by M. W. Duncan
Eric rounded a corner. Gemma stood at the door to his room, her arms crossed, back against the wall.
“You’ve seen what’s happened?” said Gemma, pushing herself from the wall. “Have you been watching TV? The news?”
“No. I thought the TV signal was off.”
“It’s coming and going,” she said, her face flushed. “I’ll tell you what’s going on. A reporter has made it through the quarantine zone and is reporting from inside the city. Inside the city, Eric. Williamson promised me that story. I was going to break it. I’ve got half a mind to march into his room and tell him just what I think.”
“I don’t think Williamson is in control of what happens outside this hotel. If he indicated to you that he’d let you break the story at some point then I’m sure it was genuine.”
“But it’s not fair. I’ve risked everything to get all this evidence.”
“Gemma, Williamson has lost a lot of men. His company is in danger of folding, and may face criminal charges once this is all done. You’re a tiny part, a minor part. I know that seems harsh but that’s the reality.”
Gemma wiped a hand over her face. “This was supposed to change everything for me.”
“You’re being paid for your time and effort, and not a small amount. If I was guessing I’d say that Williamson can manage to get you a pass out of the city soon. There’s going to be no work for us here.”
“Things were supposed to be different,” she said in a whisper.
“Get some sleep, Gemma. It’s late.”
“What about you?”
“I need to go and speak to Williamson, then I’ll turn in.”
She wished Eric a good night, her eyes red and watery. He could understand her frustration, she had risked a lot.
Eric walked on past his door. He knocked on Williamson’s door and let himself in. Williamson sat in his usual spot, in the chair, tapping slowly at his laptop.
“You look like something’s bothering you, Eric.”
“I bumped into Gemma Findlay, or rather she bumped into me. She’s upset. Apparently, there’s a reporter who’s made it through the quarantine and is reporting from inside. She thinks that was her right.”
“She’s got a point. I did promise her the opportunity to break the story, a personal report from the heart of the outbreak. But I don’t suppose the CAF will tolerate these broadcasts and will shut them down soon enough. Gemma doesn’t know it yet, but with the footage and information she has, she’s likely to make a small fortune.”
“Might be worth having a word with her, you don’t want her doing anything rash through frustration.”
“Tomorrow, Eric. I’ll speak with her first thing. Sit down.”
Eric slumped into the chair, a familiar place. “What’s been going on out there?”
“The same as always, Eric. I’m very much out of the loop now but I hear more than most. CAF forces are continuing to sweep and clear as they move inward through the city. Nests of infection spring up. They’ve shifted from containment to eradication.”
“We always knew this would happen, didn’t we?”
“It was always the most likely outcome. They’ve realised the only way to stem the tide of infection is to eliminate it. As morally wrong as it seems, it’s the only practical solution.”
Eric shook his head, then leaned further into the chair tilting his face to the ceiling.
“We’re being stepped down, Eric. Soon the provision of this hotel will be taken from us, I’m sure. There’s a huge surge in multinational military in the city. What use is there for a depleted private security firm in this ever evolving situation? Black Aquila in its present form will cease. We need to restructure and reorganise. I’ll be lucky to come out of this with the company still in my control.” He waved his hand. “Anyway, that isn’t your concern. If we are to stand down, until such a time as we can honour our existing contracts, you’ll be able to go home, get that time with your family that you’ve been craving.”
“That wouldn’t be a bad thing for all of us, Ben.”
The doors to the room were thrown open. Carter, leg heavily strapped, carried two AR-15s. Eric was on his feet in a flash.
“What’s this?” asked Williamson, standing.
“Trouble,” replied Carter.
He threw a weapon to Eric.
“What do you mean?”
Short, sharp explosions rocked the building.
***
Ryan Bannister burst through the veil of sleep, eyes fixed on the slow rotation of the fan above him. Ryan had not slept well since the last meeting with Hector Crispin. Each time he fell asleep, horrendous nightmares came. Falling from the summit of a mountain to the rocks below. Brushing his teeth, and one by one they yellowed and crumbled like chalk. In one, he saw his father outside the window, his hand weakly tapping the glass. His mouth moved but no words came. Ryan could not speak or wave a hand. The next, he walked the streets of a world drowning under a tide of infection, and they all came for him.
There seemed no escape from Crispin. Ryan had come to regret every choice that lead him to becoming embroiled with The Owls of Athena.
He closed his eyes and wiped the sweat from his forehead, then pushed the thin sheets down. It was not so much the temperature in the building, rather the panic of the situation. Had this all been preordained by a father he hardly knew? Why? How? He would certainly hate his father, if he ever held a feeling for the man.
The bedroom door clicked open, the sound sudden and unwelcome. Ryan kept his eyes pressed shut, hoping beyond hope that a sudden breeze blew through the building, knocking the lock off its latch. Light footsteps scuffed along the wooden floor, growing louder as they approached. Whoever stood next to his bed set a glass bottle down heavily.
“Ryan, wake up.”
Hector Crispin stood to the right of his bed, and far behind was Steven Rennie, his foot keeping the bedroom door open.
