Demon Mind (Vector Book 2)

by Anthony J Melchiorri

  Good, Elad thought. This whole place needs to burn.

  He just wanted to make sure Ballard went down with it.

  Then, suddenly, the lights flickered back on. There was a hiss from just outside the room. Fire-suppression foam burst through the vents and the ducts.

  “You never could finish what you started,” a voice said from behind him.

  Elad turned to see Ballard pointing a handgun straight at his head.

  Fort Detrick, Maryland

  Kasim’s fingers tightened around the back of Morris’s seat in Vector’s operations center. The normally confident analyst was hunched over his computer, typing on the keyboard with one hand and holding onto his headset with another, knee bouncing.

  “I can’t reach Wolfe or Arnon,” he said, voice nearly cracking. “Mossad isn’t picking them up, either. That place must be blocking all incoming and outgoing radio signals.”

  Kasim hoped that was it. Because the alternative was that they’d lost Wolfe and Cruz for good. That this risky gambit to go after Gadriel Defense Systems on their home turf was a failure. Maybe they should’ve blown the place apart with a drone strike or sent a SEAL team in to raid it.

  He had only turned down those options for fear that they would result in Skylar’s death. But in an effort to save her, had he condemned both of his operatives?

  He pulled a hand through his thinning hair. It was going to be a lot thinner and grayer after this.

  Morris’s screen showed a view of the oil platform. They had a direct feed to the chopper that Mossad had chartered to take Arnon and Wolfe to the platform. The helicopter had flown in when the place went dark, using the cover of the night, storm, and power outage to their advantage.

  The image was grainy and gray from the ongoing storm, the platform nothing but a silhouette. A lanky monster emerging from the sea, barely visible until another ball of fire rolled into the sky from its deck. Lightning flashed as if in response, illuminating the ghoulish structure.

  “Hold up, we’re getting something,” Morris said.

  The analyst’s eyes narrowed as if he was focusing on some point only he could see.

  “Come on, Morris, what do you hear?” Kasim asked.

  Morris hit a button on his keyboard. Static hissed over Kasim’s headset. He thought he heard a few garbled phrases.

  “Whatever I’m getting is encrypted,” Morris said. “And it’s not coming from our people. It’s them. I think they got power back to the facility.”

  Kasim’s stomach plummeted. “How close is that chopper flying?”

  “Oh, shit,” Morris said.

  “Tell Mossad to get that bird out of there.”

  “Mike Command, Vector Command, you need to tell your chopper to move,” Morris said. “Power’s just been restored to the oil platform. Their defense systems might be back online.”

  “Copy, Vector Command,” a voice called back in a thick Israeli accent. “Relaying message now.”

  The helicopter started to bank away from the oil platform.

  But Kasim could see it was too late.

  The flare of a launching missile burst from the base.

  If these Gadriel monsters didn’t already know they were under an attack, they definitely did now. A white column of smoke grew from the antiaircraft missile battery, an incandescent light burning through the stormy murk. The light grew brighter and closer, even as the chopper accelerated away.

  The helicopter deployed decoy flares. Kasim waited with bated breath, hoping it would be enough.

  Come on. Come on.

  Then there was an explosion of static. The camera view on the screen went dark. Several tedious seconds passed before Morris finally broke the horrible silence.

  “They’re gone,” he whispered.

  Kasim listened on the Mossad line as his comrades halfway across the world desperately called for the crew on the chopper.

  But there was no answer. They had to know there wouldn’t be.

  “We lost our eyes on the platform,” Morris said.

  “We lost more than that,” Kasim said. “That was Vector’s ride out of there. Wolfe and Cruz are trapped.”

  If they’re even alive.

  Norwegian North Sea

  With the power back on, Skylar finally saw the full horror of what had happened in the dark. The prisoners lay in bloodied heaps. A few still threw themselves at each other, even as they bore gruesome, life-ending injuries.

  And Alex was still fighting. He pulled on the chains, a savage snarl distorting his face into that of a monster.

