JET V - Legacy

by Blake, Russell

  There.

  An almost imperceptible rise, a slight bump in the dirt, the surrounding earth marginally lighter in color – no doubt a land mine triggered by either a pressure plate or the tripwire. Not a particularly crafty device, but crudely effective against a trespasser in the dark. If they’d tried to go in a few hours earlier, they would have been hamburger – the only thing that had saved them was the morning light.

  She tapped her earbud and murmured, “The place is rigged. Mine on the side. Tripwire. We have to assume the entire exterior is like this. I’m coming back to the front. There’s a fifty-fifty chance they’ve wired the rear door and any of the windows – I would have.”

  “What about the front door?” Eric whispered.

  “Also probably wired. I’m going to give you the AK, and then I’ll scale the side of the house and try the second floor. Worst case, there’s got to be a way in from the roof.”

  She retraced her steps and avoided the trip wire, then fixed Eric with a steely gaze as she handed him the Kalashnikov.

  “Time for a little workout. Don’t touch the door. I have a bad feeling about this whole deal,” she said, then spun and sprinted for the side wall next to the house. Her boots struck the coarsely finished mortar and she moved laterally a few yards up before thrusting herself away, toward the house. Her fingers caught a second-story molded concrete windowsill. She paused, then heaved herself upwards, the soles of her Doc Martens fighting to grip on the rough mortar as the muscles in her arms knotted from the effort. The left toe of her boot found a slight indentation and she pushed herself higher; she then swung her legs to the side and, using the momentum, hurled herself at the small second-story balcony that had attracted her attention.

  Eric watched her progress, a black-clad ninja defying gravity, and then returned his focus to the door when he saw her alight on the terrace, the weight of the Kalashnikov in his hands slim reassurance given what they were up against.

  Jet squinted through the drapes at an empty bedroom, spartan, occupied by only a bed and a floor lamp. Her hands felt along the perimeter of the glass door frame as she pored over every inch of it before trying the handle, twisting it gingerly.

  Locked.

  But she hadn’t been decapitated by a concealed grenade, so net positive.

  The picks made short work of the largely cosmetic lock, and in seconds she was easing the glass door open, pulling it toward her, and slipping inside, her pistol now steady in her hand.

  The rich smell of recently prepared food wafted up from below through the partially open bedroom door. As she drifted through the space like a ghost, nerves close to the surface of her skin, she didn’t detect anyone – whoever had been in the house wasn’t there any longer. Jet crept to the next door and listened for a few moments before cracking it open – a bathroom. Empty. The one beside it held another bedroom, also uninhabited. Ditto for the last.

  Her hopes sank as she slipped down the stairs and quickly confirmed that the lower floor was also empty, although vacated so recently that the odor of breakfast still hung in the air like a taunt. She tapped her earbud.

  “They’re gone. No sign of them. I’m going to come out the front door. I’d back off from it if I were you – I see a keypad,” Jet advised, then approached the crudely mounted box adjacent to the doorjamb. Her gaze followed the wire up to the ceiling and across to a potted plant on a molded ledge in the corner. She looked the box over, the contact points on the door mounted without finesse, and then flipped out a butterfly knife and sliced through the cable. They hadn’t expected anyone to tackle disabling it from the inside, obviously. Another bit of luck – if losing track of the nuke that would change the world order could be considered in the same sentence as luck.

  She unlocked the deadbolt, opened the door, and without pausing fished out her cell and dialed the director as she motioned to Eric to stay put.

  “It was empty. But they couldn’t have left long ago. Pull the satellite data and go back in time,” she said.

  “No indication of where they were going?”

  “None. Unfortunately they didn’t have a map of the city pinned to the wall with a big red star for the detonation site. Just some lukewarm coffee.”

  “We’re live now, so let me see what we can get.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  She told Aaron what had happened and advised him to pull his car around to where Isaac was waiting. Eric came inside, and she shut the door so as not to arouse any suspicion on the off chance the bombers returned.

  Her phone vibrated again.

  “We’ve pulled the data and we’re going over it now.” The director paused. “Wait. There. Twenty-three minutes ago. There’s a van in the driveway. Two men are leaving the house. One of them is carrying something. Putting it in the back of the van. Now he’s closing the door. Going to open the gate. The van is backing out. Damn. Some noise in the feed. Never mind. It’s back. The van is pulling out of the driveway and he’s closing the gate again. Wait – freeze that.” The director hesitated. “I’m going to send this image to your phone while we’re tracking the them real time. Stand by.”

  A few moments later her phone vibrated again and she opened the file she’d been sent. A grainy black and white image of a tiny van. She zoomed in and then her breath caught in her throat. She held out her hand to Eric, showing him the picture, then raised the phone to her ear.

  “Can you enhance that image? It’s too blurry for me to make out.”

  “We’re already working on it. In the meantime, we’ve acquired them and we’re tracking the van. It made its way onto one of the main roads, heading east. Haloul street. Get going, and stay on the line. They’re not that far ahead of you.”

  “Far enough, unfortunately.”

