FREEFALL (A Megalith Thriller Book 1)

by D R Sanford

  “I’ll come with you, but you have to promise not to hurt my child or let Maeve have him.”

  “Look at you, bargaining for something you don’t have control of. Lucky for you I have no intention of allowing Maeve to raise your child.”

  She turned to the bedroom door. Cracked it open an inch.

  “Are you ready to go, Nora?”

  “Do I have a choice?”

  “Only one good one,” Morrigan replied in her singsong voice.

  “I’m coming.”

  “Excellent choice.”

  Morrigan shifted back to Maeve’s likeness and swung the door wide, ushering Nora into the suite beyond.

  A muffled explosion, like distant fireworks, sounded from the opposite end of the building. Nora’s head turned in the direction it came from, a mixture of fear and anticipation on her face.

  —Chapter 21—

  SEARCH

  Hardly his cup of tea. Monkeying around with guns and hiding behind corners didn’t match Larkin’s definition of a fight.

  He preferred the smell of his opponent’s breath, the fear in his sweat, the recognition of doom in his eyes. Squeezing off rounds in the general direction of their attacker gave him no satisfaction whatsoever.

  Alex and Cullen had left him at the corner desk, supplied with Cullen’s stolen gear, to hold off anyone coming from the north and west. Fine by him. It gave him more room to move around if needed and no worry about collateral damage if he lost control.

  Ah, losing control. Larkin cherished the moments in his past when he’d been green-lit to make trouble. Not much opportunity under Ferdiad’s command, though. It could be worse. He could be back doing wet work for Maeve’s right hand sleaze, Lugaid Heller.

  That bald bastard could rot in hell, circled by an endless array of banjo players for all he cared.

  Larkin reloaded the HK from a mag in the ammo bag at his feet, pulled the charging handle to chamber a round, and continued firing blindly. A break in the return fire and a stream of curses caught his attention. Larkin peeked around the corner, glimpsed a stove-pipe round sticking out of the action of their assailant’s carbine.

  Well, hallelujah. He dropped the HK to the floor, sprinting to the occupied doorway while his enemy bothered with a malfunctioning weapon.

  Time to teach someone that knives never jammed.

  ***

  What made you tag along on this one, Ferdiad? Fergus thought to himself as he rode the elevator to Maeve’s fourth floor sanctuary.

  The plan had been fine. Slightly rushed given the timeline, perhaps, but it should have gone off without a hitch.

  Lugh, the age-old opposition to Maeve’s ascension, came to Fergus more frequently in the past few months, urging him to relinquish one of the girls downstairs. Something about everyone’s destiny nearing a turning point.

  Humph, the only destiny Fergus recognized was the one Maeve had beaten into him.

  All that changed a few days ago when he’d been made aware of Robbie Fergusson’s discovery and the implications of her incarceration. Never had a member of his family been held against their will to provide a child for Rebirth.

  The very idea that her father had arranged her capture and shuttled her from one stable to another over the period of four months made Fergus want to track him down and grind his bones to dust.

  But that would pit him against Lugaid, and even though Fergus was widely regarded as Maeve’s number two, no one messed with Lugaid Heller. His reputation among the families was legendary. The man’s propensity for underhanded dealings and capacity for torture made him untouchable.

  To hell with that. On Thursday he received another surprise visit with Lugh’s new information and contacted Ferdiad to build a plan the same day. He had enjoyed speaking with his old friend again.

  Hard as it was to stand by and watch Maeve’s bodyguards pummel Ferdiad, they both knew the tables were turned. Hell, at first Ferdiad handed out most of the beating, crippling two and leaving another two dead on the floor. Gary and Joseph finally gang tackled Ferdiad, doing all they could to exhaust the big man’s arms and the maul sized fists he swung.

  A word from Maeve halted Joseph’s chance to put a bullet in Ferd’s brain. Not the first time he’d seen Ferd killed. This would, however, be the last time the families could celebrate his Rebirth.

  His own sidearm drawn, Fergus stepped forward, uncertain of his choices. Security personnel exiting their first floor hive and fanning out across the atrium decided for him. Firing on Gary or Joseph, and especially Maeve looking down from the balcony, would ensure his quick death as well.

