by Craig Reed
The trio ran for the stairs and started up.
* * *
Nadim Mahdi watched the SUV shoot across the road and speed into the office park. He scowled, then tapped his driver on the shoulder. "Get closer, but don't let them see you."
There were three men in the car, a BMW 328i that had been stolen that afternoon. All three were ICA veterans, sent by Ilshu to observe the attack and follow up if the new recruits failed. It looked like there was a new player involved.
The dark blue car rolled up the driveway just as three figures ran into the building. The car that had just driven in was facing them, its headlights still on. Mahdi thought for a few seconds, then said, "Go in."
The BMW rolled to a stop near the front of the building. All three exited the car. "Follow them in, or wait here?" Faisal, Mahdi's driver, asked.
The sound of an engine starting up somewhere above them interrupted Madhi's thoughts. He frowned for a second, then smiled.
"We go to the roof. Tell the fighters to kill the newcomers."
CHAPTER SIX
SeaStar Warehouse
When Liam Reilly had been a SEAL, he had done a number of 'ghost' missions — sneak in, complete the objectives and sneak out without raising the alarm, or even leaving evidence that he or his team had been there. But now, he was frustrated by a ten foot gap that was brightly illuminated and at least half a dozen armed racist assholes only thirty feet away and in full view. Had he been alone, he might have tried it, but not with Stephen and Danielle in tow. He thought through several plans, but rejected each one as impracticable. And there was no telling where those two roaming guards were.
What was really frustrating was that the other half of the team had run into something dangerous — a "Condition Omega" — and his team was stuck unable to complete their mission without having their own Condition Omega.
From his position in the shadow of the stacked shelves, he could see the NFFA members with only the darkness to protect him. He was about to tell the others to retreat when Sledge shouted, "Where are those two Poephols?"
"Don't know," one of the men sitting around the table replied.
"You don't know much of anything, do you, Wit?"
Wit shrugged. "I know enough to break heads, drink beer and find a kut when I need it."
"Why, your hoer's flea collar go bad?" Sledge picked up a radio and snarled into it, "Berg, Carel, where the hell are you two? Answer me!"
"Probably spending some cuddle time together," Wit said maliciously.
"Carel! Berg!" Sledge snarled into the radio, then when there was no answer after ten seconds, tossed it down onto one of the tables.
"Wit, you and Jilt go find those two."
"Why should I?" Wit asked.
"Because if you don't, I'll break both your arms and your jaw."
Wit rose out of his chair. He wasn't quite as large as Sledge, but he looked more muscular. Listen—" he began, when gunfire ripped out of the darkness.
Several NFFA members, including Wit, were struck and went down in bloody heaps. Tables and chairs went flying as the survivors grabbed their R4s and scrambled for cover.
"Let's go!" Liam whispered. He rose to his feet and charged across the ten-foot exposure, Danielle and Stephen behind him. They didn't stop, but continued racing down the aisle until they reached the corner, where they turned right. Ahead, steel stairs led up to a second floor and the target offices. The stairs were against the warehouse's outside wall, the two sets separated by a small landing.
By now, gunfire was hot and heavy from where the NFFA people had been. Liam recognized some of the gunfire as coming from AKs, while the rest was probably the guards' R4s.
He motioned to the stairs. "Stephen: point. Danielle: next. I've got rear."
Someone shouted over the din of fire. Stephen stopped, his head cocked. "Arabic," he said quickly, "ordering someone to advance."
"Analyze later!" Liam said, slapping Stephen on the back. Move!"
Stephen ran up the stairs, followed by Danielle. Liam waited until they were halfway up before following, keeping his P-90 pointed in the general direction of the gun battle.
A trio of steel railings offered no protection from either visibility or bullets, so the team moved as far away from the edge and as close to the wall as possible, staying low as they raced up the stairs and reached the upper floor. Liam used the lock pick gun to open the nearest office door and motioned the others inside.
