Strike Matrix

by Aiden L Bailey

  Peri ignored them and turned a corner, entering an open space built upon layers of accumulated trash. The ground underfoot ran with muddy waters, bringing with it the putrid stench of excrement. The muck drenched her feet up to her ankles. She turned in a full circle noting the many paths she could take, but there was no logic to the layout. No clear path out of this location.

  “You copy, Alfa Three?” she said touching her two-way radio speak pod.

  “Affirmative, Delta One?” Emily Dawson rattled back over the radio comms.

  “Eagle One overhead?”

  “Yes, Delta One. I have eyes on you, X-ray Two, Delta Two, Delta Three, Yankee One and Yankee Two.”

  “Copy that.” Peri translated the code. The Predator drone was circling overhead, tracking the movements of Ashcroft, Wilks, Pfündl, Gridley-Brooks and Ndulu Adebayo. “What about X-ray One, has Alfa One secured her?”

  “Alfa One transporting X-ray One to Tactical Operation Command as we speak.”

  Peri felt a guilty relief. It had been a risk leaving Claire Skaffen on her own, but the risk had paid off. Nothing had afflicted Skaffen, and the cyberterrorist was now in their custody, thanks to Szymanski.

  “Good, can you direct me to X-ray Two?”

  “Affirmative Ma’am. Head southeast, second alley after the pipeline. Twelve hundred meters.”

  Peri scanned the shanty lined streets, identifying debris and flowing water, and the large nine foot diameter water mains running through the heart of Dharavi. This was the route she needed to take. She checked that her P228 handgun was secure in its holster then advanced through the crowds, wiping away the water running down her face.

  A crackle came over the radio, followed by a sharp gasp. “Delta One, do you copy?” Dawson cried out.

  “Go ahead Alfa Three.”

  “Agent down. Repeat, agent down. X-ray Two just incapacitated Delta Two.”

  “What?”

  “Surprised him, Ma’am. I repeat, Delta Two down. X-ray Two is now performing a body search on Delta Two.”

  Peri took off at a sprint. “Keep tracking X-ray Two!”

  “Affirmative Delta One,” answered Dawson.

  “Can you take him out if I give the order, with Eagle One?”

  “Copy that. Hellfires locked and loaded. Just give the order, Delta One.”

  “Copy that.”

  Sergeant Pfündl’s voice crackled over the radio waves. “Delta One, this is Delta Three.”

  “Go ahead, Delta Three?”

  “Hold off on Eagle One. I’m almost at Delta Two’s—”

  “X-ray Two moving from Delta Two,” Dawson interrupted, “He’s headed southeast. He’ll run into Yankee Two if he’s not careful.”

  “Copy that,” Peri panted as she ran. “Delta Three, I’ll meet you at Delta Two’s location. ETA five minutes.”

  Peri pushed on as fast as her wheezing lungs would allow, her feet soaked with dirty water and her blouse sticking to her body armor like a second layer of skin. The rain pounding on the tin roofs drowned out all other noise, but the weather at least had cleared the crowds. Within ten minutes she reached Sergeants Wilks and Pfündl in an otherwise empty passageway. Pfündl stood with his legs wide, handgun raised and eyes watching every exit and entry point to this location. Wilks sat in a puddle. He held his left hand. Snapped at the wrist, it was purple and limp. There was no doubt Wilks was out of commission, but thankfully he appeared otherwise unharmed.

  “What happened to you two? What’s the sitrep?”

  “Ma’am,” Pfündl acknowledged her then returned his to gaze to the streets, on the lookout for potential threats. “X-ray Two gave us the slip. Jumped Delta Two and took his gun.”

  Peri sighed and looked down at Wilks. His good hand rubbed the back of his head where he had been pistol-whipped. She edged closer, saw a huge bruise forming on the left side of his forehead and a blood-smeared broken nose. Complicating the situation was the muck he was sitting in. They’d have to race him to a hospital otherwise his wounds would become septic. “How did you get taken down by X-ray Two?”

  “Ma’am,” Pfündl responded, “even operators get ambushed sometimes. This guy has training. He knows what he’s doing.”

  “You snapped your wrist Delta Two?”

