Brink of Extinction | Book 2 | Stay Alive

by Shupert, Derek

  “What’s that beeping noise?” I forced Andrès into the security room, then lowered the knife from his throat.

  Juan crawled across the floor to one of the small, black-task chairs facing us. “Sounds like one of the battery backups has failed.”

  Jackal pointed at the console with his rifle. “Show us where the plane is currently at?”

  Andrès wiped the blood running from his nose onto the sleeve of his shirt. Juan pulled himself up into the chair, panting. He spun around with his wounded leg sticking out straight, the heel of his shoe resting on the floor. His hands trembled, fingers slow to pound each key on the keyboard before him.

  “Faster,” I said, keeping Andrès close to me.

  “I’m working as fast as I can,” Juan shot back, his voice laced with venom. “It’s kind of hard to concentrate with being shot and all. Plus, I’ve only done this a handful of other times, so give me a second.”

  I glanced over my shoulder at the dark hallway, then craned my neck.

  “You got something?” Jackal asked.

  “Thought I heard movement. It’s nothing,” I replied. “How are we coming. I’m losing my patience and am about to start cleaving skin off.”

  Juan pounded the keys in frustration. “There. I think–I’ve got it.” He pointed at a red blinking dot overlaid on a map.

  “Where is that?” Jackal asked, inching closer to the screen. Andrès and I moved in for a closer look as well.

  Juan zoomed out. “That’s strange.”

  “What is?” I asked, looking down at him.

  “The plane is no longer moving from what I can tell. Looks like they stopped in Utah, near Salt Lake City. That’s the last known position of the aircraft,” Juan answered through strained breath.

  Jackal glanced at me. “You think they crashed or something?”

  “It’s possible, or some interference is blocking the signal like everything else,” I replied. Who knows? Either way, we need to find out for sure.”

  “If they crashed, then job completed,” Jackal shot back. “Is it necessary to track down wreckage?”

  I pointed at the screen with the tip of my dagger. “We need proof and that isn’t it. If we go back and tell Mr. Coleman that the job’s been completed and Lawson pops back up, our heads will be on the chopping blocks.”

  “Listen. I don’t know who hired you–or why you’re after Lawson, but it seems–that we’re after the same thing here.” Andrès tilted his head to the side while keeping his fingers pointed at the ceiling. “Like I said, I have money–and resources. Perhaps we could–work together on this. Find a mutual beneficial resolution for both–”

  The tip of my dagger plunged into Andrès’s throat, shutting him up. He gurgled on his blood, then dropped to the floor.

  Jackal placed a round in the back of Juan’s head. The sound of wet cement slapped against the console. His body draped over the control board—lifeless.

  I bent down and wiped the blood from the dagger on Andrès’s pants. “Thanks for the offer, but I think we’ll pass.”

  “Shit.” Jackal took a step closer to one of the surveillance monitors.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “More trouble.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  SCARFACE

  I stared at the security monitors, watching the small convoy of vehicles roll up alongside Andrès’s estate. Their headlights sliced through the darkness as they came to a skidding halt.

  “We don’t have time for this,” I said under my breath, agitated by the inconvenience of the backup forces arriving.

  Jackal ejected the magazine from the assault rifle he carried. “Not going to get too far on what I’ve got left. We need some more firepower.”

  I peered over my shoulder, then pointed at the gunmetal-gray, steel locker on the far wall. “See what’s in there. Could be a cache of weapons.”

  “Roger that.” Jackal turned and sprinted toward the cabinet. “It’s locked.”

  “Bust it off, then.” I skimmed over the monitors, watching the suits unload from the sedan.

  It looked to be Gao’s men, the Chinese mob boss we hit up in Chinatown earlier. He couldn’t have been there for us. He had to be coming to speak with Andrès, though, the drawn weapons they packed said they wouldn’t be doing much conversing.

  Their flashlights flickered to life as they spread out and converged on the house.

  I looked over the control board, searching for anything to log the last known position of the plane and my payday. The Maglite helped some, but I struggled to find anything of use.

