untied my wrists, and the pain of returning blood
supply was much worse than I expected.

"Damn, that hurts!" I hissed through my teeth. She massaged my hands, rubbing
life back into my tortured fingers. "What's our situation?"

"All the men are down, but not dead. I found their parachutes and tied them up
with the cords". So that was where the rope that had tethered me to her back
had come from. "I tried to get back into the cabin to see if I could get to
Jules, but the heat was too much. It was blazing fiercely. I'm afraid we lost
him". I could see a hint of sadness in her eyes; another death to add to her
toll. "But we can't hang around here. I didn't tie them so they'd never get
free, only to delay them. I threw their helmets into the trees, but at least
one saw me do it. Once they get loose, they'll be able to use them to call for
help, and we should be as far away as we can when that happens".

"Makes sense. So, it seems we were right about Senator Sumner. He stitched us
right up. Do you think the TV folk had anything to do with it?"

"No. They were taken in as much as we were. But I think we can be fairly
confident, now, about who Santana and Bouvier answer to. Sumner has been
behind it all along"

"Seems likely. We had him pegged, right enough". We had begun to walk down a
slope, and I fingered the dried blood in my hair as we picked our way between
the trees. I must have been grazed by a bullet, or hit my head on a rock. I
didn't know, and made a mental note to ask Lucy later. "Do you know where
we're going?"

"Not exactly, but I can hear a river, a few klicks over there. That'd probably
be our best bet".

It was good thinking. At least we could follow the stream so we wouldn't get
disoriented, and it was bound to pass a town, sooner or later. I was in the
lead as we trudged over the thick carpet of dead needles.

"And what then?" I queried. "Back on the run again?"

"No!" Her vehemence took me by surprise, and I stopped to look back at her.
Her jaw muscles were twitching, and there was a look of grim determination in
her eyes. "No", she went on. "We're not running any more. We know who our
enemies are. We're taking it to them".

"Lucy, we can't take the law into our own hands", I protested. "We're in a bad
enough position as it is".

"I'm not suggesting we should". She stepped past me and walked on down the
hill. "You heard President Lydon. She said herself, I'm reinstated as a
citizen of the USA".

"Aye. So?"

"So I'm going to make some citizen's arrests".

*

Her idea about the river was right on the money. We followed it for about
three or four klicks, and came upon a railroad bridge where the tracks crossed
the river. We then followed that for over ten kilometres until we came to a
freight yard, where we jumped a train like a couple of hobos and rode the
rails right into Washington DC.

After freshening up, finding something to eat, and grabbing some sleep, it was
the work of only a few minutes to locate the address of Ted Sumner's private
DC offices. The presence of a number of Secret Servicemen told us he was in,
and we could bet he knew of our escape. There were two outside the entrance
and I could see at least one inside the lobby. We were sitting on a park
bench, not quite directly opposite, for all intents and purposes a pair of
tourists out enjoying the fresh air.

"Any ideas?" Lucy asked me.

"Not a one", I confessed. "I bet yon building ... that building is crawling
with black suits. I can't see a way in".

She looked pensive for a minute, and then sat up straight with a deep sigh.

"There is one", she said, and stood up, setting out to cross the street.

"What? Lucy, what are ... Lucy, wait!" I leapt off the bench and ran after
her, trying to get in front of her, waving my arms in her face. "Lucy, no! You
can't just march in!" I was walking backwards. I knew it was useless to try
and physically restrain her, but was doing my best to obstruct her. She
sidestepped a few times, but kept right on going with that familiar determined
expression.

Before I knew it, we were right outside the Senator's office.

"Excuse me", Lucy said to the Secret Servicemen. "Can you help me? This man is
bothering me. He won't leave me alone".

One of the men put a finger in his ear and spoke quietly into a hidden
microphone. The other came down the steps toward us.

"What?" I burst out, finally getting it and playing along. "Bothering you?
Who's bothering you? I just want you to come home".

"All right, folks", the man said. "Calm down". He shot a look to his
colleague, who gave a brief nod. Both of them placed a hand under their
jackets. "Why don't you just step inside, and we'll talk about it?" He ushered
us up the steps and into the lobby, while his mate closed the big double door
behind us. Inside, the third man stopped pacing.

"Lucy Radovic? Sean Cameron?" He removed his gun from its holster, as did the
other two, and held it where we could see it all to clearly. "We were told you
might drop in. This way, please".

As he ushered us toward the elevator I mugged furiously at Lucy, silently
demanding to know what the hell was going on. She just gave me a quick smile
and a wink. He got into the lift, and somehow Lucy managed to arrange things
so she stood between the two suits that accompanied us. One of them told the
voice recognition console that we wanted the top floor, and the car began its
swift climb.