“You’re awake. Good.” Hector swayed slightly. The bottle of red wine he entered with was close to empty. Hector was drunk. He was without his suit jacket, his tie loosened and the first three buttons of his shirt undone.
“Is everything alright, Mr. Crispin?” said Ryan, pulling the sheet up to cover himself.
Hector sat down heavily onto the bed and Ryan shimmied over, giving the man some space.
“I’ve been drinking. Quite a lot if the truth be told. And I’ll tell you why. One of our agents, one of the most important ones, Andor Toth has gone dark. He was the linchpin of this whole operation. We’ve tracked him with a sub-dermal implant, and he is on the move. This brings us to one of two things. He is either no longer taking orders from us, or he is being held against his will. Either forces us into a problematic situation. The Owls of Athena have voted to put into practice The Athena Protocol. Don’t speak, Ryan, just listen. The Athena Protocol dictates that when one of our key agents in the field is compromised we move forward with the immediate release of the Carrion Virus. Despite all our assets not being in place, we can’t afford to wait. It’s times like these I wish your father was still here. He and I were lovers, you realise?”
Ryan sat up.
“And for a long time until he passed away, far too prematurely. Such a loss. If only he was here now so I didn’t need to face this alone.”
What the hell was this guy saying? His father was dead? His dead father was his lover? As far as Ryan knew, his father was working away, not sharing a bed with another man, not dead. Nothing made sense.
Rennie’s eyes fell to Ryan. In warning? There was no need. Ryan had no intention of asking questions. He’d tried that before and regretted it.
Hector snatched up the bottle and took another mouthful.
“Things will happen rapidly over the next few weeks. You’ll be put in the field, doing what you do best. Exactly what you did in Aberdeen. You’ll be sent out into the world to orchestrate more outbreaks, and on a much grander scale. You see, I need people I can trust. Despite the relativ
ely short time we’ve known each other, I need you, Ryan. On the reverse side, you need me and The Owls for survival.” Hector laughed, a sound which faltered to the point that it could have been tears.
Hector pushed the bottle toward Ryan who tentatively accepted. “Now take a drink.”
Ryan, sniffed the wine. He estimated half a mouthful remained.
“It’s a celebration of the realisation of The Owls of Athena’s purpose being fulfilled. It’s also a toast to the end of all things to come.”
Ryan sipped at the sour wine, just enough to satisfy Hector’s insistence. He handed the bottle back. Hector raised it high, one eye studying the bottle. He shook it slightly.
“Get some sleep, Ryan. Soon, there will be precious little of that.”
“Rennie,” called Hector. “Send the team to intercept Toth.”
Hector patted Ryan’s leg. “If I had another bottle with me, we would make a toast, to the end of everything.”
***
As he did every night, Dr. Holden walked through the corridor of the hotel, leaving the sanctuary of his room. Several key members had rapped at his door earlier but he refused to answer. He had kept the door locked, and a chair leaning against the handle. Everyone he could possibly come into contact with in the hotel wanted something from him, and there was nothing left for Holden to give. He was spent. Broken. Empty. Apathetic. The Carrion Virus robbed him of his fundamental trait to help others.
His nightly pilgrimage lead him to the canteen. It was quiet at that time. The only people venturing that way were catering staff and those who would rather not be alone at night.
In the canteen he pulled a blackened banana free from a bunch and placed it on a tray, moved along the counter, picked up yogurt, cereal and poured a steaming hot coffee.
Nobody seemed interested in his passing, most kept their own company or talked in hushed voices. All looked dreadful, stressed and tired. A perfect mirror for Holden.
Holden nodded to a woman in her robe. Her eyes were heavy, as if she was medicated. More than likely it was nightmares that kept her awake.
A ping from a microwave sounded near the kitchen. Holden shook a sachet of sugar and emptied it into his coffee. There were no spoons. He used a pen to stir. He pushed his glasses up onto his forehead, then wrapped his hands around the mug. The warmth was welcome and at the same time a little uncomfortable.
Holden had decide his course of action. He was still wanted by authorities over the breach in Aberdeen. Holden would surrender himself to the CAF forces and allow a thorough investigation to take place. He no longer cared about his reputation built on a lifetime of good work, now ruined by lies and consequence.
Eric would help him move from the hotel to the CAF barracks at the airport, he was sure. He would have to visit Jane in the field hospital and also thank Eric personally for rescuing him. Tomorrow would be a long day, but a welcome one, the day when Eugene Holden would be removed from the outbreak.
Holden sipped his coffee lost in thoughts of what would come.
An explosion erupted with the suddenness of overhead thunder. It rocked the building, and Holden spilled his drink, scalding his free hand. A second explosion forced Holden from his seat to his knees, and beneath the table. One of his companion diners screamed. The lights went out, plunging the room into darkness.
“Don’t panic,” shouted a male voice. “It’s a power outage. The grid must have been damaged. That’s what the explosions would have been.”
“Has anyone got a light?” asked a female voice, seconds away from tears.
“We should all try to reach each other,” the male said.
“No,” shouted Holden. “Stay where you are. You can’t see where you’re walking. You could hurt yourself. Stay where you are until the lights come back on.”
