Behold Darkness (Wolves of the Apocalypse Book 1)

by LC Champlin

  Albin turned to meet his gaze with an electricity that made Nathan’s hackles prickle. “You are sitting beside one, sir. He should have listened to me, yes, but I should have taken the shot earlier. It was my fault.” The Reaper stalked in his tone, swung his scythe in the adviser’s frown.

  Seven heartbeats passed as the men sat motionless.

  “I’m sitting beside a perfectionist, and everyone knows their self assessments aren’t worth a Zimbabwe dollar.”

  Albin shook his head and returned to contemplating the wall. He faced his own wolves.

  If this adventure accomplished nothing else, it would at least see Albin free of his self-imposed burden. Nathan worried the bandage on his hand as his thoughts clicked back to the roof and the terrorists and the ultimatum.

  “Nineteen years ago that boy knelt before the terrorists and threw his life away. Today you stood up and saved lives. You saved my life. Family came first today, just as it did back then. I’m proud to have you at my side.”

  Albin’s shoulders lifted in a shrug. “I finish what I start, to quote you.”

  “Albin, we can’t save everyone. Family and friends die, but . . .”

  “We replace them?”

  Nathan sighed. Give him negotiations, arguments, or debates. He understood emotions enough to leverage them for his benefit, but beyond that, he might as well try to reason with a salmon.

  “Sir, what did the . . . what did Kate ask you to tell her mother?”

  “Ah. She said—” The words caught in Nathan’s throat, making him cough. “She said, ‘I’m sorry.’”

  Eyes down, Albin nodded as if his employer confirmed a suspicion. “Guilt.” He straightened, channeling the nobility of his royal ancestors. “It is not what occurs that matters so much as how we leverage the crisis.”

  “A challenge and an opportunity.”

  Silence settled. With it came the peace of revealed secrets, now as inert as defused bombs.

  A knock on the door brought the men’s attention to the exit.

  “I didn’t order room service,” Nathan responded.

  The door opened. The DHS guard cast an eye over his charges, then ordered, “Get up, gentlemen. The director will debrief you now.”

  Chapter 106

  Twenty Questions

  Take a Bow – Muse

  If Nathan wedged his right foot against the left table leg, leaned his right elbow on the edge of said table, and angled his torso just so, he could achieve a position of near comfort in the folding chair. Relief, brought to you by morphine! But it wouldn’t last. Given how long he had waited already, it might fade before the interrogation.

  To his right, the eye of a handheld camera watched him from atop its tripod. In a few minutes the red light would blink and set his confessions in stone. Good.

  Aside from him and the camera, the meeting room held two tables with four chairs each. Nothing else existed for distraction.

  Voices outside the door—which opened under the hand of Director Washington. Two male DHS storm troopers stomped after as she swept up to the table. She gave Nathan a once-over, glowering her joy at the reunion.

  The grunt nearest the camera flicked it on. Blink, blink, blink. Recording.

  Nathan wore a polite smile. “Director Washington, a pleasure to see you again. Forgive me if I don’t stand.”

  “Nathan Serebus. What do you have to say for yourself this time?”

  “I survived a terrorist attack and all I got was a collapsed lung, a chest tube—oh, and this stylish T-shirt.” He pulled the hem of his shirt down to display ARMY.

  Washington’s eyes narrowed. “Explain your involvement with terrorists and their attack on Doorway Pharmaceuticals.”

  Adjusting the angle of his spine for more comfort, Nathan glanced at the handheld on its tripod. “There was a camera on one of the terrorists. If it was recovered, then you already know as much, if not more, than I. In short, I was a hostage. Cheel chose me because he hoped I knew about the servers he wanted to tap.”

  “Do you?”

  “The servers are only my company’s. I feigned an alliance with Cheel. My hope was that the cavalry would arrive when the military started to miss its Black Hawk. If in the meantime a chance to stop the threat appeared, I’d act.”

  “You put a gun to a man’s head and pulled the trigger,” Washington growled.

