Anna looked back to check the two children had not followed her. It was almost a fatal error. Another man had used the moment to aim his weapon. He fired. Anna felt the bullet hit her arm. Fortunately it was her left side and she calmly raised her pistol and fired. Her latest assailant fell, his weapon clattering to the floor. She cautiously entered the kitchen. Bodies were everywhere. A man stood in the corner, his face filled with fear. He was not armed. Anna did not care. She raised the pistol and fired. He too slumped, dead. There was no one else alive that she could see. Her arm was starting to throb; she could feel the blood streaming down to her hand and then dripping onto the floor. She backed out of the kitchen and headed back to the dining room entrance, back to the two children.
~~~
Mark struggled to manage the waves of pain and nausea that threatened to cripple him. For a moment he felt better and forced himself to stand. He ignored Gilmore’s concern and rested against a stack of heavy cartons, catching his breath. A mental tickle caught his attention. It was faint, and was fading in and out of his awareness. It reminded him of the little Cerberus child, Gabrielle.
“Mark,” the whisper came. He was correct, it was indeed that tiny child.
He silently replied. “Yes, Gabrielle?”
“Oh, Mark. Thank goodness. Everyone’s dead, they’ve all been killed. Except me, Niland and Anna. They shot Anna in the arm. She’s bleeding. I’ve bandaged the wound but she’s in shock. Can you come and help us? Please?”
“Yes. You may still be in danger, so find somewhere to hide. I’ll be there as soon as I can. I promise. Now go, hide.”
Mark was left with the impression of a relieved little girl. He had no idea yet, how he was going to return to Camp Brewer in time to help, to protect the remaining children.
***
Chapter 32
Mark turned to Gilmore. “Can I borrow your cell phone? I need to make an urgent call.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Gilmore handed over his phone. “You look white as a ghost.”
Mark nodded as he entered Julian’s number. “I’m okay.” He listened to the ringing tone. “Julian? This is Mark. I have an emergency. I need to get back to Camp Brewer as quickly as possible. Do you have an aircraft, anything that will get me there?” He listened. “I think someone has killed some of the children. I got an urgent message. A helicopter? Oh yes, that should work. When can it leave? Good. Thank you very much. I’ll call you once I know what’s happened.” He disconnected the call and handed the cell phone back to Gilmore, who was staring at him in shock.
“What’s going on?”
“The children—the Cerberus children. Someone has attacked them.’
“How the hell do you know that?”
“Don’t ask. Julian’s driver will be here in five minutes. Julian’s lending me his helicopter and pilot. That will get me to D.C. quicker than anything else. Can I have your phone back? I need to make some other calls.”
Mark first tried to contact Schmidt and was surprised there was no answer, so he left a message that something disastrous had occurred at the Army base. He tried MayAnn’s number and again, there was no answer. He did not leave a message. He was perplexed. It was most unusual that both would be out of contact. He returned the cell phone to the ex-FBI agent.
“I’m still bewildered,” said Gilmore. “You and the Cerberus children can communicate? I suspect that was not intended by the Genetics Center?”
Mark looked at Gilmore. “I think you should come with me, just in case these attackers return or are reinforced. There were two hundred Cerberus soldiers and children at the Army base, and there are only three survivors. Gabrielle did not give me very much information. Are you in?”
“I’m in. I’ll help you close up here and then I’ll come with you.”
~~~
The pilot had found the Army base and hovered the Bell helicopter for a moment just above the square in front of the barrack buildings. He then settled the aircraft down. Scott and Mark clambered out and moved quickly away from the spinning rotors. Mark waved his thanks to the pilot and the helicopter lifted off; the pilot planned on flying to a small airport on the northern side of Baltimore where he could sleep and refuel before he returned to Boston.
“You have some influential friends. That was a fast flight and I suspect the pilot may have broken a noise curfew when he landed here.”
“They’ll blame the Army,” replied Mark. “Now be cautious. I want to find the children. You may need your weapon.” He led the way to Building A. He wanted to see Anna and the two younger children first, before he explored the other buildings. He tried to reach out to Gabrielle. After a minute or so he felt a tiny voice.
“Mark, we’re in A, on the second floor, in the first room.”
He hurried through the entrance and up the stairs. He opened the door to the first bedroom and turned on the light. Anna was laying on a bed with the two children cuddled on either side. She looked very pale. Gabrielle sat up, rubbing sleep out of her eyes. Anna stirred and opened her eyes. Niland slept on.
“Mark, you came,” said the little girl. Anna smiled and tried to sit up. She flinched in pain.
“Mark,” Anna whispered. “It’s horrifying. They’re all dead, everyone. They must have been poisoned. They’re in the main dining room, B building. I shot some strangers, when they tried to shoot me. They were in the kitchen.”
“How are you? How’s your arm?” Mark asked as he helped Anna sit up.
“These two did an excellent job of first aid,” said Anna. “I think I lost some blood, though. I feel awfully weak.”
“This is Scott.” He remembered to introduce his companion.
“Scott Gilmore,” said Gabrielle. “FBI. Cerberus.”
“Yes,” confirmed Scott.
