by Tom Grace
The faint hiss of static filled his right ear, as it had for the past several minutes. Unable to raise their man on the loading dock, the Russians had gone off the air completely.
The reflected image in the glass moved as the man in the doorway stepped back into the lab. Another man appeared and moved out into the corridor. He moved cautiously. Visually sweeping the entire length of the corridor, he held a suppressed semi-automatic pistol pointed low in a two-handed grip.
Kilkenny flattened himself against the painted cinder-block wall and slowly closed the fire door. It slid quietly into its frame. As he released the handle, the mortised latch bolts in the head and toe of the door slid home with a metallic click.
Pavel had just raised his hand to motion the rest of the unit forward when he heard the sound of the closing door. He signaled for Dmitri and the others to remain in place while he investigated.
‘Damn!’ Kilkenny cursed under his breath, knowing that the errant sound had exposed his position. He quickly moved against the wall, out of view through the slit window.
A shadow flickered in the thin strip of light beneath the stairwell door, catching Pavel’s trained eye. He moved along the wall, approaching the door from the side. With his back against the wall, Pavel inched forward until his shoulder reached the edge of the door.
He adjusted his grip on the Glock and folded his arms close to his chest as he filled his lungs with air. Exhaling with a low, throaty growl, he stepped forward, spun around, and struck the door with a vicious kick. The panic bar slammed into the hollow metal skin of the door, releasing the latch bolts. The door sprang open, and Pavel lunged into the stairwell.
As the Russian leveled his weapon, Kilkenny swung his left arm down in a sharp block that drove Pavel’s forearms toward the floor. He then wrapped his hand tightly around the barrel of the Glock. Pavel squeezed the trigger.
Click.
Kilkenny smothered the action of the Glock with his grip. He then brought the muzzle of his own pistol against the side of Pavel’s head and fired twice. Blood and bone exploded against the gray metal door.
Pavel shuddered and collapsed to the floor. Kilkenny quickly scanned the hallway for more threats, then retreated down the stairwell.
7
JUNE 23
South Bend, Indiana
Pavel’s offensive was over almost as soon as it started. Two muffled shots and then silence. Dmitri moved to the stairwell and found the door held ajar by the body of his dead brother. He quickly shut down the rage he felt, knowing he still had a mission to complete. There would be time to mourn, and to seek revenge.
‘Pavel’s dead,’ Dmitri said quietly as he went back into the lab. ‘Yuri, time?’
‘Three minutes, forty-five seconds,’ the explosives expert replied.
Lying atop the lab bench, Sandstrom groaned and tried to lift his head. Kelsey began to stir as well. It took several minutes to recover fully from a Taser’s shock, more time than anyone remaining in the lab possessed. Paramo lay motionless on the vinyl-tile floor, his eyes staring blankly at the ceiling.
‘Put the woman on the cart,’ Leskov ordered, his mind sifting through his options. ‘We may need a hostage.’
Yuri and Josef grabbed Kelsey by the legs and shoulders, quickly loaded her onto the four-wheeled cart. Leskov turned the pistol in his hand and struck Sandstrom in the side of the head; the groggy physicist fell to the floor, unconscious. He would be left for dead.
‘Three minutes, Dmitri,’ Yuri called out.
Inside the lab sink, the skin of the first bag ruptured and its contents slowly leaked to form a thick layer along the basin.
‘I’ll take the point,’ Leskov announced. ‘Yuri, take the cart.’
‘And I’ll cover our backsides,’ Josef said, a mouthful of bad teeth smiling beneath his thick black mustache.
With Kelsey as hostage, the Russians carefully moved into the corridor, wary of who or what might be lying in wait. Leskov held up his hand when he reached the stair-well door, halting his men. He then pointed at Yuri and, with two fingers, motioned for his comrade to join him by the door.
‘When I open the door, pull Pavel’s body in.’
Yuri nodded. This was not a matter of sentimentality on his leader’s part; it was simply the law in the world of special warfare that, dead or alive, no man is ever left behind.
