“How many men and vamps inside the building?” Michael queried.
Before Bordeaux could answer, one of the techs hit a button, and the tactical display changed color, showing a number of blotches of green over the warehouse of varying intensities. David looked at the screen, which looked distinctly like an IR image.
“One of the American satellites we grabbed footage from had thermal scanners,” the tech told them all. “The bright blotches are either normal guys or possibly Empowered lackeys,” he explained. “This group”—he gestured at a cluster of bright blotches—“is in an area the plans of the building show as a large storage closet and they aren’t moving around as much as the rest—probably prisoners.
“These, however,” the tech continued, and five darker blotches of green were suddenly surrounded by blinking blue circles, “have body temperatures much lower than anybody else. Probably at about the twenty-two Celsius mark,” he finished. David took a moment to convert the temperature in his head, and then nodded his understanding.
“Vampires,” Michael said coldly.
“Five of them,” Bordeaux confirmed. “Nothing has left the building since this picture was taken that could have concealed a vampire, and only two normals have left. Based off the thermals and our observations, there are forty-four ordinary men and women in there, nine of whom appear to be prisoners, and five vamps.”
“Doable,” Michael replied, looking at the map again. “Can you integrate this with our combat information system?”
“Your Charles just emailed the interface software to us,” the tech told him. “You’ll have the area map, the satellite photos, and our analysis sent to you real-time.”
David liked the sound of that kind of connectedness, though he had to wonder if the tech would be as enthused with the software if he knew that Charles was a twenty-foot-long, fire-breathing dragon.
“Thank you,” the werewolf told them. “How long till sundown?”
Bordeaux checked the sky and then his watch.
“About ninety minutes.”
“Then what’s the plan?” Michael asked the Canadians. “We’ve got ourselves a Very Important Vampire to properly welcome to your fine city.”
“Our observers are also our snipers,” Bordeaux told the Americans bluntly. “As soon as we’re there, they will take out the exterior guards, clearing us our way in. There are two major and three minor entrances.” The Sergeant-Major highlighted the doors on the map.
“The loading dock is our best point of ingress, and I want to put two of my squads—twenty men—and most of your team there,” Bordeaux continued. “The main entrance, here”—he highlighted two sets of double doors—“is covered by four snipers, and I’ll put my heavy weapons squad there. Two silver-loaded machine guns and an AG-shrapnel grenade launcher should discourage any attempt to escape through there.
“These two entrances here and here are closest to where the vamps are located, and are probably their first lines of escape,” the Canadian continued, highlighting the doors. “I’m putting my best teams at them. I will be accompanying my Alpha squad, and I’d like you, Commander, to accompany Bravo.”
“Certainly,” Michael agreed.
David looked over the map, committing it—and the plan—to memory. It all sounded good to him.
“The last entrance is here, at the very back of the warehouse,” Bordeaux told them, dropping a last highlight onto the screen, and David looked at it carefully. “There is a guard on it, but it’s far away from most of the folks inside the building. We’ve only got one sniper covering it, however, and the team covering it is my only supernatural-less team. I’d like one of your people to provide them with support, just in case.”
Michael looked back at the team, and David met his Commander’s eyes squarely as they fell on him. At the back, out of the way and lowest risk sounded like the perfect place to put your greenest team member, and David knew it. He didn’t particularly like it, but he did know it.
“Agent White,” the werewolf barked.
“Sir!” David responded crisply.
“You’ll accompany…” Michael paused and looked at Bordeaux. “…which team, Sergeant-Major?”
“My Epsilon squad,” Bordeaux told them.
“The Mounties’ Epsilon squad,” Michael finished. “You’ll keep them safe, and they’ll keep you safe, clear?”
“As crystal, sir,” David replied. On the one hand, he was disappointed in the fact that he was being removed from the main fight as a possible liability. On the other hand…only the greatest strength of willpower kept his hand from touching the scars on his neck. He remembered vampire bites. Unprofessional as it was, he both hated and feared vampires. The entire “species,” such as it was.
“Agent Mason,” Michael continued, turning to Kate. “You’ll take command of the rest of Strike Nine and accompany the main strike force. I will accompany Bravo squad.”
“Understood,” the Mage replied crisply.
“Then let’s go join the people we’re riding with,” the werewolf Commander finished briskly. “We’ve got a lot of work to do, and only till sundown to do it!”
Chapter 21
David was pointed at Epsilon squad’s van, and made his way across the astonishingly clean alley to join them.
“I’m Agent David White, with ONSET,” he introduced himself. “I’m being assigned as your support.”
“Nice to see you, Agent White,” the team leader greeted him. “I’m Sergeant Angela Devereux.”
In the heavy body armor the entire team wore, it was difficult to tell who other than the team leader was male or female, but Devereux had her helmet off, and the tight-wrapped braid of blond hair around her head hinted at sweeping waves of hair that would have left no doubt as to her gender. She smiled at David, and he found himself smiling back unhesitatingly.
“Now you’re here,” she continued, “we should get a move on. We have the furthest to go.” The blonde leader settled her helmet with its Plexiglas visor on her head and turned to her team. “Let’s get going, people! We have some sang to uninfect—the hard way!”
