Rogue Faction Part 2: A Cyrus Cooper Thriller: Book Three

by Xander Weaver

  “How much were you paid?” Cyrus asked. He was careful not to imply whether the payment came from a person or a group. With luck, the gunman would fill in that blank for him.

  “Do you see the gun?” the man snarled. “It means I ask the questions!”

  Cyrus shrugged. He wasn’t the one holding the gun, but he was the calmer of the two…and he was certainly thinking more clearly. Despite the look of the situation, it meant he was the one in control, so long as he could keep talking and not get shot in the process.

  “Fine. You have the gun, and you have questions. Ask away.”

  The Frenchman’s brows arched at the idea but he didn’t respond.

  “You must have questions,” Cyrus urged. “If I were in your place, I’d want to know if the person who put me up to this knew all of this would happen. I would wonder if I’d been intentionally put in this position. I’d be thinking real long and hard about what I was getting out of this and questioning whether it was worth it in the end.”

  “The money’s good, don’t worry about that,” the gunman uttered through clamped teeth.

  Cyrus shrugged and pointed with the thumb of his raised hand over his shoulder at the closed door to the security office. “I suppose the money’s only gotten better, what with the rest of your guys not around to split it.”

  Rage flared in the gunman’s eyes. He stomped forward, closing the distance between them. Jamming the gun in Cyrus’s face, spittle flew from his lips as he bellowed, “I have you to thank for—”

  He never had a chance to finish the thought. Cyrus batted the weapon from his face and delivered a tooth-shattering uppercut to the bottom of the gunman’s jaw. The gun slipped freely from the man’s hand, dropping into Cyrus’s left, almost as if it had been intentionally handed off. The Frenchman staggered backward a single pace before dropping hard onto his butt. His eyes fluttered but his face was expressionless. Switching the gun to his right hand, Cyrus brought the grip down in a backhanded swing, cracking it across the side of the Frenchman’s skull. The blow sent his unconscious body sliding two feet along the tile floor before stopping in a heap.

  Sticking the gun down the back of his waistband, Cyrus retrieved his own weapon from the floor. The building had once more returned to complete and utter silence. The unconscious Frenchman lay face down on the floor with a short, crimson, skid mark leading to his broken jaw.

  Chapter 14

  The Voss Compound

  1:13 am

  With nine of the ten guards accounted for, it was the missing man who still concerned Cyrus. After binding the Frenchman hand and foot with sets of flex cuffs from the security office, Cyrus locked him in a utility closet and secured the door using Voss’s master code. Using the restrictive access code was overkill as far as precautions went, but the evening had turned into a bloodbath and he needed to be certain that the night held no more surprises.

  Armed with two handguns, several magazines, a spare set of flex cuffs, and Voss’s master code, Cyrus made a meticulous room-by-room sweep of the building. He cleared the fifth floor without finding any surprises. Wagner remained in the weight room in sad physical shape but surprisingly good spirits. When Cyrus stopped to report the apprehension of the ninth man, it seemed to have a rejuvenating effect on Wagner. And though Wagner insisted that his injuries left him in no immediate danger, Cyrus wasn’t buying into the story. Wagner was in bad shape and needed medical attention at the first opportunity. Unfortunately, unless Natasha had undergone extensive trauma training, Wagner would need the sort of help she couldn’t provide.

  Pushing the thought aside for the moment, Cyrus focused on his most immediate problem. He had to finish his sweep of the building and discover the fate of the missing tenth man. Wagner insisted he could wait that long. Cyrus hoped he was right. In any case, they didn’t have much choice in the matter; until the building was secure, they were all still in danger.

  Completing his sweep of the fourth floor, Cyrus retrieved Voss from the hiding place where he’d left him. Passing one of the guns to the reluctant old scientist, together they searched the third floor.

  When that floor failed to yield their missing man, Cyrus opted to leave Voss with Natasha and Anna. After completing a sweep of the floor, Cyrus doubled back to Natasha’s room. He guided Voss across the room and directed him to her walk-in closet.

