I ran through the office next door, ignoring the frantic calls from the receptionist. I found a way out into their parking s.p.a.ce that backed onto the gallery. It was too much to hope for a door to the gallery that had been left open, but at least there were windows I could see through.

One of them was open on a latch, letting air circulate. I crouched down out of sight and gave it a quiet shake, but it was too strong to force open. Peering over the sill, I couldn't see any movement inside. But I could hear men arguing, and a child crying.

The receptionist appeared at the office's back door and was about to step out into the parking lot. I got the HK out of the shoulder holster. The thing is huge-there is no way she couldn't see what it was. Her hand flew to her mouth and she disappeared back into the building, slamming the door shut behind her.

She'd be calling 911. Good. I pulled the police radio out and tried beating her to it.

"This is Officer Farrell. I'm in a parking lot behind Galera del Sur, on Cheyenne. I have reason-"

The radio squalled in the way it does when someone tries to override you.

"Farrell, you're suspended, you stupid b.i.t.c.h. Get the f.u.c.k off the radio." Buchanan's voice was distorted by his screaming into the microphone.

I closed my eyes and paused, then went on. "I have reason to believe the kidnappers of Emily Schumacher are in the gallery. I'm requesting immediate situation team on site."

"Farrell-"

There was a choked-off noise followed by silence, then the dispatcher came back. "Got that, situation team alerted." He'd pa.s.sed the buck to whoever was running the team.

A minute pa.s.sed and I found out who that was. Morales' voice came on. "Farrell, are you sure?" At least he wasn't debating my current employment status with the police.

"Yes, Lieutenant. I can hear them arguing, and I can hear her crying."

"The team is on its way. You keep back and you do not do anything."

The vampires had gotten it together enough to get out of sight. If they were rational enough for that, their argument might be about how the h.e.l.l they were going to get away now. They wouldn't be aware that I was here, or a SWAT team was on the way. As far as they were concerned, their best bet would be to split up and walk away.

They wouldn't leave any witnesses if they did that.

Only a few minutes, but it might be too late when the SWAT team arrived.

I was trained in hostage rescue. Certainly well trained enough to know that going in with a single handgun, no other weapons or distraction, no Kevlar vest, and no other protection was 'outside parameters,' as my instructors had put it. Meaning it would likely get me killed and almost certainly get Emily killed too.

It was hot, crouched down next to the window. My senses seemed sharpened. I could hear the dull roar of the ventilation fans from the office across the parking lot, the cars pa.s.sing in the street, music blaring from one. I had the feeling of time slipping through my fingers, like dreams on waking.

What would Top do?

Master Sergeant Gabriel Luther Wells had been my touchstone in Ops 4-10. Any combat situation where I had time to think, I figured out what he would do, then did it.

I could almost hear him now, his deep, steady voice calming me.

I'd once asked him what he was afraid of. His reply had been succinct-failure. If I went into the gallery and failed today, I was unlikely to be in a position to regret it. And one thing he couldn't advise me on was vampires.

The smell of them was oozing from the building, as if all their emotions made their scent thick as fog. It was a sickly, bra.s.sy smell. The word vampire pounded in my head in time with my heartbeat. The sort of creature that had bitten me in the jungle. The sort that had killed my squad. The ones who'd killed Valerie. And Marcel. My breath came quicker.

"Listen, Farrell, the SWAT team will be there in five minutes. Just hold on. Do not precipitate anything. Do not go in that building. These people are trained for this sort of situation."

So am I.

"I can't hear you, Farrell."

"I heard what you said." I was never going to get away with that evasion with Morales; he was too smart.

"Farrell, you stay where you are. You have no backup. Those men are armed. They have killed two policemen already-"

"Hold it. They're shouting now." I strained to make it out. "I don't like this."

It started with one of them shouting, and now all three were going at it. Some argument about getting away.

"Farrell, you will stay outside." Morales was shouting too, the radio distorting his voice.

Emily screamed.

My sight locked down. Everything seemed crystal clear and somehow distant. I dropped the radio. It bounced on the sidewalk, buzzing with noises that meant nothing. The main door was too far away, too obvious, too secure. Emily had run out of time. The sick b.a.s.t.a.r.ds had picked her for a snack and were getting ready to run away. They wouldn't be taking Emily with them.

I rocked back and looked at the window I'd been crouching beneath. I wasn't really planning. I had no idea what the building looked like inside, or where they were. I had nothing. It didn't matter. I hurled myself at the window and exploded through it.