The Mountie team was on their feet immediately, doing final checks on their weapons as they efficiently trooped into the back of the unmarked powder-blue van. David found their obvious competence reassuring. He finished his own checks and joined the team in the van.
As soon as they were all settled in and the van started into motion, Devereux leaned over to touch her helmet to David’s so he could hear her over the sound of the van. She didn’t quite have her head on his shoulder, but the nearness sent an unexpected thrill through him, for which he scolded himself. He’d only just met this woman and was about to go into a fight. He didn’t have time to be distracted.
“Now, there’s something you need to understand before we get there,” she said softly.
“Yes, ma’am?” he asked, trying to subtly inform her that he did not intend to challenge her authority.
She laughed; a soft sound that seemed out of place in the well-armored fighter beside him. “Not a question of authority,” she told him. “Michael wouldn’t have assigned you to us if he thought you would cause problems.”
“You know Michael?” David asked, surprised. He presumed the werewolf had been to Canada before, but it seemed odd that anyone they were working with would have specifically heard of him.
“I was his Canadian liaison when the Brigadier commanded the Provisional Force in Montana,” the Mountie replied. “Yeah, I know him. But that’s not my point.”
Michael had commanded the Omicron force in Montana? As David thought back on what he’d learned about the Montana Incursion, he realized that there’d only ever been references to “the Brigadier,” and the leader’s name had never been mentioned. Another one of the secrets ONSET seemed to love, and another question mark about David’s Commander. Michael wasn’t a Brigadier anymore. When had he stopped being one—and why?
“What is it, then?” he asked, putting aside th
e question about Michael’s history.
“You have a full Omicron combat information suite,” Devereux said. It wasn’t a question. “You have full coms and minute-to-minute tactical updates. My men don’t.”
“I…see,” David replied. Now that he thought about it, it made sense. The fully upgraded combat information suite built into Omicron’s combat body armor was expensive, and even Omicron’s Anti-Paranormal troopers didn’t get the full deal.
“Now, I have a suit based on your Omicron gear and do have that coms and update capacity, but I’m the only one of the team other than you who does,” she told him. “If you see something I miss, or see anything you think my team needs to know, do not hesitate to tell them. Understood?”
“Yes, ma’am,” David confirmed. He hesitated for a moment, but something about this woman reassured him, so he continued. “I’m also mildly prescient,” he told her softly. “If I have enough warning of something, I will pass it on.”
“So, if you say something weird, we do it before asking why?” she asked, the slight smile audible in her voice though he couldn’t see it.
“That sums it up, yeah,” he agreed, somewhat self-consciously. He didn’t like people relying on his prescience, but it was too much of an edge to ignore.
Before either of them could say more, the van reached the last of the waypoints on his HUD and drifted to a stop.
“All right, people,” Devereux said over the squad radio channel. “We walk from here.”
#
The team disembarked from the van efficiently and spread out to cover the access points toward the warehouse. The Mounties kept full three hundred and sixty–degree surveillance as they moved toward the target, carefully keeping out of sight of a small restaurant on the corner they’d dismounted at.
They were perhaps a minute from the van when David spotted something that made the connection to Carderone even clearer—blocking half of the alley they were moving into was an eighteen-wheeler truck with a familiar black sun on the side. The ONSET Agent’s Sight didn’t show anything supernatural around this sun, part of the logo of a company called “Stellar Noir Shipping”.
As the Mounties’ team cleared the truck, a voice broke onto their channel.
“Epsilon-Lead, this is Eagle Five,” the observer/sniper reported. “A second guard is now covering the entrance. I can’t take both before one sounds the alarm.”
“Understood, Eagle Five,” Devereux said calmly over the radio and David was impressed with her cool. “We’ll take them close-range. Epsilon-Eight, Epsilon-Nine.”
That was all she said, but two of her men stopped and slung their MP5s over their shoulders, drawing heavy pistols and attaching ugly-looking silencers. Even knowing what was coming, the thought of the unexpected silent death that would have to claim the outside guards bothered David. He guessed he was still just too much a cop to be comfortable with shooting somebody without ordering them to surrender first.
The team moved silently along the back alley toward the warehouse. Eventually, David’s exceptional hearing caught the sound of voices ahead of them, and he raised his hand.
“Two men, about one hundred fifty meters that way,” he said softly, pointing toward where his enhanced senses had heard the speakers.
“We’ll advance thirty and I’ll try and get them on a directional mike,” Devereux ordered, removing that piece of equipment from her belt.
The team moved more slowly, drawing closer into range, until David could clearly see the guards standing in front of the old warehouse. Here, in this centuries-old city and industrial park, he almost felt hemmed in by the ancient brick and mortar, and the target complex looked no different from a hundred other century-old warehouses. David touched the team leader, pointing at the men against the brick wall, and Devereux raised the mike.
“Putains vampires,” a voice said harshly in David’s ears. “Quelque grand Don est ici du sud, et ils sont et ils capotent.”
“Ils sont patrons,” a second voice replied resignedly.
David glanced over at Devereux. “What are they saying?” he whispered over the radio, feeling somewhat helpless. He didn’t like relying on other people, though at least the Mountie officer was more reliable than most.
