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Would he lie in wait to spring a trap on Cole?
Never. Benny would accomplish his mission.
Cole glanced into the kitchen but there was no one there. Through the refrigerator room and on out into the basement hall.
Chocolate shop? Flower shop? Carpenters' shop? The bowling alley? Nowhere to hide in there, the thing was only one lane wide.
Benny would already be searching. All Cole could do was follow in his footsteps, which could mean he got to the President first—or second. What he really needed was to find Benny. To draw him away from the President.
Calling out to Benny wouldn't work—he'd never be stupid enough to answer. But calling to the President would tell Benny where Cole was—and that might draw him to Cole, distract him from his mission.
"President Torrent!" Cole cried out.
"Cole!" came a shout from the carpenters' shop.
Cole couldn't believe it. The President answered? Telling the enemy exactly where he was! Was he insane? What if Benny was closer?
Well, he was, but not the way Cole expected. Benny and the President were in the main room of the shop, but Benny was on the ground, his Bones nonfunctional, and four nails in his face.
Torrent stood near the bandsaw, holding a nailgun. That explained the nails, but not why the Bones had stopped working.
"Is he dead?" asked Torrent.
Of course he wasn't dead, Cole might have said. Four nails in the face wouldn't kill anybody.
But instead he had to respond to Benny's movement. He was bringing up a handgun to shoot Torrent, and Cole was on the wrong side of him, the backside, with nothing vital he could hit without having to go through Kevlar.
Except that Benny was on the ground, and Kevlar was designed to protect a man who was upright. Cole shot him between the legs, up into the body cavity from below. Benny didn't get the shot off after all.
Cole still stood near the entrance to the room, facing the President. Torrent was looking down at the body. Or perhaps at the handgun that had been a split second away from firing at him.
Cole started toward the President.
"No, no," said Torrent. "I'll come to you."
But Cole walked right past him. Straight to the black-plastic-lined garbage can across from the bandsaw.
Sure enough, inside it was one of the handheld EMP devices. Nothing else could have brought Benny down. Certainly not a nailgun.
"Thought you didn't have any of these," said Cole, lifting it out of the garbage and turning back to face the President.
Torrent was holding Benny's handgun, pointing it at Cole's face.
Cole instantly clicked off all communications between himself and Jeep.
"What did you just do?" asked Torrent. "I know that was a command!"
"I cut off all outgoing audio."
"Cut it off?"
If Torrent had been a soldier, Cole would already be dead. Soldiers didn't wait to have conversations, they killed the moment they had the opportunity.
"Video was already off, in case the enemy had jigged the system and could see me that way."
"Why wouldn't you w
ant anyone to hear? You just made it easier for me to kill you."