  Which time? Jordan, probably. “You have video of that, then. Good. I’ll let the record speak for itself. I wouldn’t have pulled the trigger if it was loaded.”

  A moment of silence, then, “Where is the data? Cheel passed it to Ali, but it wasn’t on his body.”

  Years of perfecting a poker face kept Nathan’s expression neutral. The lingering effects of morphine and Ativan also helped. One—uhg, ribs—two, three, four. “If you’re concerned about the data, you should question Dr. Victor Anthony Birk.”

  Washington’s eye twitched. “He claims you and your employee, Albin Conrad, were working with the terrorists.”

  Nathan’s legs ached to shoot him to his feet so he could tower over her in righteous truth. “I’ll show you,” Nathan grunted as he reached into a Blackhawk pocket. God bless smartphones. Thumbing through the audio files, he queued the exchange with Birk when they had downloaded the data in the supercomputer room. He slid the device toward Washington, who received it with skepticism.

  As he and Birk argued on playback, Nathan readjusted his position. Why did both sides have to sustain fractures?

  When the audio ended, Washington pushed the phone toward him. “We are investigating all leads.” Pit-bull glower. “One of which is your willingness to help terrorists.”

  “Director Washington, with all due respect, I was under the impression that the question was, Why did the terrorists want this information? And while we’re on the topic of questions, I have one. Why did it take so long for the military to notice one of their choppers was off radar and unreachable by radio? Satellites should’ve been scanning the area thirty seconds after the bird disappeared. Cheel said that after he learned my whereabouts, he made a call that encouraged the brass to divert my chopper into his area.”

  Washington leaned forward, elbows on the table. “You handed over sensitive material to terrorists. That’s a serious offense.”

  In the camera’s blinking status light, a plan emerged from the haze. Mentally, Nathan crept closer. The plan approached him as it munched on Albin’s advice. Then it lay down. Gotcha.

  “Director, if I am to cooperate completely, I need someone I can cooperate with.”

  “You’ll work with whoever I—”

  “Captain Ron Avery.” A dose of infighting among agencies did a body good when it kept their eyes off him. “You people can’t even keep track of your own helicopters; I need someone I can trust.”

  Chapter 107

  Recalculating . . .

  Hear Me Now – Hollywood Undead

  Washington stared, and continued to stare. The silence thickened the air to liquid. “Go,” she relented at last, motioning to the nearest grunt.

  “Yes, Director.” He turned on his heel and marched out.

  Nathan eased a sigh through his nostrils and looked at the camera. “I came to San Francisco for legitimate business reasons, only to be caught in multiple attacks that nearly cost me and my associate our lives. I can’t tell you anything you don’t already know or can’t find out easily enough through other means.” Leave it to the government to use Cheel’s footage to deduce that Nathan held the drives, yet ignore the parts exonerating him of involvement with the terrorists.

  Washington drummed her nails on the table. “You were in no less than three attacks in less than twenty-four hours.” Her lip curled as she shook her head. “Either you have the worst luck in the world, or there’s something more behind this.”

  “It’s called being a target,” Nathan growled, shoulders tensing.

  Washington surged from her chair like
a breaching orca. Elbows locked, arms braced on the table, she leaned in. “There’s more to you than your mouth, and I’m going to dig it up even if I have to follow you and your partner to your graves.”

  Nathan blinked, leaning back three inches to avoid her hover’s footprint. “I agreed to cooperate, did I not?”

  The door opened and Captain Ron Avery appeared, like a tow vessel from fog. He cast a weary gaze over the assembled. Lines had aged his face ten years since last they met, while his eyes stared from dark rings. His shirt had more wrinkles than starch. “Mr. Serebus,” he grated, gravel in his voice after twenty-four hours of delivering orders.

  “Captain Avery,” Nathan greeted him with a nod. “Thank you for coming.”

  Avery dragged a chair up and slumped down. “Mr. Serebus, I’ve been briefed on the situation. We haven’t recovered any data drives from the man you threw off the building. We’re still searching the wreckage for Bassam’s body.”

