by David Archer
Once again, the flight took almost three hours. They landed at Donovan field at just after lunchtime, but Noah didn’t want to wait. Arrangements were quickly made for troops to escort them out to the location Morris had given them, and they split into two cars. At Noah’s orders, Marco, Jenny, Smith and Graves rode in one, while Noah and Swaggart took the other. Litchfield was sent back to the operations center, on Swaggart’s orders.
"There's a squad of soldiers meeting us at the warehouse," Noah told Swaggart as he slid into the passenger seat of the car. "They’ll be waiting a couple of miles away for us to get there."
Noah turned the ignition on and put the car in gear, then looked at Swaggart as he drove away from the airfield. “This time, we need to surprise them better than we did before,” he said, and Swaggart chuckled.
"I’m not so sure about that," he said. "If these people are half as good and financed as I think they are, they will probably see us coming long before we get there."
Noah's mouth thinned. "Yeah, I'm aware of that. I just want to catch these guys and put a stop to this whole thing."
Swaggart nodded. "I understand that," he told the agent sincerely. "I can’t help wondering if we really have any idea how big this is."
Noah glanced at him. "Yeah? Well, why don't you clue me in a little?" he said, swerving into the next lane to cut in front of the car that had been beside them. “Because I’m really getting the feeling you know a lot more than you’re letting on.”
"I would if I could," Swaggart told him, not showing any signs of panic as the driver sped and swerved over the road. "But you are actually a lot better off by not knowing."
The two men sat and stared at each other for a moment, but then Noah looked back at the road and drove on without a word. Finally, he cleared his throat. "We're here."
A little frustrated, Swaggart rolled his eyes and got out of the car, heading straight for the lieutenant waiting by the nearby unmarked van. Noah followed moments later, not about to be left out of anything, while Smith and Marco shared a knowing look before getting out of the car with Jenny and Graves and heading over to the men.
"The building is just a mile down the road," the lieutenant told them, pointing to where he meant as a second soldier fitted them all out with radios. "Major Wilson has already moved a number of my men into strategic positions around the location, and they're ready to go."
"They got into place without tipping the people inside off?" Noah demanded, and the lieutenant stared at him.
"Of course, sir," the soldier answered. "My men are very good at what they do.”
Swaggart nodded, taking off his jacket before grabbing the bullet-proof vest one of the waiting soldiers handed him. He chucked his jacket into the back of the van. "Have any of your men spotted anything unusual?" he asked.
The lieutenant shook his head. "No, sir. But they haven't managed to get a good look. Major Wilson supplied us with blueprints of the building, so we know what we’re looking at inside." He glanced at Noah again, and the agent scowled at realizing that they were being careful in front of him. “There are three large rooms in the main section of the building, and we suspect those flying saucer things are in the biggest one. We aren’t certain what might be going on in the rest of the building, but infrared scans indicate that there are at least a couple of hundred people inside.”
Swaggart nodded and looked at Noah. "Ready to do this?"
Noah nodded. "I want Marco with you," he demanded, and after a moment Swaggart nodded. “Jenny and Sergeant Graves can come in once we have the place secured.”
"Fine. You've got Smith. Let's go."
He grabbed the offered rifle from a soldier handing weapons out, not surprised when Smith took a machine gun instead. Noah and Marco seemed content with their sidearms, and Swaggart wasn't about to push them on the matter.
Dividing into two teams, they took off down the road, splitting as they drew close to the building. The lieutenant who had been filling them in took Noah and Smith around the front, while Swaggart, followed himself by Marco, headed for the back of the building via a small alley, keeping pace easily with the other lieutenant and his team.
They were at the targeted building within seconds, and Swaggart nodded at the men waiting at a door and beneath windows. He paused, listening intently for any noise, before popping up to take a look through a small window.
He ducked back down again quickly, satisfied that at least they weren't about to run in on anyone's private business. What he had seen convinced him that they were in the right place.
