Damien rounded the corner slowly, suddenly aware of just how open they were on this side. There was nothing around except the transmitter building dead ahead. The guard on the left side of the compound was maybe two hundred feet away now. Against the brickwork of the building they would stand out easily in dark clothing so Damien motioned for his team to get down low. He checked the next corner and identified the transmitter building. It was the first time he’d seen it without binoculars. It was concrete, one-story, with three windows on this side and one door. It was fairly closed in, but Damien knew most of the installation was underground.
He saw something move in a window. A round cracked past his face. He reeled behind the corner, flat on his stomach. So much for the element of surprise. The other guards would’ve heard the shot.
He edged forward, found the spider-web hole the round had created in the building’s window as it exited. He aimed a burst of rounds through it. They peppered the glass. Then more came. They weren’t from Grace’s side; it was the guard again. Damien listened to the rounds echo in the night. They were going wide. The guard didn’t know where he was shooting now. Good.
He checked his watch: 0326.
The guards would have requested reinforcements by now. The nearest army base was forty miles southwest of here. Damien estimated their arrival in twenty minutes. Not terribly much time, he thought.
His Nokia vibrated in his pocket. He crawled back even further and answered it. The backlight was disabled so it wouldn’t give away his position in darkness. He didn’t need to see who was calling.
‘Covering fire from both sides,’ Jay said in a low voice. He was on Grace’s team, on the other side. ‘You and Grace breach. Grace first, then you.’
‘Ready,’ Damien said.
‘Out.’ The call ended.
Damien readied himself. He shifted forward, aimed at the windows in the building closest to Grace’s side and punched burst after burst. He shifted to his side of the building and punched rounds into those windows too. As he did so, a ripple in the night moved low to the door. Grace. She was in position, on one knee, both hands wrapped around her Vector.
Damien took his AR-15 in both hands and got to his feet. He checked his left. The guard was missing. He crouched and waited, heard the muted spit of Grace’s Vector and saw a body slump to the ground on his ten o’clock. That was the guard accounted for.
The windows were almost ripped apart as Jay drilled into them. That was Damien’s cue. He kept as low as he could and moved for his side of the door. He was breathing faster now. His armpits were damp and sweat ran into his eyes. They had to clear the transmission building as fast as possible, but first they needed to deal with the guards in the front rooms. And without flashbangs or grenades that would be a touch difficult.
He sat up a fraction higher when he realized he was kneeling on glass fragments. Rounds cracked past his head again. He planted himself on the glass, clenching his teeth and fists as the fragments cut into his skin. But the guard wasn’t aiming at him, he was shooting out toward the adjacent building. Damien checked both sides: no one from his team was caught in the line of fire. He turned his carbine to one side and slid it over the window frame. He squeezed the trigger and filled the room with three short bursts, then withdrew the carbine to change mags. He heard Grace do the same, albeit much more quietly with her suppressed barrel.
He heard her move through the front room on the other side. At least they didn’t need to breach the door. He checked his room and found two bodies. No movement.
He climbed through and dropped into a silent crouch, barrel aimed at the open doorway before him. His boots almost slipped on the empty shell casings underfoot. He heard Grace moving whisper-soft into the corridor. He joined her and texted Jay the words ‘front clear’. He’d delete the sent message later.
The transmitter building was quiet. Before Grace, there was a roller door. It was locked up fairly tight and Damien knew it would make some serious noise when opened.
Grace moved her head from side to side. ‘No one,’ she said.
That’s peculiar, he thought. He heard movement from the front rooms and checked to make sure. It was Aviary, followed by Calvin. When he returned to Grace, Jay was already inside.
‘Crowbar?’ Damien said.
Grace shook her head. ‘Horizontal bar on the left, locked.’
‘Blow it,’ Jay said.
He dived into his daypack and removed a plastic container of Aviary’s petrol bombs.
Damien told Calvin and his knights to hold in the front rooms and listen for guards.
