Behold Darkness

by L C Champlin

  “Should they be?” The chief glanced back, brow raised.

  Shrug. “With the outdoors crawling with cannibals, maneuvering prisoners to the ground floor and into transport will be difficult. The faster they’re out of here, the better.”

  “Your concern is admirable. They will be secure, do not worry.”

  Cheel rounded a corner, down the hall leading to the stairs. Where was he leading? The second floor walkway, no doubt.

  At the stair door, two more terrorists in shemaghs joined them. One favored his left leg.

  The group trotted down the stairs, boots thundering in the stairwell. Birk stayed abreast of Nathan. Dread came off the researcher in waves as sweat beaded on his bloodless face. Outmaneuvered, the motherfucker should feel uneasy.

  Second floor. And the bridge, as expected.

  Ali met them at the exit. He saluted Cheel before delivering a statement in Arabic.

  His chief nodded. “Very good, Captain.” He turned to smile at the Americans. “Transportation will arrive momentarily.”

  Two of the gunmen moved down the passage, rifles up, scanning the lots on either side of the bridge. When they reached the terminus, they signaled the all-clear.

  Cheel led the way. Nathan squinted down at the parking lot and street—and chuckled inwardly at the sight of over a dozen cannibals. Apparently the car alarms from the rental lot had done their job. The alternative, that the monsters’ now saturated the city, didn’t bear considering. No terrorists on the ground yet . . .

  Ahead, Cheel opened the door to the sister building. They trooped inside, joining the two scouts, who took the lead. Two turns and a hall later, they reached the stairs and headed up. The murk surrounded Nathan like a fog that clung to his skin.

  Finally they reached the door to the roof. Cheel turned to smile at his entourage. Nathan stopped breathing as he fought to keep his fists from clenching, from revealing his lust for the outside.

  “The moment of finality, my friends. I thank you both”—eye contact with Nathan and Birk—“for your cooperation. Now you will be rewarded for your pains.”

  “Thank you, Sri Cheel,” Nathan replied. “I’m sure this is the beginning of a long and profitable relationship for us both.”

  “Of course.” Cheel turned and opened the roof door.

  ++++++++++++

  Albin headed for the other body. He passed Behrmann as she ported an armload of magazines, another rifle, and a semi-automatic pistol. Upon reaching the corpse, he took the legs and began hauling it through the maze, toward the other terrorist.

  “This is so sick,” Behrmann muttered from behind.

  “Take a leg.” He offered the left, which she took in the same manner she would have received a rotting fish.

  “None of this seems to . . .” She paused as they negotiated a corner. “I mean, you seem to be taking all this in stride.”

  “Should I be curled in the fetal position in a corner, weeping and begging to awaken from the nightmare?”

  “I just mean you handled yourself like a professional. Do you have a military background?”

  They emerged onto the debris field of the roof outskirts. He looked about before answering: “Yes and no.

  “Get under the shoulder and—There. Good,” he breathed as she helped him lean the body against the rail.

  On one knee, he slid out of the backpack and rummaged in the bottom. He produced his wallet, from which he removed a set of earplugs. “We lay down suppressive fire. Shoot at—”

  “I know what suppressive fire is,” she replied, digging in her pocket. Albin stared as she came up with a set of earplugs.

  Decoys set, arms and ammunition gathered, he checked the roof again. Just as he began to lower the rifle, the other roof’s access door opened and five figures stepped out. His pulse ticked up: Mr. Serebus strode onto the scene behind a man who bore a leader’s air. Cheel. Birk and two terrorists followed.

  “The gang’s all here,” Behrmann commented as she glared across.

  “Ms. Josephine.”

  When she glanced at him, he met and held her blue gaze. “This is your opportunity to make an impact.”

  Chapter 86

  One Big Family Reunion

  God Hates Us – Avenged Sevenfold

  A gust met Nathan, thick with smoke and exhaust. Two more terrorists waited. At their feet . . . knelt Rodriguez and Murphy, bound and blindfolded. No ground transport for them?

