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Cautiously, we make our way around the row of buildings and come to the side of the Yost Financial Building. For a moment, we all look around to get a better feel for our surroundings.
“See the tower?” I ask.
“It would be the hardest to access,” Isaac says. “That has to be where the flag is.”
“Definitely.” Pike agrees with a nod.
“Most likely,” I say. “That should be our destination.”
“We could scale the walls,” Pike suggests. “There will be civilians inside as well as guards. If we can get around back and enter one floor below, we might not be detected immediately.”
“There’s security all around,” Isaac says. “They’ll probably see us before we reach halfway.”
I go over the building’s security information in my head.
“It would be a harder climb, but there are blind spots in the back. If we can stay inside of those, we should be able to make it up six floors without being spotted. Once we’re inside, all alarms will be triggered, but there are only two more floors to cover, and the stairwell is close to where we’ll enter.”
“Let’s do it,” Pike says.
“Solid.” Isaac nods.
We make our way to the back of the building and begin to scale the walls in a zigzag, avoiding the camera angles. The climb is easy enough for us, even when we have to shift sideways to get to another set of bricks suitable for handholds.
I nod toward the window that will be our access point. Isaac and Pike fan out around me as I approach it from the bottom center. I pull myself up to the ledge and peer inside.
Two civilians are inside, sitting at a table and going over a stack of papers. They don’t look in our direction as we take our positions on the ledge. With a glance and a nod, we smash the window and simultaneously dive inside the building.
The two civilians jump out of their seats, and one man places his hand on his chest as he takes a step back. Isaac directs them with his weapon to the corner of the room, and one man grins and nods as he holds his hands in surrender and looks all three of us up and down appreciatively.
At least they know something like this might happen.
Pike takes cording from his belt and loosely binds the hands of the two civilians as they sit on the floor.
“No escaping now!” He winks at them as he stands back up.
Both of the men smile and nod, obviously enjoying their part in the game. They could easily slip the cord from their wrists any time they like, but they are out as far as we are concerned. It makes little difference. As soon as we are out in the hallway, alarms start to ring.
Without a need for words, the three of us head down the hall in the same direction, heading straight for the
stairs. The alarm echoes loudly through the stairwell as we make our way up three flights with lightning speed. At the top, a single door opens into a top-level conference room.
A large table in the center of the room is brightly lit from overhead lights. The walls hold abstract art consisting of shockingly bright colors in large frames. They’re so vivid, I almost feel like I could hear what the paintings have to say if I concentrated enough.
“Sten.” Isaac’s voice catches my attention, and I look where he’s pointing. I see the flag immediately. It’s on a stand in the back of the room, surrounded by nine soldiers who open fire immediately.
Despite the numbers, we are ready for exactly this kind of interaction. Isaac drops below the table, going for the legs of our adversaries. At the same time, Pike moves left and I move right, dodging the laser blasts and taking the targets out one by one. Each man falls as he’s hit, playing dead as the green lights flash on his chest.
The flag is right in front of us, but as Pike approaches it, I turn around slowly, weapon aimed. Something isn’t right.
This was too easy.
I meet Isaac’s gaze, and I know he feels the same way. Pike reaches for the flag. As soon as he touches it, panels in the ceiling quickly slide back, revealing three groups of men up in the rafters of the tower, all armed. We’ve walked into an ambush.
Where Pike stands is in the center of the crossfire, but his focus is now on two of the “dead” men below him. They grab on and pull him to the ground. Isaac begins to shoot above us, and I join in, trying to maneuver to Pike’s side as I fire. He doesn’t understand how quickly he’ll be hit; his face is a mask of rage directed at those who were playing dead.
Neither of them held their hands in surrender, indicating they’d been hit. There is a lesson to be learned there.
“Target left!” I call out to Isaac as I head for Pike. He’s back on his feet but still grappling with the two soldiers in front of him.
