Read Online DIRE : SEED (The Dire Saga Book 2) by Andrew Seiple - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Andrew Seiple
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the garage, and I sighed. No, waiting wasn’t an option. Someone would notice that sooner or later. The police would be here quickly, or worse, a hero would investigate. I’d be questioned, scrutinized, and my briefcase full of illegal devices might draw some attention.
Besides, they’d shot at me. That was annoying at the best of times.
I reached under the car, slid the briefcase out again, pulling out the taser this time. If they didn’t mean to kill me, then I’d stick to nonlethal as long as I could.
Safety on, pistol in my pocket, back to the universal remote. I scrolled up the tab again, found the switch that would turn on the car alarm—
“Yeah.”
What? I went still, listened. The scanner in the briefcase flickered an OUTGOING CALL DETECTED message to my HUD.
“Yeah, no. Ain’t got her yet. We only got ten guys and a big garage to cover. Bitch brought a shotty to the meet, too.”
He was talking on a fucking cell phone. Seriously?
I considered the remote, and pocketed it. These were not professionals. These were idiots. There was no point in overthinking this.
I stood and walked up the ramp, silent in my stocking feet. With my nightvision I saw him far before he could possibly see me, turned slightly away with his phone to his ear, leaning against a pylon. I slid up within forty feet, went still, and listened.
“Yes sir. We’re on this. Bitch is wounded, just gotta finish the job quick.”
He snapped the phone shut, and at the same time I tazed him, aiming for the lower back. He dropped with a squeak, and I gave him a few more squeezes of current until he stopped thrashing. He’d live, with a hell of a headache when he woke up.
Then I picked up the phone. I flipped it open... still working, good. I’d aimed low so I wouldn’t short the thing out when I zapped him. It was a bit scuffed, but still functional.
I ignored the first number on his history, and started running down the rest of them, dialing for a couple of rings then hanging up.
Phones started ringing, above and below, and distant curses reached my ears. I snickered, and set the thing to auto-dial every thirty seconds.
This is why you use a tacnet, and not cell phones. Sweet, unsecured cell phones. I’d just revealed their positions, and thrown a spanner in their communications at the same time.
Five above, as best my audio sensors could tell, and three below. He’d said ten? Two unaccounted for then, either with phones shut off, silenced, or broken.
I left the phone where it was, jogged back to retrieve my briefcase, and went hunting.
I’d gone up against professional techno-terrorists. I’d gone up against gangers trained by a special ops soldier gone bad. I’d gone up against heroes, villains, and brain-dead vampire-things. These were dumbasses with guns, who couldn’t murder a single target with a ten-to-one advantage.
There was no contest, now that I knew what I was up against.
I had night vision, they had flashlights. The only working powered devices in the place were the elevators and the signs outside. They had too few men to cover the garage, and as I went I took out two of the three below, working my way down floor by floor, tazing and leaving them unconscious. It wasn’t quite fish in a barrel, more like frogs in a wading pool. On the second one, I noticed that I’d stopped hearing phones from above. They’d finally wised up and discarded them, or turned them off. Didn’t hear the third one either. He was either on the floor below me, or the ground floor below that.
And as I picked past the fallen fool on the floor, angling toward the ramp down, I heard a muffled ‘click-clack’ behind me.
A shotgun being racked.
I dove behind a van, as it boomed, and I felt insects sting my back as the buckshot went by, grazing and tearing my blouse and skin. Then I was up against the van, cursing myself for getting complacent. For my overconfidence, and the price I’d nearly paid for
Besides, they’d shot at me. That was annoying at the best of times.
I reached under the car, slid the briefcase out again, pulling out the taser this time. If they didn’t mean to kill me, then I’d stick to nonlethal as long as I could.
Safety on, pistol in my pocket, back to the universal remote. I scrolled up the tab again, found the switch that would turn on the car alarm—
“Yeah.”
What? I went still, listened. The scanner in the briefcase flickered an OUTGOING CALL DETECTED message to my HUD.
“Yeah, no. Ain’t got her yet. We only got ten guys and a big garage to cover. Bitch brought a shotty to the meet, too.”
He was talking on a fucking cell phone. Seriously?
I considered the remote, and pocketed it. These were not professionals. These were idiots. There was no point in overthinking this.
I stood and walked up the ramp, silent in my stocking feet. With my nightvision I saw him far before he could possibly see me, turned slightly away with his phone to his ear, leaning against a pylon. I slid up within forty feet, went still, and listened.
“Yes sir. We’re on this. Bitch is wounded, just gotta finish the job quick.”
He snapped the phone shut, and at the same time I tazed him, aiming for the lower back. He dropped with a squeak, and I gave him a few more squeezes of current until he stopped thrashing. He’d live, with a hell of a headache when he woke up.
Then I picked up the phone. I flipped it open... still working, good. I’d aimed low so I wouldn’t short the thing out when I zapped him. It was a bit scuffed, but still functional.
I ignored the first number on his history, and started running down the rest of them, dialing for a couple of rings then hanging up.
Phones started ringing, above and below, and distant curses reached my ears. I snickered, and set the thing to auto-dial every thirty seconds.
This is why you use a tacnet, and not cell phones. Sweet, unsecured cell phones. I’d just revealed their positions, and thrown a spanner in their communications at the same time.
Five above, as best my audio sensors could tell, and three below. He’d said ten? Two unaccounted for then, either with phones shut off, silenced, or broken.
I left the phone where it was, jogged back to retrieve my briefcase, and went hunting.
I’d gone up against professional techno-terrorists. I’d gone up against gangers trained by a special ops soldier gone bad. I’d gone up against heroes, villains, and brain-dead vampire-things. These were dumbasses with guns, who couldn’t murder a single target with a ten-to-one advantage.
There was no contest, now that I knew what I was up against.
I had night vision, they had flashlights. The only working powered devices in the place were the elevators and the signs outside. They had too few men to cover the garage, and as I went I took out two of the three below, working my way down floor by floor, tazing and leaving them unconscious. It wasn’t quite fish in a barrel, more like frogs in a wading pool. On the second one, I noticed that I’d stopped hearing phones from above. They’d finally wised up and discarded them, or turned them off. Didn’t hear the third one either. He was either on the floor below me, or the ground floor below that.
And as I picked past the fallen fool on the floor, angling toward the ramp down, I heard a muffled ‘click-clack’ behind me.
A shotgun being racked.
I dove behind a van, as it boomed, and I felt insects sting my back as the buckshot went by, grazing and tearing my blouse and skin. Then I was up against the van, cursing myself for getting complacent. For my overconfidence, and the price I’d nearly paid for
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