Fifty meters to the villa’s rear was a garage on the shore. On prior occasions, Park had seen a few classic BMW cars, a Hummer and jet skis, along with a fleet of speedboats.
Now, the villa had no spark of joy around it. Park’s instincts told him there was movement on the shore when his eyes did not.
Green glowing spots flickered near the trees by the shore. He wiped the lenses of the binoculars but soon realized what they were. He was too late and unprepared to react.
A dark figure stepped out of the trees. He had a large cylindrical object on his shoulder. It was aimed at the yacht and lit up with a roar in the storm. A trail of smoke and fire approached Park from the figure.
Park panicked and swung Edna Morgan off the yacht and ran behind yelling, “Abandon ship!”
Quill dropped the beer and jumped overboard. After he was submerged underwater for a few seconds, he felt a force travel through the Pacific current. It knocked him a few feet back and when he surfaced, feeling the fire beside him.
Nick Park crouched behind the cockpit. The front of the hull was not present anymore. Water flooded into the burning hole and slowly began to sink the ship. If Park was correct, he had seen an FGM-148 ‘Javelin’ anti-tank missile launcher fired by a man clad in black from head to toe. The Javelin, made by Raytheon and Lockheed Martin, used a HEAT - High Explosive Anti-Tank - warhead that could take out armored tanks. This yacht was no match for it.
He saw more black-clad figures materialize from the trees and aim similar Javelins at him. The rear of the missile launcher, that looked like it was rolled, lit up. The firing and propulsion systems worked in a two-step process. First, a small explosive thrust pushed the missile out of the launcher. Then, when it was in the air, a few feet away, the real propulsion system fired up and took it up to a maximum range of four and a half kilometers.
As the missiles neared, Park knew there was only one option. He grabbed the backpack and leaped into the frigid stormy Pacific. Before he could reach the water, he felt the heat of the blast tearing his favorite home to bits.
The icy waters sent his adrenaline pumping. His weapons bag slipped away and sank to the ocean floor. He was never a great diver. So, he surfaced and spotted Morgan and Quill. The rookie was helping his boss swim towards the shore. While Quill swam effortlessly with the weight, Park was being lashed around by the waves.
McCain was being held captive by the people who killed Roy, thought Park. The two men whom he had fought with in the lab now had their backup forces ready. Anger and lust for retribution kept fire and energy flowing through Park’s blood. With all his energy, he kept swimming the half mile towards a certain capture and death. He grew over-confident that he would kill as many of the black clad men as possible before giving up. There would always be a way to turn the tables after capture. He knew this because no one could keep their guard up continuously.
It took a couple of minutes to set foot on land. His hands and legs were worn out and in pain. Just as he picked himself up and stood searching for his cop friends, the muzzles of four compact P-90 sub-machine guns were struck into his abdomen. Around him were men in black fatigues and gear, with heads covered in black balaclavas just like the ones he had faced a few hours ago.
The FN Herstal P-90 guns looked like something out of a futuristic sci-fi movie. With its bull-pup stock and an overhead box magazine that contained 50 rounds, fired at the rapid rate of 900 rounds-per-minute, this weapon was truly as magnificent as it was deadly. There was no use overpowering four men with itchy trigger fingers on four P-90s. Park was outgunned.
He saw Quill and Morgan standing nearby with hands locked in flex-cuffs. A black clad figure was behind each of them with their guns pointed at the cops’ heads.
Behind the trees, Park spotted five small black hovercrafts with .50 caliber machine guns mounted on them. The gait of the hostiles was familiar but Park couldn’t place them.
The captive cops must have been told to keep quiet in order to not bite the bullet. They silently looked at Park with pleading eyes that had come to terms with defeat. Park just smiled at them and kept moving where the black-clad men were taking them. By the back door of the villa, two more men held Nate McCain at gunpoint. His eyes were bruised and his jaw bleeding. The hostiles had worked briefly on him and probably had gotten what they’d wanted. The billionaire looked pleased and angry to see Nick Park.
