Saint Peter's Soldiers (A James Acton Thriller, Book #14)

by J. Robert Kennedy

  Sherrie flipped up another panel in the trunk and removed a small drone. She handed it to Fang whose eyes widened slightly in surprise.

  “It’s light.”

  Sherrie grinned. “But awesome.” She activated the app on her phone and the blades spun up, it lifting out of Fang’s outstretched hands. Directing it to the penthouse of the complex across the street, she watched the camera view on her display. Within moments, it was in position and she set it to hover, its numerous cameras filming every angle, transmitting regular spectrum and infrared.

  “Langley, are you getting this?”

  “Confirmed, Freebird. We’re showing eight heat signatures. Two appear to be in a hallway near an elevator, four are in the condo unit with two others in an adjacent room. It appears the two separate signatures are your targets, visual indicates they are tied to chairs, over.”

  Sherrie gave a thumbs up to Fang, happy her hunch had been correct. “What are your instructions, Control?”

  “Freebird, this is Control-Actual.” Sherrie smiled and her heart skipped as she recognized her boyfriend’s voice. “We’ve just received confirmation that they intend to kill Mrs. Acton. Be prepared to make entry, but hold until backup arrives.”

  “ETA?”

  “Fifteen minutes.”

  Sherrie looked at Fang who shook her head. “She’ll be dead by then,” whispered the Chinese exile.

  Sherrie nodded in agreement. A hostage was going to die, and she wasn’t about to let it happen. “Negative, Control. We’re going in.”

  “Negative, Freebird, you’re outnumbered three to one.”

  Fang help up a finger. “Control, Freebird-Zero-Three. We acknowledge the count, but they’re six men and we’re two women. It’s not a problem, out.”

  Sherrie grinned. “I think you and I are going to get along just fine.”

  Operations Center 3, CIA Headquarters, Langley, Virginia

  Leroux yanked his headset off, looking at Sonya. “Did they just shut off their comms?”

  Sonya stifled a smile, nodding. “Comms are down. Maybe there’s a problem?” she suggested, Leroux giving her a look, pointing at the display showing the drone footage. “Umm, sorry, boss. I guess she doesn’t want to talk to you.”

  Morrison entered before Leroux had a chance to respond, though he wasn’t sure what he would say, the young woman clearly taking delight in his domestic issues.

  “Report.”

  Leroux looked at him, part of him fuming at what had just happened, not because he was truly angry at an order being disobeyed, but because his girlfriend was about to put herself in grave danger.

  Would you feel the same way if it were any other agent?

  He had to admit to himself that he probably wouldn’t. In fact, he’d probably applaud them for being so brave, for putting their lives at risk to save an innocent civilian against such odds.

  Yet things were different. It was his girlfriend, the woman he loved, the only woman he had ever completely opened up to.

  He couldn’t lose her.

  And now he knew why he wasn’t supposed to be directing ops with her, why nobody was supposed to have a personal relationship with someone whose life may one day be in their hands.

  He sucked in a deep breath. “Sherrie—I mean Agent White—has found the hostages. She and Lee Fang are effecting an entrance.”

  “Backup?”

  “Kane is ten minutes out, FBI fifteen.”

  “How many hostiles?”

  “Six. Four inside the apartment, two in the hallway by the elevator.”

  “How are they getting in?”

  Leroux shook his head. “Comm problems. I don’t know.”

  “Sir, we’ve got a visual.”

  Leroux turned to Child. “Put it up.”

  A display flickered and a satellite image appeared, Child zooming into the condo building, nothing distinguishable.

  “Just a second.”

  The image changed, a hazy bluish green replacing everything. Leroux caught something out of the corner of his eye. “Pan right.”

  The image shifted and he smacked his forehead.

  “Is that them?”

  Morrison put a hand on Leroux’s shoulder. “If I know Agent White, I’d have to say yes.”

  Leroux closed his eyes.

