Cal walked into a second room. On one wall was a bank of screens. A black leather couch faced the monitors and a mahogany bar lined one wall. Cal ignored this room too and led Ryan into the boardroom. Again, it was lavishly furnished, the table and chairs made from some black exotic timber, the carpet a dark red. Hundreds of law books filled bookshelves. Cal turned, hands clasped behind her back. “I need you to figure out how to get into the room behind these shelves.”
“Cal, what’s going on with you? Is it true?”
She pulled her lips tight then said, “All the time we’ve known each other, I’ve loved you. That’s never gone away.”
Ryan reached out to comfort his wife. He didn’t care if Offenheim’s words were true. She was still the woman he loved.
“Don’t,” Cal said. “Let me get this off my chest. I’ve wanted to tell you for years, but I couldn’t. I had to protect you and the kids. It’s true. My maiden name isn’t Price. It’s Prendergast.”
Ryan blinked. The admission hit him like a Mayweather jab. “Prendergast of OPIS?”
“Yes. Alastair Prendergast is my father.”
“What?” A sense of dread and confusion settled on Ryan; the same sensation he’d experienced on the motorway in Japan when he’d seen Cal again for the first time in three years. His thoughts became blurred as all his memories of his wife came at once. At their beach wedding, surrounded by friends and family; in the hospital, the look of shock on Cal’s face when the ultrasound revealed they were having twins; that time covered in mud, hiding in the Congolese jungle to protect a dozen children while militants searched for them; holding her as Liam’s coffin was lowered into the ground as his school choir sang. The memories flashed by like images in carnival mirrors.
“I don’t care what your name was, Cal. I only care about who you are now,” Ryan said. He grasped her shoulder.
Cal shrugged his hand away. “My early years were spent in poverty. Living on a council estate in Cardiff. My mother was a barmaid and sometime drug dealer. She would tell me stories about my father, but I always thought she was high. That was until he showed up and promised me everything I ever wanted, as long as I completed a difficult task.”
“Kill Offenheim?” Ryan said. He plonked down in one of the boardroom chairs, the weight of her lies sucker-punching his pride.
“Eventually, yes. But I was initially tasked with infiltrating one of the agencies. At ten years old, I was brought to America and adopted into the Price family to be brought up as their own.”
“And us? The children? Was that a lie too?”
“No.” Cal looked down at the floor, as if lost in thought. “That was unexpected. Meeting you and falling in love. Having the kids, a family.” She looked away. “My friends and I on the estate, we used to make up fairy tales. We were the princesses, going to be whisked away by a handsome prince. When Alastair turned up, I thought my fairy tale had come true. More so when I met you years later.” Cal let out a small laugh. It sounded forced with no trace of humor. “What a crock. I figured it out years ago. Only I can save myself. I don’t need some fairy tale. Maybe I realized it too late. Once I had infiltrated Offenheim, I decided to complete my task.”
“Your intention was to kill him all along.” Ryan shook his head at all the lies he’d been told.
“It’s better this way. Offenheim’s inner circle will scatter and the other families will scramble for power. LK3, Munroe, can swoop in and finish them off.”
“Maybe.” Ryan wasn’t sure of anything anymore. Had everything since that night in Tokyo been a clever gambit by Cal. By Yamada?
A robotic voice boomed from hidden speakers.
Eyrie base has been compromised. All personnel must evacuate via their designated route. Warning protocol three-six-six-six has been initiated. Destruction in T minus thirty minutes.
Eyrie base has…
The voice carried on, repeating through the message.
“A self-destruct?” Ryan said.
“Killian was telling the truth.” Cal shook her head in disbelief.
“How? For Pete’s sake, Cal.”
“Something he said to me one day about Offenheim being linked to the security system. If his heart stopped, everything would be wiped clean.” Cal pointed once again at the bookcase. “There’s a chance Offenheim has a hidden room in here. If we can get in and download any of the data off his servers, we can finish OPIS for good.”
“You’re still on our side?”
“Of course. I always have been.”
