Another Way to Kill

by Brian Drake

  “That’s fine.” McConn took back the ID cards. He drove through and followed the access road to the front parking lot. The receptionist noted the names on their IDs, and they sat in the lobby to wait. The lobby was clean and quiet, gray tiled floor and gray walls. Glass doors divided the lobby from the heart of the offices.

  “Not even any outdated magazines to read,” McConn said.

  “Play Candy Crush on your phone like everybody else.”

  Presently a man in a blue suit, bald with white hair around his ears and a matching mustache, crossed the lobby to them. Dane and McConn stood up.

  Mark Hess introduced himself and apologized for the delay. “We’ve already had some Homeland guys come through here,” he said.

  “We’re from the local office,” Dane said. “More routine, I’m afraid. Gotta be done.”

  “Well, let’s get started. We have top-notch security here.”

  They moved outside and Hess gave an overview of the campus, how many buildings, employees. He pointed out that the armed guards were private contractors.

  “Why not federal cops?” McConn said.

  “Defense Department won’t supply them. Budget cuts.”

  “How are you fixed for communications?”

  “We have land lines, cellular backup and an underground generator to keep things going during a power failure.”

  “So that substation we passed—”

  “Is part of the power company. With us out in the boonies like this, they had to put it there.”

  Hess steered them toward the largest building on the campus. They crossed a wide courtyard of concrete with patches of green grass here and there. Security crews drove around in Ford SUVs.

  “This is where our directed-energy work is done,” Hess said. The guards in front wanted to see their identification. When the guards cleared them, Hess led Dane and McConn into a large open area, almost like a warehouse. Some cubicles sat in one corner, but most of the activity on the cold concrete floor was at a saucer-shaped cannon mounted atop a Hummer. Engineers hovered around referencing notes on clipboards while technicians fussed with the DEW itself.

  “There she is,” Hess said. “The prototype anyway. The XM-47.”

  “No test yard here?” Dane said.

  “We test off-site.” Hess called over one of the engineers. The thirtysomething man, clipboard tucked under his arm, looked sweaty. “This is Mike Watt, our lead engineer.”

  Dane and McConn shook hands with Watt. Hess asked Watt to explain some of the DEW functions, and Watt stuttered every few words. Hess dismissed Watt and called over a passing guard. The uniformed man wore a pistol, and Hess introduced him as Tommy Vu, the head of security. Vu described the duties of his men, adding that a full complement of twenty worked day and night. After a few minutes Vu carried on with his work and Hess escorted Dane and McConn back to the lobby.

  As they drove away, McConn said: “Blow the substation, the cell towers, the phone lines and that generator he’s so proud of, and you can have the run of the place.”

  “You’d need more than a handful of guys to take on that guard force, though.”

  “If they have the right experience and aren’t soft from all that standing around,” McConn said. “Don’t give them too much credit.”

  “What did you think of that Watt fellow?” Dane said.

  “He was sweating a lot.”

  “Seemed awfully nervous.”

  “Think we should pay him a visit?”

  “Won’t hurt,” Dane said.

  LEAD ENGINEER Mike Watt lived at the end of a quiet cul-de-sac, and McConn parked across the street from the single-level home. The sun had long gone down; evening was well underway. The driveway of Watt’s home was empty, but that didn’t last long. Watt slowed his Honda as he pulled up and exited the car with a cell phone to his ear. He did not notice Dane and McConn. Watt entered the house.

  “How do you want to handle this?”

  Dane tapped his lip and looked at the house. “I think—”

  Two gunshots cut him off.

  Dane and McConn bolted from the car and ran to the house. Dane tried the front door, which was locked. They ran around the front of the house to the fence, hopping over and banging the fence loudly as they climbed. As soon as Dane’s feet hit the dirt, an armed man ran across the backyard to the fence on the opposite side. Dane ordered him to stop as he drew the Detonics Scoremaster and sighted down the barrel. The running man fired. Dane and McConn hit the ground, Dane triggering two rounds in reply as the shooter vaulted over the fence. The neighbor’s dog started barking.

