Thomas Caine series Boxset

by Andrew Warren

  Josh stumbled to his feet. As his eyes adjusted to the light, he began to make out the details surrounding him. Scrublands, brown withered grass, as far as the eye could see. A few flat-topped trees stood in the distance. Their gnarled, black trunks were silhouetted against the burning sun.

  A buzzing sound filled the air. Black shadows circled overhead, birds of some kind.

  One of Takuba’s rebel soldiers stood a few feet away from him, an AK-47 rifle hanging in a loose grip from his right hand. His left hand held a jingling key ring.

  “Turn around.”

  Only one man, Josh thought. They think I’m too injured, too tired to fight back.

  They might be right.

  Josh turned around. Before him, a deep depression cut into the earth. The pit was about fifteen feet deep, and a thin layer of glistening mud lined the sloped edges. The bottom of the pit was filled with bundles of plastic sheeting, tied off at the ends with cord or duct tape. There were over a hundred of them, each one about the size of a man.

  Josh blinked and looked closer at one of the bundles. Behind the translucent plastic, he could make out the blurred outline of a human face. Its pale, gaunt features were frozen in a look of stark terror.

  The buzzing grew louder. Tiny black dots swirled around him. He realized they were flies.

  They were standing before a mass grave.

  “I take off these cuffs. Then you work,” the rebel grunted. “Unload the truck. You try to run, try to escape, I kill you.” The man hoisted his rifle and took a step towards Josh. “You go in pit. Understand?”

  “Yeah, I got it,” Josh muttered, rubbing his wrists.

  The soldier lowered the rifle. He unlocked the cuffs that bound Josh’s wrists and pushed forward.

  “Work. Now.”

  Josh stumbled towards the back of the truck and swung open the rear door.

  More bodies lay in the truck bed, all wrapped in plastic.

  “Who are they?” he asked.

  Keep him talking, waste time. Get your strength back.

  “Doesn’t matter. They go in the pit.”

  The soldier paced over to a lone tree and leaned against the trunk. He fished a toothpick from his pocket and stuck it in his mouth.

  Josh heaved one of the bodies over his shoulder. He trudged towards the pit, as slow as he could without arousing suspicion.

  The sun beat down overhead, and the heat was brutal. Beads of sweat dripped from his hair and stung his squinting eyes. He tried to control his breathing, tried to recover some energy. He knew his survival was unlikely, that these could be his last moments on earth. But he had to try.

  He dumped another body into the sinkhole and watched it tumble and slide to the bottom of the pit. He recognized a few of the men through the plastic wrapping. They were prisoners who had grown too exhausted or injured to work. Men who had tried to escape. A few of them bore festering, pock-marked sores on their faces and arms. Test subjects for the Gemini Virus.

  Finally, the last body toppled down the hill. Josh stood at the precipice, panting. He wiped the sweat from his battered face. He heard a clink as the soldier stood up and paced towards him.

  This is it, he told himself. Go time. Do or die.

  He turned around and raised his hands. He shuffled towards the advancing soldier.

  “Come on, man. I did as you asked. How about we call it even?”

  "Turn around," the soldier barked. "Hands on your head. Walk towards the pit."

  Josh lowered his hands a bit and took another step forward. The distance was too far; there was no way to reach his attacker before the man fired. But he was going to go for it anyway. Better that than let Takuba’s men shoot him in the back like a sick dog. He shifted his weight onto his right foot.

  Before he could lunge forward, a figure exploded out of the brush behind them. A high-pitched scream rose from the grass. The soldier whirled around. A young child careened into him. The boy stood tall and clutched a sharpened stick over his head. He yelped another war cry and drove the stick down into the soldier’s leg.

  It was Nhial’s son … it was Buri!

  The soldier backed towards Josh and growled in pain.

  Now, dammit! The command roared through Josh’s brain. Adrenaline shot through his aching muscles and flooded his weary nerves.

  As the soldier raised his rifle to fire at the young boy, Josh clamped his left arm around the man’s neck. His right arm darted over the man’s shoulder, grabbed the barrel of the rifle, and yanked it straight up. The gun fired into the air, startling the circling vultures above. They screeched and peeled off into the blue sky.

