"Live fire!" she yelled on tac-net at the same time as twelve other voices, and tac-net switched fast to combat mode with a flurry of new electronic linkages. "Live fire! Everybody move move move!"
Tac-net showed an eruption of activity below her position, security swooping on Benale, Neiland and others, hurtling them in through the main doors at speed with weapons drawn as the rest of the entourage scrambled madly in panic. The two missiles were at one thousand metres and closing fast, tac-net back-tracking their point of origin, highlighting a residential block on the Herat perimeter. The grounds' defensive firegrid sprang to life, multiple emplacements within the half-finished gardens springing from the ground, zeroing upon the racing threat. Vanessa knelt behind the low wall rimming the Chambers' edge, and saw only too well that both missiles were headed straight for the convoy parked beneath her position.
"Red squad!" she snapped, even as the firegrid erupted in multiple streams of fire. "Get mobile, target tac-net HT5 ..." a location square upon tac-net's regional map illuminated in illustration, "... get me those launchers at the source."
A minor storm of exploding projectiles erupted across the incoming missiles' course with a deafening roar ... one missile vanished amidst the explosions, the other emerged nearside, tumbling, then ploughed into the gardens and exploded in flying clods of earth. To Vanessa's left, several of her soldiers were scrambling from their positions as a Trishul flyer howled hovering into position upon the rooftop edge. Armoured soldiers leaped onto the rear hold ramp, which sealed behind them as the Trishul's engine nacelles angled and the flyer tipped dramatically nose-down, accelerating at maximum toward the source of the missiles.
"Was that both?" she heard someone from security yelling on tacnet. "That's it? We got 'em both?"
"We are condition red!" Vanessa announced sharply. "No relaxing!"
The words were barely out of her mouth when tac-net registered multiple new contrails, four more from the original position, and another four ... no six ... coming from a new site to the north. No, eight ... ten.
"Green squad, get mobile, target tac-net GT3!" There were fourteen now, another four soaring skyward from the original location. Six were coming in flat like the last two, the other eight arcing straight up into the clear blue sky. It took military weaponry to fire so many highV missiles so close together. And there was nothing she could do, because sweeping surrounding tower blocks had not been her responsibility any more than was making sure those weapons hadn't fallen into the wrong hands in the first place. In that brief, time-frozen moment, as the missile contrails arced high, long and white, she recalled the two little children upon the broad verandah below. And now, here came the rest of Admiral Duong's convoy, having abandoned landing upon the approach road to skim airborne toward the steps at head height, scattering people in all directions.
The firegrid opened up on the low-flying missiles; again the roar of detonating projectiles ripped the air just shortly above the heads of the fireworks-firing protesters, whose mass disintegrated into a running, falling, screaming panic. Several warheads exploded in a fiery rush-the first two had been low-yield practice shots, Vanessa realised. Another broke apart, then fire tracked the last three at blinding speed across the near sky, erupting explosions streaking straight toward the chamber's grounds ... one exploded, and the previous broken warhead blew the approach drive to hell as it fell. A fifth ran wide and slammed a high stone wall with a building-shaking boom! The sixth performed a final evasive twist, then slammed into one of Duong's convoy of cruisers, which exploded even as passengers attempted to jump down to the stairs, bodies and debris scything across running, scattering personnel.
Then the high-trajectory missiles were falling, firegrid emplacements making fast, swivelling adjustments, weapon muzzles blazing skyward in a protective shield. Fully the first half were struck on the way down, eliciting a split-second rush of hope. But then the reasoning behind the high-low fire-spread became clear, as rushed emplacements lost their fire sequence in the hurry to adjust to new targets on totally opposing trajectories. One whizzed down past Vanessa's nose and blew much of the broad stairway to burning shards. Another ploughed into the parked cruiser convoy, blasting one into a flaming somersault amidst the smoke and debris. More vanished in midair explosions, Vanessa crouching with squinting determination not to leave her position as metallic fragments rained down, and firegrid detonations tore a ceiling of fire just armspans above her head. One last explosion shook the foregrounds, and Vanessa allowed herself to believe she might live through it after all ... and the last, spinning missile ploughed into the chambers' roof ten metres to her right. Directly on top of where Hydek and Gavaskar had been crouched, awaiting further orders.
