“I don’t know who you guys are, but these aren’t the kind of people you want to be messing with.” He fumbled the keys in his hand, almost dropping them.
“Actually, yeah, we do want to mess with these people,” John said. “Quit stalling and get us in there.”
His hands shook, struggling to insert the key. Getting into the secure area of the building was only the first part of the plan.
John knew they were already one step behind. He would need this man’s help to find Blythe before the security team could get him out. Only the vague hint of bodily harm kept this guard motivated to provide assistance.
But the man’s body language told John that it wasn’t the future of his career that this man was concerned with. He had real fear of someone inside the building.
At an intersection, John clamped a mitt around the back of his hostage’s neck. “Which way to get to Owen Blythe?” He gave it an extra squeeze, letting the man know there would be no forgiveness for betraying them.
“Right. Ow, right, right.” The guard hunched his shoulders and pointed down the shorter hallway. “He’s in the main security control room.”
John eased the pressure and led the group to the right. The hall that greeted them had two pairs of doors on opposing walls.
“Keep moving.” John pushed the man ahead, easing the pressure on his grip.
Halfway down the hall, another guard rounded the corner. He looked up and nodded at his buddy, but the spark of recognition faded fast when he noticed the frightened look in the other man’s eyes and the three strangers behind him.
The guard reached for his submachine gun. John pushed the hostage face first against the wall as his hand dropped to the Colt 1911 in his holster. Chance had his Beretta out before anyone else had their weapons ready.
“Detroit PD. Hands up,” he said.
John had his pistol pointed as Roland braced his weapon against his shoulder.
The guard had his MP5 tucked against his body. Even outgunned, John could see the burning defiance in the man’s eyes.
“This isn’t your jurisdiction, pig,” the guard said.
John’s Jaw muscles tightened as his finger pressed into the face of the trigger. With the hammer back, it would only take four pounds of pressure to punch a hole into his target’s chest.
“Blake, please drop your gun,” the other guard said, his words distorted by the wall mashing into his face. “I don’t want to die.”
The tense standoff drew out for another few heartbeats. Finally, the other man let the weapon hang from its sling as he brought his hands up to shoulder height.
Chance moved ahead, pulling a pair of handcuffs from his belt.
“We’re all dead anyway,” the guard said. “Once Hawke gets here, he’s going to put a bullet in our heads for letting these guys in.”
“Who’s Hawke?” John asked.
Chance pulled the sling for the man’s weapon over his own shoulder before securing his hands behind his back. He kicked the guard’s feet out, pressing his chest against the wall.
“He works for INSEC. Captain Donovan Hawke,” Roland said. “If his strike team is here, we’re in big trouble.”
* * *
Reading, Pennsylvania
Millie pressed her body against a column set into the wall, listening as the guard stuffed the keys back into his pocket as he reached a set of double doors at the end of the hall. Like the doors downstairs, this one required a keycard to open them.
Millie needed to get in the room and didn’t have time to wait. She weighed her options, thinking about the stealthiest approach. Her eyes drifted upward to the acoustic tiles. The drop ceiling had a large hollow area above, for all of the building's wiring and ducts.
She took three short steps and leaped, kicking off the side of the column. Her hands poked through the tile, forcing it upward. Millie pulled her body up, nudging the textured panel to the side.
She propped herself onto a support beam and settled the tile back into place. Listening for any activity, she pulled a small flashlight and looked over her notes, memorizing precisely what Parker would need.
Any and all files mentioning Vincent Treadwell and the Silver Creek privatized prison was first on her list. The rest had been listed as optional, but she ran her thumb along the name INSEC.
The guard below her exited the room and moved down the hall. Millie lifted the panel enough to watch as he turned the corner. She dropped down with the stolen keycard in her hand, swiping it the instant her feet made contact with the low pile carpet.
She turned to look around inside the room. Jackpot. Someone had been gathering up all of the critical files, organized into boxes stamped with company logos. Most had the CARR Group insignia, but the few with the International Security brand stood out in stark contrast.
She shrugged the backpack off and started her search. Millie had to set aside her personal feelings. She wanted to take down the people in her past that ruined her life. A group known as The Order, led by a woman named Rebecca Flair.
The only connection Millie had was the vague link to INSEC. But if taking down the CARR Group could help in that regard, Millie might possibly be able to bank the favor and call on this Parker guy to help when she made her move against The Order.
She found the files on Treadwell and took what she needed, zipping the backpack closed and pulling the straps over her shoulders. This was a far more complicated web than she realized. Too many influential people ruining countless lives. Millie realized now that a group with the connections that Parker had could prove invaluable.
She exited the room and turned to leave when a gruff voice grew in volume. The shuffling footsteps of at least two men approached. Millie jumped up, pushing off the door handle with her foot. She pulled her body back up into the suspended ceiling, lowering the tile as the men turned the corner.
She could make out two distinct voices, but it sounded like three men walking toward her. Millie moved along the support anchor to the wall, passing the men below as they went inside.