  Josh squeezed tight with his left arm, but he was too weak to complete the sleeper hold. The soldier threw his head back, slamming the top of his skull into Josh’s battered face. As the pain shot through his nose and eyes, the soldier broke free from the hold and spun around. Before he could fire, Buri jabbed him again with the stick, impaling the man’s thigh.

  The soldier howled in pain. He let go of his rifle with one hand and shoved the boy to the ground. He tore the small spear from his leg and tossed it aside. Then he turned back to face Josh, his lips curled in an angry snarl.

  Josh used the momentary distraction to his advantage. He darted right and shot out his left hand. His fingers curled around the barrel of the rifle before the soldier could regain a firm grip. He yanked the gun to his side and swung up his left leg in a savage groin kick.

  The soldier’s eyes bulged as the powerful blow made contact. He doubled over, yelping in pain

  Josh shifted his weight and swung with a right hook. The punch connected with a loud crack. The man’s head snapped back. Keeping his grip on the rifle, Josh pulled his right hand back, then struck low with a quick jab at the man’s chin. His head snapped back a second time as the blow landed.

  The soldier reeled from the force of the blows. Josh pulled up on the rifle barrel and clamped his other hand onto the stock. He whipped the weapon around in a circle, breaking the man’s grip.

  “Buri, get down!” he shouted. The child dropped into the tall grass. Josh kicked the soldier, sending him staggering backwards.

  Josh took aim and pulled the trigger. The gun shook and rattled in his hands as he fired a quick burst. The sound echoed across the plains. The soldier’s body jerked and danced. He fell to the ground and ceased moving. Blood stained the fabric of his shirt, just above his chest.

  Josh stood panting, still aiming the gun at the dead soldier. After a few moments, he lowered the rifle. Buri stood up from the brush and jogged towards him. “You did it, Mr. Carter, you kill him!”

  Josh held up his hand. “Buri, wait … stay there!”

  The boy did as he was told. Josh bent over, heaved the dead soldier over his shoulder, and carried him to the pit.

  He tossed the corpse in and watched as it tumbled down the slope.

  One more body to join the others, he thought.

  He turned around and walked over to Buri, who sat trembling in the grass. The boy looked up at him and gave him a nervous smile. “You move so fast,” he said. “You great fighter!”

  Josh looked down at the boy and laughed. “You’re not so bad yourself. You saved my life, Buri. You are one brave kid.”

  “Don’t tell my father,” the child said, shaking his head. “He say fighting is bad. Evil spirits make us fight. Good spirits make us study. He says I must study and become a doctor like you.”

  “Your father sounds like a smart man. I’m going to make sure you see him soon, but there’s one thing I have to do first. Do you know how to get back to the refinery from here?”

  “Yes, it is not far. I hid here after I escaped from that place. Is my mother still there?”

  “Yes, she is.”

  The child stood up, a determined look on his face. “Then we must go back to get her. I must fight some more, before I study.”

  Josh laughed and rubbed the boy’s head. “How about you leave the fighting to me this time.” H
e glanced at the truck parked near the edge of the pit. “You wait here. I’m going to get that truck and drive it over here. I want you to stay away from that pit. Do you understand me?”

  Buri gave him a cautious look. “I saw the men come here yesterday. I know what is inside the pit.”

  Josh looked the boy in the eye. “You do?”

  The child’s eyes were wide. “Yes. Ghosts. Angry spirits.”

  Josh nodded. “You might be right, son.”

  He turned and stalked across the sun-bleached earth towards the truck. He had to get word back to the CIA monitoring station, let them know what was going on.

  And he had to leave word for Rebecca. Let her know he was still alive.

  Maybe it was too late for either message to do any good.

  But he had to try.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Caine glared at Bernatto. “I should have guessed you’d go running back to the old man, Allan. You always were Grissom’s dog.”

  The man on the screens chuckled. “I know you got a chip on your shoulder, son, but you gotta stop and think things through. You’ve been chasing poor old Allan halfway around the world, all because of what? He burn your ass in Afghanistan?”

