Deathstalker 06 - Deathstalker Legacy

tanglefields and force shields, with security cameras everywhere, and professionally trained, well-armed guards all over the shop . . . Lewis would have had a hell of a time getting in. So he had to wonder whether she'd been deliberately placed in the Tower, to act as bait in a trap for him. It was what Lewis would have done. But in the end it didn't matter. He'd said he'd come back for her, and he would. No matter how many guards or guns or traps they put in his way.
    Though Hell itself stood in his path.
    Night fell, and Lewis walked out of the Rookery, wearing simple anonymous clothes, and a holo projection of a simple anonymous face. No one gave him a second look. He took public transport to the Bloody Tower, being careful to give exact change, so as not to give the driver any reason to remember him. When he stepped off the bus at the right stop, and regarded the Tower rising spendidly up before him, looking large and blocky and utterly impregnable, he was surprised to find a loudly chanting mob already assembled before it. Jesamine Flowers' fanbase had mobilized itself through the singer's websites and turned out in force, with more arriving every hour as fresh coachloads arrived from other cities. They were outraged that their beloved diva and idol had been arrested, and mad as hell that she'd been locked up. The guards set to watch for Lewis Deathstalker were now far more concerned with holding off increasingly hysterical crowds of Jesamine Flowers' fans, who were loudly and furiously declining to disperse and go home, as ordered. There was much waving of angry placards, and organized chanting, and not a little stone throwing. Perfect cover for Lewis to study the Tower and its defenses without being observed.
    Serious trouble broke out not ten minutes after he'd got there. The mob surged forward, infuriated beyond reason or common sense, moved by a simple determination to get their adored heroine out of the notorious Bloody Tower. They forced their way through the low-level tanglefields through sheer weight of numbers, and then the mob headed for the thin ranks of guards as though they intended to walk right over them. The guards were under strict orders not to open fire on unarmed civilians (certainly as long as the media was watching) and so they braced themselves, drew their shock batons, and went head to head with the shouting, spitting mob. Lewis watched, wincing, hard-pressed to decide which side looked the most vicious, or determined. More guards came running, from other sides of the Tower, to reinforce the defensive lines. And it was the easiest thing in the world for Lewis to sneak past everyone, circle around and let himself into the Tower through an unregarded side door, using his old Paragon skeleton key.
    Once inside, he shut the door quietly behind him, relocked it, and then checked if the unobtrusive little device he'd brought from his lockup was still working. Basically, it tapped into watching security cameras and edited his image out of the picture. Simple, very effective, and utterly illegal. Just being caught in possession of the device was an automatic-and long-prison sentence. Lewis had confiscated it from a skell he'd busted in the Rookery a few years back . . . and somehow he'd never got around to turning it in. He'd always had the feeling it might come in handy someday.
    He looked quickly about him, but the narrow passageway was completely empty. Lewis hesitated, thinking dubiously again about the skeleton key that had got him in. Surely they should have been expecting him to use it, and reset the Tower's locks to keep him out? Or perhaps this was part of the trap, and somewhere a silent alarm was already flashing, to indicate he'd arrived. He shrugged quickly. It didn't matter. It just meant he had to move faster. He padded quietly down silent, deserted corridors, following the decorated signs set out to guide the tourists. It seemed most of the guards were outside, dealing with the fans. Or trying to, at least.
    Lewis heard footsteps approaching, and ducked out of sight through an open door. He peered cautiously around the door, and a single guard walked past, wearing an old historical uniform and carrying two mugs of steaming tea. Lewis stepped out of the side room and hit the man efficiently from behind. The guard slumped bonelessly to the floor, the tea going everywhere. Lewis looked quickly about him, but no one seemed to have heard anything. It took Lewis only a few moments to