Power in the Hands of One Read Online Free PDF

rack. He retrieves a shotgun and proceeds to load it.
    “What the hell are you doing?”
    Awkward and lanky with weapon in hand, Ray dismisses my question. He strides back to the keypad on the wall and punches in the security code. Opening the door with a resolute yank, he nods. “In.”
    “What? You’re insane!”
    “Get in—I’ll fend them off. If they make it past me, they still have security clearance to contend with.”
    I obey but pause in the doorway.
    Ray marches to the outer door and disappears.
    I scan nearby for something to stick in the doorjamb. Finding an empty cardboard box, I place it in the door to ensure it doesn’t close behind me. Satisfied, I run to the video surveillance.
    In black and white, Ray stands at the ready as the side door bursts in. He fires a wild shot, silent on the monitor, but echoing over the top of the partition.
    The first agent enters and ducks—a miss. The second agent steps into view aiming a black semiautomatic pistol. He fires two quick shots.
    Ray falls to his knees and then to his stomach.

8
    The grainy feed of the monitor flows like a movie—but the sharp crack of shots fired helps to re-focus my attention. Ray isn’t moving on the screen; he’s just a dark outline on the pale cement.
    My will is split between hasty retaliation and full-on retreat. A gut-check reveals the resolve of earlier is gone, expelled like exhaust on the ride here. Regret sits like a bitter brick in my stomach.
    The damnable thorn of friendship won’t let me forget there is blood pooling under Ray, and if he’s not finished twitching yet, he will be soon. Could he be saved if medical attention arrives within the next few minutes? I won’t know if I leave him out there.
    The unfortunate fact is the agents have pounced on the first inner door and are doing their best to open it. Faltering between “the right thing” or “what Ray would do” will fast-forward me to a point where neither will matter, so I opt for a temporary retreat and turn toward the door behind me.
    In the midst of panic, I kick the box out of the way. The door draws shut with a reassuring thud of the locking mechanism. On the other side, I take several steps backward and wait. Will the door blast open? Will it be released with a gentle overriding of the lock? The agents must be past the outer room now, one step closer to what I assume is their goal.
    Maybe that’s jumping to conclusions. Suppose the Illuma Corp has nothing to do with Thomas Worthington’s disappearance, and they were not behind the theft of the first machine—both assumptions I’ve accepted as true in the last five minutes. It could be this is their first appearance on the scene.
    No, these are the bastards with the remote-control planes of death; they have to be responsible. First the attack on me, now this brute force assault—both betray conspiracy.
    Where does this leave me? Ray’s assertions are fresh in my mind. “Intellectual mercenaries.” “They’ll come back for the others.” I didn’t understand at first, but now I see what he meant. The Illuma Corp will have no obstacles in their pursuit of this technology.
    Scraping sounds from the other side of the steel door draw me several feet closer. What are they trying to do? A step nearer and violent blows reverberate through the metal. I retreat once more, stumbling in between the forklifts and unrecognizable machinery. None of them will provide shelter.
    Searching for the controls, I wonder how much noise the hangar doors make when opened. Would the agents hear? If I could get to my bike… No, I would have to go all the way around the hangar to get there. It’s got to be at least a thousand feet and the agents might meet me in the lot.
    And Ray—I keep seeing him fall to the floor, no fight in him left. All the frustration I have with his short-sighted devotion moves to the back burner. Now there’s just pity and guilt.
    Why wasn’t I more adamant about seeking help? Why did I go