  Caine flicked his eyes back to the screens. He forced himself to smile.

  “It’s a long list, Grissom. Operation Big Blind is right at the top. Bernatto framed me, left me to die. I was captured, tortured. And Jack … He didn’t make it out at all.”

  The images of Grissom nodded in unison. For Caine, it was surreal to see the man’s face spread across all the different sizes and shapes of screens in the room. Like a reflection in a hall of mirrors.

  “Sure, sure. I know all about Operation Big Blind,” Grissom said. “But what on earth makes you think Allan had a choice in the matter? Your anger’s misplaced. He was just following orders, after all.”

  “What are you talking about? Big Blind was after you resigned. The D/NCS at the time had no idea what we were doing there, he didn’t order—”

  “Condor Group was my baby,” Grissom snapped. “Always was my baby. And I told you when we brought you into the fold. The operations we ran, the missions you undertook … the stakes were high. Higher than you could imagine. And when the stakes get that high, everyone is expendable. Everyone. Allan, Jack, you … there’s no room for special snowflakes in this game.”

  “It was you.” Caine stared at the screen. “You framed me, left Jack to die. You were still pulling the strings, behind the scenes. Even after you resigned.”

  “I may have resigned, but I didn’t slink away with my tail between my legs,” the old man on the screen snapped, his withered lips curling into a scowl. “The Senate Intelligence Committee … It was all just politics as usual for those idiots. But I knew what was coming. And I was ready.”

  “Ready for what?” Caine demanded.

  “Allan and I, we could see the world was changing. The old ways weren’t working any more. Oversight committees, budgetary cut-backs, congressional hearings … you can’t fight the war America has to fight now, not under those conditions. Our enemy doesn’t play by those rules. It doesn’t fight fair. So neither could we.”

  “Now I know where Bernatto gets his line of bullshit,” Caine snarled.

  “This planet isn’t getting any bigger. No matter how many rounds of Kumbaya we sing, resources are limited. Everyday, people slaughter each other all across God’s green earth for a slice of the pie. You think fighting over oil and gas is bad? Wait till it comes down to drinkable water. Clean air. Hell, a square foot of empty space to grow food. That’s the war that’s coming, son. You’re either king of the hill, or someone’s boot is in your face.”

  Caine turned his stare back to Bernatto. The scarred, burned half of the man’s face was blank and unreadable.

  “I’ve heard all this before, Grissom,” Caine said. “But Bernatto didn’t betray me out of principles, or some paranoid delusion about a coming war. It was money. Guns, drugs … just money.”

  “Look around you, Tom,” Grissom replied. “What do you think paid for all this? If there’s one thing I know, it’s war. I’ve seen all kinds. Short and quick. Long and bloody. Cold, hot, and everything in between. I learned long ago, the only way to win this kind of war was to fight it outside the system. And that takes money. Vast sums of it. Condor Group was the first step. Men like you and Jack helped me secure valuable intel. Resources. Funding. Equipment. But I always knew that sooner or later, the powers that be would step in. I was an embarrassment to them. I was winning, and they weren’t even in the game yet.”

  “That’s why you kept our group off-books. So you could use them to continue to fund this insane private war of yours.”

  “Condor Group was just a nickname. Officially, you and the men you worked with fell under the umbrella of Operation Blackwing. The D/CIA at the time saw the need for a unit like yours. A deniable team. A secret cell, recruited from within the ranks of the Special Activities Division and other paramilitary units. But after a few operations, the higher ups got cold feet. They were afraid of the blowback, so they ordered me to disband the unit. Well, that was just a waste of good material, as far as I was concerned. Later, they tried to bring me up on charges, but none of those old fools had the stomach to get in the trenches with me. I left on my own terms and continued doing the work that had to be done. Privatization, Tom. It’s the way of the future.”

  Caine nodded to himself. “Blackwing Capital. You own it. You own Delta Blue, the African Hunger Alliance. You own all of it.”

  “I can’t take all the credit. I have people like Allan here helping me with the day to day details. But thanks to Blackwing Capital, and the revenue it’s accumulated over the years, I have my own private army. My own intelligence sources. A satellite and communications network. And now, I’m about to have my own damn country.”

