by Rogers, Matt
25
Rollins couldn’t believe his eyes.
The nearest man’s head whipped sideways and blood sprayed everywhere, accompanied a moment later by the crack of a gunshot. Rollins recognised the man had been shot, but couldn’t discern where the bullet had come from.
He glanced down at the bomblet.
0:33.
0:32.
0:31.
A newcomer materialised from the gloom of the jungle, racing in a flat-out sprint toward the five remaining mercenaries. Rollins could barely see straight, which made the following incident hard to grapple with.
Even if he’d been at full health, he might not have understood what he was seeing.
The man — an enormous slab of muscle and athleticism — fired two more shots from his weapon, dropping another pair of mercenaries. He closed the distance between himself and the other three and let loose with a harrowing barrage of close-range strikes.
Rollins watched the guy thunder a fist into one man’s stomach, crumpling him on the spot. He turned and smashed an elbow into the unprotected face of the second man, taking him off his feet with the force of a freight train. Then he scythed a front kick into the chest of the third guy, knocking him off-balance, and followed up with a devastating headbutt to the bridge of his nose.
All three men wilted in the face of the newcomer. They hit the dirt simultaneously, a mass of broken bones and torn muscles. For good measure the new arrival kicked the first guy in the jaw on the way down, knocking him out cold.
The newcomer turned, and spotted Rollins in the middle of the jungle.
He closed the distance, surging into range like a bat out of hell.
Jason King.
Rollins couldn’t form a coherent sentence. He babbled once, but his mouth had filled with blood. King wasted no time, looping an arm underneath Rollins’ armpit and heaving him to his feet.
‘Knew you’d need me, buddy,’ King growled. ‘I made it halfway to Huancayo and turned back. Disobeyed direct orders, too.’
Rollins wasn’t listening to a word of it. Panic creased across his face.
‘Bomb,’ he gasped, barely able to spit out the syllable.
Both King and Rollins glanced down at the capsule.
0:15.
0:14.
0:13.
‘Fuck!’ King roared.
He burst into motion. Rollins made to take a step forward but he suddenly found himself wrenched off the ground, falling into a fireman’s carry across King’s shoulders. As soon as his feet left the rainforest floor, he understood the situation was out of his control.
Nothing he could do would affect the outcome.
Not at this late hour.
He closed his eyes, and waited for the end.
He had the vague sense of covering unbelievable ground, and at one point he inched one eyelid open to see King sprinting through the jungle like his life depended on it — which it did. The man utilised every ounce of his six-foot-three frame to bound through the undergrowth, throwing caution to the wind, risking serious injury in the process.
They must have covered at least a hundred and fifty feet before the bomb went off.
It sent them both sprawling into the undergrowth, more from the fright of the detonation than the actual shockwave. Rollins tumbled head over heels through the ferns, barely holding onto consciousness, bombarded by a disgusting torrent of noise. Explosives roared all around them.
This must be what the end of the world sounds like.
And feels like.
There was no light to blind him, just a violent gut-punching sensation as the shockwave ripped through them. He wondered if the blast had destroyed his internal organs, but he figured he wouldn’t be around to generate those thoughts if it had. He lay still in the undergrowth, spread-eagled over a bed of vegetation, and waited for the madness to end.
With a resounding groan, two nearby tree trunks fell, their roots tearing out of the displaced earth. They thumped to the forest floor a few dozen feet away, vibrating the ground itself. Rollins’ brain instructed him to flinch, but he couldn’t find the energy. If one of the trunks elected to fall on his prone form, there was nothing he could do to stop it.
Dirt showered over him, kicked up in geysers by the force of the blast. When the initial pandemonium faded, Rollins listened out for the sound of wildlife screeching and panicking and fleeing in all directions, but he heard nothing.
The explosion had ruined his hearing.
For a long time he lay there, staring up at the canopy of leaves through a mask of dirt, blood, sweat, and involuntary tears. His eyes were watering from the kinetic energy behind the impact. A vast chunk of the canopy had been torn away in the blast, and light spilled down onto Rollins, highlighting his gruesome injuries. He let out a breath that had been building in his lungs ever since he’d laid eyes on the digital display.