“What’s the damage? Tell me you did not make it easy for them.” McCain’s voice was tired yet filled with rage. At six and a half feet, with broad shoulders and a barrel-chested figure, the sixty-year-old business genius was an intimidating figure. His silver hair was thinning and his face sprouted a French beard. He had a personality that could persuade most people into anything with just words.
Park replied, “They killed Roy Miller, completely stole the products of the research along with the stone. Nate, the lab’s blown up. Who’s their leader?”
“He’s around.” McCain looked fearfully around. “Please tell me you’ve called for backup. Your contacts could clean up this mess if they knew. Whom have you contacted?”
“Damn nobody.” Park sighed in defeat. “You know that I’ve given up my past. I came here for help but was too late.”
McCain smiled and took a Ruger pistol from the hostile guarding him. He burst out laughing maniacally. Despite the storm, his irritating laugh echoed around the area. The hostiles stopped pointing their guns at the billionaire.
“From one former Army Ranger to another,” McCain began. “You were a pawn too easy to handle. I have to thank you for both the vaccine serum and the small military force you’ve provided me with.”
The black-clad man next to McCain removed his balaclava. It was Darius Cross, Park’s one-time best friend. Cross grinned like a demon. His primate-like looks reeked of stupidity. Everything he was in life was because of Park.
Shock struck and flowed through Nick Park like a wave of current. He cursed himself for not thinking of this sooner. All the pieces were present but his delusional determination towards his research had made him choose the wrong ally and send his old team towards the wrong path that he had been trying to prevent.
The two cops looked at Park in confusion. He just cursed at everything. Cross gave him a few hits with the P-90’s stock and joked at how it was long overdue.
“Come along, there’s something awesome that I wanna show you,” McCain said as he headed into the villa. The black-clad men, twenty-four in number, were all members of his old unit. They prodded the cops and Park with the guns and nudged them towards McCain.
The villa lit up with white lights automatically when McCain entered. They navigated through a labyrinth of walls teeming with aquatic life. They came to stop facing a wall filled with red water under the glass. In the midst of the red mist in the water was a skeleton covered by a brown county police uniform. Bits of flesh wavered around the water.
Sheriff Morgan gasped and let out a tear. She was the first to recognize the body of Deputy Sheriff Stan Harris surrounded by well-fed piranhas. Her fear turned to anger. She lunged to strike at McCain but was put down by a strong uppercut by a black-clad man. Cross kicked her in the shin and laughed.
“You’ve got a crazy bitch here, Park. Tell her to calm the hell down or I put a bullet in the rookie’s head,” ordered Darius Cross.
Dominic Quill gazed at Park in fear. He only saw defeat in the microbiologist’s eyes. They were all damned.
“Who were the ones who executed Roy Miller?” Park demanded.
“Oh, just some of my Turkish partners. Not that you’ll ever meet them but you’d hardly recognize the complicated mess you’ve helped simplify, do you?” McCain was almost blowing his own trumpet. This annoyed Park. He just wanted everything to be over but just being around these traitors irritated him beyond reasoning.
McCain led everyone back outside slowly towards the garage. Half of the hostile force got on the hovercrafts and began readying them. Each hovercraft could carry only f
ive men. This was one of the smaller models.
The billionaire pointed the Ruger at Park’s head. “Okay. You have a minute to give me the names of everyone you’ve told about this regeneration research. If you live, you’ll go with these cops to be lab rats for the rest of your short lives.”
Park wondered about the reason of McCain’s stupidity. Men like Park would see through the bluff. If one wanted information, torture might work. But when doing what McCain was doing here, it would be a failed plan if the subject died.
“I know what you’re thinking,” McCain continued. “But let me tell you that if you die here, I can find it out through other means. I’m freaking serious, kid.”
He flicked off the safety of the Ruger.
Park had not told anyone about the research. He knew his time was over and shut his eyes. The chaos in his mind made him unable to focus on anything. The migraine increased tenfold.
“Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, . . .” McCain began counting.
The two cops had tears covering their faces.
Park relaxed. He heard a loud shot.
The former Ranger was dead.
10
Chapter 10
June 2nd
02:20a.m
South-East Alaska
A shot thundered in Park’s ears. A couple more followed. Then came three rapid explosions blasting through the aquarium walls in less than a second.
