Nightstalkers a5-10

by Bob Mayer

  “He wouldn’t booby-trap his escape route,” Nada said. “He’d have to get out fast.”

  “So we can get in fast,” Kirk said.

  Moms turned to Mac. “We can’t blow it up into a thousand pieces, because we won’t know exactly what piece the Firefly is in. Besides, it would muck up our concealment.”

  “Implosion,” Mac said, staring at the house.

  “How are we going to implode it?” Nada asked.

  “Like they take down old skyscrapers and stadiums,” Mac said. “Blow up the internal support so it falls into itself. Also keeps dust and debris to a minimum so we can spot the Firefly dissipating.” He nodded at Scout. “I go in via the tunnel. Plant the charges and rig them in sequence.”

  “No,” Moms said.

  “It’s the last Firefly,” Mac said. He looked past them at Emily. “We take it out, we empty your golf cart. Party like it’s 1948.”

  Emily was shaking her head, having no idea what they were talking about, but not buying into it for a moment.

  “We’ve got containment,” Nada said. “Concealment, we do our best at. Mac’s right.”

  “Mac’s wounded,” Moms said.

  “I’m wounded,” Kirk said. “So I go with him. We’re expendable.”

  “No one is expendable,” Moms said.

  Ms. Jones’s voice came over the radio and Moms glared at Kirk, realizing he’d opened the channel back to the Ranch.

  “Do not be angry with Mister Kirk,” Ms. Jones said. “You violated Protocol and I told him to keep the channel open. It seems the rules are changing. That is not necessarily a bad thing. I agree with Mister Mac. You will use the rest of the team to provide a diversion while they take down this last target.”

  Moms opened her mouth to speak, but the click indicated the channel was closed at Ms. Jones’s end.

  “All right,” Nada said. “The rest of us have to provide a diversion.”

  “For a Firefly?” Eagle asked.

  “It’s been watching us,” Nada said. “It’ll be diverted.” He looked at Moms. “What do you have in mind?”

  Everyone turned to Moms, who regrouped quickly. “Football. I saw one in the garage.”

  “No one plays football in the streets here,” Scout said.

  “Exactly.”

  Mac turned to Emily. “May we borrow your cart to get to the sand trap? Ours got busted up.”

  She said nothing, but stood out of the entry to the mudroom and, beyond it, the garage. The rest of the team prepped their weapons and put them right inside the front double doors of the Winslow house. They changed into shorts and T-shirts. Mac and Kirk prepared the charges.

  Moms got on the radio and, just in case, had the howitzer ready, loaded with an Excalibur round and five more on call. She called Support and made sure they had taken over the local fire department. Gas leak was going to be the reason Forrenzo’s house imploded. It wouldn’t pass muster with an expert, but Support had replaced all the experts.

  Kirk went upstairs and propped the laser designator up and turned it on, aiming at the center of the house. Mac set up a Javelin in the garage behind one of the doors and gave Nada the remote for both the door and the Javelin.

  As Mac and Kirk went out the back golf cart garage, the rest of the team went out the front door.

  Roland carried the football as he went to the middle of the road with Nada, Eagle, Moms, Emily, Scout, and Doc.

  “Go for a long one,” Roland told Eagle.

  Nada saw that the camera in the nearest corner of the house was panning over them, and as Eagle ran down the street, the one on the other corner tracked him. Roland let loose with a tight spiral and Eagle caught it.

  “Traffic,” Moms called out.

  The same BMW came rolling down the street and slowed, window rolling down.

  “Hey, Doctor Carruthers!” Scout called out.

  “Hey,” Roland waved. “Good to see you again.”

  “Yeah.” Carruthers was looking at Nada and Eagle and Doc and it was just one ethnic group too many for him, here in Senators Club. “More relatives, Greer?”

  “Oh, no,” Scout said. “My uncle George here is a football coach and these guys played for him years ago. They’re having a reunion.”

  Carruthers focused on Roland as he heaved another bomb to Eagle.

  “I’d take the over on my uncle George,” Scout said.

  Carruthers nodded. “Hell of an arm.”

  “The over?” Moms asked.