  A roaring, bucking Ferdiad became the center of attention, not Fergus with his ancient Colt in hand. One of his men joined Fergus on the way to the guard pile, now several men heavier. Only Ferdiad’s head stuck out from the bottom, his wild eyes and snapping jaws searching for targets.

  Holstering his weapon, Fergus slipped the baton from the guard’s belt beside him. He cast the telescoping wand to its full length. Bent low over Ferd’s head. Measured his swing and struck a blow that guaranteed his friend a few more minutes of life.

  Now, standing outside Maeve’s brain center, Fergus met a wall of guards blocking entrance to her library. Lugaid’s men, all of them. One stepped forward, issuing a sloppy salute. He extended an open hand and said, “Sidearm please, sir.”

  “Say again?”

  “Maeve’s orders, sir. All entrants to her quarters must disarm.”

  The last thing Fergus wanted to do was enter the lioness’ den without protection. Yet, at this point any attempt to disobey her orders would cause doubt to fall on him.

  Grunting his disapproval, Fergus unlatched his belt and handed it to the little upstart.

  “Do not touch it. I’ve had that Colt since before your daddy was born, and I’ll not have her molested by you.”

  “No problem, sir.”

  Fergus hitched up his pants, trying to get used to the absence of his sidearm. The wall of guards parted. One of them opened the door for him. A flood of soldiers occupying Maeve’s library affirmed questions he’d harbored for a long time.

  Organized like an army of ants, they lined the upper balconies and the borders of her main level. Not his men, not a one. They all belonged to Lugaid. He knew Maeve’s headquarters dug into the mountain but never imagined a secret barracks complete with units of well armed men bearing the Heller insignia on their shoulders.

  He stifled the surprise and betrayal. Sauntered up to Maeve’s desk as though he had everything under control. When in reality he’d left the security teams to fend for themselves. He had enough on his mind trying to salvage Ferdiad’s botched plans and keeping everyone’s heads on their respective shoulders rather than on pikes running along the footbridge outside.

  Gary and Joseph stood on either side of Ferdiad’s inert form. Stuffed into a visitor’s chair, his chin resting on his chest, and purpling bruises swelling his head, the bear snored loudly. The Maine boys, the best in their generation, flanked him like dogs guarding a bone. They coveted their prize and glared at Fergus as he drew near.

  “We had him under control,” said Joseph, the tall one.

  “I’m sure you did. But I wanted him alive so he could explain his intrusion of Cruacha.”

  “He deserved to die. You saw what he did to our cousins. Fergus, Doran is your foster son for god’s sake. He’ll be eating through a straw for months.”

  “Doran let Ferdiad under his guard. He’s lucky to be alive. And don’t forget, that bear you messed with has crushed a myriad of opponents in his lives. I think he went easy on you.”

  Gary rubbed his shoulder, wincing a little from the pain. “Not that easy.”

  “Enough belly-aching.” The command Fergus mustered in his voice stiffened their spines significantly. They’d been trained to perform, not complain or make excuses.

  Ignoring the red faces, Fergus turned into Maeve’s reproachful glare. They’d known each other for far too long, on so
many levels. Every now and then he dreamed of the original Maeve, her fierce pride and intoxicating beauty. The pride was still there; it formed the essence of her soul. Beauty she required from each of her reincarnations, but now it seemed so artificial.

  Each body was a shell hiding the ancient, greedy witch inside. Like this one, sitting ramrod straight in her chair, boring holes through his eyes as though she attempted to read his mind. Pretty sure he’d be dead by then if she truly had the ability.

  “Maeve,” he nodded in deference, “didn’t I just dispatch four men to accompany you to the third floor?”

  A few more seconds beneath Maeve’s intrusive stare until she blinked and answered, “I sent Morrigan in my place. No sense putting myself in harm’s way when I can send an immortal shape-shifter, right?”

  “Good idea, actually.” He indicated the spare visitor’s seat and asked, “Mind if I sit down, Maeve? These old knees are killing me, and I have the feeling it’s going to be a long night.”

