Black List

by Will Jordan

  Leaping down the final step, he found himself confronted by the only door leading into the server room. Huge and indomitable, constructed of solid steel, with only a single reinforced-glass viewing port permitting a glimpse of the room beyond.

  Alex crossed the last few yards and peered through the small window. The room beyond was still shrouded in gas from the Halon system, but even through the crimson-coloured haze he was able to make out Anya locked in desperate combat against Hawkins.

  She was fighting, and she was losing. Alex watched in horror as Hawkins butted her full in the face, picked her up bodily and hurled her like a rag doll across the room.

  Gripping the door handle, he turned and pulled it. Nothing happened. The door remained firmly closed. It was sealed and locked, the electronic access panel at the side glowing red to indicate the security locks had been engaged.

  ‘Shit!’ he hissed, watching as Hawkins closed in on Anya to finish her.

  Fumbling for the radio at his belt, he yanked it free and hit the transmit button. ‘Olivia, I’m in the basement. Open the server-room door.’

  There was no response.

  ‘Olivia, if you can hear me, open the door now!’

  *

  In the security room above, Mitchell found her mind hovering in a curious space between reality and fantasy, between wakefulness and gathering darkness. Vaguely she was aware of the blood still seeping from the wound at her side; the wound that had been made so much worse by her frantic sprint up to the roof, by her refusal to give in to the pain and the growing exhaustion.

  She had resisted for a long time, but now knew she was approaching the end of her strength. She was losing too much blood, her thoughts growing confused and muddled, her eyes heavy. If only she could close them and rest, just for a few minutes…

  And then, just like that, a voice reached her. Faint and crackling, and yet somehow cutting through the fog that was enveloping her brain.

  ‘Olivia, please tell me you’re still there!’

  Frowning, she looked around, wondering at the source of the voice. Only when she spotted the radio unit lying on the ground by her left hand did it begin to make sense.

  ‘Olivia, listen to me. If you don’t open this door now, Anya’s going to die. It’s all on you; I need you now! Please.’

  And just like that, the confused and jumbled thoughts coalesced into a single purpose. She had to get up and open the door. She had to get up.

  Get up.

  Gritting her teeth, she reached up for the edge of the desk, managed to get a good grip on it, and pulled. She pulled until her muscles trembled, until her vision blurred and she threatened to black out. She pulled until she felt herself rise up from the floor, until she was on her knees staring at the console laid out in front of her.

  Though she had no experience of this system, she’d worked in secure facilities most of her adult life and understood how such things were controlled. By her reckoning, the security control system consisted of nothing more than a series of switches governing the electronic locks on all major doors, grouped by floor number.

  And there, at the far end of the panel, was a single switch marked B1.

  *

  Forcing her mind back from the brink of unconsciousness, Anya found herself lying against the side of an equipment rack. Something was seeping into her left eye, blurring her vision, and with a vague sense of disorientation she remembered Hawkins’s skull making contact with her own, remembered the blinding flash of the impact that had nearly knocked her out cold.

  He was still with her, standing just a few yards away, watching her feeble efforts to get up with what she presumed was amusement. He was toying with her, drawing out the inevitable, but this reprieve wouldn’t last long. The moment she showed signs of recovery, she knew he’d close in to finish her.

  Her eyes turned away from him, looking for anything she could use to defend herself from the inevitable attack. The assault rifle he’d discarded during their earlier confrontation was still lying where he’d dropped it, though to get to it she’d have to go through him first. No good.

  The computer drives fixed into the racks around her might serve as primitive shields, but they were held in place with bolts and tangled bundles of cables that she had neither the time to disconnect nor the strength to break. Keep looking.

  Only then did she see it. Lying just beyond her reach in the narrow space between two metal frames, its polished steel glinting in the crimson light overhead, was her one chance to defend herself.

  She had to get up. She had to reach it.

  An instinct, deeply etched into her mind and reinforced by decades of hard-won experience, screamed at her to get up, to fight back before Hawkins could finish her.

  With a supreme effort of will, Anya rolled over and began to drag herself to her feet, breathing hard, trying to get more air into her lungs. Chilled, dry air clawed at her throat while blood dripped from the gash over her eye, staining the concrete floor beneath as she slowly extended her arms.

  But Hawkins wasn’t about to let her rise up again. With deliberate care he took a step forward and kicked her in the ribs. Anya shuddered under the blow that seemed to radiate through her very bones, but managed to hold herself defiantly up.

  There would be no withstanding the next blow however. His second kick struck almost exactly where she’d been hit by a stray round, and was delivered with all the force that his considerable frame could command. Even Anya couldn’t hold in her cry of agony, and collapsed onto her side.

  But the pain of his blows had been worth it. Even as Hawkins reached down and closed his fingers around her neck, she grasped the broken blade of the knife she’d deliberately snapped to protect herself. Straight away the wickedly sharp edge cut into her hands, but the pain was almost irrelevant now. Pain no longer mattered; she was fighting for her very life.

  Somewhere behind her she heard the hiss of hydraulic pistons working, but paid it no heed as Hawkins leaned in close, his grip tightening mercilessly. Already she could feel her windpipe constricting as he crushed the life out of her.

