by Blake Hudson
Knox turned back to the direction he was originally going, ready to carry on his search, only to be met by a dark figure of a man who fell into him, arms wrapped around Knox who took his weight as the man spoke.
“They’re all dead,” said the man, his voice sounding as if life was draining away from him with each word. Knox helped him to the floor and lay him down as his body became heavy and limp.
“Who did this?” Knox whispered into the man’s ear and the man’s only response was to grab hold of Knox’s clothes with a blood covered hand, his grip weak and trembling.
“Go,” he said on his last breath as his eyes glazed over and his body slumped into lifelessness. Knox took a moment and closed the eyelids of the man lay before him and recognised him as one of the guards who stood watch over Pérez when they first met. Christ, how did I not hear him? Knox thought to himself, shaking his head as he stood up. As he reached the open glass bi-fold doors leading onto the terrace, he found Pérez. He was sat at the far end of the terrace, with his back to the view and looking directly in Knox’s direction.
Surefooted as he scanned the open area, Knox made his way to Pérez as he walked past the inviting waters of the infinity pool. With every step closer, it became clear that Pérez was dead. His stillness and the way he was sat, made him look more like a garden statue he had commissioned of himself to fulfil his rich billionaire ego. The expression on Pérez's face, however, would not please his ego, a mix of shock and pain was a sight no one would wish to immortalise in stone. And then it was clear what had caused the pain. Carved deep into Pérez's flesh the word… ‘Retribution’ could be made out through the blood saturated sick artist’s skin canvas.
As Knox walked around Pérez, he saw the cause of Pérez’s death as the wound came into view. It spoke for itself and it screamed there is no coming back. The rear of Pérez’s head was gone, the exit of a large calibre bullet had taken the back of his skull with it. Pérez had sucked on the barrel of a gun in his last moments on earth.
“Lucas Knox! Don’t move!” Loud, deep, heavily accented voices called from the direction of the house. Knox turned slowly to face them. Five African mercenaries made their way towards him, AK47’s and Type 85 sub machine guns aimed right at him. But the leader in the middle stood out the most, holding the unmistakable Smith & Wesson .500 Magnum revolver. He was no doubt Pérez’s killer, Knox held his hands up.
“Drop your weapon, you are coming with us," the thick Sudanese man shouted as he pointed his ‘I have a small dick’ gun at Knox, turned on the fucking side like he was some dipshit gangster wannabe. But with no other choice, Knox tossed his gun behind a small garden wall to his side.
Then suddenly an intense buzz rasped as it cut through the air before the leader of the five men jerked backwards. A burst of blood and entrails exited out of his back and the entry hole soaked the front of his vest crimson. The crack of gun fire followed seconds later as it carried over the air from a distance. A second buzz and a second man fell, the other three looked at each other in pure shock and not knowing where to look, started firing their weapons at nothing.
Knox flung himself to the ground taking cover behind the small garden wall and picked up his gun. Three more deep shots echoed through the thick humid air, followed by stillness. Knox slowly lifted his head up as he looked down the muzzle of his gun, ready to take out any of the men left standing. Knox stood up. All five men were down on the ground, their guns still hot and smoking. One AK47 even sizzled as its owner's blood dripped through the heatshield handgrip onto the hot metal beneath.
Now, standing between the dead bodies, Knox looked out to the view as he focused on the church tower in the distance, the same one he had admired from Isabella’s balcony days before. He lifted his hand in a gesture of thanks, thanks he was giving to none other than Harris, setup in the church tower as a sniper. Both Harris and Knox were right to feel as though they were walking into a trap, but a trap setup by who, that was the question that burned on Knox’s mind now and he wanted it answered.
With no time to waste, Knox carried on and headed back into the house to look for Pérez’s office to retrieve the file. Maybe Gregory had already found it, but where was he? If the file didn’t exist, Howard was going to spill his guts or God help him there wouldn’t be much left to recognise him as a man, Knox thought as he walked past more dead bodies leading down a hallway. Knox saw the boot of a man’s leg twitch; the rest of his body was around a corner at the end of the hall. It was British army boot and the leg had British army fatigues, shit no. Knox sped up and rushed to the end of the hall, making sure it was clear first he then looked down, Gregory was bleeding out.
“Cap… sorry I…” Gregory tried to speak as blood pooled in his mouth.
"Don't speak…" Knox said as he looked Gregory over, he was cut up and bleeding badly from his left subclavian artery. Knox knew he wouldn't make it and he would be dead in seconds.
“It’s bad… I’m… not…” Gregory said as he faded away. Knox knelt at his side holding Gregory’s hand as he watched helplessly as the life drained away and the blood stopped flowing as his heart stopped. Knox shut his eyes and whispered a prayer, the same he did over Thomas and every fallen brother he served with.
“Remember, Lord, those who have died and have gone
before us marked with the sign of faith, especially those for
whom we now pray, Gregory. May he, and all who sleep
in faith, find in your presence light, happiness, and peace…”
Knox stood and tried to collect himself but he couldn’t, for he had…
snapped.
