“Arnon, do you copy? I have Skylar,” Alex said into his comms. “We’re finding a way out of here.”
He prayed that maybe, against all hope, she was alive to hear him. The lights flickered on and off down the corridors with each successive boom shaking through the platform. If the power had been restored, that meant Arnon had likely lost control of the command center.
From the little he knew of her, she was a woman who did not give up her ground easily. Arnon certainly wouldn’t abandon her post without a fight. She probably went down defending the command center as Ballard’s goons spilled in.
He and Skylar were likely on their own.
They raced through the corridors to a set of stairs. Adrenaline fueled Alex’s flight, numbing the pain. A few gunmen near another doorway saw them. Before they could even open fire, Alex and Skylar took them down. They navigated through the destruction and chaos, eliminating the scattered guards on their way out. Black smoke filled the hallways. Alex coughed, trying not to let the searing in his lungs stop him.
Chaos and confusion were their best allies, but they still had to fight their way for every inch toward the exit. Firing. Bracing themselves from debris tumbling through the corridor. Stumbling and leaping and sprinting through the madness.
Until, finally, he smelled it. The scent of salty air. A cold wind rushed through the corridor, beckoning them toward the upper deck.
Alex led them out into the night. Rain pounded the deck. Screams and yells blasted from around him in a horrible cacophony, and for the first time, he saw the full extent of the damage to the oil platform. The dive center had long since been turned to slag. Successive fires and explosions seemed to have ruptured from inside the superstructure. And whatever had happened to the manufacturing facility had ripped the platform nearly in two.
There was a deepening chasm across the deck, and the weight of the tilting platform continued to tear at the injured metal.
People were trying to lower enclosed orange lifeboats into the water as flames leaped around them. One lifeboat fell from its pulley system, already half-charred by flames, spilling people from its open hatch. Other fleeing Gadriel employees were thrown off the platform when an explosion tossed them into the air.
“Command, it’s Vector One,” Alex said. “Requesting immediate exfil.”
Another thundering blast roared into the night. One of the antiaircraft batteries had exploded, the missiles inside detonating. The blinding blast of light and heat was enough to send Alex and Skylar tumbling to the very edge of the platform.
Kasim’s voice came through, muddled by Alex’s ringing hearing. “Vector One, we read. But Helo One is down. I repeat, Helo One is down. We’re finding an alternate.”
“How long?” Alex managed. His head swam. He struggled to fight back the dizziness sweeping through his skull.
“Thirty minutes,” Kasim said. “Maybe more. Can you hold out?”
As Alex pushed himself back to his feet, scrambling to regain control over his rifle, he heard gunshots pinging around the deck. He twisted in time to see two gunmen on a catwalk firing at him and Skylar. Every place that could possibly serve as shelter was already being swallowed by flames. Alex and Skylar returned fire, but another group of gunmen spilled out of the superstructure, lining the catwalk and shooting back at them.
“Thirty minutes, Vector,” Kasim repeated. “Can you do that?”
Pinned down, Alex and Skylar had nowhere to go.
“Negative,” Alex finally replied. “We might not have another thirty seconds.”
-40-
Alex crawled on his belly behind a fallen beam. He rose up just enough to fire at one of the guards pinning him and Skylar down. Rounds sparked against the superstructure behind him, but some of those shots had hit home. A guard tumbled over the railing and smacked against the debris-filled deck. Return fire blazed from other gunmen, forcing him to duck for cover again.
Lightning and thunder filled the sky, echoing the explosions devouring the guts of the platform. It illuminated the forms of the gunmen as they leveled automatic gunfire toward his position.
Then he saw something he hadn’t expected on the catwalk. Another figure with a weapon.
Not firing at him or Skylar but shooting into the flanks of the guards. Between the din of the storm and the explosions within the platform’s superstructure, the guards were too focused on Alex and Skylar to notice the person who was mowing through their ranks.
At first, Alex wondered if it was Elad. Maybe he had survived the blasts in the manufacturing facility and was coming to save them.
But as he lifted his rifle, staring down the sights, he saw that he had guessed wrong.
“Arnon made it!” he said, whooping.
“Sorry I’m late,” she said over their shared comms.
With Arnon’s help, they dispatched the last of the guards on the catwalk. Alex covered Arnon as she advanced toward them. She raced down a stairway onto the deck, chased by the flames venting from the superstructure. Her feet nearly slipped out from under her as the deck grew steeper, another rumble welling up from within the platform.
“I’ve got it,” she said, reaching them.
“Got what?” Alex asked.
She patted the pack on her back. Her scarred face glistened in the rain, another flash of lightning illuminating her features. Blood mixed with the rainwater running down her jaw. “Everything I could download from their computers. All the protocols on their servers. And the locations of all other Gadriel facilities and personnel.”
“Excellent,” Skylar said, clapping the other woman on the arm. “Let’s bring these assholes down.”
“We’re only bringing them down if we get off this platform,” Alex said. He pointed at the nearest lifeboat dangling from its pulley system.
Six other men and women from the crew were running toward it. The first couple threw themselves inside, and another hit an emergency release before Alex could stop them.