  A loud clanging sound echoed in the room. Jackal rammed the buttstock of the rifle against the lock. It gave and fell to the floor.

  “Bingo.” Jackal clapped his hands, then rubbed them together. “They’ve got some goodies stocked in this cabinet. You got an exit for us or are we plowing the road?”

  I scrounged up a scrap piece of paper and a pen from the control board that Juan’s dead body laid on, and jotted down the coordinates and the city.

  “Talk to me,” Jackal said, his tone a bit louder.

  I searched the screens while pocketing the paper and flashlight, looking for a way out of the house with the least amount of resistance.

  The tip of my finger tapped the monitor. “Far side of the house near the exterior garage. We’ve got a Suburban and no activity that I can see on the cameras,” I answered. “Looks like Gao’s men are coming through the front entrance.”

  “How many?”

  “Enough to be a problem. Too dark to get a good headcount. We’ll need to go stealth mode. No lights.”

  Jackal removed a rifle from the hold, then whistled. “Here.” He tossed me the weapon.

  I snatched it out of the air, then secured my dagger in its sheath inside my tattered coat. I thumbed the Maglite off and shoved it into the pocket of my trousers.

  Jackal doled out a couple extra magazines and a Glock 17 from the small armory. He cycled a round, then turned toward the open door of the security room. He thumbed his flashlight off, then asked, “You ready?”

  I pocketed the extra mags and chambered a round. “Let’s get out of here and back on to business.”

  Jackal shouldered the rifle and made for the door. He swept the area quickly, then ventured out into the dull murk of the hallway.

  In the distance, muttered voices loomed from the interior of the expansive home. Footfalls rapped against the marble floor. We moved as one, sweeping the dark halls for any inbound shooters.

  We hit a blind corner and stopped.

  Light probed from the adjoining hallway. The tip of a dress shoe stepped out from around the bend, followed by the barrel of an Uzi.

  Jackal held firm, waiting for the shooter to present himself. The tailored suit emerged from the blind corner, offering Jackal a clean shot at the side of his head.

  Jackal squeezed the trigger, placing a single round in the side of the man’s skull before he could react. The report echoed down the hall, and back in what seemed a never-ending loop.

  The tailored suit dropped the flashlight, then collapsed to the floor. The light clanged off the marble, then rolled on its side. Angered Chinese voices and shouting echoed through the halls of the sprawling house.

  I tapped Jackal on the shoulder. He leaned forward, peered around the corner of the hallway, and checked the corridor for any movement.

  “We’re clear.” Jackal stepped over the dead body with me in tow. We moved at a good clip, staying close to the walls and concealed within the darkness of the hallway.

  I checked our backs, sweeping the hallway for any shooters looking to clip us as we made our getaway.

  Beams of light traced along the floor toward our position, highlighting a small portion of Jackal’s body. The hammering of gunfire erupted from the blackness before us. We sunk into the wall, scooted past a closed door, and took cover behind a large pillar.

  “How much farther we got?” Jackal asked, shouting over the cacopho
ny of gunfire.

  The swarm of incoming rounds punished the pillar. Fragments rained to the marble floor.

  “Far enough for it to be a bitch to get to in the dark,” I replied. “Doesn’t matter, though. We have to get out of here and to the airport now, or we can kiss our payday and lives, goodbye.”

  “Cover your ears and close your eyes.” Jackal dug his hand into the pocket of his coat, fishing out some sort of black cylinder. He waited for the gunfire to ebb, pulled the pin, then tossed it down the hallway.

  The canister clanged off the marble floor and tumbled toward Gao’s men who surged up the corridor. A loud explosion sounded, followed by a blinding light.

  The inbound shooters stopped dead in their tracks–footfalls silenced.

  I waited a few seconds, then cracked open both lids.

  Gao’s men staggered about, dazed and confused. Their weapons and flashlights lowered, giving us our chance to move.

  Jackal swung out from the pillar with his rifle at the ready. I followed at his side. We mowed down the disoriented men with tactical precision.

