“You have kids?” Allie asked, smirking.
“Two. I’m not with the mother, so I see them when I can.” Booth looked away. “I’ve been thinking about them a lot since this clusterfuck went down.”
“Where do they live?”
“Seattle. I’ll check in on them on the way. I tried phoning before but couldn’t get through. I was like you a few years ago. Not interested in the noisy little tykes. I had better things to do with my time. If I wasn’t on an operation, I was surfing or hunting in the wilderness. Partying, hopping from one bed to the other, never settling down. The only way I could cope with some of the things I saw and did was to numb the feelings. It wasn’t a good way to live. Connors tried to get me to chill out, but not everyone is lucky, finding that special person to love. Then there was Rita. I was in Bora Bora, surfing the pipeline, when she phoned me with the news: I’m pregnant. Like you, I thought, “Shit, I’m not the parent type!” But let me tell you, the second they’re born, crying, and covered in mucus and blood, you love them with every fiber of your being. Your whole outlook on life switches. Before, it was all about you. Now it’s about them. Providing for them and keeping them safe.”
Allie nodded. She checked her watch as Sofia’s voice came over the comms.
“Alpha team. SITREP?”
There was a humming noise, followed by hissing static. “Two hundred meters in. Over.”
“Twenty minutes to diversion. Hostiles no change.” Sofia said. “Booth. Move up.”
“Wilco,” Booth said, grabbing his skateboard. He dropped into the tunnel and popped back up to look at Allie. “Hey. What’s your favorite movie?”
“Why?”
“Just curious.”
“Huh. Probably Last of the Mohicans.”
“How about when this is all over, we have dinner and watch it?”
“Are you asking me on a date?”
“Most definitely.”
“I’d love to. Thanks.”
Booth pumped the air with his fist. “See you on the other side, kid.” He dropped back into the hole and disappeared.
Allie shook her head. If we make it out of this.
Nine
Hokkaido, Japan
The concrete was smooth and cool under the wheels of his skateboard. The cable tunnel had a slight musty smell, like socks mixed with garden lime – or maybe more like an old basement that hadn’t been opened for years. That dusty whiff you get when the mites are disturbed. The tunnel was about the scale of a packing box, an old tea chest, and divided into three sections with a metal grid shelf running the entire length of the walls. Thick spools of cable had been encased in cooling insulation – probably waterproof too – and above and below the shelves were gaps just large enough to allow Ryan and Cal to move.
They rolled forward meter by meter, listening and watching for any sound or movement. When Yamada had built the lab, he had left this little detail off the submitted plans. So far, it appeared the Black Skulls had no clue of its existence.
After another five minutes, they reached the end. A solid metal door painted glossy black barred the way.
Ryan nudged his comms. “Alpha team at location. Over.”
“Copy. Booth?” Sofia said.
“In location. Over.”
“Allie. Status?”
“In position. Over.”
Ryan glanced at his watch; they had made it with minutes to spare. It was nearing 3 a.m., their agreed-upon time. Yamada’s yakuza were to attack from the ground while his surviving security forces would strike from the air.
What do you think we’ll find in there? Cal signed.
Who knows? We’ve seen some bad stuff over the years. I just hope I don’t get any more traumatic memories. What I have is enough to last a lifetime.
Ryan turned away as he recalled some of the atrocities he’d witnessed over the years. Children kept in flea-ridden hovels, forced to work. Men and women tricked into thinking they were moving to the West, only to find themselves trapped in a life of prostitution. But one memory always surged to the forefront of his mind: Bangladesh, and Zizer Pharmaceuticals using the poor and the downtrodden for drug testing. He gritted his teeth and checked his magazine to stop the thought going any further.
I hope there are no abnormalities, Ryan signed.
Like we saw in Manila? Cal signed back.
I was thinking about Bangladesh, but Manila was bad too.
For months after, all I could see were those little bodies and those eyes, Cal hesitated.
Staring at us?
Staring, pleading, questioning. I’ve never figured out how someone could do things like that to innocent children.