  “Be my guest.”

  “Your backup security team is surprisingly robust.”

  “Do you like it? Lugaid suggested it years ago, just in case the general Cruacha defenses failed. Tell me, Fergus, how do you think such a thing occurred today?”

  Fergus tugged his beard, outwardly contemplating the events of the day. “To be honest, I assumed Ferdiad was killed in action, and you were biding your time in bringing him back. I’ve just been trying to get a net around this incursion. There hasn’t been time to ponder his intentions.”

  “Come now, Fergus, he’d have only one reason to invade Cruacha.” Was she buying his blank look? “Wake up, Fergus. Ferdiad knew I would be present for the Rebirth ceremony and sought to avenge his wife’s death or demand her return. Either way he failed miserably, don’t you think?”

  Self centered as always. Fergus decided to play along.

  “I suppose he could have installed his team and moved in close enough to assault you. Good thing you found him out before they had a chance to acquire weapons. But honestly, how could he possibly expect to capture you and make demands afterward?”

  “So, a straightforward assassination? Foolish. He’d have to know I can come back in mere moments and turn his lives into an eternity of pain.”

  “True. But, Maeve, you know Ferdiad as well as I do. He’s been laying in the weeds for nearly a decade, festering over how you’ve wronged him.”

  “I did him a favor. His wife also. The man should have kissed my feet for the mercy I showed them. Did you know, I offered his wife Rebirth?”

  “I did not,” he lied.

  “It’s true. They could have started over again, enjoying youth together and the discovery of true love and blah, blah, blah. You get it. But no,” her voice raised, face contorted, showing a loss of her normal control as she hefted a fist-sized paperweight and launched it at the unconscious Ferdiad’s chest. “He chose to honor his woman’s request and denied my gift. The ungrateful wretch. Why even give her a choice?”

  “Clearly, he harbors resentment toward you. Why else would he invade Cruacha? Would you prefer that I deal with him?” Please, release him to me, Fergus thought.

  Her eyes darkened, something he’d learned to avoid in his many years.

  “No, I have plans for him. Perhaps I’ll have him clean up his own mess. In the meantime, I want you to resume your command of the security forces and quell the threat in my house. I don’t want anything to interfere with tonight’s celebration. Am I being clear?”

  “Very. I’ll head down now.” He stood, trying hard not to show the regret he felt for his friend. After Ferdiad woke, he was sure to face some extremely uncomfortable hours.

  “Fine. Take the cargo elevator down, and watch for Morrigan’s ascent. Then shut down the elevators altogether. Make sure they run only from your op’s center. I want both ends of the building sealed. Your teams should welcome the exercise, don’t you think, Fergus?”

  “Most definitely, Maeve. Teams Alpha and Beta have been itching to test their mettle outside of the field.”

  A last look at Ferdiad’s inert form and Fergus retreated from the library. Maeve appeared to take everything in stride, assured of her own security. The overabundance of Lugaid’s men told him otherwise. He just hoped he could cover his own backside long enough to stumble onto plan B.

  Outside Maeve’s penthouse doors, Fergus retrieved his gun belt and strapped it on. After cinching it tight he grazed the inside of his thumbs along its contours out of habit. The Colt wasn’t seated the way he left it. That damn kid. In the privacy of the cargo elevator, Fergus examined his Colt on the way down.

  Something wasn’t right. He’d held the Colt for lifetimes and knew it better than most men knew themselves. Light, a few grams perhaps, but light nonetheless. He ejected the magazine. Popped off a few rounds. His self-loaded .45 ACP cartridges remained, but closer inspection revealed tiny holes drilled into the shell. Only the primer and bullet remained.

  Someone, on Maeve’s orders, handicapped Fergus, guaranteeing his impotence in a firefight. Maeve’s trust wasn’t running very deep, and Fergus just discovered he’d lost all vestiges of obedience.

  ***

  A flurry of activity and widespread panic reigned over the second floor. People scrambled everywhere.

