StarCraft II: Devils' Due (31 page)

quite literal y blow the door off the vault itself. Ash

stood by, his eyes flickering from Rafe and Win—they

were affixing the explosives and working up the wiring

—to Tychus. A frown was deepening on Ash’s face.

“This is too risky, damn it,” he muttered.

Jim stepped over to him. He and the others could

move freely without fear of spider repercussion. Each

man either wore or had stashed in a pocket one of

Jennifer and Gustav’s stylish-looking watches that

emitted a signal that made the spiders regard them

as “friendly.” The Umojan couple was proving to be an

amazing team; Tychus had told Jim the spiders, as

wel as the vest, were Jennifer’s creations, whereas

Gustav had crafted both the pocket watch and its

ability to trigger an EMP.

“None of us wanted to go early,” Jim said.

“Everything else is in place, isn’t it? Our end of it is

going perfectly.”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s al in place. Our guy won’t be there

to help us haul the creds, but things should be set up

at the suite.” Ash wiped his damp face.

“Wel , then, nothing to worry about. Just have to

make a couple extra trips to get it al up there. We got

time.” They had a ful hour before the spiders self-

destructed. That was one of the things Tychus and

Jim had insisted on. Ash had wanted them to just kil

everyone immediately rather than hold them hostage.

“No witnesses,” he had said as they sat plotting in

Jack’s Spot. “Nice and clean.”

“Yeah, no witnesses, but a couple dozen bodies

and a couple dozen counts of first-degree murder,”

Jim had said. “And that certainly ain’t clean.”

“No one’s gonna find us,” Ash had retorted.

“Maybe not. But we stil ain’t doing it. My source

who makes the spiders don’t work that way,” Tychus

had replied. “Besides, if the spiders self-destruct, they

can’t be traced. And that, my friend, is operating

clean.”

Ash had rol ed his eyes, muttered something about

“soft,” but had agreed. He’d real y had no choice.

“I’d prefer to use that time to get out of here,” Ash

said, bringing Jim back to the present, “but we gotta

run with this.”

Rafe and Win rose and nodded. “Al set,” they said.

They hurried out of the vault room and closed the door

so that they would al be protected from the blast

within.

A few seconds later, there was a huge but muffled

boom. The five men exchanged grins despite the

tension of the situation.

“That never gets old,” Tychus said.

“Let’s go, let’s go!” Ash ordered, his grin fading as

he became al business again. The vault lock had

been wel and properly blown, and they pul ed open

the door.

Inside were dozens of safety deposit boxes, each

containing hundreds of thousand-credit coins. It was

an almost overwhelming moment, and it was ful y

three seconds before Jim stepped forward and

quickly began manual y unlocking the boxes. Ash’s

men sprang into action as soon as the boxes were

open. Tucked into the lining of their jackets were

several bags made of material thin enough to fold

easily and strong enough to support the weight of al

those liberated credits. Jim fol owed, removing his

own sacks and starting to fil them. A smile curved his

lips as he did so.

Tychus had been right. The gamblers whose money

this doubtless was would never miss it. However, it

would give him the fresh new start he found himself

yearning for more with every passing day.

“I have to say, Mr. Raynor,” came Woodley’s voice,

“I’m right disappointed in you and Mr. Findlay.”

Ash sneered and reached for his weapon. Jim put

a firm hand on his arm and shook his head. “Don’t.

We don’t need to add murder to this.”

The blond man grimaced but lowered his weapon,

impaling George Woodley with an angry stare.

“You should probably be quiet, Mr. Woodley,” Jim

said.

“Wel , I’m afraid I do have to say it. I’m mighty

disappointed in you. I wasn’t mad at you when I was

reassigned after you robbed that train. I was happy to

get a new job here. I understand you need to, uh, do

what you do and al , but from Farm Aid? I thought you

was a better class of criminal than that.”

Jim froze.

Then, deliberately, he moved over to where

Woodley stood stock-stil , his hand stil halfway to his

comm, his eyes fixed on the tiny mechanical spider at

his feet.

“What did you say?”

“I said I am surprised you would be stealing money

from Farm Aid. That money goes to help people who

need it. It doesn’t belong to wealthy gamblers or Old

Families. Wel , it did—I mean, they were the ones

who donated it—but it goes to—”

“I know who it goes to,” Jim growled, turning to look

at Tychus. “I just didn’t know where it came from. But

you
did, didn’t you, Tychus?”

“Jimmy, just listen up a moment …,” said Tychus,

lifting a hand in a placating manner.

“Fekk that. You
knew
! And you didn’t tel me

because you knew I wouldn’t go along with it! That

money
helps
people.
My
people.”

“It’s a goddamned tax break for folks who have way

too much money—that’s what it is,” Tychus retorted.

“Jimmy, the only reason this Farm Aid was even

created was to help the rich out. Help them feel good

about themselves and their empty but very wealthy

lives. Come on, I know you know that!”

“That doesn’t matter! That money lets people stay

in their homes, Tychus. It means they got enough to

eat. It means their
kids
got enough to eat. And you

didn’t tel me!”

“That’s because sometimes you’re too stubborn

and stupid for your own good,” Tychus said, his brows

drawing together. “Shut up and take the damned

credits, Jim. Then you can be a rich big baby and

indulge your morals al you want to. So help me, if we

get out of this alive, I’m gonna kick your ass so hard

—”

There came a sudden high-pitched whine. Out of

the corner of his eye, Jim saw movement. Faster than

he would have believed possible, he whirled and

brought his foot crashing down on the tiny spider that

was scuttling toward Woodley’s feet, smashing it to

bits before it could inject its venom into the terrified

agent.