  “Yeah, sorry about that,” he winced as he nursed his wrist. The pain must have been intense because she’d never seen a special forces soldier look as pale and ghostly as he did now. For a moment, she thought there were tears in his eyes, but it was hard to tell with all the rain.

  “Looks like we need to get you to a hospital.”

  “Delta Two will be fine,” jested Pfündl.

  “Fuck off. Why don’t you kiss it better for me, and we’ll see then?” countered Wilks.

  “Does it hurt that bad?”

  “Yeah, like Satan’s asshole.”

  “Delta Three!” Keser interrupted the banter. Now was not the time for jokes. They needed to secure Ashcroft, and if they didn’t move on him soon, they would lose him, or Gridley-Brooks and Adebayo would take him out. She looked to Pfündl. “Unlike your buddy, I hope you’re uninjured?”

  “I am Ma’am.”

  “Then what are you waiting for, get after X-ray Two. Now!”

  “Yes, Ma’am.”

  “I’ll deal with Delta Two.”

  Pfündl sprinted into the labyrinthian passageways. Wilks pivoted on the watery ground where he sat, then got into his knees wincing with agony every time he jolted his wrist. “Did you secure X-ray One?” Wilks asked through gritted teeth.

  Keser nodded. “Yeah, Alfa One’s just collected her. He’s taking her to the Tactical Operation Center.”

  “What about Yankee One and Two?” Wilks was up on one knee now. He didn’t look good. She thought to offer a helping hand but suspected he wouldn’t want it. “Are they still on the radar?” he asked.

  Peri nodded. “Here in Dharavi, somewhere. I followed them in but lost them. I’ve got Alfa Three searching using Eagle One. Presuming the Yankees are still hunting X-ray Two.”

  Wilks stumbled. Peri stopped worrying about his pride and leaped forward to steady him. He seemed grateful for the help, but also embarrassed. She’d never met a special forces type who enjoyed admitting he needed help.

  “Can you stand?” she asked.

  “Yeah, give me a minute…” Wilks groaned and pulled himself up, using her grip on his good hand as leverage. Once on his feet he walked easily enough, but soon his movements became stumbles. Peri supported him with an arm around the waist. “I’m sorry Ma’am,” he said after they had walked a few hundred meters. “I’m out for the count until I fix my arm. Pain shooting down my arm is excruciating. Must have pinched a nerve or something.”

  “That’s fine Delta Two.”

  “I can’t believe the fucker got me like that.”

  “Don’t worry, we’ll get him. He’s dealing with the United States Government now.”

  “Fuck it hurts.”

  The blast of another gunshot echoed through the streets. Peri turned towards the noise, identifying it as coming from the southeast, the direction Ashcroft and Pfündl had taken.

  “You better get after them,” Wilks said through clenched teeth. “I’ll wait here.”

  Peri nodded and took off.

  As she ran, she called Emily Dawson. “Alfa Three, this is Delta One?”

  “Go ahead Delta One.”

  “Direct me to X-ray Two.”

  “Copy that. Be advised, Yankee Two has X-ray Two pinned down with a pistol. Delta Three will be on their position in minutes.”

  “And Eagle One?”

  “Locked on X-ray Two’s position. Give me the order, and I’ll send a Hellfire up his ass so fast he won’t know what hit him.”

  “That’s a last resort Alfa Three. I still want X-ray Two alive.”

  “Copy that.”

  Dawson relayed simple directions leading Peri to Ashcroft’s location.

  Before she arrived at the de
stination, she heard more gunfire, two loud and echoing shots. She turned a corner fast enough to see Ashcroft put two more bullets into Pfündl while he was down, executing him.

  Taking in everything as the Secret Service had trained her to do, she noticed the corpse of Ndulu Adebayo behind Ashcroft, face down in the mud. Had Ashcroft also executed his old friend?

  A flash of lightning lit the skies.

  Ashcroft looked up, seeing her for the first time.

  Thunder rolled through the crackling atmosphere.

  Without conscious thought, she withdrew her P228 and fired her weapon; the recoil jarring through her outstretched arms with each squeeze of the trigger. Ashcroft was taking out her people one by one, and she wouldn’t stand for it any longer.

  She kept firing, controlled but rapid shots.