He jogged over to the door, lifting the grenade launcher up to his shoulder before tapping his radio. "All teams go!"
* * *
Renée had been in hospitals before, and had naturally assumed that this one would be just like any other. She realized how wrong that assumption was the moment she stepped inside the tall, white building.
She didn't stop, and managed to retain her confident walk as she followed Sarah inside, but she still couldn't help but stare at everything out of the corner of her eye. There were people everywhere, even reception was busy, and most of them appeared to be overcome with symptoms she could only assume were far worse than they looked, because the doctors and nurses that she saw seemed frantically busy. The hospital was so busy, and she was starting to get an idea of just how populated this massive city was, but it was all a bit overwhelming for a former country girl.
In silence, she followed Sarah through to emergency, where they found a free nurse and asked after Caroline Lamphier, which was the name they had learned Lisa Branigan had been using. That nurse led them to a doctor who was busy on the phone.
Seeing them, he hung the phone back on the hook, sighing as Sarah flashed her badge.
"I'm guessing you're here about Caroline Lamphier," he told them tiredly. "I'm Doctor Garza."
"You are the one looking after her?" Renée asked, and Garza nodded.
"Until they get a free spot in surgery, I'm your guy."
Sarah frowned. "So I am assuming her wound is pretty serious?" she asked, looking around as she tried to find the woman.
"Serious enough to need surgery," Garza told them. "But it's not life-threatening at this moment. We managed to slow the bleeding and manage the pain, but she's not complaining much. I think she's just glad to be alive."
Renée’s eyebrows rose in surprise. "So she is awake?" she asked, looking around herself now.
Garza nodded. "Yeah, she woke up in the ambulance, or so I'm told. The paramedics said she was shocked to be waking up at all. She said she thought she was a dead woman the moment she opened the door."
Sarah nodded absent-mindedly. "We need to speak with her," she told him, making sure he knew there was an urgent need with her tone.
The doctor still balked. "I don't know, because she's been through a lot, and she still has to go into surgery—"
"Please," Renée broke in. "The matter is very important, but we will be gentle. If you like, you can come in with us yourself, just to make sure nothing goes wrong."
Garza sighed and shook his head. "Fine. If it's important, I guess, but I am going to come with you. She's over here."
They followed the doctor over, Renée ignoring Sarah’s glances. Clearly the other woman had wanted to speak with Lisa alone, but Renée had been fairly sure that would never have happened. If Garza was anything like most doctors she had known, then he would never have allowed it.
Garza pushed back the curtains, and the woman behind them jumped, her shaking hand going to her chest as if her heart had jumped with her. She seemed to struggle to calm down, forcing deep breaths, her face pale as she closed her eyes.
"Lisa Branigan?" Sarah asked, keeping her voice low and soft.
The woman opened her dark eyes. She hesitated only a moment before she nodded, her curly brown hair falling from her shoulders as her whole body shook. Sarah paused at the end of the bed, but Renée moved to Lisa’s bedside.
"I’m Sarah Wolf," Sarah
continued, gesturing at her partner. "This is Renée Turin. We’re with the FBI, and we need to ask you a few questions."
"About the men who tried to kill me?" Lisa asked in a small voice, looking down. She was clearly trying to avoid the bigger issue.
"Among other things," Renée said. "Mostly about Lieutenant William Belcher."
The woman flinched, and she shook her head. "I don't know…"
"We have proof, Lisa," Renée told her, cutting her off. "Photographs of you leaving the hotel the morning Lieutenant Belcher disappeared. The hotel manager described you as the one who checked out for Lieutenant Belcher."
Lisa slowly looked up, her eyes red. "They said I had to do it,” she said, obviously distraught. "They have my father, and they told me that they’ll kill him if I don’t do the things they want me to do."
"And what did they want you to do?" Sarah asked.
"Drug that guy, that soldier. So I did! It felt bad and horrible, and if my father knew, he would probably disown me, but I did it, because I didn't want my father to die."
