Dark Angel: Skin Game Read Free Page A

building."
    When this becomes somebody's else's job, Thompson thought.
    Yet, while he would hate to admit it, Thompson knew that what Hankins said actually made sense. Slowly pulling the flashlight beam off the corpse, Thompson forced himself to turn away and walk out of the office.
    He climbed the stairs to the second floor. Even darker than the first, this level had been subdivided into smaller rooms which lined either side of a central corridor that ran the length of the building, starting at the freight elevator that squatted next to the stairwell.
    Though a thick layer of dust still covered the floor, this level seemed cleaner than the last, somehow—no debris, no shattered glass. He was just about to go up the stairs to the

    third floor, when he decided to take the time to double check. He turned and played the beam over the corridor in front of him.
    At first glance he hadn't spotted them, but now—on this second, closer look—he saw the wet footprints, running down the hall but close to the wall at right. Were those Hankins' footprints?
    No—his partner was still up on sixth; and anyway, these were smaller than Hankins'
    big feet would make, not as wide, and longer. And leading to the third door on the left.
    . . .
    Acid churned in Thompson's stomach as he considered what it might be like to go one-on-one with a transgenic. They could vary in strength, in abilities, and defects, depending on what animal DNA had been mixed into their personal genetic soup.
    Some of them were human, even beautiful.
    Others were grotesque combinations of man and beast. "Hankins," he whispered into the headset. "Yeah?" The older man's voice sounded resigned and maybe a little pissed off.
    "I've got footprints on the second floor. They're wet and they're fresh."
    Any skepticism or irritation disappeared from Hankins' voice: "What's the imager say?"
    Thompson returned his automatic to its holster and pulled out the imager. Watching the imager drawing blanks as its invisible beam moved up the hallway, he suddenly felt naked without the pistol in his hand, and when a red flare blipped up on the imager's tiny monitor screen, he damn near threw the thing down the hall in his anxiety to reach for his weapon.
    "You still with me, kid?" Hankins asked. In spite of himself, Thompson jumped a little when Hankins' voice made its appearance in his ear.

    "Got a hot body," Thompson said, "but its temp is below a hundred."
    "Probably not a transgenic."
    "Probably not."
    "Shit, though—I'm on my way. Hang loose till I get there."
    Thompson felt his nerve returning a little as he realized that whatever was in the room ahead probably wasn't a transgenic.
    "It's all right, man," he said into the headset. "I'm all over it."
    "You sure, kiddo?"
    Slipping the imager back into his pocket, Thompson pulled out his Glock; his stomach was still fluttery, but— goddamnit—this was his job, and he would do it. "Yeah, I'm sure."
    Hankins' voice came back clearly, all business now. "You let me know what you find.
    You need me, I'm there in a heartbeat."
    "Right," he said, almost feeling affection for the older man—and wasn't that a rarity....
    Thompson remained cautious, shining his light into each room as he moved down the hall. He wasn't checking them carefully—somebody or something was on this floor, and he was moving it right along, accordingly—but the imager had shown nothing, and the quick playing of the beam around the rooms assured him the new gizmo wasn't on the fritz.
    Outside the third door on the left, he stopped, calmed his breathing, and once he was steady, he swung through the open door, his arms extended in front of him, the flashlight moving from right to left.
    His flashlight sweep was halfway around the room when he heard the whoosh in the blackness to his left. In the grim darkness, he saw a length of two-by-four arcing through the air!

    Before he could react, though, the board crashed down across his arms and the flashlight and pistol