  She tried to get her legs around Alex and roll him to the floor. Anything to subdue him. To delay just a little longer until Elad got his ass back here with that controller to deactivate the signal.

  With a well-aimed knee and a silent apology, she hit Alex between his legs. What should’ve dropped him to the ground did nothing.

  She gasped, her body instinctively trying to suck down air that would never reach her lungs. Her head throbbed, pain stabbing at the back of her eyes, her brain screaming at her for air.

  She stopped fighting against the chain, instead wrapping her hands around the back of his neck. Then she pulled him in closer to her while at the same time mustering all the power she had left into her leg. She slammed the knee home right under his ribs this time.

  Air whooshed out of Alex’s lungs, blowing across her visor. His grip loosened just enough for her to swing her legs around his then drop him to the floor, employing a jiujitsu move she hoped would give her the advantage.

  She wrestled with him, keeping his limbs locked in her grip, panting and desperately trying to gulp air. Other prisoners lurched toward them, eager to join the fray. She could barely fend them off while maintaining control over Alex.

  Each lash of the chain, each kick growing weaker, less effective.

  Alex never stopped trying to attack her. He flailed and thrashed, knocking her head against the floor when he bucked. Her vision was going dizzy with every blow she absorbed. A deep throbbing pounded in her brain.

  Alex swung an elbow toward her face.

  She twisted, the blow knocking into the side of her head. Another strike slammed against her ear, and the eardrum erupted in pain from the sudden pressure. She screamed out but could do nothing more. It took everything just to hold on. But she had to keep the mask on her head to prevent herself from breathing in the same particles driving everyone else in this room mad.

  If Alex succeeded in knocking it off, even by accident, then it was game over.

  Where are you, Elad?

  She had heard the gunshots through the door where he and Ballard had gone. But they’d stopped now.

  Unlike her idealistic partner, Skylar was a realist. No one was coming to save her, and Ballard was probably getting away. Even if the rumbles shaking through this base and the smell of smoke and burning plastic meant the whole place was going to go belly-up, it wouldn’t matter in the long run. Ballard would be taking samples of the particles with him. Manufacturing protocols. God only knew what else.

  He would just set up shop somewhere else.

  Alex headbutted Skylar. The mask smashed against her face, threatening to crack. The back of her head slammed against the deck. More pain. The throbbing had reached a worrying tempo. She might black out soon.

  No, she couldn’t do this much longer. Couldn’t keep toughing it out. No amount of willpower was going to prevent her skull from cracking open from another one of those hits.

  “I’m sorry, Alex,” she said.

  She had to finish this mission.

  At all costs.

  Skylar used the chain still attached to her ankle, first to pull him closer to her, then wrapping it around his back. Anything to keep him from winding up those haymaker punches that would knock her jaw loose.

  Alex thrashed against the chain, and Skylar’s muscles strained, threatening to tear fiber by fiber as she fought to keep him under her control. He was like a seasoned bull and she was a rook
ie bull rider, first time in the arena. Barely able to stay on, much less tame him.

  “Stop it, Alex,” she grunted, pulling the chain tighter as she panted for breath. “Later… you’re going to feel really guilty… about all this.”

  Another prisoner rushed at her. Teeth and nails found her arm, tearing through her shirt. She kicked away the feral woman, losing ground with Alex.

  Just beyond him, she saw the dead guards. Their weapons still lying on the deck beside them.

  All it would take is one shot. One shot and this struggle would be over.

  No, it wouldn’t come to that.

  She wrangled Alex toward one of the unlocked stanchions. If she could just lock him in place, maybe she wouldn’t have to kill him.

  Maybe she could get away from him long enough that he wouldn’t kill her.

  But then, with another roar, he broke from the chain.

  His hands wrapped around her neck, and he drove her into a wall.

  As her lungs burned, brain shouting at her that she needed oxygen, she saw the hilt of a knife blade sheathed on Alex’s leg. Just within her reach.