The office was plain, with a desk, a computer, several photos of ships at sea, a couple of chairs, three filing cabinets, and three white boards with shipping and loading notes written in erasable marker. A window was set into the far wall, and there was a second door to the left of the door they'd used. Two large windows were on each side of the door they had just come through, shielded from outside by closed blinds. The closed door to Liam’s left was the only other exit.
Liam stayed by the door and eyed Danielle. "How long to download?"
"Ten minutes.” She removed her backpack and took several items from it. She placed them on the desk and sat in front of the computer.
"Be quick," Liam said. He could hear more AKs than R4s now, a sign the guards were losing.
"Stephen, check what's through that door. We're going to need another exit out of here."
"Right."
Liam adjusted his radio's frequency. "Black to White. We have our own Omega Condition here."
CHAPTER SEVEN
SeaStar Offices
The OUTCAST team raced up the stairs two at a time, one covering the other two to the next landing, then leapfrogging past them. By the time they reached the fourth floor, their legs were burning and they were slightly out of breath. Dante glanced through the fire door's small window and nodded. Naomi opened the door and the other two stepped out, Tanner going left, Dante right. Naomi followed, ready to help either one.
They could all smell the acrid stench of gun smoke in the hallway. To the left was the outside wall, consisting mostly of windows overlooking the driveway below. Gunfire, from ahead and to the right, told Tanner that the hitmen were still there.
They moved quickly down the hall to the first set of glass doors, which had been shattered, fragments littering the carpet both in the hall and inside. Tanner stopped just short of the doors, Naomi and Dante stacking up behind him. Tanner glanced through the glass into a small reception area.
"Black to White," Liam's tone was low but forceful. "We have our own Omega Condition here. We're in the office, but there's a gun battle going on below us. Black Three's working the computer, but we're definitely going to have to shoot our way out. Black Two says whoever they are, they're speaking Arabic."
Tanner’s eyes scanned the room. "Do what you have to. If it comes down to any of you or the data, leave the data. One out."
Seeing no one, Tanner stepped through the door frame. Naomi and Dante, pistols up and ready, followed.
The reception area consisted of a desk, a few chairs, a pair of side tables, and several large photos of the company's ships on the sea-blue walls. Two sets of translucent glass doors, one set directly across the lobby from the main doors, the other to the left, behind the receptionist's desk, led deeper into the offices. Bursts of gunfire, overlapping and of various lengths, echoed throughout the offices.
Tanner motioned to Naomi and Dante toward the doors ahead, while he moved to the doors on the left. Looking at the other two, he nodded and they moved through both set of doors.
* * *
Dante went through the door low and to the right, while Naomi went left and high. A wall forced them to turn to the right, and they found themselves five feet away from an armed thug. He was dressed from head to toe in black, facing away from them, firing an AK-47 full-auto into an office door and window, shredding the thin wooden door, shattering glass, and wrecking the office inside. Empty casings flew out of the Russian assault rifle, bouncing on the floor in a jingly brass rain.
Naomi stroked her pistol's trigger
twice, and the enemy shooter’s head exploded as both .45 slugs slammed into it. As the gunman fell, both Naomi and Dante heard someone shout, "Abdel!"
Both OUTCAST members moved forward at a fast walk. Before they reached the body, a second armed combatant appeared from around the corner, his AK-47 rising to butcher whoever had killed his comrade.
Naomi and Dante were faster.
They both fired twice, and at point-blank range, the heavy slugs ripped into the masked man's head and torso, knocking him off his feet and onto the ground. Both OUTCASTs moved forward, pistols still at the ready. The hallway to the left opened up into a small common area, while to the right it ended in a short hall. There were two bodies in the common area, a man and woman dressed in business attire, butchered by gunfire. A water cooler had been savaged and a table hacked up by the same rounds.
"Three to One," Naomi said softly into her radio. "Two Tangos down, two Civs KIA."
"Three Civs KIA here," Tanner came back. "I also have one WIA Civ. No Tangos yet."