  “Hey, Aunt Betty,” Carruthers said. He laughed. “Greer, have you been talking out of house about my hobby?”

  Scout grinned mischievously. “My uncle might want to place some action with you later, if you’re up for it.”

  Carruthers nodded. “As long as you vouch for him.”

  He spotted Emily. “I know you, don’t I?”

  “Not really,” Emily said. “But I’m around.”

  A woman’s voice echoed down the street from three houses away. “Everything all right there?”

  Carruthers leaned his head out the window. “Friends of Greer’s, Mrs. Jordanson. Everything’s fine.”

  Mrs. Jordanson looked a bit doubtful, but went back into her house.

  Roland walked over to the car and started talking football with Carruthers while Nada took a pass from Eagle. His earpiece crackled with Kirk’s voice.

  “We’re in the tunnel.”

  * * *

  Mac led the way, searching for booby traps and trying to shake the sand out of his gear. The lights were off in the tunnel and he had his night-vision goggles on. His backpack was loaded with charges and Kirk brought up the rear, carrying the rest.

  Twenty feet in, Mac halted. The tunnel might not be booby-trapped, but Forrenzo wasn’t stupid. Mac could see the unblinking red light of a video camera about forty feet ahead and a motion detector ten feet in front of it.

  “We set that off,” Mac was pointing, “the lights go, and the camera sees us.”

  “What do we do?” Kirk asked.

  “I’ll disable it. You wait here.”

  Mac put his pack down carefully, then went belly down on the floor of the tunnel and ever so slowly crept up on the motion detector.

  * * *

  Carruthers drove off, convinced he had Uncle George as another sucker willing to hand him money.

  “Emily, take Scout inside and stay there. Things could get messy soon.”

  Emily and Scout went back into the Winslow house, but took up positions near the front window, watching. The four Nightstalkers looked very out of place tossing a football around, but the cameras were watching them.

  “You like Mac?” Scout asked.

  “He’s nice,” Emily said.

  Scout looked at Emily. “He’s cute.”

  “He’s not what you think,” Emily said. “He pretends real well. No one else on the team sees it. And that matters not in the slightest. He’s a soldier. And he’s putting his life on the line.”

  Scout nodded sagely. “They’re very good at what they do, but in terms of the things they don’t do, they’re not the sharpest knives in the drawers.”

  * * *

  Mac had the motion detector off-line in twelve seconds. It was hard working at close quarters using night-vision goggles and depth perception was off a bit, but he got it done. He walked back to Kirk and shrugged his backpack full of explosives back on. They moved down the tunnel, past the camera.

  Forrenzo didn’t leave his back door open. Mac pulled out his set of picks and tossed the tumblers. This took longer than usual as Forrenzo didn’t go cheap in the lock department.

  “We’re in,” Mac said, opening the heavy steel door.

  And promptly got slammed back as a burst of automatic fire hit him in the chest, pounding into his body armor. Kirk dove to the floor, firing over Mac’s falling body.

  * * *

  Nada heard the muffled sound of automatic fire and knew the charade was over. He raced to the house where Scout and Emily wait
ed, handing weapons out as they ran into the garage, piling into the SUVs as the doors opened. They peeled out into the street and over to the golf course, tires tearing up the perfectly manicured grass. As Scout had said, a gaping dark hole beckoned in the sand trap, a trap door and a pile of sand to the side.

  Nada led the way, the others following.

  They got to the end of the tunnel where Mac was sitting with his back against the wall and Kirk was framed in the doorway, weapon at the ready.

  “What happened?” Moms demanded.

  “Mac took a couple of rounds to the chest. Nothing got through the armor, but he’s pretty beat up.” He jerked a thumb into the basement of the house. “Forrenzo had an AK-47 rigged to fire if the door was opened from the outside. I blew it apart.”

  Doc was kneeling next to Mac, peeling open his body armor. Ugly welts were already forming where the rounds had impacted. Mac ignored Doc and struggled to his feet.

  “Let’s blow this son-of-a-bitch up,” Mac said. “My experience is that there shouldn’t be any more booby traps inside the house. People don’t like to trip over something in the middle of the night in their own house and kill themselves.”