“He’s helping me,” said Mark. “Anna, will you be okay while we check out the dining room in B?”
“Yes, yes. Do that. I’ll get ready to leave. We can’t stay here.”
“I agree. But don’t stress yourself. I’ll help when I come back.” He turned to Scott. “Come and see what this is about,” he directed. Scott nodded and followed him.
Both Mark and Scott faltered as they entered the dining room. Bodies lay everywhere. Mark hurried through to the kitchen; there were six more bodies lying on the floor, all dead. They were strangers, as far as he could determine, and appeared to be Chinese; at least, they were Asian.
“Hell,” said Scott. “This has been a mass killing. I’ve never seen or heard of killings on this scale in the US. They must be terrorists?”
“I think they’ve tried to eliminate a major part of the new Cerberus DNA-engineered children,” said Mark. “Let’s get out of here. I’ve seen enough.”
He led the way back out of the building and returned to the room where Anna and the two younger children were waiting. On the way he said to Scott, “We’re leaving. I’m going to move Anna and the two young children. We’re too exposed here, if these people send reinforcements. I’m not sure we’ll be safe ever again, if they can walk in and kill everyone, just like that. Once we’re on our way, can you contact the FBI here? Schmidt hasn’t responded to my call. You can phone the main offices, or perhaps there are people you know? Oliver, for example?”
“Sure. I’ll give Oliver a call. I know, not until you’re on your way. I wouldn’t like to be hunted by whoever arranged this massacre.”
Anna, Gabrielle and the now awake Niland were waiting for Mark at the foot of the stairs. Anna was holding a pistol, alert in spite of the pain from her wound. The three each carried a small pack. Gabrielle was clutching a teddy bear.
Mark said to Anna, “Wait here while I check what vehicles are in the parking lot. I don’t want to take a Humvee; there must be some other cars, not as obvious as one of those. Scott, will you stay here and keep guard, just in case?”
“Sure,” affirmed Gilmore. “Willingly. Now Anna, sit down over there, you’ll be more comfortable. Mark will be back as
quickly as possible. Come on, children.” He led the three to a row of visitors’ chairs that lined one wall of the lobby.
Mark returned after about five minutes. “I found a suitable vehicle. If I can find the keys, we’ll borrow it. Anna, I need to go to the main office and see if the keys are held there.” He headed away, almost at a run. Another five minutes passed and then Mark drove up to the front of the building in a black SUV.
“All right,” he said as he entered the lobby. “Come on, let’s move. Scott, will you take the backpacks, and I’ll help Anna.”
Niland had disappeared and returned shortly with an armful of pistols and magazines; he had raided Martin’s room.
“That’s a good idea,” said Scott as he took his burden. Mark looked around. This time it was Gabrielle who had disappeared. She returned after a couple of minutes, tugging along a portable nitrogen-based freezer unit.
“What’s that?” asked Mark.
The unexpected answer was in the form of a mental whisper. ‘Embryos. I think there is five hundred. The other children rescued them when they were brought here. The battery will last for ten hours.”
Mark did not comment. He hefted the unit up into the back of the SUV and pushed it into a secure position. He would decide later what they could do with the contents. He closed the rear door of the vehicle. Everyone was seated and Scott was waiting beside the driver’s door.
“Don’t tell those two they need car seats,” commented Scott. “I don’t think they’d take too kindly to the suggestion they are merely children.”
“I think you’re right,” replied Mark. “I certainly won’t mention it.”
“Oh, I raided the first aid supplies; you now have a supply of bandages and so forth, on the back seat.”
“Good. We need to leave, I think. Give us about thirty minutes before you make your call.”
“I’ll do that. Which way are you headed?”
“I’m familiar with parts of the Carolinas. I think we can find somewhere safe there.”
“Good. Travel safely.”
Mark waved a brief farewell as he drove away from the barracks. Once he reached the 495, he headed south. After about ten miles, he exited and re-entered the 495, heading north. They drove in silence. The children had fallen asleep and Anna was struggling against the pain of her wound.
After a while Anna said, “I thought you said you were heading south?”
“Well, I did. For a while. I don’t want anyone tracking us. That’s why I went south first—we could’ve been followed. There was no one. I borrowed license plates from another SUV and I’ll swap them later. Then, as soon as I can, I’ll arrange another vehicle, just in case there’s an alert on this one. Just pray we don’t get stopped along the way.”
“Where are we going?”
“I purchased a house in New Hampshire after I sold my parents’ property. No one knows I own it. We’re headed there, where we’ll be safe.”
Anna nodded; she and the two young children needed somewhere away from possible harm. They drove on into the night, north, along the 295, heading towards their promised sanctuary.
oooOOOooo
Mark Three
Chapter 1
Reb climbed the superstructure of Hammer using ridges and other protuberances as handholds until she reached the small recess she had claimed as her place of solitude. Here she was able to sit and watch the stars or the flow of marine phosphorescence. If it was daytime, she watched birds diving into the yacht’s wake or enjoyed the rush of clouds across the sky, all away from prying eyes. Tonight, she planned to watch the ever-varying bioluminescence of different unseen ocean organisms. The faint flows of colors were entrancing, relaxing, almost hypnotic as they glowed in the wake of the yacht. The night was moonless and clouds were starting to gather in the south, blocking some of the stars. Hammer’s internal and navigation lights provided soft illumination, but not enough to expose Reb in her lofty location. She was off duty for eight hours and apart from emergencies would not be needed until the morning.