  He was staring right into her eyes. He wanted to be the last thing she saw as her vision faded and her life finally ended.

  With a defiant cry, Anya swept the broken blade upwards, aiming for the face that was now so terrifyingly close to hers.

  There was a spurt of red, a spray of warmth that coated her face, and suddenly Hawkins let out an almost bestial howl of pain. Releasing his grip on her, he stumbled backward clutching at his face.

  Taking advantage of the momentary distraction, Anya scrambled to her feet, still brandishing the improvised weapon in bloody fingers. She was hurting and tired after their brutal confrontation, yet through some great effort of will and sheer resilience she was standing.

  Hawkins meanwhile had overcome the shock of her sudden attack and rounded on her once more, his face twisted in rage and hatred. A deep gash traced a gory path from cheek to forehead, bleeding profusely and narrowly missing his right eye. Such a wound would leave a prominent scar, but it was unlikely to cause any lasting damage. It certainly wouldn’t be enough to stop him now.

  Nothing would stop him.

  Hawkins took a step towards her, his fists clenched, the muscles of his formidable body marshalled behind a single purpose. There would be no toying with her now, no hesitation or mercy. He was out to destroy her.

  Anya raised her hands and gripped the knife blade tighter, readying herself for what could well be the last fight of her life. She had spent her life fighting in one way or another, never submitting, never hesitating, never retreating. That was how she had lived, and if the time had come, that was how she would die.

  Hawkins closed in on her, his lips pulled back in a snarl, one side of his face a bloody ruin. His eyes glimmered in the crimson light overhead. The feral, wild eyes of a predator. A killer.

  But before Anya could react, a crack like thunder echoed around the room, and suddenly Hawkins was knocked backwa
rd a pace as if by an invisible blow. He hesitated, his expression uncertain, as if failing to understand what had happened, only for a second shot to slam into him.

  A third shot finally knocked him right off his feet, and he toppled backwards, crashing to the ground with an audible thump. Two more shots followed even as he fell, though his collapse caused the rounds to sail right over his head.

  Hardly believing what had just happened, Anya whirled around to face the mysterious shooter. Alex was standing in the doorway, clutching a revolver in his hands, wisps of smoke still trailing from the barrel.

  ‘Alex?’ she gasped, for once unable to contain her surprise.

  Before she could say anything more, however, Alex shouted out a warning. ‘Anya, run!’ he cried, beckoning her towards him.

  Glancing over her shoulder, Anya saw Hawkins scrambling to get up. The soft lead slugs that Alex had fired at him might have been enough to knock him off his feet, but his body armour had protected him from any real injury. Already he was reaching for the assault rifle he had dropped earlier, no doubt intending to hose down both of his targets with a single deadly burst of automatic fire.

  Abandoning any thoughts of finishing him, or of questioning how Alex had made it back down here, Anya turned and sprinted for the door, summoning up whatever reserves of energy she still possessed in one final burst of speed.

  ‘Move your fucking arse!’ she heard Alex scream, backing away from the door to let her pass. Dropping the empty revolver, he raised a portable radio to his mouth. ‘Seal the door, now!’

  She heard the distinctive hiss as hydraulic pistons went to work, causing the door to swing inward. Covering the last few yards with the kind of speed that only comes when one’s life is at stake, Anya twisted her body sideways to squeeze through the rapidly closing gap. A second later, the door slammed shut, the electronic locks automatically engaging.

  No sooner had the locks clicked into place than the door resounded with heavy impacts from the other side. Both Anya and Alex watched as a deformation suddenly appeared in the centre of the steel frame, followed by another, and another. Hawkins was firing on it, trying to force it open, though his efforts were wasted. Nothing short of explosives would break through that door.

  Staring through the observation port, Anya watched as he hurled the weapon aside and strode right up to the door, glaring at her in silent, brooding hatred. They remained like that for the next few seconds, their eyes locked with one another in a silent battle of wills.

  ‘Come on,’ Alex said, pulling at her arm. ‘He’s not going anywhere.’

  Even as Anya allowed him to lead her towards the stairs, Hawkins silently mouthed a single sentence just for her.

  I’ll find you again.

  It had been a long time since Anya had felt afraid of another human being, but she felt it at that moment, like a snake twisting around in her guts. Somehow, even though he was trapped in an underground prison with police closing in, she believed what he said.

  The thought lingered with her even as she followed Alex up the stairs.

  *

  They were out. Despite the pain and the darkness that seemed to be closing in around her, Mitchell allowed herself a weary smile of triumph. Somehow both Alex and Anya had made it out of that room, while Hawkins, the piece of shit, was trapped. She had watched him empty an entire clip into the door, venting his fury and impotent rage the only way he knew how. But he wasn’t going anywhere as long as she remained in control of the door locks.

  Not that that was likely to be for long, she thought, as she surveyed the monitors before her. One of the cameras mounted at the front of the building showed the glare of flashing blue lights. Fire trucks and Turkish police cruisers had pulled up moments ago, and already uniformed officers were trying to force their way in through the front door.

  It wouldn’t take them long to get in here. But perhaps long enough.