Gla.s.s was still falling as I rolled and came up with the HK in front of me. The first vampire was there, standing over Emily. He was turning, his face a mask of surprise. I fired. Tap, tap, tap. The way I had been taught in Ops 4-10. Chest, chest, head, and I didn't miss at that distance.

Target Antonio down said a calm, slow voice in my mind. Two targets and nine rounds remaining.

Ten yards further in, Rodrigo leaped up an open frame set of stairs to s.n.a.t.c.h a shotgun from a pile of gear. Mistake. The only thing that would stop me was a threat to Emily, and she was lying on the floor behind Antonio's corpse, screaming, but well out of the way. I sprinted at Rodrigo, fired one shot as he ducked. My bullet went wide. I vaulted the railing rather than climb the stairs.

He backpedalled and fired. I felt the breath of the shotgun blast and fired back. I wasn't stationary, and even close up it's very difficult to sprint and shoot a handgun. I was lucky that the bullet tore at his thigh.

"s.h.i.t!" He was distracted enough. The shotgun wasn't on me. I stopped and steadied. The first of my intended three round burst hit him in the shoulder and I held the second as he spun backwards. The shotgun went off again but his aim was wild. Even hit, he moved unnervingly quickly.

He dived behind a part.i.tion.

I ran forward and jumped, tucking myself in a ball and rolling as I hit the ground. I came up into a crouch, both hands on the HK. Tap, tap, tap. s.h.i.t, he was so quick. I missed with the head shot. I had a flashback from the jungle, my team firing and missing, firing and missing. Figures like shadows in the trees.

Never make yourself a stationary target. Avoid moving where you're expected. I leaped to one side.

Raul was on the next flight of stairs up. He had a shotgun as well and he fired into the area between me and Rodrigo. I snapped a shot off at Raul to keep him occupied as I jinked again.

Rodrigo was still fighting, trying to get a clear shot even while his life blood was spurting from chest wounds. His hands shook, trying to steady. The shotgun roared again, missed, and now I was close enough. I slammed him against the wall, breaking ribs. His hand convulsed and the shotgun fired into the ceiling. His blood was all over me, spurting from wounds and spraying from his mouth as we struggled. Then I rammed the HK under his jaw and blew the back of his head off.

I twisted around, holding his body as a shield, but Raul was running. Up.

I pulled the Remington pump action from Rodrigo's dead hands. It was empty. I threw it aside.

One target and two rounds remaining.

I ran for the stairs.

The shotgun blasted a huge dent in the metal step I'd just pa.s.sed.

And again. He couldn't hit me, but I couldn't get a clear shot at him.

He was on the top floor. Was there a fire escape? He turned to look for the exit and I got my first solid shot off at him, up through the railings. I hit his calf. Straight through the muscle; I missed the bone or it would have blown him over.

He swore and lurched around to fire again.

Last bullet. I squeezed off a shot, but I was ducking as the shotgun came to bear on me again.

I dropped the HK at the same time as I heard the click of his pin on an empty chamber, and I was on him even as he tried to use the shotgun like a club.

With his leg useless, he couldn't push back against me. I lifted him. We were staggering across the room, picking up speed. There was a panoramic window in front of us.

I stopped. He didn't.

I saw him clearly, in shocking detail amidst the sparkling shards of gla.s.s. The exact point at which it registered with him that he was about to die, the widening of the eyes. The scream. An age later, the thud and the sudden silence.

I ran back down. It seemed much further. Five floors. The end of the adrenaline rush made me weak.

Emily screamed again when she saw me. I realized what I must look like, but I couldn't help that.

"They're gone, Emily," I said, trying to soothe her. "All gone."

"Amber?"

I pulled my b.l.o.o.d.y jacket off and hugged her to me.

There were bullhorns sounding outside.

She was sobbing as I sat us down.

"Shhh. It's okay. It's okay," I said. I was trembling with the aftereffects of adrenaline. "You're safe now. I've got you. The police are outside. They don't know what's happened. It'll be noisy and frightening when they come in, but you're safe now."

"Don't leave me."

"I won't. We'll go out together. Let's just lie down here on the floor, okay? Close your eyes and cover your ears."

We lay down.

