I paused, looking left and right, but I didn't see anyone, and no heavy footsteps thumped in this direction. I padded over to the door and pressed my ear against it, but I didn't hear any movement on the other side. The metal was too thick for that. Good. That meant that whoever was inside the security center probably hadn't heard us either.
Too bad I had no idea how many more of Clementine's men might be inside. One, two, a dozen. I had no way of knowing, but it was a chance I had to take. I needed to make sure Owen was okay, and I needed to see exactly what Clementine was making him do that was so important. Both of those things would help me plan my next move.
I dropped to a knee beside the dead giant and started patting him down - another calculated risk, but I was hoping that it would be at least a couple of minutes before someone decided to investigate why the frozen camera wasn't working. There were at least fifty giants in the museum, and I needed some more weapons to kill them with.
But there wasn't much to find. He didn't have any ID on him, and the only thing of real value or interest was the leather utility belt he wore. In addition to the gun I'd noticed earlier, the belt also contained an extra clip of ammo, a metal baton, a small bottle of pepper spray, and, most important, a walkie-talkie. The device was turned on, but currently no squawks or cracks of static echoed from the black plastic.
I unbuckled the belt and tugged it out from underneath the giant's body. I stood and cinched it around my waist, looping it as tight as it would go. Even then, it sagged and rode low on my hips. Good enough.
Then I did something that would have made Finn wince with agony and shriek with despair: I chopped up my dress.
Using my bloody knife, I sliced off the bottom half of the skirt, so that the fabric ended just above my knees. I also made several more slits in the skirt, making it easier for me to reach through them and get to the second knife I had strapped to my thigh. Finn would no doubt bitch and moan when he saw what a hack job I'd done on the beautiful gown, but the long skirt just wasn't practical for fighting. Besides, the giant's blood had already ruined it, and I imagined I'd get the garment quite a bit more messy before the night was through. More like before the next two minutes were up.
I also used my knife to cut the extra fabric into long strips, threading a couple of them through the straps on my heels and tying them to the left side of the utility belt. I couldn't risk wearing the shoes, but I didn't want to wander around barefoot all night either. I stuffed the rest of the fabric strips into a pouch on the belt.
As a final measure, I checked the giant's gun, making sure the safety was off and that there was a round in the chamber. I also practiced drawing it out of the holster a few times until I could do it quickly and smoothly. I didn't much care for guns, but I'd use them if the situation called for it - and it certainly did tonight.
When I was ready, I leaned over and grabbed the key card from where it had landed next to the giant's body, using the edge of my shortened skirt to wipe the blood off the plastic. Then I turned toward the door and drew in a breath.
I wasn't sure what I would find behind the metal, but I was as ready as I could be to face it - and to kill whatever danger might be coming my way.
Chapter 11
I slid the card through the reader. A light on the top flashed a bright green, and the door snicked open. I stuffed the card into a pouch on the utility belt and tightened my grip on my knife.
I rushed through the opening, my knife up and ready to slice into whoever was standing inside. But instead of cutting down another giant or two, I found myself in an empty hallway.
Actually, it was more like an antechamber, a wide stub of a room. A wooden coat rack stood in the corner, its empty arms making it look like a scalped tree. A series of metal lockers lined the left wall, fronted by a long metal bench.
My gaze snapped to the second, interior door ahead of me, and I waited, just waited, for someone to open it.
But no one did.
No one came to investigate. No one poked a head out of the interior room to ask a question of a fellow robber. No one ambled over to the snack machine that hummed against the right wall, its fluorescent bulbs flickering like a bug zapper.
Well, if they weren't going to come out to me, I had no problems going in to them.
Still moving as quietly as possible, I pulled the exterior door shut behind me and headed for the one at the far end of the chamber. This door was made of wood instead of metal, and I could hear music playing, some twangy country song about a woman getting revenge on a man who done her wrong. Even worse, whoever was on the other side was singing along in a very loud, very screechy, very off-key voice. I winced. Somebody needed some singing lessons. A chorus of dogs howling and cats hissing would have sounded better. But the caterwauling told me that there was only one person inside. No one else would have put up with the country-western karaoke act.
I shut the awful screeching out of my mind, reached forward, and tried the knob. It turned easily, and I opened the door just a crack. The actual security center wasn't much bigger than the antechamber, and a series of monitors took up the back wall, along with several keyboards, joysticks, and a control panel, all arranged on a long table. Another table stood at a right angle to the first one. It too was covered with monitors, although all of those screens were fuzzy with snow.
No wonder, since they were peppered with bullet holes. I eyed the monitors and the blue and white sparks flickering inside them. Judging from the blood spatters on the broken glass, someone had been shot in front of the monitors. Maybe even more than one person, given the amount of blood.
A couple of chairs squatted in front of the screens that were still working, but only one was occupied. The offending singer was another giant, one who was tossing her long black hair from side to side as she rocked back and forth in her chair to the music like she was some kind of country diva. An iPod blared on the table. I eyed the device. That was going to be the second thing in here that I killed.
I held my position, waiting to see if the giant would sense me watching her, but she was too engrossed in her song, so my gaze moved past her to the bank of monitors. A few of the screens were dark, but almost all of the cameras that were on were focused on the rotunda, showing the hostages from several different angles. One screen on the top row of monitors was fuzzy, as though there was a thick film covering the lens. That must be the camera in the hallway that I'd Iced over. I also spotted Clementine and Owen on one of the monitors in the far bottom left corner, although I couldn't tell what they were doing from this distance.
The song on the iPod finally came to an end, and, mercifully, so did the giant's singing. She leaned forward and grabbed the device, as though she was going to cue up another song. While she was distracted, I tucked my knife back into its slot and grabbed the gun out of the holster on my belt. I used the nozzle of the gun to push the door open slowly the rest of the way. Three in the head, dead, dead, dead, just like Dixon had said -