Turnabout r-8 Read online

  «Your duplicates» Langley snarled. «They could have been you. They could have been better than you. I could have given them so much! But I let them reject me, let them go off on their own. Because my life became more important to me than theirs.» Max started to speak. «If it was their choice " «They didn't know any better," Langley said, interrupting him. «1 should have forced them to see.» He stalked out of the room, jagged shards of glass crunching underneath his bare feet. He didn't seem to notice the crimson footprints he was leaving across the plush cream-colored carpeting. Max felt something rip loose within his chest and realized he was crying again. But he knew that grief over Lonnie's death hadn't summoned the tears this time. Instead, it was the knowledge that Isabel was safe. His sister had beaten the horrible fate that Liz had glimpsed. But Lonnie's death will eat at you, a small but resolute voice in his mind told him. And that's just one more thing that the Special Unit will have to answer for. Isabel was feeling much better, but she still had no explanation for what had happened during Kyle's mindlink just before the jet had landed. When she returned to consciousness, she was lying on the floor of the plane, with Jesse and the others hovering over her, concerned. But despite a few lingering phantom pains in her skull, her worst complaint was the bloody nose she'd received when she'd fallen from the seat. The plane had landed without incident. As promised, Brody had arranged a limousine at the private airfield, and it whisked the quartet away the moment they had gotten what little they had with them unloaded from the airplane. She saw that fatigue had finally caught up with Kyle, and he had been asleep from the moment he'd sat down in the limo. Luckily, he didn't snore much, though Isabel did wish that he would close his mouth. Shelby also seemed to be wavering between alertness and semiconsciousness, despite all the coffee she had consumed. Caffeine crash, Isabel thought, glad she'd never gotten herself quite as hooked on the stuff as Shelby apparently was. Jesse had given the limo driver the new address where they were to meet, and was now using the car phone to call Brody Davis. «Yeah, sorry to call you so late," Jesse said, his voice low and reassuring. «We had to make an unscheduled stop in Chicago. We picked up Kyle and Isabel there.» He paused and listened. «Yes, they're both fine.» He listened for another moment and said, «Yeah, that is good news. I'll let them know. Just don't do anything you'll need a lawyer to get you out of. All the suits are out here.» Jesse paused again, and his expression grew serious. «Listen, Brody, there's been a change of plans here. Max and the others are already in Los Angeles. They've been thinking along the same lines we have, and they're meeting with some powerful media people now. We're still trying to find the best way out of this situation, so we aren't going to go to the people you suggested just yet. We'll meet with Max's, um, media contacts first.» Isabel shifted in her seat and squeezed Jesse's hand as he stopped to listen again. Finally, he said, «Yes, I know. It's going to work out, one way or the other. Valenti and Agent Duff are going to join us too. Yes, we got a message to them. Listen, Brody, I need to ring off here.» He paused. «Good, yes, I'll keep you updated as things progress. And thank you again for all your help.» After Jesse hung up the phone, Isabel asked, «How's he doing?» «Sounds positively giddy over the material Valenti and Duff brought him from the Special Unit safe house. If we do decide that exposing the group is the thing to do, he's got a lot of ammunition there. And probably lots more, once somebody hacks into those hard drives.» Isabel snuggled up against Jesse. She still wasn't certain that «outing» themselves as aliens living on Earth was such a good idea. If the Special Unit forced them to play that card, what chance would she and Jesse have at a normal life afterward? She hoped with all her heart that they could find some workable alternative. She just couldn't imagine what that alternative might be. As she landed the helicopter, Duff was aware that this was the second time in the last twenty-four hours that she had touched down on the property of someone whose financial worth probably exceeded her lifetime earning potential, tripled. This knowledge made the horrendous damage the heavy aircraft was causing to Langley's carefully manicured lawn what little she could see of it resembled the golf course at Pebble Beach much less distressing for her. Of course, it wasn't that she disliked rich people; she just wished that the socioeconomic playing field were a bit more level. It would be nice if these suckers really had to work for their money, she thought as she clambered down from the chopper. Inside the mansion, she finally met Langley, whom Jim Valenti had described to her as the movie-producer-whowas-secretly-an-alien. She was also introduced to Jesse Ramirez, Shelby Tremaine, and some of the others she hadn't officially «met» back in Roswell when she'd been working the Laurie Dupree case. Everyone looked really, really tired, and as she listened to the general discussion of the last two days' adventures, she understood why. Maria DeLuca returned from the other room, where she had been talking to her mother on one of Langley's secure phones. Duff smiled at her, and the two of them surveyed the room and its various conversational groupings. «So, what do you think?» Maria asked. «Of?» «Of our ever-expanding 'I Know an Alien' society," Maria said, deadpan. «I think it's outgrown the 'Pod Squad' nickname, now that it's over ten people. Pretty soon we'll need to issue membership cards.» Duff smiled. «Truthfully, Tm a little weirded out by it all. I mean, I'm doing this fighting the Special Unit because I think it's right. But if my girlfriend knew what this 'assignment' was really all about, I bet she'd throw me and my cats out on our collective butts.» «Aren't you a little worried that something could happen to you here?» Maria asked. Duff had considered that. She'd pulled some strings and seriously fudged the requisition paperwork in order to get the chopper and come this far; how public would her involvement in this matter become if they really did manage to blow the lid off the Special Unit? It was one reason she had worn a mask during the raid on the safe house. Only the people on my side can really know what kind of shadow world I've gotten myself involved in here, she thought. The safest course jor me is to keep my face out ojit and return the chopper in one piece, and with the gas tank full. She realized that while she had been woolgathering, Maria was still patiently waiting for an answer. «Sorry," Duff said with an uncertain smile. «I guess you've got me thinking hard about the consequences of all this. But you know, I have to believe that everything's going to turn out well. If I don't believe that, I won't be able to face whatever's ahead.» Maria nodded. «That's what I keep telling myself, too. On the other hand, I don't seem to be all that useful around here. I don't have cool alien powers or Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon fighting skills, or a boss black chopper, or lots of money, or a media empire. What am I gonna do sing for the troops?» Duff patted her on the back. «Never underestimate the importance of morale. I have a hunch you'll end up playing a bigger role in all this than you might think.» Later, everyone began filing into Langley's large, richly appointed study. Langley sat at one end of the long table, while Max sat at the other. Max felt even less like a leader than he usually did. After all, Duff, Valenti, and Langley each had far more experience and knowledge than he did. But he was determined to rise to their level rather than let his indecision paralyze him or the cause they were all fighting for. Duff was busy working at an experimental high-tech Macintosh that hadn't been released yet to the public; it was plugged into a wall-mounted DSL line. «Even with all my clearance codes, this is as far as I can get without a password," she said, frowning at the screen. «I don't know if I'm gonna be able to sneak us into that Special Unit base or not.» «Hand me the communicator orb," Langley said, sounding calm and confident. Michael slid the heavy alien device across the oak tabletop toward Langley, oblivious to several winces and glares as everyone watched to see if it scratched the polished wood. Langley held the orb over Duff's computer screen, and the curlicue symbol on top of the stone immediately began to glow. In the air in front of the screen, lights spelled out a set of letters and numbers. «There's your password," the former alien protector said. «Cool," Kyle said. «You mean those rocks can figure out any computer password?» «Yes, and