“I don’t know, Cal. First you disappear for three years. Then you return. Now you dump this bombshell on me.”
Ryan’s mind was spinning at the fact his wife was a Prendergast. Was she a triple agent? Spying on Offenheim for Prendergast, while doing the same for both LK3 and Yamada? Playing all of them off against each other? That’d be exhausting.
T minus twenty-eight minutes…
The temptation of the possible data on OPIS was alluring. Maybe they had saved North America, but a chance to save everyone was too good to pass up. A sudden thought popped into his head – a similar situation. Cal telling him for the first time about OPIS. The name had jingled a bell in his memory, an overheard conversation as he met with a politician. A passing phrase that had meant nothing to him then. “We all wear three masks. ReinCorp wears them all.” Now he understood, all these years later. The politician was the same one whose daughter The Nameless had rescued from the Amsterdam sex club.
Was everything in Ryan’s career a lie? “I’ll help you, but I want you to promise it’s to defeat the three remaining families,”
“Despite what you think, it always has been. Once I reached adulthood, I saw what a monster my father really was. I never wanted that. I always wanted you, Zanzi and Liam.”
Ryan sighed and stared at the books. “Fine. I suppose the room has scanners, keypads?”
“Yes. But Avondale has unlocked everything. We just need to find the door,” Cal said.
Ryan let his eyes wander over the leather-bound books. Law books full of case files. So-and-so v so-and-so. In the middle section were encyclopedias and world books. Books from scientific explorations, and first edition classic novels.
Alice in Wonderland.
20,000 Leagues under the Sea.
Animal Farm.
A low whistle escaped from Ryan’s lips. He pulled out a book, ignoring the robotic voice warning him he had twenty-six minutes to leave. His hand shook a little as he pulled out the first edition copy of The Hobbit, complete with dust jacket. He frowned when he spotted the red cover underneath. A fake? First editions should be a gray-green color. He lifted his eyes again and spied the children’s book Heidi. Was the latch for the door behind that?
Nothing.
Ryan slipped The Hobbit into his satchel. “The door mechanism must be somewhere else,” he said. He glanced around the boardroom and took a deep breath. He was finding it difficult to focus on anything. The last twenty-four hours had been some of the toughest in his life.
Ryan imagined himself as Offenheim, head of ReinCorp, sitting here in this boardroom and observing his employees. Everyone looking at him, waiting for his orders. But they were in The Eyrie, not a head office.
Ryan sat down at the head of the table. The seat itself was soft and made from leather. It had a high back, and flat armrests with buttons. He fiddled with the flap, which opened to reveal an ashtray. Out of everything he knew about Offenheim, this was perhaps the most out of place. He was all about a clean and healthy lifestyle. Flicking the lid, he prized it open and grinned when the tray lifted out and forward. There was a simple switch underneath. As soon as he pressed it, a panel popped open next to the bookshelves.
“You found it!” Cal said. She pressed Enter on the keypad, and another panel clicked and disappeared into the wall cavity.
“Avondale, we’re in. Can you do anything about the self-destruct?” Cal said.
“I’m trying. It’s on a different system. No
t even my admin privileges will let me access.”
“Keep at it.”
“Copy that.”
The room beyond was simple. Small, maybe sixteen square meters, with polished wooden floorboards and a plain wooden desk. In the center of the desk lay a book, bound in blue leather. It was thick, with gold-leafed edges. Two walls held banks of servers, blinking blue and red, while the other two walls were decorated like a memorial. One held a shrine, complete with a photograph of Offenheim’s parents and another, bigger, photograph of his mother. The resemblance was obvious. Candles surrounded this, the glass smudged from fingerprints and lips kissing it.
“What is this?” Ryan asked.
Cal shrugged. She was gawking at the large bank of servers, blinking with soft blue lights. She raised her radio. “Avondale?”
“I’m here.”
“What’s next?”
“Well… I’m not sure of his security…”
“Quickly. We have little time left.”
“Do you still have one of those USB sticks with the virus?”
“Yes.”
“Insert it. I’ll see if I can gain access remotely, like the other system.”