Naomi led the way across the common area, carefully stepping over the bodies. She and Dante could see four offices around the outside of the common area, each one shot up, and another hallway leading deeper into the office. They moved to the corner where the common room and the second hall met. Before they could lean out, the corner dissolved and splintered under a hail of bullets. The pair pulled back and rode out the swarm.
"At least two," Dante said loud enough to be heard over the radio.
There were a pair of loud clicks and the bullets stopped coming. Naomi and Dante leaned out, Naomi on one knee, Dante above her. Both saw their targets — two more black-clad assailants — franticly trying to reload their AKs. Both OUTCASTs fired and the foes went down in bloody heaps.
The OUTCASTs continued forward.
* * *
In the other hallway, Tanner crept forward. The gunfire had stopped. "Two more Tangos down," Naomi said softly in his earpiece.
"Copy, Three," Tanner said. "We're two Tangos short. Be alert."
He had already passed three bodies, and a fourth who was wounded, but still alive. He hadn't said a word to her, wary of being ambushed while distracted. The smell of cordite was strong, and he noticed plenty of empty shells scattered around the floor. Rank amateurs, he thought. Stupid, but unpredictable.
He moved past a couple of empty offices on his left and a conference room to his right. A break area was to his front and right, while a closed door, presumably leading into another office, lay to his left. Ahead, the wall curved, with a door that stood half-open. A brass plate was mounted next to the door, but from fifteen feet away, Tanner couldn't read it.
The OUTCAST leader’s experience and training gave him a split-second advantage in what happened next. Even as his mind registered the black figure rising up from behind the break area's counter, he turned, crouched and fired three times in rapid succession. All three slugs struck the attacker center mass, ripping through his chest and out the back, spraying the wall behind him with blood. The AK tumbled from his grip, bounced on the counter, and clattered to the floor. The body dropped out of sight.
A flash of movement from his left made Tanner spin in the direction. The last black-clad adversary stepped out of the office, AK braced against his arm and hip. For an instant, Tanner saw the fanatical gleam in the man's eye before he pulled the trigger three more times.
The AK fired into the ceiling, but its wielder was already dead, ripped open from head to upper chest. He dropped to one knee before falling face first onto the carpet.
"Two Tangos down," Tanner intoned, quickly changing magazines for his pistol. "That's all of them, but stay alert. There might be a few bodyguards still active."
Tanner moved forward a little quicker, toward the corner door. Once he got closer, he moved to the left side of the doorway. The plate next to the door said, "Horst Aswegen, CEO."
Before he could push the half-open door fully open, Dante said into his earpiece, "Two to One. We're coming up on your right."
Tanner glanced in that direction and saw his teammates walking towards him, pistols held low, but ready. He motioned for them to stack up on the other side of the door. With a few gestures, he indicated their plan of attack. Once both of his colleagues nodded, Tanner raised his left foot and kicked the door open.
He counted to five, then went in low and to the right. Naomi came in high and to the left, while Dante went low and left.
What had been a nice office was now a mess of broken glass, bullet-marked wood and shattered objects. Across the room, a half open door led out into the outside corridor. The smell of cordite and blood was strong in the room, and the low thrum of an engine could be heard from somewhere above.
A pair of men dressed in suits laid on the floor in pools of blood, pistols still in their hands. Tanner glanced at them, checking for identification. "Neither one's Aswegen," he said.
"Must have gone out the door," Dante said.
"Helo pad," Naomi said.
"Let's move," Tanner said.
They darted across the room to the door, then eased out into the corridor. They could hear the helicopter, a low rumble from above. As the OUTCAST squad emerged into the empty hallway, gunfire erupted from the roof, pistol shots mixing with long bursts of automatic fire that overrode the helicopter's high pitched hum.
"Move!" Tanner commanded, taking the lead. The staircase for this end of the building was only ten feet from the door, and the team climbed it quickly, pistols up and ready to fire.