  Why did I have to fall in love with a woman with a death wish?

  West Pratt Street, Baltimore, Maryland

  Sherrie looked at Fang. “Ready?”

  Fang nodded and Sherrie took aim, pulling the trigger. The grappling gun fired, the coiled spring sounded almost cartoonish, the rope piled on the ground beside her rapidly playing out as it sailed from the top of the building they were on to the condo unit across from them.

  The end slammed into the concrete rooftop, embedding itself firmly. She pulled the rope tight, tying it off then hooking herself on. “See you on the other side.”

  She stepped off and enjoyed the ride, it the quickest and safest way into the building. Her vehicle was fully equipped, she choosing it from the motor pool specifically for that fact, knowing full well they might have to rescue the hostages on their own. Entering the condo was risky because they didn’t know if the doorman could be trusted, and they couldn’t ride the elevator to the top, it guarded. That would have meant stairs and time.

  But a flash of her FBI badge in the building across the street had them heading swiftly for the roof, and now sliding across to their target building.

  Less than five minutes.

  Her boots hit the concrete and she squeezed the brake hard, killing her momentum then disconnecting herself. She glanced back and waved, Fang already leaping off the other building.

  No fear.

  Sherrie held the line until Fang cleared the edge of the roof then headed for the door.

  Locked.

  She planted a small charge as Fang joined her.

  “I get the impression you’ve done that before.”

  Fang nodded. “Standard training in the People’s Liberation Army Special Forces.”

  Sherrie guided Fang away from the door. “Remind me not to underestimate them.”

  “You’d be wise not to.”

  Sherrie triggered the device, the lock shredded an instant later.

  She reactivated her comm.

  “Control, Freebird. Any indication our hostiles just heard that?”

  “Freebird, Control Actual. Good to hear comms are working again.” Sherrie gave Fang a “busted” look, her boyfriend’s response dripping with sarcasm. “Negative on any movement, you’re clear, over.”

  “Entering the building now. Can you kill the power?”

  There was a pause. “Affirmative, let us know when.”

  “Stand by.”

  Fang pulled open the door and Sherrie took point, her Glock drawn. There was a small landing then another door, it unlocked. She pulled it open, a set of stairs revealed. She glanced over the railing and could see no one. She paused to listen.

  Nothing.

  She took the steps two at a time, stopping at the penthouse level door.

  “Freebird, Control Actual. We’ve got movement. One of the hostiles is heading for the bedroom with a weapon drawn, over.”

  “Shit!” Sherrie glanced at Fang as she screwed a suppressor in place. “Ready?” Fang nodded, twisting her own onto the end of her Glock. “Control, stand by on those lights.”

  “Roger that, standing by.”

  She yanked open the door and Fang burst through, Sherrie directly behind her, weapon raised as Fang took the right side, she the left. Two pops sounded from Fang’s weapon then she shifted aim slightly, following it up with two more quick shots.

  The hallway targets were down, Sherrie not having fired a shot.

  I’m glad she’s on my side.

  They continued to rush forward in silence. Fang covered them as Sherrie checked the downed men’s vitals.

  Both dead.

  She activated her comm as she tossed a charge to Fang
who immediately began to set it on the door to the Penthouse suite. “Control, ready on those lights?”

  “Affirmative.”

  “Kill the lights, now.”

  The hallway went dark, emergency lights kicking in as Fang activated the explosive device, blasting the lock, the door swinging open. Sherrie flipped her night vision goggles down and swiftly entered the room, three targets plainly visible. She took the first target in her arc, eliminating him with a double-tap to the chest.

  “Kill them!” shouted one of the targets, clearly shouting instructions to the other room with the hostages. Two shots fired to her left, one of the targets going down by Fang’s hand as she fired two more into the third.

  “Langley, have the hostages moved?”

  “Negative.”

  She visualized the image from the drone as she raised her weapon, advancing on the closed bedroom door.

  A woman screamed.

  A man shouted.