  “Captain!” Washington barked.

  No corpse? The explosion might have destroyed it. Or . . . he faked his own death to get off scot-free with his life. What if—no, surely he hadn’t copied the data. What happened to the VAIO? Nathan’s extremities went numb. “Cheel said he would be out of US jurisdiction in minutes. Get the Navy to sweep for subs. Shut down the harbor, and air traffic just in case.” He pointed generally westward, toward the Bay. “If you haven’t found Cheel’s body, he’s likely still alive—”

  Holding a hand up, Avery gave a nod. “Thank you. The appropriate people have been informed.”

  Tension drained from Nathan’s body. If Cheel had survived, he wouldn’t escape.

  Avery leaned forward with a sigh, arms folded on the table. “Either you took the data and . . . don’t remember”—his gaze tracked over Nathan’s injuries—“or it’s on Bassam, who, if God doesn’t hate us too much, is dead in the debris.”

  Washington puffed with anger like a blowfish. “Forgot? Oh no he did not—”

  Avery plowed on: “But I’m starting to think we’re on the Divine’s shit list. Mr. Serebus, Nathan, if you have the data, I’ll see it gets to the right people. I don’t care that you didn’t hand it over the second you woke up.”

  At this, Washington’s face contorted as if she smelled a rotten egg inside a dead fish. “May I remind you, Captain, it’s not your place to make deals.”

  “Director,” Avery turned to face her, “I believe the CDC and NSA, among others, will appreciate you expediting matters.”

  Nostrils flaring, fists clenching, Washington glared from Avery to Nathan, then back to Avery.

  With the bulldog muzzled, Nathan smiled. “Very well. I’ll only trust it to your most-vetted, capable personnel. I’d hate to see you lose it like you lost my Black Hawk. After I give it to Captain Avery, Officer Rodriguez will do.”

  “Done,” Avery announced while Washington drew breath for a retort.

  Washington’s glower remained, but she reached to her shoulder mic. “Where’s Officer Rodriguez? . . . Get her to the debriefing rooms.”

  “Regarding the investigation,” Nathan forged on, “it will benefit whatever alphabet-soup agency that investigates Doorway Pharmaceuticals to keep the case quiet for a time.” If the agencies followed their usual shady practices, he’d just bought Doorway—and himself—time. “When Doorway knows it’s being investigated, it will do its best to move or destroy any incriminating files, just like government departments do.”

  “I’ll pass that along,” Avery replied. “None of it’s in my jurisdiction, though.”

  The chair squawked as he pushed back and stood. “Let’s go.” He motioned Nathan to follow. “The faster you get these people the data, the faster you can be on your way.”

  “What way is that, Captain?” Nathan asked as he eased to his feet. “Am I being kicked out the door into this hellscape, or can I hitch a ride to a safer locale?”

  “Get the DHS their data, and if they’re finished with you, I’ll see what I can do about transport.”

  Washington rocked to her feet. “I will be the one seeing about transport.”

  The group filed out, then Avery and the DHS officers escorted Nathan to his room. When the door closed, he pulled the square drive from his Nike’s tongue. The device felt warm, like a living creature. Warm with the lives its information could save. Warm with the power it promised its owner: power to control—no, to wield the cannibal plague.

  The drive seemed to increase in weight the longer he held it. The government didn’t deserve one, much less two. The Istiqaamah might even steal the information from them. Albin was right, though: the data would bring a quicker end to the cannibals if it lay in Uncle Sam’s hands. And benefit Albin and him more.

  The attorney had said he would hide the other drive. “If I were Albin . . .” No, where would Albin hide it so Nathan could find it?

  He leaned a shoulder against the side of the bookcase as he surveyed the office. Then he froze. Of course! The cache location in the hotel. Dropping to one knee, he felt behind the case, under the base. Tape over a hard, smooth object brushed his fingers. The second drive came free with some encouragement. Both drives disappeared into his pocket.

