V Plague (Book 13): Exodus

by Dirk Patton

  Bill wasn’t pleased with the answer, but since he didn’t have a better suggestion, he kept his mouth shut. They followed for several more miles in heavy traffic, Delker sticking to the left lane. As they approached the exit for the Richmond airport, the Malibu suddenly swerved across traffic, nearly sideswiping an eighteen-wheeler, then shot down the ramp. Kid, who had been hanging back in the middle lane, had no problem merging right and taking the same exit without any dramatics.

  “Fuckin’ airport,” Sean breathed. “This is bad.”

  He didn’t need to detail for anyone in the vehicle that airports had lots of security and even more video surveillance. Once Delker crossed the outer boundary, there would be no way they could take him without winding up on the evening news.

  “Boogie,” he called on the radio. “Get your ass up here and stop him. Make it seem like an accident. Don’t alert him if you can help it.”

  “Copy,” Boogie answered.

  A moment later the second Suburban roared past on their left. They were on a busy, four-lane road and it sliced through traffic, quickly closing the distance to their target. Pulling alongside the Malibu, he began honking his horn and waving angrily at the driver directly in front of him.

  “Smarter than he looks.”

  Bill had leaned forward between the front seats and was watching the performance with a smile on his face.

  “Not really,” Kid said with a grin.

  “Stay sharp!” Sean barked, silencing both of them.

  Boogie’s act was working. The car in front of him wasn’t going any faster, and Delker reacted exactly the way he’d been trained. Avoid stupid and angry people so they don’t draw attention to you. The Chevy’s brake lights flared as he slowed, intending to give the enraged Suburban driver plenty of room to go around.

  “Now!”

  Sean shouted into the radio as the Malibu began to slow. With a savage yank of the wheel, Boogie rammed the side of the much heavier Suburban into the front fender of the target vehicle, sending it into a spin. It came to a bone jarring stop against a wooden utility pole and Kid wheeled them into a nearby parking lot so they were not immediately visible. Boogie slammed on the brakes, stopping on the edge of the road as half a dozen other motorists slowed to a halt.

  “Go, go, go!”

  Sean shouted into the radio as he and Poon leapt out of their vehicle. As they ran towards the disabled Malibu, Boogie and his passenger, Snakeshit, jumped out of their Suburban and staged a world-class drama. Each pointed at the damage to the SUV’s bodywork and screamed at the other. Within seconds, blows were thrown, and they fell to the ground to roll around at the edge of the pavement.

  There was not a single set of eyes in the area that wasn’t glued to the fight, and no one saw Sean run up and yank the driver’s door of the Malibu open. One of Chevy’s safety features was that if the computer sensed a major impact, it unlocked all the doors so rescuers could easily gain access. He knew this and took full advantage.

  Delker slowly looked around, bleeding from a nasty cut on his forehead. He was stunned, but training started to take over and he reached beneath his jacket for a weapon. Sean pinned his arm as Poon yanked the passenger door open, jumped in and jammed a spring-loaded syringe into their target’s neck. Within three seconds, he slumped unconscious into Sean’s waiting arms.

  12

  Several hours later, Sean walked into the small office where Bill was seated at a rickety folding table. Sweat beaded his brow, staining his collar and the underarms of his shirt, but it wasn’t from exertion. It was from the stress of attempting to extract information from a man who didn’t want to talk.

  “Any progress?”

  Bill watched as Sean poured water over his hands and wiped them clean with a small towel. It came away stained bright red.

  “No,” Sean said, shaking his head. “He’s well trained, and whatever his organization has planned, he’s a true believer. Not saying a word.”

  “Maybe I should talk to him,” Bill said.

  Sean gave him a non-committal look before shaking his head and drinking deeply from a bottle of water.

  “Still all quiet out there?”

  “Yes,” Bill answered. “Poon moved to the roof of a different building so he had an unobstructed view of the approach road, but other than that the guys are hunkered down and keeping their eyes open.”

  “So, what are we going to do?” Bill asked, making a point of checking his watch.