I like to think that is why we do this job. Help the innocent.
Of course. Cal patted his arm and glanced away.
Ryan shivered, thinking of it. That had all been before the twins had come along. Having children had strengthened his resolve to stop any exploitation.
Sofia’s voice came over the comms, loud and clear. “Heads up, Nameless. Show time.”
Ryan unlocked the metal door using the key Goro had provided. It swung open, smooth and quiet. He strained his ears, waiting for the sounds of battle.
“Hold location, Alpha team,” Sofia said.
There was a muffled boom, followed by sporadic gunfire. Ryan calmed his breathing and focused on what he had to do, running through the directions that Yamada had explained to him and what locked doors he could expect.
A louder boom echoed, vibrating the concrete under him as rapid gunfire exploded from somewhere deeper in the building.
“Alpha. Proceed.”
“Wilco,” Ryan said, giving Cal’s hand a squeeze.
“Booth. Move up.”
“Wilco.”
Ryan placed the skateboard to one side and shuffled his feet in front of him. He looked back at Cal, nodded, and slid through the open door, dropping into the corridor. It was brightly lit, almost gleaming like a ski slope. He went down on one knee, drew his Glock 17 and swept the vicinity. Cal followed him out and protected their eastern flank. The access door swung shut.
Yamada had disguised the access door as a fire alarm panel, complete with blinking lights. Ryan made a note of the serial number before rechecking his immediate vicinity. The gunshots were coming from outside the building, over the roar of SUV engines and the soft pops of the yakuza’s preferred weapon, the MP5s. Cal tapped him on the shoulder and leap-frogged past him, moving twenty meters away. She stopped and crouched before pivoting back toward him. Ryan trained his Glock east, covering that position. Next, he leap-frogged Cal, and they repeated the procedure all the way to the first junction. They had expected little resistance at this end of the building. To get to the blast doors and their targets they needed to go down one floor at the far eastern end of the lab.
Ryan glanced in each door he passed, just a quick look, making mental notes, more out of habit, recording items and equipment in case he needed it in the future. Most of the labs were filled with typical medical equipment: microscopes, beakers, test tubes. Each had a small room attached for the scientists’ computers and pegs for clothing. Like in Koya, forms of ash from the workers littered the floor, chairs, and desks. From what Ryan could see, there was nothing dangerous being experimented on up here.
Was this the legitimate business to cover what really happened down below?
They made it to the end of the corridor without any contacts. After checking the door to the stairwell, Ryan whispered to Cal, “Eyes sharp. Something’s off.”
“Alpha at the doors,” Ryan said into his throat mic.
“Standby.”
“Booth. Move up.”
The battle outside the building intensified. Ryan and Cal waited for Sofia to give them the green light. The easy part was over. This next phase was the critical part, where they expected to meet fierce opposition from Offenheim’s Black Skulls.
Four muffled booms rattled the darkened windows. Humvees with machine gu
ns roared into action.
“Go, Alpha.”
Sofia had been waiting for the main attack. It was insane, attacking head-on, but the goal was their task, not success for the frontal attack.
Ryan cracked open the fire door and peered through. No movement, not even a fragment. He looked up and side to side. Nothing. All quiet.
Cal brushed past him and waited until he was inside. The stairwell was gray and boring, built for a purpose and a function, not for aesthetics. Using the same leap-frogging method, they hustled down to the next floor.
Here, a small, secondary set of thick doors had been smashed open. Two Black Skulls, necks broken, were slumped against the wall. Their weapons, HK416s, lay discarded on the floor. Not Ryan’s favorite rifle, but he grabbed it all the same.
He tossed one to Cal, who caught it and checked the magazine.
“What happened here?” she said. “No wounds. Just broken necks.”
Ryan shrugged. Something strong had torn the doors off their hinges. Thick-cast steel bolt hinges, no less.