  And Sherrie prayed.

  She squeezed the trigger, firing round after round in an arc from left to right, all at shoulder height. Holes tore through the drywall separating the rooms, another scream from a woman, then a thump of something hitting the floor. She grabbed the doorknob and pushed against the door, something blocking it. She stuck her weapon then head inside and looked down at the floor, breathing a sigh of relief.

  It was the fourth hostile, bleeding from a hole in his neck.

  He groaned, then tried to raise his weapon. She pulled her second Glock and pumped three rounds into him, shoving hard against the door. Sweeping the room, Fang watching the door, she looked at the two clearly terrified hostages, and remembered they could see nothing.

  “Control, turn the power back on, over.”

  She flipped up the goggles, Fang doing the same, just as the overhead light flickered on. The panicked woman stared at her then Fang, clearly still terrified. Fang cut them loose and Sherrie knelt in front of them.

  “Take it easy, you’ve probably been sitting awhile; let’s get the circulation going first.”

  “Who are you people?” asked the husband.

  Sherrie smiled. “Your son sent us.”

  Operations Center 3, CIA Headquarters, Langley, Virginia

  Leroux exchanged fist bumps with the team, offering up one to Morrison who shook his head then chuckled, granting his underling some skin. To say Leroux was relieved was an understatement. His girlfriend going up against six hostiles was not how he had thought his day would play out, but it was over. Acton’s parents were safe, and Sherrie could come back in, perfectly secure while the Italian portion of the operation wound up.

  Marc Therrien cleared his throat. “Sir, I think I’ve figured out why they were using that apartment.”

  The jubilation immediately ceased, everyone turning to the analyst.

  “Go ahead.”

  “It’s listed on SimplyStay, it’s like an Airbnb type place. You know, you list your house or apartment for rent. It looks like he does it every time he’s out of town on business.”

  Sonya spun in her chair. “Why would someone so rich do that? It’s not like he needs the cash.”

  “I checked him out. He’s the CEO of that biomedical firm, but he’s an angel investor in a lot of other companies, including this one.”

  Leroux pursed his lips. “So he’s testing his own product.”

  “Yup.”

  “What can you tell us?”

  “The listing went up last week and it’s now showing as unavailable, so it was obviously rented.”

  “Can you trace the transaction?”

  “Should be able to, give me a few minutes.”

  Leroux nodded, turning to Child.

  “How about we let Professor Acton know his parents are safe.”

  CIA Safe House, Rome, Italy

  “You’re sure you’re okay?”

  “Yes, dear, we’re fine.”

  Just the sound of his mother’s voice had Acton collapsing on the couch, the adrenaline he’d been running on done with, his exhaustion already taking over. He closed his eyes, tears rolling down his cheeks as Laura hugged him, Reading on his feet exchanging a handshake with Mr. Verde.

  Everyone was elated.

  Though none obviously more than him.

  “I’m sorry I got you involved,” he managed, his voice cracking. “I’m so sorry. I was stupid.”

  “What’s this all about? Why did they take us?”

  Acton inhaled, holding it for a moment. “I got mixed up in something in Italy, but you’re safe now.”

  “Who are these people?”

  “I’ll explain everything later. You’re with my friends, they’ll get you to safety.”

  “Interesting friends you have. We’re definitely going to have a talk when you get home.”

  Acton smiled, enjoying the scolding. “Yes, Mom. Where are you now?”

  “We’re just getting on the elevator. They’re taking us somewhere safe, I guess.” There was a strange sound on the other end of the line. “Wait a minute, what was that? Oh my God, no!”

  “Mom! Mom! What is it? What’s happening?”

  He heard screams and loud bursts of static, then nothing.

  “Mom!” He stared at the phone, the call ended, then looked at Laura. “Something’s happened!”

  West Pratt Street, Baltimore, Maryland

  Kane pulled up outside the condo, parking behind Sherrie’s vehicle. He had been pissed when he heard they had gone in without backup, though knew he would have done no different.