She trailed off, lowering her head again, and Sarah exchanged a look with Renée. Garza remained a silent spectator, though his eyes were wide. He was probably wondering what was going on.
"Go ahead,” Sarah said, her eyes hard. “What else?”
"They didn't let him go. They said they had a few other jobs for me first. I had to help them get to three other men."
Sarah’s blood ran cold. Three more men subjected to what amounted to torture. "Who? Who else did you 'help them get to'?"
Lisa swallowed audibly. "Um, two other soldiers. Oh, God, what was his name?"
"You helped kidnap them and you don't know their names?" Sarah demanded coldly, earning a sharp look from both Renée and the doctor. Lisa’s head shot up.
"I tried to forget their names! And their faces. I know what I did was wrong, and I won't ever forget it! As much as I try, I won't. I realized that, just before going to see McRae, realized I couldn't, not even for my father. But they wouldn't let me back out! They said they would kill my dad if I didn't help them. What was I supposed to do?"
Sarah refused to answer, but Renée filled the gap. "Do you know the names of the three men?" she asked gently, and her voice seemed to calm Lisa down slightly.
"Uh, yeah. Um, Larry, no, Gary Mitchell, and Ronald—Ronald Dempsey. They were both soldiers. I think the third guy might have been some kind of intelligence officer."
"But you don't know his name?" Sarah asked.
Lisa shook her head, slowly. "No. They didn't tell me their names until they dropped me off at where I was supposed to pick them up. I hadn't met this third guy yet, that was supposed to happen soon. When those guys showed up, though, they said my services wouldn't be needed anymore, so they were going to kill me."
"Do you know anything about him? The intelligence officer?" Maybe they could find him and warn him before it was too late.
Eyeing Sarah, and then Renée, Lisa slowly nodded. "I picked up bits and pieces when they were taking me to see the third soldier. Um, he's a captain. He's someone pretty important, I guess. The guys in the car with me at the time said something about him playing some kind of computer game. I guess he was supposed to be trying to stop them, but they figured out who he was."
Renée went still. "What else did they say?" she asked.
Lisa flinched again. "I don't know! The guy in charge never spoke to me, but he was always there. He was talking to someone on the phone, something about—about an infection, or a disease, something like that. He said if they could prove it on this guy, then they would have less to worry about."
Renée took a deep breath, moving away from the bed and towards Sarah, pulling the other woman out of the small section.
"You need to get hold of Noah, now," Renée said.
"Why?" Sarah asked, looking back through the curtains at a distraught Lisa. "You know who she's talking about?"
Renée nodded. "I think it’s Captain Swaggart. He's an intelligence officer, he was playing that computer game with the other guys, the one they used for communication, and his mission was to stop these people. Sarah, it has to be him." She took out her own phone. “You call Noah,” she said. “I’ll try Carl Litchfield, maybe he can get hold of Swaggart in time.”
SIXTEEN
The soldiers burst through the door into the building, and almost immediately gunfire erupted. Swaggart had gotten a good look at the layout from his quick peek over the window sill, and he knew there were a lot of unpacked crates inside that could offer his men some level of protection.
He followed the next soldier in, raising his rifle and opening fire himself as he covered the soldier's run to behind one of the crates. Marco went next, opening fire with his pistol as he moved from the door to the stack of crates nearby. His pistol sounded strange in comparison to the rapid fire of the rifles and the loud chatter of Smith's machine gun coming from where they were breaking down the front of the warehouse.
Swaggart quickly ducked down beside Marco, grinning wildly at the man who was looking slightly pissed. Then he turned around and lifted the end of the rifle over the top of the crates, taking out two men before ducking back down with a frown.
There were too many shooting at them. And those men in white coats had large guns that they obviously knew how to use.
"Dammit!" he spat, breaking Marco's concentration enough to bring him back down behind the crates.
"What?" Marco demanded, speaking loudly over the gunfire. "What's the problem?"
Swaggart shook his head. "Something isn't right here. Those scientists aren't scientists, they're gunmen. Morris deliberately sent us here for some reason. What I can't figure out is why!"
