No Sanctuary Box Set: The No Sanctuary Omnibus - Books 1-6

by Mike Kraus

  Linda opens her clutch and pulls out her phone. She presses the power button and the screen lights up, displaying the time for both herself and Namazi. “In ten minutes I’m going to receive a text message. It’s going to contain information from a contact that will either confirm or deny our suspicions about your connections to Omar. If you tell me the truth—right here and now—then my deal still stands. If you don’t, however…” Linda trails off, leaving the implication hanging in the air.

  Namazi licks his lips nervously. He had expected to face off against the American woman holding information that she did not have, but the tables have been turned. “I—”

  Linda’s phone buzzes with an incoming call. She glances at the screen and stands up, grabbing her clutch before she walks towards the door. “Excuse me while I answer this, won’t you? You can have an extra moment to think over my offer.”

  Outside in the hall the pair of officers that escorted Namazi to the interrogation room are standing twenty feet away. They are holding a quiet conversation when they notice Linda step out and hold her phone to her ear.

  “Hello?”

  “We have a confirmation.”

  Linda’s eyes narrow. “Why the call instead of a message?”

  “Not safe. Have to go offline. Contact you in three days.”

  The line goes dead before Linda can respond. She turns to look back through the door, her eyes meeting Namazi’s. He shivers as he sees her expression, knowing that his only advantage is gone. She knows who he is and has all the leverage over him that she needs.

  Linda turns and walks down the hall to the two officers and interrupts their conversation. “Excuse me, gentlemen.”

  “Yes, madam?”

  “Pursuant to the orders dictated in the letter I gave your superior earlier, I’ll be taking the prisoner with me to a secure location for immediate deportation to the United States.”

  “Madam, you can’t just do that. You have to go through the courts.”

  Linda reaches into her clutch and pulls out a second letter bearing the forged signature of the German Chancellor. “Take me to your commanding officer. I want to see him immediately to arrange transport of the prisoner.”

  The officer looks at Linda blankly before taking the letter she is holding out. The officer skims the letter, gulps, and nods nervously. The next several minutes consist of another slow elevator ride back upstairs, the passing of the letter to a superior officer and a slow elevator ride back downstairs. As Linda dives deeper into her act of subterfuge she is surprised to find that she is feeling less nervous instead of more so. She tempers her confidence with caution, though, lest she overstep herself and reveal the charade.

  When the elevator doors open Linda’s confidence vanishes as she hears the shouts of a pair of officers from a room down the hall. She and the group of officers with her dash down the hallway and stop near the open door to the interrogation room. The two officers in front of the door are throwing themselves at it as they try to force it open, but it will not budge. Linda cannot hear what is going on inside the room due to the shouts of the officers so she stays out of the way as she nervously glances around, wondering if she should just abandon her mission.

  It takes four minutes for the officers to realize they cannot break the door down by themselves, to shatter the small glass window, and use a pole to release the chair wedged on the inside of the door. When the chair comes loose the door opens and the officers pour into the room. Linda follows close behind, stopping at the entrance. She looks into the room and feels a wave of defeat pass through her.

  The body of Rahim Namazi hangs from the ceiling, his neck at an odd angle and his corpse slowly twisting in circles. A thin piece of wire secreted away days ago on the inside of his belt is looped around his neck and fastened to a thick pipe running above the ceiling tiles. The officers quickly pull him down and begin resuscitation efforts.

  Linda doesn’t bother sticking around to watch them fail. She leaves the building through a fire exit and quickly heads back down the street. The commotion at the station over Namazi’s suicide is enough to cover her tracks. When she arrives at her car she pulls out her phone and taps out a short message. When she’s done she turns off the phone, puts it back in her clutch and closes her eyes.

  With the death of Namazi another lead connected to Omar is gone. Another thread and another clue is irreparably removed and there is nothing she can do to fix it.

  Linda grabs the steering wheel with both hands, squeezing until her fingers tingle and her hands are white before she lets out one short, shrill shout.

  “Dammit!”

  Chapter 11

  “Hey!” The officer shouted at them again and advanced a few steps. “Did you hear what I said? I need to see the admission papers from you two!”

  Linda was about to step forward and reply, but Frank took her by the arm and held her back. “Let me try.” He whispered in her ear and immediately stepped in front of her, giving the police officer a big smile.

  “Hello there, officer! I’m sorry but we’re just out for a walk.” Frank looked back at Linda and gave her a quizzical look. “Did you remember to bring our papers?”

  Linda patted her pockets and jacket and shrugged. “Ugh, I think I forgot.”

  Frank turned back and gave an exaggerated shrug of his own. “I’m sorry, officer. We’d be happy to take you back and get them.”

  The police officer’s eyes narrowed. “Travel anywhere outside of your domicile without your admission paperwork is strictly forbidden. When did you arrive here?”

  Linda was about to reply when Frank cut her off. “Arrive? We’ve lived here for about five years now.” The officer’s gaze shifted between Frank and Linda and his right hand relaxed slightly as he kept it resting on his holster.