  Chapter 108

  Bridge Building

  Blood on My Name – Brothers Bright

  Outside, the two DHS troopers flanked Avery. Nathan withdrew the drives from his pocket and held them out to him. “If anyone will watch these like a hawk, you will.”

  The FEMA captain nodded in approval, his fist closing around them.

  “Are we cleared for transportation now?”

  “Head back to your room and wait for news.”

  “Would it be possible for me to access a satellite phone to contact my family?”

  “Sure.” Avery flagged down a passing DHS officer and gave the requisite instructions. Then he turned to Nathan. “I need to get back to the field, Nathan.”

  “Thank you, Captain. Good luck.”

  “You too,” the FEMA officer grunted as he trudged up the hall.

  Nathan came abreast of his escort as they rounded the corner—and came face to face with Josephine and Marvin.

  “Speak of the devil,” Nathan greeted Bridges with a grin and extended hand.

  “Mr. Serebus! It’s good to see you’re up and about,” JP replied, returning the handshake and grin. Aside from a few abrasions on his face, he looked in fine form.

  “Well done out there today.”

  Marvin shrugged. “I didn’t have anything else on my social calendar, and I figured everyone else was tied up.”

  Nathan opened his mouth to reply, but instead turned to his right, where Albin approached. “Albin, look who I ran into.”

  “Mr. Bridges, thank you for your actions today.” Albin too exchanged a handshake with Marvin.

  Josephine supplied, “We were just going to take a walk around the lovely grounds while he hosts a tell-all about what happened.”

  “I’d be more interested in hearing what happened to you guys!”

  Nathan turned to his escort. “Please see about that satellite phone. I’ll be just outside. Don’t worry, I’m not a flight risk in my condition.” He gave the man a pained but reassuring smile.

  “I suppose that’s acceptable, sir. I’ll take you through the garage and locate a phone there.”

  The five made their way outside and toward the Armory.

  Nathan drifted a yard away from the pack, Albin in his wake. “I invested my talent, but it will pay in spades if all goes well. Yours went tolerably well, I assume.”

  “As well as expected, sir.” He wore . . . an evil smile, by all standards. “They were quite sympathetic. I was even offered a counselor.”

  Nathan laughed. “So that you could explore your feelings? That would be a short session.”

  Albin’s brow twitched in a semblance of a shrug as he gave his half smile of pride.

  They reached the garage, where t
he DHS guard dog commandeered a satellite phone. “There might be better reception outside the metal.”

  Nathan only half heard as he headed for the parking lot. All pain forgotten, he felt only the weight of the phone in his hand and the promise of speaking with Janine in his heart. She had to pick up this time. With hellfire sweeping the city her husband was visiting, she’d check the sat phone the first chance she had.

  Outside, he found a place between the perimeter fence and a Ford F-250 that offered privacy. His mouth went dry. Cold sweat broke as he punched his home number.

  Calling . . .

  Chapter 109

  Wolf’s Prayer

  Dear God – Avenged Sevenfold

  One ring. Come on. Two. Get the phone, Janine. Three. Now! Four. He stared at the fence line in the distance, mind blank. Five. Six. Seven. Eight.

  Voicemail: Please leave a message after the tone.

  “It’s me. We’re safe and under DHS protection, but we might be away for a week or two. I don’t know if we’ll be in San Francisco, or even California, but I’ll stay in touch. I have my phone. Cell service and land lines are down, but maybe I can get somewhere they’re functional. Try texts. Say hi to Davie. Stay safe, both of you. I love you.”

  Gritting his teeth, he stared at the screen. She’s fine. She’s just . . . occupied. He leaned against the tailgate of the pickup, its metal cold against his back. God have mercy on anyone who trifled with Janine Crevan Serebus, because she wouldn’t. She is fine.

  God . . . mercy… Albin’s words grated in his memory: Your emergency was not God’s.

  Even with all the courage and savagery of the amarok, Nathan couldn’t protect his family. Not from this distance.