“They’re bitching about a Don from down south putting the vampires in an uproar,” she replied quietly. “These men are probably Mafia when the sang haven’t called them in.”
“They know who they work for?” David asked, stunned. The thought of anyone knowingly working for vampires horrified him. Suddenly, he didn’t feel quite so bad about the thought of snipers.
“At this level?” she replied. “Yes. Eight, Nine,” she continued, switching channels. “Infiltrate and disable.”
A pair of clicks on the radio was her only answer, but the two men holding the silenced pistols slipped away along the alley. David watched them go, his SMG unlocked and his Empowered senses stretching for the slightest sign that the guards knew what was coming. Even here, he could smell the river through the industrial smells and sounds. The river and someone’s salty, garlicky cooking. He focused his senses, keeping them on the guards and pushing away unnecessary input.
“Epsilon Team, report,” a call came over the radio, recognizably Bordeaux’s voice.
“This is Epsilon-Lead,” Devereux reported. “An additional guard joined our first one. I have men moving in to disable.”
“Understood,” the Sergeant-Major replied. “We’ll hold the snipers until your guards are down.”
Devereux clicked her radio but kept her gaze firmly set down the alley, to where the two guards stood outside the door. Their men were nearly invisible in their dark clothes.
It was, David reflected, scarily quiet. Even he could barely identify where the infiltrators were, and it was blatantly obvious that neither guard knew they were in danger before the two Mounties opened fire.
One guard had enough time to curse “Tabernac!” before a second shot ended any response; the other took the single round through the throat and dropped in silence. To David’s enhanced nose, the scent of blood filled the alley with an overpowering stench. The men’s sudden deaths bothered him, but he was surprised to find himself completely lacking in sympathy for men who knowingly served vampires.
“Targets down,” one of the two cops reported over the radio, and Devereux passed it on.
Moments later, a series of reports came over the command net that the snipers had taken the rest of the guards.
“Everyone, cover your entrances,” Bordeaux ordered over the radio. “The main team will enter in fifteen seconds.”
David checked the MP5 he was carrying and moved into a position pointed out by Devereux, joining the rest of the team in covering the entrance. He felt more than saw the team leader take up a position to his left, her weapon trained on the door as well.
“Epsilon-Lead,” Devereux reported. “We’re good to go.”
Moments after the last secondary team reported their readiness, an explosion tore through the night as the main team’s shaped charges blew in the main entrance.
Gunfire followed, and Epsilon team’s members quietly unlocked their weapons and aimed at the closed door in the old brick wall.
“We have entry,” a voice said over the radio. “Alpha team is moving to secure the prisoners.”
David hoped that Alpha team made it in time. Given that the vampires had to regard their prisoners as a renewable food source, there was a distinct possibility that someone would just shoot them all to stop them being rescued.
Swearing and gunfire over the radio interrupted his thought. Then a cry of “They’re coming out!” echoed over the radio, and the machine guns covering the front entrance opened up with a loud sound like tearing cloth.
“Tabernac,” someone shouted, and the radio crackled with the volume. “That sang is in body armor; the bullets aren’t slowing him.”
David winced, and his fingers tightened on his gun. He had his own area of responsibility
—the front guard team was Michael’s.
As if to finish his thought, the roar of a transforming werewolf echoed over the radio. There was a sharp curse from the machine-gunners, and silence from that team for a moment. Finally, “Front entrance secure” sounded over the radio in a voice that sounded slightly sick.
“This is Alpha Team,” another voice reported. “Prisoners are secured. We have one vampire down. Mason is damned fast with those fire bolts.”
Relief flooded David, both for the prisoners and for the news that Mason was okay. He didn’t know her well yet, but he’d already come to think of her as a dear friend, very much the “team’s little sister,” as Michael had described her at David’s first meeting.
“Bravo Team, reporting the main offices secure,” David heard Bourque’s voice. “Bravo lead is down, with two others, none dead. One vampire confirmed shish-kebabed. Looks like we got the files intact.”
“There are two more vampires,” Bordeaux snapped over the radio. “Find them, people!”
David reached out with his senses, trying to find any hint through his Sight or other enhanced senses as to where the vampires were. Around him, Epsilon team shifted slightly, the Mounties tightening their grip on their guns and moving slightly in toward the door. Suddenly, David’s Sight flashed a warning, and he knew they were too far in toward the door.
Even as he opened his mouth, it was already too late. As soon as one of the cops came close enough to reach the door, it suddenly exploded outward in a hail of shrapnel and ball bearings as the claymores someone had attached to the other side detonated.
Three of the Mounties went down in the explosion, and two men came charging out on its heels. David fired quickly as they charged out, his three-round burst catching one in the upper chest and throwing him back into the building. He knew that he would see the man’s face again in his dreams, but the death flashed by so fast he barely had time to realize he’d shot someone.
David hit the ground as the other man sprayed the alleyway with fully automatic fire until his gun clicked on empty and he charged Devereux. The Mountie leader calmly shot him in the face as he did, but over half her team was down now, moaning and wounded.
ONSET: To Serve and Protect Page 19