Park opened his eyes in confusion. He saw the traitors hurling themselves onto the hovercrafts. They acted with the fear of the devil coming after them. None of them cared about Park and the two cops. A 40mm high-explosive grenade was launched from behind a tree, flew in a vertical curve and landed by a dark hovercraft just as that amphibious vehicle’s engines fired up. The hovercraft shot between a couple of spruce trees and splashed into the water, barely missing another grenade.
All five of the hovercrafts were speeding through the channel, within a few seconds of the first grenade explosion. Five black-clad traitors on each of them.
The cops began calling out to a new set of figures who had attacked the traitors. But Park was calmly staring at the lifeless body of Nate McCain at his feet. A bullet had passed through the traitor’s temples, killing him before he could execute Park.
Renewed by new hope, denying the confusion, Park picked up McCain’s Ruger pistol and began examining the new figures.
Three men and a St. Bernard made their way towards Park. The dog had body armor on along with a tiny camera mounted above his eye and an earpiece to receive orders from his partner.
The men were wearing mountain camouflage BDUs with a light but highly weaponized gear. Over their helmets were multiple scopes and a pair of protective goggles. A thick acoustic safety and communications unit covered their ears. On their armored vest, was a .50 caliber Desert Eagle pistol holstered near the chest. An array of magazines and grenades were in pouches on their vests. On their hips were two Colt M1911A1 .45 caliber pistols that were loaded with customized explosive rounds. They all carried a Heckler & Koch MP7A1 sub-machine gun strapped and placed on their backs. A variety of blades were sheathed on their bodies.
The dark skinned man who was the dog’s partner had a Barrett REC7 assault rifle with an under-barrel-grenade-launcher. A fairly short redhead, who was on the side had a Remington XM2010 enhanced sniper rifle in his hands. In the middle was a tall hulking man, wearing red tinted aviators and clutching an M32 multiple grenade launcher in one hand and an M600 SR precision guided assault rifle in the other. On their pants were cylindrical devices and they carried a small gear bag on their backs.
The man in the red aviators saluted Park as he came to a halt. “We’re lucky we found you in time. Major Nicolas Park, your work has been targeted by very powerful people. Please co-operate with us in securing your vaccine.” Park remained silent and did not move. He wanted explanations and listened to the man in the red aviators as he continued, “Oh, let me explain. Major Harold Ryan of the Delta detachment whom you knew from Operation Cobalt five years ago, was promoted to the rank of Colonel after you left the service. He got his own task-force known as COBALT that runs covert ops for DIA and DARPA. I’m Captain Damian Blood, call sign - Bloodhound. These fine soldiers here are part of my Hounds strike team. We work for COBALT and Colonel Ryan.”
Park knew they were credible but saw a problem. He pointed and glanced at the cops. “Why reveal all this in front of them?” His face was full of confusion.
The Captain smiled through his thick beard and went to the cops. He pulled a foot-long, serrated Bowie knife from a sheath on his back, between his shoulder and neck. With two swift motions, he cut the flex-cuffs from their hands.
“You both are neck deep in this and I’m commanding you to stay in this fight till it’s over,” said Blood to the cops and turned to Park. “The good Colonel has somebody watching the island, mainly your lab. We watched the video feeds of the attack, the explosions and your chase. I’m truly sorry for the loss of your intern and the betrayal from your boss. Our ride for pursuing the hostiles will arrive shortly.” He looked at the sky and back.
The microbiologist shook his head. “The hostiles are none other than my old Ranger unit - Life Support. McCain has employed them for security in his refineries but now he’s using them the way they’d enjoy. But the men who attacked the lab are his Turkish partners. That was all he revealed before you sent him to hell.”
“Yeah, we did suspect a group of Turks.” Blood said. He looked at the redheaded sniper and bellowed, “We’ve been given fucking bad intel! Loggy , connect me to the Colonel. He lied again. We never knew we’d have to fight a platoon of traitors.”
