Tears of God (The Blackwell Files Book 7)

by Steven F Freeman

  Of the one remaining truth, David had disclosed nothing to Vaziri. He valued the life of his adopted daughter as much as Alton valued that of his wife’s. No conversation between the two friends had been needed to reach a tacit understanding: Alpha team must never be mentioned. To do so would be to jeopardize their lives.

  Now, however, the female members of the NSA team may have announced their presence in dramatic fashion.

  The noise of a second explosion rolled through the building in waves—not terribly loud, but lingering for a duration of at least dozen seconds.

  “Let’s keep an eye on the door,” said Alton. “I’d like to see exactly what’s going on.” And see if they’d have a chance to get the hell out of there.

  CHAPTER 73

  Mallory kept her attention riveted to the mop bucket she guided in front of her, while Mastana pushed a large, gray trashcan in which they had stashed their A4 rifles and web gear. Avoiding eye contact seemed to make them invisible to the scurrying DTI employees.

  As planned, Kevin walked behind them, far enough in the rear to avoid the appearance of traveling together but close enough to warn them of impending trouble.

  Mallory glanced at a succession of smaller corridors branching off to the left. The second-to-last hallway contained the Menagerie’s makeshift cell—and her husband.

  As the NSA agents ambled down the hallway, several EGs strode past them, heading towards the front of the building—probably redeploying within the building to replace the majority of guards who had left to investigate Silva’s explosions.

  Another minute of walking brought Mallory and Mastana near the correct hallway. A pair of EGs manned the entrance, one behind a small desk, the other standing in the remaining gap. They scrutinized everyone who approached.

  This wasn’t going to be easy.

  Mallory reached the guarded hallway. Knowing her accent would stand out, she didn’t speak. Instead, she used the mop to gesture to the hallway in an exhausted fashion, as if she had labored at this task all day.

  The standing guard looked down at the sitting one. Before they could speak, Kevin drew even with the group. He pulled out his Taser and pointed it at Mallory and Mastana.

  “Look what we’ve caught, mates. A couple of American spies.”

  “Are you serious?” asked the standing EG, a burly fellow who looked ready to jump into a game of rugby at a moment’s notice.

  “Yeah. I’ve been following them down the hall. Why don’t you call the Director and let him know who we’ve captured?”

  The sitting guard grinned. “It’d be my pleasure.”

  “Back there, you two,” said Kevin, using his Taser to point down the prison hallway. They trudged past, and Kevin followed. He couldn’t seem to meet their eyes.

  Once past the EGs, Kevin turned around. He fired his stun gun, launching its darts into the larger guard’s oversized neck. The man convulsed as he crashed to the tiled floor.

  Mallory didn’t need to be told what to do. She began to draw out her own Taser. Before she could act, though, Mastana launched a spinning back kick, catching the stunned sitting guard on his temple and sending him slumping to the floor.

  “Quick,” said Kevin. “Drag them into one of those back rooms before someone comes along.”

  Mastana grabbed the arms of her victim and began to pull him deeper into the hallway. Mallory and Kevin each grabbed an arm of the rugby player and lugged him across the tiles.

  They pulled the EGs into the hallway’s last room, a space still used for its original function of storage, and set to work binding and gagging them.

  As she worked to tighten a knot, Mallory glanced at Kevin. “You scared the crap out of me back there. That wasn’t part of the plan.”

  “Sorry,” he replied. “That big bloke looked suspicious as soon as he saw you. Once he started to pull out his pistol, I figured I’d better give him a reason to leave it holstered.”

  “That was quick thinking. Thanks.”

  “No worries.” He finished off the knots on his EG. “Now let’s go find your friends.”

  CHAPTER 74

  Alton heard a commotion and a strange electrical crackle in the hallway outside his cell.

  “Did you hear that?” he asked his companions. “Something’s going down out there.”

  He limped to the cell’s tiny window and peered out, just in time for the scuffling noises to cease. Too bad the window afforded a view of only a few yards down the hall.