  “I don’t understand,” Voss mumbled, as he followed Cyrus to the back of the space.

  Cyrus grinned but said nothing. Pushing on a section of the wood paneling, a portion of wall swung free. He stepped aside to reveal the waiting and anxious faces of Natasha and Anna.

  The girls charged from their hiding place at the sight of Voss, throwing their arms around the haggard, exhausted man. Cyrus saw Voss was equally relieved to see them. But there was still work to be done. As Cyrus coaxed all three family members into the hiding place, he could hear Voss mumbling something about not knowing that the passage had even existed.

  Anna and Voss disappeared into the darkness of the space beyond, but Natasha stopped just inside the small door. She put her hand on Cyrus’s arm and looked deeply into his eyes. “Please, be careful,” she said quietly. “I don’t want to lose you again.”

  “Not a chance,” he said with a wink.

  Crouched on her knees, she leaned through the small door and kissed him. It was a kiss that instantly reminded him of everything they had once shared. As her arms slid around his neck, he lifted her through the hatch. He cradled her in his arms and sat back on the floor. She pulled him against her. The deeply passionate nature of her touch expressed feelings that neither had forgotten.

  There was a sincere sense of disappointment when she slowly pulled away. They were sitting in the middle of the floor like a couple of teenagers. The thought made Cyrus smile. Looking into the depths of her eyes, he saw the same passionate, expressive person that he’d once known. It made him realize that, though time might have passed, things might not have changed as much as he’d feared.

  Her voice cracked with her words. “Come back soon?” she asked with a tired smile.

  “Count on it,” he whispered.

  Once she’d stepped back through the hole in the wall, Cyrus sealed the passage and took a look at the area. He made sure they’d left nothing to give away the hiding place. He should’ve had more confidence, knowing the building was in lockdown and that he was the only one able to move freely.

  The search of the second floor was uneventful. It took time to search every nook and cranny of the kitchen and attached cafeteria, but Cyrus left no stone unturned. His examination of the medical suite proved equally uneventful, though he did stop to dry swallow three prescription strength ibuprofen before moving on. Though he was still moving with efficiency, he was feeling the effects of the recent physical abuse.

  Clearing the first floor also went easily. Nothing seemed out of place until he reached the sub-levels. The first sub-level held the motor pool as well as an Olympic size swimming pool and a sauna. Opting to start with the motor pool, he walked to the dark garage.

  The cavernous space was lit only by small, dim bulbs that were spaced evenly around the upper perimeter of the room. It was the same type of emergency lighting that lined the hallways of the underground levels. It did nothing to illuminate the garage. As much as Cyrus strained, the small bulbs didn’t even reach the floor, let alone provide enough light for a thorough search.

  Standing silently in the doorway of the garage, Cyrus listened for anything out of the ordinary. Left with no alternative, he decided to activate the overhead lights. He stepped into the room, but stood an arm’s length away from the bank of light switches—and opposite the side from which someone would normally activate them. If someone was lying in wait, Cyrus knew he might survive the initial assault simply by not standing where expected.

  With a slow, deep breath, Cyrus brought his gun up and to the ready. He started flipping the switches three at a time. Even as the halogen lights on the ceiling high
above buzzed and began to flicker to life, Cyrus was stepping further from the switches, his eyes moving quickly across the wide room in search of a threat or a target.

  But as sure as he’d been that a trap was waiting, no attack came. He stood silently and observed the contents of the room. The motor pool was a wide concrete expanse that occupied the majority of the basement level. The walls were poured cement to match the floor, the only difference being that the floor had a visible polish and sealed shine. There were half-a-dozen black Chevy Suburbans parked in a line facing a massive closed overhead door to the left. Beyond the overhead door, Cyrus knew there would be a short ramp leading to the surface where another, even more imposing retractable security door, was waiting. He’d seen the doors on the screens in the security office.