  Body after body crumpled to the floor. Screams of agony fled their lips before falling silent. We placed additional rounds into each shooter that twitched and moaned from the flats of their backs.

  We moved up the hallway side by side while we searched for a way out of the house. I spotted a set of glass double doors a few paces ahead of us. “There. We can— Watch out.”

  A set of lights rounded the corner, then gunshots erupted from the darkness.

  I shoved Jackal toward the glass doors, then rolled to the side against the far wall. The incoming rounds looked like fireflies buzzing through the air. I held fast, waiting for Gao’s men to reload.

  Jackal tested the doorknob, then rammed his foot in the center of the doors. They buckled, then swung outward.

  A rush of cool wind breached the house, followed by a high-pitched howl. He craned his neck and skimmed over the outside of the home with his rifle.

  Bullets punched the wall near the narrow gap I hid behind. A stray round caught the outer edge of my coat. I tucked my arm into my side. More hammered the wall near me, drawing closer.

  Jackal motioned with his fingers, pointing at me, then nodding at the door. He leaned out from the concealment of the wall and returned fire.

  I ran across the wide corridor firing blindly. Bullets zipped by me, grazing past the top of my bald scalp. I dove through the opened doorway and down the few steps.

  The stone patio cushioned my fall as I tumbled end over end. My head caught a sharp edge of rock, taking a small slice of flesh from my scalp.

  Jackal retreated down the stairs, unloading the magazine until it clicked empty. “You good?”

  The gash on my head stung, but I ignored the bite of the cut. “Yeah.” I got to my feet and moved toward the garage.

  Jackal ejected the magazine, discarding it to the ground. He pushed in a fresh one, slapped the side of the rifle, then cycled a round.

  I shouldered mine and traversed the few steps down to the driveway. The area looked clear—free of any shadowy figures or beams of lights tracking through the shrubs or trees that covered the lawn.

  Jackal turned, ran across the patio, then down the steps after me.

  I tested the driver’s side door. It opened with ease. I slipped inside the plush driver’s seat, then looked for the keys.

  Jackal stopped, turned toward the house, then dropped to one knee. He fired at the beams of light that stormed from the open door.

  The men scattered like roaches, taking cover wherever they could.

  The interior light of the large SUV illuminated the dash and black-leather seats. I searched for the keys, checking every nook and cranny.

  Incoming rounds pelted the side of the Suburban and the driver’s side door. I flinched, ducked, and slammed the door closed.

  Jackal retreated, darting around the front end to the far side of the truck.

  I grabbed the visor and pulled down. The keys dropped into my lap. I slipped them inside the ignition, then turned the engine over. It roared to life.

  Fire spat from the muzzle of Jackal’s rifle.

  White flashes lit the scowl on his face as he fired from across the hood of the SUV. Spent casings pinged off the vehicle like coins in a slot machine.

  I thumbed the switch to the headlights, then pounded my fist on the dash.

  Jackal ceased fire, then opened the passenger side door. He hopped up inside the cab and slammed his door shut. “Anytime now would be good.”

  “Waiting on you,” I shot back. I grabbed the gear shift on the steering column and jerked it into drive.

  The back window exploded, sending shards of busted glass into the Suburban. I punched the gas, throwing the SUV into reverse toward the gate. A dull thud slammed into the rear hatch, followed by a faint scream.

  My foot mashed the pedal to the floor as we plowed through the partially open gate. The SUV shuddered as it knocked the gate off the railing.

  A barrage of gunfire pelted the hood, trailing toward the windshield. Bullets punched through glass, zipping past us.

  Jackal lowered the passenger side window, leaned out, and returned fire. The rifle barked as we flew down to the street.

  I cut the wheel clockwise, skimming past the back bumper of the sedan. “Hold on.” I spun the wheel, then slammed the brakes.

  Jackal held firm, rocking back and forth. He leaned on the window and continued to fire at the men charging down the winding driveway.

  “I’m out.” He slipped back into the passenger seat.

