The hallway was bare. Naked wood-paneled walls. White speckled laminate flooring that curled at the edges where water had seeped down the walls. Dark squares on the walls outlined where photos or plaques used to hang along the hall. Only a few of the dim lights mounted along the ceiling were working. Even those flickered without rhythm.
The second guard was shorter than the first, standing only three to four inches over the man’s shoulders. Yet, he looked solid, his form fitting black shirt rippled with muscle, as did the first guard's. His face was rugged and tough, a scar ran along his jaw line.
The guard continued to search Ethan’s pockets, getting a little too close for comfort to the transmitter in his jeans. Once the guard was sure Ethan was clean he nodded to the other guard.
“Turn around and give me your hands,” the second guard ordered, his voice an octave higher than Ethan expected from the stout figure before him.
Ethan obeyed, lowering his hands. Painfully the man wrenched Ethan’s arms behind him and pulled a set of zip-ties from his pocket. With little care, he fastened one around each of Ethan’s wrists and interlocked them together. The plastic seared Ethan’s wrists as they were tightened. He restrained his protest, grimacing.
“When will I see Abrams?” Ethan dared ask.
“Shut up, we’ll get you there when we’re ready,” the first guard blurted, already tired of his new keep.
The shorter guard spoke into his headset, “Sir, we have your guest. Making our way back now.”
Guest? I sure don’t feel like a guest.
Ethan’s stomach dropped. He knew who “sir” was.
The guard shoved an unwelcome object against Ethan’s lower back. One of the AR-15s that had been strapped around the guards when he entered the building. They definitely knew how to motivate compliance.
“Walk.”
Gray, be careful.
CHAPTER 57
January 31 at 7:50 p.m. EST
Winchester, VA
Hefty evergreens brimming with snow swayed in the late night gale. Barren limbs mummified in crystalline ice swayed and sagged low, shielding Gray from the brunt of the storm.
Still Gray squinted to keep the ice from crashing into his eyes. He pulled his jacket tighter, navigating north as best he could through the small patch of woods. The snow was at least a half foot deep and had been undisturbed until Gray entered the tree-line.
Gray shivered as he high-stepped through the snow. At least there was no need to tread quietly or obscure his tracks. The howl of the wind and cracking of branches muzzled his footsteps and even under the cover of tree branches the storm quickly stamped out any trace of his path.
Minutes ago Austin had dropped him off on the opposite side of this tiny suburban forest. Gray had reminded Austin to record everything before heading out. It had been unnecessary, but helped calm his addled nerves, as if the mere verbalizing of the idea would ensure a positive outcome.
Even if they did not make it out, Gray hoped the recording would reveal enough to clear their names. If they failed the responsibility of getting that information into the right hands would fall fully on Austin.
“Ethan’s about sixty yards away from the warehouse Gray,” Austin updated him over the headset. “You’ve got another hundred and fifteen yards until you reach the opposite edge of the tree-line, just north of your position.”
“Copy that,” Gray confirmed and quickened his pace. He intended to be in position before Ethan gave himself up to Abrams. Above, a branch cracked under the weight of the ice, crashing down in front of him. Gray caught the limb in the circle of his flashlight just in time and jumped to the side to miss it.
Ahead he saw the end of the small forest as he closed in on the man-made tree-line. He came to a stop at the edge and flicked off the flashlight, placing a hand on a nearby trunk to steady himself. He drew in a deep breath of stinging cold air and surveyed the area.
Uninhibited by a canopy of glassy branches and pine leaves the open expanse was inundated with heavy snow. White and grey sheets enveloped everything and the harsh snow charged winds made visibility a nightmare.
The map he had attempted to memorize before heading out had shown a road between the forest and warehouse beyond the tree-line. It was nowhere in sight, shrouded in snowdrift, but Gray was sure he was in the right place. About twenty yards out to his left he eyed a long rectangular object. Through the blizzard Gray spied the top half of a set of wheels jutting above the snow below the weight of a bulky trailer; an old semi-truck trailer.