  And it had all worked out.

  He climbed out of the vehicle and headed for the front entrance when he felt the ground shake and a screeching sound tear through the air above him. He looked and a massive fireball erupted from the top of the building. He rushed forward, toward the awning covering the entrance as glass and debris rained down around him.

  His phone was already in his hand, dialing Sherrie’s number, his comm active in his ear. “Control, Freebird-Zero-One, there’s been an explosion here. Call it in, we’re going to need police, fire and paramedics.”

  “Roger that, contacting local authorities now.”

  “Zero-One, this is Control Actual. We’ve lost comms with our personnel. Do you have eyes on them, over?”

  Kane immediately recognized Leroux’s voice and the panic came through the digital equipment loud and clear. He pointed at the security guard behind the front desk who was still half-ducking, half-staring up at the ceiling. “Do you have an evacuation procedure?”

  The man nodded.

  “Then do it!”

  Kane headed for the stairwell, rushing up the steps as fast as he could as Sherrie’s phone continued to ring, unanswered, then going to voicemail. He switched, trying Fang’s, before he realized his friend was repeating his question.

  “Negative, Control, I’m attempting to access the site now. Stand by.”

  The fire alarm sounded but the stairwell was already starting to fill, panicked residents evacuating, there no ignoring what had happened at the top of the building. As he continued his climb, the numbers surged then dwindled and he was soon at the penthouse level, the door blown off its hinges.

  He shoved it aside and stepped out into what could only be described as a war zone. One entire side of the floor, where the hostiles and hostages had been, was gone, the studded walls mere remnants of themselves, giving him a clear view of the apartment, the devastation inside, total. The windows were blown out, the wind whipping around the debris, there few flames, the explosion mostly extinguishing itself as it had rapidly chewed through its oxygen supply.

  It was as if it had been designed only to take out this one penthouse unit.

  A failsafe?

  It made sense, though it meant that they were dealing with a brutal organization willing to kill its own should it become necessary.

  And send a message while doing it.

  “Control, Zero-One. The entire penthouse level has been taken out. Looks l
ike explosives. Some sort of failsafe.”

  “Is—is there anyone alive? Can you contact Zero-Two or Three?”

  Leroux’s voice was cracking and it tore at Kane’s heart, his best friend going through something that no one should have to experience.

  Morrison should never have let her help.

  He shook his head as he made his way deeper down what was once the hallway.

  It’s nobody’s fault. No one expected this.

  He spotted what appeared to be charred remains farther ahead, two bodies slammed against the wall containing the elevators, the flesh burned crisp. He knelt down beside them then stood back up.

  There was just no way to tell.

  “Stand by, we’re getting a call from Professor Acton.” There was a pause as Kane continued into the apartment, stepping through an opening that was once a wall. Remnants of furniture littered the room, an open concept kitchen to his left charred almost beyond recognition except for the stainless steel appliances, strangely still shining. His comm squawked. “Check the elevator! Acton said they were in the elevator when the explosion happened!”

  Kane whipped around and jumped back into the hallway, grabbing the seam of the elevator doors and prying them open. Inside he was greeted with cables, several loose, cut in the explosion. He leaned in and saw the elevator car far below him, the second shaft clear, that car looking like it was already at the bottom.

  He stepped out, wrapping his sleeved arms then his legs around the cables, sliding down quickly, ignoring the friction. He came to rest on the top of the car, it protesting loudly at the shift in weight. Still holding onto the cable with one hand, he reached over and yanked the damaged hatch open then peered inside.

  “Oh no!”

  Operations Center 3, CIA Headquarters, Langley, Virginia

  “What did he just say?”

  Leroux was in a panic, not sure what to do. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair. A hand gripped his shoulder and spun him around. Morrison snapped his fingers, motioning for the headset. Leroux gave it to him and Morrison fit it in place. He pointed at a chair. “Sit.”