  But Ashcroft moved fast. He was behind cover now, and every shot had missed. Why was her aim so bad? She could only put her failure down to her illness.

  With a sickening sense of dread, she squeezed the trigger one more time and heard a click. She was out of bullets.

  Ashcroft stepped out and fired. His aim was off, surprising her because he had proved himself to be an accurate marksman. Then she saw why. Simon was running right at her. He didn’t want her dead. He wanted her as his prisoner.

  Peri turned and fled.

  The passageway ahead was long, providing multiple opportunities for Ashcroft to shoot her before she reached the end.

  Not wishing to risk death, she rammed her body against the door of a concrete house until the hinges gave and she leaped inside.

  A young woman at a stove cooking rice and a curry cried out. Several toddlers on the floor and on the single bed looked up with doleful, confused stares. Washing hung on lines crowding the already tiny space.

  The woman’s yelps became screams as Peri stumbled further inside, tearing down the washing in her frantic dash toward another exit.

  More gunshots exploded behind her and she had ducked inside just in time. The woman grabbed the youngest child and fled outside, herding her other children with her.

  Alone, Peri searched, expecting another exit but finding none. The home was ten feet by ten feet, with no windows in the blue-painted walls. It had been a rookie mistake entering this building assuming it contained another exit.

  The door still swinging on its hinges flung open and shattered as it impacted the wall.

  Ashcroft raced at her.

  She grabbed the pot with the boiling rice and flung it at his face.

  Simon ducked. The steamy water splashing over the walls. The saucepan clanged on the concrete wall and fell to the floor.

  There had been no time to reload her P228, so she grabbed the second saucepan and flung it at Simon.

  He ducked but not fast enough. It collected him in the arm, covering his shirt in hot curry. He ignored the burning pain and came for her.

  She glimpsed a knife from the corner of her eye, snatched it and slashed.

  Ashcroft raised his left hand as the blade cut through the flesh of his foreman. Blood sprayed like a fountain covering her in the wet, sticky fluids. He stepped back, a look of surprise on his face as he grabbed his forearm to stem the crimson flow.

  “Copy that, Delta One.”

  Dawson’s voice, speaking through the earbud.

  Simon came for Peri.

  She lunged again with the knife.

  Ashcroft was too fast, sidestepping and wrenching her arm. He pulled her forward and swung her against the wall. The impact was like a punch in the gut, winding her. The knife flung from her grip and clattered across the floor.

  Dawson spoke again, “Copy and understood—”

  The impact left Peri woozy and unsteady on her feet.

  “Delta One—”

  Simon came at her again. He reached to grab her wrist.

  “X-ray Two is the target—”

  She kicked him in the knee.

  He twisted and winched.

  “Rifle. Rifle. Rifle!” Dawson exclaimed.

  A hand came from nowhere, grabbed her tight around the shoulder, and spun her around. She tripped on an obstacle underfoot and whacked her head against the wall.

  “Hellfire launched—”

  Peri staggered again. It was she and not Ashcroft who was taking the beating.

  “Target locked and loaded—”

  She ducked down and spun again to face Ashcroft as he tried to grapple her once more.

  “One minute twelve seconds—”

  “What?” Peri exclaimed.

  Ashcroft reached out, snatching at her flailing hands.

  This time she was fast enough, blocked his blow, twisted from her awkward position and jabbed him in the kidney.

  He groaned from the pain but slowed for only a second. A hand came up and grabbed her by her ponytail. He pulled her sideways.

  “Fifty-five seconds—”

  Ashcroft found purchase around her left hand, pressed it hard against the blue wall. He released her ponytail and pushed his muscular body against hers, pinning her. She tried to strike him with her right hand, but he expected it and snatched hold of her second wrist.

  “Who do you work for?” he demanded, his Australian accent detached and cold.

  “Fifty seconds—” Dawson’s voice was loud in Peri’s earbud.

  He shook her, “Where have you taken Skaffen?”

  Peri tried to speak, but Dawson’s frantic countdown distracted her.

  “Forty seconds—”

  Ashcroft pulled her right hand down, pinning it against the wall. “If you hurt her…”

  “Predator—” Peri gasped.

  “What?” Simon yelled in her ear.

