The Omega Project

by Ernest Dempsey

  There were no guards in the back and no signs of life inside, either. She knew that was part of the plan and gave no credence to it.

  She opened the back gate and walked across a segmented pathway made from concrete hexagons, climbed the short staircase to the back porch, and stopped at the rear door.

  Adriana didn’t bother to look up at the camera hanging from the exterior wall. She’d already seen it before opening the back gate. The men inside would know she was there. That was fine. They were going to know the second she knocked on the door.

  She looked in both directions with a sidelong glance, then rapped on the door with her right hand, holding the envelopes in the other. The letters rested on her fist, a delicate balancing act that covered up the small pulse pistol in her hand.

  The deadbolt inside the door slid from the receiver, and then the knob lock clicked. A second later, a man in a black windbreaker with a shaved head and dark eyebrows appeared. He had a stern look on his face, almost crotchety.

  “What’s going on?” he asked.

  “Mail,” Adriana said with a smile. She tried to keep it professional—but sort of flirty without overdoing it.

  “We don’t get mail here,” the guard said. His tone was overwhelmingly suspicious.

  “Oh?” Adriana twisted her head and looked down at the envelopes. “I’m so sorry. I have the wrong address. My mistake. You wouldn’t believe how often that happens to me in a given day.”

  The guard didn’t say anything. Instead, he started to close the door on her, but a thump from the gun in her hand sent a pellet straight to his neck. Instantly, the man started gyrating and convulsing. His eyes fixed on some far-off point in the sky as he collapsed to the deck with a thud.

  Adriana dropped the letters on his chest and stepped over the man’s body as he continued to shake. He’d be unconscious in a moment. The barbs in the pellet would deliver a chemical into his body that would keep him down for a couple of hours. When he woke, he’d be fine, although sore and probably with a headache.

  She aimed the weapon into the hallway and swept it to the left. There was a small bedroom in the back. The bed was neatly made and looked like it hadn’t been slept in. Either that or these military guys were fully entrenched into their systematic way of doing things, which included making the bed every morning.

  Adriana eased the door shut, leaving it cracked open in case she had to make a fast getaway.

  She kept her knees bent and crept down the hall on the edges of her boots. She heard movement upstairs. The ceiling creaked where someone was walking around or, as she suspected, shifting their position. It was the second guard. He wouldn’t take his eyes off the house across the street, not if he was as well trained as she believed, but he would certainly be curious as to who might have been knocking at the back door.

  Within ten seconds, he would probably start hailing his partner on their radios. After another ten seconds without a response, he would assume something was wrong, come out of the room with gun drawn, and find the source of the problem.

  That gave her less than twenty seconds to get up the stairs and neutralize the threat.

  She rounded the bottom of the banister and ascended quietly, using the edge of the steps to make sure the wood didn’t squeak or bend.

  Two steps from the top, the other guard called out. “Ricky? What’s going on down there?”

  Crap.

  She’d thought there was more time, at least another five seconds. This guy was apparently impatient. She knew he’d step out of the bedroom door in a moment, and she was exposed on the staircase, looking up to the open hallway that ran to the front of the house.

  There was a bathroom directly across from where she was standing. It was her only chance. She couldn’t make it back down the stairs fast enough to take cover on the main floor. The bathroom was closer, both to her current position and to the target.

  She hurriedly scaled the last couple of steps and then ducked into the bathroom just as the cracked bedroom door opened wide. Adriana pressed her right shoulder into the near wall between the sink and the doorframe. She was just out of sight from the guard’s vantage point, though anyone on the steps would have easily seen her. Lucky for her there weren’t any more security guards in the building.

  Footsteps clicked beyond the doorway. They were slow, methodical, laced with suspicion that she knew the man carried in his mind.

  “Ricky?” the voice called out again. “What’s going on down there? You on the toilet again?”

  Adriana pushed a little harder against the wall, doing her best to minimize her frame so the man would pass by without seeing her. Unfortunately, the drywall wasn’t nailed down as tightly as it should have been and produced a faint squeak from the pressure of her shoulder.

  She winced and clutched the pistol in both hands, ready to fire.

  The sound of movement ceased outside the bathroom door. There was only one conclusion. The guard had heard the wall squeak.

  She ducked down, crouching low to the floor just as a series of clicks erupted from the hallway outside. The wall over her head exploded in dust and debris as the guard fired five rounds. The suppressor attached to his weapon muted the sound of the weapon to be almost silent.

  Adriana leaned back against the wall, digging her shoulders in. As always, she didn’t panic. She’d lost that instinct long ago. It was trained out of her in the crucible of the school where she learned the deadly arts of the ninja.

  The guard outside the room stopped firing. She knew what was coming next. He’d poke his head in, leading with the gun. Adriana didn’t give him the chance.

  She swung around and kicked out her legs, driving her body backward across the floor as she raised the pulse pistol. The man in the black coat appeared and aimed his weapon at her.

