by Tom Barber
FORTY FOUR
Archer and Jesse were sitting in front of the computer screen, Archer’s Sig Sauer in his hand, just in case. He was finding Ledger and Angela’s absence strangely unsettling. As a group, they’d been drawn into some intense experiences during the last couple of hours and for better or worse, they’d begun to feel like a makeshift team, each with their own skills to offer.
With the pair gone, it felt as if there was something missing and he was worried for them out there.
However, he knew the wisest thing for him right now was to stay put with Sarah and Jesse. Out on the street, they were much more vulnerable. Although he was convinced Ledger was innocent, they’d eluded arrest for hours, leading the Feds on a chase all over town. Not for the first time in his career he knew he had a lot of explaining to do, and that was if he didn’t get shot before he had the opportunity.
Looking at Jesse, Archer saw that apart from a cut across his eyebrow, he seemed to be doing OK. His maroon Redskins jersey was ripped in several places. Archer looked at the number on the kid’s jersey and smiled.
‘Your favourite player?’
Jessed nodded. ‘He’s a badass.’
‘What’s his name?’
As he told him, Archer realised it was the same guy he’d had dealings with on the Amtrak service earlier, the drunk asshole who’d been harassing the staff and other passengers.
‘You a fan?’ Jesse asked.
‘More of a rugby guy.’
The teenager grinned and shook his head, but didn’t reply; then the grin faded.
‘Somers was my best friend as long as I can remember. But after what he did, I feel like I don’t even know who he was.’
‘You had no idea what he was planning,’ Archer said. ‘There’s nothing you could have done to stop him.’
‘I know,’ Jesse replied. ‘I just I wish he’d given me the chance.’
As Jesse fell silent, Archer turned and saw Sarah was still sitting alone in one of the offices, the blinds drawn behind her. Rising, leaving the teenager alone for the moment, he walked into the other room.
Sarah didn’t speak as he entered, but she didn’t tell him to leave either. Archer leaned against the table beside her. Two people who’d grown up together but had been apart for so long they almost felt like strangers.
‘You remember that Christmas when we went up to Maine?’ Archer suddenly asked. ‘Think I was thirteen. It was a few months before…’
She nodded, slightly puzzled. ‘I remember.’
‘Dad took me hunting. First and only time. We stalked a deer; took forever, but I eventually got it in my sights.’ He looked at her. ‘Had it right there, the reticule on its eye, Dad beside me waiting for me to pull the trigger.’
He paused.
‘But I didn’t.’
‘Why?’
‘Because it didn’t have a choice.’
He paused.
‘I think about people I’ve hurt since I’ve been doing this. People who had their lives ended because of me.’ His face hardened, and he looked at her. ‘But they were bad, Sarah. Every one of them was trying to either kill me or someone else. They had a choice. They made the wrong one.’
Sarah remained silent.
‘When people ask me why I became a cop, I say it’s because it’s something I always wanted to do,’ he said, looking at her. ‘But you’re the reason why. You always have been. If I can help other people, in whatever way, it almost feels like I can almost make up for what I did to you.’
‘So how does it finish, Sam? How do you think it’s going to end?’
He didn’t reply.
‘You’re putting your life on the line every day. Have you ever thought how I’m going to feel if you get hurt? If you die?’
Turning, she swung her wheelchair round to face him.
‘A job like yours took Dad’s life. Mum’s been gone for over ten years. We don’t have anyone else. Apart from me, you’re the only Archer left. And every day, I half-expect a knock on the door or the phone to ring telling me that you’ve been killed.’
She paused, turning away so he wouldn’t see the tears welling in her eyes.
‘You’ve got so much going for you and you’ve got so much ahead of you. So many years of life. I don’t want you to miss out on that.’
She blinked furiously, trying to stop the tears sliding down her cheeks.
‘And I don’t want to lose you. Not another member of this family.’ She turned back. ‘Christ, these people after you tonight are the freaking NSA, Sam. That’s not David versus Goliath, it’s David versus an entire army. And you can’t just keep running. They’ll find you and kill you without a second’s thought. You can’t beat them.’
‘Harry’s my friend and he’s innocent. I couldn’t know he was in trouble and just let him go down.’
‘I’ve got a friend who used to be a Metro Lieutenant. When Jack told me you became a cop, I asked him to do what he could to keep tabs on you, to let me know if you ever needed help. I know about New Year’s Eve in London, four years ago. Christmas in New York three years back, where you almost drowned in the Potomac. That night last year in that building in Harlem? I know the risks you took; what you went through. I don’t know how the hell you’re still here.’
He didn’t reply.
‘If you keep this up, you’ll die, Sam,’ she said. ‘Ledger might be your friend, but he’s a one off. What about all those other people you’ve been willing to give your life for? Will they ever know who you are? Will you ever know them?’
She shook her head.
‘To all of them, you’re anonymous. Just another cop. But you’ll risk everything for them and don’t care about the people who do know who you are, your family, the ones who’ll have to deal with losing you forever. Just like our asshole father. Christ, before he died even he wrote to me talking about what you were doing in London with the ARU. That New Year’s Eve night where you almost died. Did you bother to even think about us? Let us know you-’
She went to continue but her voice faded away as she saw her brother staring at her intently.