decipher just about any language," Langley said. «They are called 'communicator orbs' for a reason.» «We just thought they were for contacting Antar or something," Isabel said. «That was how we received the message from our mother.» «You were in the cave, near the Granilith then, weren't you?» Langley asked. «I guess.» «The message you received just happened to be what the stones channeled from inside the cave," Langley explained. «In fact, the message was actually in the Granilith. And, unfortunately, unlocking that message is what set off the ken-teej signals all over the world. Because of that, every resident alien on the planet found out that somebody had activated the Granilith. Thankfully, very few of them knew where it was located.» «Got it," Duff said, interrupting Langley's lecture. «I have the address and some other information about the local Special Unit base.» «Are there floor plans or schematics?» Valenti asked. «Yes, I'm downloading them now. And I've got Damn!» Duff punched at the keys. «Damn! Damn!» Langley and Liz quickly moved behind Duff as she continued furiously punching keys. Suddenly, she turned and yanked the DSL cable out of the wall. «What?» Max said. «They must have some watchdog program guarding the site," Duff said, frustration evident in her voice. «Looks like I missed it somehow. I'm sorry. I got as much as I could.» «Can they trace you back to here, or do you think your 'pulling the plug' trick worked?» Langley asked, sounding annoyed. «There's no way to tell for sure," Duff said, clearly not appreciating Langleys tone. «If some guys in black body armor kick your door down tonight, then you'll know.» Langley sighed and looked beseechingly at the ceiling. «Great. Lovely. Perfect.» Max cleared his throat loudly enough to make everyone present pause and look his way. «I'd say it's high time we got down to business. Langleys got people aliens, mercenaries, and even a few alien mercenaries who can help us mount a direct attack on the Special Unit base. «Of course, that's how Langley wants to handle it, and I suspect many of you do as well. But that's a dangerous option, and it may get more of us captured, or worse. We also have no way of knowing if we'll get our parents out alive, or if we'll be able to stop the Special Unit once and for all.» Max continued, seeing that no one was making a move to interrupt him. «Langley has also got media people who will help us if we decide to 'out' the Special Unit which also means letting the world know that Isabel, Michael, and I are aliens. That's the plan my dad was working on, the plan that Shelby and Jesse are ready to implement, the plan that Brody is willing to help with. But that could boomerang back on us too. We would lose our anonymity and still not get our parents back alive. They covXd just 'disappear' while we might face a whole new set of problems.» He stood up and laid his hands flat on the table, looking at every person around the table, one by one. «The time to strike back against the Special Unit has to be now. But the question remains: Exactly how do we go about it?» «Don't forget," Langley said to Max, «we have a very potent secret weapon, right here in this room. As long as we're not afraid to use it, that is.» The producer glanced significantly at both Isabel and Kyle. «What do you mean?» Max asked, frowning. Langley shook his head as though his notion should have been perfectly obvious. Then he offered a quick explanation. Reactions around the room were mixed as everyone began talking at once. Max sincerely hoped Langley's «secret weapon» would remain an untested idea. But he was quickly beginning to doubt that he'd be so lucky. 14. Over the past several months, Max had found himself growing more and more dependent upon Michael's innate strength and capacity to make decisions. After all, during his previous life as Rath, Michael had led all the military forces of Antar. Max had also become increasingly uncomfortable with the notion of being the groups default leader whenever life-and-death choices had to be made in a hurry. But today was different. Taking charge felt right to Max, as though he had finally begun living up to whatever destiny awaited him wherever that destiny, and his own careful choices, ultimately took him. «Okay, Langley's secret brain-bomb weapon aside, something tells me you've already cooked up a plan for taking on the MiBs," Maria said, looking first at Max, then at everyone else assembled. «So how do you propose to deploy our little Slayer Army, O King of Antar?» Max saw in Maria's eyes a look of expectation that belied the flippancy of her words. The rest of the group Liz, Isabel, Michael, Kyle, Langley, Valenti, Jesse, Shelby, and Agent Duff stood about Max in a loose semicircle in Langley's luxurious study, each of them also watching him with evident anticipation. King ojAntar, Max thought, thinking of the previous life about which he knew so little. That life lay decades in the past and light-years away; despite his alien-hybrid powers, he was only Max Evans now. The butterflies of indecision began returning to his insides. «We really have only one good option," he said, trying to inject confidence into his voice. He smiled with mild surprise as he discovered that the feeling was genuine. «And that option is?» prompted Michael, one eyebrow raised. Is he waiting for me to become indecisive so he can take charge again? Max wondered. That unseemly thought caused him a brief pang of guilt, and he pushed the notion away as unworthy. He knew that Michael only wanted whatever was best for the group, just as he did. «It's to attack the Special Unit on two fronts at once," Max continued. «I'll lead some of you on a direct assault on the Special Unit stronghold. But some of you will have to stay here.» «We're stronger if we stick together, Maxwell," Michael said. «Especially since this might just end up being our last stand.» «Way to be positive, Spaceboy," Maria said, favoring Michael with a withering scowl. He shrugged, shaking his shoulder-length hair behind him. «I'm just saying.» «If it is our last stand, then I'm going to make damn sure it's theirs as well," Max said, meeting Michael's intense yet somehow wistful gaze. Did his old friend really see so little hope in their future? It's up to me to do something about that, Max thought, taking a protracted moment to study each and every one of the silent faces of those who had gathered to fight on his side in the coming war. «You're right, Michael," he said at length. «We are strongest when we're together. And we'll all be working together only not from the same place.» Liz nodded. «There's no point in putting all our eggs in one basket. But if you think I'm going to be anywhere except at your side, Max, then you've got another think com " Holding up his hand, Max interrupted her. «I'm going to need you with me, Liz.» She blinked in surprise. «You will?» «Your precognitive powers and your other abilities might come in handy," he said, feeling queasy about the possibility of putting his wife into harm's way. We're all in harm's way as long as the Special Unit is gunning for us, he reminded himself, and as long as they're holding Mom and Dad and the Parkers. «I hope so," Liz said, looking pained. Maria noticed Liz's discomfiture. «What's wrong?» «I've had a couple of flashes over the past hour," Liz