by Orion Gaudio
Five shots rang out from inside the house in rapid succession, which was followed by the sound of a woman screaming. Turner stuck his head around the back of the SUV as the two guards turned and rushed back inside. He switched the Glock to his left hand, pulled out his knife, and ran after them.
The rapid fire of an SMG rang out just as he made it through the front door. Three of the guards were dead on the floor, but the other two were making their way toward the stairs.
Turner ran up behind them and plunged his knife into the neck of the one on his right. Another scream pierced the air, but he ignored it as he pulled the knife out and lunged at the other guard. The man tried to turn his SMG on Turner, but he was too slow. Turner jumped on him and rode him to the floor. He stabbed him in the heart, twisted the blade, and yanked it out. A gurgle escaped his lips as he died.
Turner jumped to his feet and looked around. He didn’t see Trivet. His wife was curled up on the floor of the kitchen, with her hands over her ears as she screamed.
“Shut up!”
She didn’t, but he didn’t have time to deal with her.
Turner ran up the stairs. He stopped at the top. Holloway was sitting on the floor in the hallway, applying pressure to his left forearm with his right hand.
“You alright?” Turner asked.
“Yeah… I think so. I’m lucky those bastards can’t aim.”
“Where’s Trivet?”
Holloway shook his head.
“No idea. As soon as I came down the stairs and fired… he took off toward the back of the house.”
“Should I go after him?”
“Go… I’ll be fine.”
Turner nodded and ran back down the stairs. He headed toward the back of the house. The door was open. As he ran into the yard, he heard a car engine roar to life on the other side of the fence. Turner took a running start, jumped, and pulled himself up and over the fence.
A blue Ford pulled away as he landed on the ground. He reached for his gun, but stopped when he realized he was too late. The car was already about to turn right on the next street and he wouldn’t have been able to stop Trivet.
“Shit.”
He looked up and down the street. Their car wasn’t that far away, but it would require going back inside to get the keys from Holloway and he didn’t have time for that. A gold Honda turned down the street. Turner ran out in front of it. The driver slammed on the brakes and slid to a stop. Turner pulled out his Glock and pointed it at the driver.
“Get out!”
The man inside threw up his hands. Turner walked over to his door and yanked it open.
“Get out of the car.”
The man fumbled with his seatbelt. Turner sighed. He took out his knife and cut the belt. The man just sat there, looking at him. Turner grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him out. He jumped in and started the car, which had died when the driver let his foot off the clutch.
Turner closed the door and took off after Trivet. The car was wildly underpowered for the task, but it was his only option at the time. With any luck, Trivet wouldn’t realize he was being pursued.
He took the next turn and looked for the blue Ford, but it wasn’t anywhere in sight. Turner looked up and down each side street as he drove. He finally caught a glimpse of it, but he was going too fast to make the turn. Turner made a right turn at the next intersection and stopped at the red light.
The blue Ford passed him. Turner waited for the light to turn green and took off after Trivet. He cut through the traffic and finally slowed when he was right behind his target. There were enough other cars on the road that he needed to be very careful about what he did next—one false step and he could find himself involved in a crash and Trivet would get away.
Turner moved his car into the other lane and picked up speed. Once the front of his car was next to the Ford’s rear quarter, he attempted a PIT maneuver. Trivet started to spin out, but then recovered. He shook his head and caught back up to the other car. Trivet slammed on his brakes and made a right turn at the last second. Turner glanced out his window and watched—there was nothing he could do.
The tires screeched in protest as he took the next right at almost full speed for the underpowered Honda. Turner put his foot down and turned right again to cut back to the road he last saw Trivet. The light in front of him turned red just as he got there, but he blew through it and turned left. A car nearly missed clipping the rear of his Honda. The Ford was just ahead of him now, but Trivet seemed to be aware of his presence as the distance between them began to grow despite the presence of other cars.
Trivet had to slow as the light ahead of him changed to red. Turner took the opportunity to catch up and got within fifty feet by the time the light changed. Turner knew he needed to do something quickly or he was going to lose Trivet.
As Trivet slowed down to take a right turn, Turner accelerated and smashed the Honda into the rear of the other car. It spun the Ford out and knocked it into a parked car. Turner put his foot on the clutch and turned the key to restart the stalled engine. It sputtered, but didn’t start. Trivet pulled away from him. He turned the key again, but nothing happened.
Turner jumped out of the car and watched as Trivet disappeared into the distance. He looked around to get his bearings. Turner realized they’d been traveling to the south… Trivet was making a run for the airfield.
“Hey… are you OK?”
Turner spun around. A man had jumped out of his truck at the intersection to check on him. He ignored the question, ran over to the still-running truck and pulled the door closed. The driver ran up to the door, but Turner managed to lock it before he could open it.
“Hey! Get out of my truck!”
Turner shifted it into drive and hung a U-turn. He had already lost too much time to Trivet to be able to catch up to him before the airport. Turner knew his best chance would be to find an alternate route and hopefully get there before Trivet could board the plane. Once he was in the air, there was nothing he could do to stop him from taking the flash drive to China… and handing over Chimera. That couldn’t happen.