Following Grace’s X-ray vision directions, Jay taped the petrol bomb to the roller door, right against the bar that locked it. He ran the fuse ten feet and shooed everyone out to take cover. Grace retreated into the right-hand room with two knights. Damien moved into the left-hand room with Aviary, Calvin and the third knight. Jay was with them a moment later, closing the door and moving away. Damien covered his ears and waited.
The petrol bomb detonated abruptly, and then silence. Damien waited a few seconds before emerging, carbine aimed just in case. The roller door was partly ripped from its hinges, singed black. Globs of Grace’s mixture decorated the corridor and walls, still ablaze and sizzling. Damien moved through it, sensing Jay behind his left shoulder.
Through the door, the ceiling was crisscrossed with metal beams. Inside the beams he noticed wads of red cabling. An almost continuous line of fluorescent tubes ran past the beams and down the corridor, illuminating everything with an ominous green tinge.
The right wall was crammed with banks of equipment. It reminded Damien of the BlueGene lab in Desecheo Island, only decidedly more low-tech. The left wall was lined with hulking metal cases, like an army of hot-water services. He noticed an array of black and white buttons and knobs across them, and cabling feeding into their tops. They were best left alone.
There was a red fire extinguisher mounted on the wall, and a digital clock with bright red numbers that flickered with pointy edges. It displayed the current time, which agreed with his watch: 0331.
Damien’s Nokia vibrated again. He heard Jay’s buzz too. They were leading the team so had to ignore them for the moment. Grace moved behind them, Calvin at her side. She had instructed the jaguar knights to remain in the front rooms, low and out of view but ready to engage any guards that approached the transmitter station.
The corridor had two doors on either side and two more further down, with one at the very end. The first pair of doors were closed. Damien let the others take them and continued for the far doors. One was ajar. Damien waited for Jay to position himself before kicking it open. Aiming high while Jay crouched and aimed low gave the best arc of fire. There was no one inside.
An explosion, dangerously close. It knocked Damien to one knee. His carbine clattered across the polished concrete floor. Jay was sprawled beside him, pistol drawn at the explosion. It had come from the doors behind them.
Grace moved in. Her clothes were torn and there were cuts across her face and arms. She aimed her Vector into the room.
‘Clear,’ she said. ‘Calvin’s dead.’
Aviary was beside her, shaking uncontrollably.
‘Booby trap,’ Jay muttered. ‘Fucking hell.’
Damien couldn’t see inside the room or Calvin’s dead body from his current angle. He got to his feet and reseated the magazine in his carbine, then kicked down the opposite door and sprayed a burst inside. Too bad if it was the control room they needed, because he’d just blasted a bunch of computers. On further glance, they looked like office desks with racks of equipment; nothing that suggested a control room.
He turned to see Jay stomping toward Grace. She’d just finished clearing the other door near Calvin. It was empty.
‘You have any idea why this place is rigged?’ Jay asked her, a little too loudly.
‘Voice down,’ Damien said, approaching them.
Aviary was sobbing angrily, her carbine clenched betw
een whitened fingers. Her blazing mop of hair was dulled by a thin layer of dust from the explosion.
‘Tripwire,’ Grace said.
Blood was trickling down the side of her face. Damien wasn’t sure if it was hers or not.
‘They knew we were coming,’ he said.
‘Yeah, no shit,’ Jay said.
He turned and strode for the door at the far end.
‘Hold,’ Damien said, catching up.
Together, they trained their barrels on the door and approached. Damien waved Jay off, waiting for Grace to check it with her handy X-ray vision. She nodded her approval. No wires or explosives.
Jay kicked the door in. They leveled their aim on a descending metal staircase. It was dark at the bottom. Damien splashed his torch down to find no one waiting for them, although Jay would’ve shot them by now if there were. Damien paused, listening hard for any sound ahead before giving Grace the go-ahead. Once he did, she moved down the stairs, her body rippling into cloak mode again.