  Cheel stepped past them to scan the sky. He turned back to smile at the assembled. “A new day is dawning as corruption is swept away by fire.”

  “Just so long as I get out of here,” Nathan responded.

  On the ground to his right, Murphy and Rodriguez stiffened. “Serebus?” the DHS bulldog snarled. “You fucking traitor!”

  “Ever the charmer, Rodriguez. And I prefer the term opportunist.”

  Cheel motioned for the guards to stand the hostages. “Remove the blindfolds.” Regaining their sight, the two glared about in defiance. Their attention locked on Nathan—who turned his head toward them to hide his wink and half smile from Cheel.

  Murphy spat in reply. “You godforsaken waste-of-skin bastard! It’s ‘cause of you they killed him. If I could reach you—”

  “God, I knew I should have cuffed you from the start!” Rodriguez strained to reach Nathan, but the terrorist held her in check.

  “Gag them,” Cheel ordered. “Thank you, Mr. Serebus and Dr. Birk, for a diverting morning. You both put up an admirable effort. My apologies, Doctor, but Mr. Serebus carries the day.”

  “Do I? In what class?” Dread tightened Nathan’s chest.

  With a wolf grin Cheel clapped his hands once, gave him a slight bow. “Well played to the end! I truly wish we could have worked together longer, but I value my life and position too much to allow my enemy a foothold.”

  An invisible five-gallon cooler of ice dumped over Nathan, stopping his heart and freezing his breath. It all made sense: the smiles, the calm, the patience. I’ve been a goddamned fool. Cheel knew. Cheel let him posture and maneuver as long as it ended with the data in terrorist hands. What did the chief care if his enemy accomplished, or believed he had accomplished, minor plots? If the cell holds, no one cares what the prisoner does inside. Cheel knew. He knew everything.

  Survival instinct kicked in, recharged Nathan’s nervous system—and his logic. No, not everything.

  “I must say, Mr. Serebus, your plans were impressive. Though veritably bankrupt for resources, you managed to manipulate your way past considerable obstacles. The descriptions of you were understatements in every way!” Cheel laughed.

  “It was a happy coincidence that you had the honor of meeting me, then.” Nathan gave a wry smile.

  “Coincidence?” Cheel held up a finger as he shook his head. “I do not believe in them. I knew much of you due to your summit. I hoped to meet you after the St. Regis strike, but you disappeared.”

  A thrill of satisfaction cracked down Nathan’s spine.

  “I thought you a lost cause until I heard through my sources that you were with the DHS. It took a bit of effort to, as you say, ‘put a bug in the ear’ of the commanders so they would reroute your helicopter rather than send another.” A mole in the military? Not a surprise, considering service members committed mass shootings at bases around the country. Reports to the right person, even from a private, could prompt a change of plans. The officer who diverted the chopper probably pledged allegiance to the USA with as much gusto as the next person and believed he was acting to rescue a survivor.

  Warming to his subject, Cheel continued, “Dr. Birk made fine, unwitting bait.” He nodded to the researcher, who looked ready to vomit.

  “Why am I so special, aside from my obvious value?” Nathan asked. The bastard chose to talk now, of course, when the information only made the discovery that much more infuriating. Little did he know death waited above.

  Cheel shrugged. “Is it no
t obvious? The servers are your company’s. If Birk failed, you would not.”

  “You knew I’d agree to help you, or at least act as a bargaining chip.”

  “I knew your character.”

  “I’m sure you did.” Did. No more did Nathan Serebus prevent the sacrifice, now he preyed upon the slayer.

  Cheel clapped his hands. “It was an education and a pleasure to watch your machinations. Sadly, this is the end of your role.”

  Keep him talking. “Did you believe any of my façade?”

  Cheel gave a bark of laughter. “Have you forgotten our little deductions game? I knew enough then. You are not a man who submits.”

  “Damn straight.”

  “The exchange with your servant was quite believable, but then I asked myself, why would your man not have acted sooner, striking you at the St. Regis? Did he believe he needed you to ensure his escape? Perhaps. Or perhaps it was all a farce like your truce with me.”

