The Gender Lie (The Gender Game #3) Page 7

  Even though we were using silencers, the wardens would figure out what was going on in a few minutes, especially if they found the guard. We paused long enough to shove the guard’s body under a desk. I grabbed his jacket from the chair and used it to wipe up the trail of blood as best I could. I felt a sharp tug of regret and took a moment to close the man’s eyelids, his blank expression seeming almost accusatory in my eyes.

  I took a deep breath and met Solomon’s steady gaze, turning my mind back to the mission.

  Which room did Thomas say it was in? he asked me.

  I knew exactly where it was, but I pulled my arm up and gazed at the handheld that I had secured to it.

  Straight down the hall, right turn down the next hall, third door on the left, I reminded him.

  He nodded and pressed forward in a crouching walk, keeping his body low to the ground. I followed, my gun pulled up. I gave one last look at the man under the desk as I did so, hoping that I wouldn’t have to pull the trigger, and that his death would be the first and last on this mission.

  11

  Violet

  We had made it halfway down the hall when the sound of approaching footsteps forced us to halt. I leaned forward and tried the door directly in front of us, but the doorknob refused to turn.

  What now? I asked Solomon.

  I saw his reply as he quickly backtracked, his boots barely making a sound. I followed closely, and then watched as he shoved his gun and bag under the desk before activating his suit, disappearing in front of my eyes. I hurried to do the same, the footsteps approaching much more quickly than I was comfortable with.

  It had taken a while to get used to the suit. Owen had explained that it acted as an electrical conduit when a user activated it by tensing muscles. Once they did, it allowed the wearer to go invisible. He had explained that it would also camouflage any organic matter it came into contact with, which was why we didn’t have to wear face masks or gloves, but it wouldn’t work on inorganic items that weren’t under the suit. Which was why we weren’t wearing bulletproof vests: It wouldn’t work on them, and they were too bulky to go underneath. According to Owen, the scientists were working on a way of inserting plates in the suit, but the material used to craft it was rare and difficult to get, so it was slow going. It wasn’t perfect—flashlights and thermal scanners would register a user regardless; however, it did allow people to turn invisible—provided they weren’t holding something. If they were, it would look like the object was floating in midair.

  At first, activating the suit had hurt—it created a sharp pins-and-needles sensation across the entirety of my skin. However, once I had gotten used to it, Owen and I had run through drills, from anything as simple as eating a bowl of food to more complicated drills that involved running, opening a door… basically anything where movement was required. I’d learnt rudimentary control over the suit, although interacting with objects was difficult when I tried to pair it with moving.

  Almost immediately I felt the corresponding tingle as the suit engaged. The electric thrill that coursed under my skin to all of my extremities might have become less painful with practice, but it was still weird. It felt like after my foot had gone to sleep, trying to force blood back into the area. It was a constant barrage of prickling, all over my body.

  I focused on my breathing and kept my eyes on the hall in front of me. I wanted to avoid moving—my control over the suit was still tenuous.

  The sound of the boots on the floor became a cacophony of rolling thunder down the narrow hall. I pressed up against the wall—a small movement that almost broke my concentration—just as one man walked in, holding a flashlight. I refrained from wincing and held my breath, watching the beam of his light as he swung it around the room.

  The beam swept toward me, and I prepared myself to leap at him as soon as it interacted with the suit, hoping that the sudden appearance of me in the darkness would surprise him enough that I could get an advantage over him. Hopefully, Solomon would get involved as well—we had sparred a few times and he was a solid brawler.

  It made me wish we had opted to enter these buildings while cloaked, but we had discussed using it as a backup plan. There were two main reasons for that: the first was that the suits were the Liberators’ most carefully guarded secret. They were only issued full-time to Desmond, Owen, Solomon, and a few others—the rest were handed out before missions, and Owen had explained to me that if one of us were killed on a mission, we were expected to cut the suits off of them. Or burn the bodies if there wasn’t enough time. Personally, I liked the second option better—there was something fundamentally wrong about stripping a dead body.

  Using them, especially on camera, was only allowed in desperate situations, and if there did happen to be cameras, we had to go out of our way to destroy any and all footage.

  The second reason was simply one of functionality. It didn’t matter how strong I was, my muscles had limits. Eventually, they would relax, and I would reappear. There was a contest among the Liberators, who could stay cloaked the longest when standing, moving, or even fighting. Owen held all three records. He could maintain the cloak while standing still for over an hour, while walking for half of that, and for five whole minutes while fighting or interacting with objects.

  The beam had slowed to a stop, and I slowly released the breath I had been holding until I realized it was pointed at the unmoving foot of the guard we had killed. I tensed my already tense muscles as the guard slowly made his way over to body, his hand on the butt of his pistol.

  “McGee,” he whispered, his eyes darting about.

  McGee, of course, did not answer. After a second, the man moved his hand off his gun, switched the flashlight to his other hand, and pulled out his radio.

  “Sir, Gustoff here,” he said, taking a slow, measured step back.

  “Go ahead,” replied a tiny muted voice through the speaker.

  “Sir, we have a code red—I just found McGee’s body. He’s been shot.”