He worked to get his bearings among the achromatic scene before him. If the trailer was on the dividing road, the warehouse should be about another ninety yards north.
For the first time, he thanked God for the blizzard and almost immediately repented for the lapse. Running the open space between the forest and warehouse would have been suicide on any other day. Yet tonight, the down pouring of sleet and snow gave Gray the advantage, even if his legs shivered against the wet lining of his layered jeans. It was doable.
Maybe someone is watching out for us.
“How close is Ethan?” Gray asked, tapping his earpiece.
“He’s about twenty yards from the front entrance,” Austin responded.
“Got it. I’m going to get a little closer, and settle in until he’s inside,” Gray informed Austin.
“Copy that,” Austin confirmed.
Gray stole a glance to his right, and then left, before exiting the tree-line. He sprinted across the opening toward the abandoned trailer. His feet were heavy as he fought to step lightly through the thick snowfall. Finally across, he crouched at the southern end of the trailer and breathed heavily. He placed a hand on his holstered pistol to reassure himself of its presence.
Around the corner the outline of three more trailers took form in the distance about sixty yards out. The wind slapped him in the face. Gray pushed off the trailer and ran as fast as his legs would take him through the deep snow. His breath whipped by his ears in quickly vanishing fogs, his legs burned from the unusual effort.
He kept his eyes darting from side to side, waiting for the building to come in to sight. Gray knew that once he had a visual of the warehouse they could see him. He would have to be more careful at that point on his approach.
Finally, he reached the set of trailers and let himself prop up against the edge of the metal box, pulling in a gulp of air and snow. He bent around the corner. A gust of snow and ice beat into his flesh sending a quick shiver down his spine. He squinted, peering through the snow. There it was, only another twenty yards out.
Through the blizzard Gray’s eyes made out the faint features of the warehouse. It was a large rectangular facility with no inherent attempt at pageantry. At least none he could tell in the whitewash. Gray squinted, attempting to see through the cutting sleet. Ahead sat the entrance, the old offloading bay where another semi-trailers was still hooked to a docking bay.
He breathed deeply, the dry air burnt as he gulped it in. Gray retrieved his pistol and made certain the silencer was secure. As he peered around the bend he wondered how many men where inside.
Are there any traps? How heavily armed are they? Can I reach Ethan and Kate soon enough?
So many things could go wrong, almost all of it beyond his control. He could be out-manned, out-gunned, or simply too short on time and there was no way to know until it was too late.
He took in another deep breath, watching the steam when he exhaled quickly vanish in the harsh wind.
“Gray,” Austin came on the line, his voice less enthusiastic than earlier. “Ethan just entered the building.”
Gray paused, let out a short puff of air, and replied, “I’m going in.”
CHAPTER 58
January 31 at 8:01 p.m. EST
Winchester, VA
Ethan watched the shorter guard carefully as he led the way down the hall. He had a diminutive limp, likely a vestige of some long past accident. It revealed itself only slightly each time his l
eft foot met the ground. His right hand never left the rifle grip hanging in front of his chest and he kept his eyes straight forward. He appeared to have full confidence in his taller counterpart whose rifle muzzle awkwardly pressed against Ethan’s back. A constant reminder of who was in control.
It worked, pushing him forward with the occasional barking of a baritone voice. Both were professionals, their strides purposeful, watching, waiting for Ethan to make a move. That would not happen, he could not risk it. Not until he knew Kate was safe.
Dressed from neck to toe in unmarked black military-like suites and black boots, each held an AR-15 and a pistol holstered on their belts.
Definitely not FBI. But is it Cerberus?
He wanted to break free. It seemed natural to want to escape, but beyond all reason, being held captive was the goal now.
The hallway ahead was lit unevenly by a few florescent bulbs, at least the ones that seemed to work. Cold water from the winter storm outside dripped into small puddles on the floor through browning ceiling tiles. A musty odor complimented the dust covered walls.
