Nasira caught her. ‘They took her,’ she said. ‘Let’s go.’ She helped her across the traffic and past her beaten-up squad car.
Everything went a bit fuzzy after that. Sophia found herself in the back of the SUV with three bound soldiers, their masks removed to reveal glaring eyes. She ignored them and propped herself against the side, her dizziness receding.
‘Who are you?’ Sophia said.
They didn’t respond. Their hands were bound in their laps so she could see immediately if they tried to free themselves. She kept out of arm’s reach while Nasira took the wheel, relegating Aviary to the passenger seat.
‘They can probably track this vehicle so we need to ditch it,’ Nasira said.
‘Follow the operative,’ Sophia said, her voice slowly gaining strength. ‘Then we do a costume change.’ She aimed her Glock at the nearest soldier. ‘And a bit of Q and A.’
Chapter 17
Damien sprinted through a grid of white boxes on legs, each box containing a miniature flowerbed.
Over his shoulder he saw Jay a few paces behind, his face pale from the jump. At the end of the green terrace he saw the Corinthian soldiers land. They started toward Damien and Jay, swords and daggers in hand.
‘Not giving up easy, are they?’ Jay said.
Damien started running again. He reached a row of beehives. He could see the bees inside, crawling across honeycomb. Behind him, Jay ducked a spatha and kicked one of the soldiers into a garden bed. It collapsed and both the soldier and the garden bed hit the ground together, spilling soil across the fake grass. Jay stole one of the wooden legs and kept moving.
Another soldier rushed through an aisle of boxes toward Damien, puglio gleaming in one hand. Damien stepped to one side, revealing a beehive behind him. He ripped the cage door from its slide. It wasn’t the swarm of angry insects he was hoping for, but a flurry of unsettled bees launched into the soldier, slowing him enough for Damien, still holding the beehive door, to bat the puglio from his grasp and slip the cage door under the soldier’s golden helm, crushing his carotid artery. The soldier passed out, covered in confused bees, and fell back onto another beehive. It tumbled to the floor and spewed more bees. These ones were angrier.
In a clear demonstration of bee avoidance, Jay circled behind Damien and sprinted for the door at the end of the terrace. No fewer than five soldiers followed. Damien knew the remainder would be gunning for the elevators in this tower to cut them off.
Jay had reached the door at the end, his lockpicks already in the lock.
‘Got it!’ Jay said just as Damien arrived.
An arrow shot past Damien’s ear. It punched through Jay’s shoulder as he opened the door. Damien rushed toward him, helping him through as he lost his footing. He almost deafened Damien as they stepped into a day spa.
‘What the fuck!’ Jay yelled. ‘Who shoots someone with a fucking arrow?!’
Blood dripped over the marble floor. Damien could see the arrow was a narrow one, fortunately for Jay it was designed more to penetrate armor than cut as many arteries as possible. Jay hadn’t recognized his good fortune quite yet; he was now on both knees as he looked down at the arrowhead in disbelief.
Damien moved back to the door, closed and locked it again.
‘You wouldn’t by any chance have a door stopper in your pocket?’ Damien said, running past him to a circular wooden and marble table.
‘Yeah, everywhere I go,’ Jay spat.
‘Didn’t think so.’
Damien dragged the heavy table across a soft rug, screeching along the marble floor, and shoved it firmly against the door. He was thankful it opened inward. What he wasn’t thankful for was the tuxedo not allowing them to carry a tourniquet.
Jay was on his feet again, wincing.
‘Can you move?’ Damien said, starting for the entrance to the day spa.
‘If I want to stay alive I probably should, so yeah,’ Jay said from behind him.
Good, Damien thought. There really was only one solution to this, and that was to get out of this building. Secondary to that was tending to Jay’s wound. Although Jay would argue that secondary was getting hold of their pistols and, more importantly, the rest of their kit. They’d left that, of course, in another hotel. By now Jensen had probably sold it all.
Chapter 18
Sophia pulled the black combat pants over her jeans, part of the uniform they’d stripped from the bound soldiers in the SUV. She slipped the kneepads over them.
‘I’m guessing you had no clue I was in the back of that SUV,’ Nasira said.