  One slash and she would be free.

  -39-

  Elad could see the end of his road. With his memories erased, missing a lifetime of stories and choices and regrets and cherished moments, his time on this earth seemed so short. Just a few brutal days.

  “You’re so predictable,” Ballard said. “Coward. Traitor. I was never going to let you join Gadriel again, anyway. Your life is forfeit as far as I’m concerned. But there is one thing I need to know.”

  Elad stood silently, his breath rushing in and out of his mask’s filtration system. Maybe he could swing the rifle up and get off a shot.

  No. It wouldn’t work.

  As soon as he made a move, Ballard would fire. The guy couldn’t miss. Not from this range.

  The former CIA officer held a briefcase in one hand. That probably held all the secrets of this place.

  “I’ll make this quick for you,” Ballard said. “I just want you to tell me what you did with the samples you stole. You tell me, and maybe you don’t end up on the floor with a bullet in your brain.”

  Elad cracked a grin. He couldn’t help it. Ballard was a liar. He had no doubt about that.

  But the man also didn’t have all the power he pretended to have. He was scared. Frightened by the prospect that someone else had control over his secrets.

  He didn’t think there was any problem telling Ballard the truth at last. “They’re everywhere. Everyone knows now.”

  “Who?” Ballard demanded, jabbing the pistol forward as if to emphasize his point.

  “Mossad, the Americans,” Elad said. “Even if you leave this place, your life is over.”

  Ballard started to squeeze the trigger.

  But Elad was faster.

  In his right hand, pressed up against the grip of his rifle, he still held the detonator. He might have helped start the events that led to the suffering of countless people. But now he would atone for it. Elad would break the Ring of Solomon for good.

  Explosions ripped from every corner of the room. A wall of heat and fire consumed Elad and Ballard, blasting them both backward.

  Ballard’s pistol flipped out of his hand, slamming against a bulkhead. The man tumbled in a broken mess across the floor. But even with his skin blackened and sloughing off, he didn’t stop. He started crawling toward his gun.

  Ballard inched toward the pistol, his bloodied fingers outstretched.

  Elad, his entire body lit up with pain, struggled to stand. So long as Ballard lived, this wasn’t over.

  Flames leapt around them. The fire-suppression system tried to kick in, but the explosions had destroyed most of the sprinklers, allowing the fire to devour the manufacturing plant. Each time those flames spread to another barrel of chemicals or a storage tank, more blasts sent waves of heat and pressure crashing through the facility.

  Another eruption, closer still. Elad’s eardrums burst. Pain wracked his body, and he wanted to crumple to the ground.

  But his job wasn’t finished. His limbs started to go numb, the ends of his nerves fried.

  Ballard reached the pistol. Wrapped his charred fingers around it, bringing it up toward Elad.

  Against a surge of agony, he dove at his former partner. Every movement felt like a thousand tiny knives stabbing into his body. He grabbed Ballard’s wrist, pushing it back.

  Ballard fired.

  Once.

  Twice.

  The third bullet tore into Elad’s shoulder. Fresh, scorching pain cut through his failing body.

  His teeth ground together, and he forced Ballard’s wrist back until it started to snap.

  Ballard fired one last time. The bullet seared past Elad’s head.

  Finally, he wrenched the handgun from Ballard’s grip. The man’s eyelids were peeled back, half his face a grisly mess.

  It’s over, Elad thought.

  Maybe he said it out loud.

  He couldn’t hear anything anyway. The world was quickly spiraling out of existence. All the same, he brought the pistol up. Squeezed the trigger.

  Ballard dropped back to the floor.

  Elad let the pistol fall and blinked.

  The fire was sucking the oxygen from the room, and his lungs burned from the inside out.

  There was no hope for him. His brief second chance at life was almost over, but he hadn’t done enough. Not yet. There were others whose lives could still be saved.