Marco looked a little worried, but Swaggart ignored it as he took aim again, shooting three men in white coats as they tried aiming for him. He looked around quickly, seeing the door that must have led to the other rooms the lieutenant had been talking about, and the men trying to get through it.
Not thinking, Swaggart crouched back down and moved to the end of the crate stack, tapping the soldier sitting there on the shoulder. "Cover me!"
The soldier obliged, and Swaggart raced for the next stack of crates, moving himself closer to the door. He was a little surprised when someone followed him.
He turned around and found Marco inches from him. Scowling, he ignored it for a moment, getting to his knees and spraying the room from a new angle with the rifle's ammunition.
"What the hell are you doing?" he demanded as he ducked back down, away from the barrage the guards sent their way. Marco shook his head.
"You need someone to watch your back," Marco replied, but Swaggart got the picture. Noah wanted someone watching him, and not necessarily just his back. Shaking his head again, Swaggart pointed a finger at him, knowing this was no time to argue.
"Don't get yourself killed!" he ordered, shoving the man along to the end of their stack. If they could just get to the next one along, they should be able to get through the door without too much of a hassle like bullets and getting shot. "You go first, I'll cover you."
Marco nodded, getting ready. He raced across to the other stack before getting to his own, taller knees and opening fire, providing cover for Swaggart to slide across without so much as a single bullet coming his way.
That probably should have given him a clue that something was wrong, but at the time he was just glad he hadn't been shot, because he knew just how much that could hurt. He got to his knees, the rifle steady in his hands, and moved slowly across to the end of the crate, pushing Marco ahead of him.
The door was in sight, and Swaggart glanced at it as he pulled down, aware that he was running out of ammunition, and that he might need it for whatever lay behind the door he was aiming for. No doubt there were men in there, and if they hadn't come out at the sound of gunfire, then something was going on.
He moved around Marco and tapped him on the back. The man looked around, spotting the door and Swaggart's i
ntention, before nodding and moving back with him. With the crate giving some protection, Swaggart leaned low against the wall and reached up to grab the handle.
Again, no bullets came his way to blow his hand off, and he started to get the feeling that something was wrong. He felt the door click, and then he was pushing it open, storming through with the rifle up up, a roaring E & E agent at his side.
The men inside just grinned and brought up their own weapons.
Suddenly, time sped up and Swaggart could do nothing. He recognized the weapons immediately, groaning and going for the trigger on his rifle just as the door behind them slammed shut. But the men waiting for them were quicker, better prepared, and they pulled the triggers on their tasers.
Even as Swaggart let loose a few rounds from his rifle, the electrodes struck him and he went stiff, the electricity pounding through his system. He dropped the rifle, aware only that he had hit at least one man before he was falling helplessly to the ground, his teeth and hair and skin on edge, the pain blinding, his limbs rigid. The ground hit him and then all he saw was black.
* * *
The gunfire suddenly died down, and Noah stood up from behind the stack of crates, taking in the scene. Men were down and dying everywhere, and he cursed the loss of life, even as he stepped around the crates to move towards the suddenly surrendering men.
The soldiers with him stepped forward, beginning to arrest the men on their knees, kicking aside weapons before they even touched the would-be prisoners. Noah would have gone to help, but he suddenly heard his phone ring. Holstering his sidearm, he grabbed it from his pocket and answered it.
"This is Noah."
It was Sarah. "Please tell me Captain Swaggart is with you," she demanded, not even saving time for pleasantries.
"I'm sure he's around here somewhere," Noah said, looking around for the annoying captain. The man was nowhere to be found. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw someone handing a phone to Smith. "Why?"
"We just spoke to Lisa Branigan," Sarah told him, as Noah remembered seeing both Swaggart and Marco disappear into the back room just before the door had slammed shut. If they had gotten themselves shot, or worse, locked in, he was never going to let Swaggart live it down. He hoped that was all it was.