Damien let Jay follow first with his thermal vision engaged, then moved tentatively after them. He could feel his trigger finger tightening involuntarily. Sweat poured down his face, itching his neck. He moved forward, checking the floor and walls with his torch. He knew Grace and Jay were already clearing ahead with their superior vision, but it didn’t hurt to check again. He caught up with them at a T-intersection.
‘A map would be good,’ Jay muttered.
Damien checked his watch again: 0338.
‘We have ten minutes max until the reinforcements arrive,’ he said.
Jay grunted his disapproval.
‘Here’s the plan,’ Grace said softly. ‘I take the left, you both take the right. We clear this place room by room until we find the control room.’
Damien peered down the right passageway. Compared to the surface level, it was hardly lit at all. He strapped his light, red filter lens attached, to his carbine with electrical tape. He pressed his forearm into Jay’s back, indicating he was ready to go. He kept close to Jay, always in contact, always aiming in the direction opposite to Jay.
‘Stack on me,’ Jay said softly.
Damien fell in line behind him. The door in the room ahead was open.
‘Point split,’ Jay said.
In their Project GATE training, they’d learnt to do the dirty work from outside the room before even trying to enter. This was the best type of split to conduct where Jay could use his infrared vision and not give away his location with a torch like Damien’s.
Damien maintained his position, his carbine pointed slightly away from the door so his torchlight wouldn’t splash inside. Jay moved in a careful arc around the room, his carbine aimed and ready to shoot the moment he saw someone. When it came to room clearing, you either shot first or you died. Once Jay had reached the other end of the doorway, he’d cleared all but the corners closest to them.
‘Confined space,’ he said. ‘On me.’
He moved before the doorway, facing inward. Damien stacked up on him again and this time they entered together, Damien’s arm against Jay’s back so they never broke contact. They moved as one, carbines compressed into their bodies so they cleared the doorway, barrels facing opposite sides. The corners were their first concern; it was the only place left to hide. Damien’s side was clear, and judging by the fact there were no gunshots he assumed Jay’s side was also clear.
The room held nothing more than office cubicles. Damien started to wonder if their intel was wrong and there was no super-secret Seraphim transmitter control station here at all. But the heavily armed guards and the booby traps did suggest otherwise.
‘Clear,’ he said.
‘Room clear,’ Jay said. ‘On me.’
They stacked up again and moved out. Damien heard a noise. It came from further down the corridor. Jay was still moving; his hearing obviously hadn’t picked it up. Damien tapped him once on the shoulder. Jay paused. Damien pointed over his shoulder, in the direction of the noise. He could barely see his own hand, but he knew Jay could. He was probably nodding right now, clueless to the fact Damien couldn’t see him nod.
Jay held still for a moment longer, then moved forward again, arcing to the right so they could clear the next room. Damien took the left, sweeping his red light over the corridor. He opened his mouth and kept his steps wide and careful. He could hear a regular sound now. It was someone breathing slowly, carefully. And it wasn’t Jay. Or at least he didn’t think it was Jay. With the sound bouncing off the passage walls it could have been himself for all he knew. But he was starting to suspect someone ahead, lying in wait.
Jay reached the source of the sound: a second room. The door was closed. Damien stacked up again.
‘I’ll breach,’ Jay said.
No arguments there, Damien thought.
Jay reached in with his closest hand and, keeping himself at a distance and chest pressed against the wall, he swung the door open. Jay point split the room and reached the other side of the doorway, carbine aimed in through his sliver of view.
‘Corner fed, fast wall,’ he said.
That meant the doorway was in the corner of the room. The fast wall was the wall they would breach on. The corners at the wall on the other side, called the heavy wall, was the only place someone could hide.
Jay stepped out in front of the doorway. Without taking his eyes off the room’s interior he smoothly transferred his carbine to his left hand. Damien was left-handed, so didn’t need to. He stacked up behind Jay. This time they would both face the same way: right. Two corners.