Leskov braced himself against the wall on the hinge side and pushed the door open with a backward sweep of his hand. Crouching, Yuri reached forward and grasped Pavel’s leg. He took two steps back, dragging the young soldier’s lifeless body through the doorway as a slick red stain spread from the open wound in the side of Pavel’s head.
Leskov stepped through the doorway and found the stairwell deserted. ‘It’s clear.’
‘Dmitri, do you see his pistol?’ Yuri asked, looking down at Pavel’s empty hands.
‘Nyet, his attacker must have taken it. Put Pavel on the cart. We have to get out of here.’
8
JUNE 23
South Bend, Indiana
After the shoot-out in the stairwell, Kilkenny fell back to regroup. The loading dock was empty when he reached it, save for the body of the man he’d killed earlier.
A bell sounded nearby, indicating that the service elevator had descended to the main floor. Kilkenny searched for a place to position himself.
High ground, he thought when he looked up at the roof of the semi’s trailer.
Kilkenny latched one of the rear doors closed, clambered up the thick steel hinges, and pulled himself onto the corrugated roof. Peering just over the edge, he saw the lead man emerge from the doorway. The man swept left to right, weapon held before him, seeking targets. He then checked behind the truck. Satisfied the dock was clear, he motioned for the others to move forward.
A cart rolled through the doorway, guided from behind by one of the Russians. The last man emerged a moment later. Glancing down at the cart, Kilkenny saw the body of the man he had shot in the stairwell and, beneath the body, Kelsey. His heart sank, then Kelsey’s arm twitched and her fist clenched.
‘Josef, get the truck started,’ Leskov commanded, anxious for this mission’s end. ‘Yuri and I will finish loading.’
Leskov and Yuri holstered their weapons and carried the two remaining boxes into the truck. The starter ground for a moment, then the diesel engine roared to life, belching gritty exhaust into the air. With the greatest respect, Leskov wrapped his brother’s body in one of the quilted moving blankets and gently laid it inside the trailer. Yuri repeated the gesture with Vanya, the other casualty of the day.
‘Dmitri, what do we do with the woman?’ Yuri asked.
‘Kill her. Put her body in the back with Pavel and Vanya. We’ll get rid of it later.’
Kilkenny listened as the lead man issued orders in Russian. Then the diesel engine growled, and a thick black cloud of exhaust wafted over him. As the truck idled, the trailer’s roof vibrated beneath him.
Below, he saw Yuri reaching for his holstered pistol. Kilkenny swung his arms over the edge of the trailer and grasped his weapon with both hands. Aiming down at Yuri, Kilkenny fired two rounds from the elongated Glock that instantaneously penetrated the man’s skull. Yuri’s head snapped sideways and he collapsed where he stood, his pistol clattering on the concrete dock.
Instinctively, Leskov leapt off the dock, seeking cover. Two more rounds chased after him, chiseling holes in the concrete where he had stood. He had gotten only a brief look at the shooter, but he recognized him immediately. With three of his men dead, Leskov knew that Nolan Kilkenny was more than had been reported to him.
Leskov grabbed the short ladder on the passenger side of the semi and pulled himself up to the window.
‘Josef, Kilkenny is on top of the trailer. He’s killed Yuri. Cover your side of the truck and meet me at the dock.’
Josef nodded, pulled out his pistol, and checked the mirrors – his side of the truck was clear.
Kilkenny slid over
the edge and dropped down, almost landing atop the man he’d just shot. Crouching with the Glock extended at eye level, he scanned the dock for targets. It was clear.
Time to haul ass, Kilkenny thought as he chambered a round, then popped the half-spent clip out of the Glock and slipped in a full one.
Keeping his eyes fixed on the edges of the trailer, Kilkenny grasped the abandoned cart with his left hand and pushed. But one of the turning wheels was jammed in place, stubbornly refusing to rotate into position. Kilkenny furiously kicked the cart twice before the wheel freed up and began rolling smoothly. Once through the doorway, he pulled the double doors closed, then turned down a corridor, hopefully bringing Kelsey toward safety.