  Robbie split from Laeg’s side the moment Val took off. She couldn’t stand knowing Amelia slept nearby without her mother to hold her.

  Laeg used his preternatural charm at the corner desk, telling the attendant they had a priority assignment to find the baby. Heading west into the mountainside, Robbie checked clipboards hanging alongside the doorways, hoping to spot Amelia’s birth date on one.

  No names. Just dates and medical information such as gender, weights, and feeding times.

  The layout here had to be different than the apartments above. Six feet separated the doors on each side. A pane of glass allowed her to look in, barely enough room for a bassinet and a supply rack inside.

  The babies lay under thin blankets, no toys or mobiles hanging from the ceiling. Not a stitch of colorful art on the walls. And certainly not their mothers. Judging by the number of doors on this wing there could be nearly a hundred babies. How could they possibly take them all without being noticed?

  Then Robbie remembered who she accused. Maeve used the law and enforcement agencies to her benefit. Other than innocent families and well-meaning communities, there would be no concerted effort to find these children.

  She passed over a dozen clipboards without a sign of her daughter. Her frustration mounted. Robbie wished she had a weapon in hand, something she could use to force information.

  “Robbie!” Laeg called out.

  She spun in the hall, careful not get knocked over by nurses rushing by. Funny, they didn’t look like heartless leeches. But then again, she couldn’t think of anyone in the family who hadn’t compromised their virtue to some extent.

  Laeg held a piece of paper in his hand. He waved it to get her attention, and she raced back to join him.

  “Room 205, down by the elevators.”

  Her heart leaped. Robbie barely contained the emotions boiling inside.

  A thundering explosion rocked the ceiling above. Everyone in the vicinity ducked for cover. Tiles popped out of their brackets, falling to the floor in a cloud of dust. Others, farther out from the blast’s epicenter over the stairwell doors, dangled.

  “What’s happening?” cried the desk attendant from below the counter.

  “Looks like there was a break-out on the third floor,” Laeg responded. “I’d recommend you move away from here, just in case someone else comes through these doors.”

  “Maybe you can take us down to room 205,” Robbie suggested.

  Their heads low and backing away from the entry doors, the three headed toward the elevators at the south end. Nurses hastily keyed open doors to comfort wailing babies surprised by the explosion. Guards drew their sidearms or trained carbines on the double doors to the n
orth.

  In the five or ten minutes since Maeve blew their cover, there seemed to be precious few orders issued from the security office. Either the guards on this floor sucked, or Fergus hadn’t updated them on the in-house threat.

  Wearing official uniforms and led by a nurse from the active shift, Robbie and Laeg passed without a second glance.

  222, 221, 220.

  Robbie held back the urge to plow through the nurse and run for room 205. Just a few more steps.

  The nurse wove a path between rushing personnel, a squish of air exhaling from the sole of her right shoe along with her fast pace.

  Room 205. Nurse Suzanne swept her key card over the door lock. Laeg stepped aside so Robbie could enter. And wouldn’t you know it, at the moment she’d finally reached her daughter, fate had to toss a hand grenade her way.

  The elevator doors parted ahead of them. Startled at first, she calmed when she identified Val smothered in combat gear clearing the threshold, weighed down by the long duffel bags crossing his shoulders.

  Commotion from behind alerted Robbie and Laeg. The corridor seemed to close in on them when a six member response team cleared the double doors and fired tear gas their way. Everyone scattered, attempting to reach the safety of nursery rooms or dropping to the floor in trained submission.

  Unarmed and determined to see her daughter, Robbie spun the handle leading the way into the room.

  Her father stood inside, Amelia in one arm, a pistol in his free hand aimed at the bridge of Robbie’s nose.

  ***

  Who was surprising who here? Val glimpsed Robbie standing next to Laeg’s crown of red hair and was about to toss a duffel their way when the all-around panic increased like a fox just hopped into the chicken coop.

  At the far end of the hall. One by one, a team of six slunk in then attached themselves to the walls.

  Canisters arced in the air, landing halfway and puffing noxious smoke. Following protocol in order to reduce any collateral damage. Good, they just produced a smoke screen he could work with.