by John O'Brien
Hearing Horace confirm that she has control of the operations center and conversing with Lynn, I know that it’s our turn. I’ve waited because it would be a lot easier if those responding came to us rather than us entering and running into them, especially seeing there are only four of us.
We have waited long enough, though. The time has come for us to head inside. We have the upper hand at the moment but, like Lynn said, that may not last long. We need to keep the push going to capture the facility, and to do that, we have to capture the leadership. With them in hand or down, the rest should fall as they won’t have anything or anyone to fight for. However, it’s getting to them and then convincing those still fighting that it’s not worth it.
With a nod to Henderson, we unlock the security door and sweep inside. We enter into a brilliantly lit, wide corridor. The highly polished floors and painted walls, with pictures along the length, are so starkly different than the equipment bay that I’m momentarily startled. Walking from the concrete interior, filled with military vehicles and an ongoing firefight, into this feels like I’ve entered into some time-dimensional warp and stepped into a posh office building. Along one side of the wide hall are windowed offices, their interiors unlit.
Gonzalez and I spread to the side with Henderson and Denton behind. The hallway is the only place that’s lit…which makes me nervous. We’re in the light, whereas, anyone waiting for us will be hidden in the shadows. Luckily, there is a switch panel by the door. I’d hate to shoot out the lights as that would give notice to our location. If anyone is in this part of the complex, they know we’re already inside but not our exact location. With only four available at the moment, I would rather not get into a firefight, especially being in the open like we are. There aren’t any cameras here, so we at least have that going for us.
“Denton, hit the lights. We’re going in on NVGs,” I whisper.
The lights go out, plunging the hall into darkness. I see differing shades of gray and I hear subtle clicks as the others lower their NVGs into place.
Our boots squeak softly on the polished surface as we begin making our way down the hall. Checking the rooms as we pass, alert for anyone hiding within, I note that most don’t appear that they are being used, with some completely devoid of furnishings. The desktops that do appear are clear, only waiting for paperwork to be strewn across their surfaces.
Ahead, an intersecting hallway opens to the right as we proceed down the main hall. Conference rooms begin to appear between the offices as we slowly make our way past. In the distance, as I near the intersection, the main hall ends and turns to the right.
If I remember the diagram in the security room correctly, this area is filled with office space and what may be individual quarters farther in. At least the room sizes and adjoining bathrooms indicated this could be the case. Those are the rooms we’re trying to get to. If they’re occupied, then they will more than likely hold those in charge. I would have thought they would be in the operations center, but perhaps they didn’t make it before the alarm went off. If that’s the case, they could be anywhere.
However, the hall we’re approaching wasn’t indicated on the diagram, so all bets are off. At least, I don’t remember it being there, and it wasn’t on the original plan we studied at our compound.
Near the corner of the branching hall, I radio, “Lynn, Jack here. Can you spare three from Alpha? This place is a little bigger than expected.”
I’m worried about having our backsides covered if we proceed farther. No matter if we continue straight ahead or take the right, it would be easy for anyone to come up behind us and trap us.
“That’s fine, Jack, but it takes our reserves down. We’re still good for now, but we can’t keep this up forever,” Lynn answers, the sound of the heavy weapons chattering in the background.
“If you need those three, pull them back and we’ll deal with it,” I state.
“Copy that.”
The branching corridor is lit, casting a wide ribbon of light into the main one. I creep to the corner while we wait for the three from Watkins’ team to show up. Placing my mirror around the edge, I see that the corridor extends for a distance with some unlit windows facing the hall. Closed doors are placed at intervals along its length. Reaching up to a bank of switches, I flick them into their closed position, causing the hall to go dark… with one exception. Light issues from a window about half-way down.
* * * * * *
Gav sits in a conference room, waiting. She observes the lights go out and recognizes that the end has arrived. She’s been on the giving end enough times to know when it’s here. She looks to the handgun in her lap. She will greet her guests peacefully enough but wants it ready. If whoever is approaching comes in shooting, and she is to die, she won’t go down without a semblance of a fight.
It’s how she always pictured it, but perhaps not in this manner. She always knew, with her chosen profession, that her life would end early. There were very few who went on missions that made it to retirement; well…to an old age that is. They were always retired in some fashion or another. She knew she had been pressing her luck, was on borrowed time each time she went out. She had thought, however, that her end would come in some firefight after having been discovered. When she accepted this position, if she really ever had a choice, she counted herself fortunate that she had made it. Until now, that is.
“Well…so be it,” she murmurs, placing the radio, through which she had been monitoring events, on the table and resting her hand on the gun in her lap.
* * * * * *
The three from Alpha arrive and I direct them to watch the hall to our front. I want to take the corridor to the right, toward the room with the light showing. It may be a trap or it may have been left on as someone hastily departed. However, it is the only sign of human presence that I’ve seen since we entered this section, which means we may be getting closer to those that have to inhabit this place.
