“What do you mean… asset?”
“I belong to DARPA,” Egan explained. “The Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency of the United States.”
“The American military think tank?” Hernando asked.
“The same,” Egan replied. “I’m kind of a secret experiment that went off the rails.”
“And this project gave you these powers?”
“And then some.”
Hernando crossed himself. “Dios mío,” he said.
“God had nothing to do with it,” Egan said. “This was all manmade.”
Hernando and Egan heard car doors slam outside. Mendoza and his men were making their arrival known.
A motion sensor light affixed atop a pole at the entrance to the compound flickered to life and bathed the grounds in a pale-yellow glow.
Mendoza looked up. “Take it out,” he ordered.
Matias raised his weapon, shot out the light. Shards of shattered glass rained down, tinkled on the roof of the Hummer.
“Let’s get this over with,” Mendoza said. He issued the order. “Take them.”
As several of the men climbed the fence and stood beside the woodpile in front of the gate, Egan and Hernando ran down the hall to the main entrance of the building where the car battery sat on the floor. Four lines of electrical cable leading inside from their covert burial points on the grounds, their ends stripped down to the bare copper wire, lay on the wooden floor. Egan picked up the line he needed and touched the copper wire to the battery.
The connection was made, the circuit completed.
Through the window, Hernando watched the propane cylinder hidden in the woodpile suddenly explode. A tremendous boom! rocked the orphanage. Three of Mendoza’s men were thrown high into the air by the concussive force of the blast and landed motionless in the middle of the property.
“Cover!” Matias yelled. He threw himself on top of his boss, took him to the ground, protected him from the catastrophic explosion.
Mendoza clambered to his feet and took stock of his team. Three of his men lay on the ground. Neither offered a cry for help nor made a sound. One man had his arm ripped from his body in the unexpected blast. They were most likely dead, Diego thought. No matter. If they couldn’t get back in the fight, they were of no further use to him, anyway.
Alonzo Perez’s four men fell back, took cover behind their vehicles. “What are you doing?” Perez yelled. “Get in there! Find the sonofabitch! Kill him!”
Egan stared out the window, observed the human destruction the makeshift bomb had caused, calculated his next move. “What do you call three dead bad guys, Hernando?” he said.
The old man didn’t answer. He stared in disbelief at the dead men laying on his property. The severity of the situation set in. They were engaged in all-out war now.
“A good start,” Egan said.
Outside, Perez’s men advanced into the compound. One two-man team broke right, made it to the main building, then dropped low and hugged the wall as they crept toward the back door. The second team spread out. One man found cover behind the slide in the children’s play area, the other the side of the work shed.
Egan knew what was coming. “Get down!” he yelled. He pulled Hernando to the floor, held him down as round after round of automatic gunfire ripped through the walls of the building. When the assault had finally ended, the old man dared to look up. When he did, he witnessed the most incredible sight. A translucent wall of pink light surrounded them. Beyond the light, dozens of spent slugs littered the floor. Not one had penetrated the spectacular force field. Suddenly the barrier consumed itself and disappeared.
“You okay?” Egan whispered.
Hernando nodded. He picked up one of the slugs. The words stumbled out of his mouth. “There was a light… the bullets, they just bounced off… how did you…”
“Like I said,” Egan replied, “I’ve had a few upgrades.” The commander peered out one of the bullet holes. The two men came out of hiding, removed their spent clips, slammed fresh magazines into the assault rifles, racked the weapons and were advancing on the building. A secondary assault was imminent. “Stay down,” Egan warned.
The old man nodded.
Egan rolled across the floor, picked up one of the electrical wires, positioned it over the battery terminal, peered out a hole in the wall, waited. “Closer…” he said.
The men moved forward cautiously, then stopped and listened.
“Come on,” Egan said. “Just one more step.”
One of the men looked at his partner, raised his hand, signaled his authorization to continue.
“That’s good,” Egan whispered. “Come to daddy, you sonofabitch.”
The men raised their weapons, prepared to fire.
Egan touched the electrical lead to the car battery.
From his vantage point inside the building, Egan watched the propane tank ignite inside the van. The explosion ripped the vehicle apart, tossing it high into the air. Pieces of the rusty old vehicle whistled though the air and lodged in the supply shed wall. The force of the blast blew out the front window of the building. Egan looked outside. The would-be assassins were nowhere to be seen. They had been standing beside the van at the exact second the detonation had occurred. The weapon one of the men had been carrying lay on the ground where the van once stood. Their chance of surviving such a blast at ground zero was impossible. They were gone.
Two men remained. Egan moved to the rear door of the building, listened.
Bullets shot from the high-powered weapons of the two-man assault team had tore clean through the wooden structure and left splintered holes in the back walls.
Egan heard moaning sounds, coming from outside. He raised his hand, activated Channeler. The back wall reflected the rose-red glow emanating from his palms. He threw open the door.
The two men lay on the ground, victims of friendly fire. The assailants had underestimated the power of the M-16’s. The rounds had traveled through the building and out the back wall, striking and wounding the second assault team.