  “You’re looking nervous, Bill. Something I need to know?”

  “No.” Bill looked away. “Just a bad feeling.”

  “Failsafe?” Sean asked, earning a surprised look.

  Bill nodded.

  “Don’t look so damn surprised,” Sean groused. “We left his car crashed on the side of the road. First thing the cops would have done is run the plate, and as soon as it hits a computer, alarm bells are going to start going off somewhere. They’re looking for him by now. I’ve got no doubt.”

  Bill nodded again, his eyes slipping to the side.

  “What?”

  “That’s not the part I’m worried about.”

  “Then what?” Sean asked, squaring his shoulders and putting his fists on his hips.

  “If he’s as important to this whole thing as I think he is, well, what if things get advanced once his co-conspirators realize he’s been taken? Will they move up the timeline for whatever they’re going to do with those warheads?”

  Sean stood silently, considering what Bill had said. After a long, quiet stretch, he checked his watch. 1837, Eastern Time.

  “Sean,” Bill said gently. “I think you’d better resort to the drug.”

  Sean tilted his head back and looked up at the dark ceiling, fifty feet above. The vacant warehouse was huge, part of a massive industrial park that had fallen on hard times when the economy tanked a few years ago. It had never come back from the financial abyss that had devastated the region. But, that was good for him. There was no one to hear Delker’s screams.

  “Brain damage,” Sean said, looking back down at Bill. “I give him that drug, we’ve got sixty minutes, ninety at the most, before there’s permanent brain damage.”

  “Is that any worse than what’s already been done to him? What will be done?”

  Sean snapped a look at his father-in-law, eyes flashing in anger.

  “I did not mean that the way you took it,” Bill said softly. “You are doing what must be done. What I meant, was, when we get the information, he can’t be allowed to live. I know you know that. He wouldn’t rest until all of us, Anna included, were in a grave. What does brain damage matter if we’re going to put a bullet in his head when we’re done with him?”

  “Goddamn, Bill. That’s some coldblooded shit,” Boogie said as he walked up out of the shadows.

  He raised his hands when he saw the look Sean gave him.

  “Sorry, boss. Just a routine patrol. Guess I’ll keep moving.”

  The man quickly departed, Sean watching his broad back as he disappeared into the gloom at the far end of the warehouse.

  “He’s right,” Sean said when they were alone again. “That’s pretty fucking coldblooded.”

  “Surprised?” Bill asked. “You shouldn’t be. You don’t know me. You know Anna, but she’s more like her mother. She’d be horrified if she knew what I’d just suggested.”

  Sean stared at him then slowly nodded.

  “She’d be even more horrified if she knew I agreed with you.”

  “So, break the drugs out, son! I can hear that goddamn nuclear clock ticking.”

  Decision made, Sean turned to a hard-sided case that had been left in the Suburban for him. Dialing in a seven-digit combination, he popped the lid open to reveal a pair of loaded syringes nestled in foam cutouts. Lifting them out, he hesitated when Bill’s disposable phone began ringing.

  Bill answered and listened for nearly a minute without saying anything. Finally, he thanked the caller and closed the handset, looking
up at Sean with concern on his face.

  “General Olber is dead.”

  “What?” Sean asked, not sure he’d heard correctly.

  “General Olber is dead,” Bill repeated.

  “How?”

  “Plane crash into the ocean. I called him just before we left Alabama. Gave him a heads up. He was on his way from the Middle East with the commanders he trusted.”

  “Coincidence?” Sean asked.

  Bill snorted and shook his head.

  “You don’t believe that. Besides. When’s the last time you heard of an Air Force transport going down? They just don’t.”

  “So, we’re on our own.”

  Bill stood and placed his hand on Sean’s shoulder.

  “Let’s get on with it, son.”

  Sean nodded and led the way to the office that had become an inquisition chamber. Bill followed, and when the door opened he wrinkled his nose at the smell that rolled out to greet him. Human waste, sweat, fear and desperation. The odor of fresh blood was strong.

