Tunnels 05 - Spiral

but he and his men have cleared a way in.”
    “Sounds promising,” Parry said.
    “It gets better. Eddie’s on the estate with some of the Old Guard. They’ve been surveilling a sizable factory where the Limiters are thick on the ground, and there’s also a high degree of vehicle activity. They’ve seen at least two refrigerated trucks make deliveries of what could have been meat — the last one’s just gone in. So it could be food for the Warrior grubs. I reckon we might have struck the mother lode.”
    “What’s Danforth’s take on it?” Parry asked.
    “He agrees that the Dark Light usage is exceptionally concentrated at that location. He thinks it’s a go. He’s sending Eddie the schematics for the factory right now.”
    Parry took a second to make up his mind. “Everyone!” he yelled across the floor. “We’re in business.”



“THIS IS CUSHY. I COULD get used to the corporate life,” Rebecca One joked as she sipped her Diet Coke through a straw.
    “Sure could,” Rebecca Two agreed.
    The Styx twins were in the boardroom, lolling around in the upholstered chairs with their feet on the table.
    Rebecca One ran her eye over the plates of sandwiches that she and her sister had barely touched. “I’ve had all I want of these.”
    “Me, too. Would you please clear the table and bring us a couple of ice creams, Johan?” Rebecca Two asked. She watched Captain Franz as he collected the plates, then headed for the kitchen.
    Rebecca One slammed her Coke can down on the table. “Will you stop treating him with kid gloves? You don’t
ask
him to do things for you — you
tell
him. And he’s a Topsoiler — don’t use his first name,” she said. “I worry about you, you know. You’ve got to sort your act out.”
    Slurping her drink, Rebecca Two made no response.
    With a back swipe, Rebecca One sent her Coke can hurtling across the room. “Doesn’t matter anyway. We’ll probably have to dispense with him sooner rather than later.”
    Rebecca Two avoided her sister’s gaze.
    Captain Franz returned with two tubs of ice cream. Rebecca One took hers but then threw it straight back in his face. He barely blinked as it struck him. “This is vanilla. I wanted chocolate. Get me a chocolate one right now!”
    “You didn’t say what you wanted,” Rebecca Two pointed out as Captain Franz shuffled away.
    “Are you for real?” Rebecca One said. “It’s up to
us
to show the Heathen who’s boss.” She was shaking her head in exasperation, when her cell phone suddenly rang. Taking her feet from the table, she went to her coat to retrieve it.
    “I don’t know this number,” she said, as she examined the display. “And who would be calling me right now, anyway?” After a moment’s deliberation, she answered the phone. “How did you get m —?” she snapped, then fell silent.
    “So who is it?” Rebecca Two tried to ask as her sister continued to listen to the caller without saying a word.
    Captain Franz had returned with the tub of chocolate ice cream, but Rebecca One waved him away. She was frowning. “How do I know you’re on the level?” she asked. A few moments later, she seemed satisfied with the answer. Still listening to the caller, she cupped a hand over the phone’s microphone. “Get your coat,” she whispered to her sister.
    “What for?” Rebecca Two demanded, but her sister ignored her, already heading for the door.
    Out in the corridor, Rebecca One again cupped her hand over the mouthpiece and spoke rapidly to her sister. “Get Franz to bring the Mercedes around to the back. Tell him to keep the engine running.”
    Rebecca Two almost exploded, she was so curious. “Why? What’s going on?” she hissed.
    But her sister was moving down the corridor at speed as she wrestled her coat on. “Tell me what you want out of this,” she said into the phone, as they turned a corner. They came face-to-face with the Limiter guarding the doors to the warehouse.
    Rebecca One beckoned at him with her free hand. “Your pistol — quick,” she ordered him with that hushed urgency people use when they’re mid–phone conversation.
    The Limiter obediently unbuttoned the flap on his holster and passed the gun over.
    “Silencer. That’s good,” she said, with a glance at the suppressor on the barrel. “No, sorry . . . nothing,” she replied quickly to the caller. “Just dealing with something here.” Her voice became hard with authority. “All right, I’m convinced, and