As if their timing were choreographed, Leskov and Josef reached the rear of the trailer simultaneously and, with their weapons poised, swept the dock for a target. Kilkenny and the woman were gone – the wide double doors that led into Nieuwland Science Hall were closed. Only Yuri remained, facedown in a growing pool of his own blood.
‘Get Yuri,’ Leskov ordered. ‘I’ll cover you.’
Leskov pulled himself onto the dock and took position beside the doors. Josef holstered his pistol, released the catch on the open trailer door, and hoisted himself onto the dock. Quickly, with little consideration for the dead, other than he didn’t wish to join them, Josef hefted Yuri’s body atop the others and latched the trailer door shut. Josef then slipped the U-shaped bolt of a padlock through the door latch and shut it.
‘Done. Let’s get away from this fucking place.’
9
JUNE 23
South Bend, Indiana
‘Nolan,’ Kelsey moaned weakly, her mind still getting reacquainted with her body as she carefully pulled herself into a sitting position.
‘I’m here, honey.’
Carefully looking around the corner at the double doors of the loading dock, Nolan saw the semi pulling away. Relieved, he holstered the Glock and sat beside Kelsey.
‘How are you feeling?’
‘Numb. Kind of tingly, like my whole body went to sleep. They shot us with something.’
‘Probably some kind of stun gun.’ He picked up her hand, and her trembling stopped – just nerves.
Inside Sandstrom’s lab, the second bag ruptured in the sink. Its milky white contents oozed out, then slowly drifted down toward the bottom of the sink. When the contents of the second bag reached the layer formed along the basin by the first, the chemicals ignited in a hypergolic reaction. The initial flash was enough to evaporate the water in the sink. In less than a second from the initial contact, a whitehot fireball erupted inside the lab. The sink, and the bench it was set in, vaporized instantaneously.
A low rumble resonated through the building; lights flickered and dust fell from the ceiling as a shock wave telegraphed the concussive energy of an explosion through the structure around them. A moment later the highdecibel wail of the fire alarm punished their ears.
‘Where are Ted and Raphaele?’ Kelsey shouted over the din, her recovery almost complete.
‘I think they’re still upstairs. Come on, we gotta get out of here.’
He carefully helped Kelsey up; then, with one arm around her for support, he quickly walked her toward a side entry. She gained confidence with each step, easily keeping up with his increased pace by the time they reached the lawn in front of Nieuwland Hall.
A pall of smoke billowed out of a series of windows on the second floor where Sandstrom’s lab had been.
‘Oh my God,’ Kelsey cried, sickened by the thought of the two men trapped in the blaze.
A parade of flashing red and blue lights raced down Cavanaugh Road as a convoy of emergency vehicles from the Notre Dame campus police and the South Bend Fire Department converged on the burning science building.
By the time Nolan and Kelsey ran around the building to the loading dock, police officers were starting to secure the area and firefighters were pouring out of their yellow rigs.
‘Hey, stay back!’ a cop shouted as they approached.
‘We were inside when it happened, Officer,’ Nolan announced, ignoring the request. ‘The fire’s in a lab on the second floor. Two people may still be up there; they were unconscious before the blast.’
‘Keep your hands where I can see them,’ the cop demanded sternly when he spotted the combat knife strapped to Nolan’s leg and the shoulder holster tucked under his armpit.
Nolan understood immediately and slowly placed his hands behind his head.
The cop, a fifteen-year veteran of the force, eyed the pair warily. Both were disheveled, and the bloodstained man looked as though he had been to hell and back. The cop reached out and plucked the Glock from Nolan’s holster.
‘There’s another one in my waistband,’ Nolan offered, twisting his torso to offer a partial view of his back.
The cop’s demeanor eased slightly at this show of good faith. He quickly confiscated the second pistol as well as Nolan’s knife.
‘Military issue,’ the cop commented as he eyed the black-handled blade. ‘Looks a little bloody. Anything else?’
‘Nothing other than a spare clip in my pocket.’
‘You can put ’em down.’ The cop checked the safeties on the pistols and signaled for the fire chief.