“Th-thank you kindly, Mr. Raynor,” Woodley

managed in a weak voice.

“Aw, shit,” Tychus muttered. “Why the fekk did you

have to go and do that, Ash?”

Jim looked around, aghast at what he saw.

Dead. They were al dead. The tel ers, the guards,

the poor saps who had done nothing but come into a

bank to make a deposit or withdraw some cash—they

lay slumped where they had fal en. At least they didn’t

look like it had hurt. While he could imagine the lovely

Jennifer putting a lethal toxin into the spiders for

emergency purposes, he couldn’t see her choosing

one that would cause undue pain.

He turned slowly around to face Ash. “You activated

the spiders, you son of a bitch. These people did

nothing. Why did you do that?”

“To get you to shut up and focus,” Ash said. “Get

your ass in here and get back to loading up the

money. At least we don’t have a stupid hour time limit

now.”

Something snapped, cold and final, inside of

Raynor. He looked down at the two sacks of creds he

held, then opened his hands. They dropped to the

floor, spil ing their contents. Jim lifted his gaze.

“I’m done,” was al he said. He turned around and

strode to the door.

“Don’t you touch that door,” snarled Ash. “Raynor!

Raynor!
”

Jim kept moving.

And the bul et ripped through him.

Jim grunted as the bul et seared his right

shoulder and heard Tychus bel ow in fury. Jim whirled,

gun in hand, to face Ash. But Tychus had beaten him

to it.

Tychus hadn’t bothered with a weapon. He
was

one.

He grasped Ash by the lapels as if the other man

weighed nothing at al and slammed him hard into the

wal . Ash went limp as a puppet when the strings were

cut. Tychus dropped him at once. Ash lay where he

had fal en, his head at an impossible angle.

Rafe and Win had been so surprised by the speed

of this turn of events that they were only now just

drawing their own weapons. Jim, gritting his teeth

against the pain of his wounded shoulder, lifted his

gun and fired. His arm was unsteady due to the injury

and wavered slightly. The bul et took Win in the upper

chest instead of the head, and the man grunted and

dropped his weapon.

Jim started to fire again, but Tychus was there. He

had Rafe’s throat in one powerful hand and crunched

down hard even as he sprang onto the wounded Win.

“You … don’t … shoot … my …
friend
!” he grunted,

punctuating each word with a solid punch into Win’s

thin, ratty-looking face. By the time he had reached

the word “shoot” Win’s face was a bloody mess, and

by the time he reached “friend,” it was obvious the

man was dead.

But Rafe wasn’t. He was stil struggling. Jim lifted

his gun, steadied his arm with his other hand, and

fired into Rafe’s chest.

There was silence in the bank as Jim and Tychus

caught their breath. Tychus was spattered in blood.

He turned to Jim with a large grin.

“It stopped bein’ about the money,” was al he said.

“Let’s take a look at that shoulder.”

They had gotten very good at field medicine, and

within a few moments Tychus had packed the wound

with antibiotics from a smal kit he’d brought with him

and bound it tightly. “You’re a lucky son of a bitch.

Bul et went clean through.”

“Search Ash,” Jim said. “Make sure we got

everything we need.”

Tychus went to the broken body and quickly went

through Ash’s pockets. “Good cal ,” he said. “He’s got

the key to the penthouse.” He relieved the corpse of

everything else of value as wel .

A thin whimper reached their ears. “Woodley,” Jim

said remorseful y. He’d forgotten al about the man.

“Don’t worry. If we weren’t gonna shoot you on the

train, we sure as hel ain’t gonna shoot you now. But

I’m afraid we gotta disable you for a bit.”

Woodley looked relieved. “Of course you do,” he

said. “I certainly understand. Are you gonna, um,

knock me out?”

Jim glanced around. His eye fel on the lifeless

bodies of their former cohorts. “Nah. Just going to

truss you up a bit. Tychus, get their ties?”

Three minutes later, George Woodley beamed up

at them as Tychus bound Woodley’s hands and feet

with Ash’s and Rafe’s ties. Tychus let a big hand fal

almost affectionately on Wood-ley’s head.

“You are one lucky devil, George Woodley. You

should write your memoirs:
How I Survived Two

Robberies by Tychus Findlay and James Raynor
.”

“Be kind to us in the retel ing, wil ya?” Jim said,

grinning.

“Of course, sirs, you know I wil !”

“I believe you,” Jim said, and he did. “And … I’m

glad you told me where the money came from.”

Woodley gave him an oddly sweet smile. “You’re

mighty welcome, Mr. Raynor. I knew something had to

be wrong. You just wasn’t the type to steal from poor

people who needed that money so bad.”

A lump rose in Jim’s throat. “No. No, I ain’t. Thanks

for stopping me from doing that.”

“I hate to break up this sweet scene, but time is

ticking by, and we did announce our presence by

blowing a safe and firing weapons,” Tychus said.

“Let’s get a move on.”

The elevator had been one of the casualties of the

EMP, and they didn’t dare risk the stairs. Tychus had

been right: once the safe had been blown, the

residents and employees of various businesses

located in the Covington Bank building had been

tipped off to something more than just a pesky power

outage. The luxury suite was fourteen stories up. In

their planning, they had intended to make sure that the

elevator car would be on the same floor as the bank

when the EMP hit. It was there now, too—either that’s

where it spent most of its time, or they had just been