Seamus lay helplessly on the department store floor, gazing up at the high-level geek who had just knocked the hell out of him and sent him crashing down into the shattered glass.

Life was just full of ironies sometimes.

“So… what do you want me to do next?” Harold Bemis said, in a voice so shockingly high that Seamus wondered if it was possible the man had not yet been through puberty. Who would know? He doubted there were any women who could testify on the topic.

The fallen sniper lying only a few feet away slowly pushed himself up. He was cut in about a hundred places and his forehead was caked with blood. He was obviously having trouble seeing. The perfume and blood mixture still stung, but he was managing.

“Son of a bitch,” the assassin growled. As soon as he was fully on his feet, he reared back and kicked Seamus right in the ribs.

Seamus winced. That hurt, and the man had kicked him exactly where he had been injured before. He had suspected he might have damaged a rib earlier. Now he was certain of it.

And just to add a little more pain to the situation, the bastard kicked him again.

“Goddamn Americans,” the man swore. He spat into Seamus’s face. “All you know is the torture!”

Seamus suspected it wouldn’t help him to remind the guy that this had all started because he was trying to kill Seamus in cold blood. Logic probably wasn’t his strong suit.

“Can we get out of here?” Bemis said nervously. “It’s only a matter of time before mall security shows up.”

“Then I will shoot them down like the dogs that they are,” replied the sniper.

“Yeah, unless they get you first. Let’s just get out of here.”

“And let this scum live?”

Bemis shrugged in a goofy way that suggested that he couldn’t decide whether he wanted vanilla or rocky road, not that he was deciding whether someone lived or died. “I don’t care. Whatever you’re going to do, just do it already.”

“Perhaps I should call Ishmael.”

Ishmael, Seamus thought. Almost certainly a code name for some high muckety-muck in the terrorist cell. Of course to him, Ishmael brought to mind Moby Dick. But to these people, it was much more likely a reference to the second son of Abraham. The progenitor of the Islamic faith. The ancestor of Muhammad.

“Don’t you think he has enough on his mind right now? He asked you to bring me to the location. As quickly as possible. I gather there’s a problem.”

“Yes. The military are fighting against your virus. They are making some progress.”

Bemis nodded. “I’m not surprised. I warned him they would react quickly if you announced what you had. Better to just do it.”

“That is not what the colonel wanted.”

“Whatever. We don’t have time for this. Do it and let’s get out of here.”

Seamus glanced one way, then the other. No one was visible. Had no one called in a disturbance?

He looked all around himself for a potential weapon-and found nothing. They had him pinned down like a dead butterfly. There was simply no way he could do anything in time.

The assassin recovered his gun from where it had fallen, then crouched down on one knee and pressed the pistol against Seamus’s left temple.

“If you have a God you pray to, this is your last chance.”

“You know we’ll stop you, don’t you?” Seamus said defiantly. “You and all your buddies. You’ll end up in prison. Or dead.”

“It is you who is about to die.”

“There won’t be any virgins at the penitentiary. And the only sex you’ll be involved with will be exceedingly unpleasant.”

“Goodbye, American pig.” He smiled a little as his finger tightened on the trigger.

At first Seamus couldn’t tell what had happened. The killer looked at him quizzically, then his neck stiffened, and a moment later he dropped to the floor like an anvil.

Keys were sticking out of the back of his neck. Two were embedded deep in his flesh. He wouldn’t be getting up for a good while. If ever.

Seamus didn’t wait for an explanation. He pushed himself up as quickly as possible and grabbed the gun. He whirled around-

Arlo was pointing a weapon at Bemis.

“What are you doing here?”

Arlo kept his eye trained on his fellow geek. “Saving your butt, that’s what.”

“I told you to stay in the car!”

“Well, I disobeyed. Which is why you’re still alive.”

Seamus squinted. “What is that you’ve got, anyway?”

Arlo twitched. “Have you got the gun?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.” Arlo flipped the black object around. “It’s a thumb drive. Take it with me everywhere I go.”

Bemis’s brow creased. “I thought it was a taser, man.”

Arlo smiled. “You need to get out more.”

Seamus took the little piece of plastic and metal. “Does it shoot bullets?”

“Nah. It doesn’t do anything, unless you’ve got a USB port. Except it turns out to be useful against particularly stupid archcriminals.”

“I saw you in the car following me, Arlo,” Bemis said. “Why are you helping these clowns?”

“Why are you helping terrorists who are trying to blow up the country? I mean, I knew you were hurting for money, but this is treason!”

Bemis rolled his eyes. “Don’t be stupid. It’s all just a big game.”

“Well, your game almost got me killed this morning, Harold. And almost killed my friend just now.” He grinned. “Until I showed up to save the day.”

“Don’t get too proud of yourself, kid,” Seamus grunted.

“Why? You had a gun, and you ended up flat on your butt. I saved the day with a flash drive and your car keys.”

Seamus decided to let that go. The kid had handled the situation well, even if Seamus was never going to admit it aloud.

He grabbed Bemis by the collar. “Tell me. Now.”

“I-I don’t know what you want.”

“I think you do,” Seamus said, tightening his grip. “Spill it. Where’s the operations base? Where are they controlling the satellite?”

“I don’t know,” he said helplessly.

Seamus didn’t want to believe him, but at this point, he seemed well past any ability to dissemble. Or to do anything else other than possibly wet himself. “Didn’t I hear you say you and your friend were going there next?”

“Yeah, but I don’t know where it is. That’s why he was supposed to pick me up here. He was going to take me.”

“You weren’t there when they fired the first two missiles?”

Bemis shook his head furiously. “They didn’t need me.”

“But they do now.”

“Apparently so. I got a text. Want to see it?”

“Yeah. As a matter of fact, I do.” He took Bemis’s cell phone and began punching buttons.

“I think he’s lying,” Arlo said.

“I am not. I never lie.”

“Last week at D.C. Bytes you said you hadn’t done any programming in months.”

“Well… that wasn’t a lie. That was a cover story.”

“Same diff!”

“Children, please,” Seamus said. “I need information, not quarreling.”

Bemis stared up at the ceiling. “I’m not telling you anything. I don’t care what you do to me. I won’t talk.”

“I’ll bet you would. In about ten seconds. But unfortunately, I don’t think you know anything.”

“So I can’t tell you where this base is.”

“Ah,” Seamus said, pressing a hand against his aching rib cage. “That’s where you’re wrong. You’re going to tell me everything I need to know.”