  “We gotta move!” McConn said. They hopped over the fence again and ran back to the rental, speeding away.

  “I think that’s our answer,” McConn said, his hands loose on the wheel as he steered through traffic. “Shoot the inside man before the strike.”

  Dane stowed the Detonics under his jacket. “It’s going to be a long night,” he said.

  MARCO CAVALLOS spread the hand-drawn map of the Hess plant on the hotel room table. Red and blue circles noted bomb targets; scribbled notes also dotted the paper.

  Roxana stood beside her husband. Two other men, Foster and Lenz, freelancers Cavallos had brought aboard for the job, stood on the other side of the table. Lenz had been the shooter at Mike Watt’s house.

  It wasn’t a long briefing, since the four had been planning over the previous few days. Roxana would blow the substation with four blocks of C-4. They’d have five minutes to get over the perimeter fence before the generator activated. Foster would take down the phone lines and cell tower. Cavallos and Lenz would take care of the generator, and then link up with Roxana and Foster on the east corner of the campus—near the building housing Hess’s DEW—and finish the job.

  Lenz spoke up after Cavallos had finished the review. “The two shooters at Watt’s house. Are they the ones Arkady warned about?”

  “Probably,” Cavallos said. “If they show up, we’ll deal with them then. I did not like Arkady dumping that on us when we don’t have the people to spare.”

  “And how will they get onto the property?” Roxana said.

  “Or engage us at the end,” Vargas said.

  “It’s not your problem,” Cavallos said. “Just watch your back and we’ll be fine. There’s only two of them. Let’s get our gear together and move out.”

  CAVALLOS AND Lenz took their positions. Clouds in the dark sky, the moon barely visible. Everything around them was dark. They hid in the brush about twenty-five yards from the Hess perimeter. They, like Foster and Roxana, were clad head to toe in black with black grease paint shading their faces. Armed with M-4 carbines with attached silencers, pistols and grenades, they waited on the hard-packed ground for the blast from the substation that would signal the start of the attack.

  ROXANA APPROACHED the substation on foot. She walked casually with a weighted pack on her back. There were no guards at the substation; in fact, the only security was a padlocked gate. Barbed wire topped the fence, but that was no concern.

  Roxana used a bolt cutter from the pack to snip a length of the chain-link fence that she then squeezed through, the pack catching momentarily. She pulled free and removed the pack. The racks of coils and transformers hummed a few feet above her, but Roxana’s attention was on the four metal cabinets on a flat concrete slab that kept the works going. At each cabinet, she placed a block of C-4 explosive with a remote-activated blasting cap. With the C-4 in place, she slipped through the fence and ran about 100 yards to take cover behind a pair of trees growing out of the ground in a V shape. A quick check of her watch showed her two minutes behind schedule. Oops. She pulled a detonator from her utility belt and pressed the button. The blast shook the ground even at her distance, and the flames lit up the night in a brief flare that faded quickly. Fire consumed what remained of the substation, the fallen racks of coils and transformers a flaming pile of junk.

  She left the tree and broke into another sprint for the Hess c
ampus not too far away.

  CAVALLOS DID not mind the two-minute delay. That sort of thing was normal.

  Cavallos and Lenz saw the flash of the substation explosion far off on their left. No words passed between them. They jumped from hiding and cleared the fence, Cavallos throwing a heavy blanket over the barbed wire, in seconds. The lights around the campus were out. Darkness covered the place. Cavallos and Lenz moved through the property using their night-vision goggles.

  The generator sat a few feet underground, accessed by recessed steps near the center of the campus. As Cavallos and Lenz approached, two armed guards were about to go down the steps. They stopped at the sight of the rushing new arrivals, and the silencer-fitted M-4s Cavallos and his partner carried spat slugs into the two guards before either could react.

  Lenz dropped to one knee as Cavallos relieved one of the dead men of the generator door key.