  “Thirty seconds—”

  “Predator drone, it—”

  “Twenty seconds—”

  “What are you talking about Keser?”

  Her eyes grew wide with horror. How did he know her name?

  “Fifteen seconds—”

  “Hellfire missile, Ashcroft, T-Minus fifteen seconds.”

  The Australian paled.

  “Ten seconds—” came Dawson’s monotone through Peri’s earbud.

  Peri’s head spun. She hadn’t ordered the missile strike, so who had? Not Ashcroft, for he couldn’t have hacked into their system at the same time he was immobilizing her here at ground zero?

  Nothing made sense.

  Peri didn’t want to die in an illogical situation. She didn’t want it to end like this, not while everything was so confusing —

  “Eight seconds—”

  “Eight seconds Ashcroft,” she repeated, coughing and spluttering. “Seven seconds… six…”

  Ashcroft dragged her from the building.

  They sprinted. He pulled her faster than her legs would carry her.

  There was no noise, not at first. Hellfires traveled at supersonic speeds. First was the bright, searing light erupting from the dwelling, then the concussion wave that lifted them off their feet and catapulted them through the air. Only then did she hear the fierce, thunderous explosion, before another shanty house ahead raced up from nowhere. The rough concrete wall filled up her vision as she hit it hard.

  Then everything went black.

  CHAPTER 19

  Abu Dhabi, United Arab Emirates

  As Nahla Asem drove, Conner Rafferty stared through the passenger window, watched the Burj Lanihaya loom on the horizon like a giant futuristic rocket ready for take-off. Three tall, sharp triangles encased in glass and steel were a simple but effective architectural design, their apexes meeting at a point gave the illusion that the tower was infinite, as if stretching into the heavens and out of sight.

  As they drove closer, the surrounding opulent gardens further promoted the angular theme with mosaics of triangular wedged footpaths, plant beds and water fountains. Multiple palm trees provided a sense of greenery and offered shade.

  They found a carpark a few hundred meters from the Burj Lanihaya, then walked.

  “Wh
ere do we meet him?” Nahla asked.

  Conner shrugged. “McIntyre’s the spy. Let him find us.”

  Guards in black suits with sub-machine guns and serious frowns were the gatekeepers of the few entrances, otherwise they cordoned the tower off with temporary fences. Black limousines with tinted windows lined up one after the other waited behind the main gap in the fence. Once through on the other side, the luxury vehicles dropped important people outside the main foyer. Wealthy Arabs in their long, white loose-fitting kandura robes, headscarves and black head bands, and women with hijabs and black abayas robes, mingled together in muted discussions. Despite the heat, Arabs and Westerners wore the latest New York, London and Parisian business suits complete with silk ties and jackets. The many dignitaries huddled in groups, men kissing men, or shaking hands and conversing.

  Conner approached a barrier figuring if he looked like he belonged they would let him in. No such luck. A guard raised a Heckler and Koch submachine gun and yelled at him in fast, clipped Arabic. He pointed his weapon showing that Conner should step away. Conner did as they told him.

  “Something going on, Nahla?” he asked when he rejoined her.

  She rolled her eyes. “You really don’t keep up, do you? This is the second day of ANEF. The Arab Nations Economic Forum?”

  Conner shrugged. He hadn’t been keeping up with the latest news because he no longer cared or believed any of it.

  “That’s why McIntyre will be here,” she added. “He’ll be working.”

  Nodding, Conner scanned the scene. There were people everywhere. He paid attention, spotted many men in suits with bulges under their arms where they packed semi-automatic pistols, and earbuds connected to radios no doubt hidden on their persons. Surveillance CCTV cameras up high watched the proceedings unfolding below, no doubt recording everything. He felt certain NSA eyes were watching it all in real time back in Maryland.

  Nahla shook her head. “Prime ministers, presidents, ministers, global economic leaders, heads of Arab businesses. They’re all here Conner.”

  “I don’t follow the news anymore,” he scoffed, feeling justified in his newfound ignorance. “It’s all lies these days.” He scanned the crowds, recognizing several key members of numerous prominent royal families from across the Gulf States. There were a few U.S. Senators, and at least one Congressman. Despite his snubs, he appreciated that this meeting was a big deal.