Sophia could see Nasira relacing the paracord on her sneakers in the adjacent toilet cubicle.
‘I don’t have X-ray vision so no,’ Sophia said. ‘How did you end up in there?’
‘Long story,’ Nasira said. ‘Short version is I got lifted in Peru by Blue Berets and brought back here. They stowed me in that SUV.’ She paused. ‘I’m guessing you were the crazy bitch who crashed into us around that roundabout.’
‘It was a traffic circle,’ Sophia said. ‘And maybe.’
‘Yeah, I lost my handcuff key when you did that, thanks,’ Nasira said. ‘Next thing I know the SUV pulls up in Times Square and the masked boys pile out.’
‘They were after me,’ Sophia said. ‘Or at least making sure I didn’t get in their way.’
Nasira tapped a Glock under the cubicle wall for Sophia to see. ‘Cops find me a minute later.’
‘Donated their weapons?’ Sophia said.
Nasira laughed. ‘That’s all they donated,’ she said. ‘Can’t shoot accurately with this, trigger pressure too heavy. Don’t know how those cops shoot straight.’
‘They don’t,’ Aviary said.
‘Great,’ Nasira said. ‘Tried to take their mags but all they had in their pouches were cigarettes. Better than nothing I guess.’
Sophia reached for the tac vest and zipped it over her T-shirt. Public bathrooms were difficult to find in New York so Aviary had taken them to the NYU Midtown Campus, two blocks from Times Square.
The campus was mostly abandoned by now so they didn’t have to worry about blending in. As for the soldiers, they’d left them bound in the SUV. She knew they’d eventually escape, but she’d rather that than have to kill them.
‘Half of New York City has already evacuated,’ Aviary said from her cubicle.
‘Evacuated what?’ Nasira said.
Sophia heard her light a cigarette.
‘Hurricane,’ Aviary said. ‘Big one. Coming right for us.’
‘Hurricane?’ Nasira said. ‘Are you shitting me?’
‘Just looking at the news feeds now,’ Aviary said.
‘Fifth Column behind the evac?’ Nasira said.
‘Hard not to be,’ Sophia said. ‘Operatives crawling the island.’
Aviary tapped her phone against the cubicle door. ‘We can track them now!’
‘Good for you, kid. So why did Blue Berets steal something from operatives?’ Nasira said. ‘That doesn’t even make sense—they’re all Fifth Column. Someone gone rogue? Insane, maybe?’
‘We don’t even know if they were Blue Berets,’ Sophia said. ‘But there were a lot of operatives on the map. Nine.’
She heard Nasira whistle as she holstered her own Glock on her belt and finished lacing her sneakers. They were black and she preferred them over the soldiers’ combat boots. She stepped from the cubicle with her stolen M4 carbine to find Nasira already waiting. In addition to Sophia’s and Nasira’s Glock 17 pistols, they each had an M4 now.
Nasira was checking over hers. ‘Not bad,’ she said, cigarette in hand.
The M4 was modified to some degree, resembling an M4A1 SOPMOD—Special Operations Peculiar Modification.
‘What are you thinking?’ Sophia said.
‘From the chatter in the SUV, I’m guessing Blue Berets,’ Nasira said. She expelled a cloud of smoke toward the ceiling. ‘Special forces at least.’
‘Normally issued MP5s though,’ Sophia said.<
br />
‘Yeah, they’re accurate as fuck but they have the stopping power of a water pistol,’ Nasira said. ‘Pistol rounds though, what do you expect?’
Sophia knew that in an urban environment like this, it was likely they would be issued something with a bit more range. ‘They had the Magpul PDRs at the OpCenter in Denver,’ she reminded her.
The futuristic looking Magpul PDR was an ultra-compact bullpup-style carbine that Sophia thought had never made it into production. Perhaps the Fifth Column took over manufacture and produced it internally.
‘Then I have no fucking idea,’ Nasira said. ‘But I’m glad we have a few.’
Sophia inspected the modified Colt M4A1 in her hands. Many of the modifications operatives like her had made to the M4 had soon filtered down to the Special Forces inside the Fifth Column. It came as no surprise to her that these carbines they’d stolen from the Blue Berets were almost identically modified to her own back in Project GATE.