  “What’re your names?”

  “I’m Frank, this is Linda.” Frank took a half-step to the right and turned to gesture to Linda. He noticed that her right hand was still behind her back and quickly stepped back in front of her.

  “Where’s your place?”

  Frank turned and pointed back the way he and Linda had come from. “Lawton street, last house on the left.” The officer looked down the road and rubbed his hand across his nose, considering what Frank was saying. Frank could see the man wavering as he tried to decide what to do and decided to press the issue slightly further.

  “We’ve been so cooped up in the house that we just plain forgot about the papers. I’m really sorry, and like I said we’d be happy to take you back there to get them and show you.”

  The police officer looked at Frank and Linda and sighed as he shook his head and took his right hand off of his holster. “No, don’t bother. But you two need to get back right now and make sure you never leave without them. If those military assholes stop you then you’ll be looking at the inside of a cell until they strip search you and stick needles in your arms enough times to be satisfied you’re not carrying a virus.”

  Frank smiled again and stuck out his hand. “Thank you so much, officer. I really appreciate it.”

  The police officer took Frank’s hand and shook it, then touched the brim of his hat as he looked at Linda. “Ma’am. You two have a nice day.”

  The officer took a few steps back before turning around and heading back to his car, glancing around as he did. Frank kept still with a smile on his face until the car had started and was out of sight, then turned to see Linda still had her hand behind her back.

  “Seriously?” Frank hissed at her before turning back to the tree to grab his backpack. “You were going to shoot him?”

  Linda lowered her arm and shrugged. “It seemed better than letting him take us in.”

  “Yes. Great idea. Shoot your gun off in the middle of a military-controlled city. And kill a cop. What could possibly go wrong?”

  Linda was quiet for several seconds before she, too, reached for her backpack to put it on. “You did well there. I’m impressed.”

  “Mom alw
ays said I was a people person.” Frank snorted as he adjusted the straps on his bag. “Can we just get out of here now? Maybe stay away from the roads since we don’t have whatever the hell ‘admission papers’ are?”

  “Yep.” Linda pointed off across the field. “We’ll head that way. The terrain looks rougher but the annex is straight that way. We can stick to the woods and backyards as long as possible.”

  Frank didn’t say anything else until they were safely in the woods, and even then he kept his voice low for fear of drawing unwanted attention. “What’s with the admission papers thing anyway? Have we devolved to Nazi Germany levels already? That’s terrifying.”

  “It sure sounds like it, doesn’t it?” Linda shook her head. “It’s probably how they’re keeping track of people who’ve been cleared by the patrols for any biological contaminations and just to make sure they’re supposed to be here. My guess is that it was set up by the feds and they’re tasking all local law enforcement with performing random checks.” She gave Frank an odd look. “How’d you come up with that street name, anyway?”

  “I noticed it while we were walking by and it stuck in my head for some reason.”

  “Yeah, but that was quite a risk, telling him we lived on a nearby street. What if he had taken us there in the back of his car?”

  Frank chuckled. “That would have been the point to start shooting.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind if we get stopped again.” Linda smiled at Frank’s joke before her face fell again. “You’re right about one thing, though.”

  “What’s that?”

  “This is terrifying.”

  ***

  High wooden fences separated the backyards of the stately homes from the overgrown woods behind them. Located less than a mile from the CIA headquarters Frank had expected the entire area to be well-manicured and show signs of… something. As he thought about it he realized he didn’t know what he had expected. An affluent, relatively normal-looking neighborhood right next to the spy center of the United States was definitively not it, though.

  There were signs of activity in nearly all of the homes they passed but the soldiers had not yet gotten to the point of setting up shelters that close to the CIA’s headquarters. Eventually, though, a reinforced fence would go up around the building and shelters would be built up to that point. Every square inch of free space in the cordoned-off area was to be used for shelter except the most vital portions that ensured some form of governance continued.

  Truth be told, though, the governance that still existed was merely a shell of what it had been only weeks prior. The façade of ordered chaos within the survivor cities was necessary to keep the civilian population from panicking any more than they already were. Federal and state resources were stretched past their breaking point and any further disruptions would ensure that there would be no recovery from the attacks.

  Every possible stop was being pulled out to keep life inside the cities as normal as possible but those in charge knew it would only last so long. Direction from those higher up was nonexistent as all three branches of government were still reeling from the attacks. Trying to govern was impossible under the circumstances. Those who were watching the chaos unfold from the shadows knew this and were biding their time as they eagerly waited for the opportunity to unleash their final blow.

  While Frank remained relatively unaware of much of what was going on behind the scenes Linda’s mind was racing with a mixture of fact and fiction. Her years of service and pursuit of Omar had endowed her with a unique grasp of what the government and Omar were both capable of. She had initially expected the government’s response to the attacks to be far better than it was, though, and as each day passed she realized more and more that Omar’s plans had been an unmitigated success. This caused the same question to go through her mind over and over.