Cal jammed in her USB as Ryan began to flick through the leather-bound book. It contained a history of the Offenheim family, as well as a manifesto. Someone had spent considerable time compiling it. It also contained the family trees of OPIS. He eyes drifted over the page headed Prendergast. Under Alastair’s name were several lines, each leading to a different woman. All had the offspring’s name listed except one, with a question mark. In pencil, someone had written Calwyn. Ryan shut the book and placed it carefully in his rucksack.
“I’ve got access. Get out of there. I’ll download everything I can.” Avondale’s voice was distant but came through audible enough.
Cal turned and nodded at Ryan. As they left the hidden room, a bloodcurdling shriek echoed through the penthouse. Siphons, up here? That didn’t make sense. Surely all the Siphons had starved by now, like the feeble creatures they’d met on the hike here, barely alive and easily disposed of.
The shriek came again, louder this time. The sound of furniture being tossed aside followed. Ryan checked the magazine of his MP5. Ten rounds left. Not much, but better than nothing. Plus, his Glock was fully loaded. He did a quick inventory of his other weapons. Just his Ka-Bar. Another shriek, and the sound of pounding feet. Siphons flew into the boardroom at breakneck speed. They were naked, apart from tight spandex leggings. Two went left, two went right. The fifth and largest Siphon, a male, howled and beat his muscular chest like a silverback gorilla. There was no communication between them, but they seemed to act as a cohesive unit.
Ryan shot the middle Siphon with a burst to the head. Pop. Pop. Pop. The Siphon crumpled, and Ryan quickly switched his attention to the two on the left as they leaped across the table.
In battle, combatants make split-second judgments. Nano-second calls. Ryan made one now. In the time it took the quickest of the Siphons to make up the space between itself and Ryan, Ryan adjusted his aim slightly and killed the second Siphon. Then he fell back and brought his MP5 in front of his throat. He wasn’t quite fast enough. The Siphon slammed into him.
Hold onto your weapon, soldier.
That was all he could think of as his body smashed into leather chairs, sending them flying. The Siphon attacked with a flurry of kicks and punches, with a ferocity Ryan had never witnessed before.
Cal was faring no better. She jabbed the Siphon on top of her with a taser baton. Over and over she zapped it, but the shock had little to no effect.
Ryan grunted as he blocked another punch. He let go of his MP5 and threw a jab of his own. His fist connected with the Siphon’s chin, knocking it back and off him. Scrambling up, Ryan backed away and pulled his Ka-Bar free. Predictably, the Siphon attacked him immediately. Ryan moved toward it and ducked under a swinging arm. As he rose, he stabbed the Siphon just below the ear with all the strength he could muster, silencing the frenzied attack.
He stared at Cal, his breaths coming fast and shallow. “What the hell were those?”
“Killian’s doing, I’d say.”
“Killian? That name again.”
“Chief scientist.”
T minus fifteen minutes…
Ryan picked up his dropped MP5, and together he and Cal hustled out of the penthouse. The blood-curdling shrieks echoed through the building, reminding them they would have to fight their way out. He turned to his wife, a small smile on his lips.
“Never easy, is it?”
“Nope. But then, that wouldn’t be much fun.” She handed him a spare magazine and inserted a fresh one into her own weapon.
Forty
Ryan figured the architect of The Eyrie must have been on drugs when he designed it. There seemed to be no rhyme nor reason to the layout. Of course the penthouse was at the top, but it had no access to the roof. To get onto the roof so they could use the fire escape, he and Cal had to descend two floors. For some unknown reason, the elevator refused to go down past the second floor. No matter how many times Ryan pushed the button, it refused to budge. Siphons’ screams sounded from the hallway beyond the thick metal doors. The elevator had no maintenance panel. Through the doors was the only way out.
Ryan shook his head. “How many do you think?”
“Too many.”
“Anything about this Killian that could help us?”
“I didn’t have much to do with him, but he’s Offenheim’s second in command. Loved to run experiments. The children were his idea.”