said, shrugging. «But it's all a jumble. All I see is what looks like a pure white room. And I sense a feeling of fear. And anger.» «Nuts," Maria said. «White rooms, fear, and anger are never good together.» «Are you sure you're the one who's in the white room?» Max wanted to know. Liz smiled weakly. «I'm not sure of much of anything at this point. It's all a confusing hodgepodge, like it was filmed by those Blair Witch guys. Looks like these new alien powers have failed me in the clinch.» «Speak for yourself, O Seer," Kyle said, grinning. He was standing beside the table, idly examining the alien, stonelike communicator orbs that Eddie had given them while the group had been en route to Los Angeles. «I'm starting to feel like I can do practically anything. Like I'm ready to take on the entire Brotherhood of Evil Mutants all by myself.» «Calling all geeks," Maria said, rolling her eyes. «We're in the real world here, Kyle. Care to participate?» «What's your specific plan for splitting up our forces?» Valenti asked Max, his craggy face somber as he stepped on Kyle's rejoinder in an obvious effort to get the conversation back on track. «And are you really sure it's wise?» Max knew he wasn't sure. But he also knew that he had to be, or had to seem to be, sure. «Absolutely," he said. «No point throwing everything we have right at their front door," Duff said, nodding in agreement. «Especially when the hack I just did on their computer might have warned them that we're coming.» «Don't
forget," Langley said. «I've got access to mercenaries as well as media folk. A small army, if you need it.» Max shook his head. «That's fighting them on their terms. We'll lose that kind of war.» And risk becoming just like them in the process. «So we don't take them on in a straight fight," Langley said, nodding. «That implies doing something sneaky. I'm down with that. I can do sneaky, especially if it keeps the Feds from kicking down my very expensively carved tropical hardwood door.» Michael nodded as well, looking every inch the Antarian general, despite his rock-star haircut. «Asymmetrical warfare. I'm down with that, too.» The Valentis, junior and senior, looked at each other uncomfortably. Max could see that the lopsidedness of the coming battle was uppermost on the deputy's mind, while Kyle a practicing Buddhist was no doubt troubled by the thought of having to take part in serious violence. «This war may not be as 'asymmetrical' as you might think," Duff said, pointing toward the black body armor that encased her torso. «I took the liberty of stashing a few extra Iron Man suits in the back of the chopper. Even if we go down fighting, our strike team is gonna give as good as it gets. We do it right, they won't even see us comin'.» «The question is, who goes on this little raid?» Jim Valenti asked, brushing a piece of lint from the body armor he was still wearing. «Besides me, that is.» «Try and stop me," Duff said, grinning first at Valenti, then at Max. «I'm right beside you, Maxwell," Michael said. «And I'm right beside you, Spaceboy," said Maria. She turned to Duff. «Do those stormtrooper outfits come in any other colors? Accessorizing properly is half the battle, you know.» «Slow down, Maria," Michael said, placing his hands on Maria's shoulders. «You are not coming with us. It's way too dangerous.» She swatted his hands away with both of her own. «Need I remind you that the MiBs might be on their way here even as we speak? It isn't like I'll be a whole lot safer here.» «I'll keep an eye on her while the rest of you are gone," Langley said. «MiBs or no MiBs.» Max shook his head. «No, you won't. You're on the strike team too. I'm going to need your firepower.» «Firepower schmirepower. I'm an alien protector. A behind-the-cameras kind of guy. Watching over people is what I'm supposed to do. Not fight in guerrilla wars.» «One of the people you were supposed to watch over just died in that Special Unit facility," Isabel said, her eyes flashing angrily at Langley. «Crap," the producer said with a resigned sigh, gazing contemplatively into the deep pile carpet. His jaw muscles worked in silence for a moment, as duty, remorse, and fear appeared to wrestle within him. Then he turned to Max. «I don't suppose it would do any good to try to convince you that bringing me along would be a huge mistake?» «No," Max said simply. «Complete waste of time, in fact. So let's just skip it.» «You know, being genetically programmed to follow your orders really bites. I feel like a freakin'Jem'Hadar soldier from Star Trefe.» '«Resistance is futile,'" Michael quoted with a smirk. «Wrong alien race," Kyle said. «You're thinking of those cyborg guys who " «Enough with the geek-off, already!» Maria shouted, interrupting Kyle. She jabbed an accusatory finger toward Max. «This is a clear case of alien chauvinism! You're trying to keep me sidelined because I can't shoot thunderbolts out of my fingertips, or play peepshow with other people's dreams.» Max saw Isabel begin a slow burn at that. «It has nothing to do with that," he said, gesturing toward Jim Valenti and Agent Duff. «Last time I checked, the deputy and I were both plain old garden-variety humans," Duff said. «Knock on wood," Kyle added, sotto voce, looking straight at his father, obviously referring to the alien powers Max's healing ability had already bestowed upon both Kyle and Liz and that might one day also give the senior Valenti metahuman talents of some sort. Maria apparently hadn't heard Kyle, and wasn't buying the argument that Duff and Max were selling. «The only reason those two get a pass on your 'non-aliens need not apply' policy is the cool armor and weapons they're packing.» «That's not fair, Maria," Max said, feeling his patience beginning to fray. «I can wear body armor," she pleaded. «And I can handle a gun too. I still have one of the pistols we took from those federal agents in Cheyenne. I even figured out how to take it apart and put it back together again.» «Kind of amazing we haven't had more 'friendly fire' accidents, then," Michael said, tossing a sideways grin toward Max. She glared daggers at Michael. «If you end up suffering a 'gun accident' while we're in the trenches together, Spaceboy, remember that friendly was your word, not mine.» Suppressing a smirk of his own, Max held up his hand in a gesture of peace. «I need you on my secondary team, Maria.» Her only response was a petulant pout. Max thought Duff might have been able to land her black chopper on Maria's lower lip. Standing between Isabel and Shelby, Jesse finally spoke up. His suit was rumpled from his harrowing day of travel. «The secondary team I assume that's the group Shelby and I will be with, the ones in charge of keeping our media contacts ready to mobilize their armies.» «And the ones in charge of, um, 'outing' the Special Unit to the public," Shelby added. «Our media blitzkrieg, so to speak," Michael said. Now he wasn't smiling. «That's right," Max said. Like Michael, he still wasn't happy with the flip side of the media assault on the Special Unit which amounted to alerting the entire world to the fact that he, Isabel, and Michael were aliens. «I want you to be part of our media team as well," Max added, addressing Kyle. Kyle looked both relieved and disappointed. «You sure you want to keep me on the bench, Max? I mean, everybody knows I'm not very keen on ultraviolence. But I was one of West Roswell High's most athletic specimens and I'm no coward, Buddhism notwithstanding. You might need me up at the line of scrimmage. Especially if we have to…» He trailed off, looking sheepish. «Especially if the Special Unit forces us to fire off our little ad hoc secret weapon," Langley finished for him, referring to a last-ditch tactic the group had bandied about a little earlier. Max gave Kyle an appreciative smile. It was hard now to believe that he'd once thought of Kyle as an overbearing, egotistical lout in a letterman's jacket. «This isn't a football game, Kyle. And it has nothing to do with either Buddhism or courage.» Max looked his former rival straight in the eye. «I'm going to need your psychic party line running from a safe, remote