Like a pair of striking snakes, both of Lucy's fists snapped up and back,
cracking into the faces of the two armed guards. The move wasn't telegraphed
at all and, although they both had guns in their hands, neither had the time
to even register surprise. They both slid gracefully down the mirrored rear
wall to lie in crumpled heaps in the corners.

"There you go", Lucy said, satisfied. "We're in".

"All well and good, but what about when we get to the top? There'll be more
men up there, won't there? And they'll know we're on the way up".

"Got it covered". She sprang up vertically and flipped open the escape hatch
in the roof. She cupped her hands to accept my foot. "Up you go. I'll give you
a boost".

With my foot in Lucy's powerful hands I was propelled up through the hatch in
a second. Lucy then braced her hands and feet against the walls and walked
herself horizontally up until she was hidden above the sliding doors.
Squatting on the roof of the car I couldn't see her and, with the exception of
the two unconscious men, to all appearances the elevator was empty.

The car continued up the shaft inside the tall building. By the light spilling
from the open hatch I could see the cables and runners, and the old-fashioned
winch mechanism at the top growing ever closer. It seemed to rush at me, and I
crouched down trying to make myself as small as I could. The last thing I
needed was to be ground to a paste on top of an elevator car.

There were only inches between the winch and me when the elevator stopped. I
let out a deep breath, timed exactly to coordinate with the sigh of the
opening doors. After a few seconds, when nobody stepped out, they hissed
closed again. That should bring them, I thought.

Right enough, less than a minute passed before the doors reopened, keyed by
one of the Secret Servicemen on the landing.

"Christ!" I heard one say, and he stepped inside to crouch beside his two
fallen colleagues. Another entered right behind him.

Lucy dropped, scissoring her legs around the head of the standing man. He was
borne to the ground by her great weight as her fist slammed into the back of
crouching man's head. As he went down she hammered her fist against the top of
the head between her thighs, and that man slumped too. She grabbed one of the
guns and tossed it through the hatch to me.

"Just in case", she whispered, flattening herself against the wall as
footfalls pounded along the passageway outside. Timing it exactly right, she
flung her straight arm out the door, and a man ran right into it, face first.
It must have been like running into a steel bar. He flipped over backwards and
landed heavily on his back. Out for the count, blood streamed from his
shattered nose.

I dropped through the hatch, wondering what the hell I was going to do with
the gun in my hand. Lucy held up a hand for silence, and popped her head out
into the corridor for a fleeting instant.

'Two', she pantomimed, holding up the requisite number of fingers and pointing
to the left, indicating where they were. They were unlikely to come running,
having seen what had just happened to five, so far, of their number.

Lucy's forehead furrowed in thought for a moment. She picked up another of the
fallen guns. She indicated that I should put my fingers in my ears, but even
so the bang, when she fired into the floor, was close to deafening. With a
gesture, she signalled that it was my turn to make a contribution.

"It's OK!" I called out, trying to make my voice sound like a dazed Secret
Serviceman. "I got her! And I got the man covered".

Lucy let her body go limp, collapsing bonelessly and convincingly across the
bodies of the unconscious. I tucked the gun into my belt and stood with my
hands up, hopefully looking like I was being covered. I heard the two
remaining men trotting along the carpet.

Cautiously, they peered in. Five men were down, Lucy looked as dead as a dead
thing, and I was standing in an attitude of submission. Now, Secret Service
personnel are highly professional and dedicated men, chosen from the cream of
the security service, but they are not known for their imagination. They must
have assumed that whoever had shot Lucy had passed out again. A gesture from a
gun encouraged me to step into the corridor. I, of course, complied, and they
patted me down and disarmed me.

I'll give them this; they were professional. Five of their number had been
overcome, yet they never showed any hint of emotion but simply motioned for m
to proceed them down the corridor. We hadn't covered many metres when I heard
one of them exclaim.

"What the fuck?!"

I spun in place to see. Lucy had crept silently up behind us and seized one of
them by the hips. She hoisted him bodily, using just the power of her arms,
and cracked his head against the ceiling. She then used him like a human club
and swung him round at his comrade. The top of his head connected soundly with
the other's face, the impact sounding like a steak hit with a baseball bat.

I knew Lucy had decided not to kill anyone else unless it became unavoidable,
so I refrained from mentioning that, if either of them had survived that
terrific blow, I'd be a monkey's uncle.

"Which one is Sumner's office?" I wondered.

"I'd guess down at the end", Lucy pointed. "That was where all the guards were
concentrated".

We tried three doors before we found the right one. A secretary was cowering
under her desk in the outer office, terrified out of her wits by the sounds of
fighting. I gestured for her to run, and she exited with relief. We crossed
the room in three strides, and I flung open the door ...

... to find myself staring down the barrel of an antique point-three-five-
seven magnum. The gun might be over a century old, but it would still blow
your head clean off.

