Page 77 of Until the End

“What’s wrong?” Lenny asked.

“Not behind you,” Alistair said. “Straight ahead. He’s got a real hard-on for you. Or maybe that’s just the gun in his pocket.”

That was when she saw him. Charlie or Delta, one of the killers from the alphabet hit squad.

She had already glossed over him two or three times. He blended in with every other student, wearing a cardinal-red cap and MIT hoodie, except for the bulge in the front pocket of his sweatshirt.

Kit came to a dead halt.

“No, no, luv,” Alistair said. “Keep walking slowly toward him.”

“I know you’re crazy, but are you trying to get me killed?” she asked.

“Do you know what that beast would do to me if I did?”

“Rip off your nutsack,” Castle said through the earpiece, “and shove it down your throat. I’ll be there once I’m done zip-tying these two. Do as he says, Kit.”

“See.” Alistair’s voice rang with annoying satisfaction.

Kit clutched the box with one hand, held Lenny’s arm with the other, and proceeded down the hall as if they weren’t about to be snatched, or worse, shot.

“What’s going on?” Lenny asked her.

“We need to keep walking.” One foot in front of the other. “Don’t stop.”

The distance shrank from one hundred feet to seventy-five to fifty. Her chest tightened painfully, her skin crawling with fear.

Alistair appeared out of nowhere in the hall, waltzing up behind the guy when he’d just been on the second floor a moment ago. Forget Houdini. He was freaking Spider-Man.

In one lightning-quick move, Alistair threw an arm around the guy’s throat. Neck locked in the crook of Alistair’s elbow, the man strained to break loose.

Then Alistair ducked into a maintenance room, dragging the hit squad member with him.

Fast and smooth, it’d happened in a blur, so well-executed that no one else nearby seemed to notice. Like a scene from a movie.

Whatever training Alistair and Castle went through had to have been seriously impressive.

“Holy shit.” Lenny stopped. “Was that guy about to get us? Do you realize how close he was?”

Did she ever.

A burly man wearing a blazer and utilitarian boots rounded the corner. Their eyes locked. He lifted his cuff to his mouth, said something, and took off at a dead sprint straight for her.

They just kept coming. One after another. They weren’t going to stop until they got her and the hard drives.

“I’m sorry, Kit,” Lenny said as if reading her mind. “You have the package. Whatever is inside, I don’t want to know.” Wincing apologetically, he patted her cheek. “This is too much. I’m out.” He turned on his heel, ran up to the man from Zanteon, his palms raised, and pointed back at her, speaking in a rush.

She read his lips. I gave her the package. You don’t need me.

What a backstabbing toad!

They were no longer good. No way, no how. They’d never be good. Ever.

She turned to run. Another Zanteon contractor was coming from the opposite direction. This one lanky and blond. She whipped around, looking for a place to hide, somewhere to run. Her gaze snagged on the sign for the auditorium.

The beefy guy shoved Lenny aside and made a beeline for her, unconcerned by the attention he drew from bystanders.

Kit dashed to the auditorium, wrenched open the door, and rushed inside.