“Do you think he’s responsible for the Siphons?”
“It’s a possibility. He’s dangerous, and we need to track him down next.”
Ryan let her words bounce around in his head. Not normally the kill-in-cold-blood type, his conscience was screaming, No! Then he thought of Booth lying crumpled on the roof. Of Lisa, her body riddled with bullets, lying amongst the satellite dishes. Of Allie, missing in action, presumed dead. Of the billions of lives lost around the world as they combusted. He gripped his weapon tighter.
“Agreed. We’ll track him down.”
He opened the elevator doors and scanned the corridor for threats. Siphons shrieked, and Ryan charged, dispensing them with little to no thought. He went into a kind of battle trance. Acquire target, shoot, move, reload. Cal mirrored his actions and led the way, jogging down the hallway and into the southern stairwell. Ryan glanced at his watch as the robotic voice came over the tannoy system.
Eight minutes…
Once they gained access to the roof, Ryan activated his comms.
“Avondale. Two for immediate extraction. Satellite field.”
“Chopper is twenty minutes out.”
“Can you stop the self-destruct?”
“Negative. Get out of there.”
Ryan cursed as he and Cal crouched beside Booth. As a rule, The Nameless always carried a body bag. In the twelve years they’d been together, they’d never had to use one. Now they had to use two: Booth and Lisa.
The next few minutes were surreal for Ryan. He rolled his best friend inside the heavy plastic bag and zipped it up. With little time left, he pushed Booth over the edge of the roof and sprinted down the stairs before hauling him into the satellite-dish field, away from the building. He and Cal knelt beside Booth and Lisa’s bodies and hugged.
T minus one minute…
“Zanzi, Sofia? Are you safe?”
There was a pause of white noise. “We’re here. On the trail,” Zanzi said.
“Keep moving.”
“Are you sa…”
The radio emitted an ear-piercing squelch. “Zanzi?”
The radio was dead. Exhaustion washed over Ryan as a dull thump sounded deep within The Eyrie, followed by several more muted explosions. Nothing like he had been expecting. Nothing loud and filled with fire. Like Offenheim, these explosions were precise. Next, the U-shaped building began to collapse on itself, the resulting roar ech
oing around the valley. First one end fell and then, like dominos, the rest followed until nothing was left except a pile of dust and rubble. Fountains of water gushed from broken pipes, electricity sparked, but there were no flames, no violent shockwaves.
Ryan sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly. They had done it. He hoped. Finished Offenheim, at least. Saved the Americas from his rule and stopped his plans of a utopia. His eyes rested on Booth and Lisa. “Was this all worth it?”
Cal screwed up her face, biting her lip. “I have to believe it was, or else their sacrifice means nothing.”
“We’ve just lost so much. Liam, Booth, Lisa. Billions of others. Innocent people.”
Cal didn’t reply. Her gaze was fixed to the west as a loud thumping reverberated around the mountain peaks. Ryan watched too. He frowned when he saw the double rotor Chinook. He’d been expecting another Black Hawk.
“Avondale. Did you send a Chin—” Ryan gasped as Cal ripped off his throat mic and tossed it to the ground. She had her Glock trained on him.
“Cal?”
The thumping grew louder.
“I’m sorry, Ryan.”
“For what?”
“I can’t disobey my father.”
Ryan inched his hand toward his Ka-Bar.
“Don’t,” Cal warned.
“Why?”
“I’m sorry,” Cal said, again ignoring his question. She jammed something cold against his chest and electricity surged through him. Ryan twisted, trying to get away, and Cal zapped him again.
Ryan stared into the morning sky, unable to move, eyes blinking. He strained to keep them open but couldn’t. Soldiers dragged him into a cavernous hold, and a female with red hair and the whitest teeth Ryan had ever seen stood over him.
“Goodnight,” she said, flashing a smile.
Ryan clenched his jaw as a cold liquid entered his veins. His last thought was of Cal, her blue eyes full of regret, and her words: “I can’t disobey my father.”
He blinked once more, and his world became darkness.
Masks of Ash Page 31