“So it’s just you two out here?” Ethan spoke up trying to hold back the stutter in his voice. “Seems a bit lonely.”
The taller guard shoved the rifle harder into Ethan’s back. “We’ve got more than enough help to keep you in and your friends out. Now shut up and walk.”
The other guard finally looked back at Ethan in scorn and then returned his gaze forward. Ethan twisted, trying to ease the pain in his back. He had not got a number, but it was something. There were at least three of them counting Abrams.
That’s more than I knew a few minutes ago.
He willed Gray to be careful in his head, imagining men around dark corners waiting for him to enter. Gray could handle himself, but the unknown still tore at Ethan.
CHAPTER 59
January 31 at 8:02 p.m. EST
Winchester, VA
The open space stunk of rotting wood. Yet, Gray preferred the stench to the blizzard outside. He soaked in the heat, sighing quietly.
Gray had found an unlocked side entrance on one of the old semi-trailers still hooked up to one of the offloading bay doors. He had escaped the brutal sleet and wind through a metal side-door. The trailer was mostly empty beside a few abandoned cardboard boxes and a wooden crate near the back. Back in the day it must have been full of light bulbs, but now the space stood mostly void.
Gray retrieved his pistol, holding it low and ready as he hastily covered the length of the trailer. The dock opened into a dark empty space about twenty yards wide. Squinting, Gray made out a few rows of crates lining the south wall and a series of doors dotting the eastern and northern walls. The expanse between walls was monstrous. From the facility's blueprints Gray assumed it had served as the warehouse’s primary loading bay before it had been abandoned. Now it was stark and empty.
“Alright Austin, I’m in,” Gray whispered. “I’ve got two doors on the northern wall and one on the eastern wall.”
Gray waited as Austin apparently studied the map. He knew Austin was trying to postulate where Ethan was being taken based on his current movements. Gray waited, trying to be patient.
“Um…” Austin muttered, “Take the right most door on the northern wall. It opens up to a forked hallway. Take the right fork.”
“Copy that. Moving out.”
Gray took a final glance around the empty room and then stepped out of the trailer and onto a cement floor. He kept to the edge of the room, pistol low and ready, eyes darting back and forth across the room, Gray passed the first door.
He came to a stop by the door and whispered a prayer before turning the knob. A quiet click sounded as the bolt left its home and he cracked the door open and peeked in.
Other than a faint flickering glow from an old florescent light and a small water puddle, the hall was empty from his vantage point. Gray pulled the door open enough to slide through and entered the hallway. He scanned carefully as he moved forward.
“Gray, Ethan has made contact with Abrams. I think I have his final position now,” Austin informed him, his voice uneasy.
“Go ahead,” Gray said, trying to keep his emotions at bay.
“About four yards ahead of you there is a hallway that breaks off to your right. Pass it and follow the hall as it turns left about another twenty yards down.”
“Got it,” Gray confirmed and continued walking. Ahead he could see the first hallway. The steady dripping of a leaky ceiling into a lone puddle echoed further ahead.
Slowing as he closed in on the hallway, he caught a quiet ruffling noise. Then again. Footsteps.
He froze just beyond the hallway, listening. A voice echoed quietly down the hall, then another. He could not make out what they were saying, but it seemed they were unaware of his presence. Good.
Raising his pistol, Gray took a deep breath, and slowly edged his eye around the corner. About fifteen yards down the hall stood two men, decked out in black and armed with what he thought looked like AR-15s.
The echo of the halls made the men seem closer to him. Pistol aimed and ready, Gray quietly passed the intersection and moved on unseen.
Around the corner, Gray could hear the sound of another leak dripping from the tiled roof. He stopped at the turn in the hallway once again edging outward to check around the bend. Empty.
“Alright, take the third door on the right,” Austin decided. “It leads into a larger room, maybe an old storage room. I’m going to take you through a few rooms, bypass the hallways, and hopefully get you to Ethan quicker.”
“Copy that,” Gray confirmed as quietly as he could.
