"Then the Daemon is using GPS, too. Get me over Merritt's twenty."

Now out of the chase and heading through wide industrial streets, Gragg monitored a distant AutoM8's video feed as the pack of cars he just left accelerated onto an elevated portion of the 880 Freeway, smashing cars out of their way. California Highway Patrol units took up the chase on the freeway. Gragg couldn't help but smile. They were closing in.

He accelerated the distant AutoM8 pack toward the elevated junction with Highway 260-and the retaining wall at the steep curve. "This ought to be interesting…"

He selected the lead AutoM8 in the HUD and urged it on ahead of the others. Then he switched to video feed from a car farther back in the pack. The lead car screamed ahead like a missile, then crashed through the concrete retaining wall at a hundred miles an hour, spraying a vacant lot fifty feet below with pieces of concrete and twisted metal. The remaining pack, including the silver BMW, roared through the new gap in the wall and tumbled end over end through the air, smashing down on top of one another in a fiery wreck. The video feed turned to snow.

Done.Gragg took a deep breath and felt himself coming down off the adrenaline surge. He could imagine the police stopping to look out over a tangled pile of burning wreckage, scratching their heads, as police are wont to do. It would take them days to figure out. The nearest police car's GPS signal was a mile away.

He did a quick postmortem: the Daemon Task Force had been neutralized. It might mean another level for him.

A motorcycle streaked up alongside his car. The rider reached out with one hand, extending a submachine gun, and fired a short burst at Gragg's tires.

"What the hell?"

Gragg raised his gloved hands to fire the nova light, but then realized his blacked-out windows would ruin the effect. His armored windows didn't roll down either. "Son of a bitch."

Gragg motioned with his gloved hand and swerved the car toward the racing bike, but the bike was far more maneuverable. It ducked around to the right side of the car. Again, automatic gunfire cracked at his tires.

Gragg shook his head. "Solid rubber, asshole."

He reached out into D-Space and started drawing from the surrounding horde-pulling dozens of remaining AutoM8s toward him. "You want to play? Then let's play."

Ross and a Korr lieutenant peered through the recessed postern gate. Dozens of AutoM8s crisscrossed the tarmac, circling Building Twenty-Nine. Ross looked across the barren tarmac leading to the ship channel a hundred yards away. It was the longest hundred yards he'd ever seen.

Philips sat in the corridor with several more Korr guards. A medic wound a bandage around her head to cover her injured eyes, while the others trained weapons on the short corridor behind them.

Philips looked up blindly. "What's the situation?"

Ross and the lieutenant slammed the door with a clang and turned to face her. A roaring motorcycle engine, gunshots, and screams echoed through the interior halls.

A guard stared down the corridor. "We can't stay here, sirs."

"We need to run for it, Nat. Those Razorbacks appear to know the floor plan. They're methodically clearing rooms."

The lieutenant piped in, "They're armored, Doctor. Light weapons don't stop them. At least not from the front."

She nodded gravely.

"There's a ship channel about a hundred yards away. If we can reach that, we should be safe."

Ross turned to the lieutenant and pointed toward what appeared to be dynamite sticks snugged into his web harness. "What are those?"

The man glanced down. "Magnesium flares. To signal the medevac chopper. The radio was down for-"

"Break 'em out. These AutoM8s probably target with infrared. Flares could distract them."

The lieutenant pulled out six flares. He handed three to Ross. "Just twist the top off and strike them. Like this…" He pantomimed the action.

"Let's test this." Ross struck the flare several times before it ignited. He held it, hissing and popping in the corridor. It burned a brilliant red. "Open the door."

One guard heaved the heavy steel door open, and Ross hurled the flare as far as he could off to the right. He and several guards watched closely as an AutoM8 swerved to avoid it. Another swung wide around it.

The lieutenant frowned. "So much for the infrared theory."

Philips looked toward his voice. "What's happening?"

Ross shook his head. "They're not attracted to the flares, Nat. They're avoiding them."

"Then they areusing infrared. They're looking for human heat signatures. The flares must look like a raging fire."

Ross and the lieutenant exchanged looks. Ross nodded and knelt next to her. "You're right. We're in business, Nat." He removed his jacket and placed one empty sleeve in her hand, then grabbed the other one. "Don't let go of this. I'll guide you. We'll use the flares to conceal our human heat signature. The tarmac is flat. Just follow me and move as fast as you can."

"How many AutoM8s are there?"

"You don't want to know."

"Jon, I…" Her head darted to follow a roaring engine as it passed.

"I know it sucks you can't see. We'll get you to a hospital, but we need to do this to have any chance at all. Just run with me. You ready?"

She reluctantly nodded.

Ross turned to the Korr lieutenant. "You and your men ready, Lieutenant?"

A motorcycle engine revved and screams echoed behind them, punctuating his words. "Klausky, distribute these." He passed the magnesium flares. "We travel in a group. Place these on our perimeter."

The guards struck flares. Ross lit one for himself. Finally the six of them stood there with five lit flares. Ross pulled in front of the lieutenant with Philips in tow and looked out at the stream of AutoM8s racing past, waiting for a gap. "Okay…now!"

They bolted from the recessed doorway as a group and moved quickly across the tarmac-like deer running across a freeway.

The lieutenant barked, "Close it up!"

The nearest AutoM8s immediately screeched around and vectored toward them.

The lieutenant threw out his arm. "Stop moving! Stop!"

They all stopped, and the AutoM8 turned slightly aside, then roared past sixty feet to their left.

The group stood back-to-back on the tarmac, flares hissing and AutoM8s racing past them.

Ross shook his head. "Bad news, Nat; they're apparently attracted to lateral movement as well."

She nodded behind her blindfold. "Fires don't generally run around. I should have guessed Sobol would have more than one criterion."

The lieutenant pounded his helmeted forehead with his hand. "Hell of a time to realize that! Just fucking beautiful!" He looked back at the postern gate, already seventy feet behind them.

Ross's gaze followed a sedan racing past twenty feet away. "Okay. Let's try this: let's move slowlytoward the water."

The lieutenant shook his head. "Back toward the postern gate."

Philips turned to him. "Jon's right. We can't head back toward the Razorbacks. These AutoM8s must have a threshold of movement detection. We move slowly."

The lieutenant gave Ross a venomous look, since he was serving as Philips's eyes. He then finally nodded. "All right, Doctor."

They all slid their feet across the tarmac as AutoM8s raced past doing loops around the building. They seemed to be coming closer with each pass, but the group of evacuees managed to traverse another hundred and fifty feet. The water's edge was tantalizingly close.

A guard tapped Ross on the shoulder. "Hey! Hey, this side! Look out!"

Ross turned to see a Dodge easing to a stop fifty feet away. Facing them. Other AutoM8s still raced past.

Philips turned toward it. "What is it?"