  Stepping through the opening, he closed it behind him and nearly faltered in his step when he saw Delker. The man was on his back, strapped down to a battered steel desk that had been left behind by the previous occupants of the warehouse. All his clothing had been removed, leaving him to writhe naked in his own shit and blood.

  Fingers were broken. Teeth were missing. One of his nipples had been sliced off and was lying in a puddle of some bodily fluid on the floor. But, the worst were his feet. The soles of each had been flayed open. His toes had been broken and slit, the flesh pulled back from the bone. Bill shuddered involuntarily as he stepped around a thick stream of blood that ran across the floor to pool against the wall.

  “Shudv knawn wus you,” Delker said through his shattered mouth when he saw Bill. “Gone fuck your dowter first. Ten keel er slow.”

  Without any hesitation, Sean jabbed the first syringe into Delker’s hip and depressed the plunger.

  “Want wok,” Delker said, trying to laugh but only succeeding in coughing. “Twained”

  “Not against this,” Sean said, stepping back and checking his watch. “I’ll give you the second one in ten minutes, then we’re off to see the wizard.”

  They stood in silence as Delker continued to rave at Bill, but it was short lived. Within minutes he calmed, awake, but seemingly drifting from thought to thought.

  “Phase one,” Sean said. “He’s no longer feeling any pain.”

  “Then how’s he awake?”

  “It’s not a painkiller. Somehow it disconnects his brain from his body. He can’t feel anything.”

  Bill nodded and they fell quiet again, Sean frequently looking at his watch. When time was up, he stepped in and injected Delker with the second syringe.

  “How long, now?” Bill asked.

  “Five minutes,” Sean said.

  “Then what? Just ask him questions?”

  “Yeah. But we’ve got to ask the right ones,” Sean said. “He’s awake, but his brain is in a… a… fuck, I can’t remember what the docs called it. Anyway, he’s kind of like a computer, now. If you know what to ask, you’ll get your answer. But you only get what you ask. Nothing gets volunteered. That’s why I didn’t start with this. It’s better if you can get someone to just spill their guts. A whole lot more information comes out.”

  “How do you know when he’s ready?”

  Sean leaned over Delker and peered into his glassy eyes.

  “Agent Delker, do you want to kill Bill Thompson?”

  “Yeth,” Delker answered in a dreamy voice.

  “He’d answer that way if he was sober as a judge,” Bill said.

  Sean glanced at Bill then back down.

  “Are you involved in the smuggling of nuclear warheads into New York City?”

  “Yeth.”

  Sean and Bill exchanged glances and Sean nodded.

  “Do you know where those warheads are right now?”

  “No.”

  13

  They spent half an hour trying to come up with a question that would give them even a hint of where the nukes were located. Try as they might, they achieved no success. Finally, Bill caught Sean’s eye and tilted his head at the door.

  “Could he be faking?” Bill asked when they were back on the warehouse floor.

  “No. At least according to the guys that created this shit. I’ve never personally used it before, but I’ve seen it used a few times. Watched an interrogation team get info out of jihadists that they’d have taken to their graves otherwise. I really don’t believe he knows their exact locations.”

  “That’s it!”

  Bill snapped his fingers and rushed back into the office.

  “Delker,” he said. “Which areas of New York are the warheads in?”

  Slowly and methodically, the man rattled off eight separate geographic locations. Unfortunately, the most specific one was Central Park. Sean and Bill stared at each other, elated at their small degree of success.

  “Where in Central Park?” Sean asked.

  “I dun know.”

  “Where in the Bronx?” Bill asked.

  “I dun know.”

  “Wait!” Sean held up his hand to stop Bill.

  “Delker, are the bombs inside buildings?”

  “No.”

  “Vehicles?”

  “No.”

  “Shit,” Sean breathed. “Where else could they be?”

  Bill had been listening, thinking as Sean ran through his list of questions.

  “Delker,” he said, looking down into the man’s empty eyes. “Are the bombs on the roofs of buildings?”

  “Yeth.”