  Suddenly Alex’s crackly voice filled the room. ‘Olivia, can you hear me?’

  With a trembling hand she reached for the radio beside her. ‘I’m here.’

  ‘Bloody good timing, mate! We’re on our way up to get you now. I’ll buy you a pint of whatever crappy beer Americans drink when this is over.’

  She smiled, though it was the bittersweet smile of a promise that would never be fulfilled. ‘Maybe … some other time.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘The police are here, out front.’ She turned her gaze to the cameras at the rear. ‘The loading dock still looks clear. You should make it out if you hurry.’

  ‘Fuck that!’ Alex retorted. She could see him on one of the monitors, could see the anger in his face. ‘We can’t just leave you here.’

  ‘Yeah, you can. I wouldn’t make it more than a block in this shape.’

  ‘So I’ll carry you.’

  ‘Don’t argue with me!’ she snapped, knowing she had to make him understand. ‘This is… what has to happen. Go, while you still can.’

  Pausing for a moment, Alex looked up at the nearest camera, knowing she could still see him. Even in the grainy image, she could sense how conflicted he was. It gave her some measure of satisfaction to know she’d been right about him, that he was a good man in his own way.

  ‘You’re sure this is what you want?’ he asked.

  ‘It is.’ Swallowing, Mitchell raised her chin. ‘Go, Alex. Don’t let this… be for nothing.’

  She watched his shoulders sag a little as he let out a sigh, then turned away and headed for the loading bay with Anya close behind. He didn’t say anything else, and she didn’t expect him to.

  Mitchell watched them manually crank open the bay doors and slip outside, and for the first time in a long time felt at peace with herself. Whatever mistakes and shortcomings she might have had in life, she could at least feel proud of what she’d done here.

  Those were her last thoughts as the radio slipped from her grasp and she allowed the darkness she’d been holding back to finally envelop her.

  *

  Emerging tired and hurting into the parking lot at the rear of the building, Alex glanced around. He could hear sirens on the main road, and see the distinctive blue flash of lights. The fire alarm would have triggered an automated call to the emergency services, though it was unlikely they understood yet the full scale of what had happened here tonight. If they had, the place would have been swarming with SWAT teams and police choppers.

  Reaching up, Anya pressed the transmit button on her radio. ‘Kristian, please tell me you copy.’

  Silence, broken only by the crackle of radio static. Alex’s heart sank.

  ‘I copy. Good to hear from you at last!’ Halvorsen’s scratchy, grainy voice replied. Even over the radio net, his relief was obvious. ‘The police are everywhere. Had to circle around to the main drag north of you. Can you make it?’

  ‘We’ll make it,’ she replied. ‘Stand by.’

  Releasing her grip on the radio, she turned to Alex and pointed across the parking lot to a narrow alleyway running between two larger buildings to the rear. Alex had no idea where it led, but it seemed to be going directly away from the ISS building, and that was good enough for him.

  ‘This way. Follow me,’ she gasped, leading the way.

  Picking their way around rusted, overflowing dumpsters, they ran with whatever speed and strength they could still summon up. Both were very much aware that they were unarmed and totally vulnerable if they happened to encounter police units, or worse, more of Hawkins’s men.

  Alex couldn’t say how long it took to negotiate that maze of back alleys and side streets as they fought to reach the main road, every passing moment increasing their chances of being intercepted. His heart was thundering in his chest, his legs burning, fear and adrenaline driving his weary and battered body onwards.

  Stumbling out of the alley and onto the main road beyond, Alex blinked and tried to get his bearings, the harsh glow of street lights and passing traffic almost blinding in its intensity.


  ‘Where the hell is he?’ he asked, glancing around. Every pair of headlights streaming past looked the same to him. Surely every passing driver would be staring back at the battered, dishevelled-looking foreigners who had just lurched out of an alleyway.

  ‘We’re on the main road,’ Anya spoke into her radio. ‘Where are—?’

  She was cut off by the screech of brakes as another pair of headlights shuddered to a halt just yards away. Halvorsen? Police? CIA?

  Alex tensed up, his weary heart pounding with renewed urgency, ready to make a run for it. Even exhausted as he was, there was no way he was surrendering now.

  ‘Wait,’ Anya said, sensing his thoughts.

  Alex frowned, wondering what she was thinking. Only when a door opened and a silhouetted figure stepped out of the van did he understand.

  ‘What took you both so long?’ Halvorsen asked. ‘Hurry up and get in!’

  Part Five – Reflection

  In 2011, elite hacker sl1nk released an extensive account of his penetration of the US Department of Defense, Pentagon, NASA, NSA, US Military and UK government websites. His account is widely believed to be authentic.

  Chapter 48

  The sun was just creeping over the horizon, its golden rays spilling across the glistening waters of the Black Sea, when Halvorsen finally brought the van to a halt in a deserted parking lot just yards from the beach. At such an early hour, theirs was the only vehicle on the road.

  They had been driving for the past few hours, putting a decent distance between themselves and the scene of their crime.

  Neither Alex nor Anya had said much. Indeed, they had passed most of the journey in thoughtful and companionable silence, each contemplating everything that had happened.