Gray stepped carefully, closing the distance between him and his objective. Carefully he turned the doorknob and pushed without a sound. He stepped into the room, gun sweeping the area.
The room seemed clear. Large metal racks lined the right wall stacked with boxes of old parts that the company had left behind. He peered around the racks before moving silently navigating among the boxes.
Abruptly he felt something slam into his wrist, knocking his Glock from his grip. The weapon clanged to the ground as a fist crashed into his cheekbone, knocking him back.
Gray rebounded from the sudden attack. His eyes darted between the new figure in the room and the Glock lying on the ground. He lunged forward, narrowly missing another blow, and struck the man deep under his stomach, wrapping his free arm around the figure’s waist. He let out a fury of punches into the same location, inducing a moan of pain from the shadowy figure.
A knee to his chest shoved the air from his lungs. He stumbled back, gasping to get his breath back. This time he locked eyes with his opponent. Dark brown, almost black in the low-lit room, high cheekbones outlining a middle-aged face. His expression was stoic.
“Gray, you’ll need to take the double doors at the opposite end of the room,” Austin said.
Gray brought his fists up and swung. The man blocked the punch with his left arm and sent a fist crashing into Gray’s jaw. He grunted as a barrage of punches pinned him against the metal racks. The guard’s face remained emotionless, pounding away like it was practice.
“Gray,” Austin called over the headset. “Why’d you stop? You need to keep going.”
Gray had no time to respond. Suddenly the man grabbed him by the collar, picking Gray off the ground and slamming him into the metal racks again. Pain rushed up his side as he crumpled to the ground.
He groaned, trying to shake off the throbbing. A faint glint of light caught Gray’s attention as it shot toward him. Mechanically he threw his body to the side and grabbed the guard’s hand as the knife rushed toward his face. Wrenching his body backward he forced the knife out of the man’s grasp. It clanked to the floor.
Gray hauled himself back to his feet and sprinted forward. He wrapped his arms around the man’s waist and plowed him back into the wall. Gray heard the man huff as the air fled from his lungs. He stepped back and brought his knee sharply into the man’s sto
mach.
He seemed oblivious to the blows once he regained his breath. Throwing his weight forward he shoved Gray back. Gray stumbled backward as a fist slammed across his face, followed by a steady barrage of punches to the chest.
This is not an even match.
Gray darted his eyes around searching for the pistol between blows and grunts. He found it lying on the ground ten feet away. It was too far, but his opponent had already got the message.
The guard bolted forward to snatch the pistol. Gray lunged forward and charged into his side, wrapping his arms around him from behind, knocking the guard off balance. Violently they slammed against the racks and crashed to the floor. Gray grunted as the man’s full weight came down on to him.
“Gray?” Austin called out again. “Are you alright?”
“Sort of busy,” Gray wasted no time. The guard jerked forward, reaching out for the pistol just a foot out of his grasp. Gray wrapped his arms around the man’s throat putting him in a tight headlock.
Gray squeezed hard around his neck as the man tried to pull his chin down to keep the air flowing. Gasping for air, the guard ceased his attempt to reach the pistol. Instead, he thrashed back and forth, piercing his elbows into Gray’s sides. Gray winced with each blow, but held his grip firm. His life depended on it.
Leaning back painfully over a steel rack, Gray constricted his arm around the man’s neck; his mind oblivious to the man’s kicking and rasping for air. Pain flared in his sides. Without thinking Gray lightened his grip.
The guard did not hesitate, slipping just enough to get his chin between Gray’s arms and away from his neck. He gasped for a full breath as Gray tightened his grip precariously just under the man’s nose and ear. He clinched his arm tight around the man’s face. His other arm aimlessly pounded away at the man’s chest.
Suddenly Gray felt a deep sting in his arm. He growled in pain, the bastard had bit him. Reflexively loosening his grip, the man slipped a little closer to the pistol. Gray tightened his grip again, lunging forward just enough to get his arm over the guard’s cheek. He made certain to avoid the bite of his teeth again.
They'll Call It Treason Page 25