Reb regarded herself as Welsh—she had spent her early years in Pwllheli, a coastal market town in north-west Wales, where she developed her love of the sea—and had been working on board motor yachts for nearly six years. Her role as Hammer’s navigator meant she provided the course and waypoints the helmsman followed. Her fellow crewmembers were unsure whether her name was short for Rebecca or Rebel, and some other variations were occasionally suggested, but only when she was not present. She carried two knives on her belt and had demonstrated she was prepared to use them. She kept to herself and no one—well, almost no one—bothered her.
The yacht had GPS, radar, and other electronic devices to manage and monitor its course. Hammer was a luxury vessel, a customized Princess 40M, and Reb enjoyed the opportunities her job provided for travel, for visiting different ports, some exotic, some boring, and some in between. Even the exotic became boring after too many visits.
While the new owners—they were the same as the old owners, just a different company, as far as she was aware—had changed the yacht’s name, she still thought of her as Hammer. The current name, Rascal, just seemed inappropriate, but her opinion would not result in any change so she did not voice it, not even to the current crewmembers or the skipper. The previous crew, at least some of them, either had been dismissed or died, fatally beaten in drunken brawls. Another, an Australian, Pete, had been shot and killed, just days after he’d left Hammer. If she were superstitious, she would say there was a jinx on the crew.
She plotted courses from port to port, based on destinations announced at the whim of the client, the man everyone called the Chairman. Apart from her, none of the crew knew his name. She massaged the bruises on her arms, evidence of his brutality. The yacht was headed to Tangier; it had departed ten days earlier from Montenegro and the Chairman had in mind a safe haven destination. Reb’s instructions had been clear: avoid jurisdictions with extradition treaties with the USA. The Chairman had given her a list of countries he would allow the yacht to visit. Both Morocco and Montenegro fell into his acceptable category. Reb did not know or care about the reasons for her instructions; her concerns included the safety and on-time arrival of the vessel. The weather was co-operating and Hammer would reach her destination in less than ten hours.
Reb relaxed into her shelter, huddling into her fleece jacket. The breeze, a southerly, had strengthened and the temperature was dropping, as forecast. She felt sad. She had reached a decision to resign and depart the yacht once they arrived at their next port. It was time to take her leave and explore new possibilities. She’d enjoyed some of her three years on board Hammer, at least the parts involving seamanship. Her initial training, her Yachtmaster Ocean certification, and over six years of accumulated experiences all meant she could apply for future navigator positions with confidence. Over the years she had prudently requested references from each of her skippers, to document her travels and responsibilities. Copies of those papers were on file with the employment agency that had found her current position. The agency people had confirmed they were eager to find her a new assignment. Reb expected the current skipper to give her a reference, too. However, she had no details of Hammer’s owners, so she wouldn’t have an owner’s reference. Cerberus affairs were matters she would continue to ignore.
The motion of the yacht, smoothed by the stabilizers, had soothed and lulled her almost to sleep. Now, Hammer’s sudden change of course, punctuated by the roar of its diesels as the helmsman engaged full reverse, came close to dislodging Reb from her hideaway. The change of direction was accompanied by a cacophony that caused her to sit up in alarm. There were gunshots, sounds of breaking glass, a burst of outboard motors, and the heavier thump-thump of commercial marine engines. A frisson of fear brought a shiver. This region, south-west of Gibraltar between Spain and Morocco, was supposed to be free of modern-day pirates.
While her location hid her from casual eyes, if she tried to edge forward to see more than h
er current view of the stern, she would be exposed and vulnerable. Forewarned by another burst of outboard engine noise, this time closer, Reb kept herself hidden as she watched a RIB, a rigid inflatable boat, bump up against the stern of the yacht. There was enough light for her to see it had a string of Chinese characters along the side, probably the name of a commercial vessel.
One of its crew tethered the boat to the port bollard on the aft deck, a flat area where the crew launched and recovered sailboats, water toys, and the yacht’s own RIB. Two men from the strange RIB jumped onto the deck. Then, one to each set of stairs on either side of the yacht, they headed up to the main deck, leaving a third man with the RIB to protect their possible retreat. They all were carrying weapons. One of the intruders passed under a light and Reb saw he had an Asian appearance. They were shouting and replies were coming from other men who had boarded Hammer from her bows. Reb thought she recognized words, they were speaking Mandarin.
Reb heard more shouts, screams, and shots. The pirates—that was how she now classified these people—were attacking and killing crewmembers. The Chairman was the only guest on board for this trip and she suspected the assault was targeting him. She smiled and for a moment wondered if they would welcome her assistance.
Mark Midway Box Set: Mark One, Mark Two, Mark Three, and Mark Four Page 44