He holstered his gun and drew his knife in one slow and deadly move. Then he looked at the floor and saw a few blood droplets that must have dripped off Gregory's killer's blade, and as Knox started to walk in their direction he heard sounds coming from up the hallway. They were coming from Pérez's office. Knox made a beeline for the door. His walk turned to a jog, quickly building to running at full pelt. The office door was open enough for Knox to see a man stood over a desk.
Knox kicked open the door in mid stride, the tall slender mercenary still holding the knife covered in Gregory’s blood, turned in shock to the view of the mass of raging Scot coming at him. Knox launched himself, taking hold of the bastard as he took him with him clear over the desk. Knox got up and waited as he watched Gregory’s killer look up at him.
“Get the fuck up!” Knox bellowed as he used his knife to motion him up, the mercenary smiled as he stood and faced Knox. The mercenary toyed as he waved his arms around as if he was in a fucking Kung Fu movie! Knox stood still as he watched with a stare that would send chills down the spine of any cold-blooded serial killer. The man came at Knox, who reacted with a rib breaking kick as he distracted the attacker with his hand movements. The mercenary buckled over as he flew back, again Knox stood looking over him and waited for him to get up. The mercenary looked up at Knox, this time the smile was wiped from his face.
“Get up!” Knox growled, once more he motioned with his knife. This time there was no Kung Fu shit as Knox’s opponent now had a look in his eyes that almost matched Knox’s hatred for the man stood in front of him. The man started to move around and Knox matched him as they both circled, the mercenary flinched at Knox to see if he would jump. Knox didn’t flinch he just stared at his opponent, silently seething, and needing to see this guy’s blood spilling from his body and soon.
The killer lunged with his knife first and Knox sidestepped into the attack and grabbed the bastard’s wrist of his knife hand. Then he planted the elbow of his other arm into the face of the mercenary, splitting his lip open as the force knocked his lower teeth out and sent them down his throat. Still holding onto his wrist, Knox put his hand into a lock that made him drop the blade before pulling his arm up and around forcing him to turn his back on Knox. A swift sharp kick between his opponent’s legs with his steel toe cap boot making a perfect connection to send crippling p
ain like no other through the mercenary.
Knox again kicked out, this time into the back of his adversary sending him head first through the glass French double doors and out onto the terrace, a burst of glass framing his body as he went. Knox picked up the blade that killed Gregory off the floor and walked out onto the terrace. His hand gripped the handle of the blade hard enough to crack his knuckles, all the while focused on the sight of the mercenary trying to crawl away from him, terrified. He dragged himself on the broken glass as he shook his head to shake off the concussion, choking as he tried to cough up his own teeth.
But slowly, deadly, Knox walked up to him, knife in each hand so he sheathed his own…he only needed the one and it would be the one covered in his fallen teammate’s blood. The mercenary now crawled leaving a smear of his own blood as the shards of glass cut up his hands and knees as he desperately moved along the floor. Knox grabbed him and flung him over onto his back and then knelt with both his knees pinning the tops of the concussed man’s arms down as Knox faced him, looking down.
Taking hold of his head Knox looked him in the eyes as the mercenary pathetically wriggled and kicked his legs. Slowly Knox pushed the tip of the man’s own blade into his neck, his screams became torn and gargled before silence as his vocal cords were cut. Knox’s gaze never faltered from his opponent’s eyes. No, he watched him as he coughed and spluttered, waiting as the mercenary’s movements became less and less as the life drained away with his blood that flowed from the fuller grooves of the blade.
Knox then stood pulling the knife from the dead man's throat and swiftly plunged it into the lifeless heart of the killer lay before him without a shred of emotion. Then, with deadly calm, he simply walked back to the office as glass crushed under the soles of his boots.
Looking over Pérez’s desk at a load of files that the mercenary had dumped out from a filing cabinet, it was clear he was looking for the same file as Knox. This wasn’t the Cartel’s men that had killed Pérez, it was El Toro’s and he wanted the file that Howard was going to give him. Knox found it, the brown card file marked ‘NKM’. He opened it and what he saw made Knox’s knees weak and he stumbled back and slumped into the bottle green leather Chesterfield Partner desk chair.
“You have to be shitting me!” Knox said, eyes wide open in disbelief as he tried to process everything and then it all made sense and fit together. Knox rushed out of the office and as he passed Gregory, he lifted him up and put him over his shoulder, carrying him out of the mansion. As he passed Juan he looked down to see him clutching the silver cube lighter with the bullfighter engraving. Knox rolled his eyes and made his way to the Jag and put Gregory’s body on the back seat.
As Knox pulled out of the garage he stopped the car and again looked over to Juan, shook his head and gripped the steering wheel as if he was strangling the man’s neck who was responsible for all of this.
Knox looked briefly in the mirror and saw his fallen comrade resting eternally on the back seat.
“I will get him pal, don't you worry," Knox said with gritted teeth and quiet rage building, before planting his foot to the floor, sending the big British car’s wheels spinning down the driveway and tearing onto the main road. A mile down the road stood a dark menacing figure holding a large gun bag, it was Harris. If any locals saw him they would be feeling pity for the animals he was going to hunt, little did they know he had taken his trophies for the day. But the streets were dead and the sound of sirens could be heard coming up the valley.