  Nathan’s fists clenched. “How could I make a truce with a murderer who didn’t intend to keep his word and who would benefit from betraying me?”

  “This from the paragon of virtue that is Nathan Serebus?” Another laugh. “Ah, but I am a man of my word where it matters. You will have a reward for your trouble.”

  “The only reward I care about is my life.”

  “Alas, that I cannot grant.”

  He’s going to fucking shoot me. “I thought you weren’t one to waste resources.”

  “I believe I clarified the difference between waste and investment.”

  “Succinctly.” One, two, three, four.

  “Even my little show with Captain Ali’s allegiance was an investment.” No surprise there. “Now, these two infidels”—Cheel motioned to Murphy and Rodriguez, who remained silent but defiant—“have insulted you as well as our cause. I will permit you to see their punishment.”

  Ali stepped forward. “We should burn the infidels alive for their blasphemy against Allah. At least permit me to lay on them the blows they deserve.”

  Cheel raised a hand. “Thank you, Captain, but a firearm will suffice.”

  ++++++++++++

  Through the rifle scope, Albin studied the faces on the opposite roof. Something unexpected and disastrous had occurred, judging by the expressions of the hostages and Mr. Serebus.

  A chill rippled down Albin’s spine as the truth dawned. “They mean to kill them. Quickly, take a position down there.” He pointed to a place halfway along the railing, four meters from the second corpse. “There are snipers with automatic rifles and at least one RPG next door. When I give the word—”

  “I keep their heads down.” Resolution and unease warred across her face, but she held her weapon ready. “Don’t worry; I remember what you taught me.” Then she turned and, keeping low, trotted to her position.

  Chapter 87

  Neither Rashly Nor Timidly

  Leave My Body – Florence + The Machine

  “Now, Captain,” Cheel continued in the tone of a supervisor requesting copies from an intern, “please make sure our friend Mr. Serebus stays calm.”

  The 1911 slid from its holster. Ali leveled it at Nathan’s throat, just above the carrier. By raising his arms in surrender, Nathan could summon death from above. Or he could disarm the fucker.

  Wait. The voice deep in the shadows of his mind stayed him. The amarok lived alone, but he, the new breed, led a pack.

  “What am I going to do?” Nathan sneered. “Run away?”

  Cheel grinned as he fiddled with his radio’s channel. “It’s not you I’m worried about. It’s your man.”

  Nathan blanched. Had he planned this as a way to smoke out Albin, not knowing for sure if he remained in the area?

  Scanning the surrounding lots, Cheel keyed his mic. “I do hope you can hear me, Mr. Albin Conrad, Esquire.”

  ++++++++++++

  Nausea writhed in Albin’s stomach at the realization: the terrorist knew.

  “If you can, then I suspect you have a rifle trained on me. Know this: My men have orders to make killing Mr. Serebus and the other hostages their top priority if we are attacked. There is also an RPG trained on your location. Is this clear?”

  A few meters away, Behrmann looked at Albin with eyes wide and face bloodless. “What do we do?”

  Albin held up a hand for silence. The corpse made an effective blind. He could see but remain invisible if he peeked around the carcass’s head.

  Cheel surveyed the buildings, but his gaze slid across Doorway’s roofline without stopping. He must not know the enemy’s exact location. In that case, he bluffed regarding the RPG. He did not bluff, however, regarding the hostages and Mr. Serebus.

  “You made your choice to stay and defend your master. Surrender now, and I will hold my fire. Ignore me, and I kill the hostages one by one. The last will be Mr. Serebus.”

  “We have to do something—” Behrmann’s voice faded into the background.

  The air temperature rose by twenty degrees as the sun blazed on Albin’s back. He swallowed, his throat like Libyan sand. Why did history repeat itself? It failed nineteen years ago. This time would prove no different.

  The roof access door slammed. Either Cheel knew Albin’s location, or his men had arrived to investigate the disappearance of their comrades.