I flung myself to one side, flattening against the wall, but Lucy rolled into
the room as the big revolver spoke, splitting the air with a heavy slug that
skimmed over Lucy's flying body to hit a polished walnut panel on the far side
of the outer office. The wood disintegrated under the impact, casting shards
and splinters in all directions.

Lucy came to her feet and reached across the desk to yank the pistol from
Sumner's hand. Her thumb pulled back the hammer and, peering round the
doorjamb, I thought for a moment that she meant to shoot him. So did he, and
the Senator went pale under his tan, holding up his hands in supplication. She
just increased the pressure of her thumb, forcing back the hammer until the
trigger mechanism broke with a satisfying 'clack'. Sumner's eyes bugged out at
her display of digital strength as Lucy dropped the now useless weapon into a
trash basket. She sat on the edge of his desk and riveted him with her gaze.

"You and I need to have a little talk".

"What the hell?" the Senator blustered, trying to cover his chagrin with
bluff. "How dare you come marching in here, making demands, when I've done
nothing but try to help you? Young lady, I ... "

"One", Lucy said in an icy voice. "We haven't made any demands. Yet. Two,
you've done everything but try to help us. You sent armed men to try and
retake us. Both of the men you sent to be our bodyguards, your own president's
men, were killed by those you sent".

"I sent no-one. I ... "

"Liar. You told us that nobody but you and the Learjet pilot knew where we
were. Who else could it have been?"

"The pilot could have ... where's your proof?"

"You know, backstabbing rattlesnakes like you make me sick. You promise
anything, when all you really wanted to do was make a buck. That was it,
wasn't it? You thought you saw an opportunity to cash in, to make a quick
profit from me. I wouldn't be surprised if I had ended up on a dissection
table if you'd had your way". She got up and stepped around the desk to stand
over him. Her presence filled the room with a crackling energy, and she seemed
to grow physically larger. This was not the case, of course, but the cold
anger that radiated from her filled all the space. Even I was in awe of her,
at that moment, and could only imagine her effect on Sumner, the object of her
rage.

"Now, now, Lucy", Sumner stammered.

"Don't you Lucy me", she snarled. "This is what is going to happen. You are
going to make a full confession on videodisk".

"A confession under duress won't hold up in a court of law!"

"Who said anything about a court? When you've made the recording, you're going
to call the president. You and I are going to see her, and you'll present it
to her. You'll make a full and frank explanation of everything that has
happened. You'll name names, and every person who has any responsibility in
any of this will be identified. Then we'll let President Lydon decide what's
to be done".

"You can't do that! I'll be ruined!"

"Yes, you will, but you should have thought of that". She cocked an ear. "And
you can tell whoever just came into the outer office that everything's OK".

I listened hard. I fancied I could just hear muffled footsteps on the carpet
outside. The handle turned. Assistant Director Santana let her gun precede her
through the door. She held it steady, aiming directly at Lucy.

"You OK, Sir?" She said to Sumner. I hadn't noticed, but Lucy's hand had
somehow reached around to the back of Sumner's neck.

"Assistant Director Santana", Lucy said, endowing the title with so much
contempt that it sounded like an insult. If she had added 'you bitch', it
couldn't have been more venomous. "You'll see that I have a hand on the
Senator's neck. You know what I can do. You know that I'm strong enough to
snap it, and fast enough to do it before your bullet reaches me. Put the gun
down".

"Fat chance. Let him go".

For an answer, Lucy tightened her grip. Sumner winced at the sudden pain,
holding up his hands placatingly.

"Let's not do anything hasty, here". Sumner had the look of a seriously
frightened man. "Let's just keep calm. Santana, keep her covered. Any sudden
moves, or anything happens to me, shoot her. Miss Radovic, we seem to have
something of a Mexican standoff, here. Where do you suggest we go from here?"

"Under the circumstances, I don't think we'll bother with the videodisk".
Lucy's tone conveyed that this was not a concession. "Pick up the phone and
call the president".

"Don't do it, Sir", Santana said quietly.

"Certainly not". Sumner had recovered some of his composure. "You're no longer
in a position to make demands".

"Sure I am". Lucy said pleasantly, giving his neck a tweak to emphasise her
point. "Make the call".

"Sir?" Santana's single word asked for instruction. I saw that her whole
attention was riveted on Lucy, apparently ignoring me completely. She knew
exactly where the danger lay, and that was where her concentration was
pointed. For once, this worked to my advantage, leaving me free to take
action. Now, if only I could think of something ...

"You just keep your head, Assistant Director". Just as Santana was focussed on
her, so Lucy was focussed on the FBI woman. Both women knew where lay the
greatest threat. "If Sumner does as he's told, nobody will get hurt".

They weren't the only ones concentrating. I was feeling hyper-aware, the
adrenalin surging through my veins, watching the interchange and noticing
details that, at any other time, might have passed me by. I noticed Sumner
give a tiny nod, and a very slight adjustment of Santana's posture. Something
had passed between them, and Santana had been given her orders to take Lucy
out. If I was going to do anything, it had to be now.