  There was a long pause. “Are there any signs of the perpetrators?”

  “Negative, sir. I must have passed them on my sweep. Or they’ve fled.”

  “Retrace your steps slowly. I’m sending Murtaugh and Lowens to sweep up from our end and see if we can’t trap them between us. Be careful though, and don’t shoot at one of ours.”

  “Roger,” Gustoff said, before hooking his radio to his belt. He carefully switched hands again and slowly pulled out his pistol, turning around to head down the hall.

  I was moving before he had even gone a step, quickly closing the gap between us. I was quite proud—I made it halfway there before I lost control of the suit. As I strode past the desk, I snagged a heavy-looking paper weight. The guard tensed, his body starting to turn toward me, when I lifted my arm and slammed the weight down hard on his skull.

  He dropped like a bag of potatoes, his gun clacking loudly on the ground. I looked around and quickly grabbed him under the armpits. Solomon appeared next to me.

  You all right? he asked, moving to the guard’s feet. I nodded and we quickly moved him out of the way.

  We need to move quickly—you heard the transmission.

  Solomon hesitated. Violet, more guards are coming. They know something’s going on. We should scrub the mission.

  I checked the channel and breathed a sigh of relief that he hadn’t transmitted that to Owen, only to me. We are not leaving, I said, staring him down. I didn’t come all this way to give up. Either follow me or don’t, but we need to move. Now!

  Solomon’s jaw tightened, but he quickly reached down and grabbed his bag. We pulled our gear back on and began moving down the corridor again.

  It didn’t seem to occur to Solomon that we should notify Owen, but as we moved down the hall, I clicked over to Owen’s channel.

  Owen.

  There was a pause. Vi? Why—

  Never mind that, I interrupted, my eyes on the hall. Listen, another guard found the dead guard and alerted others by
radio. I took him down but it’s too late. I paused a moment, and then continued. You also need to know that Solomon and I are pressing forward, even though we know it’s against protocol.

  There was an even longer pause and then a click. Vi, I can safely say I am not happy with this, and knowing Solomon, he’s less than pleased as well. But if he’s still with you, then we’ll proceed. If he gets hurt...

  Understood, I replied, and then clicked back over to Solomon’s channel as we continued to move down the halls.

  Pausing at each door to make sure it was locked or that there wasn’t anyone hiding inside was a slow process which made me feel the passage of time acutely. It felt like hours by the time we reached the correct door, but in reality, it was only a matter of minutes. Luckily, it seemed that the group from the back was taking their time—I still hadn’t heard the faintest whisper of movement from up ahead.

  I stood over Solomon, my rifle trained down the hallway, while he used the automatic lock pick to open the door. He gave it a twist once it stopped whirring, and the door swung open. He slid inside and I backed in behind him, keeping my rifle on the hall until I had closed the door.

  I let the weapon drop as soon as the door was closed. We were lucky—many of the offices in the building had massive glass windows that allowed people to look into the rooms. This room, however, was completely enclosed. There wasn’t even a window on the door. If we were lucky, they would never know we were inside.

  My elation over the room was quickly dampened when I turned around and saw the staggering amount of boxes. Searching every single one would take forever.

  Solomon was already sliding his knife through the tape securing the cardboard cartons. I frowned, and examined one of the boxes. They were devoid of writing except for a series of handwritten numbers on the top. Looking around the room, I saw a clipboard dangling from a nail and fetched it.

  It was a list of numbers, followed by a description of each item contained within.

  Solomon—look at the numbers. There are only a few boxes that have medical supplies listed within the contents.

  He stopped and looked at me. Okay. There are a lot of boxes, Violet—can you narrow it down any more?

  I scanned the numbers. Most of the first five digits were the same—it was the final four that were different. Look for boxes ending in 4546, 5332, or 8991.

  He started sifting through the boxes, and I did the same, humming the numbers in my head to remember them. I found the first box under three other boxes in the second stack.

  I got 5332, I conveyed to Solomon. I set it aside and pulled out my knife, cutting through the tape and cardboard. I shuffled around the contents of the box, looking for something, anything, that vaguely resembled the picture that Thomas had supplied of the laser. The box was filled mostly with vials of medicine and boxes of syringes.

  I placed it aside just as I heard Solomon’s knife cutting through another box.

  Which is that? I subvocalized, turning back to the stacks.

  8991, he replied, ripping the box open. I continued to scan the other boxes, looking for box number 4546 in the midst of the chaos. After a moment, Solomon’s voice came through my ear bud. Not here.

  I could feel the tension coiling around us. Every second we were in the room was a second too long. I eased myself through two stacks of boxes, being careful not to press against them more than necessary. They were precariously stacked, and swayed under my passage.

  Solomon turned to see what I was up to, his expression incredulous. I winced as I finally got through, expelling the breath I had sucked in to make myself thinner.

  There were more boxes piled up in front of me, and I scanned them quickly. I found the last box, number 4546, under several boxes. As quietly as I could, I moved the other boxes aside, and pulled out my knife again.

  I cut through the tape and felt disgusted as I gazed at the clear plastic tubing for IVs.

  It’s not here! I subvocalized, my frustration evident even though the vocalizer.