Millie cursed under her breath. She hadn’t put the boxes back the way she had found them. It wouldn’t take the men long to realize someone had been snooping around. Flipping one of the tiles over, she dropped into the hall and sprinted around the corner. The door behind her burst open as the men ran out.
“The ceiling,” the gruff man shouted. “Someone was here.”
Millie fumbled with the keycard, slapping it against the card reader as she reached the door to the stairwell. The impact knocked it from her grasp as the latched clicked.
She yanked the door open, leaving the card behind as she ducked into the stairwell, launching herself down the steps, vaulting over the railing to drop to the first floor. The door above her slammed against the wall as it flew open.
Millie darted out and ran to the conference room, sliding under the table. To her surprise, the employees were still milling about, carrying boxes as they finished packing. She sneaked around the nearest cubicle and joined the crowd, melting into the group as they flowed out.
The three security guards from upstairs rushed into the room. The leader, a burly man with a couple dozen pounds of padding and a regulation-length mustache, gathered the guards watching over the employees.
Millie pushed the sleeves of her jacket up and unzipped it, changing her appearance as much as possible. She stole a glance back watching the guards arguing. She kept her eyes fixed on the front exit, maintaining the same pace as the people around her to blend in.
The angry guard with the mustache shouted, “Search everyone before they leave. Someone broke into the lab and took several files that aren’t to leave the premises.”
A hand snagged the strap of Millie’s backpack, pulling it off. She maintained her grip and turned to look at the woman who had just grabbed her bag. The security guard had a bored expression on her face, just going through the motions to follow orders.
“I’m going to need to search this bag,” she said.
&nbs
p; CHAPTER
20
John yanked the second guard’s security badge and pulled the keys from the man’s pocket. “Let’s get Blythe and head out.”
The guard laughed. It was a forced sound, the fear evident. “You guys are never going to—”
Another group of people rounded the corner at the far end of the hallway. The man in front wore a military-style uniform with a rifle strapped in front of his body. The man behind him had on a suit and tie, and glanced around nervously as they stepped into view.
“That’s him. That’s Owen,” Roland said to John.
“Forrester,” the military man said.
A blur of movement snapped around the two men, a woman leaning out to open fire. John pulled Roland back behind the corner as Chance dove to the other side.
The muzzle flash pulsed followed a split second by the rattle of burst fire. Bullets tore the guard’s chest open. A spray of blood escaped his lips as he gurgled and fell back.
“INSEC!” John shouted, leaning out to pull the other guard back. Roland brought the MP5 up to his shoulder and returned fire. The three figures had already fallen back behind cover.
“I’m going after Blythe,” John said, firing two shots down the hall.
Chance dropped to a crouch and fired a burst to keep the attacker from popping back out. “We need to find a different way. This hallway is a deathtrap.”
The other guard shouldered Roland away and sprinted down the hall, hands cuffed behind his back. “Don’t shoot. I’m on your side.”
The woman leaned out again, almost laying prone. The muzzle flash and same rapid triple burst echoed out, stitching a trio of holes into the guard’s leg and hip. He screamed in agony as a second burst tore into his throat and jaw.
“They’re pinning us down to give Blythe the opening to escape. I’m going around that way.” John pointed his thumb back to a second hall that ran parallel. “Hold this spot and don’t let them through here.”
“He should have taken one of these,” Roland said, holding up the MP5.
Chance leaned out and fired another short burst. “I’m pretty sure we’re going to need them more, kid.”
* * *
John swiped the security badge, waiting for the beep and click as the lock disengaged. He shoved the door open and moved quickly through the halls, glancing into each of the offices, his pistol held at low ready.
Running now, John rushed through the halls until he reached a steel door. He slapped the keycard against the reader, but the flashing red light and the digital buzz was the only response.
Trying the first few keys on the key ring, John felt the frustration bubbling up as each inserted all the way into the lock but didn’t turn. He could hear voices issuing orders on the other side. The CARR Group security teams had Owen Blythe, and if he didn’t get through, they were going to escape.
John tossed the keys and took a step back. He launched a front kick, his foot hitting like a battering ram near the door’s latch. The steel rang and groaned in protest, but it held fast. Another kick hammered a dent into the metal panel and bent the frame.
The voices on the other side grew frantic, as the commotion got louder. John leaned back and launched himself forward, letting out an angry growl through gritted teeth. His shoulder slammed into the steel door, bending the metal and ripping the frame from the wall, as it flew open.
Staring into the wide eyes of one of the security team, John barreled into the room. The man tried to track John’s movement with the muzzle of his SMG, but the Ranger clotheslined him over the railing of the short landing leading to the back warehouse area.
His arm hit like a 2x4, flipping the guard’s body fully as he smacked on the unforgiving concrete. The rest of the guards scattered. Most ran for the vehicles parked near the rolling steel doors, while the rest scrambled for cover. John vaulted over the rail as they opened fire, their H&K MP5s peppering the walls with 9mm bullets.
John found cover behind a company truck and leaned out near the rear bumper to return fire. The more powerful .45 caliber rounds dropped the nearest assailant.