  Moms issued orders. “Kirk, stay with Mac. You too, Doc. The rest, clear the house, make sure we’re not taking any people with the house and Firefly. Watch out for Forrenzo if he’s still alive and in here. He’ll be armed and won’t hesitate to shoot.”

  They moved into the basement. A concrete wall was in one corner with a large vault door on it. Forrenzo’s stash of who knew what instruments of death. Roland looked longingly at it, but stayed on task.

  Mac and Kirk moved in, headed for the first support column as Roland took point up the stairs, Nada, Eagle, and Moms following. They reached the door to the main level. Nada pointed at himself and indicated number one, then at Roland for number two.

  Nada crouched down as Roland kicked open the door. They went in, Nada low and Roland, with one hand on Nada’s shoulder, high. They quartered the room, a classic room-clearing technique as taught in the Killing House. Moms and Eagle followed, over-watch, scanning up and then hard to the sides.

  In the basement, Mac was staring at a steel bracing going up to a crossbeam, slightly puzzled, explosive charge in hand.

  “What’s wrong?” Kirk asked.

  “It’s not right,” Mac said. He began tapping on the column, ear pressed up against the side.

  Above them, first floor cleared, they made it to the second floor with no sign of Forrenzo or anyone else.

  “Why isn’t the Firefly attacking us?” Nada asked as the paused in the wide hallway. The interior of the house was full of paintings, sculptures, and other items the newly rich acquired to prove to themselves and others they were rich. Or else they liked art.

  “We’re inside the security system,” Moms said. “The Firefly has got to be in it, not in the actual house. Like Mac said, security is oriented outward, not inward.”

  * * *

  In the basement, Kirk pulled out his knife and scraped away at the side of the pillar. “Doc, get out of here.” He keyed his radio. “Moms, withdraw, withdraw, withdraw. Confirm? Over.”

  There was nothing but static. He looked up and saw that the steel sheathing covered the insulation. Forrenzo had shielded the room to prevent imaging from penetrating and also for giving him a tempest-proof area to work: secure from listening devices and taps.

  Mac’s digging yielded what he feared. A series of wires. “Kirk, go upstairs and get everyone. ASAP. They need to get down here and get the hell out.”

  As Doc hurried out the tunnel, Kirk took the stairs three at a time, ignoring the shooting pain from his broken ribs. He looked about the first level as he keyed his radio. “Withdraw, withdraw!” he called out over the radio.

  “Withdrawing,” Moms’s voice said, and the thunder of boots running reverberated through the house. The team came down the stairs in a hurry, but orderly.

  Kirk was staring at a bronze of a Native American on a rearing horse, a lance in one hand.

  “Crazy Horse,” Roland said as he ran by.

  Kirk fell into the rear and they made it into the basement. Moms waved for everyone to hit the tunnel and came up to Kirk.

  “You got all the explosives in place and wired it already?”

  Mac didn’t turn from what he was doing, but briefly waved his wiring pliers at his rucksack, which still bulged with explosives. “The house is already wired. Forrenzo wasn’t going to leave any evidence if he had to bolt out of here. I’m amazed the Firefly didn’t blow it down on top of us. Still could. Go!”

  Moms ran to the tunnel door. She paused, looking over her shoulder at Mac hard at work, then followed the rest of the team. She stumbled out into darkness, where the team had gathered in the sand trap.

  “What’s going on?” Nada asked.

  “The house is—” Moms began, and then there was a series of muffled concussions followed by a rumbling sound.

  Looking back, the entire Forrenzo house shivered, then began crumbling inward, roof first, then outer walls.

  “Mac!” Roland ran back into the tunnel.

  “Roland, stop!” Moms called out, but it was too late.

  A blast of dust and debris came jetting out of the tunnel a few seconds later.

  Thirty seconds later a dust-covered Roland came out, once more carrying a protesting Mac in his arms.

  Moms breathed a huge sigh of relief.

  The last of Forrenzo’s house crumpled inward.

  Nada was watching carefully, along with Eagle.