  What’s he going to do next?

  Chapter 12

  “You are ready?” The question posed seems simple. The taking of life is rarely simple, though, even to those who have been trained for years to take it without question. The taking of dozens or hundreds of lives is even less simple. To some it looks easy. Walk in, press a button, die a hero to a few and a villain to most. The truth is far more complex.

  “Yes.” The answer is given without hesitation. Hesitation is weakness and weakness is culled without hesitation. “I am ready.”

  The asker of the question nods and pats the answerer on the shoulders before moving on to ask the same question of yet another. The man asking the questions is tall and slender with a long white beard and hair completely covered by a simple white keffiyeh. His tan robes brush against the floor as he walks. Splitting sandals filled with darkly tanned and calloused toes peek out from beneath the robes as he moves from person to person, each of them dressed far differently than he.

  Each of the thirty men being asked the same question is from the same region as the man with the robes but all hide their origins in different ways. Some shave their heads while others dye their hair and skin. Some are fairer-skinned than others thanks to their genetics and blend in naturally wearing blue jeans, a polo shirt and a windbreaker.

  Each of the thirty men—and dozens more like them in key areas across the country—have trained for the question for the last ten years. Each man arrived in the country at a different point in time and then slowly the men began to link up into groups of three and four. These cells were kept small and discreet on purpose to avoid detection by authorities. Of the nearly three hundred men in the country only six ever became involved in activities that attracted enough attention for them to be caught. The cellular structure of the men ensured that even when they were caught there was no possibility of them divulging the ten-year plan.

  Every six months the cells received a visit from their handlers. Some visits would be accompanied by new information and training regimens. Some visits were merely check-ups to ensure that the men were getting along and following the orders. For most of the ten years any orders that were issued to the cells consisted of seemingly mundane activities.

  Go to this location. Work this job. Begin this exercise routine. Move to this state.

  Issued from the top of the food chain and disseminated through a network of lieutenants, the orders remained mundane for years. Their chief purpose was to ensure loyalty and train obedience. The orders that were not mundane came in the final few months.

  The thirty men standing in a circle, each in normal clothing, look at each other. There is fear in every man’s eyes but that fear is overpowered by their sense of loyalty and duty and commitment to their orders.

  After the question is asked to each of the thirty, the man in the robes issues his final order, “Gather your tools and use them with righteous fury!”

  The thirty men obey the command without hesitation. Some pick up guns. Others carry small explosive charges in backpacks and satchels. Others carry knives. Two take no weapons but climb into large trucks, instead, each with reinforced bumpers and doors that cannot be opened with anything less than a wrecking ball.

  ***

  In the city of Pittsburgh the death toll is unfathomable. Bodies litter the streets and buildings and the survivors dare not leave their homes for fear of contracting the horrific disease that has laid waste to the city. The disease is incredibly lethal and fast-acting and cannot survive outside the human body for long, though. It burns through the population at speeds greater than any plague ever seen and then dies out just as quickly.

  Thunderstorms sweeping across the region do little to help with sanitation as the corpses in the street begin to swell and burst. Flooding is prolific and quickly overwhelms the city’s sewer systems, causing the water levels in the streets to rapidly rise. Bodies, trash and raw sewage are carried throughout the city streets and into the rivers that are overflowing their banks.

  Outside in the perimeter set up by the Army and Marines, the situation is more fluid than that of the rising flood waters. Patrol routes are cons
tantly changing due to the water levels and there are gaps in the perimeter through which people and the remnants of the disease can escape. Drones—both land and air-based—are knocked out of commission by the water, leading to a forced delay in the search for survivors.

  The delay and disruption caused by the rains is a boon to the thirty men. They had originally planned on having to smash through the perimeter to bring down even more horror upon the city but they are able to slip in unnoticed in between patrols. They no longer fear the disease that ravaged the city both because it has burned out and because even if they somehow become infected they won’t live long enough for the disease to do them much harm.

  Chapter 13

  “Dammit!” Frank jerked his arm around towards his chest, hearing a tearing in the fabric of his jacket. Linda stopped ahead of him and turned around to see what was going on and raised an eyebrow.

  “You okay there?”

  Frank picked at the tear in his jacket before sighing and taking off his backpack. “Yeah, just give me a second to put a piece of tape over this. Stupid fence.”

  The fence Frank was referring to was a tall length of chain link that wrapped around the perimeter of the annex building, the building’s parking lot and the small grassy areas and pond that sat next to it. The fence sat a couple hundred feet from the building at its closest point which was near the edge of the parking lot. A nearby dumpster provided the perfect aid for Linda to scale the fence first and land gingerly on a car parked just a few feet away. Once she was safely across Frank went next, but in his rush to make sure his backpack didn’t get caught on the top of the fence he inadvertently got his jacket snagged instead.

  Linda walked slowly back to Frank, taking it easy on her leg as the pain had started to return. “Are you hurt?”