They weren’t the Lewis Machine & Tool M4A1 carbines specifically designed for Project GATE’s operatives; those were both expensive and staggering in their attention to detail. But the Colt M4A1 was versatile and reliable, and she was happy to have it.
This M4 had a flat top receiver, no carry handle. Replacing the plastic hand guard, an aluminum M1913 rail for attaching optics and low profile iron sights. It wasn’t her preferred rail but it would do the job. The fixed stock had been replaced with a collapsible stock. While the fixed stock was stronger and simpler, it was never the right length for close quarters or varying loadouts. Again, not her favorite, but it had a rubber buttpad that made it stable and comfortable to shoot.
The optics were x1, which did well up to four hundred meters. Sophia avoided magnified optics unless she needed to engage at long distance, and a carbine really wasn’t suited for that anyway. This carbine had an EOTech holographic diffraction sight. They were quite popular but the circle with the hash marks around the dot cluttered the sight and annoyed her.
Like all carbines bearing optics, this carbine had back-up iron sights installed. Military issue iron sights were flimsy, but these were spring-loaded and out of the way. Only the front sight remained visible through the sight.
The pistol grip was modified, but once again not what she would’ve chosen. This grip was ergonomic but it also had a thumb rest that would get in the way when shooting ambidextrously. It also lacked an ambidextrous magazine release and safety, which she needed to remember when she started transferring from her strong to her support hand.
She was pleased to spot a tac-latch though, which let her slap the charging handle to clear any malfunctions. It seemed to have become standard among Blue Berets.
A small tac light was attached to the bottom of the rail. There was also a visible light illuminator attached to the top of the rail, connected to the sight.
The tip of the barrel was fitted with her favorite flash suppressor and compensator, the Vortex by Smith Enterprises, which almost completely eliminated any flame or spark, keeping her position concealed while firing.
While she appreciated some changes, she didn’t appreciate all of them. For one, she would’ve replaced the vertical fore grip with an angled one that allowed her to grasp the barrel with her palm facing inwards, like she would hold a sword. The fore grip on this carbine encouraged poor body position and fatigue, a common mistake among special operations units. She planned to just ignore it and grasp the barrel how she wanted. It gave her better control and let her move naturally.
Nasira was doing it right now, aiming through her cubicle to check the holographic sight. She gripped the carbine near the very end of the barrel; fingers underneath and thumb over top.
Nasira seemed satisfied and let it hang from its sling. ‘Why you going after that one operative, anyways?’
‘The ruck,’ Sophia said. ‘Whatever is in that, they really want it.’
‘And now they have it. You think it was explosives for some other detonation?’ Nasira said.
Sophia pressed her lips together and realized how thirsty she was. She shrugged, leaned over a basin and drank from the faucet. She had a full water bottle in her ruck but she wanted to save it.
‘Hey guys, do you tuck your pants into your boots?’ Aviary called out.
‘Don’t worry about it,’ Sophia called out, wiping water from her chin. She caught sight of her menacing face paint in the mirror. ‘I should probably wash this off.’
‘How’s your concussion?’ Nasira said. ‘Chimera vector fixing it up?’
‘I feel better,’ Sophia said.
‘Sure you’re telling me everything?’ Nasira said.
Sophia wiped water from her lips. ‘I just did.’
‘You risked your life and ripped up half of Broadway just to stop people who might be Blue Berets from snatching a ruck that might have something dangerous inside while nine operatives circle like sharks,’ Nasira said. ‘Seems a little overkill.’
‘You might’ve missed it but they just blew up half of the upper west side. The morning news will be calling it the next 9/11,’ Sophia said. ‘I don’t know what’s in that ruck but it might be pretty damn important.’
Nasira still hadn’t blinked. ‘You’re a bad liar.’
‘I’m not lying,’ Sophia said. ‘Whatever it is, it’s dangerous.’
Nasira shook her head just slightly enough to notice. ‘You wanted the operative,’ she said. ‘You wanted to deprogram the operative, didn’t you?’
‘Look, if the opportunity arose,’ Sophia said. ‘We could find out what’s going on.’