With a distracting yell, I launched myself at the tall agent. Her gun arm
swung round to face my charge, and I grabbed her wrist in both hands, forcing
her arm upward. The crack of the pistol in the confined space was ear
shattering. The bullet ricocheted off a light fitting, and I heard Lucy gasp.

Struggling to keep Santana's gun hand occupied, I risked a glance. A red line
was scored across Lucy's upper arm, and she had instinctively clutched at it
with her other hand. Sumner was free, and was already getting to his feet.

"Lucy, watch out!" I managed, just before Santana's hard, knuckly fist drove
into my solar plexus. I doubled as the air exploded from my lungs and I
struggled for my next breath, desperately clinging on to the agent's gun hand.

Sumner threw a punch at Lucy's face. He was a big man and very fit despite his
age. A punch from him could have done some serious damage, but Lucy blocked it
with an iron forearm. I saw the shock of pain register on his weather-lined
face.

Santana was reaching up with her free hand to take her gun. I grabbed her
wrist, still wheezing for air, and we strained against each other in a strange
and deadly dance. The agent was easily as strong as me. Under normal
circumstances, I might have held her to a stalemate, but my muscles were
starved of oxygen and I was only just beginning to snatch a few shallow
breaths. She twisted her arms round in my grasp, and I began to lose my grip.
The savage grin on her face told me it was only a matter of time until she was
free.

Lucy reached out to grab the lapels of Sumner's immaculately tailored jacket.
She hauled him forward and down, and butted him, her head propelled by the
enhanced muscles of her neck. Their foreheads connected with a smack, and
Sumner slumped like a sack of sawdust.

I was losing my trial of strength against Santana. Her hands were almost free
and, the instant they were, I knew I would die. I lashed out with my feet, but
the agent was well trained in the martial arts. She blocked with her own
ankles, and I could hear a throaty chuckle rising from deep in her chest.

Another hand seized her wrist and drew it away from me. Lucy took her gun
away, and hardly flinched as Santana's hard fist crashed into her jaw. She
took the FBI woman by the throat and thigh and tossed her into the air.
Santana hit the far wall with a sickening thuds, and fell in an untidy heap.

In the sudden quiet that followed, the only sound was my rapid gasping as I
drew breath into my starving lungs. There are worse things than being winded,
but not as many as you might think.

"Sweet suffering Christ on a bike!" I croaked as soon as I had breath enough.
I surveyed the carnage with amazement. "Have you killed them?"

"God, I hope not. Because then we'd have lost everything. Check on Sumner,
Sean".

I crawled to his side, and was relieved to feel a steady pulse at his neck.

"He's OK", I announced as Lucy mirrored my action with Santana.

"This one, too".

I clutched the edge of Sumner's leather-topped desk and climbed unsteadily to
my feet. I felt like shit and, I imagine, looked like it too. Lucy was
slightly flushed in the cheeks, and there was that red line on her arm, which
was already fading, but had hardly a hair out of place.

"This is so unfair", I muttered.

"What is?"

"You. Look at you. We've both been through hell this last couple of days, but
you look like a million bucks. I, on the other hand, look and feel like the
wreck of the Hesperus".

She acknowledged my feeble attempt at humour with a quick smile. Then she was
all business as she began to figure out our next move.

"If we could just get to the President", I said, not all that helpfully. Lucy
stood lost in thought for a moment.

"Yes", she said at last. "That's the only route left open to us".

"Maybe. But we'd never get near her".

"Ordinarily, no, but ... Sean, do you trust me?"

"What sort of a question is that? I love you. Of course I trust you".

"Implicitly?"

"Aye. Why?"

"And will you do as I ask, without question?"

"If it'll get us out of this mess, aye, certainly".

She flashed me her most dazzling smile, cupped my face in her hands, and
kissed me soundly. There was a hint of moisture in the corner of her eye.

"Oh, Sean, I do love you. You know that, don't you?"

I could only nod in response, waiting for whatever was brewing in her
mercurial mind to come to pass, wondering what had caused to get so emotional
all of a sudden. Lucy bent to pick up Santana's gun, and handed it to me.

"Do you know how to use this?"

"Vaguely. Why? Who do you want shooting?"

"Nobody. I just want you to look as if you know what you're doing".

"I can do that".

"Good. So, dump out the bullets. We don't want anything to go wrong. I'm
expecting the police at any moment, and I don't want to give them any excuse".

"The police? How do you ... ?" I began, just as I heard the first wail of
screaming sirens. "Ah. You heard them coming".

"For about a minute, now. The secretary must have dialled nine-one-one". She
crossed over to Sumner's recumbent body. "Ready?"

"Aye. As I'll ever be".