  Caine laughed, a short, cynical bark. “You’re planning a coup? With Simon Takuba in charge? The President and the rebels have been squabbling over power here for years. Dozens of nations and oil conglomerates have their fingers in the pie. No way a psycho like Takuba can hold it together.”

  Grissom smiled. “Takuba may be crazy, but at least he’s got some fire to him. The man has vision. And sometimes, that’s all it takes. Takuba doesn’t have to hold the country together, he just has to take the major oil fields and hold them long enough for Gemini to do its work.”

  “You’re planning to release the Gemini Virus into the oil pipelines? Once the death toll begins, you’ll shut down oil production in this entire country!”

  “Only temporarily. You see, while the United States has backed South Sudan in its struggle for independence, we ended up getting the short end of the stick. That son of a bitch we put in charge, President Kiir? He drives around in a limousine with his black cowboy hat and designer suits. Owns a multi-million dollar house. Has lunch with the President of the United States at the Goddamn White House. And what the hell has he done for us?”

  Caine was silent. He stared at the screen and let Grissom continue his rant.

  “Right now,” the old man sputtered, “China controls over seventy-five percent of oil investment in South Sudan. The few U.S. companies that were here pulled out due to security concerns and human rights violations.”

  “And you think a military coup, backed by a biological weapon, is going to make things any better?”

  A new image blinked across one of the larger screens. It was a map, showing the key oil fields of South Sudan. Red lines ran from each oil field to a point at the northern border of the country.

  “These are the five largest oil fields in South Sudan. Adar, Block 5A, Fula, Palogue, and Unity. Chevron spent over a billion dollars exploring Unity alone. Now it’s owned by a Chinese consortium. All that oil flows north, through the Greater Nile Oil Pipeline. Also controlled by the Chinese.”

  “I doubt China is going to pack up and leave just because you ask nicely.”

  Grissom
chuckled. “No, it’s going to take a bit more than that. Takuba and his men, backed by my hand-picked Delta Blue advisors and armed with state of the art weaponry, are going to take control of these oil fields.”

  Caine squinted at the map. He thought back to the crates of weapons he had discovered in the truck. “Rebel forces have attacked these oil fields before, but they could never hold them. The South Sudanese armed forces have aerial support, helicopters.”

  Grissom’s face wrinkled into a smug grin. “My MANPADS will even those odds. And like I said, Takuba only has to hold the fields long enough to pump the Gemini Virus into the pipeline. Once that happens, it will grow and multiply inside the oil.”

  The map zoomed into the pipeline, following its twisting curves north to Khartoum.

  Caine stared at the screens. “Any oil that runs through the pipeline will become worthless. It can’t be refined without unleashing the virus and infecting the workers. China and the others will be forced to abandon their holdings.”

  Grissom smiled. “Oh, it might take them a minute. But after enough men die, they’ll go running home with their tails between their legs. Leaving Blackwing Capital to take control of all oil production in South Sudan. You see, I don’t just have the Gemini Virus. I have the compound that can neutralize it and allow the oil to be processed normally. And once the oil starts flowing again, no one is going to want to risk upsetting the balance. The rest of the world will bend over backwards to support Takuba’s regime. He can call himself President, emperor, supreme leader, whatever the hell he wants. But I’ll control the oil. And with Delta Blue contracted to provide security, we can ensure the region remains stable. At the end of the day, isn’t that all that matters?”

  “What about the thousands that Gemini kills before China pulls out? All the soldiers and civilians that burn in your little coup? What about the hell a man like Takuba will unleash on the people of this country?”

  Grissom gave an exaggerated sigh. “Look around you, Tom. Every day in this country, thousands die. Millions starve or are displaced from their homes. Villages burn, women are raped and mutilated. This country sits on top of trillions of dollars in oil wealth. Meanwhile, the rebels are slaughtering each other over stolen cows and tribal feuds a hundred years old. Now, a few thousand more lives, in exchange for peace and stability? That sounds like a good deal to me.”