  Two more explosions flashed in the distance. The cell towers, gone blooey.

  The key turned in the lock, and Cavallos entered the generator room. Two power units sat in the small space. A block of C-4 at each, the remote blasting caps primed, and Cavallos climbed back to the surface. He and Lenz ran for cover as shouts from organizing guards came their way. The belowground blast, which created a dusty crater where the steps had been, drowned out the shouts. Cavallos and Lenz broke cover and headed for the east corner of the campus.

  TOMMY VU, the head of security at Hess Laboratories, hadn’t planned on his shift’s ending this way.

  When the lights went out, he’d been behind his desk sorting paperwork. No problem. The power went out once or twice a year. But the rumble of an explosion followed the blackout. Using his Maglite, he went out to the front of the security office.

  Two officers sat at a circular desk in front of a row of blank monitors. A radio set rested beside the bank of screens.

  “Sounded like a bomb,” one of the security men said.

  “Agreed,” Vu said. He picked up a walkie-talkie from one side of the desk. It worked on the cellular network. He keyed the Talk button. “Anybody see an explosion?”

  “It came from the area of the substation,” reported another guard. “Flames sky high.”

  “I want everybody on alert,” Vu said. “Full weapons, be ready—”

  Two more explosions. The walkie-talkie went dead in Vu’s hand.

  “Outside!” he shouted, using the Maglite on his belt to lead the way out of the office.

  The next explosion was the loudest. The building shook and knocked Vu off his feet. His men helped him up. He didn’t need to be told what had blown up. He turned to the man on his left.

  “We can’t call out. Get in your car and drive to police headquarters. Get them out here.”

  The security guard nodded and took off running.

  “We need to get to the armory,” Vu told the other man. The beam from his flashlight led the way.

  ROXANA NEARED the Hess complex, approaching from the front. She saw a car peel out of the parking lot and speed down the access road to the main road. She threw her M-4 to her shoulders and opened fire. The silenced weapon clicked as the action cycled and spent casings were ejected from the side. The slugs smashed into the side of the car, windows shattering, the driver letting out a scream as the bullets found flesh. The car careened off the access road, across the grass to the main road, where the tires screeched some more. The car collided with a tree trunk with a horrendous crash, metal screeching as it twisted with the impact and wrapped around the tree. Roxana reloaded and ran for the fence. She found where Cavallos had left the blanket over the barbed wire. She scaled the fence and dropped over the side.

  She stopped near a dark building and peered around the corner, the green glow of her night-vision goggles highlighting nearby security guards who were toting weapons similar to hers. No expense spared. The Hess guards were passing the building and spreading out on the orders of a squad leader. Four of them. Roxana swung her weapon around the corner. She fired two quick bursts. Two of the guards dropped, crying out. Their compatriots went down and rolled, one asking where the shots had come from. Roxana tracked the speaker, fired, missed. He fired back but randomly into the surrounding shadows. Roxana fired again. The salvo punched through the guard’s head. The last started to run, shouting for help. Roxana stroked the trigger once more and the shouting stopped. The last guard fell face-first onto the ground. She changed magazines and moved forward, her boots stomping on the dirt.

  The night vision offered no peripheral visibility—one of its drawbacks. A shout on her left made Roxana stop and turn. More guards yelled at her. She answered by emptying the magazine, spraying rounds, driving the troops to take cover. She reloaded on the run. Return fire zipped around her but they were firing into the dark. So far, she still had the advantage of being able to see them clearly.

  She passed the still-smoking crater where the generator had once stood. The smoke drifted across her face, irritating her nose.

  More shouting. She found cover behind a hedge and peeked through an opening. With no coms, Hess’s security force communicated verbally. Brief blasts of flashlights marked them. She listened to another squad leader give directions. She poked the muzzle of her weapon through the hedge and let loose two single shots. The leader did not fall, but he rolled for cover, blind return fire snapping through the night.

  She broke cover and ran again.

  When she reached the east corner, Cavallos, Lenz and Foster were waiting as planned. Her husband asked, “Have fun?”