  Adriana’s movement threw him off just enough to enable her to fire first. The first round missed his head by an inch, sticking to the wall just behind him. The second pellet, however, struck home right above his nose. Electricity coursed through his body. He managed to raise his gun and fire two more shots, but they were clumsy and poorly aimed. One bullet thumped harmlessly into the floor. The other shattered the bathroom tiles above the tub.

  She squeezed the trigger one more time, and a second pellet struck the guard in the collarbone. This one dropped him to his knees, and a moment later his face hit the floor with a smack near her feet. She kicked her legs two more times to push away from the man and then crawled up to a standing position, keeping her weapon aimed at him until all movement stopped.

  When he was still, she let out a few breaths of relief and then stepped over the body and back into the hall. She turned right and walked to the front of the house and went into the bedroom where she’d seen the men watching over the admiral’s home across the street. It was a risk to look out the window, but a quick glance told her what she had suspected. There were still two guards in front, one on the porch and one down on the sidewalk just beyond the gate. She afforded herself one more look in the cars surrounding the immediate area, just in case there were more agents waiting in vehicles, hiding out in case of an emergency. From what she could tell, there were none.

  That meant there were six guards to go, maybe two more inside, and two in the back.

  “Okay,” she said, “time to go.”

  Adriana hurried back down the stairs and out the back door. As she walked over the body of the guard on the deck, she bent down and scooped the earpiece out of his ear. Wouldn’t hurt to be in on the conversation.

  She cleaned off the tip with the cuff of her shirt and then planted the device in her ear. Then she picked up the envelopes and scurried down the steps, back down the street, and around the corner, slowing to a steady walk once more as she rounded the corner of the Main Street at the crosswalk.

  When the light turned red for the crossing traffic, the walk sign illuminated, and she strode deliberately across the street. She walked up the steps of the neighbor’s home two doors d
own, just to keep up appearances, then kept going until she arrived at the corner of the small fence surrounding the tiny front yard of Winters’s home.

  The guard standing on the path noticed her right away. She attempted to diffuse his alertness with a kind smile. He simply nodded and looked back out at the street, checking for signs of trouble.

  He touched his ear and heard the man’s voice as she watched his lips move.

  “Derek, how’s it looking over there?”

  Derek must have been the man she’d left upstairs in the bathroom. She didn’t respond, didn’t let on that she could hear anything he was saying.

  When she reached the front gate, she pulled up on the latch and started to go through, but the guard held up one hand, still pressing a finger to his ear.

  “Stay right there, ma’am.”

  She frowned. “I’m sorry. Do you live here?”

  He stumbled for the answer. “No, but it’s my job to protect the person who does. You can give that mail to me.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said in a sympathetic tone. “This is certified mail. I’m going to need a”—she stopped and held up the envelope, pretending to read it—“Mr. Winters to sign for this.”

  “Can’t allow that, ma’am. He’s given us permission to handle any incoming packages. Security reasons.”

  “What’s the issue, Rodgers?” The guard on the porch was approaching the top of the steps, looking curiously down at the situation unfolding on the lawn.

  “Mailman says Winters has to sign for something.”

  “First of all, I’m not a man,” Adriana said in the most indignant tone she could muster. It wasn’t hard. His comment actually did piss her off a little.

  The guy turned back to her, an uncomfortable look suddenly written all over his face. He was the type who wasn’t accustomed to being put into spots like this. Throw him into a ditch in Afghanistan and he’d do just fine, but with a humble postal worker he’d just insulted, not so much.

  “I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant, ma’am. You have to understand, though, we can’t allow you to hand-deliver that.”

  “Fine,” she said. “I’ll have to take it back to the main office. If he wants to come pick it up himself, he can. But I’m not permitted to give this to anyone other than the recipient named on this envelope.”

  “Now hold on just a second,” the second guard said. He was descending the steps now and had a brash scowl on his face. He was clearly the one in charge for this shift, and the fact she was willing to walk away and inconvenience his employer didn’t sit well.

  “We have permission to collect all incoming parcels. It’s our job to inspect everything before Winters gets it.”

  She stared at the man as he hit the pathway with his right foot and continued his approach. His right hand was extended, hoping to take the envelopes from her.

  “Now, if you need him to sign for it, I can take your pad in or whatever it is you use and have him sign it, but I can’t let you see him.”

  “This guy sounds important,” Adriana commented.

  “You could say that.” The guy in charge sounded cocky, as if guarding the admiral somehow made him more of a man.

  Adriana pretended to consider the guy’s offer. “I’m really not supposed to.”

  “It’ll be fine. Look, we’re all on the same team here. We all work for the government. I won’t tell anyone if you don’t. We’ll just take it in to him, let him sign off, and be done.”

  She swallowed as if her entire career in the postal service hinged on the decision. Then she relented, extending the envelopes out to the man in charge. He offered a consoling yet disdainful grin and then nodded. He turned around and started to walk back into the house.

  The other guard turned his head. “I’ll stay out here with her,” he said.

  Taking his eyes off her was his mistake, and she made him pay for it. In a flash, Adriana took the pistol out of her coat and fired a round into the side of the guard’s neck. He grimaced and grunted before falling to the ground. The other guy was too slow in reacting. By the time he turned to see what had happened, Adriana had already taken two big steps, closing the gap to mere feet. At point-blank range she had no problem hitting the side of his skull with one of the pellets.