  Three hunched-down figures, a uniformed man and two janitors, flashed past him in the hallway, dragging his red-uniformed guards across the tile. Alton swiveled his gaze towards the retreating figures just in time to see them disappear down the corridor.

  He glanced back to his teammates. If a jailbreak were imminent, there was no point in tipping off those monitoring the cell’s conversation. Instead, he darted his eyes to the door, a signal to prepare for action.

  The bolt on the door drew back. The great structure swung open, and a dark-skinned guard entered the room. Unlike the rest of the sentries in the Menagerie, this fellow wore a khaki uniform.

  Alton tensed. What now?

  Mallory and Mastana rushed into the cell, throwing their arms around their family members. Their janitorial uniforms needed no explanation.

  As glad as he was to see Mallory, Alton realized that everyone but Silva was now trapped in the cell with a guard standing at its entrance.

  “It’s all right,” said Mallory. “He’s helping us.”

  Alton must have looked confused, for the man extended a hand and spoke without further prompting. “I’m Kevin Lutana. The ladies here explained to me what Farid Safi is up to—and what you’re trying to do to stop it. Looks like I’d been backing the wrong team, only I didn’t know it ‘til yesterday.”

  Alton grasped the man’s hand. “Glad to have your help. Now let’s get the hell out of here before we’re blocked in.”

  They rushed from the room, but instead of turning left, to exit the dead-end hallway, Mallory veered to the right.

  “Wait—” began Alton.

  “I’ll explain in a second,” said Mallory, stepping halfway into the hallway’s last room. “Let’s get out of sight first.”

  They bolted into the room and pulled the door shut.

  Mallory handed David and Alton two of the red EG uniforms. “Those guys won’t be needing these.” She pointed to two bound figures on the floor, now stripped down to their t-shirts and skivvies. “We might as well use their uniforms to get out of here.”

  “What about me?” asked Gilbert.

  “You’ll be the prisoner we’ll be leading away at gunpoint,” said Alton.

  “I’m not crazy about having a gun pointed at me, but I don’t have any better ideas.”

  Being the larger of the two, David took the uniform formerly occupied by the rugby player.

  As Alton dressed himself in the other uniform, Kevin examined him with furrowed eyebrows.

  “It’s not a perfect fit,” said Kevin, “but it’ll do. My bigger worry is you don’t look like the rest of the EGs.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Alton.

  “Those EG folks were all brought in from somewhere else. I’d say the Middle East, judging from their accents.”

  Alton laced his shoes and nodded. “Makes sense. They’re probably Safi’s cronies from his Pasha Tech days—Al-Qaeda workers he knew would be loyal to him and his real project.”

  Kevin squinted, deep in thought. “Maybe. They talk in some kind of Middle Eastern language to each other.”

  Alton and David strapped on the pistol belts, finishing their preparations.

  “Not much more we can do about our appearance,” said Alton. “We’ll just have to hope no one looks too closely.”

  “Yeah, all of us,” said Mallory, holding up a sleeve rolled up three times to fit her diminutive arm.

  They crept from the room and headed toward the end of their short hallway.

  “The lo
ading docks will be the quickest way out of here,” said Kevin as they walked. “Take a left on the main hall and go down forty or fifty meters.”

  “Got it,” said Alton. “Janitors first, then the rest of us.”

  Peering around the corner to the right, Alton observed several workers of different-colored uniforms scurrying in different directions.

  He also saw a group of five or six EGs barreling down the hall in their direction. A pair of workers in lab coats jumped out of their way to avoid the oncoming rush.

  “We have to leave,” said Alton. “Now!”

  He took a left onto the main hallway, heading away from the EGs, but stopped and glanced around. “Wait. Where’s Silva?”

  A third outdoor blast, this one noticeably closer, rocked the Menagerie, sending tremors through the structure. The EGs pulled up in confusion.

  “Out there,” replied Mallory, thumbing over her shoulder. “She really outdid herself.”

  Alton nodded. “Head to the loading dock. And don’t run. We don’t want to draw attention to ourselves.”