"Airborne squads!" Vanessa announced as visibility vanished amidst the cloud of roiling debris. "You have local command, those are residential locations so maintain a midintensity assault pattern and watch for local network infiltration."
And was amazed at how steady her voice remained amidst the chaos. To her right, tac-net informed her, several more soldiers were running to the aid of Hydek and Gavaskar.
"Red Leader copies," came back one reply. "Green Leader copies." Four armoured assault flyers went fast and low toward the origins of the missile attacks.
"First and fourth squads, maintain that perimeter! Third squad, close cover for the VIPs, maintain an outer perimeter around their security." Tac-net showed those eight soldiers on ground level rushing to comply, their positions moving through the Chambers' graphic to shadow the cluster of dots that marked Neiland, Benale, Duong and their security ... so Duong was still alive. She hadn't noticed either way until then.
Ambulance sirens howled, several were rushing up the approach drive, taking a bumpy detour around the crater there. From below, at the foot of the broad stairs, flames crackled and wounded screamed, as others shouted desperately for help. To her right, soldiers had reached Hydek and Gavaskar ... Gavaskar was alive, there were shouts for a medic, and more instructions to remove armour. Vanessa remained crouched, jaw tight, eyes fixed only on the tac-net display. She knew she had frozen. Maybe that was okay, there was nothing more she could do but watch. Vid-displays from red and green squads' approaches lit her visor ... a green squad flyer came under fire from a missile, took evasive action amidst a cloud of countermeasures. The missile missed. The second flyer let fly several volleys of machine-guns and rockets, clearing the rooftop in seconds.
Red squad met with small arms fire, rapidly ended with two bursts of high velocity fire. Through the drifting smoke of pulverised ferrocrete, she made out a quad-barrelled, personnel-mounted missile launcher, lying on two rooftop deckchairs beside a row of potplants. A second later, tac-net identified it for her further benefit-a Kawamatsu AT-3, Federation model. The assault rifle by the dismembered corpse that had fired upon the flyer was also Kawamatsu-made. For some reason, beyond the immediate concerns of tactics and survival, that rang alarm bells.
Tac-net showed the two of her four aerial units still on the grounds, their transport hovering nearby in lethal anticipation. Another unit was now inside the Chambers, providing close quarters support to VIP security that included the elite Alpha Team of Presidential guards. Her perimeter was now thin, but ample enough. And she dimly realised, then, that someone in security was shouting at her on tac-net, demanding to know more, as flyers now poured armoured troops onto the rooftops of the two residential blocks from which the fire had come, while others established defensive positions upon the streets around the base, halting traffic and yelling at gawking pedestrians.
"That's it?" was all Vanessa could think. Long range bombardment with military-standard weaponry ... a hell of a lot of effort to acquire the weapons and plan the assault without detection, but for very little strategic result, save a lot of smoke and noise. Just like the first attack upon Sandy. Click! went her brain, in that dazed, hyper-sensed slow motion. That first attack had been little more than distracting. The second, more lethal attack had
come shortly after. Probably not by the same people who carried out this one. Damn, green and red squads were probably wasting their time, better to leave these shooters to the cops.
"It's not over!" she announced onto tac-net. "All units, listen close-we're going to treat this one as a decoy!"
"A decoy!" spluttered the same unidentified security man.
"Stay sharp and watch yourselves, don't rely too much on procedure, we're going to assume there's been a breach! Don't trust anything, I don't like the smell of this one at all."
"Major Rice," the security man cut back in, "on behalf of the Secretary General, I demand to know what is ... "
"If you don't get the fuck off the tac-net," Vanessa snarled, "I'm going to have you declared a security threat and shot! SHUT UP!" Then to the troops on her right, "Hussein, Silchenko, Yadav, with me!"