  Moving slowly past the first Suburban, a row of long tool benches came into view. Beyond the six SUV’s were a four-door BMW X5 SUV and a late model Porsche Cayenne four-wheel-drive. There was another Suburban up on a lift, apparently in the process of undergoing maintenance.

  Walking past the second of the Suburbans, Cyrus stopped short. Stepping back between the first and second vehicle, he glanced at the floor to confirm what he’d seen from the corner of his eye. The tires of the second SUV were slashed. Oddly, the first vehicle was still in working order.

  Moving on, Cyrus quickly confirmed his suspicion. The tires on the remaining four had been slashed as well. All but one of the trucks sat on deflated tires, their rims touching the concrete floor.

  This was the French team’s exit strategy, Cyrus reasoned. One vehicle had been left for exfiltration.

  Moving on, he continued his search of the garage. Aside from the damaged 4x4’s, he didn’t find anything of further interest. But when he neared the wide window spanning the front of the shop manager’s office, his eyes were instantly pulled to the set of feet protruding from behind the desk. Dark slacks and worn, but expensive shoes, that matched the rest of the security detail told Cyrus that he’d finally located the missing man.

  Turning the knob on the office door, Cyrus pushed his way into the room. He kept his gun up and ready while he moved silently. The room was small but organized. Not surprising after seeing the rest of the shop. As he moved, Cyrus kept an eye on the feet belonging to the body on the floor beyond the desk. Finally, without wasting a second to overthink his situation, he stepped around the desk with his finger snug on the trigger and ready to fire.

  But rather than a hostile attacker, Cyrus discovered an unconscious man who was bound hand and foot with thick zip ties. Stepping forward, he kept the man covered while he double-checked the bindings. They were intact. The restraints were cutting into the flesh of the man’s wrists thanks to the awkward angle at which he lay. The ties had sliced into his skin, turning the wounds bloody from their bite. The purple bruises creeping away from the edges of the restraints spoke to how long the man had been bound.

  Checking for a pulse, Cyrus was surprised to find him still alive. It took only a moment to cut the bindings. As they fell away, Cyrus wondered why the man had been bound using zip ties rather than flex cuffs. Maybe he’d been ambushed by his own men while making a check of the garage? Perhaps he’d even walked in on one of the guards and found him slashing the tires?

  It was an interesting anomaly.

  Laying the guard flat on his back, Cyrus carefully placed the man’s arms out at his sides in hopes that it would allow better blood flow. He had no idea how long the man had been left trussed up on the floor, or why he was unconscious.

  Standing, Cyrus looked around the office more carefully. A strange smell caught his attention, and not for the first time since entering the small office. At first, he’d written it off as one of the many odd chemical odors common to a garage. But this time the whiff had triggered recognition.

  Checking the floor, Cyrus found the source of the odor. A small bottle of chloroform lay dumped and discarded under the shop manager’s desk. Retrieving the bottle, he found it empty. A sticky residue on the floor marked where the contents had spilled before mostly evaporating. Searching the remainder of the floor, Cyrus found a chloroform drenched rag, the corner of which was sticking out from under the unconscious man’s shoulder.

  It was odd that the Frenchmen had no problems killing most of their comrades in the course of their operation, but this man had been drugged rather than murdered. What was different about him? Was he part of their escape plan?

  Considering the disabled SUV’s, Cyrus reasoned that he might be looking at the first casualty of the night’s operation. If this guard walked in on one of his own slashing tires, they would’ve needed to take him out of play in short order. But if it happened before they were ready with the remainder of their plan, it made sense to do it quietly. A gunshot fired too early would jeopardize the entire operation.

  So they’d taken this guard down silently.

  Still…

  Cyrus looked at the gun he held in his right hand and the knife in his left. These guys didn’t have a problem killing. So why not just knife the guard? Cut him down quietly? At least that way he wouldn’t pose a danger to the rest of the operation.