Beyond the canteen, someone screamed. Commotion, and raised voices. Strong, piercing beams of light moved toward them up the corridor from the reception area. The silhouettes of armed men in combat gear entered the canteen. They took up position at the door, standing either side. The torches moved along the canteen walls, and over the tables.
Why were they armed if they were there to help? The collective light from the new arrivals allowed Holden to see a small amount. One of the men who sat not far from Holden, stood and walked toward the new arrivals.
“You’ve got a lot of nervous people here, friends. We were starting to panic when the lights went out.”
The soldier who seemed to be directing others stepped forward, and drove the stock of his weapon into the face of the approaching man. He crumbled to the floor with a low grown. The leader stepped over the fallen man.
“We are looking for Doctor Eugene Holden. If he is here, he should make himself known.” He spoke with a heavily accented voice, possibly Afrikaans.
A stab of terror penetrated Holden’s core. Why did they know him by name? And searching for him?
“Make yourself know, Doctor Holden, and everyone else may go unharmed.”
More darkly clad men arrived. They brought with them Black Aquila staff gathered from the reception area. They were ushered over to the far side of the room, next to a long table.
“Doctor Holden? We are here for your protection.”
A Black Aquila guard locked eyes with the doctor, and shook his head in warning, a slight movement not seen by others.
Holden stayed on his knees.
“You’ll all be held here until we find the doctor. We cannot guarantee your safety.”
“There!” The woman in the robe stood from her seat and pointed. Her outstretched hand shook. “That’s Doctor Holden. There. On the floor.”
The leader shined a light into his face.
“Stand up, Doctor.”
Holden did as was bid, standing on legs that felt as though they could give way at any moment.
The leader gripped his face, turning it from side to side. “It is you.”
“What do you want?”
The leader clicked off the light, leaving Holden blinded.
“From you? Nothing, Doctor. Nothing at all.”
***
“What the hell was that?” Eric checked his weapon, making sure it was serviced.
Carter, grimacing with the effort of walking, leaned on the edge of the sofa.
“The hotel’s surrounded. They’ve taken out our sentries.”
“Who?” demanded Williamson, his face set to outrage.
“Doesn’t matter. They’re killing our people,” said Carter.
“How many?”
“A lot.”
Williamson opened a secured table safe, and pulled out a Glock and magazines.
“Eric, get us support from the CAF units at the airport,” said Williamson.
Eric crossed to the table where several laptops were networked. He picked up a radio receiver, hearing nothing but the dead tone and slammed it back to the cradle.
“The line’s cut. Satellite phone maybe?”
“We’d never get through. I don’t think nine nine nine works anymore.”
“We’re on our own then,” said Carter.
Heavy footfall came outside the room. Eric pushed himself to the wall, on the threshold of the door, holding his weapon ready. So much for quiet time, he thought. More people trying to kill him without apparent reason.
It was his team, armed and kitted out for a fight.
The lights in the room and corridor failed, plunging them into near darkness, the light from the laptop screens the only real source.
Williamson said, “We’re being attacked by forces not yet identified. We’ve no choice but to engage lethal force. I’m not your employer asking you to fight, we’re fighting for our lives, all of us. We fight. We win. You all go home.”
There was a rumble of agreement.
“Move out, sweep the floors, top to bottom. You know the drill.”
They filed out, Carter hobbling after them. Eric was about to follow, to take charge of his men when Williamson st
opped him.
“Eric, when you asked about The Owls of Athena, I didn’t tell you the whole truth.”
“You’ve picked a difficult time to be honest, Ben.”
He spoke quickly. “Brutus came to me, a few days into our deployment here. He talked about an agency with a lot of resources looking for an in to the city and virus. The money was almost too good to question. He offered it all, and for a seemingly small price to ourselves. We needed to share key information with them, and allow certain operatives to work under our Black Aquila banner. Obviously, I had my company to think about. I couldn’t throw that away so I turned him down.”
“Brutus was the facilitator?”
“Yes.”
“The Owls of Athena and Brutus?”
“I don’t know how deep it runs, Eric. I promise you that. You know Brutus and his quest for money. He’d do anything.”
“He did everything, Ben. He killed your men. My men.”
“I needed everyone. I needed his experience. It was my mistake.”
“But Black Aquila has still been infiltrated by The Owls of Athena? That business with Doctor Holden in the forest and the research centre, they did it even though you turned them down?”
“If the money Brutus was offering was a fair assessment of resources they have access to, then I’ve no doubt they could pay off just about anyone.”
“And when we rescued Doctor Holden that put Black Aquila in direct conflict with The Owls?”
“Yes.”
“So the men outside are a kill team sent to remove us since we’ve now become a potential threat?”
“That’s what I assume.”
Eric shook his head. “If what you’ve told me is true, they’ll never stop until we’re eradicated.”
“I’ve got some ideas on what we should do next, Eric.”
“If we survive this, Ben, then we’ll talk.”
Ben loaded his Glock and followed Eric.
The two men reached the rest of the team. A few had tactical lights on the rails of their rifles. They shined their lights on a corpse, collapsed on the floor. A woman, her torso punctured by high-powered rounds. The window where she stood was cracked, two bullet holes sitting like beady eyes.