She unhooked the rapelling cord on the front of her armour, placed it upon the lip of the wall and activated the fuse-a flash of smoke and it sealed tight to the stone. She grabbed the slim wire in one armoured hand and leaped from the edge, even as the other three ran to follow her. The winch howled as it unwound, and then she was falling past enormous stone columns, through rising smoke and clouds of debris, flames and running people below. On the tac-net, the terse, fast com mands of red and green squads sweeping the buildings. Below that, the brief commands of other unit leaders on the ground, closing up the gaps left by red and green's departures.
Ten storeys straight down, then the stairs were rushing up, littered with debris. She hit, cut the wire, ran up the remaining half-flight and toward the broad main doors. The Grand Chambers' central hall was colossal, its broad floor gleaming, its high walls covered with scaffolding for work on statues and decoration. Vanessa's armoured footsteps echoed as she ran across the front domed atrium, toward the long hallway beyond, noting the wounded lying against the walls, tended by small clusters of terrified people. Blood spilled on the beautiful floor-tile patterns.
The run down the central hall was long, and gave her further time to assess the situation. Neiland and Benale, the tac-net showed her, were two levels down in the prearranged secure zone-the kitchens, which were themselves halfway to the bomb shelters ... but those had not yet been fully completed. Duong was separate from the others, with his own small team of Fleet security-marines, no doubt, good close quarter fighters but perhaps not so adept at assassination techniques.
She stared at the visor display while running, allowing the suit's powered myomer musculature to do most of the work, and saving her energy. The assault was well organised, she wasn't about to let its lack of success blind her to that. Ari and Sandy had just found evidence of higher-level complicity in the supply of arms where they shouldn't have gone. People up that high had a lot to lose. They didn't take such huge risks without good reason. And so a long-range bombardment was all they had? Not damn likely. On the first page of every assassin's guidebook was the simple rule-first, get close. Long-range bombardments were an iffy proposition. No, what they wanted was a single shot to the head at close range ...
Tac-net detected gunshots from the kitchen, and her heart missed a beat. A graphical leap and zoom, and she heard it clearly, many urgent voices, the crash of what might be stainless steel benches, and a distant, muffled shooting ... too far away to be immediate, she realised with a rush of relief.
"This is Alpha Leader," came Chief Mitchel's voice then, cool and professional. "We have gunfire nearby, I estimate it might be coming from Admiral Duong's position."
Vanessa flipped channels at speed. "Hello, Amazon One? Amazon One, do you copy?" And cursed that the one group of people she might have welcomed on the tac-net had turned down her request in the planning phase. "Can anyone contact Amazon Team? Is Dacoit in contact?"
She took a hard right into a smaller corridor, aware of her three soldiers closing behind with their longer strides, then arrived at a stairwell and rattled down it at speed. All she had on the tac-net was the dot representing Duong's position-those trackers were mandatory, com frequencies weren't. More muffled gunfire.
"... I'll take four and check it out," one of the Alphas was saying.
"Negative, if the Admiral's in trouble he'll ask for help."
The shooting seemed to grow louder. Vanessa left the stairwell in a lower corridor, unadorned walls, exposed, dangling electrics and unfinished construction, her three fellow troopers almost at her heel.
"... big fucking trouble!" suddenly came a panicked burst of transmission that tac-net identified as Fleet marine. "It just fucking came outta nowhere ... I can't contact the others, we've got localised jamming, I don't even know where the fuck I am ... !"
Vanessa arrived at the big doors that led to the kitchen, braced open now with two Alpha Team men in dark suits covering their approach, lean black weapons in hand.
"Marine, calm down and tell me your situation!" Vanessa snapped, halting at the junction before the kitchen doors. Her troops rattled and crashed hard into position along the corners, covering each direction.
"I ... I dunno . . . " a pause for hard breathing. "I dunno how many, it all happened too fast, we lost the LT and then ... " Static, as the line went abruptly dead. Vanessa swore under her breath, taking in this lowerlevel schematic upon her visor, trying to figure the situation. Beyond the kitchen, the main passage to the underground bunker. In the intervening rooms, storage, temporary quarters for Chambers staff, a veritable maze of half-completed, half-constructed passages and rooms.
"Major Rice," came Mitchel's voice, "we are in position to deploy five men to assist."
"Negative," Vanessa commanded. "Alpha Team will hold its defensive position and maintain highest alert." There was a brief silence.