location. That way you can keep everyone on our primary team in touch with one another but from here. And Jesse's team might need you to make direct mental contact with any of the media people who aren't answering their phones.» Isabel shook her head. «I'm not sure that'll work, Max.» Max frowned, realizing that another moment he'd been dreading was fast approaching. «What do you mean, Iz?» «So far, Kyle's third-party telepathy only seems to work when I'm physically with him.» «Exactly," Max said. «Now wait just a damn minute, dear brother," Isabel said, her eyes flaring. «Where do you get off telling me I have to stay behind?» He grinned. «I'm the king, remember?» She clearly wasn't amused. «I don't remember voting for you.» Michael leaned toward Langley, stage-whispering. «I want a sample of your DNA, if it's not too much trouble.» Langley looked at him through narrowed eyes. «What for?» «To see if we can inject copies of your blind-obedience genes into Iz and Maria.» «I heard that!» Isabel and Maria roared in furious unison. At the moment, Max was beginning to think that Michael's joking notion might have some real merit. «Isabel, we can't risk letting the Special Unit capture you. Or have you forgotten Liz's vision?» Isabel lifted her hands in exasperation. «Have you forgotten that Liz saw Lonnie's horoscope, not mine?» «Just because the Special Unit killed Lonnie doesn't mean they can't still do the same thing to you," Liz pointed out, her dark eyes grave. Surprisingly, Maria now seemed to have been won over. «If.Isabel is grounded, too, then 1 guess 1 have to withdraw my 'alien chauvinism' objection.» «'Alien chauvinism,' my eye. It's more like a case of brotherly paranoia," Isabel said, now looking as petulant as Maria had looked just a little earlier. «It's not paranoia when somebody really is trying to get you," Michael pointed out. He turned and faced Max, an eager look on his face. «So let's go over the battle plan for our A-Team, Maxwell.» «We go to the mattresses, Michael," Max said, quoting from The Codjather, which was a mutual favorite. «I have to give you high marks for enthusiasm, Max," Jim Valenti said. «But a sound-bite from
the Corleone brothers leaves little to be desired in terms of tactics and strategy. We're planning an armed rescue with media blackmail on top of it. And there's a very real chance we'll have to do some killing, or be killed ourselves.» Looking at Valenti, Max nodded slowly. He had already considered the possibility of having to kill or be killed. In fact, he had agonized over it ever since the group had first discussed it. But in the end, the need to rescue his and Liz's parents had won out. With Kyle's ability to link and amplify Isabel's and Langley's powers, we might even be able to kill or cripple a whole lot of Special Unit agents all at once, he thought, hoping the need to unleash the «secret weapon» wouldn't arise. With a sense of resignation, Max decided he would leave that up to the Special Unit. The MiBs didn't have to choose a fight to the death, after all; Max was ready to offer them a better alternative, one that everyone could live with. It was up to them. Michael shrugged at Valenti, then met Max's gaze squarely. «We go to the mattresses. Works for me.» Max's spirits rose as he saw that Michael was ready to follow him wherever he was going. Michael seemed to be saying that he would do whatever he had to do to rescue the Evanses and the Parkers. And to make certain that the Special Unit could never threaten anyone else ever again. «So are we going to just march right up to the Special Unit's front door?» Duff asked, scowling. «As a matter of fact… yes," Max said. He only hoped that he and his friends had the power and the luck to pull off this crazy plan. 15. City of Industry, California After everything Margolin had seen over the past week up to and including the bizarre alien blood and the apparently normal human organs of the alien girl the medics had taken apart a short time ago he thought he'd lost the capacity to be surprised. But that was before Max Evans turned up on the very doorstep of the Special Unit's West Coast compound, apparently alone and unarmed. Why hasn't he put up any resistance? Margolin thought as he watched Bartolli assist a pair of black-suited agents in frog-marching the wiry teenager into Margolin's small office. All three of Evans's escorts still had their tinfoil caps tightly in place across their skulls. «Max Evans," Margolin said. «Your… visit is certainly a surprise.» Max's dark eyes seemed to hold equal parts anger and fear. And there's something else there too, Margolin thought, without being able to put his finger on exactly what it was. Resolve? The teen shrugged Bartolli's restraining hand off his shoulder, prompting the other two agents to raise their lethal-looking pistols menacingly. «I'd advise you not to do anything you might regret later, Mr. Evans," Margolin said, keeping his voice icy. «Assuming 'later' is an applicable word, in your case.» «Don't worry," said Evans. «Trust me, if I wanted to, I could kill you before your goons could do anything about it.» Margolin nodded. «No doubt. But you'd follow me into eternity only a fraction of a second later, believe me. And where would that leave your poor parents? And Miss Parker's?» Max's eyes flashed, as though he was holding himself back only by the most strenuous expenditure of effort. «Gotta give the kid credit for having guts," said Bartolli. «Trying to mount a daring rescue mission. And all on his own, to boot.» Margolin walked toward the Evans boy, stopping only a few inches away from him. «Is that your plan? Or have you come to surrender?» Evans smiled at that. Another surprise. «Neither. I've come to make you an offer. One that you can't afford to refuse.» I'm really into it up to my neck now, Jim Valenti thought, clenching the rifle in his black-gloved hand as he stood in the dark alley beside the building that the alien compass device had revealed as their target. The coffee was wearing off and fatigue was beginning to catch up to him. At the moment there was nothing he wanted more than a long nap. Keep your mind on the job, Valenti thought, forcing himself with sheer willpower to remain focused and alert. People are depending on you. Duff, Liz Evans, and a jittery-looking Langley were beside him. Valenti worried that the alien entertainment mogul might panic and run off, now that he was outside of Max's immediate reach. But evidently the genetically enforced commands Max had given him were preventing that. So jar, Valenti thought. A lot of things can still go very wrong with this operation very quickly. «Are they in?» Duff whispered to Langley, her black mask giving her voice a muffled, throaty quality. Thanks to the mask, Valenti doubted any of the MiBs inside the compound would recognize her, even if some of them had worked closely with her on previous FBI assignments outside of the Special Unit. Langley closed his eyes and appeared to concentrate intently. «I've got Kyle on the psychic hot line. He says the mindmelds he established with Max and Michael before we left are still holding up.» «'Mindmelds'?» Duff said. «I think you've been working in TV a little too long, Langley.» Langley scowled. «You want to hear Kyle's play-by-play or not?» «Please. Carry on.» «Michael has just reached the air duct you scoped out when you hacked their computer. The Feds haven't traced what you did and stormed my house yet, you'll be happy to know.» «I'm thrilled," Duff said in a sarcastic tone. «Now what about Max?» «The Special Unit just put the arm on him. Captured him without a fight, just the way you planned. Tres goofy plan, by the way» «Shut up," said Duff. But Valenti wasn't at all sure that the bald alien was wrong. «Can you tell if the Special Unit has detected Michael yet?» Valenti asked. Langley shook his head. «For some reason, I can't seem to get inside any of their heads. Neither can Kyle or Isabel, from what I hear on the alien-psychic tom-toms.» «Don't worry, Dad. Max and Michael are both all right at least so far.» Valenti felt surprise surge up his back like an accidental