Ixeos: Book One of the Ixeos Trilogy (36 page)

“Yes, sir,” Riley said, holding it up as proof. “Good as new. Thanks.”

“We do have one question,” Abacus said, leaning forward on his elbows.

“Shoot,” Landon said, looking at ease as he sipped his tea.

“What do we do with Darian when we get him?”

Neahle sat down across from her brother in the library. Clay had missed lunch, poring over maps of Rome instead. He was trying to help Abacus figure out how to hide Darian in plain sight and then evacuate him from the city. There were a lot of tunnels in Rome, ancient catacombs where early Christians had hidden from persecution, but the Firsts would assume that’s where they’d go and concentrate their search on them. The outsiders were still debating a less obvious choice. Now Clay closed the street guide to Rome and sat back, his hands crossed behind his head.

“He said that?” he asked, his blue eyes intense. Neahle noticed that his hair was almost long enough for a ponytail and smiled at what her mother would say.

“Yep. Darian can use the portals. All we have to do is get him to Paris and Landon will be waiting for us.”

“I don’t understand. I thought the humans here couldn’t use them.”

Neahle shrugged. “I don’t either, but then, how did he get any of us here? It’s not like he’s a regular person, or that there’s some law of physics we followed to jump to a whole new planet in another dimension, or a logical explanation as to why we go through the portals and end up halfway around the world. I guess he can do what he wants.”

“That’s epic. Seriously. I wonder if he’ll let any other humans from up top come here. I mean, Darian will want an army, and generals and stuff, right? Maybe they’ll all meet down here, or in Jordan where it’s safe. That would be awesome.” He pushed the map away from him. “It sure saves us a whole lot of headache.”

“We still have to get him from Circus Maximus to the portal,” Neahle reminded him.

“We do that kind of stuff all the time,” Clay said. “With seven hundred of us out there, we should be able to hustle him away and hide him.”

Neahle frowned. “That seems too easy. The Firsts have vehicles and guns… They’re going to chase us.” She was with the infiltration team and was terrified of being caught inside the prison. “If we even get out in one piece.”

“We’ll get out,” her brother assured her. “We have motorcycles and guys that know the streets.
All
the streets. We may have to hide Darian for a night or two in the city or switch him off to other riders, but Vasco’s got a dozen rebels on bikes who can drive the city at a hundred miles an hour, down every tiny alley. They can draw off the chase or carry Darian away from any fighting. All of us…” He paused, saying a quick prayer that all of the infiltration team would actually get out of the prison alive. “All of us will meet at the drop point. Someone will deliver Darian there and all we have to do is get him through the tunnel and into the portal.”

“Oh, that’s all?” Neahle said. “Sounds like a walk in the park.”

Chapter Fifty

T
he raid was scheduled for
5:30 in the morning. Seventeen other events were happening worldwide at the exact same moment, from the bombings of the comm center in Paris and the breeding centers in Osaka and Istanbul to the destruction of factories and even vehicles in other cities. Everyone who could organize an op in the short time available had done so. The proverbial watches were synchronized. They wouldn’t know for weeks how it all went and who had survived.

By 4:00, the infiltration team was looking down on the prison from Palatine Hill. The building was dark and foreboding but not as large as Neahle had imagined. Small, barred windows broke the dark red brick exterior, indicating three stories. The front and back doors were steel. It was strictly utilitarian. A small white van was parked in front of the door. Surveillance suggested that shifts were changed via a transport bus twice a day at 8:00 and 8:00. Rebel cells who had been watching the shift transfers in Beijing and Osaka over the last two weeks reported that there were fifteen individuals per shift: five armed guards and ten slaves. No one knew how many prisoners were held in the building.

“I still don’t know how we’re getting in,” Neahle whispered to her brother.

“I don’t know if they aren’t saying or don’t know.” He was lying flat on his stomach, resting binoculars in his hands as he looked down at the building.

“What do you see?” Neahle asked. They had two pairs of binoculars for the entire team, but she didn’t mind not seeing the building magnified. She’d be seeing it up close and personal soon enough anyway.

“There’s an electronic pad by the door. I can’t tell if it’s a scanner or a keypad with the angle. I can just see the red light.”

“Great. So someone has to know the code or… What? Have cut off someone’s finger?” Neahle rested her head on her arms, breathing in the smell of dirt and grass, wondering if it was the last time she would smell them. She felt more than saw her brother shrug.

At 5:00, they began to creep down the hill. The Circus Maximus, when unoccupied by the prison, was a long rectangular stretch of grass, with the ruins of walls and seating alongside. The Seven Hills of Rome hadn’t been maintained for their tourist value, so the infiltration team had the cover of long grasses, trees, and rocks as they made their way down. They stopped in pairs behind marble ruins, staying out of the minimal moonlight.

At 5:20, Neahle clicked the stopwatch she had in her pocket. Each pair had a stopwatch, a Maglite, a baseball bat, a fully charged taser, and a bag full of smoke bombs. Monkey had been busy all around the world over the last few weeks, picking up whatever he could find to help the rebels and his fellow tunnel fighters defend against armed Firsts. Abacus had made the decision to eschew guns in the close quarters of the prison; he was afraid they’d shoot each other by accident. Neahle was beginning to regret that decision. She nudged Clay and he nodded.

When the stopwatch read 3:00 minutes, they ran, bent over at the waist, towards the front door. The other three teams came from various directions; they all converged in front of the big steel door. Abacus stared at it. There was no handle and no hinges. The keypad had a touchscreen, no buttons, and a solid red light glowing at the top left.

“What now?” Riley asked, looking at the older man. “You know how to open it?”

Abacus shook his head. Neahle looked at the stopwatch. They had less than six minutes before all hell broke loose all over the planet. They needed to be inside when that happened.