“Captain," Harris said as normal in his cool calm manner as he got into the passenger side.
“We have to get back to T.I.7. Now!” Knox replied pulling away before Harris had fully shut the door, then he looked back to see Gregory on the back-seat face down and blood pooling onto the carpets of the Jag.
“Is he…?” Harris said as Knox answered him right away before he even finished.
“Yes, and we knew it would be a fucking trap! But we have bigger problems, look at that file!" Knox shouted as he sped down the mountain road, breaking the speed limit on every sign he passed. Harris picked up the file, opened it up and looked it over and he soon looked back over to Knox.
“Is this a for Goddamn real?” Harris said, stunned at what he saw and for the first time, showing Knox that he too could lose his cool.
“I wish it wasn’t, Sir… I wish it fucking wasn’t!" Knox replied just as stunned as Harris.
“I am calling in, Harris to NEST come in… Harris calling NEST come in?” Harris said repeatedly trying to get through to T.I.7’s mobile headquarters.
“Nothing… you don’t think?” Harris asked Knox.
“Yes, I do. We need to get there asap," Knox said as he looked at the clock.
“Olivia, Knox she is…” Harris said as Rose was his first thought.
“Don’t worry she was taking Dani to the airport, she shouldn’t be there. But I have no doubt T.I.7…
Has been compromised”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Burnt NEST
As they pulled off the main road onto the old tired industrial estate, thick black smoke could be seen, as it plumed into the air from behind the building. It was T.I.7’s building. Harris chambered his weapon and unbuckled his belt. The F-Space skidded to a halt as the door flung open, Knox and Harris exited the vehicle and took cover behind the doors as they scanned the main garage entrance to the makeshift command building.
The roller door was fully open, vision into the garage was hampered as it was in darkness. What they could see they didn’t like the implication of, as the back end of a Toyota Hilux pickup truck could be just made out inside the garage. Not one of T.I.7’s vehicles. Knox moved to the back of the Jag and opened the boot and pulled out two Black Hawk Strike tactical vests. He wasn’t taking any chances as he suited up and filled his pockets with ammo. He threw a vest to Harris who was holding cover and when Knox was ready he did the same for Harris.
“Going in, cover me,” Knox said before he zigzagged up to the garage door. A T.I.7 tech came into view sprawled out on the ground next to the Toyota. Bullet casings covered the floor, evidence that there had been one hell of a firefight. The shells were not T.I.7’s, they were the mercenaries. Harris joined up with Knox, he switched on a flash light attached to his HK G38 assault rifle. Knox looked at him and shook his head, the last thing they needed in the dark was the enemy seeing them coming. And nothing said, ‘here I am, shoot me' quite like a flashlight waving around in the dark. Knox would rather go into the dark with whatever vision his eyes could muster. It was surprising how much you could see when you gave your eyes time to adjust to the conditions.
“The circuit breakers are over here,” Harris said to Knox as he made his way over to the back of the garage, jumping up onto a work bench to reach the switches on the large boxes mounted on the walls. Harris was a braver man than Knox as he wouldn’t go near Spanish electrics.
Knox walked around the pickup truck, his eyes moving back and forth, monitoring the doorway that led into the main part of the building and looking inside the truck. The truck was loaded with a small arsenal of weapons and explosives in the back. Harris flipped the breakers and the lights came on. Harris looked to Knox pleased with himself before the power tripped again. Suddenly the side door into the main building kicked open and two men burst in firing shots off in all directions. Bullets sprayed all over the pickup as Knox ducked down for cover. Harris fired in the direction of the amateurish mercenaries as he dived down off the bench. Knox took five well-aimed shots as he lay down and fired under the truck taking their ankles and knees out before Harris ended their cries of pain, finishing them each with head shots.
“So far, what I have seen is they are relatively untrained, but keep sharp Captain, let’s not get complacent,” Harris said to him as he walked over to the dead men.
“Copy that, Major,” Knox said as he stood, back to the wall, ready to go through the doorway into the vast warehouse.
The same warehouse he first entered with a hood over his head and met Carter and his team for the first time.
“Three, two, one, go!” Knox counted down and entered first followed by Harris, sweeping off to the left and then right as they crossed the room. They both turned sharply in the direction of the sound of gunshots from the next unit. They focused their attention on moving to the NEST where the gunfire came from. Knox held up his fist signalling to stop as he dropped to one knee. Harris, without question, dropped down too. They waited as that gut feeling of Knox’s built up in his stomach and heartburn acid festered around his throat.
“Targets!” Knox shouted as he and Harris fired off multiple rounds as four men fought their way past each other seemingly in a rush to their own deaths. Moving in a tight, compact formation and with ruthless efficiency, Harris and Knox gunned them down. Knox moved forward as Harris held station and covered him. Once Knox reached the pile of warm bodies, he took a second to make sure they were neutralised before letting his weapon fall to his waist as it was strapped around his torso. He then dragged two of the bodies out from the doorway. Harris moved up to him with total focus on the door as Knox’s back was against the corrugated steel wall as he covered the area behind Harris.
