Free The Reluctant Assassin by Eoin Colfer Page B

me.”
    Garrick also had an idea. The magician suddenly withdrew from the foot of the stairs and hurried along the subterranean corridor to the computer banks.
    That’s okay. That’s fine. All he can do with the computers is slap the keyboards. No password, no access, Chevie thought. Then: Really? The holding-cell door didn’t slow him down much, remember?
    “Phone, Riley. Get my phone.”
    “Unless it’s a weapon, Agent, forget your bloomin’ phone . Aim your gun and fire off another shot.”
    “No, don’t worry. He’s contained down there.”
    Riley understood that Miss Savano believed she had gained the upper hand, and his eyes watered with frustration.
    “You don’t understand, miss. Garrick is a devil. He ain’t no bludger nor simple broadsman. Didn’t you see him delivered from the pit with your own two gawpers?”
    Chevie had seen it, but she refused to relinquish the rules of her world entirely. “Maybe, if he could get into the weapons locker, he could do something, but that’s protected by a code.”
    From below came a double bleep and ka-chaak , which Chevie recognized as the weapons locker keypad turning off its alarm and swinging open.
    Riley knew without being told what the noises were. “That was your locker, wasn’t it, miss? That was Garrick outfoxing your code?”
    Again, thought Chevie.
    “That was our cue to go,” she admitted, hitching herself over the top step and into the hallway. “What you said about leaving? You were right.”
    “Praise the Lord for good sense,” said Riley, and he ducked under Chevie’s arm so he could drag her more efficiently.
    Garrick appeared, cradling an AK-47 assault rifle, which had probably been new when Chevie was in grade school.
    The gun’s age won’t slow down the bullets , thought Chevie, forcing Garrick to duck as she sent three more rounds humming down the stairwell. That should buy us five seconds at least.
    Five seconds was about three seconds more than she got. Before the echo of her final shot had faded, Garrick’s head appeared once more around the corner of the first flight of stairs. This time he had the AK’s stock expertly wedged between cheek and shoulder.
    Riley knew then that Garrick had come out of the metal transporting machine with knowledge and abilities he had not previously possessed. He was somehow improved.
    “Now, little girlie,” Garrick called, “let us see if what I dreamed about this contraption is true.”
    Garrick pulled the trigger, sending a stream of bullets into the ceiling over Chevie’s head. The kickback got away from him for a second, but he soon recovered. The noise was deafening in the confined space, like overlapping thunderclaps. Riley and Chevie hunkered on the floorboards, unable to tell if they had been shot or if they were screaming.
    Riley had no combat experience like Chevie’s, but his entire life had been one long trauma, so he was accustomed to getting on with living even when death was close at hand. He grabbed Agent Savano by the collar and dragged her backward like a sack of coal.
    “Come on,” he cried. “We must get to the streets.”
    They stumbled along together, with the threat of Garrick like a wind at their backs; and in a ragged moment they were at the front door, which was secured by three bolts set into a steel frame.
    Swipe the security card and we’re out, thought Chevie.
    Chevie felt for the tiny reel clipped to a pant loop where her card normally hung.
    No card. Must have lost it in the explosion. Unless . . .
    Chevie glared at Riley. “Give me my card, thief.”
    Riley already had it out. “You leaned a fraction close doing the manacles. And I opened them with a pick from me sock that came out of the machine with me. Sorry, Agent. Life or death.”
    They could talk about this later. Chevie swiped the card as bullets bounced around the hallway, shattering glass and blasting a crystal chandelier. It crashed to the ground, showering Riley with glass shards and blocking