Egan stepped outside. As one of the men raised his weapon the second tried to crawl away. Egan pulled the gun from his hands. “You two don’t get off that easy,” he said. He shot each man in the head, threw the weapon on the ground, then stepped back inside to check on Hernando.
“I heard gunfire,” Hernando said. “Are you okay?”
“Fine,” Egan replied. “I’m bulletproof, remember?”
“About that,” Hernando said. “How did you…?”
From outside came the crack of a gunshot.
Egan watched his friend crumple to the floor.
Hernando had been hit.
CHAPTER 36
HAVING REACHED the San Gabriel Mountain region, Elton Mannafort drove the police sedan off the highway and followed the bumpy road to his cabin deep in the woods, avoiding teeth-chattering potholes and negotiating half a dozen blind turns along the way. This part of the region lacked the cover of tall trees. Instead, chaparral and other dense shrubs, as well as alder and cottonwood trees, provided vegetation. Elton parked the car under the canopy of a drooping willow.
He looked over his shoulder, called back to the children. “We’re here.”
Aiden shifted in his seat and felt his cellphone in his back pocket. Many times on the drive he’d wanted to take it out, turn it on and try to contact his mother, but the creep glanced frequently in his rear-view mirror, checking on them.
Now was the time. As the man fiddled with his car keys and collected his satchel from the passenger seat, Aiden slipped the phone out of his pocket, turned the ring switch to vibrate mode, and powered up the device. The screen glowed. Aiden pulled up his pant leg, shoved the phone deep into his sock, then sat up straight as the man exited the car and opened his door.
“Get out,” he said.
“I don’t feel well,” Emma complained.
“You’re fine.”
“She’s not fine, asshole,” Aiden retorte
d. “My sister gets sick on long drives, always has. Mom gives her Dramamine. But you wouldn’t know that because you’re a fucking idiot.”
“She’ll feel better once she gets a couple deep breaths of clean mountain air into her lungs.” He pointed to the cabin. “Enough complaining. Out of the car, now.”
Aiden stepped out. Mannafort grabbed him by the collar. “Listen to me,” he said. “You run and she dies. Got it?”
“Touch her and I’ll kill you,” Aiden warned.
Mannafort had had enough of the insolent youth. He threw him to the ground, raised his foot to kick him, held back. “You’re really starting to get on my nerves, kid.”
Aiden had landed hard on the ground. He spat dirt out of his mouth, pulled himself up and stared at the creep. He smiled. “I have that effect on some people,” he replied. “They’re usually assholes who bear a striking resemblance to you.”
“Little shit,” Mannafort repeated. He walked around the car, dragged Emma out of the back seat, hauled her to her brother’s side.
“You okay, Em?” Aiden asked. He put his arm around his sister.
Emma nodded. “I think so.”
“Family reunion’s over,” Mannafort said. “Up the hill. March.”
Aiden took his sister’s hand, helped her over the rocky terrain. “What are you going to do to us?” Emma asked.
“What do you think?” Mannafort said.
“Don’t listen to him, Emma,” Aiden said. “He’s just trying to scare you.”
“I am scared.”
“Don’t be,” Aiden said.
Mannafort shoved Aiden, tried to make him fall. “What are you going to do?” he asked. “Be a hero? Save the day?”
Aiden was two-steps ahead of his captor up the steep incline which led to the cabin. He acted quickly, used the elevation to his advantage. “That’s exactly what I was thinking,” he replied.
Faster than Elton could react, Aiden turned and shot his leg back with all his might. The karate kick caught Mannafort square in his face. He screamed in agony. The man brought his hands to his face, tried to stem the flow of blood gushing from his nose. Aiden jumped again, following the first well-placed kick with a second straight to the middle of Mannafort’s chest. The crushing contact to his solar plexus took the air out of Elton’s lungs. He dropped to his knees.
Aiden grabbed his sister by the hand. “Run, Emma!” he yelled. “Run!”
Mannafort struggled to his feet, slowly regained his senses, and watched the children as they ran over the crest of the hill towards the cabin. “There’s nowhere to go!” he yelled. He hurried up the trail and over the hill, pulled the stun stick from the small of his back, powered up the weapon, held it at his side.
Ahead, the children had stopped. Emma had finally succumbed to car sickness. Aiden stood beside her while the poor girl wrenched into the tall grass.
Elton pointed the stun stick at Aiden. “That was a very stupid thing to do,” he said.
Aiden stood in front of his sister. “How’s the nose?” he asked, pleased with himself at the effectiveness of the kick. “Looks pretty fucked up to me.”
“Not half as much as you’ll be if you ever try a stunt like that again,” Elton replied. He waved the stun stick in the cabin’s direction. “Door’s open. Make yourself at home.”
Aiden tended to his sister. “You all right, Em?”
Emma stood up, wiped her face. She nodded. “Better.”
“Good.”
Aiden realized the opportunity for escape had been lost. He took Emma by the hand. “C’mon,” he said. “Better do what he says.”
The children walked ahead, entered the cabin.
Elton followed, then closed and locked the door.
∞ ∞ ∞
At FBI headquarters in downtown Los Angeles, Technical Specialist Karen Wentworth had been assigned to the rapidly assembled Quest task force and was monitoring Aiden’s cell signal when suddenly a location blip appeared on her computer screen. She called out to the team, “Got him!”
