Resistance by John Birmingham Page B

ground. The agent was already there to catch her, but his body suddenly flew across the room, crashing into the wall which buckled under the impact.
    Dave had accelerated from a standing start, shoulder-charging the man out of the way and scooping up Georgia as though she were a new bride he intended to carry across the threshold. The sudden blur of movement and the violent shock of seeing Trinder’s man flung across the room as though hit by a car startled all of the other agents into defensive postures. Dave found himself targeted by a dozen firearms, some of them looking like serious pieces of handheld artillery, including a couple of machine guns with abnormally long hand grips from which he could see extended magazines protruding.
    For an awful moment he was convinced they were going to shoot even though he held an innocent woman in front of him. As though she was some sort of human shield.
    The thought of what someone like Trinder would do with that, the lies he would tell about what had happened, paralysed Dave for a moment.
    ‘Okay, everyone just calm down.’
    It was Heath, his voice strangely soothing. He spoke softly, but with enough projection to carry his words to everyone in the room.
    ‘Dave, put down the young lady. Do it gently. Put her on that couch over there.’
    Hooper did as he was told, aware of all the gun muzzles tracking him as he moved slowly across the room to deposit the unconscious young woman into the two-seater lounge her techs or Armando had pushed up against the wall. She looked much younger asleep in his arms, and he experienced an unfamiliar wash of hot emotion across his face.
    It might have been shame.
    ‘Agent Trinder,’ Heath said then, ‘it seems pretty obvious to me that Mr Hooper won’t be going anywhere against his will. So unless you have an executive order I can lay eyes on right here and now, I’m afraid you’re stuck with asking him nicely. And since you just knocked out his girlfriend . . .’
    ‘Well, I don’t know that I’d call her a girlfriend . . .’ Dave said.
    ‘Dave, not helping.’
    ‘Shutting up now.’
    Heath picked up the thread again.
    ‘So, unless he is inexplicably enthused by the prospect of going on an adventure with you I would suggest,’ and now his voice became hard, ‘you’re shit out of luck.’
    This time Dave saw the agent tensing to move before he actually moved. To the men who were watching closely, Dave appeared to pop out of existence, before popping back in behind the suit who was suddenly gargling and waving his arms about while Dave stood close, restraining the man with what looked like a reasonably soft one-armed chokehold. He grinned and held aloft the small gel packet containing whatever drug they had used to knock out Georgia.
    He winked at Trinder.
    ‘How’s this work?’
    And he jammed the small half-inch spike into his own neck before giving the gel sac a little squeeze. Trinder’s eyes went wide, but Heath merely rolled his in exasperation. Dave grinned.
    ‘Whoa. Donald, my man. You been holding out, dog. That is some sweet shit. You gotta hook me up with your dealer.’
    Dave let go of the agent he held at the same time as he flicked the gel sac into Trinder’s chest. The first man slumped to the floor, gagging. The second didn’t move so much as a muscle.
    ‘So, do you have an executive order?’ Heath asked in a tired voice. When Trinder didn’t reply the smallest hint of a smile played across Heath’s otherwise stern-looking face. ‘I didn’t think so.’
    ‘Not that it would make any difference,’ Dave added. ‘Just so you know.’
    Trinder lowered his gun, a signal to all of the other agents to do the same. He regarded Hooper in silence for a moment before coming to a decision.
    ‘Mr Hooper, I can see we got off on the wrong foot here.’
    Dave burst out laughing, genuine laughter it was too, driven by the utter sincerity with which this asshole had just spoken. His reaction seemed to catch Trinder by