"Copy, Major." And Vanessa got the distinct feeling that Mitchel and she were thinking exactly the same thing. Past the thumping heartbeat and quickening adrenaline, she felt the first real stab of fear.
"Alpha One," she continued, holding her voice steady with an effort. "I want you ready to get everyone up to the surface real damn fast, you got me? I can't draw more people down here without stretching the perimeter-we already have emergency evac on its way, I want all VIPs in those evacs and away from here as fast as possible."
"Return to the surface?" asked Benale's security, breathlessly. "What about those missiles?"
"I copy that," said Mitchel, ignoring the interruption. "What about the Dacoit?"
"I'll get him. When I give the signal, get the hell out, no detours."
She gave fast hand signals to her troops, and rushed down the lefthand passage, assault rifle poised and ready to move at the slightest motion. Tac-net showed a right-hand corner leading past the kitchen-Vanessa flattened her back to the right wall, covering leftwards while the helmet eyepiece unsealed and swung out into the corridor, to show her a clear view of empty passage. She spun and ducked low, Sergeant Yadav closest behind-he was seniormost, a former SWAT private rapidly promoted to cover the influx of raw recruits. Private Silchenko was youngest and greenest, but talented. Private Hussein scored well in skills, but less so in tactics. A picture formed in her mind-an instinct-of what she could count on, and who, and when. And immediately she heard Sandy's voice in her memory: "don't predict anything, just react."
She moved fast and light down the passage, Hussein remaining to cover the last cross-junction. Paused again at the next corner, then raced across. Two more like it and she'd be at Duong's position-a storage room with multiple exits, doubtless his marines had liked it better than the kitchen, and they hadn't been real thrilled about working in conjunction with Alpha Team and the Secretary General's security. Vanessa couldn't really blame them.
There was construction equipment at the next cross-junction, scaffolding blocking half the way and newly installed electrics dangling. Vanessa scanned first, then spun about the corridor edge ... there was an armoured marine lying face up on the hard floor. Only the basic armour for away missions, not the full combat kit that she wore herself. She took in
the marine's injuries without dropping her eyes from the corridor ahead-one shot to the forehead. At the doorway to Duong's storage room, another assault rifle lay upon the ground, scarred where two precise shots had torn it from its owner's hands, presumably while holding it blindly around the doorway and firing.
"Okay, people," Vanessa announced, trying to keep her voice calm while feeling something cold and fearful attempting to creep up her spine. "We've got ourselves a GI down here. Maybe more than one." Waving Yadav past as she spoke, to cover the next junction down. Silchenko followed, moving swiftly backward, covering her back.
"Copy, Major," said Mitchel. "Are you certain?" And not just panicking at the first sign of blood, he meant.
"Among non-GIs, I'm one of the best shots I know," Vanessa replied. "But I'm not this good, no damn way." No light came through the slight gap in the doorway. Vanessa reached into a leg-pouch, and withdrew a miniscan. Activated the button, and rolled the small, armoured sphere in through the gap ... a flash of multispectrum activity from the sphere, and a patchy, 3-D graphic swept across her visor, angles changing as the ball continued to roll. No activity. It looked clear. Vanessa took a deep breath, and slammed an armoured foot into the door, slamming it open ... it crashed upon an obstruction inside and she stepped forward to brace with her shoulder so it didn't rebound, rifle scanning the darkness with feverish intensity.
Her heat-scan showed many blotches upon the floor. Human sized, and larger. Tac-net found a local electrical circuit attached to the network-she let it access, and the power came on in a flickering buzz of fluoro. The storage room looked only mildly untidy, the odd box knocked from a pile against a wall, some construction sheeting fallen from otherwise empty shelves. Only that between the rows of shelves lay the lightly armoured bodies of Fleet marines. Vanessa walked cautiously to one wall, then along. Many of the fatal wounds were headshots. Those that were chest-shots were actually several holes so close together that the light armour had ruptured. There had been ten marines in Duong's entourage. In the storeroom, she counted seven ... and Admiral Duong.
Killswitch: A Cassandra Kresnov Novel (v1.1) Page 18