  One choice blazed like the sun among the others, forced Albin to avert his mental gaze. “Josephine.” He fixed her with a look of pure urgency and desperation. “Hide. Then act. Find the RPG—”

  “Give me three minutes.” She scrambled across the gravel for the safety of the maze. Her desire to report and be the news would undergo the test of her life.

  “What is your decision, Mr. Conrad?” Cheel turned to look at Doorway’s roof—at Albin—as he spoke. “Choose now. Even silence is an answer.”

  Chapter 88

  Habeas Corpus

  Skyfall – Noah Guthrie

  Red fogged the edges of Nathan’s vision. Don’t say anything, Albin. I can handle this.

  From the corner of his eye, Nathan watched the Doorway building’s roof. The two terrorists who guarded the rail remained in the positions they had occupied when he arrived here. Then movement from the far right. A blond man stood, arms outstretched like Moses parting the Red Sea, or the Savior about to die.

  Nathan choked back the roar that tore at his chest, clawed up his vocal cords. His knees locked, keeping him upright.

  Three terrorists burst from the air-handler farm to surround Albin. One stripped him of his weapons while the others trained AKs at his head. He offered no resistance as they zip-tied his hands behind him.

  ++++++++++++

  The vault of Albin’s mind slid shut.

  The sheet of cirrostratus clouds covering the sky formed a halo around the sun. A storm would come later. Rain would wash the blood from the streets.

  Distantly men gave orders. Zip ties bit into Albin’s wrists.

  If he failed today, they would all die. If he had chosen to desert, he would have lost all he valued—his standards, his self respect, his friend—and damned his soul to a living Hell. If he died now, he died at peace. He finished what he started.

  They accomplished the impossible daily. Miracles required more time. At least three minutes more.

  ++++++++++++

  Every muscle in Nathan screamed to attack the fucker who had caused this. He made it one step before Ali grabbed the back of his vest. But Cheel’s pistol, not the dog, halted him, its barrel gaping in hunger.

  Nathan snarled, chest heaving. Magma of rage roiled in his heart. Then the Arctic wind roared in his ears. Wait. The voice in the darkness again. The blizzard swept over the magma.

  Albin was acting on a plan. Of all people, he would never offer himself as a sacrifice.

  Nathan let out a breath. His shoulders rolled back as he stood tall. Challenge accepted.

  “Good,” the terrorist chief murmured as he lowered his pistol. “H
e chose for himself. Remember that.”

  Arabic crackled from the mic on Cheel’s shoulder. Brow cocked, he turned to face Doorway, and Albin. “Go on,” he replied.

  One of the terrorists held an HT up for Albin. “Sri Cheel, I thought you would have disposed of the trash already.” Yes, continue to play off Nathan’s “assassination.”

  “And I thought you would have discarded the façade of the traitor by now,” Cheel responded with a smile.

  ++++++++++++

  “Did Serebus tell you it was a façade, or did you reach that conclusion on your own?” Albin inquired. The sneer carried in the tone.

  “The act has grown stale. If you had indeed betrayed your master, you would be far from here now.”

  Albin nodded for the terrorist at his side to hit the PTT. “Serebus trusts too easily. He’s especially blind to and foolishly protective of those he considers family. He should worry for himself instead.” Carry out any plan you have without worry for me. “Yeah, as he should’ve learned at Cyril, he can’t always be at the wheel. I have my own goals; you’ll see the press release soon, right after the fireworks.” The alteration in speech pattern should call attention to the message: I will act as support. The reporter is with me. The RPG is our concern. “I am here to see for myself that he was either killed or relocated.”

  “Rest assured, he will not escape.”

  “I am aware of that now. I am also aware that you intended to kill him and the hostages whether I showed myself or not. Unfortunately, had I fled, your men would have killed me anyway. I stood because I want to see Serebus fall for myself.”

  “Fucking traitor!” Mr. Serebus roared across the man-made grotto, straining at the captain’s hold on his vest. Good, he could hear the radio transmission. “You should have done a better job killing me in the lot!”