"My Lord, they have him."
I felt an icy chill sweep through me as I heard those words from Stefan, and I let my legs drop me into one of Dithra's sofas with a plop. I didn't need to ask who he was; there could be only one. "How?" I asked at last.
"I do not know, my Lord," Stefan replied grimly "he was tasked to gather what information he could on the building's defenses. Perhaps he made a mistake. All we know is that he has been apprehended, and is being held."
I sighed, rubbed my face with both hands. You poor bastard. Was it all just a trap after all? "Do they know we're coming?"
"I believe so, my Lord. I'm informed that there is a great deal of activity at the site."
I felt my lips compress into a hard thin line. Damn it, damn it, DAMN IT! I took too long! "Moving the kids, or digging in?"
Stefan paused for a long moment before answering, his face pensive. "They're not moving your children, my Lord, this I know from my remaining agents. Therefore, I believe they are strengthening their defenses."
"Turning the whole place into a great big booby trap, no doubt," I snarled quietly, then rubbed my eyes. "Damn." I sat there for several long moments, silently cursing myself for letting the sole opportunity to rescue my children, whom I'd never seen and now probably never would, slip right through my fingers.
"My Lord, I believe that perhaps we can turn this to our advantage."
I froze, then looked up at Dithra's agent. "What do you mean?"
Stefan hesitated under my flat stare, but then continued. "Ahnkar's camp knows we are coming, so we should manipulate this fact. We will be coming, yes, but with far more strength than their forces can safely handle without putting what they are striving to protect into jeopardy."
I guess I was especially slow that day, because I just sat there and blinked stupidly up at Stefan. "What are you talking about? I only have six guys. They're good, but not that good!"
"Perhaps, my Lord," the ex-Stasi agent replied, a small smile hovering about his lips "but when I am finally finished feeding false information to our adversaries, they will think it not six but sixty."
Finally I started to get it. "You're gonna spook them. Make them jump."
"Yes, my Lord." That little smile was beginning to alight. "Our resources are limited, true, but Ahnkar's are not infinite either. They cannot tolerate the chance they may lose what they have, so, if I can do this correctly, they will have no choice but to move your family to safer location. Perhaps they will lay a trap at the old location to crush our force and capture you, but they will move your children first. I am sure of it."
I gazed up at Stefan, the shroud of utter gloom about my thoughts beginning to show signs of breaking up. No competent human commander would ever fall for it, but then again, no human commander had to worry about the extinction of his entire race. "Then we hit them at their new site before they have a chance to set up a perimeter," I finished for Stefan. "Brilliant."
That smile finally found a home. "Thank you, my Lord, but I have yet to accomplish this plan."
Perhaps, but betting on you is a hell of a lot safer than betting against you, Stefan. "You have the resources?"
"I believe so, my Lord."
"Then let's get started. Let's get that pompous bag of hot air thinking he's about to get the whole of the 82nd Airborne dropped on his head. . . ."
It took three days. Three days in which I could do little except fidget, but finally Ahnkar panicked. He jumped, praise the Ancestors, not only to a different location, but to one we could get plans for!
Lord, what a difference one little mistake can make. Within twelve hours we had secured a full set of blueprints. A few hours after that we had photos from Stefan's agents. Grease took a quick trip to the nearest office supply store for materials, and within an amazingly short time he and Deebs had put together a scale model of our target, using construction board and rubber cement. By sunset the team had taken that model apart and put it back together again so many times we could have found our way around the place half-blind and dead-drunk. A dozen dress-rehearsals out behind Schmoo's old barn, and we were ready.
I took a deep breath, held it for a moment, let it out. "Okay," my eyes swept the motel room's occupants "any more questions? Comments? Snide remarks?" That last brought a quiet chuckle. "Good." My eye caught that of Dithra's agent where he leaned against the far wall. "According to our latest info, our agent, the guy who got us this far, was moved out today and is being held in a separate location. We're going to spring him at the same time we're hitting this place." I gestured at the battered remains of Grease's model with the mostly-untouched beer bottle I held in my hand. "Stefan and Dithra will handle that, as security should be light, and will get lighter when news of our raid gets around. I really wish Stefan was going with us--" I nodded to the agent. His lips compressed into a thin line of disapproval, but finally he signaled his reluctant agreement once again. "—But we owe this guy." Murmurs of agreement on that one; Stefan looked surprised. I smiled at him. "Rule Number One, Stefan; everybody goes home."
I paused, then once again scanned the room. Lucifer was smiling his little smile. The Mad Mink was also smiling, nodding slightly, almost rocking in place. Wolfman nodded to me reassuringly. Grease, Fields and Deebs simply looked grimly competent.
Finally I spoke once more. "We're moving out in the next fifteen minutes, and I figure to hit the place by 0300 tonight. We go in, grab what we're after, get out. Anything gets in our way, we go through it. Take no chances." I paused for a long moment, then slowly raised the lukewarm beer in salute. "Everybody goes home," I said, my voice strangely husky.
A moment, then other beer bottles held in other hands were lifted to clink with mine.
"Everybody goes home."