The Masters Saga: The Southern Cross by Jack McKinney

Author:Jack McKinney [McKinney, Jack]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-307-76168-2
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2010-12-21T16:00:00+00:00

An hour later, a bogus maintenance transport was rumbling through the darkened streets of Monument City en route to the medical center. Louie had the wheel. Stopped at the gate, Angelo, riding shotgun, flashed a phonied-up requisition and repair order at the sleepy guard.

“Maintenance wants us to fix a ruptured ion gun in one of your X-ray scanning sequencers,” the sergeant said knowingly.

The guard scratched absently at his helmet and waved the vehicle through. As it entered the underground garage, Louie said, “By the way, ion guns don’t rupture.”

“Rupture, shmupture,” Angelo rhymed. “It got us in, didn’t it?”

Louie steered the transport to a secluded parking area. Angelo hopped down from the front seat and threw open the rear doors: out stepped Bowie, Sean, Marino, and Xavez—all in coveralls and visored caps—and Dana, in a nurse’s uniform that was at least three sizes too small for her and fit her like a second skin. Louie and Bowie immediately began toying with the hospital’s phone and com line switches, while the rest of the men started to strip down.…

In Zor’s ninth floor room, Nova put her clipboard aside to answer the phone. A nasal voice at the other end said:

“This is the office of Chief-of-Staff Emerson, Lieutenant Satori, and the general requests that you meet with him at the Ministry as soon as possible.”

Nova frowned at the handset and recradled it. She apologized to Zor for having to leave so suddenly, and a minute later was on her way.…

Bowie, who had a reputation for vocal impressions, unpinched his nose and informed the team that Satori had taken the bait. The coveralls gone now, Angelo wore bedroom slippers and an unremarkable cotton terry robe. Marino and Xavez were dressed like orderlies. Sean was in his usual uniform.

“Okay,” Dana told the sergeant, “make your move in ten minutes.”

“I never missed a cue,” Angelo promised.

Nova told the two GMP guards who were stationed either side of the door to Zor’s room to keep their eyes peeled.

“I’ll be back shortly,” she said.

At the same time, someone pushed the buzzer outside Marie Crystal’s seventh floor room. She was sitting in bed, reading a bodybuilding magazine, which she quickly hid from sight, slipping beneath the sheets as she did so and feigning sleep.

A moment later, the doors hissed open and in walked Sean.

Marie sat up, surprised. “What are you doing here at this time of night?”

Meanwhile, on the ground floor, Dana, toting a large shoulderbag (her nurse’s cap in place), was escorting a stretcher to one of the elevators; the stretcher was borne by Xavez and Marino, both wearing surgical masks—to hide their smiles as much as anything else. They entered the car, pushing seven on the floor display, just as the adjacent elevator opened, allowing Nova Satori to step out.

Upstairs, Sean was down on one knee at Marie’s bedside. “I got to thinking … you lying here all by yourself. I was worried about you.”

“Oh, no kidding,” she returned sarcastically.

“Seriously,” he persisted. “It’s a beautiful night, Marie. And I thought you might like to go up on the roof and enjoy it with me.

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