Minutes to Burn

Rex tried to lift one of the cruise boxes and couldn't get it off the ground. With a smirk, Szabla hoisted it up and motioned Rex ahead of her. "Why don't you be a gentleman and get the door?" she said.

Inside, the wallpaper was bubbled and peeled, the maroon carpet worn thin around the front desk. Savage stopped beneath a particularly gruesome sculpture of Christ on the cross, nailed to the wall beside reception. He ran a finger across the crown of thorns and rubbed his fingertips, as if expecting the blood to come off on them.

The squad followed Derek up the stairs, hauling the gear. They circled up in the first bedroom of the third floor, stacking the gear in the corner.

Derek opened the lid of the weapons box, revealing the foam interior. Removing the magazine from his M-4, he placed the gun inside, tossing the mag in a nearby cruise box, where it landed on one of the two spare ammo crates. He gestured for the others to do the same. "Make sure you clear and safe your weapons," he said. "Sigs too."

Rex looked up in disgust at the vents. "An ozone hole the size of Mars and the air conditioner's running full blast." He started for the dial on the wall, but Szabla blocked him.

"Not in this heat, you don't," she said. "CFCs be damned."

"It's precisely that kind of-"

Derek cleared his throat. "We'll take the rooms in buddy pairs. Me and Cam'll stay here. Szabla and Justin, you guys are straight across the hall. I want Savage and Tucker next door to you, and Rex and Tank in the next room down."

"I think I can manage alone," Rex said. "Tempting as it sounds, I don't think I'm really in need of a 'buddy.'"

Derek ignored him. Tank sat down on one of the beds with a grunt, pulling off a boot. He snapped his fingers, and Justin pulled a can of Tinactin from his kit bag and tossed it to him.

When the others had finished putting away their M-4s and 9mm Sig Sauer p226s, Derek counted the mags in the cruise box, making sure they were all accounted for. Since he was standing watch, he kept a loaded pistol in his belt.

The sound of a crying baby issued through the thin wall. Derek stiffened, his face blanching. Cameron coughed loudly to draw attention away from him. The crying continued. Probably the baby that got sunburnt.

Rex punched a number into his sat phone. He hung up and dialed again. "A recording says the north part of the city's still out. I tried before from the airport."

Some of the color was returning to Derek's face, but he still looked unsteady.

"So the north part of the city's out," Szabla said. "Who gives a shit?"

"That's where Dr. Ramirez's lab is."

Szabla looked at Rex with irritation. "Need I repeat my question?"

"I haven't had an opportunity to inform him of our departure time tomorrow. If he's going to meet us at the airport for the flight, he needs to know when it is."

"So go tell him."

"It's through the UN cordon."

"Now we're an escort service," Szabla said.

"Doubt you'd get many bookings in that line of work," Rex said. "Look, someone needs to accompany me. Why don't you take a vote or something?"

"This is the navy," Szabla said. "We don't vote."

"I'll go," Cameron said. "Me and Tank. That okay, LT? LT?"

Derek snapped from his trance. The baby's cries had stopped. "What?"

"Me and Tank'll accompany Rex to find Dr. Ramirez. That all right?"

Derek nodded. "With all the attitude we're running into, I want you to keep it low-key around the UN troops. Change into civies and keep your Sigs out of view." Opening the weapons box, he pulled out two pistols and tossed them to Cameron and Tank. He slammed the lid, locked both padlocks, and looped the keychain around his neck.

"Anyone finds out you're carrying and it's my ass. If you run into trouble with UN or domestic, flash ID; with the element, retaliate reasonably. I'm assuming you'll be fine. It's broad daylight, and I'm pleasantly surprised by the stability of the city, even beyond the checkpoints. We'll wait for you here, and see about dinner later." He flipped Cameron a rubber-banded wad of sucres, bluish-green on one side, red and orange on the other.

Cameron wedged the money into her front pants pocket, safe from pickpockets. The baby next door let loose with a scream, and she saw Derek's face tighten, as if he were bracing for a punch. He regained his composure quickly. No one else seemed to notice.

"The lab is out by Julian Coronel," Rex said. "It's not the nicest part of town."

Tank laid an enormous hand on Rex's shoulder, guiding him toward the door.

"Don't worry," Cameron said. She stole another glance at Derek before turning to follow. "You're in good hands."

Chapter 10

The paper crackled as he inhaled, the orange ring of the cherry inching its way down the length of the joint toward his generous lips and well-manicured mustache. Diego Byron Rodriguez held the burn in his lungs for a moment, his chest stretching the fabric of his cheap Darwin Station T-shirt, and surveyed the mess around him.