  Then Owen will get it. Pass me your bag. And your gun too. Quickly, Vi! I can hear them coming.

  I paused, and then heard what he heard—the distinct sound of boots on the linoleum in the hall. I pushed the bag through the small gap between the boxes. Solomon grabbed it, and then reached for the gun.

  The footsteps were growing closer and I hesitated—if I pushed through the gap before they opened the door, there was a chance that they would see the boxes still moving when they opened it.

  Go invisible, I ordered, as I sat down my gun and engaged my suit.

  Solomon quickly placed both of our bags on the floor, as well as his gun, and faded from view. I risked a small amount of movement as I stepped a little bit further behind the stack, the pins and needles tingling through my extremities.

  The door handle was starting to turn, and I saw a crack appear in the door as it swung open, emitting a light too bright to be anything but a flashlight. I held my breath, hoping that Solomon had thought to move behind a stack of boxes.

  I ducked my head behind a box, my heart thudding loudly against my ribcage. I gently eased my back against the box and watched the circular light as it panned slowly toward me. A sudden ripple started as the light neared the center of the room, allowing me to see Solomon’s eyes filled with horror.

  12

  Violet

  A loud burst of static made Solomon, me, and the light emitted by the flashlight jump to the left. I heard a loud curse, and the sound of a hand slapping against fabric. The light danced against the wall, just to the left of Solomon’s position.

  Get down slowly, I ordered, unable to make him out.

  I didn’t know if he followed my order, because another burst of static sounded, followed by, “I’ve got three hostiles in Warehouse B. They seem to be –”

  There was a loud sound, and then a panicked series of transmissions.

  “Shots fired! Man down! We need backup.”

  Through the walls, I could hear the sound of rapidly retreating footsteps, followed by the soft popping of gunfire. I leaned out and saw that the door was wide open and the guards were gone. I relaxed my tensed muscles, and I saw Solomon doing the same.

  There was another burst of gunfire, and I quickly switched over to the main channel. Owen, what’s going on?

  There was a momentary pause, and then—Quinn was pulling a box and the stack shifted, alerting a guard. We’re handling it.

  Owen, more are coming to you.

  Yes, Violet, I am aware. We only have a few more boxes to search.

  I paused, my mind working. Is there anything in there we could use as a distraction? To buy you more time?

  It was Quinn who responded. Actually, funny that you should bring that up, Violet—there’s an entire crate of explosives in here…

  No, I countermanded, my mind racing. However… any way you could rig a small charge?

  There was a pause, before Owen responded. I see what you’re getting at. Quinn’s on it. Our timeline is all messed up though. Thoughts?

  I looked at my watch. We had agreed on ten minutes because that was how long it would take for roadblocks to come up after our burglary. Not from me, but I’m guessing Thomas has an idea. Thomas?

  Well… as a matter of fact… I think I can buy you guys… five more minutes?

  I crunched some numbers in my head. That gives us eight. How much time does Quinn need?

  Quinn is already ready, said Quinn, in that smug way that made me roll my eyes.

  I checked the diagram of my map, thinking. The building we were in was small, but ran rampant with hallways. It would take us about two minutes to clear the building. You said reinforcements were coming?

  Yes, Owen replied. They should be there any minute. Most of them will probably divert to us, but I’m betting a few will stay in that building with you.

  I studied the map. They’ll come in through the front, so we’ll continue our plan to head out the back and over to you. We’ll be abou
t two minutes. Once I give you the all clear, blow the charge.

  Sounds good—we’ll detonate as soon as—

  Suddenly, a high-pitched screeching filled the ear piece, loud enough for me to pull it out of my ear. Solomon did the same.

  “What’s that?” I whispered, still flinching from the sound, my finger massaging my ear.

  Solomon shoved his ear bud into his pocket. “They’re jamming us. We need to get moving now.”

  He handed me my belongings and moved toward the door. I quickly slung on the backpack and rifle over my shoulders. I came up behind him and tapped his shoulder. He slowly opened the door, revealing the empty hallway before us.

  I tapped him again, and we moved deeper into the building.

  I grabbed Solomon by the arm, pulling him down just in time to be missed by the guard who had been prowling through the stacks. We had made it to the open storage space at the rear of the building, but the place was crawling with guards. We had been delayed four times in the last three minutes just avoiding them.

  I was sweating, the fear of the mission causing a massive spike in my adrenaline. If we didn’t find a way out of this room soon, we were going to be forced to shoot our way out, and I still wanted to avoid that if possible.

  As the guard moved on, I wiped my forehead with the back of my hand.

  Where do we go, Violet? Solomon subvocalized.

  I looked over at Solomon, who was also sweating, and pulled up my handheld. I dimmed the screen as much as I could and cupped my hand around it to hide as much of the glare as possible.

  There were only two ways out of this area—the way we came in, and the door at the back of the building. I was scrolling through the other blueprint images, trying to find anything that would help us, when Solomon nudged me.

  Looking over to where he was pointing, I saw a gray vent at the base of the wall, about ten feet away. Immediately, images of the vents in The Green’s facility flashed through my head. I looked over at him, giving him an emphatic no in the form of a headshake.