What she’d been saying had just triggered something in his mind.
Inside their Bureau car, Peralta and Font were now on the safe side of the River, away from the rioting. One of Sorenson’s analysts had spotted the stolen vehicle they now thought Ledger and the others had taken, travelling through Washington Circle only a few minutes ago and they were right on it.
As Font drove, Peralta called the Metro Forensics investigator they’d encountered at the hospital where Jeff Cummings was shot.
‘Hello?’
‘It’s Peralta, from Boston. You’re on speaker; Font’s here with me. How are you getting on over there?’
‘Little confused, to be honest.’
‘How so?’
‘We’ve been dusting Jeremy Somers’ suicide note. Jeff Cummings’ prints are all over it from when he picked it up, which is what we expected, but there’s something odd.’
‘Odd?’
‘Somers hasn’t left a single print on it.’
‘Perhaps he wore gloves?’
‘This wasn’t exactly a clandestine operation though, was it? The opposite in fact. Why would he wear gloves to fold up a suicide note to stuff it in his pocket?’
‘Maybe Jesse Mayer will have some answers,’ Peralta said.
‘You know where he is?’
‘We’ve got an idea,’ Peralta said, looking at the GPS. ‘I’ll call you back.’
‘OK.’
‘Let’s call it in,’ he said, scrolling for Sorenson’s number.
‘Not yet,’ Font said.
‘Why?’
She glanced at him. ‘I don’t want anyone listening in to know where we’re going.’ She smiled, pulling her pistol and checking the chamber. ‘This is gonna be our arrest after all, partner.’
Inside the reception area of the Washington Circle office building, two ERT officers in full body armour and car
rying rifles were standing well back out of sight, scanning the people passing outside every so often, ready in case Sam Archer or Harry Ledger showed up. They’d arrived here just a couple of minutes ago, their Commander getting impatient and wanting them to take up positions on site.
His voice suddenly came over the radio. ‘Nowell, Jackman, report.’
‘No-one here, sir,’ Nowell replied.
‘Baylor, Pearson.’
Silence.
‘Baylor, Pearson, report.’
The two men in the lobby looked at each other, their fellow officers not responding from the basement parking lot.
Having dealt with the two cops in the basement car park, the Barry Farms gang moved up the stairs, weapons ready. They’d already seen the two cops in the lobby through the glass window to the stairwell door, but hadn’t bothered with them, making their way past and on up the stairs, the cops having no idea they were there. A full million was too much to risk alerting the people they were after by taking easy shots at the cops.
Having just checked out the 4th floor, they headed for the 5th.
Racking a round in his pistol, the gang leader led the way, twelve guys right behind him.
The two officers inside the lobby were just heading towards the stairs to the basement to check on their colleagues when a passing car suddenly drew up outside the building.
Before they could react, a figure got out and ran towards them, pulling open the door and sliding something across the floor.
‘Hey!’ Nowell shouted, taking off after him, but the man was already back in the car which roared off down the street.
‘Sir, we just got something,’ Jackman said, joining Nowell by the door and reading the licence plates as the car sped away.
‘What is it?’
The two cops looked back at the object the man had just slid into the lobby; it was a cube about the size of a large footrest. In the dim light, the two men found themselves staring at three flashing lights on the box. One was green, the other two red.
Then the second light turned green.
Clicking on the flashlight attached to the end of their MP5s, the two officers saw the box was packed with small black balls, a single hole in each.
And the clear interior of the box was lined with what looked like explosives.
On the 5th floor, Sarah’s last comment had stopped Archer in his tracks, almost as if a spotlight had suddenly illuminated a part of his brain that had been operating in the shadows.
‘What?’ she said. ‘What is it?’
He didn’t reply, replaying her last words in his mind.
The way she’d phrased it.
Anonymous people.
But you’ll risk everything for them.
Archer turned and ran out to the computer. Surprised, Jesse made space for him as Sarah wheeled herself over, curious to see what had suddenly grabbed her brother’s attention.
‘What are you looking for?’ she asked, wheeling her chair closer.
‘Anonymous,’ Archer said. ‘Their recent operations.’
‘That justice group?’
He nodded, tapping the keys and then scanning the screen. ‘Targeting social media accounts of Middle East terrorist organisations. Writing open letters to several Mexican drug cartels warning them to abandon their activities in parts of Latin America.’
He scrolled down.
‘Revealing private information on a group of violent gun-runners to try to stop them trafficking weapons.’
He looked further down the page, seeing a headline they’d glanced over earlier.
NSA’s Q Division terminates contract with weapons developer.
‘They exposed that CEO of a weapons company who was selling his product to drug cartels, effectively putting an end to the company overnight.’
‘So?’ Jesse asked. ‘What does that matter?’
Archer clicked into the article and tapped the screen. ‘The company was Rozio.’
‘The weapons we’ve been coming up against all night, right?’
Archer nodded, various scenarios running through his head.