  He reached for Ballard’s pocket in his suit jacket. He could barely feel his limbs, shock and adrenaline and his agonizing injuries overwhelming his brain.

  Was that the device? Or was it just Ballard’s phone? Just as his fingers wrapped around the object, another blast tore through the platform. He felt the whole structure list.

  Ballard’s body started to slide away.

  “No, no, no!” Elad crawled toward Ballard, scrabbling along the tilting floor.

  Another fiery blast roared overhead, blazing across his back and pressing him flat.

  Despite the agony cutting across his body and the overwhelming heat, the fire devouring every molecule of remaining oxygen, he reached Ballard’s body. He fell across the charcoaled corpse of his former ally and took the control device from Ballard’s pocket.

  His fingers squeezed the touchpad. A green light glowed at the top of the half-melted device. Green meant go. The device was still working. But he couldn’t get past the locked touch screen to stop that signal.

  So instead, with the last of his strength, he slammed the device against the deck until he dashed it into so many shards of broken plastic and silicon.

  Elad, his body failing, tore off his mask. He smelled the metallic nanoparticles from the broken manufacturing vats amid the stench of burning flesh, hair, and chemicals.

  His eyes watered, vision growing blurry, then black.

  A strange calm fell over him.

  A final memory flooded through his mind. It was of a lonely dog wandering the streets of Wadi Musa. A stray like him. A friend for a brief, shared moment.

  Maybe he had been a terrible person before the Ring of Solomon. But he hoped that he’d become a better one.

  For a moment, Alex thought he was at his childhood home in Maryland. He’d just woken up from a bad dream to find his house was on fire.

  But reality was so much more horrific.

  He felt his fingers tightening around someone’s neck.

  Skylar’s neck.

  Saw her face behind the gas mask growing white, gasping for air.

  Then he noticed the knife in her grip. But it was angled down and away.

  He released his hands as though he’d been electrocuted. One of his fingers flared with pain, and he saw it was broken.

  “Skylar?”

  She collapsed to her knees. He reached down to help her.

  “I’m so sorry,” he said.

  An explosive blast erupted from behind him. Fire and s
moke poured from another room. Those flames speared through the doorway into the prison chamber. Alex shielded his eyes with his hand.

  Before his mind had been taken from him, he remembered this room had been filled by prisoners shackled to the floor. They were still there. But now they lay dead from ghastly wounds or the flames venting from air ducts and the open doorway.

  His stomach twisted, his mind racing to understand what had happened.

  But another blast ripped through the facility. He didn’t have time to think.

  “Skylar, we need to go,” he said, crouched beside her. He helped lift her to her feet.

  She stumbled alongside him toward one of the dead guards. Alex sifted through the man’s pockets until he found a key to unlock the shackles around Skylar’s ankle. Then he scooped up a dropped rifle and handed another to his partner.

  “Can you handle this?”

  “I’m good,” she said, voice rough and fresh bruises around her neck.

  “Where’s Ballard?” Alex shouted over the groan of breaking metal.

  The platform seemed to be tilting to the side. Chains and crates began sliding across the deck.

  “He was in there,” Skylar said, stifling a cough and pointing into the manufacturing facility. “Elad went after him. We have to stop him.”

  “Which one?” Alex said. “Elad or Ballard?”

  “Elad’s on our side. I think. Ballard is the one we need to stop.”

  From what Alex remembered of Arnon’s directions, the only exit from the manufacturing facility was through this prison wing. He saw nothing but flames and smoke through the doorway. If Elad and Ballard were in there, they weren’t getting out. And anyone else who went in would be doomed to a gruesome fate.

  “It’s already over,” Alex said, almost to himself.

  Another explosion. Rumbles from deeper within the facility followed. The platform listed even more steeply, and Alex nearly lost his footing.

  “We’ve got to get above deck,” Alex said. “My comms won’t work in here.”

  They started running out into the corridor. Other technicians and guards rushed around them. None seemed to care about Skylar or Alex, too concerned about their own lives.