Rogues of Overwatch
Page 35
Mark watched as Valerie’s hand walked its fingers across the countertop. Oliver stalked it, snapping his own fingers and humming the Addams’s Family theme song. On one set of snaps, the hand jumped up, slapped one cheek, and then the other in time to the beat. Mark chuckled and the hand dragged a bag of chips back to Valerie.
They had chosen to hide in an abandoned mechanic’s shop, part of a defunct franchise that Whyte had bought after it sank. The property had long been unused and made an excellent place to lie low. Mark had to contend with dust turning the green walls gray, spider webs in every corner, stiff backaches from sleeping on the hard floor, and waking up in the middle of the night to find spiders or insects at the foot of his blanket. At least it was roomier than the hotels.
However, the seven BEPs, crammed together with Emeryl and his twenty Overwatch mercenaries, made the place seem a little small. Thankfully, it was only for one night. They expected a call from Whyte anytime that morning to brief them about Heather.
Oliver sniffed the air. “Whoo, did someone have tacos last night? Oh,” he said, turning and smiling at Lionel, “it’s just you.” Then he sat beside Mark in the shop’s office and swatted the back of Anton’s head, who was leaning on a file cabinet behind them. “How’d Virginia go?”
Anton glared at him, rubbing the spot. “Fine. Couple of hostages died.”
“What about the Children of the New Age?”
He groaned. “Couldn’t plan an attack if their life depended on it.”
“Had to add a little power to it, eh?”
“That’s assuming they had anything to work with.” He passed a black box to Roy.
Whyte had sent the box with Roy. “Said it was supposed to help find Heather,” Roy told them. “Had his boys working on it for a while.” There was a zoom knob, a screen with a world map, and a couple of switch controls that moved the map around. There were a few other controls that Mark couldn’t identify.
Anton’s phone rang. “It’s Whyte.”
Everyone gathered around the office’s termite-eaten desk and pressed their heads together. Anton held the phone out. “We’re all here,” he said.
“Good. They’re moving out tomorrow morning and handing her off to the FBI near Appleton, Wisconsin.”
“What’s the plan?” Valerie asked.
“Find the convoy before it reaches the FBI or you’ll have a harder fight on your hands. Take Heather, kill everyone else, and make it look like a terrorist attack.”
“Then we act like we rescued Heather from terrorists,” Sheila said.
“Precisely,” Whyte said. “We’ll hand her over to the government and finish her later. It’s a win-win. We get Heather and show up the BEP Division. Make sure you do it fast. She’s already told them my name. Who knows what else she’ll say.”
“Got it,” Roy said. “About this thing you sent—”
“Ah, yes. Thanks to my contact in the BEP Division, we’ve constructed that crude device to track her. Get going to Appleton, and I’ll explain how it works on the way.”
“Everyone!” Sheila yelled at the mercenaries outside the office. “Load up!”
Oliver hustled Mark to the vehicles parked in the garage. Side by side were a line of two RVs and four Humvees, each freshly painted and brand new. To any eye, they were civilian vehicles, but Mark knew the truth. The RVs’ fake outside shells each hid an APC; the thick armor and mounted cannon of these armored personnel carriers were ready for combat. Dozens of weapons and enough ammunition to wage a small war were packed in each. On the inside of the Humvees were retractable machine gun turrets, currently lowered into the middle of the cars. This proved a tight fit for the passengers, but they managed. Mark was assigned to one Humvee with Oliver, Roy, Emeryl, and Valerie. He was glad to be away from Lionel for a little while.
Mark protested against driving, but Valerie pushed him into the seat. “Relax. You’ll do fine.”
“Yeah, you got this,” Roy said from the backseat. Mark sighed and grabbed the wheel. They took the lead of the convoy and pulled out of the mechanic’s shop.