With our backs covered, we enter the side hall with our M-4s ready. We check each office and door we come to, trying not to focus on the light ahead. I feel the desire to rush to it, forgoing our security, and have to force myself to be patient.
Looking in each window as we pass, I think that it would be nice if this night vision carried the ability to see in the thermal spectrum as well. The rooms we pass are smaller in nature and the lack of many furnishings makes it easy to see if someone is hiding inside. The doors without windows are checked with a fiber optic camera and reveals only partially empty storerooms. It takes time to cover and check them all but we gradually inch closer to the light.
The lit room is the next one on the left. I crouch and make sure none of the others stray into the light, yet can still provide cover in either direction. Though the three from Alpha are out of sight covering the main hall, there’s still a chance that someone can come out of the doors we checked. Without knowing if there are connections between the rooms, it’s possible that we could be circumvented.
I peek into the room at the corner of the window. I don’t use my mirror as it may reflect light back inside and truly act as a signal mirror. That would kind of defeat the purpose. The quick glance reveals either a conference or lunch room. Against the far walls are cabinets above long counters with a sink in the middle of one. It’s sparse, but it’s kind of on par for the course with what I’ve seen so far. In the middle of the room is a round table with chairs tucked in around it. And…seated on the far side is a woman clad in fatigues, staring directly at me.
She doesn’t move, scream, or make any other sign that she has noticed me other than to maintain her gaze. She knows that I’m here, and it seems as if she was expecting for me to look in from this exact location. I’m a little startled. Realizing that the need for secrecy is up, I stand.
Motioning to the rest of Red Team, I let them know of the person in the room. Positioning Henderson and Denton to cover the hall, I boldly walk into the light with Gonzalez trailing. Turning the handle, we en
ter, covering the woman with our carbines, my finger rubbing along the trigger, watching for the slightest move. If she blinks wrong, I’ll send a burst into her at point blank.
Gonzalez sidles to the right of the room, covering the woman from separated positions so, if she decides to take us under fire somehow, she won’t be able to get both of us. Gonzalez, her lips drawn tight, keeps her M-4 barrel pointed unwaveringly at the woman. The woman remains seated and smiles at Gonzalez’ move.
“Captain Walker, I presume,” the woman states with a slight accent.
“And you must be Nahmer,” I reply, to which she nods.
“Please remove the gun from your lap and place it slowly on the table,” I say, with my red dot centered on her chest.
She tilts her head slightly and her expression alters to that of a quizzical nature.
“Your right shoulder is sagging. Only a very little but enough to give you that extra quickness and so that it won’t betray your actions as much when you go for it,” I say.
She smiles again and moves her hand. My hand tightens on my carbine and I feel the pressure as my finger squeezes harder on the trigger. I hear Gonzalez move a step and she gives a low growl. If it didn’t involve me having to look away from this woman, I would turn to stare at Gonzalez. Granted, we haven’t worked that long together but, in all of our actions, I’ve never heard her give a menacing growl of warning at anything. It’s probably because she is remembering Allie and is just itching for a reason to fire. Here is the woman who, in all likelihood, gave the order that ended with Allie’s life being taken; unceremoniously dropped to a sidewalk, lying in her own blood.
The woman, Nahmer, pauses, and then very slowly lifts a handgun from her lap with two fingers holding the trigger guard. She places it with equal slowness on the table next to a radio that is periodically broadcasting low voices over the airwaves.
“With your left pinky finger, slide it across the table,” I say, to which she complies.
“Gonzalez,” I say, indicating for her to retrieve the weapon.
Gonzalez moves closer and retrieves the handgun. She then moves to a position slightly behind and to the side of the woman, looking her over to see if she can observe any other weapons. She looks up and gives me a subtle shake of her head.
“Before we go on, I should ask if you have any other weapons on you,” I state.
“There are no others,” she replies.
“You know that, if I search you and find others, any further discussion we may have will be over.”
Nahmer nods her understanding but makes no move to remove anything else. I call to one of the Alpha team members to join us. Upon his arrival, I have Gonzalez search Nahmer, coming up with nothing more.
“Satisfied?” Nahmer asks, following the search.
“For the moment,” I answer.
More voices sound from the radio. The volume is turned down, so I can’t make out the individual words, but the ones I do hear seem confused and worried.
“So, Captain Walker, where do we go from here?” Nahmer questions.
“Well, you order your troops to surrender and we’ll have more discussions once that happens,” I reply.
“And why should I do that?” she asks.
“You are still trying to play cards you no longer hold. If you don’t, everyone in here will be dead within the hour. You and I both know that, so quit trying to play a game in which you’re no longer at the table.”
“Why should our casualties and what happens to us concern you?”