  Mastana and Mallory left with their mop bucket and trashcan, headed for the rear of the building. The rest of the team followed a moment later.

  Alton kept his Beretta trained on Gilbert, careful to keep his finger off the trigger. Only a few more seconds, and they’d be out the loading dock’s enormous door.

  A pair of EGs stepped around the corner. Ignoring the janitors, they approached Alton’s group and stopped within a few paces.

  The one wearing an officer’s insignia examined Alton and David through narrowed eyes. “Who are you?”

  “Newbies,” said Alton. “The Director wanted to beef up security, so he’s bringing in more men.”

  The officer looked unconvinced. “Where are you taking this prisoner? The Director ordered me to keep them locked up until further notice.”

  “This is further notice. The Director ordered me to take this one in for interrogation.”

  “Vaziri’s room is back that way,” said the officer, gesturing the opposite direction down the hall.

  “Is it?” said Alton. “I haven’t had a chance to memorize the layout of this place yet.”

  He turned around as if to lead Gilbert back into the Menagerie. The five guards who had been distracted by the explosion had resumed their course and were now only seconds away.

  The officer sneered. “I wonder about the quality of the new men.”

  “I’d worry about the quality of the old ones,” said Alton.

  He swiveled his pistol and fired. The blast recoiled the Beretta in Alton’s hand and sent the EG officer hurling backwards onto the floor. Before the man’s companion could unholster his pistol, Alton fired again, twisting the man sideways. The EG guard slumped to the floor into a pool of expanding blood.

  The five approaching EGs began to shout in a foreign tongue.

  “They are saying to kill you!” called Mastana from behind.

  As they ran towards the NSA team, the EGs spread out into a line and began to withdraw their pistols.

  “Drop!” yelled Mallory.

  Alton and David fell to the floor.

  Gilbert continued to stand, mouth agape. Alton reached up a hand, grabbed him by the belt, and pulled him to the floor.

  A blast of A4 fire erupted from behind them.

  One of the EGs pulled up, grasping his arm. To Alton’s right, a blast from David sent the wounded EG crashing backwards onto the floor in a heap.

  Three of the remaining EGs dropped to prone positions. The last ducked into a side hallway, using it as cover.

  Firearm blasts roared through the hallway like thunder as both teams opened up with their weapons.

  In the Army, Alton had qualified as an expert in pistol marksmanship. He put this skill to use with deadly accuracy. An EG hugging the left wall slumped over as one of Alton’s rounds found his temple. Seconds later, another grasped at his throat to stem the rhythmic projection of blood spurting from his carotid artery.

  An ear-splitting alarm began to sound inside the building. Over the wail, the sound of gunshots continued to ring out.

  A pistol shot from behind Alton—it had to be Mastana—sent pieces of drywall flying around the EG standing in the side corridor.

  The man ducked back into safety for a moment but soon peeked his head around the corner from a kneeling position. A volley of blasts puckered the drywall and caved in the man’s cheek. He remained in a crouched position as he sprawled backwards to the floor.

  “Ah!” exclaimed Kevin.

  Alton glanced over to his right and saw Kevin grasp a bloody wound on his left forearm. But there was no time to help him—not yet.

  The last EG, who had just reloaded, crouched behind a small aluminum table he had tipped sideways for cover. He sent sparks flying around David’s head.

  Mallory pounded the EG’s position with her A4. Her rounds chewed up the table’s thin metal surface and silenced the EG within seconds.

  No more gunfire could be heard over the wailing siren. The EG with the artery wound emitted a final, feeble chest heave and dropped face forward into an expanding pool of crimson fluid.

  “Gather their weapons and ammo,” said Alton, pointing to the fallen EGs. “I’ll take a look at Kevin.”

  Alton scurried over to his new acquaintance. “How’re you feeling?”

  Kevin’s screwed up his face in pain. “It hurts like nothing else. Like being burned, only worse.”

  Mastana came to stand by Alton’s side, worry etched in her face. “Will he…live?”