The sniper removed a tactical tablet computer from Blood’s gear and began keying into it. “He’s kind of busy Dame. We’ll keep trying till our bird arrives.” He placed a hand on Blood’s shoulder that was above the sniper’s head. He turned to Park and said, “I’m Logan Tanner, best sniper produced by SEAL Team Three.”
Nick Park nodded. He thought the sniper’s grin was comical and that he was a person who could retain his cool. There was a bond between Blood and Tanner that Park didn’t pretend to understand. And Park noticed a temper problem in Blood along with what seemed like a habit of making hasty decisions without any analysis. He shrugged it off and decided not to misinterpret anyone.
The St. Bernard barked twice at Blood. The Captain replied, “Not now, Buck! We’ll find the spy later.”
The dark-skinned operator who was the dog’s partner cleared his throat. “Major, may I ask why you and your intern were bunking in the lab today?”
“Now that you ask, it was McCain who suggested it,” Park explained. “He told us to stay with the research and run a few more tests early in the morning. Yesterday, when the vaccine was synthesized, he kept promising galas and gifts.”
“But that’s not what you worked for. You wanted to help the world but made it even more dangerous.”
“What’s your name, soldier?”
“Sergeant Will Lark of the Green Berets, sir!”
“What are we waiting for, Captain?” Park demanded at Damian Blood.
“The bird will be here in a minute. But first, I’m waiting for one of us to share a secret with us all.” Blood stared at Quill with eagle eyes.
“What the hell is going on, kid?”
The young cop shrugged, let out a weak laugh and explained. “I’m Corporal Dominic Quill, sir! My job here is to keep an eye on Nick Park for the Defense Intelligence Agency, sir. My orders are to only relay intel and never to engage under any conditions.”
Park squealed a laugh. “Oh, son of a bitch! The military never let me be.”
“No, no, no, no no!” Sheriff Morgan gasped. “I’ve known and trained you. You’re a real cop.”
“He’s as real a cop as I’ve fought robots!” joked Blood and faced Park. “You should be thanking him. We wouldn’t have known about the threat to you and reacted if not for his intel. Some of it doesn’t add
up, but that’s for another day.”
The Pave-Hawk copter with the NOAA logo came into view overhead. Park looked up and smiled. “Should have known the fake research helo was a form of help arriving.”
The buzzing of the copter increased with sounds unnatural to the Pave-Hawk. Blood was the first to spot danger. From beyond the channel, two attack helicopters approached. They were a brilliant gunship model, AH-64 Apache, manufactured by Boeing. The hope on everyone’s faces dropped as the Apaches opened fire on the Pave-Hawk with its 30mm rounds. The Pave-Hawk turned away and began fleeing to stay undamaged.
“Captain, we’re being attacked. The pick-up is a negative!” came the voice of Jake Trevor over the Hounds’ radio channel.
“You’ve got rockets and Gatling guns all around our copter. Return fire! Don’t return to pick us up till those damn Apaches are in flames!” Blood tensed up as he screamed orders over the radio.
“Affirmative! We’ll catch up with you after frying a few birds,” replied Dave Harper. A Sidewinder AIM-9 missile shot from an Apache. It blew up in the air, a few yards behind the Pave-Hawk from the chopper’s flares deployed as counter-measures.
Blood muttered, “That’s the spirit. . .Now we’re screwed.”
Logan Tanner struck luck with the tablet computer. “I’ve got connection and am transmitting with the Colonel.”
“What’s the matter? I told you not to contact until the job’s over!” Colonel Harold Ryan’s voice was dull in the storm.
Captain Blood explained the situation with bursting rage. He could not help cursing in every sentence even though he was talking to his superior. This immediately made Park respect him.
“Can you identify the hovercrafts?” asked Ryan.
“Best guess is that they’re Russian-made Czilim class hovercrafts used for their Border Guard. It can fit six hostiles along with two as crew to man it. The armaments have been customized and refitted with a .50 cal. As far I know, only four of them were ever made! But there are five over here, already making their way to the Pacific!” Blood explained.
Alaskan Storm (Part 1 of Blood Stone Impact): A Taskforce COBALT Action-Adventure Technothriller Page 7