electrocution. He turned and looked over his shoulder to find the source of the voice he'd just heard. «Kyle?» Suddenly the alley around him vanished, and he was standing in a small, brightly lit office. Two secret-service types flanked him, while a pair of dark-suited men, one scarred and gray-haired, the other one balding, younger, and fiercer, faced him with menace in their eyes. And tinfoil caps on their heads. Valenti wondered what the hell that was all about. «Guts, indeed," the gray-haired man was saying to Valenti/Max, a look of restrained surprise on the man's face. He and the fierce-looking man beside him were looking intently at him/Max. No, Valenti reminded himself. It's Max they're looking at. I'm just an invisible eavesdropper. «That's quite an ultimatum you just issued, son," said the feral man with the thinning hair. «But I don't believe you can back it up.» «Over here, Dad," said Kyle, whom Jim Valenti only now noticed was standing unobtrusively in a corner, with Isabel at his side. Valenti turned toward them, alarmed. «Kyle, what the hell do you think you're doing?» Kyle grinned at him. «Don't worry. These Tommy Lee Jones knockoffs can't see or hear me or you. I was having such an easy time keeping the line to Max and Langley open that I thought I'd see if I could conference somebody else into the Max-Michael-Langley Network, so to speak. I'm surprised it wasn't harder to do, considering that my brain-battery» he hooked a thumb toward Isabel «and I are still sitting in Langley's house.» Suddenly, the office faded, and Valenti found himself crawling on his belly through a narrow, pitch-black space, enclosed by walls barely wider than his shoulders. Now I'm seeing what Michael is seeing, he realized. He's working his way through the air ducts. Then he noticed that he could still see the office and the tinfoil-capped men who were interrogating Max, like a photograph that had been double exposed. On top of that, he realized he could also see Duff, Langley, Liz, himself, and the alley in which their real-world, flesh-and-blood forms were all standing. The triple image was damned distracting. «Now isn't the best time to be conducting unannounced telecommunications experiments, son," Valenti said. Absurdly, he remembered the time he had caught a much younger Kyle Valenti redhanded in the act of making a prank phone call. Jim could still see Kyle's washed-out image. The lad suddenly looked embarrassed, as though tuned directly into his father's thoughts. «Sorry, Dad. Wasn't trying to mess up your game. Actually, I thought I was going to make contact with Liz first, since she got her powers the same way I did. Figured we'd be on the same wavelength or something. Must have got you instead because I've been worrying so much about you.» That made sense to Valenti. But he also wondered if Kyle had homed in on him rather than Liz because he, Jim Valenti, was finally
beginning to metamorphose into something other than entirely human, the way both Liz and Kyle had. After all, each of them had suffered mortal gunshot wounds only to be brought back from the abyss of death by Max's healing touch. Kyle's emerging psychic abilities appeared to be some sort of unintended consequence of that. «Sure," Jim said, feeling distinctly uncomfortable. He also was beginning to experience some nausea, as the two overlapping sets of sensory information Kyle was feeding him played havoc with his inner ear; he couldn't tell whether he was standing or lying on his belly. «You must have been thinking about me unconsciously.» At least he hoped to hell that's all it was. «Try not to worry, son. And concentrate on your job keeping the phone lines open, so to speak. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to get back to my job. Duff and I still have a castle to storm here.» «Sorry, Dad, I'll just " Valenti was suddenly standing back in the alley, his weapon clenched in his hands. He wasn't sure if Kyle had dropped him out of the mental link, or if he had somehow done it himself. He hoped it was the former; there was enough on his plate right now without having to worry about dealing with a developing superpower of his own. Besides, that would just give Maria yet another reason to complain about feeling left out. Valenti noticed that one of Duff's gauntleted hands was on his armored shoulder. Liz was looking at him with concern in her eyes. Langley looked as though he wanted to bolt, and seemed to seethe with frustration because he couldn't. «You all right there, Chief?» Duff said. «You sorta went away on us for a minute there.» Valenti nodded, gently fending Duff off. Though his fear of what the Special Unit might do to their prisoners remained as strong as ever, his brief mental contact with Kyle seemed to have greatly enhanced his confidence. Then he heard Kyle's psionic voice again. Dad, it doesn't look like the MiBs are buying what Max is selling. Langley, who obviously had also received Kyle's message, looked queasy. «Great. Your tax dollars at work. Why can't government people ever do anything the easy way?» «Kyle just told me that Max's ultimatum didn't go over very well," Valenti said to Duff, whose confusion was apparent even through her black mask. «We seem to have run out of nonviolent options. Make sure the 'B' team gets the word, Langley. They have their work cut out for them.» Duff sighed, then cocked her rifle. «And so do we. Let's lock, load, and ride in to the rescue.» And hope like hell we don't get anybody killed, Valenti thought as they moved toward the service entrance that Duff had hacked from the Special Unit's computers. «What do you think, Ava?» Rath said. «Are these guys friends or foes?» Crouching with him behind the Dumpster, Ava said, «They showed up in a black helicopter, they're all wearing black outfits at least one of them is wearing a mask and they're marching right into Dr. Evil's lair as we speak. Seems pretty open-and-shut to me. Put my vote in the 'bad guys' column.» But if they really are the bad guys, Rath thought, then why is it they don't seem to be wearing those goofy tinfoil caps the Special Unit uses to keep Ava from noodling with their minds? Peering around the garbage container again, Rath decided to make his doubts and his rising hopes known. «Bad guys wouldn't have to sneak into the place the same way we did. These guys might be on our side.» «Maybe I should walk up and introduce us?» Rath shook his head. He wasn't about to throw all caution to the winds. «Can you keep us invisible from all four of them so we can follow them in?» Of course, he knew that she couldn't actually make anyone truly invisible; but her mindfreak power could make people think they hadn't seen them. As long as they're not wearing those foil beanies. Ava shrugged. «Shouldn't be too hard. But didn't we see more of 'em get off the chopper?» «Yeah," Rath agreed, recalling how they'd seen the black helicopter come in low and land not a mile away from here. At first, he'd thought it was the Feds coming after them again. But not only had they not noticed him and Ava watching them from the shadows of a nearby parking lot, they'd beat feet straight toward the compound from which he and Ava had just escaped. Curious, Rath had followed them back over Ava's objections. «And the MiBs picked one of 'em up," Rath continued. «From right out in front of their HQ. Just like when Luke Skywalker handed his droids over to Jabba the Hutt.» Ava frowned. «What, you're saying these guys are here to rescue Han Solo?» «Or somebody. And don't forget, another one of them peeled off in a different direction right before that.» «Maybe he's planning on sneaking into the building through a different entrance from the one the other four are gonna use," Ava said. «Maybe they are on our side after all.» «The other four must be here to make noise to cover the guy who's sneaking in," Rath said, admiring the strategy. He thought it was something he might have tried himself if he'd had enough troops to pull it off. «Guess there's no point in trying to talk you out of risking both our butts to rescue Lonnie," Ava said. «Nope. And if you try to mindfreak me into