  Chapter 35

  Jet ran to her car, trailed by Eric, Aaron staying in touch on the com line to wait for instructions. She popped the trunk and he dropped the rifle in. She started the engine and the little car revved as he threw himself into the passenger seat; then she tore off, working through the gears as she held the phone and the wheel with her left hand.

  “We’re fast-forwarding through the footage. So far they’re headed straight for the financial district near the diplomatic area,” the director reported.

  “That’s not surprising. The big breakfast is on the grounds of the Four Seasons. The closer the better if they’re going to be guaranteed to take the whole place out.”

  “How are you doing?”

  “We’re on the road, going as fast as we can. I don’t want to attract any cops, so I can’t do Mach two down the street, but I’m pushing it. Isaac is following us with Aaron. But it would really help if I knew where we were going.”

  “I know. We’re doing the best we can.” The director’s voice was muffled for a few seconds as he had a hurried discussion with someone in the background. “All right. It looks like they stopped at a high rise at the edge of the diplomatic area.”

  “When?”

  “Three minutes ago.”

  “What’s the address?”

  The director gave her the information, which she repeated for Eric’s benefit. “They drove around to the rear of the building. Hang on. We’re accessing the records on it. It’s listed as still under construction, but it looks pretty far along to me,” the director said.

  “That’s got to be where they plan to detonate it. How far is it from the hotel?”

  “Less than half a mile. Easily close enough to vaporize everyone at the breakfast. Remember the briefing.”

  “I do. All too well.”

  “There. They’re walking into the building, wheeling a cart. They went inside. How far away are you?”

  “I’m guessing no more than ten minutes, if we’re lucky. Anything on the image?”

  “Not yet. Working on it.”

  Jet stopped talking as she swerved around a plodding semi-rig and almost hit an oncoming cargo van passing illegally, speeding toward her in her lane.
She stomped on the brakes and struggled to control the car as the wheels locked up, screeching on the hot asphalt as she stood on her horn. The other vehicle careened back into its lane just before she would have struck it, and she caught a fleeting glimpse of an angry bearded face making an obscene gesture at her, and then she was past it and flooring the gas again.

  “What happened?” the director barked, obviously agitated.

  “Crazy driver. I need to concentrate on what I’m doing. I’ll call back when we’re close.”

  She redlined the engine as she pulled past another truck and slammed the shifter into fourth gear, focused on the erratic traffic. A few minutes later an ocean of red brake lights blocked the road, the traffic snarled as they got nearer the diplomatic area. Slowing, she checked the mirror to confirm that Isaac was still behind her, his maneuvering of the van nearly miraculous given the speed at which they had been hurtling down the crowded road.

  Tall buildings thronged the skyline as they drew nearer the coast, and once close to their destination their progress slowed to a crawl. Jet hit redial on her phone and the director’s voice boomed in her ear.

  “Are you watching the time?”

  “I’ve never been more aware of it in my life.”

  “We’re getting down to the wire.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know.”

  “The breakfast starts in an hour.”

  “We’ll be at the building in five minutes.”

  “That doesn’t give you a lot of time, I know. But we know they’re inside. The van is still there.”

  “I’m thinking that we use our fake credentials to get past whatever security they have – will that stand up?”

  “The men will have to take the lead on that. You can’t. Remember where you are. I don’t think it’s believable if you’re with them.”

  “Then how the hell am I going to get in? No disrespect, but I need access to the building if I’m going to stop the bomb from detonating.”

  “All I can say is improvise.”

  “Got it. Nuke going off in an hour, and the plan is to wing it.” Jet hung up, shaking her head, and then the target building loomed ahead of them, easily thirty stories tall.

  She tapped her earbud. “Aaron, we’re going to go in, scope out the security situation, and figure out a way to search the building.”

  Aaron’s voice came in loud and clear. “Sounds good. How are we going to do that?”

  “I have an idea.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Jet followed Aaron and Eric into the lobby of the office tower, and the two security guards behind the front desk looked up from whatever they were eating. The older of the two stood and shook his head.

  “I’m afraid we’re not open. This is a construction site,” he intoned, not unfriendly but still firm, a practiced authority in his voice.

  “Yes, I know. I’m here to show the space to my clients. They’re looking for offices, and I was told the building is selling out fast,” Eric said, offering his best real estate salesman’s grin, as phony as a pole dancer’s smile.

  The two security men exchanged glances. They weren’t prepared for anything besides checking the IDs of construction workers and lounging behind the counter all day.

  “I don’t think you’re allowed up. Like I said, it’s still a construction zone,” the guard tried again.

  “It looks pretty done to me,” Eric said, trying another toothy display. “We understand that it’s not completely finished. That’s the whole point of showing it before it is – to be able to pick the floor we want. My clients are most anxious to see the space. I’d hate for the building owners to miss out getting a landmark tenant because of a misunderstanding. We won’t be but a few minutes.”

  The younger one rose, uncertainty in his eyes. “We were told to only allow workers in. I’m sorry…”

  “That’s fine. I’m quite sure that they didn’t mean to stop me from showing the available space,” Eric replied, his tone confident and reasonable.