However, before he could say more they all looked towards the door.
There was a strange and unfamiliar sound coming from the floors below; a rumbling, and the noise of smashing glass.
It was getting louder.
And closer, fast.
FORTY FIVE
Kinetic Fireball Incendiaries was the technical name for the contents of the black box that Thorne had just slid into the lobby of the office building. A Rozio Weapons Systems patent, in layman’s terms the box contained a load of hollow rubber balls filled with rocket fuel. When exposed to fire, the balls release a high-temperature exhaust that propels them in all directions, rapidly heating the interior of a building to 1,000 degrees Fahrenheit.
Chaotic, violent, and terrifyingly destructive, the balls were designed to annihilate bunkers, silos or military installations.
However, right now they were proving equally effective at destroying a D.C. office building.
Immediately realising the black box was some sort of bomb, the two ERT officers had only just made it outside before the device detonated, the pressure blowing both men off their feet and thumping them into a parked car.
In a terrifying display of destructive power, the balls annihilated the interior of the lobby, smashing the glass, blasting open doors, the heat intense as the balls pounded their way around the lobby and up into the stairwell, the fire roaring up into the void as the balls pinged off the walls.
On the 5th floor of the building, Archer, Jesse and Sarah were still rooted to the spot, hearing the unfamiliar noise getting closer.
Archer had no idea what was causing it, but he knew it was something terrible.
Reacting fast, he bent down and scooped a startled Sarah out of her wheelchair, running towards the door, the sound of explosions and breaking glass from below amplified by the stairwell.
‘Follow me!’ he shouted to Jesse, who was already right behind him.
Shouldering the door open, Archer instinctively drew back from the noise and heat. However, as he looked down to where the noise was coming from, he was startled by the sight of a group of men on the stairs below, bandannas loose around their necks, guns in their hands, the same colours as the group who’d been in Anacostia before the drone hit.
But none of the men were looking up at him.
They were focused on something below.
‘Roof!’ Archer said to Jesse. The boy didn’t need any encouragement, sprinting up the stairs as Archer followed, slowed by carrying Sarah, the fierce heat and noise increasing by the second behind them.
Taking the stairs two at a time, Sarah clinging onto him tightly, Archer saw Jesse reach the fire exit, frantically fighting with the door which wouldn’t open.
‘Push the bar down!’ Archer shouted, still half a flight from the door, Sarah looking over his shoulder in terror.
Thorne and Deerman took cover behind their vehicle fifty yards from the building as a series of rapid fire explosions blasted out the windows on all the floors, the blasts going off in rapid succession, the most awesome display of firepower either of the two men had ever witnessed as the Kinetic Balls annihilated the building.
Five floors up, Jesse finally managed to get the fire door open just as Archer reached him, both of them running onto the roof.
‘Go right!’ Archer shouted to the boy, diving to the left with Sarah.
A split-second later fire erupted through the door like a blast furnace. Archer covered Sarah as the sound of whistling, pinging and bouncing came from all around them, tiny rubber balls springing off the roof surface and into the night.
He felt the building shaking, explosion after explosion coming from below.
‘Jesus!’ Sarah screamed.
The fearsome blasts seemed to go on and on, then finally died away, smoke now pouring from the burning building as the last explosion echoed into the night.
Ri
sing from behind their cover on the street, Thorne and Deerman watched the building burn, car alarms around them going off, joining the shrill bell echoing through the building they’d just blasted. The place was on fire, the Kinetic Balls had done their job; the Barry Farms gang, Archer, his sister and the kid incinerated.
‘It’s done,’ Thorne said in Spanish. ‘Nothing could have survived that.’
‘We need to split,’ Deerman replied. ‘Ledger and the reporter bitch are still out there and this place is going to be flooded with cops any time soon.’
The two men turned, climbing into their car, but before they could shut the doors, a voice came through their earpieces.
‘Wait a minute,’ Burnett’s voice said.
‘What?’ Thorne asked.
‘Holy Christ.’
‘What is it?’
‘I’m back online on a fresh server. I’ve got pictures from a camera directly opposite from a comms tower. We’ve got movement on the roof.’
‘What?’
‘Wait. The smoke’s partially blocking the view.’
Pause.
‘Son of a bitch! It’s Archer, his sister and the kid. They’re still alive.’
Swearing, Thorne and Deerman grabbed their rifles and ran towards the burning building, knowing emergency crews would probably already be on their way; they didn’t have long. Inside, a few remaining sprinklers were spraying water from what was left of the ceilings; they were helping control the fires, but running into the burning building wasn’t what either man would have chosen to do.
‘This whole place could collapse,’ Deerman said, looking up at the smoke pouring out of the windows above.
‘Not yet,’ Thorne said, knowing the effectiveness of the Fireballs Device was in its initial explosive power. Once that was spent, the temperatures cooled pretty fast unless there was something feeding the flames.
Looking at the still burning interior, Thorne swore, considering their meagre options.
‘Riley, Tarketti, get over here right now and take up a firing point!’ he ordered over the radio.
‘What about Ledger and the reporter?’