The corridor ahead carried on for another fifty meters before ending in a T-intersection. Lining each wall were thick steel doors, each with a tiny window in the center at eye level. Ryan jogged over to the first one and peered inside. A large male stared back at him, snarling and showing yellow teeth. Eyes brown, but bright as if the whites were illuminated from behind. He was huge, nearly two meters tall, with muscles like an action movie hero. His skin was dark brown with patches of gray and calloused into ridges and troughs like the bark on a pine tree. The man snarled again and thumped his meaty fist against the door.
Ryan moved on. The next room held another man. He was curled up on the bed under a filthy blanket. His fingers were long and spider-like. Lumps, some as large as apples, bulged from his skull. Webbed feet with long toes poked out at the end of the bed. Another cell held a thin man, sitting cross-legged as if deep in meditation, his hair long and snowy white. His ivory skin was covered in scars, some delicate and small, others angry and ragged. The next room held a woman covered in incandescent scales, shimmering in the pale light. She glared at Ryan but remained stationary.
Cal watched from the opposite side of the corridor, tears in her eyes. “This is sick. Heartbreaking even. What the hell is going on down here?”
“Nothing like this in The Eyrie?”
“Not that I saw. There’s a dog in this cell.”
Ryan frowned and gestured for her to cover him. The dog was a golden labrador. It sat in the middle of the room, wagging its tail. It saw Ryan and whined and wiggled its butt.
Cal jolted her head back from the corner and held up a closed fist. Heavy footsteps clomped toward them. The footsteps stopped and were replaced by hushed orders. Ryan was a firm believer in taking control. Shoot the other guys first. In situations like these, conversations didn’t work. Arguments were settled with bullets. He went high, Cal low. He flicked off the safety and let off a three-shot burst at the first target he saw, scoring a hit in the chest and neck. Cal shot a second target, while the third dove to one side.
More shots came at them from farther down the corridor. Chips of concrete flew at Ryan’s head. He ducked and pivoted. Four more Black Skulls had caught them napping from behind. Ryan cursed himself for acting like an amateur and returned fire. The two he had shot sat back up, shaking their heads. With everyone flooded with nanites, he shouldn’t have been surprised they didn’t stay down. Still, he chided himself. Too long out of the game and rusty as hell.
Ryan had no time for answers as he scanned for a way out. If he couldn’t go out, maybe he could get in? Beside the cell with the dog was a large red button, and next to that were door-release switches. Each cell was numbered. He reached up and flicked all the switches.
Klaxons blared.
Speakers boomed out warnings in Japanese and English, so loud they rattled Ryan’s teeth. He grabbed Cal’s arm and dove into the dog’s cell. The golden labrador wagged its tail and started licking Ryan’s face and hands until he gently pushed it away.
The dog switched its attention to Cal. “Down boy,” she said.
As quickly as the alarms sounded, they switched off.
Cal grimaced as she turned and continued to fire her weapon. Blood dripped from several wounds on her legs and torso. They may have made it into the cell, but now they had another problem. For the Black Skulls, it would be like bobbing for apples, or was it shooting fish in a barrel? Either way, they were screwed. And no one stayed down.
Ryan skipped through the files of his mind, trying to figure out a way to get the Black Skulls permanently dead. His mind flashed back to the guards with the broken necks. Maybe like that? Or head shots, destroy the brain. The dog licked Ryan’s face and hands before barking at the noise in the corridor.
The commandos kept firing at the inhabitants of the cells Ryan had unlocked. Their shouts became filled with terror.
Ryan checked on Cal. “All good?”
She nodded, lifting her top. A bullet had punched through her side, taking a hunk of flesh with it. Already the bleeding had stopped, and the wound had begun to heal. Not for the first time, Ryan wished he had a better explanation than just nanites. Sure, he knew what they were and the basic principle, but, like most technology, how it worked stumped him. It was something he was going to rectify if he ever got out of here.
A roar, like a note sung by a tenor, rumbled into their cell. The dog raced around in a circle and licked their hands again. The man with the bark-like skin stood in the doorway. He was huge, blocking out the light. The dog ran straight to him and bounced in circles.
“Who are you?” he said. His voice sounded garbled, as though the words were gurgled through a mouth of water.