A stocky man encased in the bulky protective fire gear jogged over from the pumper truck.
‘Yeah, whatcha want?’ the firefighter asked.
‘Tell him what you told me,’ the cop ordered. ‘Then you and I are going to have a chat.’
‘The lab’s up on the second floor, far end of the corridor. There are two people still inside. They didn’t get out before the blast. We haven’t seen anyone else in the building all day.’
The chief nodded, then jogged away, calling several members of his crew over to map out a plan of attack.
‘Interesting artillery you got here. Now, take a walk with me,’ the cop commanded.
They headed over to a police cruiser parked on the grass. The cop tossed the confiscated weapons in his trunk and closed the lid. He then led them over to the paramedic truck.
‘What’s up?’ the paramedic asked.
‘Leg wound,’ the cop replied. ‘Take a look while I have a talk with these nice people.’
The paramedic carefully peeled off Nolan’s field dressing. ‘Jesus, we got us a gunshot wound. Clean through, all meat. I can clean ya up, but you’ll want this looked at in the ER.’
‘I just know there’s an interesting story about how you acquired that,’ the cop said, eyeing the hole in Nolan’s thigh. ‘Let’s start with your names.’
Nolan and Kelsey identified themselves and explained the reason for their presence on campus. The cop jotted down shorthand notes in a pocket pad as the story unfolded. An incredulous look swept over the cop’s face when Nolan calmly described killing three men. For Nolan, this was no different from the postmission debriefs from his SEAL days.
‘—and when we heard the sirens, we came over to tell you about Sandstrom and Paramo,’ Nolan concluded.
‘Officer,’ Kelsey added, ‘these men, whoever they were, have stolen valuable laboratory equipment and over a decade’s worth of irreplaceable research.’
‘Professor Newton, I’ll put the word out on the truck and the Blazer. Maybe we’ll get lucky.’
The cop turned and made a beeline for the elevated dock, all the while issuing a barrage of requests into the radio mike clipped to his left shoulder. At the dock, he found the bloodstains and put the call in for Homicide and Forensics.
As the paramedic finished treating Nolan’s leg, two teams of firefighters covered with soot rushed out of the building. Each team carried the supine form of one of the injured physicists strapped to a bright red backboard.
The paramedics and newly arrived EMTs met the firefighters halfway and started work on their patients as the backboards hit the gurneys.
‘I got a pulse,’ one shouted. ‘Weak, but there.’
From where they
stood, Nolan and Kelsey saw that the burns were serious. Charred flesh, a blend of oozing red and black, covered the entire right side of Ted Sandstrom’s body.
‘This one’s dead,’ an EMT working on Paramo announced clinically.
‘Oh God,’ Kelsey sobbed as she turned and pressed herself into Nolan’s chest, his arms holding her. ‘That dear, sweet’ – her voice cracked with emotion – ‘old man.’
10
JUNE 23
South Bend, Indiana
After Nolan and Kelsey received treatment for their injuries, the Notre Dame campus police transported them back to Nieuwland Hall. The blaze that had engulfed Sandstrom’s lab was now extinguished, and the exhausted fire crews were slowly stowing their gear. A ribbon of yellow tape surrounded the damaged building, declaring it off-limits while the authorities investigated the incident. Nolan saw a team of forensic technicians photographing the crime scene and gathering evidence around the loading dock.
When the police car reached the cordoned-off area, a man and a woman walked over to meet the vehicle. Over their suits, both wore dark blue windbreakers stenciled with the letters FBI.
‘Mr Kilkenny, I’m Special Agent Harris,’ the woman announced. ‘This is my partner, Special Agent Young. We’d like to have a word with you and Ms Newton.’
‘Of course,’ Nolan replied.
‘Can you tell us exactly what happened?’
Nolan launched into the chronology of events, starting when he and Kelsey had arrived in South Bend the previous evening. The agents waited until the end of his narrative before asking questions for clarification on various points of the attack and details regarding Sandstrom’s research on quantum energy cells.
