Read Online Paladin Prophecy 2: Alliance by Mark Frost - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Mark Frost
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the same room, stopping in the doorway to survey the damage inside.
A burly security guard burst through the door and headed down the stairs. Will just had time to duck back against the wall behind the door, then reached out and hooked the closing door with his foot.
He let it land softly onto the toe of his shoe, holding it open a crack as he heard more people move by inside—Rourke muttering, “Find him!” to somebody—then wedged his body closer and grabbed the door with his hand. Will listened carefully until he heard silence, then moved into the inner corridor.
This looked nothing like the rest of the medical center and more like a high-security prison. He noticed multiple security cameras overhead and he passed two other locked rooms with heavy metallic doors before he reached the open doorway.
A small sliding panel on the wall beside the door had a name written on it: L OGILVY.
Good God.
A huge, heavily mechanized hospital bed filled the center of a large square room, surrounded by monitors, gauges, and instruments scattered around it on the floor. The warm night breeze pouring in through the gap fluttered papers around. Some powerful force had bent or broken the bed’s retractable sidebars. Four metallic shackles, attached high and low where a patient’s arms and legs would have rested, had been shattered as well.
Cameras had been positioned in each corner, all focused on the bed. Will heard a helicopter approaching outside, and as the sweep of its eye-in-the-sky beam raked across the face of the building and into the room, he retreated back to the hall. He found himself leaning against the room’s door that stood open out into the corridor. It appeared, like the others he’d passed, to be made of solid steel. The side that had faced the room was gashed and heavily dented.
Whatever had slammed through the window had tried to get out this way first.
Will heard the elevator door at the end of the corridor open. He dashed away in the other direction, pushed through a door, and launched down a flight of stairs in a single leap to the landing, where he turned the corner and jumped again to the next level. Pausing there, he called up his memory of the medical center’s structure and positioned himself on its grid, then located the building’s security center and plotted the best route to get there.
Two stories down, through another door, down another corridor. When he encountered anyone, Will just put his head down and looked purposeful.
RULE #62: IF YOU DON’T WANT PEOPLE TO NOTICE YOU, ACT LIKE YOU BELONG THERE AND LOOK BUSY.
The security center lay ahead on the right. Windows in the hallway looked in on the semicircular space, dominated by banks of monitors on a horseshoe-shaped desk. Two guards and Eloni gathered around them as another worked a nearby keyboard. Seeing Eloni, Will pushed through the door into the room almost without thinking because he knew what they were watching and he needed to see what was on that monitor.
It was the recorded feed from the room he’d just left. Lights in the room were low, but the video was high-quality digital that revealed lots of detail. Will entered in time to see a tall raggedy figure with long scraggly hair rip the shackle off one of its wrists.
Will felt like he’d been punched in the chest. That face. The way he set his shoulders.
Lyle. Transformed. Taller, leaner, disheveled, but his body language and imperious bearing unmistakably Lyle-esque.
With another yank, the figure pulled its other arm free from the remaining shackle, then moved off camera. A moment later he heard fierce pounding on the metallic door. Then in a blur of motion, the figure formerly known as Lyle Ogilvy reappeared, rushing headlong across the room. It lowered its shoulder like a fullback and crashed into the reinforced windows. The entire section exploded outward and the figure dropped out of sight.
Eloni looked around and realized Will was standing there. He immediately
A burly security guard burst through the door and headed down the stairs. Will just had time to duck back against the wall behind the door, then reached out and hooked the closing door with his foot.
He let it land softly onto the toe of his shoe, holding it open a crack as he heard more people move by inside—Rourke muttering, “Find him!” to somebody—then wedged his body closer and grabbed the door with his hand. Will listened carefully until he heard silence, then moved into the inner corridor.
This looked nothing like the rest of the medical center and more like a high-security prison. He noticed multiple security cameras overhead and he passed two other locked rooms with heavy metallic doors before he reached the open doorway.
A small sliding panel on the wall beside the door had a name written on it: L OGILVY.
Good God.
A huge, heavily mechanized hospital bed filled the center of a large square room, surrounded by monitors, gauges, and instruments scattered around it on the floor. The warm night breeze pouring in through the gap fluttered papers around. Some powerful force had bent or broken the bed’s retractable sidebars. Four metallic shackles, attached high and low where a patient’s arms and legs would have rested, had been shattered as well.
Cameras had been positioned in each corner, all focused on the bed. Will heard a helicopter approaching outside, and as the sweep of its eye-in-the-sky beam raked across the face of the building and into the room, he retreated back to the hall. He found himself leaning against the room’s door that stood open out into the corridor. It appeared, like the others he’d passed, to be made of solid steel. The side that had faced the room was gashed and heavily dented.
Whatever had slammed through the window had tried to get out this way first.
Will heard the elevator door at the end of the corridor open. He dashed away in the other direction, pushed through a door, and launched down a flight of stairs in a single leap to the landing, where he turned the corner and jumped again to the next level. Pausing there, he called up his memory of the medical center’s structure and positioned himself on its grid, then located the building’s security center and plotted the best route to get there.
Two stories down, through another door, down another corridor. When he encountered anyone, Will just put his head down and looked purposeful.
RULE #62: IF YOU DON’T WANT PEOPLE TO NOTICE YOU, ACT LIKE YOU BELONG THERE AND LOOK BUSY.
The security center lay ahead on the right. Windows in the hallway looked in on the semicircular space, dominated by banks of monitors on a horseshoe-shaped desk. Two guards and Eloni gathered around them as another worked a nearby keyboard. Seeing Eloni, Will pushed through the door into the room almost without thinking because he knew what they were watching and he needed to see what was on that monitor.
It was the recorded feed from the room he’d just left. Lights in the room were low, but the video was high-quality digital that revealed lots of detail. Will entered in time to see a tall raggedy figure with long scraggly hair rip the shackle off one of its wrists.
Will felt like he’d been punched in the chest. That face. The way he set his shoulders.
Lyle. Transformed. Taller, leaner, disheveled, but his body language and imperious bearing unmistakably Lyle-esque.
With another yank, the figure pulled its other arm free from the remaining shackle, then moved off camera. A moment later he heard fierce pounding on the metallic door. Then in a blur of motion, the figure formerly known as Lyle Ogilvy reappeared, rushing headlong across the room. It lowered its shoulder like a fullback and crashed into the reinforced windows. The entire section exploded outward and the figure dropped out of sight.
Eloni looked around and realized Will was standing there. He immediately
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