When Mayhem Cries

by Alex Howell

  Raina remarked, “I hope you know what you are doing Chris…”

  Chris Bradley was all confidence and bravado as he bluntly offered, “I do.”

  Bradley then stuck the puck right under the generator, and plugged the ignition key in before calmly, but loudly shouting, “Ok—get back. Time to go.”

  Raina and Chris then hopped off the platform and waited for the fireworks a short distance below. Just seconds later, they heard a sizzle, pop, and then an odd sounding boom that seemed somehow distorted as the whole generator seemed to disintegrate in reverse, completely folding in on itself. Chris grinned, “Another successful implosion—I love it.”

  Just then Raina noticed a familiar face. Down in the crowd below was a man dressed in an Armani suit. She immediately realized that it was the same exact guy that they had spotted at the abandoned church. She told Chris as much as she pointed at the guy, “Chris—it’s one of the suspects!” Raina realized in retrospect that pointing and yelling may not have been the best tact, since it only prompted the man to turn around and run in the other direction.

  Nevertheless, Chris and Raina leapt off the float and began tearing their way through the crowd to the suspect. They lucked out when Mr. Armani reached a road block. Chris then closed the distance between them and managed to grab a hold of the man’s collar. As several spectators attempted to get away however, he was able to jerk loose.

  Raina hearing the loud ripping of fabric looked up to see Chris Bradley holding onto a chunk of fabric ripped from the man’s suit, but Mr. Amani himself was nowhere in sight. In the end, all of the suspects—quite literally in some cases—had managed to elude their grasp.

  20

  Back to the Old Drawing Board

  A FEW HOURS LATER BACK AT THE ONYX COMMAND CENTER IN NYC. The group is seated at a conference table with General Thomson at the head. The cantankerous old General was looking through the latest reports from the debriefing memo that Kyle had compiled. After a moment of silence which for the Onyx team members seemed to take a small eternity, the General finally asked, “So you have the virus in your custody?”

  Without saying a word, Mason got up and opened a nearby minifridge and pulled out the biobag containing the sealed vials of the virus. Watching him as he did so Thomson remarked, “I hope you don’t keep your lunch in that fridge.” Mason handing him the bag of biological agent sarcastically replied, “No sir, we don’t keep our ham salad in here—just weapons of mass destruction.”

  Holding up the bag in the light, Thomson smirked, “You double bagged it—good thinking Mason.”

  Mason grunted, “Just don’t expect me to bag your groceries later.”

  Thomson slightly chuckled, “Right”.

  Even though he was playing it cool, Mason was slightly amazed that he was getting along so well with Thomson. There were many other occasions in which he could have sworn that the General had it out for him. But now they were cutting up like old friends. Mason wasn’t sure what the winds of fate had in store for him, but for the moment he seemed to be riding high.

  As Mason pondered these happenings, General Thomson quietly turned the bag around in his hands as if he were some kind of expert pathologist examining a new specimen. In reality of course, Thomson new next to nothing about such things, but he seemed to be taking an active interest in the deadly pathogens all the same.

  Staring at the vials he quietly remarked, “It’s hard to believe that just one of these could have killed hundreds—truly frightening.”

  Placing the biohazard bag of Ebola in his briefcase, Thomson then abruptly got up and went to the door as he barked out to everyone assembled, “I’m going to have this processed in the lab, I’ll get back with you guys tomorrow.”

  Mason slightly annoyed by the abruptness, asked, “Is that it?”

  Thomson then turned and smiled, “Oh—and great job.”

  With that, he simply turned, and walked out. Leaving the Onyx team to wonder what it all might mean. Raina looked over to Mason with a knowing smile on her face as she silently mouthed the word, “Wow”.

  Marshal Oliver was happy too, as he announced, “This is probably the best you guys have done…” He laughed, “You have now officially moved from being the B-Team to a true A-Team.”

  This remark inspired Kyle to geekily reference the 1980’s TV show of the same name, as he commented, “Wow we’re the A-Team…” He then could help but offer up his best Mr. T impersonation, as he declared, “I pity the fool.”