Damien tapped him when he was ready. Jay moved instantly. Damien stepped in beside him, their footsteps perfectly in line. His torch splashed red through the narrow room, making the waiting soldier’s rifle glisten. A shot splintered between them. Then the room was ablaze with Jay’s muzzle flash. It would have made Jay a perfect target had there been multiple enemies in the room, but Damien’s wash of red light caught no one in his corner. He saw only one soldier, the one in Jay’s corner, now collapsed.
Jay retreated and lowered his aim. ‘Clear,’ he said, replacing his mag.
Damien kept his barrel aimed outside. His pocket buzzed. He checked the Nokia. Text from Grace: Got it. Come find me.
‘She found it,’ Damien said, turning and orienting himself with the dimly lit T-intersection behind them.
They moved into the passage Grace had taken, and into an upper level. Grace was waiting for them by a steel-reinforced door. Jay dismounted his daypack and rifled through it. Grace kept her Vector aimed down the corridor while Damien texted Aviary an update on their status.
Jay had the Interceptor out. With his multitool he unscrewed the access-card reader and plugged the Interceptor in, one wire into each end. He didn’t bother replacing the reader’s case; just let it hang there. He waved the Schlosser access card over the reader but Damien couldn’t tell if anything happened. Jay seemed impatient and was about to swipe again.
‘No,’ Damien said, taking his arm. ‘It must be stored in the Interceptor now.’
He grabbed another of the access cards, this one marked REPLAY, and waved it over the reader. This time, the reader beeped green and the reinforced steel door slid open to reveal the control center.
Grace pivoted her aim to inside. Jay snatched the third card, marked DISABLE, and waved it over the reader. It beeped red.
‘Inside,’ Jay said softly.
They cleared the room together. The reinforced door slid shut a moment later. Now no one could get in without using Schlosser’s access card.
Metal staircases led to a lower level with banks of computers. Once Grace and Damien had cleared it, Damien reached for his satphone and punched in a text for Sophia.
We’re sealed in. Don’t have long.
Chapter Forty-Five
Sophia squinted against the wind as Nasira positioned her thick steel pliers over a link in the hurricane fence. She’d wrapped a mat from the Honda’s footwell around the wire to muffle the sna
p. Chickenhead had found a spot to conceal himself and his L22 bullpup carbine and was watching the installation through a pair of night-vision goggles. He had a length of paracord to tie up the fence once they were done, assuming they didn’t need to make a quicker, overt getaway. Sophia used the team’s only other pair of night-vision goggles to scan the area between the fixed searchlights. Leaves and twigs sprawled across the open ground, carried by the wind.
Sophia’s satphone vibrated in her pocket. She checked it: Damien and Jay were inside. She didn’t say anything to the others yet; her voice might give their presence away. She’d tell them once it was safe to talk.
‘Let’s go,’ Nasira said, her hands tearing a triangle of the fence outward.
DC crawled through, his Sig Sauer P329 subcompact pistol in one hand. Nasira squashed his daypack down so he didn’t snag. Sophia was next. A light rain slipped through the treetops onto her face. She blinked and crawled flat through the hole, one knee bent and drawn to the side, then the other. She used her hips to move fast. On one foot, and then the other, she turned her knee outward into a squat — an old habit from combat that improved her balance while getting to her feet within an attacker’s striking range.
Chickenhead tied one corner of the triangle back in place. Easy to remove for their exit but hiding any evidence of foul play from a distance.
The concrete-walled transmitter was in the center of the installation. With Nasira behind her, Sophia overtook DC and led the way, her Walther P99 in hand as she cut a fine path between the fixed searchlight beams. She moved softly, stepping inward from the blade of her foot to avoid crunching on twigs. Despite the wind and rain, the noise of a large twig snap would carry through the silent installation. Reaching the wall, she slipped her pistol back into her jeans and kneeled down.
When DC reached her, she clasped her hands together. He put his boot onto her hands and she gave him a lift. With two steps up the wall, he was high enough to grab the top and haul himself up. She squinted in the rain: she could see him lying sideways along the top of the wall. He gave her the thumbs up.
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