  I hit the gas, spinning the rear tires. The SUV tore down the road.

  I checked the side-view mirror, watching what men remained rush out into the road. A few rounds popped off before they ceased fire.

  Jackal ejected the spent mag and fished another one from his coat. He slapped it in and cycled a round. “Are we heading to the airport now?”

  I nodded. “Yeah. It’s time to get back on the hunt.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  SCARFACE

  The Suburban tore down the highway at full tilt. Wind blew through the gaping hole in the back window, funneling the cool air inside the SUV and chilling me to the marrow.

  “Christ. Is it getting colder?” Jackal shivered, then cupped his hands. He blew onto them, then rubbed them together. “I didn’t think it ever got cold in California—one of the many reasons I enjoy coming here. Well, use to enjoy coming here.”

  The digital read out on the SUV’s instrument panel read forty-five.

  “I don’t know. Maybe a little.” I pointed at the large dial on the dash. “Kick the heater on if you want.”

  “Aren’t you cold?” Jackal asked, reaching for the dial on the dash. He twisted it to the red, then turned it on. Cool air blew from the vents, then changed to a warm, steady heat wave that lessened the bite of the chilled air.

  “It’s not that bad, but I manage it much better than you,” I answered. “You always complain when we do jobs in cooler climates.”

  The rifle fixed between his legs fell against the dash. He grabbed the muzzle, then leaned it against the center console.

  “I like my warmer weather, all right,” he shot back. “Me and the cold don’t mix well. Never have. I operate better when the sun’s shinning and the heat is on. My fingers don’t ache as much and are steadier on the trigger.”

  “Adapt or die, my friend. You don’t always get what you want.”

  “Isn’t that the truth.”

  I checked the side-view mirror for any vehicles in tow. We’d given Gao’s men the slip when leaving the city. It seemed like they hadn’t picked up our trail.

  “So, what’s our plan here?” Jackal asked. “Hop into Mr. Coleman’s plane and fly around looking for the wreckage in the dark? That’s going to be hard to do and a time suck.”

  “We’ve got the last coordinates of the plane. We get in the air and we’ll figure the rest out later. I want to wrap up thi
s job fast. It’s taking too long and costing us money on other jobs we have pending,” I answered.

  Jackal nodded. “Yeah, yeah. I know. You hate when your schedule gets messed with.”

  “Time is money. That hasn’t changed. You know this.” I hooked around the sharp curve from the highway without slowing. The tires squealed, fighting to keep the bulky SUV on the pavement and out of the dirt. “Every second we waste on this job is money lost on another. We’re already behind schedule.”

  Jackal grabbed the bar in the corner mounted to the frame of the Suburban. “Perhaps we didn’t receive all of the intel on Lawson. He’s proving to be a harder mark than Mr. Coleman told us he would be.”

  We drove the narrow two-lane highway for about a mile, then turned off onto a rocky road toward the small airstrip where Rhys’s plane waited for us.

  “I don’t think he withheld any intel, not that it really matters,” I replied, pushing the SUV past one hundred miles per hour. “We’re given whatever the client offers and work off that. This isn’t any different. Lawson is just like any other mark we’ve gone after except for the whole earthquake and tsunami hitting. He’s gotten lucky. That will run out soon. Trust me.”

  Jackal shrugged. “If you say so. I’ll believe it once we have him, or his head, in our possession.”

  “Soon enough.”

  The headlights of the SUV sliced through the dull, hazy murk of the night sky as we crested the hill and down the other side. We slipped through the open gate that had barbwire coiled around its top.

  A large, rusted, red-and-white sign hung cockeyed from the diamond steel fence with Private Property–No Trespassing etched on the front.

  “You know, for as much money as Mr. Coleman has, you’d think he’d have a nicer place to keep his plane than this.” Jackal sounded unimpressed by the meager landing strip and two steel buildings that resided on the property.

  “As long as we can take off and land without dying, then, I’m good with whatever,” I quipped.

  “Agreed on both accounts,” Jackal replied, nodding.