* * *
Chance shouted, “Go!” as he backpedaled, letting loose with a pair of extended bursts until his weapon ran dry.
Roland turned and ran, sliding around the corner. He leaned out and prepared to offer covering fire. Chance sprinted in his direction before the attacker could re-engage. Roland’s MP5 bucked in his hands, giving the detective the cover he needed to reach the end of the hall.
“Who is that?” Chance asked.
“That’s Burst,” Roland said, still staring along the weapon’s sights. “She’s part of Captain Hawke’s team.”
“Detective Chance Hunter, I presume,” a man shouted from the far end. “I’m going to make this easy for you. Toss your weapons out into the hall and surrender. I promise no harm will come to you.”
Chance looked at Roland, eyebrow raised. “Hawke?” he said mouthing the word.
Roland nodded.
“I’ve got a counter offer,” Chance said. “How about you and your lady friend drop your guns and give yourselves up. I’ll even read you your rights and everything.”
“This is a little outside of your jurisdiction,” Hawke said.
“Yeah well, I’m sure the DA will overlook that during your arraignment.”
“Listen, Detective, you are outclassed in every way,” Hawke said.
“Two on two,” Chance said. “I like our odds.” He swapped magazines and chambered a round.
Laughter echoed down the hall, from more than two people.
“Four,” a female voice said.
Roland’s face drew down, the color draining away. Chance looked at him with a quizzical expression.
“Flash,” Roland whispered. “She’s also part of the team.”
“Flash? Burst? Hawke must read too many comic books,” Chance said. “Hey Hawke, you and your Charlie’s Angels are about to be surrounded. The police should be here any minute once someone calls in about the firefight.”
“That’s funny,” Hawke said. “The airwaves seem awfully quiet. I don’t hear anyone calling that in.”
Faint popping reverberated in the distance.
“Shots fired, shots fired!” someone called over Hawke’s radio. “We’re under attack.”
Hawke cursed loudly. “Rhino, deal with it. Make sure Blythe gets out safely.”
CHAPTER
21
Reading, Pennsylvania
Millie tried to maintain her calm. “Come on. Isn’t it bad enough that they’re firing everyone? Now we have to sit through a humiliating search because someone doesn’t trust us?”
“Ma’am, I’m just doing my job here,” the woman said. “I’ll just take a quick peek.”
The head of security made his way through the crowd, angrily rifling through the contents of a few boxes before flipping one out of someone’s hands.
Millie gave the woman a slight nod, relaxing her arm as she relented. The crowd grew restless as the wave of anger washed forward. She used the emotions as cover and fell forward, pretending someone had pushed her.
Millie snatched the backpack away turning her back to the security guard. “Hey watch it,” she said to the man behind her.
He looked at her, a deer caught in headlights. She shoved him into an approaching security guard. He staggered back as his box of belongings spilled on the ground.
The other woman put a hand on Millie’s shoulder. “Calm down.”
Turning her body around again, Millie snapped an elbow back, catching the woman on the cheekbone, sending her deeper into the ocean of bodies. A brawl started in the center, growing out as the lead security guard lashed out at nearby employees.
Millie ducked and stepped to the outside of the crowd. A security guard grabbed her bag to stop her, but she offered no resistance, letting the man pull her in close. She turned her body and wedged her hip on the outside of his, tossing him over like a sack of flour.
&
nbsp; The chaos around her spilled to the edges of the room. Millie ran as far as she could near the wall before the mosh pit threatened to swallow her up. She climbed up onto a chair and stepped on the shoulder of a guard holding a woman in a headlock, jumping to a clearing.
At the edge of the crowd, a security guard burst through the wall of bodies. Millie’s arm extended as he grabbed hold of the backpack, ripping it free from her grip.
She turned to pursue when another guard grabbed a handful of her jacket. Millie turned and cracked him across the jaw with a right hook. She followed a knee to the midsection, dropping him.
Before she could get to the front door, the head of security moved to block her path. A look of pure hatred emanated from his eyes as the ends of his mustache arced downward. He rushed forward to tackle her.
Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted one of the cardboard boxes tossed to the floor in the rumble. She snapped a foot out in a tight arc, sliding it into the man’s path. His foot stepped inside, tripping him up and sending him sprawling.
Millie turned to sprint for the exit, following the guard that had taken her backpack.
* * *
Ty drummed his fingertips on the steering wheel to the beat of the music from his stereo. He glanced up at the lobby of the building as people started spilling out onto the sidewalk. He turned the music down and watched the brawl inside the building.
“Looks like Millie needs my help,” he said, thumbing the button to start the engine.
He snapped the gear shifter into first and disengaged the clutch, feathering the throttle for a smooth takeoff. The battle inside grew more chaotic. A pair of security guards from outside ran into the building, as another exited past them.
The guard that left had Millie’s backpack over his shoulder, shouting something into the radio. Ty rocketed around the corner making his approach as a CARR Group SUV pulled up in front of the building. He shifted to second gear, building up speed as the guard made his way around to the passenger side of the vehicle.
The Hard Core Page 8