  “That makes sense!” Bill cried. “Not an airburst, like an inbound missile, but there are some tall buildings in NYC, and the altitude will magnify the destruction.”

  “Do you know which buildings?” Sean asked.

  “No.”

  “Fuck!” Sean spat, turning away.

  “When are they set to detonate?” Bill asked, ignoring Sean.

  “Juwy fouth.”

  The two men looked at each other in elation. It was June. There was plenty of time to find the warheads. Before they could congratulate each other, Bill frowned and turned back to Delker.

  “Is there a failsafe built into your plans?”

  “Yeth.”

  “Tell me what the failsafe is,” Bill said softly.

  “If any printhipal ith apprehended or expothed, the thimeline to dethonation ith advanthed and the Chinethe operation is triggered.”

  “Chinese?” Sean blurted. “What do the goddamn Chinese have…”

  Bill cut him off with a raised hand.

  “Delker. How is the timeline advanced? To when?”

  “Twelf hours from confirmation that a printhipal ith mithing or hath been compromised.”

  “Delker, are you a principal?”

  “Yeth.”

  “Oh, fuck me,” Sean said, looking at his watch.

  “When?” Bill asked.

  “Three to four hours from now! Depends on how quickly they moved when we took him.”

  “Delker,” Sean said. “How do we stop the failsafe?”

  “It can’th be stopped.”

  “Who is in charge?” Bill asked.

  “The Cabal.”

  “What’s the Cabal?”

  “Who I work for.”

  Bill and Sean exchanged glances.

  “Delker. Don’t you work for the CIA?” Sean asked.

  “Yeth.”

  “Is the Cabal the CIA?”

  “No.”

  “Who are they? Who is in charge of the Cabal?” Bill asked.

  “The…. The…. The Cabal.”

  “What’s wrong?” Bill looked up at Sean who was checking his watch.

  “We’re running out of time. The brain damage is starting,” he said, then leaned over their prisoner. “Delker. What are the Chinese going to do?”

  The man stuttered briefly as he tried to
speak.

  “Delker. Concentrate. Tell me what the Chinese are going to do!”

  “N-n-n-n---erf…” his voice trailed off and a thin stream of bloody froth ran out of the corner of his mouth.

  “Nerf? What the hell is Nerf?” Bill asked.

  “Delker!” Sean shouted. “What is Nerf?”

  “G-g-g---g---asssssssssss,” he said, drool flooding out of his mouth as he hissed the word.

  “Nerve gas?” Sean asked. “Delker! Nerve gas? Where?”

  Delker never answered. His eyes lost all remaining focus, and his breathing began to slow.

  “He’s done,” Sean said in frustration. “What the hell do we do now?”

  Bill looked at him, horror and sadness on his face as he shook his head. Sean suddenly turned and raced out of the room. Reaching the table, he snatched up Bill’s cell and quickly input a number from memory.

  “Who you calling?” Bill asked.

  “CEO of my company,” Sean said, listening to the phone ring.

  It was answered by one of the women who staffed their twenty-four-hour operations center, and Sean gave her the emergency code word that would get him immediately transferred to his boss’s cell phone. While he was waiting, he explained to Bill.

  “My boss is a big shot political donor. Maybe he can get through to someone that can do something. It’s our only shot.”

  Bill nodded as the call was picked up.

  “Colonel Thompson, what’s the emergency?”

  “Sir, I have highly credible intelligence that there are eight nuclear warheads in New York City that are timed to detonate sometime within the next four hours. They are located on the roofs of unknown buildings throughout the metropolitan area, and there’s an additional device in Central Park.”

  “Whoa! Hold on. Now, what? Are you sure? Where’d you get this information?”

  “From a rogue CIA officer. Sir, there’s no time, and there’s no one else I can call. A warning needs to be sounded immediately!”

  Sean was nearly shouting into the phone at this point.

  “Calm down, Colonel. You surely don’t expect me to start making calls and bothering people over the word of one man, do you?”

  “Sir, this is not a joke! The intel is solid. I obtained it with Wizard.”