On the first landing the gunfire from above ceased and as the team reached the top of the stairs, the pitch of the helicopter engine changed. By the time they stepped into the open, a blue and white helicopter was already twenty feet in the air and rising quickly. They were too far away to see the helicopter's occupants, and there was no acknowledgment of their presence as the chopper continued to rise into the sky.
"Tanner!" Dante pointed. "Bodies!"
Tanner looked away from the helicopter, now disappearing into the night sky, and in the direction Dante was pointing. Four bodies were sprawled near the helipad, hidden in the shadows. The team went over and checked them. Two were bodyguards, the third a pilot, and… When the lighting on the roof showed Horst Aswegen's pale face and lifeless eyes, Tanner knew they had failed. All four had been shot multiple times; there was not a pulse among them.
"We'd better get back down there and see if there's anyone left alive to question," Tanner said. "Let's move."
The three ran for the stairs. As they started down, Tanner transmitted on the radio, "White to Black, what is your status?"
CHAPTER EIGHT
SeaStar Warehouse
"White to Black, what is your status?"
Liam glanced back at Danielle, who worked at the computer, fingers flying across the keyboard.
"Downloading the data, but the fight on the floor is winding down. We don't know who the new people are, but I doubt they'll be happy to see us."
"We need a line on these people," Tanner said. "We're making a quick sweep here, then we're coming after you. You have an escape route?"
"Black Two's looking right now." The gunfire outside the office stopped. He heard shouts in Arabic from the floor below. "Two, what are they saying?"
"The leader is sending some of his men up here to check the offices, and to kill anyone they find."
"Shit," Liam muttered. "White, we're about to have visitors."
"Copy, Black. We're moving. White out."
Stephen appeared in the doorway connecting the office to the room next door. "Another office here, break room on the end. Each room has a window, and there's a connecting door out to the landing. Staircase at the other end of the landing."
"Watch the other staircase," Liam said. Stephen disappeared back through the door. "Dani, how long?"
"Seven minutes." Danielle had attached a couple of portable hard drives, each about the size of a pack of cards, to the computer with a pair of cords. She stuck
a thumb drive into one of the computers and typed out something on the keyboard.
Liam heard footsteps pounding on the steel stairs. Whoever it was, they weren't disguising their approach. He moved the blinds and pulled them back just enough to see the top of the stairwell. Three figures in black appeared, each carrying an AK-47, but from their body language, Liam could see they weren't expecting any problems. He glanced back at Danielle and motioned for her to get down. She slid lower in her chair, but kept typing.
Liam eased the blinds back into place and moved his free hand to the door knob, the other holding the P-90 at the ready. The footsteps got closer, and just as he felt the door handle move under his hand, Liam twisted the knob and yanked the door open.
The armed fighter standing in the doorway stared at him. He wore a ski mask, so all Liam could see of the man's face were eyes widening in shock. His rifle started coming up, but Liam stroked the trigger on his P-90, sending half a dozen 5.7mm rounds into his opponent from less than two feet away. The rounds traveled through the criminal’s body, several pining off the steel rail behind him. Blood pouring from multiple wounds, the dying combatant staggered back, AK slipping from his hands. With a moan, he toppled, striking the steel floor with a loud thud.
But Liam had already moved onto his next target, who had been about to open the door to the adjacent office. The opposition spun toward the sound of gunfire, his rifle swinging around first. Liam stitched him in mid-spin with a prolonged burst. The hoodlum continued through his spin and fell over with another loud impact.
A third burst of fire shifted Liam's attention to ruffian number three, but that man was already down, struck by a staccato burst from Stephen's weapon at the far end.
Liam motioned Stephen back inside as shouts came from below. Then someone with a commanding voice yelled one of the few Arabic words Liam knew.
"Fire!"
* * *
Yasir Ilshu clamped down hard on his anger as his men fired at the offices above them. He stood in the shadow of a shelf, watching as the new recruits set out to avenge their fallen comrades. Apparently, some of the guards were still alive, having killed three of his men. Granted, all three had been untrained, but they had been his men, and he didn't like losing men. Not to these infidels.