Even with our precautions, the thunder and lightning of the stun grenades was disorienting. Emily cried, the noise thin, and I hugged her back against me as the SWAT team came pouring in. They were in full gear: Kevlar armor, helmets and black masks. They came from three sides at once, yelling and shouting, streaming up the stairs like large, murderous ants.

A couple of them pulled at our arms, trying to separate us. Emily refused; she wasn't letting go and they let us stay together as they hauled us to our feet. With a shield of four of them pressed close around us, we were hurried through the shattered front door, Emily's face hidden in my shirt, wetting it with her tears.

We stumbled out into a strange, frozen silence. There were police cars scattered across the road, officers with guns crouched behind them. To one side an ambulance and the SWAT team transport waited, dwarfed by an armored army truck with its doors tightly closed.

Morales and Buchanan were standing in a group of uniformed police beside the truck. So was Colonel Laine. Our eyes met and the colonel gave me the smallest nod.

Medics pulled us into the ambulance. I shrugged off their attentions. As they closed the doors, I saw Knight's face in the sea of blue shirts.

He raised his hand and said something. It might have been "well done, partner."

Chapter 21.

TUESDAY.

I drove west, out to Red Rocks, and parked where I got a view back over Denver.

With the car door open I crossed my legs and rested my feet on the sill. Warm fall air blew across me, carrying with it the promise of coolness to come.

Morales and the colonel had held an emergency meeting, slamming down a news blackout around the case until Morales' carefully worded press conference.

Today's papers had run a great story. Gangs running successful underground clubs. Outsiders muscling in, killing staff, trying to take over. Police following clues, closing in. Hitmen cornered in a building, taking a child hostage. A textbook, surgical strike by the SWAT team. A neat, orderly operation all wrapped up. Move on folks, nothing to see here.

I'd mutually agreed with the police to resign, apparently, not that any newspapers bothered with that supposedly unrelated footnote.

Morales had praise showered on him from on high. Scuttleb.u.t.t said he'd been given the Captain slot in Major Crimes last night. He knew everything the army knew about me now, and had requested for me to be on call for him as a consultant. At least no one else in the police seemed to know, though he'd already said he would have to build a team in case of emergencies and they'd have to be briefed.

The colonel disappeared with the squad before anyone started asking questions about a tooled-up military team wandering around Denver. He was coming back for a meeting with me at the end of the week. Maybe that was how much time I had left free. Morales asking for me to be on call wasn't the same as the army agreeing to it.

Club Agonia was gone. I'd walked into the echoing building with a profound sense of unreality. The entrance with the mechanized head was gone, nothing but a gaping hole left. They'd opened up huge shuttered windows on the upper floors and stripped all the black gla.s.s panels already. Bright sunbeams slanted across the empty sh.e.l.l, turning the dusty air into a slow honey. Workers were noisily dismantling the giant frames that had held the look-through gla.s.s while others carried stock out to waiting trucks. I saw Domine's elegant desk and chairs stacked in a corner, waiting for loading.

It all looked so everyday, almost tawdry, like a stage magician's props exposed to the glare of sunlight. As if everything had been an illusion. My fingers ran over the skin of my neck, and I felt a p.r.i.c.kle of pressure. No, not all illusion.

The site manager hurried over and shepherded me out. "It's not safe in here, ma'am," he said. I snorted.

As I started to move away, someone called.

"Ms. Farrell?"

I turned. It was difficult to be sure, but I thought it was the highwayman who had brought champagne for us in Domine's office. He was in jeans and a sweatshirt, looking like the college kid he probably was.

"I wasn't sure it was you," he said, stumbling over the words. He meant I wasn't dressed as a vampire. "Domine thought you might come."

I gave him a tight, polite smile, which was as much as I could manage. "She's not here?"

"She's gone on to Albuquerque," he said. "We're moving." He mumbled and waved a hand at the building. "Well, obviously."

I sighed. "I came to tell her I'm sorry. I failed."

He turned his head aside and nodded. He took an envelope from his pocket. "She left this for you."

Inside was her card with her cell number. There was no written message. Pinned through the top corner was a single, shiny barb from an angoisse.

I got out of the car and sat cross-legged on the hood to take full advantage of the breeze. Between Domine and Master Liu, I'd had my fill of mysterious warnings and messages this last week. I needed to keep it simple. There were things going on in my head and my body that I'd have to deal with. The opportunity to do that would be a privilege. Just at the moment, my head was full of staying human, free and sane. They all felt intimately related.