“Landon didn’t tell you?” Hannah said incredulously.

Abacus shook his head again. “He said one of us would know.”

Mouths fell open; they all felt like ducks in a shooting gallery.

“That’s crap!” Hannah said. She looked around at her friends, knowing they were all going to die. Clay met her eyes.

“I know,” he said.

“What?” Neahle said, grabbing his arm. “How can you know?”

Pushing back his sleeve, Clay exposed the tattoo of his brother’s fingerprint and pressed his arm against the touch screen. There was a five second lag and the light turned green. The door clicked and opened an inch. Abacus reached out and pulled it wide with a grin, motioning for the team to enter. Clay stood for a moment, staring at his wrist, at the tattoo he’d gotten for no clear reason. He glanced at Neahle and shrugged, then took her hand and ran inside.

Strips of red lights ran along the concrete floor, similar to those on an airplane aisle. There was no foyer or reception area, simply a hallway that ran the length of the building to the smaller rear door beyond. Halfway down, a metal stairway ascended. Six doors ran along each side of the hall. All were closed and no light shone under them.

Abacus guided the heavy steel door closed; the only noise it made was a soft
snick
when the lock engaged. The keypad to the right of the door reassured the team that they would be able to get out… If they got that far. Gesturing with both hands, he sent them down the hallway, two teams per side, hugging the wall.

When they reached the stairs, Abacus motioned for Clay, Neahle, Monkey and Riley to go up while the others stayed behind, standing guard. Carefully they put their sneakered feet on the bottom step, listening for any creaking or groaning of the metal. It was solid. Silently they rose to the second floor.

At the end of the hall, on the back side, a light came through a glass door on the left of the hall. The doors on the right side were steel, each with a hatch at face level, a door handle and a bolt lock. They were closed and dark. Those on the left were wood. They appeared to be offices like the ones on the ground floor.

Making a circle with his hand and pointing upwards to the second flight, Monkey led them upward. Riley stayed on Monkey’s right, one step behind. Clay led Neahle, who held onto her brother’s belt and tried not to hyperventilate. Four steps from the top, Monkey halted the team, going forward alone, crawling up the final stairs.

After a minute, he came back down. Pulling out a small pad of paper he wrote, “
One door has a keypad, middle, left side. Other doors like level 2. Another guard room, far end, lighted. Where are slaves, staff???”

They all knew there was no answer to that, but they also knew that the worldwide chaos was going to start soon and it would surely put those in this building on alert. They had to do the thing in front of them: try to open the one door with a touch screen and pray it was Darian’s cell.

Clay pointed to himself then to his wrist, at the tattoo. Monkey nodded. Neahle shook her head. Clay hugged her and looked her in the eye. She felt his confusion at his role, at the tattoo being the right fingerprint to unlock this place. She knew in her heart that he was the only one who could free Darian. She knew he was
meant
to free Darian. Reluctantly she nodded, touching his cheek.

Clay grabbed Monkey, pointing for Riley to stay with his sister. Riley nodded, taking a taser out of his pocket and checking that it was on. Clay quietly went up the stairs, took three steps to the left, and put his wrist to the pad. The light turned from red to green and the door popped open without a sound.

Pulling it open, Monkey entered first, his Maglite in his hand. Inside was pitch dark; the cell didn’t have a window.

“Don’t turn the light on,” a voice said in harsh whisper. “It will activate an alarm. I’m ready.”

Chapter Fifty-One

D
arian was tall, easily six
feet four. He had long blonde hair pulled back in a low braid that ran down to the center of his back. He was dressed in hiking boots and cargo pants and looked remarkably like Vasco. He smiled at his rescuers as he entered the hall but he didn’t stop moving. Monkey led the way; Clay brought up the rear. When they reached Neahle and Riley, Darian smiled again, but again kept moving. They all flew down the stairs, turning left into the hall. The rest of the team fell in behind them as they raced to the steel door. Clay put his wrist to the screen, the door opened, and Abacus reached to pull it.

If he had but looked, Abacus would have seen the hand of his watch tick to 5:30. He held the door open and the team lunged out. Just as Hannah was passing Abacus, all the lights went on, an alarm sounded, and they could hear the doors along the hallway slam open.

Abacus pushed Hannah outside and threw himself through the opening as gunfire began to echo in the sterile hallway. He staggered but kept going, taking Hannah’s hand and dragging her south, away from the Coliseum and Palatine Hill, towards their hidden motorcycle. The doors of the prison banged open and two Firsts appeared with machine guns at each end of the building, firing indiscriminately into the darkness. The exterior lights along the building, which had gone on when the alarm was sounded, blinded them to anything in the black morning beyond.

Clay and Neahle were the first to reach the rendezvous point. Clay had driven like a maniac through the streets, along the preset path he had memorized. No one chased them; they vaguely noticed the shadows of rebels who had formed three concentric defensive rings around the prison. Their job was to make sure no Firsts got through while chasing the infiltration team, and to take out as many enemy forces as they could once the Firsts began to arrive at the prison to investigate the raid.

The portal was in the Catacomb of San Callisto, the entrance to which was along the ancient Appian Way. The problem was, the entrance to these Catacombs was not far from the Circus Maximus. Not wanting to chance being followed into the tunnel, the infiltration team had elected to meet to the east of the Catacomb entrance after driving far afield to lose any pursuers. They chose the Nome di Maria, a long-abandoned Catholic church on Via Centuripe, just off the parkland surrounding the Appian Way.

Clay turned off the motorcycle and they slid off. He walked it around the back of the L-shaped building into the darkness. Neahle followed close behind, hyper aware for any man-made sounds. There were none. When they reached the meeting point, they sat down with their backs against the cold, damp stone of the church. Neither spoke. Neahle could feel the adrenaline starting to ease out of her system; she felt shaky.