  “There!” Nada pointed. A Firefly lifted out of the rubble and then slowly dissipated.

  * * *

  In the lab, Burns and the four Ivars paused. “They’ll be on their way soon.”

  The Ivars got back on task.

  Burns checked his watch. The original Ivar had been gone too long. The kid was too terrified to not follow orders.

  Which meant something had happened to him.

  Burns went to the door and opened it. He stepped into the dark hallway, an emergency exit sign at the far end the only source of light.

  He pulled out his cell phone and hit quick dial.

  It was answered on the second ring. “Yes?”

  “Mister Forrenzo. Please come to the University of North Carolina. The physics research building. Call me when you arrive outside. I will meet you.”

  “I want—” the Russian began to protest, but Burns hit the off button. He opened the steel door and laid his cell on the ground, wedging it open so it could still get a signal.

  “Faster!” Burns yelled.

  * * *

  Roland laid Mac down, and Doc got to checking his latest wounds, which mostly seemed to be his old ones aggravated and some scrapes and bruises from being blown down by the blast in the tunnel. And the bruises from the AK rounds.

  “We did it,” Roland said. “We got ’em all.”

  Mac lifted his head. “He had the entire basement lined with incendiaries. Whatever was in that vault will be nothing but melted scrap.”

  There was a muffled explosion. “Secondary ignition,” Mac said. “It’s going to burn now.”

  “Looks like Fireflies aren’t suicide bombers,” Nada said. “It could have gotten all of us in there if it had set off the charges.”

  Two figures appeared out of the darkness: Scout and Emily.

  “I told you to stay at the house,” Moms said, but there was no disapproval in her voice.

  “Did you get it?” Scout asked.

  “We got it,” Nada said.

  A fire chief’s Blazer came roaring up and Cleaner got out on his prosthetics. “Hell of a gas explosion,” he said. He looked them over. “Need medevac?”

  “I think we’re good for now,” Moms said.

  Cleaner looked dubious, but got back into the Blazer and headed for the fire.

  Emily knelt next to Mac. “Are you all right?”

  “Just banged up a bit,” Mac said, str
uggling to a sitting position. “I could use a cold one.”

  “I think we all could,” Moms said.

  Emily went to her cart and opened the cooler and passed out beers — and a soda to Scout.

  Mac lifted the beer, wincing as he did so. “To the Nightstalkers.” He tilted it toward Scout and Emily. “And Assets.”

  Everyone lifted their drinks to the toast. Except Kirk. He was staring at the house, shaking his head. An intense blaze was now roaring straight up.

  “What’s wrong?” Moms asked Kirk.

  “Crazy Horse,” Kirk said.

  “That was a nice bronze,” Roland agreed. “And I bet he had some good stuff in that arms room.”

  Kirk turned from the house and looked at everyone. “We’ve been chasing Crazy Horse.”

  Scout was the first to get it. “Fetterman. He chased the wrong thing. The real battle is somewhere else.”

  CHAPTER 27

  “But—” Nada began, but then Kirk held up his hand with the PRT on the wrist and pressed a button. Ms. Jones’s voice came over the net.

  “Support got into Doctor Winslow’s phone. Just before the Rift opened he was communicating with a student of his named Ivar. He was directing Ivar to place dampers on a computer at his lab. A computer that had a copy of the Rift program on it.”

  “Fuck me to tears,” Nada said.

  “Language,” Moms said without any conviction. “But Ms. Jones, Support checked his lab. There was nothing suspicious.”

  “The number Doctor Winslow was calling wasn’t to his regular lab. We’ve tracked the line. It’s a landline wired into the basement of that building. He had a lab we didn’t check out, where this Ivar was working.”

  Moms turned to the team. “Gear up. These were just the battles. We’ve got to finish the war now.”

  “There’s something else,” Ms. Jones said. “We tracked the money that was paid to Burns for the hard drive. It came from Doctor Winslow’s account, but it was wired in there immediately before from another account. From Forrenzo’s account.”

  Nada stared at the blazing house as the rest of the team began loading the SUVs. “Winslow went to Forrenzo for the money,” Moms said.