  Kyle quickly realized that this wasn’t one of his comic con conventions however, and no one else either got the joke, or cared to respond to it, and left poor Kyle awkwardly hanging in a moment of silence, before Marshal Oliver finally brought the conversation forward with, “Uh—alright—um—anyway. As I was saying… I believe things are looking up from here.”

  APPROXIMATELY THREE HOURS LATER. “What?!?! Are you sure?!” Mason shouted into his phone. General Thomson repeating the words with dramatic monosyllabic emphasis, “Two… Dead…”

  As the words hit Mason like a ton of bricks, it seemed that the praise his team had been given just a few hours ago had been completely negated. Now instead of being heroes they were the jerks that bungled up a mission so bad that two lives were lost in the process. How did things go so horribly wrong?

  Mason was so frustrated that he barely even registered anything else Thomson was telling him. His mind was still on the body count, when he suddenly realized Thomson was ending the call, “Alright Mason—I’ve got to go. Report back to tomorrow.”

  Mason muttered, “Yes sir.” And hung up the phone.

  Mason stared off in space in silence for a moment before Raina questioned him, “Mason? What’s going on?”

  Mason sighed, “Although we stopped the bomb… enough of the agent was released to kill two people.”

  Mason then looked up at Raina and solemnly added, “We failed.”

  Kyle poking his head up from his laptop, swiveled around in the office chair he was sitting in and looking toward Mason muttered, “So much for being the A-team…”

  Raina was horrified at the news but she was quick to rationalize, “That’s terrible—but we didn’t fail. Even if two people died, think of the hundreds more we saved.”

  Mason shook his head, “It doesn’t matter, no one should have died. I had the power in my hands to stop the whole plot in its tracks and I screwed up.”

  Mason then added, “Even worse, the creeps behind this attack are still on the loose…”

  Prompting Kyle to inquire, “You are sure they were there in the first place?”

  Benton looked down at the ground as he remarked, “Yeah they were there—I had one of the guys in my sights myself. Threw a stun grenade at his ass, but that’s all I could do. From my vantage point in the crowd I couldn’t get anywhere near him.”

  Mathew Benton knew that it was hard to gain much traction at all in the chaotic crowd of the Little Italy Festival, but he still couldn’t help but feel like he had failed. Never before had his targets so easily slipped out of his grasp.

  Feeling the need to vindicate himself Benton spoke up, “Mason’s right—unless we take down this terror cell, the attacks are just going to keep coming. We have to get them in order to get to the bottom of this.”

  Raina looked to Benton and asked, “You’re not suggesting…?”

  Mason stood up, knowing that the only thing that would shake him out of his funk would be all-out action, telling them, “I know what I’m suggesting… I’m going to go in there and tear that place apart with my bare hands.”

  Raina knew of course that Mason was referring to the abandoned church the terrorists had camped out in and the thought of Mason bulldozing his way in there and possibly getting taken prisoner again—as had happened in the recent past, the thought of which made her sick to her stomach.

  And she told him as much, “Mason—don’t even think about going in there on your own. You need some backup.”

  Mason t
hen joked, “Backup? You mean like the SWAT team?”

  It was then Marshal Oliver that offered, “You know—that wouldn’t be a bad idea.”

  Benton turned to Oliver and asked, “Just what do you have in mind?”

  Marshal walked over to the table and sat down by Benton as he suggested, “Well it just so happens that I know some guys that work SWAT in NYC.”

  Mason raised an eyebrow, “Do you think you can hook us up?”

  Marshal lowered his gaze, “Well, considering the fact that two people are dead, due to compounds suspected of being manufactured by these perps, I think we have more than enough reason on our side…”

  Marshal then abruptly got up and started to walk out of the room as he announced, “Alright folks… I’ll make some calls…”

  JUST AFTER 3 AM, OUTSIDE SAINT MARK’S CHURCH. Mason, Chris and Benton are crammed in the back of a Fed EX Truck turned SWAT surveillance vehicle. Joining them are a group of six SWAT officers led by Captain Delgado of the NYPD. Mason is busy filling Captain Delgado in on a few last-minute details.