Nasira raised an eyebrow. ‘’Cause those soldiers back there were real talkers, weren’t they?’
‘They don’t know anything,’ Sophia said.
‘Which is intentional,’ Nasira said. ‘So they can’t be interrogated by operatives—sorry, terrorists—like us.’
‘Aviary, you have the location?’ Sophia asked, still staring at Nasira.
‘Yeah, the Waldorf, if you can believe it,’ Aviary called out from her cubicle. ‘Maybe because it’s one of the first evacuated buildings so they think no one will bother checking … Sorry. Just … having some zipper difficulties. Hold up.’
‘It’s not about the ruck, is it?’ Nasira said. ‘This is an obsession. I don’t think you even know why you do it anymore.’
‘Because we need them,’ Sophia said.
‘You keep telling yourself that. Why?’ Nasira said. ‘To do what?’
‘To do anything,’ Sophia said. ‘Don’t you get it? We’re almost extinct.’
‘What happens when you have enough operatives?’ Nasira said. ‘Do you even know how many is enough? You even know what comes after it?’
‘No,’ Sophia said. ‘But I’ll know when I get there.’
Chapter 19
Damien helped Jay through the corridor, passing several suites and a library. They reached a sign that indicated elevators around the next corner. He just hoped the soldiers hadn’t beaten them to it. He heard voices as they approached. He held Jay back. Jay obviously hadn’t heard because he was annoyed by the sudden halt. Damien listened closer and realized there was some kind of authority—possibly police—steering guests and staff down to the lobby.
‘It’s an evacuation,’ Damien said quietly.
‘For what?’ Jay grunted.
Damien shook his head: he didn’t know. But the officers would be covering the elevator and stairs.
‘We have to go through them,’ Jay said.
‘Or with them,’ Damien said. ‘But first—’
Damien pulled Jay back so they wouldn’t risk being heard. Then decided to go even farther back given what he had in mind.
‘We have to take the arrow out.’ Damien pulled the tablecloth from a nearby display table.
Jay knew what was coming and unbuttoned his rented tuxedo. ‘Probably can’t return these now anyway,’ he said.
Damien looked up to see blood staining one entire side of Jay’s shirt. He held
the back of the arrow firmly and snapped it as precisely as he could. It came away mostly clean. He picked off the frayed edges.
‘When you’re ready,’ Damien said.
Jay held the arrow just under the iron arrowhead. ‘Fuck you, arrow,’ he muttered. ‘Why can’t Kevlar stop arrows?’
Damien didn’t bother answering—Jay knew the answer. Their covert vests were designed for small caliber rounds, not bladed weapons. That would require a completely different type of armor, one that wouldn’t fit under a tuxedo.
Jay grunted and pulled the arrow forward through his shoulder. Damien could see him gritting his teeth, doing his best to not scream. He tossed the shaft across the hall in disgust. Damien helped Jay take his tuxedo jacket off and then wrapped the tablecloth under his arm and over his shoulder, pulling and tying it as firmly as possible. He took his own belt off and threaded it over the tablecloth, then picked up Jay’s discarded arrow and used the arrow point to create a new notch in the belt. He fastened the belt tightly over the tablecloth, using the fresh notch. That would have to do for now.
Jay pulled on his jacket and buttoned it over the belt. Damien checked him over. No sign of blood or injury, except perhaps for the tiny hole in the front and back of his tuxedo, revealing a tiny dot of tablecloth underneath. The belt bulged slightly across Jay’s shoulder.
‘That will have to do,’ Damien said.
Jay didn’t hesitate; he walked around the corner and was already calling out to the officers to ask what was going on. When Damien rounded the corner after him he realized why Jay had stopped speaking. They weren’t officers. Or perhaps they were, but they were dressed in black fatigues and carrying M4 carbines.
They appeared to be military or police paramilitary, except they wore black ballistic masks for protection. The masks covered their entire face, including the scalp and the back of their heads. The mask had only two circles for eyes and one thin vertical strip for speaking. Damien found this especially creepy.
‘We swept this level, where were you two?’ one soldier said.
The Phoenix Variant: The Fifth Column 3 Page 13