He took out his phone and pulled up a map as he drove. The road where he had lost Trivet was the most direct route and had the least amount of traffic. Turner glanced up from his phone and saw brake lights. His eyes flicked to the right. There was an empty sidewalk ahead at the stop lights. Turner slammed on the brakes to slow the truck down, and turned the wheel. He put two wheels up on the sidewalk. Turner braced himself as he sideswiped three cars before reaching the turn lane. He made the right turn and mashed his foot down.
The road ahead of him was mostly clear, so he looked back down at his phone. It was telling him that he was on a road that ran parallel to the small airport and there would be a field between him and the runway. He tossed his phone into the cup holder and turned his focus back to the road.
The large chain fence topped with razor wire appeared ahead of him on the left. He waited for a gap in the traffic and turned the truck. He bounced over the median and straightened the wheel as he sped toward the fence. It lost some traction when the tires hit the grass, but Turner managed to keep it mostly straight as he approached the fence with the gas pinned to the floor. The truck easily punched a gaping hole in the fence. His wheels gained grip and pulled him straight as they hit the pavement of the runway.
Turner looked around and spotted a small jet near the other end of the runway. The door was open and the stairs were extended, but he didn’t see the blue Ford anywhere.
He was a few hundred feet away when Trivet came around the side of a hangar in the blue Ford. Turner put his foot down and buckled his seatbelt. Trivet brought the car to a stop twenty feet from the plane. He stepped out of the car and froze as he saw the truck barreling toward him.
Turner slammed the front of the truck into the passenger side of the Ford. The airbag in the steering wheel exploded into his face as the impact threw him forward.
He reached down and picked his phone up fro
m the floor. It had flown out of the cup holder and bounced around the truck. The screen was cracked, but it appeared to still be operational as he pressed the screen and it lit up. Turner shoved the phone into his pocket. He undid his seatbelt and staggered out of the truck. His head was spinning from the impact and his chest was sore from the seatbelt. Turner looked around for Trivet, but didn’t see him. He pulled out his Glock and walked around the side of the Ford, which had been pushed a good five feet from the impact. Trivet was on the ground. His legs were underneath the car and his head was sitting in a pool of blood. The car had slid over him and he’d died when his head smashed into the pavement.
Turner bent down and reached into his jacket pocket. He fished around for a few seconds and eventually found the flash drive. Turner pulled it out and turned it over in his hand. It seemed to be in one piece. He moved his hand to the neck of Trivet and checked for a pulse, just in case, but the man was dead. He stood up and shoved the flash drive into his pocket.
The pilot of the plane was standing in the doorway. He ducked back inside when Turner looked in his direction. There was no time to deal with the man. Turner just had to hope the pilot hadn’t gotten a good look at his face. It was possible considering most of the runway was shrouded in darkness and the brightest source of light was coming from inside the plane.
Turner took off running toward the nearest hangar. He didn’t have a plan, but he needed to get away from the airport as quickly as possible. It was a small miracle that the cops hadn’t shown up yet given the erratic driving he’d done to get there in time and he didn’t want to push his luck.
The parking lot near the entrance to the airport was on the other side of the closest hangar. A few cars were scattered around it, but he didn’t see anyone. There was a guard shack at the entrance, however, and the light was on inside.
Turner pulled his shirt up over his nose, pulled out his Glock and slowly approached the shack. He yanked the door open and pointed the gun at the startled guard.
“You have a car?” Turner asked, in a Russian accent.
The man had a clear view of his eyes, so he wanted to throw off the description he’d give the police as soon as Turner was gone.
“Yes… please… don’t hurt me. I have a wife and two kids.”
“Keys.”
“They’re in my pocket.”
“Slowly… don’t try anything.”
The man nodded and reached into his pocket. He tossed the keys to Turner.
“Which car is it?”
“The silver Malibu.”
“Don’t call the police. I will know if you did. I will come back here and kill you… and I will kill your family.”
He knew the man would still likely call the cops, but he wanted to get as much of a head start as possible.
Turner jogged over to the Chevy and started the engine. He pulled around to the guard shack and knocked on the window with his Glock. The guard raised his head.
“Open the gate!”
The man nodded and raised the gate. Turner looked in the rearview mirror as he pulled away. He could see the guard picking up his phone to call the cops.
“Bold.”
He wasn’t sure if the guard took his job that seriously or if he was just stupid. Turner was in his car… and could easily find his home address on the registration for the car if he wanted to follow through on his threat. He had no intention of doing so and just used it to get the keys from the man as quickly as possible.
Turner took his phone out and pulled up Holloway’s number. Talking about a mission via a regular phone call was never advisable, but he needed to be able to get ahold of him while driving.
The phone rang twice.
“Hello?”
“How are you?”
“I’m… fine. You?”
“I got it,” Turner said.
“Meet me back at the car.”