The agent’s gathered around the monitor. Karen picked up the phone, placed a call.
“Dunn.”
“We have him, Director,” Karen said. “Aiden’s phone just came online.”
“Where is he?”
“The cell signal puts him in the San Gabriel Mountains.”
“I’m scrambling HRT,” Dunn said. “You’ll be liaising with them. Give them everything you’ve got on the boy’s location.”
“Copy that, sir.”
Dunn made the call to the Hostage Rescue Team. Commander Tom Gibson and his team had been placed on standby and were awaiting his call. “We have a location,” the director said. “San Gabriel Mountains. GPS coordinates are on their way to you now.”
“Copy that, sir,” Gibson replied. “Consider us in the air.”
CHAPTER 37
“HERNANDO!” EGAN YELLED. He ran to the old man’s aid, dropped to the floor. “Where are you hit?”
Hernando glanced down at his right shoulder. “There,” he said. The blood had begun to seep out of the wound, dampen his shirt.
Egan helped him up from the ground, shuffled him across the room to cover. Hernando sat down in the corner. He lifted the old man’s hand to his shoulder, placed it on the wound. “Keep pressure on it,” he said, then stood. “Wait here.”
Hernando heard the anger in the commander’s voice. “Where are you going?” he asked.
“To finish this,” Egan replied. He had activated Channeler. His palms glowed bright red.
Outside, Egan heard the screech of brakes. Men were yelling. He recognized the well-practiced tone of comply-or-die commands being issued. “Drop your weapons! Get on the ground! Do it now!” A volley of gunfire followed, then silence.
A familiar voice called out. “Commander Egan, this is Colonel Quentin Hallier. Come out of the building now. Place your hands above your head and interlock your fingers.”
From the doorway Egan looked across the room. Hernando grimaced. The old man was in a great deal of pain.
“Is that who I think it is?” Hernando asked.
Egan nodded.
“They’ve come for you?”
“Yes.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m not sure yet.”
“You said they’d kill you if ever they found you.”
“Probably.”
“You can’t let that happen, Ben. Not after all we’ve been through together.”
“It’s not my decision, Hernando,” Egan replied. “I’ve been responsible for a lot of deaths. Maybe this is how it ends.”
“The people you killed. Why did you do it?”
“I was under orders.”
“Then you didn’t have a choice in the matter, did you?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Yes, it does,” Hernando said. “A murderer kills for the thrill of killing. A soldier kills out of duty to country. There’s a huge difference.”
Hallier yelled again. “There’s no reason to put more civilian lives at risk, commander. Don’t make us have to take the building by force.”
Egan cracked open the door, peered outside.
“Don’t do it, Ben,” Hernando said.
Thins beams of red light broke through the gap in the door and pierced the darkness of the room. Lasers, from high-powered weapons. The DARPA commandos had acquired their target.
Egan called out. “I have a man in here who’s been shot. He requires medical attention. You treat him first.”
“That can be arranged,” Hallier replied. “Stand by. I’m sending someone in.”
“I want the agent,” Egan said.
Hallier paused. “Who?”
“Don’t screw with me, Colonel. You know exactly who I’m talking about. Send in Agent Quest. Have her bring a medical kit. After this man’s injury has been dealt with, we’ll discuss the terms of my surrender.”
Jordan ran to the van, grabbed the field medi
cal kit, returned. Hallier stopped her, shook his head. “Not happening,” he said.
“You heard what the commander said,” Jordan replied. “He wants me.”
“It’s too dangerous.”
“Sir, I’ve got this. Besides, you brought me here to help.”
“I brought you here to help us locate Commander Egan,” Hallier retorted. “You’ve done that. This is out of your depth.”
“Do you want the commander back or not?” Jordan asked.
“The answer to that question is obvious, Agent Quest.”
“That’s right. So, whether you like it or not, it’s on me to make that happen.” Jordan walked into the compound.
“You have five minutes,” Hallier called out.
“I’ll take as much time as I need,” Jordan called back. “Tell your men to stand down. No one makes a move until you see me walk out the door with Commander Egan!”
Hallier waved to his men, instructed them to lower their weapons. “That woman is stubborn as hell,” he muttered to himself.
Chris was standing beside him, heard the comment. “You have no idea,” he said.
Jordan reached the front steps of the main building.
“Hands,” Egan said.
Jordan raised her arms.
“Turn.”
Jordan did as he instructed.
Egan removed her firearm, opened the door. “Get inside.”
Jordan entered the room, saw the man lying in the corner of the room. She walked over to Hernando. “How bad is he hurt?” she asked.
“Looks like a through and through,” Egan replied.
Jordan gingerly removed Hernando’s shirt, inspected the wound. The blood stuck to the cotton fabric. The old man gritted his teeth as Jordan pulled the wet cloth away from his skin. “You’re right,” she said. “There’s an exit wound.” She opened the medical kit, removed the required supplies and began to treat the gunshot.
“How long have you had it?” Egan asked as he watched her work.
“What are you talking about?”
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