  “Yeah,” said Alton. He hoped his smile was as reassuring as he meant it to be. “This is just a flesh wound. I saw soldiers recover from a lot worse back in Afghanistan.”

  Mastana nodded. Having once been a patient under Alton’s care, she was bound to believe his assessment.

  “Can you get me some cloth to bind this with?” asked Alton. More to himself, he added, “I wish I had a first aid kit.”

  “Look next to the door at the loading dock,” said Kevin through clenched teeth. “All the major exits have them.”

  “We’ll get it on the way out,” said Alton. “Right now I just want to put enough compression on this wound to get it to stop bleeding.”

  “Wait,” said David. “Where’s the guy who was hiding in the hallway? The one who was shot in the cheek?”

  Everyone looked. Streaks of blood stained the floor tiles where the EG had fallen, but the man himself was nowhere to be seen.

  “We can’t worry about that now,” said Alton. “Let’s go before others arrive.”

  Mastana returned with a few strips of cloth she had cut from the janitor’s uniform using one of the field knives she and Mallory had carried from the SUV.

  Alton bound Kevin’s wound with the makeshift bandage, cinching the strips of cloth with a tight square knot. He helped the youth to his feet.

  The alarm stopped as suddenly as it had started. The deafening silence seemed more ominous than had the siren.

  “Let’s go,” said Alton. “We’re not out of this yet.”

  CHAPTER 75

  The group set off down the hall towards the loading dock.

  “Alton,” said Mallory. “Are we leaving?”

  “We have to,” he replied. “It’s just a matter of time before more EGs discover our shootout and come looking for us.”

  “But what about the Tears of God project? Most of the EGs are still looking for us outside, where Silva set off the explosives. This is our best chance to find out what Safi’s really up to.”

  “I agree, but how can we do that and still get out of here? They’ll be converging on this position, and there’s only one way out.” He nodded towards the enormous loading-dock doors. “As much as I want to find out, I’m more interested in keeping you and the rest of the team alive.”

  “Wait!” said Kevin as the band neared the first of several steel rollaway doors. “There are automated elevators that take supplies from here to the ro
oms where they’re needed. Very high tech. They’re not made to carry humans, but if we crouched down…”

  “Show me,” said Alton.

  Kevin moved to a solid metal floor plate. A placard with “Inventory Distribution System” was mounted to the nearby wall.

  “If we use this thing, how do we know we’ll be delivered to an unoccupied room?” asked Mallory.

  “You don’t,” said Kevin.

  “We’ll take our chances,” said Alton. He turned to Mastana. “Do you have any more of those strips of cloth?”

  “Yes,” she replied, withdrawing a handful from the deep pocket of her janitor’s uniform.

  “Good.” Alton took three of them. “Kevin, come with me. We’re going to make a little diversion. David, grab our gear out of that trashcan Mastana was pushing around, then bring it over to me.”

  Alton limped over to the edge of the loading dock. Next to the cargo entrance stood a standard-sized door with concrete stairs leading to the ground outside.

  “C’mon,” said Alton, leading Kevin down the first few steps. He untied the knot of the old bandage and placed the blood-soaked cloth at the bottom of the railing, at the foot of the last step.

  Alton swathed Kevin’s wound in a new bandage and led him back up the stairs, just in time to meet David.

  “Push the trashcan over the edge,” said Alton. “If word got back to the EGs that some of us are dressed as janitors, they’ll see that and think we’ve gone back outside.”

  David gave the container a heave. It tipped over and fell with a whump onto the asphalt surface below.

  They headed back to rejoin the others.

  “Do you know how to work this thing?” Alton asked Kevin, gesturing to the elevator.

  “Not really, but we can figure it out. It doesn’t seem too complicated.”

  “I think I understand,” said Mastana. “Here is a map of the building. Each room is labeled with a letter and a number. You press this button that says ‘initiate’, key in the number of the room you want your things delivered to, press this other button that says ‘deliver’, and the elevator goes there.”