leaving her here or into letting you sneak off the last thing that'll go through your mind is my fist.» She spread her hands. «Whoa, big fella. Take it easy. I don't want to leave Lonnie to the Feds' tender mercies any more than you do. I just think we might have better luck if we follow that lone scout into the building instead of hooking up with the main assault team. Those guys are a lot likelier to attract attention and get shot at, if you think about it.» Rath had to admit that she was making sense for once. But the lone sneak had already disappeared minutes ago to wherever it was he'd been headed. Suddenly, Ava was gone. The alley and the Dumpster were gone as well, though the darkness persisted. He was on his belly, crawling forward through an almost claustrophobically narrow space. Then, as quickly as it had come, the dreamlike sensation vanished, a wisp of mnemonic smoke. It felt like the almost telepathic rapport he sometimes shared with Lonnie when they were both asleep. But it was at the same time very different and somehow even more familiar than even Lonnie. Maybe it was an accidental telepathic contact, he thought. Like a psychic wrong number. Whatever it had been, he knew now, with a certainty he'd never felt before in his life, which way they had to go. «Come on," he said, grabbing Ava's elbow. She gasped at the suddenness of his action, but said nothing as he propelled her through the alley, following his own mental roadmap. He had to move quickly, in case the mental image started to fade like an early morning dream. Hang on, Lonnie, baby, he thought, not bothering to wonder about his newfound certainty. The cavalry is finally coming. 16. With the possible exception of the time Agent Pierce had started slicing his chest open in the White Room back in Roswell, Max couldn't think of a time when he'd been in greater personal danger. Can't afford to think about that at the moment, he told himself, wondering how much of his internal thought processes Kyle and Isabel were able to pick up. «Guts indeed," Margolin was saying, trying to keep the surprise from his face. «That's quite an ultimatum you just issued, son," Bartolli said. «But I don't believe you can back it up.» «Are you sure you want to find out the hard way?» Max said, hoping his voice wouldn't crack. His heart felt like a trapped animal trying to escape. «If you don't let my parents and the Parkers go and agree to back off and leave us all alone I can and will go public, and blow your entire operation wide open.» Max let his words hang in the air for several moments, like a lingering pall of smoke. Then the man with the thinning, slick-backed hair who had been deferring to his older, scar-faced leader until now threw his head back and laughed. «I'm not kidding," Max said. «The media will be all over you. And possibly even something a whole lot worse might happen if you really push me.» His skin crawled as he considered Langleys idea of using Kyle's powers as a channel for brain-blasting all the MiBs in the vicinity, probably fatally. «Do you really think Fox News will give a damn about your little alien-hunter story?» said the older man, an indulgent expression on his deeply lined, scarred face. «Do you actually suppose that MSNBC will even consider telling the world that extraterrestrials walk among us? You're presupposing they'll believe what you're saying. And apart from the National Enquirer and the Weekly World News, I just can't see that happening.» Max swallowed hard. He'd already considered this. But what alternative did he have, other than continuing to flee these men or fight them to the death? Why can't I find another way? «Maybe you're r
ight about the 'aliens-among-us' angle," he said after a pause. «But I'm betting that a lot of legit news people will jump all over a story about out-of-control federal agents who kidnap and kill people because they believe an alien invasion is underway. Think of it as a story about how the government uses our tax dollars to commit felonies.» Scarface shook his head and chuckled. «Mr. Evans, I watched the news media sit on its hands while five people in black robes stole a presidential election in broad daylight. Believe me, they won't touch your story with a barge pole. No matter what 'evidence' you think you've collected about us. Besides, we have plenty of media resources of our own.» Max's heart sank, though he hadn't really expected these guys to cave in easily. He realized what he was feeling was more sadness than defeat. It's no go, Kyle, he thought glumly as he switched tactical gears. Langley's «secret weapon» now appeared to be the only arrow in Max's quiver. I need you and Isabel and Langley to be ready to pull the trigger, he thought to Kyle. He could feel both Kyle's and Isabel's reluctance to take such a radical step, however necessary. They weren't killers, and neither was he. «Looks like your bluff has been called, Mr. Evans," said the other man, who began grinning a predator's grin. «What do you propose to do about it?» Max tried to match the man's grin with one of his own. Unbidden, a memory arose of his recent and disastrous television acting audition. He doubted his current performance was any more convincing. But he also knew the time for persuasion had passed. «It's already done," Max said quietly. Scarface motioned to the pair of black-suited agents who still flanked Max. «Take him to the medics so they can drug him. If his hands so much as twitch on the way, you are authorized to use deadly force.» The man with the predatory smile asked, «Slice and dice? Like the girl?» The g}rl, Max thought, fear clutching at his heart as he recalled the light that had faded from the ken-teef back at Langley's. Lonnie's light, which had evidently been snuffed out on a Special Unit dissection table, in fulfillment of Liz's grisly prophecy. «Invasive procedures," Scarface confirmed. Then the agents silently marched Max out into a corridor. Michael had just burned open an air duct in the ceiling and dropped adroitly to the floor he was still following the mental map Kyle and Isabel were telepathically supplying him all the way from Langley's place in the Hollywood Hills when he noticed he wasn't alone in the corridor. Kyle and Isabel were suddenly standing right beside him. Or, at least, that's the way his brain perceived it. «Yeesh!» Michael whispered, turning his head to make sure nobody else was present in the corridor. «Is there any way we can keep our little psychic hot line on audio only? This Kyle-o-Vision thing is a little too much reaching-outand-touching for my taste.» «Sorry," said Kyle. «Professor X and I are still working on controlling my nifty new mutant powers.» «The Special Unit isn't going for the deal, Michael," Isabel said, ignoring the banter. She was very near tears. «And they're taking Max away they're going to cut him open, just like they did with the other… with Lonnie.» Michael wondered why Liz hadn't foreseen this eventuality. Then the reason came to him, along with a burst of renewed confidence. «I'm all over it, Iz. But I'm already in the detention area. Once I bust the parental units free, I'll go after Max.» «But he's going into some sort of operating room now It looks like the only way to prevent it is to link my powers to Kyle and Langley and start frying the brains of everybody here.» Of course, Michael already knew that; he'd been halfaware of everything Max had seen, heard, and said ever since Kyle had used his new power to set up a link between him, Max, and Langley during the brief flight from the Hollywood Hills. «Isabel, think about it. Haven't you wondered why Liz hasn't had a future flash about Max getting sliced up?» «Guess 1 haven't thought about it much. I've been too busy worrying about them actually doing it.» Michael pressed on. «The reason Liz didn't see it in her Magic 8 Ball is because it's not going to happen. She didn't have that particular future flash because something is going to prevent it.» «You're counting on luck, General Rath?» said Kyle. «Doesn't sound like a very sound military stratagem to me.» Just like Langley is counting on being lucky enough not to