  Plus, the use of chloroform hinted that certain steps had been taken to secure this guard while keeping him alive. Was there some unrealized part of the plan he was missing? An intention to hang the attack on a single guard? Was this man supposed to be the scapegoat?

  No matter how Cyrus did the math, things weren’t adding up.

  A groan from the far side of the desk pulled him from his thoughts. Cyrus looked over the corner of the desk as the guard struggled to pull himself up and onto his elbows. His eyes rolled as he fought the effects of the drug for control of his body.

  “Are you alright?” Cyrus asked.

  The guard recoiled, his head snapping around to meet Cyrus’s stare. He looked at Cyrus for a moment as if trying to understand his words. Then slowly, as if in great pain, he nodded.

  Finally, after a few deep breaths the guard pulled himself into a seated position. His eyes were glassy, and he trembled. Normally Cyrus would’ve guessed it was due to a head wound but he had examined the man while he was unconscious. There was no swelling to indicate such an injury. Still, he’d been drugged; that was more than enough. An overdose of chloroform could paralyze respiratory functions and kill even a healthy person, so depending on how large of a dose he’d been given, any number of things could be wrong.

  Cyrus offered the guard a hand and pulled him from the floor. No sooner had the man put weight on his feet then his knees threatened to buckle. Cyrus saw his eyes go wide in response. The guard spun quickly and vomited across the wall beside the desk.

  Stepping into the garage, Cyrus retrieved some clean rags from a shelf over a nearby bench. He tossed one to the guard but said nothing. There was nothing to say in such a situation. The poor guy just needed some time to let the effects pass.

  Chapter 15

  The Voss Compound

  2:25 am

  After escorting the last guard to the infirmary, Cyrus returned to the third floor where he retrieved Natasha, Anna, and Doctor Voss from their hiding place. He explained what had happened and how he discovered the last missing guard, whose name turned out to be Talbet.

  Cyrus took Voss and a wheeled gurney up to five and retrieved Wagner. Upon delivering him to medical, Natasha assessed his condition and confirmed that his injuries were beyond her ability to efficiently treat. They needed to get him to the island’s central hospital as soon as possible. His life would soon depend on it.

  Lacking better options, Cyrus would need to take Wagner himself. Now that things were under control inside the building, Voss firmly believed that he and his daughters would be safe in his absence. They would lock down the building once more, after Cyrus left with Wagner. Voss would even go so far as to replace all existing access codes, preventing anyone outside from getting in even if a corrupt member of the security detail had provided codes.

  The famil
y would be safe inside the building while Cyrus saw to Wagner, Voss assured. Cyrus wasn’t entirely convinced. The calculating side of his mind warned that leaving the Voss family unguarded threatened to undermine all that he was trying to protect.

  Still, in the end he didn’t have a choice. Wagner needed medical help, and according to Natasha’s evaluation, he needed it soon. Though he was stoically downplaying his discomfort, Natasha explained that Wagner’s injuries would prove mortal if not treated immediately.

  Cyrus loaded Wagner into the rear passenger seat of the only remaining Suburban four-wheel-drive. Getting the large man off the gurney proved challenging. In the transition, Cyrus noticed a tradeoff taking place. Talbet was looking better by the minute while Wagner seemed more lethargic and less responsive.

  They needed to hurry.

  Sliding behind the wheel of the 4x4, Cyrus tapped the mobile connection on the steering wheel. One ring came from the vehicle’s built-in speakers before Natasha answered.

  “We’re all set,” Cyrus said into the speakerphone as Talbet climbed into the front passenger seat.

  “Opening inner door now,” Natasha announced.

  The massive, louvered steel, overhead door began retracting into the ceiling. Cyrus started the ignition and shifted into gear. They passed beneath the still opening door and began to climb the short concrete ramp leading to the surface. The ramp was part of a short tunnel that twisted ninety degrees in a slow, ascending bend. Just before rounding the corner, Cyrus saw the door behind them was already drawing closed. The headlights added to the bright sodium vapor floods that shone down from above as they approached a second massive door at the top end of the ramp.