  He, too, dropped to the ground, letters fluttering through the air like rectangular snowflakes.

  Adriana let the men lie there in the yard, shaking uncontrollably as she ascended the steps and kicked in the door.

  She swept her weapon to the right and drew the firearm from within the folds of her coat, just in case things got nastier.

  To her surprise, she found an older man sitting in a high-back leather chair near a fireplace to the right. He was sipping a glass of bourbon and had the newspaper folded across his lap. Her abrupt entrance clearly caught him off guard, and he nearly spilled his drink.

  “Who are you?” he asked.

  She slammed the door shut, locked the deadbolt, and stepped into the great room.

  “Admiral Winters?” She asked as she continued deeper into the home, keeping both weapons trained on the man’s chest.

  “What is this?” he asked, incensed at the intrusion. “What did you do to my guards?”

  “Shut up. I’ll ask the questions. Your guards are going to take a little nap. If you tell me the truth, you’ll be lucky to get off the way they did.” She wagged the pulse pistol in her right hand. “This one gives you a nap. This one…the nap is permanent. Got it?”

  His eyes were wide, full of confusion, but he nodded. The one thing he understood was the woman’s threat.

  “What do you want?” The admiral muttered as if holding the words back like wild horses, unwilling to let them go.

  “Where is John Dawkins?”

  The man’s brow furrowed. Deep wrinkles cut into his forehead just above his nose. Similar lines stretched across his cheekbones below the eyes. He offered a scoffing snort.

  “Dawkins? Haven’t you heard? John Dawkins was taken by Sean Wyatt. It’s all over the news.”

  Adriana raised the Springfield 9mm in her left hand. “I thought we had an understanding, Admiral. I guess I was incorrect. Now, I’m going to ask you one more time. If you try to lie to me again, I’m going to shoot you in the shoulder. The collarbone is a bad place to get shot. The rounds in this mag will shatter it and put you in more pain than you’ve ever imagined…until I shoot you in the knees. First, the right one, then the left.”

  “My guards in the back will be coming in any moment,” he sneered. “And if you fire that thing, they will charge in here and cut you down like an animal.”

  “I know about your guards in the back. They’re taking a little nap, too.”

  “Oh,” he said. “Well, then. I guess you got me.” He raised his free hand as well as the one holding the drink. A sly grin crossed his lips.

  Something was wrong. Why the expression like he’d just gotten the drop on her?

  A split second later, she realized the fatal mistake she’d made.

  In her rush to steal the postal uniform and take out the guards, including the ones across the street, she’d made the untypical mistake of forgetting there were two more in the house.

  She spun to her left as the butt of a pistol whipped across the side of her head. A dull pain accompanied the hard thud against her temple. She fought the overwhelming urge to vomit, pass out, and collapse, but the fight was one she couldn’t win.

  Adriana dropped to the floor on her side and closed her eyes. The last thing she saw spinning in her field of vision was Admiral Winters standing from his chair and taking another sip of whiskey as he looked down at her.

  42

  Astoria

  Sean stared into the man’s eyes as he slowly lowered his weapon to the floor. Sean knew the gunman was a federal agent. The government-issue jacket, the pistol, even the way the guy was standing there all reeked of US Department of Justice. There was no fear in the man’s eyes. And there was likewise an absence
of doubt as to what he would do if Sean tried anything brash.

  Tommy lowered his weapon as well, though he couldn’t take his eyes off the gun. It was aimed at Sean, but he got the distinct impression that the second he attempted to disarm the newcomer or take a shot, his friend would die and Tommy would immediately follow.

  Sean felt the weight of his gun leave his fingers, and he pulled his hand away, ever so carefully.

  “We don’t have the president,” Sean offered.

  “Shut up and step away from the weapon,” the agent ordered.

  “It’s the truth.”

  “I said shut up and step away from the weapon, or I will shoot you right here and now. Understood?” His voice thundered in the confined space, echoing off the hard concrete walls and reverberating back through the corridor seemingly three or four times.

  Sean tipped his head forward with a subtle nod and then shuffled backward.

  “You,” the agent said, nodding at Tommy, “kick yours over here.”

  Tommy didn’t hesitate. He pressed the tip of his boot against the gun and flicked it forward. The weapon slid across the floorboards, stopping with a clack against the wall near where the agent stood using the corner as cover.

  Once he was satisfied the two were disarmed, he stepped out from the corner and fully into view.

  “I’m agent Matthew Petty,” the stranger said. He pulled his jacket aside to show off a federal ID. “Where is the president?”

  Sean cast a questioning glance at Tommy, as if his friend might better know how to answer the query.

  Tommy had the same confusion in his eyes.

  “We don’t know,” Sean answered, turning back to Petty. “We’re trying to find him, too.”

  Petty tensed his grip on the weapon, doing it visibly so his two prisoners could see he wasn’t buying what they were selling.

  “I don’t have time for this,” said Petty. “Tell me where he is. Is he alive?”