fry the Evanses and the Parkers with this brain-blast thingie, Michael thought. A harsh, painfully loud alarm began sounding, reverberating up and down the empty corridor. He heard the sharp staccato of gunfire in the distance, punctuated by alarmed shouts. The smell of cordite stung his nose. Michael grinned at Kyle and Isabel. «Sometimes luck is the only weapon you can really count on," he said. Then he turned and ran toward the area where his mental map told him the detention cells were located. Over Valenti's no doubt well-intentioned and chivalrous objections, Duff took the point as they forced the lock to a basement-level door and entered the building. Valenti and Liz Evans followed close behind her, while Langley brought up the rear. Despite Max's earlier assurances that the alien producer wouldn't bolt and run, she remained prepared to shoot him nonlethaily, she hoped should he try it. With a stealth born of long years of training and fieldwork, Duff led the group through a maze of narrow rooms, and finally into a well-lit corridor. Fortunately, the long hallway seemed to be empty. Then she heard footfalls coming from behind her. Turning her masked face toward the sound, she realized it was already too late to hide the group. Three black-suited federal agents had just rounded a corner, and the group turned to face them, responding to Duff's shouted warning. Great. Now Langley's our front man. Bullets zinged past Duff's ear. Before she could get off a shot of her own, the producer had raised both his hands, releasing a sheet of pure energy that knocked the federal agents off their feet, sending their weapons flying. The men slid as they hit the polished floor, then came to rest, apparently unconscious. Duff motioned the group forward again. «Let's move, people. They're all probably gonna know we're here by now.» As she trotted down the corridor, in the lead again, she said to Liz, «How 'bout it, psi-girl? What's coming up in our near future?» Liz said, «I think we're about to set off " Suddenly a Klaxon, like a choir of fifty angry car alarms, began shrilling and reverberating loudly up and down the corridor. " an alarm," Liz finished weakly. Duff swore under her breath and kept leading the group forward, her weapon at the ready. None too gently, the two black-suited guards hustled Max into a large, empty room. Compared with the office and the hallway from which he'd just emerged, this place was like an airplane hangar a high-domed ceiling, with a balcony that held a couple dozen chairs, each of which looked down upon the table at the room's center and focal point. The table was surrounded by lights all turned off at the moment and medical apparatus of every description. Max's eyes went from the balcony down to the table, and he realized with a horrified start that the room hadn't been empty. At least, not entirely. On the table lay a motionless, blood-spattered body. Or most of a motionless, blood-spattered body. The corpse had been disassembled, methodically and competently. Max felt his gorge rise when he looked at the corpse's face and saw his sister's eyes, now dull and sightless. That's not Isabel, he reminded himself, shutting his own eyes in an unsuccessful attempt to force the horrific vision away. But the image of the dead girl, her expression frozen in a rictus of mute terror, seemed to have been burned across his retinas. His tightly closed eyes were suddenly awash in tears. He felt someone shove him from behind. «You're next, Martian," said a rough voice. «Once we clean up the mess here, that is.» He heard a weapon being cocked behind him. In front of him, he heard footfalls as someone, or perhaps several someones, entered through another door. Must be the «medics» who sliced Lonnie open like a high school biology lab project. «Get him sedated," Max heard someone say. «Before he has a chance to " Suddenly the room was filled with a cacophonous, sirenlike sound. Max thought he heard one of his escorts say «Intruders.» Though still blinded by tears, Max wasted no time. Galvanized by rage and fear, he spun toward his momentarily distracted guards, raised his hands, and released some of that emotion in the form of a solid wall of force. Through his tears, he dimly saw both Men in Black fly backward into the walls at extreme speed, striking the chrome surfaces like a pair of crash-test dummies. He turned and saw several masked, white-coated p
eople. A pair of them were lunging toward him, one of them carrying a nasty-looking hypodermic needle. He allowed some of his anger to flow outward, and he felt raw power surge through him. Less than two seconds later, Max Evans was the only conscious being in the room. This ends now, he thought, moving back toward the door through which he had entered after pausing briefly to vomit on the blood-flecked floor. Wiping his mouth and blinking away his tears, he stepped back out into the corridor. A half-dozen armed men were already there, crouching in anticipation of imminent combat, their heavy pistols and rifles drawn and ready. They fired as one, even as Max started to raise his hands. The Klaxons were still blaring, but Michael tried not to let that rattle him as he ran down the corridor. This is almost too easy, he thought as he mowed down four more MiBs with another focused blast of energy. Or maybe my control is just getting better the more I get to practice on these guys. As he made his way around the final corner toward the detention cells, he considered the weird headgear all the MiBs he'd encountered so far had been wearing. Those tinfoil hats don't seem to be any great shakes in the protection department. Wonder what they're for. Michael came to a stop in front of a locked door, in a spot that matched the mental map Kyle was sending. Extending a glowing hand, he made short work of the lock, pushed gently, and cautiously entered the room beyond. Phillip Evans turned toward him from the corner in which he stood. He looked bruised, frightened, and tired, but far from defeated. Diane Evans sat cross-legged nearby in the bare white room, as did Jeff and Nancy Parker. Their expressions were dull, guarded. They all looked as though they hadn't slept in a month. Was this what Liz just saw? he wondered. Or was it something else? They all instantly began looking better. «Michael?» each of them said in unison, as those who were sitting on the floor rose awkwardly to their feet. «How?» said Max's dad, confusion and suspicion both evident on his face. He must have suspected that Michael's unexpected appearance was really some sort of psychological dirty trick hatched by the Special Unit, a move calculated to break their spirits by raising their hopes and then cruelly dashing them. Michael wondered briefly whether the Special Unit had placed their prisoners in the same cell for similar reasons, intending to separate them soon in order to stress them further. Or maybe the Feds just want to see what conversations they'll overhear by bringing all the parental units together. «Explanations later," Michael said. «Escape now.» And with that, he led them out into the apparently empty hallway, his fist crackling with gathering force. He was determined to do whatever was necessary to anyone who tried to bar his path. «Follow me.» He felt a sudden sharp pain in his neck, right at the base of his jaw. He reached up with his right hand and felt the fletching on the carbon fiber shaft that protruded from his skin. Michael's bones and muscles began turning to rubber before he could determine from which direction the trank dart had come. He raised a hand in an effort to fend off the black-garbed shapes that swiftly overran him, the Evanses, and the Parkers. The corridor quickly filled with echoing, surreal shouts and screams, overlaid by the weird shrilling of the alarm Klaxon. Hard, muscular arms grabbed him and began carrying him away, dragging him backward. His vision began to dim, like a film fading to black. As he was dragged away, he blinked at the sight of a trio of shapes peering around a corner. Three people, he realized, who seemed to be trying their best to keep out of sight. One of them looked