  “If you’ll wait a bit, I’ll call someone and see if we can allow it,” the older one said, and then his eyes widened when Aaron pulled his pistol from his jacket pocket and stuck it under the guard’s chin.

  “We tried this the easy way. Now let’s do it the hard way. Both of you – stand completely still or I’ll blow your heads off.”

  Eric moved from behind the guard and unholstered the older man’s revolver. He slipped it into his jacket and rounded the desk to the younger man, who had his hands in the air at the first sign of a gun, and disarmed him.

  “All right. Two men came in here a few minutes ago with a cart. Where did they go?” Aaron growled. Neither man responded. Eric withdrew his weapon from his waistband at the small of his back and held it high so they could both see it. When Jet lifted her robe and whipped the Kalashnikov out, it was obvious to the two hapless security men that the situation far exceeded their four hours of training.

  The younger man was practically shaking at the sudden display, and the older one swallowed hard before answering.

  “I…I don’t know. We just check IDs. They go wherever they’re supposed to once we let them in.”

  Jet stepped closer, the muzzle of the Russian assault rifle as menacing as a live cobra. “How many workers are in the building right now?”

  The older one closed his eyes for a moment. “I don’t know. Maybe forty? It’s almost done. Not much left–”

  “How many more guards?” Jet demanded.

  “More? None. Just us.”

  Aaron nudged the older man in the chest with his gun. “I’m taking over security for the day. I’m guessing you have a storage room somewhere back there, or a bathroom?”

  The younger man’s eyes darted to the left as the older man’s shoulders slumped. “Please. Don’t hurt us. This is just a job,” he begged, a bead of sweat trickling from his temple, teasing its way down to his chin.

  “Do as I say and nobody gets hurt. I want you to cuff your hands behind your backs. Don’t make me ask twice,” Eric ordered.

  The two men removed their handcuffs from their web belts and did as instructed, and then Aaron waved his gun at the doors behind them. “Which one?” he asked, and the older man indicated with his head.

  “First one on the left is the security office.”

  “Move.”

  Thirty seconds later Aaron emerged and nodded to Jet. “They’re not going anywhere. I disconnected the phone and duct taped their mouths. Now, how do you want to do this?” he asked.

  “Somebody needs to stay down here while we’re searching the building. You’re it, Aaron. Eric and I will go floor to floor.” She rounded the counter and leaned the AK-47 against the back of the reception desk, then checked the time. “It’s probably best if I don’t cause a panic with the remaining workers. Aaron, you take the rifle.” She glanced at the bare counter. “This is a big building, and the device could be anywhere. Did you see any security monitors in the back room?”

  “Nope. I don’t think they’ve got that part finished yet,” Aaron answered, taking a seat behind the desk. “Do you want me to check IDs if anyone comes in, or turn everyone away?”

  “Turn them away. Tell them that there’s a contamination inspection going on – someone complained about something. Whatever. But I want as few people in here as possible.”

  Aaron nodded, and Jet made for the elevator bank with Eric.

  “Where do you want to start?” Eric asked, stabbing the elevator button. Three sets of stainless steel doors faced them, the nearest one humming quietly as it descended to the ground level.

  “You take the bottom fifteen stories, I’ll take the top. At a minute or so per floor, we should be able to completely search the building and be done within thirty minutes of detonation. We’ll stay in touch via the comm channel.”

  Eric shook his head. “Wouldn’t it be a better idea to start at the top floor and leapfrog down, alternating floors?”

  “That’s exactly what I wou
ld expect if I were them – they were trained using the same playbook we were, so they might anticipate that. And given the distance to the target, the device could be anywhere in the building. The speculation that they would shoot for an upper floor is just that – guesswork.”

  “Then what you’re saying is that any way we slice it, we’re screwed.”

  “Welcome to government work. I’m thinking we start with the middle floors because it’s unorthodox, and that’s about the only advantage we have at the moment – our ability to be unpredictable. Put yourself in their shoes – what would you do?”

  Eric nodded. “You’re probably right. They haven’t made any stupid mistakes yet.”

  “Which is why we’re going to do this my way. Are you ready?” she asked.

  “I’ll start at the fifteenth and work down,” he confirmed as the closest elevator slid open with a hiss.

  “I’ll work up from there,” she agreed, glancing around the lobby one final time before they stepped into the elevator, precious seconds ticking away in their race to stop a nightmare.

  Chapter 36

  Jet was prepared for anything when the elevator arrived at the sixteenth floor. Thankfully her robe provided cover for the pistol in her hand, its long suppressor unwieldy but necessary if she was to avoid drawing the police when she came across her quarry. She found herself looking out over the city and the Persian Gulf beyond it, the view as breathtaking as any she’d seen. The polished marble floors gleamed in the natural light streaming in through the floor-to-ceiling tinted windows, the entire space open, the layout of the final interior walls still to be completed to the ultimate tenant’s specifications. She did a fast walkthrough of the area, her muffled footsteps echoing in the ghostly quiet space as she inspected the oversized electrical panels in one of the corners, and then went back to the elevator and took it to the seventeenth floor.