  He tells him, “There is a secret side entrance built into the church, and it will be the suspects most likely point of exit if things get hairy, so I suggest posting a few men by that exit while the rest of us pour in through the front of the building.”

  Captain Delgado questioned, “Right through the front of the church?”

  Mason confirmed, “Yeah.”

  Delgado thought about it a moment before remarking, “Look—I know it’s 3 in the morning right now, but is there any chance any civilians might be inside for—I don’t know—maybe a late-night prayer?”

  Mason laughed, “No—not in this place. Not a chance.”

  Mason then added, “In fact, when you first step into the foyer, you will probably think that the whole building is abandoned—but it is not.”

  Captain Delgado answered, “I see.”

  He then turned to his men and asked, “Alright guys, are you ready?”

  To which all of them replied to the man, “Yes sir.”

  Delgado then instructed them to split up, with three taking the exit door as Mason suggested, and the other three storming into the front of the building with Mason, Benton, Chris, and Captain Delgado himself. Once this was established, Delgado looked at Mason and informed him, “I’m ready whenever you are.”

  It was Benton who then spoke up, checking with Chris Bradley, “Hey—you got your smoke bombs and stun grenades?”

  Chris then opened the light jacket he was wearing and revealed four rows of smoke bombs and stun grenades attached to his person in holsters. Chris then zipped his jacket closed and answered with a smile, “Of course.”

  Mason looked at his watch, and remarked, “Okay—it’s 3 AM. Let’s try to be in and out of there by 3:15.”

  Delgado chuckled, “A ten-minute window huh? Wow—this is really going to be a quick snatch and grab.”

  Mason questioned, “You don’t think it’s feasible?”

  Delgado shrugged, “I’m sure we could do it.”

  Benton then slapped Mason on the back and offered, “Look if me and Mason here can sneak in and out of heavily fortified Al-Qaeda compounds in the mountains of Afghanistan in less than a minute—I believe storming through this old, rickety building in 10 minutes should be child’s play.”

  Delgado laughed, “Alright—I guess if you say it that way.”

  He then looked to Mason, “Alright—then what are we waiting for?” Mason nodded, “No time like the present—let’s go!”

  Delgado led his officers out first, crouching low lest they be seen. They also each employed a new ballistic shield that was actually capable of refracting light—what little there was in the dimly lit streets of NYC at this hour—making them semi-invisible in the process.

  Mason was always amazed at how rapidly technology kept right on advancing. He was a big sci-fi fan when he was a kid, and invisibility cloaks were the stuff of legend, but now they were damn near close to reality.

  With such measures of stealth on their side, as planned three went straight for the secret door in the side of the building, and the remaining three accompanied Mason Benton, Chris, and Delgado as they prepared an all-out assault of the compound.

  It may seem elementary, but the first thing the group did as they approached the front doors was to check and see if it was locked. There was no sense bringing out a battering ram—except maybe shock value—if the door was already wide open. And sure enough, when Mason tried the handle, he was able to fling it wide open.

  Inside all was dark, Mason wearing his optical glasses, switched to night vision as he led the group inside. As they stepped in Benton without the benefit of such tech, was fortunate if he could simply avoid colliding with a church pew. Navigating through the darkness, Benton asked, “What do you see Mason?”

  Mason answered, “Nothing so far—it still looks deserted.”

  Benton then remarked, “Yeah, but as we know—looks can be deceiving.”

  From the foyer, Mason then led the group on into the main sanctuary, Mason quickly reported, “All clear here too—in fact…”

  Mason trailed off; he knew something wasn’t right. The few chairs and tables that had been out were now suddenly missing, this place was even emptier than it was before. Without saying another word Mason led them through the sanctuary and on into the rectory.