Another monstrous tremor grappled the oil platform, metal shrieking as it split. The hoists holding the lifeboat broke, and the cables on the sternward portion of the boat snapped free, whipping out. The lifeboat swung precariously until another blast roared from beneath the oil platform, fire roasting the craft.
This time, the platform didn’t stop shaking. It would not survive more than a few more minutes before it fell into the stormy waters.
“What are we going to do?” Arnon asked, looking around at the chaos of the platform as it fell apart around them.
Alex looked around for another lifeboat, but Skylar tugged on his sleeve, grinning.
“Forget the damn boats,” she said. “I’ve got a better idea.”
Skylar ran toward the helipad where she and Elad had landed. It felt like a lifetime ago, but she remembered that it was up a set of stairs. From their position beneath the platform, she could not see whether a helicopter was actually still there.
Good chance that someone on this platform had already taken off with it.
But what other option did they have?
She took the steps two at a time. Her muscles ached with each stride.
Please, be there. Please, be there.
She lunged up the last few steps, rounding the walkway up to the helipad.
Another flash of lightning. The roll of thunder drumming through her chest.
The platform shook more fiercely in its death throes.
She reached the helipad.
Her breath stopped in her chest.
There it was. A ride out of this place.
But as the platform tilted more violently, the chopper began sliding on its skids, grinding toward the edge of the helipad.
Alex and Arnon stayed on her heels as they sprinted for the bird. With a grunt of exertion, she threw open the cockpit door. Alex leapt into the co-pilot’s seat, and Arnon flung herself into the back.
“This baby better fly,” Skylar muttered.
There was no time to go through the sta
ndard safety checks. She just needed to be in the air. That was where she belonged, her literal element.
She settled her boots onto the foot pedals then pushed the starter. Air began whooshing through the twin engines, the whir growing even louder than the destruction below. The rotors slowly accelerated as the engines whined.
Deafening creaks of protesting metal pierced the cockpit. An enormous ball of fire ripped through what remained of the oil platform’s superstructure. Molten metal seared through the air, and shards of cooling shrapnel pinged against the chopper.
Skylar just prayed none of that debris was sucked into the engines or damaged the rotors.
“How long before we’re airborne?” Arnon yelled over the engine noise.
Skylar watched the tachometer to make sure there was enough airflow into the intake before she could start pulling torque on the engine. Without enough RPM, she couldn’t get sufficient airflow. Insufficient airflow meant the turbines would overheat, and they wouldn’t be flying anywhere anytime fast.
The tachometer indicated she was only halfway there.
She didn’t have the breath to explain all of this to the Mossad agent, so Skylar didn’t bother. The oil platform tilted more precariously, the chopper’s skids sliding over the helipad. The bird’s cockpit leaned over the side of the pad and straight toward the oily black waters below.
“Come on, baby,” Skylar said.
“Can’t you open up on the throttle?” Arnon called from the back.
“It’s all the way open,” Skylar said.
More explosions bloomed behind them. Shrapnel peppered the bird. The helipad started tilting more steeply toward the water. This time, it didn’t stop.
They were at forty percent of proper airflow then fifty.
Skylar pulled up slowly on the collective, praying they would have enough lift.
Easy does it, Cruz.
But then the bird slid off the pad. Straight into open space. She pulled back harder on the collective, working the foot pedals to counteract the torque from the main rotor through the tail rotor.
They began to plummet. Alex braced himself against the frame of the chopper. Arnon let out a flurry of curses in Hebrew, mixed with shouted orders to Skylar, demanding that she pull up.
Skylar gritted her teeth.
Choppy waves reflected the fire over the platform. Those waves reached up hungrily toward the bird. But the sea had swallowed too many lives today. Skylar wasn’t about to let it have them too.
She pulled up harder on the collective. Right before the bird splashed down, their fall slowed.
Finally. Plenty of airflow, the throttle still fully open.
She gripped the cyclic and took them forward, skimming over the tops of the waves. As they raced away, the platform at last collapsed behind them, sending up geysers of water.
The sea scraped at the bottom of the bird, sucking at the skids. But with another pull on the collective, she drew them away from the waves. After another moment of clawing for altitude, Skylar felt the aircraft come fully under her control.
They were finally in the air.
A stab of lightning tore through the sky, reminding Skylar they weren’t free from danger yet. She took the chopper as far from the center of the storm as she could, navigating directly south.
As the sheets of rain washed over the chopper, she risked a glance behind her.
There was no more fire. No more smoke. Just darkness.
“Command, Vector Two,” Skylar called. “I’ve got Wolfe and Arnon in a chopper.”
Kasim’s sigh of relief came over the comms like a hurricane. “Thank God, Vector Two. Do you still require any assistance?”
“Just need somewhere to land this bird,” she said.
“That can be arranged.”
Alex fit one of the chopper’s headsets over his ears and passed one back to Arnon. Skylar fixed her own in place so the three of them could communicate without screaming over the roar of the engines.
“Can anybody tell me what the hell just happened?” Skylar asked. “One minute, I was a prisoner. The next minute, the whole place was on fire.”
“I kind of lost my mind there for a bit,” Alex said, cradling his broken finger.