exactly like Tess Harding, except for her straight, silvery-blue hair. The second one's face was identical to Michael's own. Our New York dupes? he thought hazily. He realized that he was losing consciousness and maybe his mind as well when he thought he recognized the third person, whose form was as elusive as a shadow. It looked a lot like Alex Whitman, the group's old friend whom Tess had slain more than a year earlier. Ava winced from the volume of the alarm Klaxons as she watched the group of armed MiBs march four frightenedlooking adults away, while two of the agents half-dragged, half-carried Rath's twin from Roswell. She turned toward Rath. «So are we gonna rescue him, or what?» she asked. Rath grunted. «It's not like I owe him anything.» Ava didn't disagree with that. She knew their best chance of survival lay in freeing Lonnie, then quickly getting as far away from this place as possible. «So what's next? We have to assume they've moved Lonnie to make it harder for anybody to rescue her.» «We follow him," Rath said, pointing with his jaw toward the apparently unconscious Michael, whose escorts were dragging him around a corner. «But we do it discreetly, without sending these guys engraved announcements that we're back in the building. My guess is that my knockoff from Nowhere, New Mexico, will lead us right to Lonnie. Then we're outta here, all three of us.» Ava thought that sounded reasonable, if risky. «Maybe we ought to find some cover, just in case we get caught in here.» Rath blinked in fatigue. «I've been zapping way too many of these MiBs to even think about doing a shapeshift.» «Me too. I have a different idea in mind.» Ava quickly backtracked around the corner they had just turned. On the floor lay a black-suited federal agent whom Rath had just rendered unconscious. Rath followed her, watching her in silence as she knelt beside the agent and removed the tinfoil cap from his skull. Ava grinned up at Rath. «Let's wake him up, wind him up, and watch him go.» How'd I get here? Special Agent Anselmo felt a wave of dizziness, which passed almost as quickly as it had come. The two teenage prisoners walking ahead of him had turned. They were eyeing him curiously, their shackles jingling. Were they thinking he was giving them another chance to try to escape? «Keep moving, you two. Eyes front.» He brandished his Glock nine-millimeter pistol for good measure. The spiky-haired male looked like he was thinking of going for the weapon, then evidently thought better of it. The girl with the silvery-blue 'do simply looked frightened, in over her head. She was clearly no threat. At least, Anselmo thought, not so long as my cap is where it's supposed to be. He realized with a start that he couldn't feel the cap on his head. Without it, one or both of these aliens might be able to reach into his mind, and could conceivably manipulate him into doing or believing just about anything. He reached up with his free hand and sighed with relief after his fingertips brushed the familiar rough metallic texture of the protective skullcap. He was safe. When the corridor came to a «T," the girl stopped, turned, and looked beseechingly at him. «Which way?» Which way. Which way? For a fleeting moment, he wasn't at all sure. «Probably to the same place they dragged Lonnie," the boy growled. «You know, your other female prisoner from earlier.» Right. The medical chamber. That's right. Yes. That's exactly right. He pointed authoritatively down the left side of the «T.» «That way, punk. Move!» The bullets hovered in the air, one of them stopping less than an inch from Max's forehead. He'd managed to erect a force field in time to stop the volley of slugs, but he'd also felt their impact with a force that almost cost him his concentration. That was way too close, he thought as he struggled to keep the shimmering energy barrier up between himself and the group of angry federal agents he'd blundered into in the hallway adjacent to the surgery room. From farther down the corridor, a familiar voice rose above the wail of the Klaxons. «Drop your weapons!» Keeping his force field carefully in place, Max turned toward the sound. Jim Valenti and the still-masked Agent Duff had just rounded a corner, their rifles aimed straight at the MiBs who had been gunning for Max. Behind Valenti and Duff were Langley and Liz, also clad in body armor. The Men in Black immediately turned their attention to the newcomers, opening fire on them without hesitation. This time, Max knew he couldn't extend his force field quickly enough to protect his wife and friends. «Liz!» he shouted. His own force field collapsed as he struggled to reposition it. A split-second after the MiBs, Duff, and Valenti had exchanged a deafening volley of fire, the bullets from both sides hung uselessly in the air, like bugs trapped in amber. «Nice going," Valenti snapped at Langley. «Hey, if I stop theirs, I kinda have to stop ours, too. Impenetrable energy barriers are funny that way.» One of the MiBs turned back toward Max, apparently having noticed that Max's energy screen had fallen. Max barely managed to raise it again in time to stop the agent's slug from ventilatin
g him. So it's a standoff, he thought. He felt profoundly tired, and wondered how long he could keep the MiBs at bay. Fortunately, he knew that Langley was more powerful, and no doubt better rested, than he was. But not even the former alien protector could keep the entire Special Unit at arm's length forever. Max knew that brain-blasting the agents killing or crippling them would soon be the only option left. Suddenly, the sound of the alarm Klaxon stopped, evidently having served its purpose. Though Max's ears were still ringing, he heard a commotion coming from the corridor, in the direction opposite of Langley's force field. A moment later, a squad of armed and armored agents, all of them outfitted with the foil caps, hove into view. Leading them was the Special Unit leader's feral-looking lieutenant, still wearing his government-issue black suit and narrow tie. Then Max noticed the people in the center of the armed group. Carried by two agents was Michael; he was unconscious, or worse. And in the very center of the mass of armed men stood his parents, and Liz's. They looked both tired and terrified. Max tasted fear, and it was bitter. But it was almost overwhelmed by a rush of livid, bilious anger. Is this what it feels like to be Michael? he wondered. «Don't worry," Max shouted to his parents, and to the Parkers. «I'm going to get you out of this. I'm going to get us all out of this.» He only wished he knew how he could do it without soaking his arms to the elbows in blood. The feral man gave his subordinates a terse command, and each of his five prisoners immediately had as many gun barrels trained on their heads. From across the corridor, the feral man turned his hard eyes directly upon Max. «If I see one of your energy zaps come anywhere near me or my men, you'll be an orphan in less time it takes to say it. And this world will be lighter by exactly one alien juvenile delinquent. Now, why don't you lower your shields, Max?» Then Max heard more boots clattering on the floor. This time the armed men were coming from the other side of Langley's force field, forcing him to erect a second one to protect himself, Liz, Duff, and Valenti from a rear-guard action. «Max?» said another voice, this one more smooth and less adversarial than that of the feral man. Max turned quickly toward it. It was Scarface, the Special Unit's leader, walking past his lieutenant and his prisoners as calmly as a Little League coach strolling out to the mound to have a little chat with his team's pitcher. «Max," Scarface repeated. «Max, Max, Max. You don't want your little stunt here today to get anyone else hurt, do you? Least of all your loving parents. Or Liz Parker's.» «Max, don't listen to him!» shouted Phillip Evans. His face expressionless, the feral man slammed the butt of his pistol into the side of the lawyer's head, knocking him senseless. Diane Evans and Nancy Parker screamed as Jeff Parker caught Phillip, who was toppling over like a rag doll.