Gunshots boomed up the corridor.
“Who?” he gurgled again, stepping into the room.
Ryan glanced at Cal before answering. “LK3 operatives. We’re looking for Takeshi Yamada.”
“Why?”
“We were sent to extract him, by his father.”
More bullets pinged off the man’s thickened skin, as if they were nothing more than slugs fired from a BB gun.
“Let them pass, Yuri,” a voice called out from the next cell. “Can’t you see they’re friendly.”
“Down there,” Yuri said, gesturing deeper into the complex. He turned away and growled at the Black Skulls. “Stay with them, dog.”
The dog growled again, much louder this time, and lumbered into the corridor, facing the men. The Black Skulls continued to fire their weapons.
Cal sighed as she stood up and checked her magazine. “What’s that saying about insanity?”
“You can’t expect a fish to climb a tree?” Ryan said.
“No. Insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. How many rounds have they fired? A thousand?”
“Yuri is scaring them, that’s all.”
The woman covered in incandescent scales slipped into the room. Her nictitating membrane blinking. Next, the last occupant of a cell stood in their doorway. His fingers freakishly long, almost three times the normal length, and his feet resembled flippers.
They both stared at Ryan and Cal, said “thank you,” and darted from the room.
“In here,” the voice called out again. It was the thin man who had been meditating. He held up a bony hand and waved. “I don’t see nowadays, but I hear you well enough.”
“We’re operatives from LK3. Gather your belongings. Once we have Takeshi, we’ll come back for you,” Ryan said.
The thin man stared at them with unblinking eyes. A small chuckle sounded in his throat. “I thought I heard your accent. It’s there, barely, but there. New Zealand?”
“Yes. Originally.”
“How is it these days? Like I remember? Bush-clad mountains. Rolling green fields. Turquoise water that shimmers in the summer heat?”
“More or less. Who are you?”
“That I remember. I’ve held onto it all th
ese years. I’m not sure how much time has passed exactly, but Ando could never take that from me. Corporal Bruno Muir.” Bruno wheezed and lay down on the narrow bed. He coughed a few times and rummaged under his pillow. When his hand emerged, he held out dog tags faded with age. “I’m afraid I’ve reached the end. Pity. I would have liked to have seen the pohutukawa flowering one last time. Can you get these to my family? Let them know that I never gave up hope of seeing them.”
Ryan took the tags, feeling the weight in his hand. Not the physical weight, but the years of hopelessness Bruno must have felt. He tucked them inside his combat vest. “I’ll make it my personal mission, sir.”
Bruno chuckled again. “They caught me in Singapore during the war, taking me first to the Philippines. Gave me medicine. Cut me, shot me, broke my bones. Over and over. I heard the battle, the heavy artillery, and thought I was going home. But no. They brought me to Japan. I heard the guards say that we had won the war, and again I thought I was going home. Years went by. More prisoners joined the experiment, and Ando was never satisfied. Always wanting something else.” Bruno coughed again, wet and full of mucus. “The other prisoners will leave you alone.”
“Thank you,” Ryan said.
“It was nice to hear a friendly voice before I died.”
Cal knelt and held Bruno’s hand as his breathing became ragged. He gasped one last time. Cal placed his hands over his chest and pulled up the blanket. “This place isn’t a lab. It’s a chamber of death.”
They left Bruno and darted back into the corridor.
Ryan listened to the shrieks of the commandos as the former prisoners tore into the Black Skulls. He didn’t look; he didn’t need to. More to the point, he didn’t want to. He turned back to Cal. “Let’s move.”
“What about the dog?”
In response, the golden lab wriggled its butt, happy to be included. Ryan had always had a soft spot for dogs and cats. They were completely different as pets but brought so much joy to the family.
“Fine, we’ll take him. But we can’t call him dog.”
“What about Sam?”
“Sam it is.” Ryan smiled and bumped his throat mic. “Sofia. Resistance met. Proceeding to blast doors. Over.”
Shadows of Ash (The Nameless Book 2) Page 7