  “They’re scattered and unorganized,” she said.

  “We’re running out of time.”

  Cavallos ran toward the test building.

  MCCONN SLOWED at the sight of the wrecked car with the dead man inside.

  “Hurry,” Dane said. The front building was in complete darkness, and no lights showed anywhere else that he could see from the road.

  McConn sped up, stopping at the gate.

  “No good government man would crash the gate,” he said, hopping out to manually push the gate open. He jumped back behind the wheel and flashed past the parking lot to the front steps.

  They ran up the steps to the front door. Dane tried the handle but it wouldn’t budge. He pounded several times.

  “We’ll have to hop the fence,” Dane said.

  “We’ll get blasted.”

  Somebody approached the door. A guard with a weapon. Dane flashed his DHS ID and shouted through the glass. “Homeland Security! We’re here to help!”

  The guard inside kept his submachine gun at his hip. “Stay back!”

  “Tom Vu knows us! Get Tom Vu!”

  The guard ran off. Dane turned to McConn. “Maybe jumping the fence isn’t a bad idea.”

  Single shots popped. One-sided firing.

  “They’re shooting at shadows,” McConn said.

  The front door opened as a breathless Tom Vu stuck his head out. He glanced at both Dane and McConn, said okay and let them in.

  “I sent one of my men for help,” Vu said.

  “They shot him off the road. We saw the wreck on the way in,” Dane said.

  “Then we need to handle this ourselves. Let’s get you two some weapons.”

  Presently Dane and McConn, with their issued semi-auto HK MP-5s, joined what remained of Vu’s force. They were spread out in a line near the back of the main building.

  “They’re going for the DEW,” Dane explained. “We need to secure the building.”

  “They’ve been picking us off,” Vu said. “We can’t hear them shooting, so they have silencers. Probably night vision. What do you suggest?”

  “Divide your men into three groups. We’ll converge on the test center on three sides.”

  “They’ll see us coming.”

  “I saw your SUVs earlier. Round them up so they face the building, and turn on the headlights.”

  Vu gave the orders. Dane and McConn accompanied him and four other men. They took the lead while the other
two squads ran for the SUVs. Dane’s team stayed low as they moved across the open area. It was like charging a machine gun nest in the open desert. Nowhere to hide. Moving shadows played tricks on their eyes but nobody fired.

  Dane looked ahead but the darkness never wavered. The moon’s glow failed to provide even a fraction of illumination. But then—

  “Stop,” Dane whispered. “Down.”

  Behind them, the SUVs drove into position. Headlights popped on and gave the courtyard some light, if only a little, as the beams couldn’t cross the entire distance. The light wasn’t to help the defenders see but to frustrate the night vision of the enemy.

  Right away rapid clicking echoed across the distance. Men started yelling, with single shots cracking in response. Some of the headlights burst as high-velocity slugs tore into them. Muzzle flashes on the left meant one of Vu’s teams had started returning fire. The remaining headlights created more shadows around the test building than any visible targets, but Dane ordered the team to shoot that way anyway.

  The HKs crackled as the team squeezed off short bursts.

  Enemy fire zipped overhead, audibly buzzing. Dane and McConn fired in a synchronized pattern. Left, right, center, the idea being that a steady stream would find a target. Vu’s men fired randomly. More headlights winked out and then there was darkness again.

  Dane yelled, “Forward!”

  He and McConn led the charge, with Vu and his men spreading out behind. One man screamed, then another. Dane leaped ahead and collided with a black-clad figure. He yanked off the man’s night-vision gear, and the man kneed Dane in the stomach. Dane rolled away, groaning. The man reached for his weapon, and McConn stitched six rapid rounds across his chest.

  Dane stood and grabbed the night-vision goggles. Vu called for his other teams to rally to them. Dane looked around. No other shooters in sight. He zeroed in on the test facility. One of the windows shattered outward and the snout of a silenced M-4 carbine filled the hole.

  “Everybody down!”