  Mason expected a few of the terrorists to be holed up into this makeshift office, but when the SWAT officers kicked the door open with guns at the ready, they were once again greeted by silence. Mason shook his head in despair as he acknowledged, “They’re gone.”

  Benton looking around at the empty room asked, “What do you mean they’re gone? They were just here!”

  Mason shook his head, “It’s as if someone on the inside tipped them off that we were coming, that’s the only thing that can explain it.”

  Benton grimaced, “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

  Mason nodded, as he quietly spoke the name, “Fanelli…”

  Fanelli was the name of the General that had seemed suspiciously linked to the self-same terror group. Pretty shocking charges to make that a United States General would have his hands dirty with terrorists, but due to the circumstantial evidence that they had witnessed in the past, both Mason and Benton had come to that conclusion.

  There was just no way to currently prove it. And at the moment, stuck at another painful dead-end with no leads to follow, Mason had no choice but to call off the mission.

  Pointing at the bare wall in front of them, Mason turned to Delgado and rather bluntly informed him, “Sorry that I wasted your time and resources Captain, but this is officially a dead end.”

  Chapter 22: Mason out on a Limb and Justice out on the Lamb

  AT THE ONYX NYC COMMAND CENTER. As soon as Mason, Benton and Chris arrived back at their temporary New York headquarters, General Thomson was already there waiting on them. Seated at the head of their own table, he looked grim. Luke Simon seated next to him, looked even worse.

  Mason was close to Luke, and somehow, he could tell by his expression that he had some bad news that he really did not want to impart to him. It was only his obligation as team leader that kept him in place. And before they were even fully seated, he informed them in no uncertain terms, “Mason I’m sorry—but I’m going to have to shut this case down.”

  Mason nearly fell out of his chair as he shouted, “What?! But what about the terror cell?!”

  General Thomson nodded, “Oh—believe me. They will be thoroughly investigated and eventually hunted down. Just not by you guys.”

  Mason was instantly irate. Did they really deserve this snub? They had had come so close to breaking up the terror cell and now this? Luke knowing how upsetting the whole thing was to Mason attempted to ameliorate the tension by offering, “But—that doesn’t mean that you won’t be called upon further down the road…”

  But Thomson wouldn’t even allow this small bit of conso
lation, quickly rebuffing Luke, by saying, “Pending review that is… It’s all pending review.”

  Upon hearing this verbal door slamming in his face, Mason finally lost it, “Pending review? What the hell does that even mean?”

  Raina shocked that Mason lost his composure cautioned him, as she hissed “Mason!”

  Mason’s anger was like a freight train now though, and once off the rails, nothing could stop it. Mason demanded, “What about all the viruses? What about all the people who are going to be killed—is that pending review too?!”

  Luke really fearing Mason was digging himself into a hole, attempted to intervene, “Mason, come one man. Stop already. That’s enough.”

  Mason refused, “No Luke—I have a lot of respect for you. You know I do. But I can’t stand for this.” Mason slammed his fist on the table, “I’m not just going to sit back while lives are put in jeopardy because of mere personality differences on the job.”

  General Thomson laughed, “What? Personality differences? Is that what you think this is all about. Give me a break!”

  Mason nodded, “With all due respect sir, I’m pretty sure that I’ve rub you the wrong way since we first started working together.”

  Thomson not hiding his disdain, remarked in a low voice, “Oh—you could say that.”

  Mason then snapped, “Well guess what? The feeling is mutual!” Mason then glared at the General in what amounted to nothing short of unbridled rage, as he declared, “I’ve seen how you work with your clichés and circles in the Pentagon, and you know what? It disgusts me. It really does. Because while you play favorites people are out there dying!”

  Luke’s face was ashen as if her were in shock as he once again called for restraint, “Mason! Seriously that’s enough!”

  The General smirked and looked over to Luke, “That’s alright Luke, he can feel free to blow out as much hot air as he wants. Just be sure to let him know that Onyx is done for as far as I’m concerned. They are barred from this mission and all others until further notice.”