“Glad you found it,” Arnon said. She patted the back of their seats. “I underestimated you two.”
Alex turned to look at Arnon. “I’m sorry we lost Friedman.”
“David was…” She paused, seeming lost for words. “Israel will miss him.”
Skylar privately wondered if perhaps Arnon would also miss the ruthless agent with his wry sense of humor. But now wasn’t the time to ask, and she didn’t seem the type to offer that kind of intel.
“Had enough time in the field?” Alex asked Arnon.
“I don’t think so,” she said. “I spent too long pushing papers and staring at screens in a windowless basement.”
Arnon told them about how she had finally lost control of the operations center. An unlucky shot had destroyed her radio. She barely escaped with her life—and the intel they needed to stop Gadriel permanently.
Alex and Arnon filled in Skylar about everything that had happened when they found Professor Smadi and how he had revealed Elad’s former role in Gadriel’s Ring of Solomon enterprise. Skylar told them what she’d seen in Beirut and then on the oil rig platform, but she glossed over the gruesome way Friedman had died. She would eventually have to put it in her report—a report that Arnon would no doubt read, one way or another.
As they compared their stories, the picture became increasingly clear.
After learning of Smadi’s breakthrough invention, Ballard and Elad had seen an opportunity. They manufactured the Ring in small batches at first, testing them out on unsuspecting civilians and selling it to terrorist groups to fund the expansion of their operations. Jaber had been a tool to help ensure that the Jordanian government remained clueless about what was going on right under their noses.
Ballard was a bastard who pretended to care about nonviolent methods of preventing conflict. It sounded to her like Smadi actually did care about those things. But unlike the professor, Ballard’s true motivation seemed much simpler.
Greed.
She didn’t want to believe Elad had been like that. But from what they knew now, the man was cut from the same stone as Ballard. He had only changed his tune when the Ring changed his mind.
Kasim’s voice came back over the comms. “Vector, I’ve got a landing spot for you. Mossad is going to meet you in Bergen. We’ve already agreed to share the intel Arnon recovered, along with everything you all recovered from Naxos.”
“And after that?” Skylar asked.
“We’ll arrange a debrief. But in the meantime, go grab a drink. Whatever you want, it’s on me.”
“Medical attention would be nice,” Alex said, looking at his broken finger. It was swelling up and turning purple already.
“Sorry about that,” Skylar said.
He turned to face her, blue eyes sincere. “I’m the one who’s sorry. Can you ever forgive—”
“Yes, yes. We’re all sorry,” Arnon interrupted. “Now be quiet and wake me up when we get to Bergen.”
Their flight took them from the dark-gray storm clouds to gentler seas accompanied by a lightly graying sky. It wasn’t quite morning, but Skylar would take the promise of a new day over the hellscape they had left behind.
Ahead were the lush green fjords of Norway. Even from this distance, Skylar could appreciate their beauty. The landscape looked like something straight out of the fantasy novels that she’d never admit to reading during her downtime. Shimmering white waterfalls cascaded down the cliff faces, and mountains lined the waterways. She half-expected to see a dragon flying overhead.
She touched them down at a small private airport outside of Bergen, nestled in a break between mountains. As soon as the skids hit the ground, two black SUVs raced toward them, doors opening before the rotors even wound down.
Skylar turned to
wake up Arnon, but the Mossad agent was already alert as a hawk. She wondered if Arnon had even slept.
She looked at Skylar and Alex with a serious expression. “Kasim is not the only one that can call me. If Vector ever needs Mossad’s help, reach out directly to me. Either of you. Any time. I will be there.”
She gave them both a nod before hopping out the side door. She jogged lightly across the tarmac and into one of the SUVs.
“Hell of a woman,” Skylar said.
Alex simply shook his head. “You don’t know the half of it. I still need to tell you more about Greece.”
“Sounds like we’ll have time,” she said. “After we deal with the debriefs, let’s go into the city. Find a place where we can grab a beer.”
“You going to make a habit of this?”
“Of what?”
“Every time we finish a mission, barely scraping by with our lives, you demand that we get a beer.”
“It’s, you know, a tradition. Except for the part where we scrape by with our lives. Maybe we don’t have to cut it so close next time. But a beer always sounds good.”
“I don’t like it,” Alex said.
Skylar arched a brow. “And why’s that? You don’t like the company?”
“Company’s fine,” Alex said, grinning at her. “But I’m more of a whiskey drinker.”
-Epilogue-
Bergen, Norway
Skylar and Alex spent nearly two days debriefing with the Israelis while Kasim tuned in from abroad. Mossad had worked with the CIA to launch surgical strikes in the few locations around the world where they suspected Gadriel might have stashed more of the Ring of Solomon, based on the data Arnon had recovered from the oil platform. The missions had been successful. They’d found no evidence the particles were being produced anywhere besides that oil platform.
All the intel on manufacturing techniques, how the particles worked, and Smadi’s personal research were locked away in vaults under Vector’s and Arnon’s control. They had debated the merits of deleting it completely. But now that Pandora’s box had been opened, they feared what would happen if someone, somewhere, still knew about the particles.
Demon Mind (Vector Book 2) Page 35