“They don’t, but I’ll lose people trying to root them out. We’re prepared to do that, but if that happens, you won’t like the way you die,” I state, staring directly into her eyes.
So far, she hasn’t tried any womanly wiles. I’m sure she knows the affect that can have on some but perhaps knows that it won’t be a player here. And, even though she is still trying to play the game, deep down she knows that she is hanging on by only a very thin thread. A wrong step and that thread will snap like it was never there.
“So, Captain Walker, you are offering me a quick death instead, then?”
“No. I may be offering you the only hope at life that you have. But I’m tired of playing this game.”
“Very well. What can I say? You won, I lost. That means you get to dictate what happens. May I use the radio?” she asks, nodding to the radio in front of her.
I get the feeling that she brought the radio here knowing full well what it would be intended for and how this was going to go down. At one time, we may have worked together, but events have transpired that make that impossible. Sitting in front of me is a person who was a ghost in all senses of the word; more of a fairy tale than real. If half the stories of her are real, or if the stories are only half real, then there is a remarkable mind behind those eyes.
“It had better be a clear and short conversation. If I get a whiff of any code being used, it will not end to your liking. Do we understand each other?” I ask.
“Only too well, I’m afraid. We aren’t really that much different,” she responds.
“Lady, we are worlds apart.”
With a sigh, she picks up the radio. “How would you like for this to go down?”
“First of all, you give the order which each commander will verify, indicating that they will comply. Each room will empty according to the orders of my team lead. Then, you will contact the remaining personnel with the same order. I warn you, Nahmer—” I begin.
“Call me Gav.”
“I warn you, Nahmer, if there’s any shot fired after you give the order, you know how it will have to end,” I finish.
“I would have thought you above clichés, but it will be as you say,” Nahmer states.
She then turns up the volume and contacts the companies, telling them to lay down their weapons and to comply with the commands of the opposing forces. After I hear the corresponding verifications, I radio Lynn and let her know what is transpiring.
Soldiers begin emerging from the barracks on Lynn’s orders and she rounds them up, placing them into small groups against one corner of the bay. She places those under guard and then gathers the operations center people, followed by the rest of the personnel. Barring anything unforeseen, we have the complex under control.
I continue to keep Nahmer separate so she can’t communicate with the others or initiate some other kind of action. I mean, who knows, she may have the place rigged to blow just in case.
With the security forces and personnel rounded up and under guard, Lynn directs two teams to search the maintenance areas and quarters for anyone else, finding no others. With her radio call that all is clear, I feel an immense relief. My body, which has been under continuous stress for hours on end, relaxes to some degree, allowing fatigue to replace the adrenaline which had been my mainstay. We’re not out of this yet so I can’t allow my guard to fall.
Part of the problem now is that I have no idea what to do with the prisoners. I guess I really didn’t expect to have any, so I hadn’t given it much thought. We just aren’t set up to take prisoners, and I don’t know what we would do with them in the long-term. I don’t trust them enough to fold them into our structure as they may cause problems in our group. But we can’t exactly kill them in cold-blood either. Well, we can and may have to if we can’t think of something else, but the thought doesn’t really sit too well with me. Turning them loose may just cause the same problems for us down the road.
If I thought the soldiers were truly evil, then it would be an easy decision. It may be that they were only following orders. However, even that isn’t a good enough reason to attack without provocation. There is the chance that they may not have known what was going on. That’s the problem I’m wrestling with. They may have been pulled directly from the military, or they may just simply be hired guns. If they are only hired mercenaries, that wouldn’t explain all of the military vehicles sitting in the equipment bay. Those had to come from some military base, or perhaps directly fr
om the manufacturer, which implies high-level connections in the past.
And then there is this Nahmer herself. She is far too dangerous to have with us or to leave her to her own devices. We have several dead to attest to that. The deep anger I felt at the loss of our people is allayed to a degree; both from the tiredness creeping over me and from standing face-to-face with our antagonist.
“Where did the security personnel come from?” I ask Nahmer, who remains seated.
“They were selected from various units and were ordered here,” she answers.
“So, they are regular soldiers. What will they do now?”
“I can’t speak for them, but I assume they will do whatever you tell them to do,” she replies.
“What do they know?”
“Next to nothing about the reality of this place, which I assume you already know about seeing you’re here,” she responds with a questioning look.
“Yes. I know what you and the others did, and why,” I state.
“Well, they know what happened…but not who or how. As far as they know, they are guarding one of the last establishments of government.”
At least I know the status of the soldiers under guard. However, that doesn’t mean that I can trust them or that they don’t have some other orders. It’s a tough decision, and one we’ll have to make soon.
“Lynn, I’m going to call Robert and have him land to drop Harold off. He’s the only one who can possibly decipher the equipment in the ops center. Can you send a team to escort him?” I radio.