Turner ended the call and tossed his phone on the passenger seat. It had taken him a good twenty minutes to get to the airport, so he was surprised that Holloway was still where they parked, especially given the sheer amount of gunfire. One of the neighbors had to have called the police.
He shook his head as he drove. Something about it didn’t sit right with him. It was possible Holloway could have slipped out the back of the house and made it to the car without attracting any attention, but meeting him back there just seemed like an incredibly risky proposition.
There was a gas station just up ahead on the right. Turner pulled in, parked the car in one of the empty spots and grabbed his phone off the seat. He logged into the VPN and wrote out a message.
Merlin
Recovered the package. Fox has requested that I meet him back near the initial point of contact. Eight dead at location. Unsure how to proceed. Please advise.
A response popped up a few seconds later.
Gyr
Do not go back to point of contact. Proceed to Union Station parking lot. Top level. Black BMW, Pennsylvania plate. Key is inside driver side front wheel well. APB on blue Chevy SS and silver Chevy Malibu. Proceed with caution.
Merlin
What about Fox?
Gyr
Return to HQ. Do not contact Fox.
Turner stared at the screen until the messages faded. They had agreed before the mission to fend for themselves if things went wrong, but he still felt bad about it. Holloway had only been hit in the arm, so it wasn’t as though his life was in any immediate danger as long as he’d gotten out of the house and back to the car before the police showed up. It was up to Holloway to contact NIA, and they would instruct him in how to proceed.
As much as it bothered Turner, he knew the mission came first… and he finally had the flash drive. He needed to get it back as soon as possible.
He pulled out of the parking lot and started driving toward Union Station. It was getting late and the streets were mostly empty. He pulled into the parking lot a few minutes later and located the BMW.
Turner shut off the Malibu and left the keys in the ignition as he stepped out. He glanced around to make sure he was alone as he walked toward the BMW. The key was right where they told him it would be—secured to the inside of the wheel well with a piece of tape. He pulled it out and got in the car. The engine roared to life and he pulled out of the parking spot.
The gate at the exit of the lot opened as he approached and he turned out of the lot. Two police cars came around the corner and drove into the lot as he pulled away. Turner shook his head. They were just a few seconds behind him, but seemed to be unaware that he was now in another car.
Turner continued south for a few minutes. He kept checking his rearview mirror, but there was no sign of the police as he pulled onto the Interstate.
He reached down and touched the flash drive in his pocket. Now he just had to make it back to Altoona. It was finally over. Chimera, whatever it was, was in safe hands. Nobody would ever know what he had done to make sure it didn’t fall into the wrong hands, but that was part of his job—no recognition for preventing an atrocity that could rival anything in recorded history.
Turner took a deep breath and exhaled through his nose. He was ready for a vacation.
35
Turner pulled into the parking lot at the mine, shut off the engine of the BMW, and stepped out of the car. He didn’t see the blue Chevy SS anywhere, but that didn’t mean Holloway wasn’t back. It was entirely possible that he’d been instructed to ditch the car and make his way back in a car not spotted in the neighborhood where Trivet lived.
He headed inside and walked down the hallway toward the offices. Jess wasn’t at her desk. Not a surprise since it would still be a few more hours until the sun was up.
Turner walked into the office and sat down across from Howard.
“You have it?”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out the flash drive. Turner handed it to Howard.
“Well done, James.”
“Where’s Holloway?”
Howard looked down at the flash drive.
“He hasn’t come back yet.”
“Did he make it out of D.C.?” Turner asked.
Howard set the flash drive down on his desk, sighed, and looked at Turner.
“We’re not sure.”
“Did he contact you?”
“No.”
“Really?”
Howard shook his head.
“We expected him to check in, but we never heard from him. What happened?”
“Well, we got to the house. There were eight Chinese guys there protecting Trivet. We took them out, but it was a little bit of a challenge. Trivet escaped during the firefight. Holloway took a bullet to the arm, but he seemed to be doing OK… so I went after Trivet. I caught up to him at the airport… he was about to board his plane. I got the flash drive off him and got out of there. I called Holloway and he told me to meet him back at the car, which was parked down the street from the house.”
“But you didn’t go back?”
Turner shook his head.
“No, I pulled over in a gas station and that’s when I made contact.”
“Right. Well, we tried to contact Holloway… but he didn’t respond.”
“Any idea what might have happened?”
Howard shook his head.
“Not really. We were hoping you could shed some light on it.”
“Sorry,” Turner said, shaking his head. “I guess I should have gone back for him.”
“No. You followed orders and did the right thing. Holloway knew the risks. The mission was the top priority and you completed it.”
“I guess he could be making his way back here still.”
“It’s entirely possible… he’s resourceful.”
Turner nodded. Holloway was an excellent agent in terms of his skill set, but that didn’t mean he was invincible. There was nothing Turner could do about it, he was already back in Altoona at the behest of Howard with the precious cargo. The only thing to do would be to wait and see if Holloway made contact or showed back up at the mine.