A simple, efficient timer system — it had almost destroyed him.
Almost.
With a final shred of motivation, he managed to turn his head to the side and study the crater left behind from the blast. Unease ran through him at the sight of the detonation site. It had gouged a chunk out of the rainforest itself, obliterating a swathe of trees in a wide circular arc. More flora had been shredded to pieces by the shockwave, and Rollins imagined what kind of damage the bomb would have wreaked on a busy city street in Huancayo.
It would have killed hundreds.
Frisson’s motivation for the crime had died with him, but there were all kinds of possibilities for a man like that. Perhaps he was a disgruntled soldier intent on targeting one of the government buildings in Huancayo with thoughts of revenge. Perhaps he simply wanted to kill as many people as he could, which would have destabilised the region and allowed a man with his abilities to swoop in and take over a vast section of the industry.
There were obscene profits to be made in tactical terrorism.
Whatever the case, he’d failed.
Rollins realised he would have been pummelled to death by the explosion if he’d been positioned thirty feet back in the direction they’d come from. King had moved fast, and saved their lives.
Rollins didn’t know where King was. He didn’t have the mental reserves to turn his head back in the other direction, which indicated what kind of condition he was in.
He closed his eyes, satisfied that the immediate danger had dissipated, and slipped into a murky darkness.
26
Rollins emerged from the gloom of unconsciousness more confused than he’d ever been.
He’d suffered concussions before. He’d been knocked out in training — never in the field, because losing consciousness in the middle of a fight resulted in death ten out of ten times in active combat. But nothing he’d ever experienced carried the hazy fog that fell over him as he crawled back to the surface this time.
He looked around, studying his surroundings. Humidity drenched the air, and there was little natural light. Rollins made out a row of makeshift hospital beds in the musty gloom, each positioned next to machines connected to intravenous drips. He glanced down at his own forearm and spotted a couple of needles inserted into his veins, covered with medical tape to ensure they didn’t slip out as he tossed and turned. The bed he lay on was coated in sweat — he shifted in the dampness and couldn’t mask a grimace. The conditions were abhorrent, and he was uncomfortable as all hell…
…but he was alive.
He craned his neck and spotted Jason King in the adjacent bed, sitting upright and tapping away at a smartphone. The man was seemingly unhurt — he’d taken up position on the hospital bed merely to keep an eye on Rollins. When he noticed movement, King lifted his head and nodded once, a simple greeting.
‘You’re awake,’ he noted.
Rollins coughed. He reached for the bedside table and drained half a glass of water, soothing his cracked throat. ‘Think I’d rather be unconscious.’
‘You’ll be in pain for a long time,’ King said
. ‘Trust me.’
‘You ever been through something like this before?’
King smiled wryly, as if it didn’t require a response. ‘You have no idea.’
‘How badly am I hurt?’
‘A few broken bones. Overall wear and tear. Nothing that’ll put you out permanently. If I had to guess, I’d say you could be back at work in a month.’
Rollins made to retort, but he bit his tongue. He would save those thoughts for later.
‘You came back,’ he said.
‘I did.’
‘Any particular reason?’
‘I was right the first time. I never should have talked to you.’
‘Talked to me?’
‘Our conversation. In the buggy. I got to know you. Lars specifically told me not to.’
‘Because he wants to keep us separate?’
King nodded. ‘He doesn’t want us forming bonds. Bonds cause people to do stupid things, like disobey direct orders. This is black operations — you need to look at everything like a sociopath.’
‘So you felt responsible for me? That’s why you came back?’
King shrugged. ‘I never planned to interfere. But I couldn’t drop you off and forget all about you. I wanted to know what happened.’
‘You should have come with me from the jump. Things would have unfolded a lot smoother.’
‘You sure?’
‘Positive.’
King shrugged. ‘These things happen. Sometimes operations would go better with two people. But our existence — not to mention all our training — revolves around dealing with it solo.’
‘How far did you make it before you turned around?’
‘I refueled in this town, right here. Then I had a choice to make. Use the full tank to go back and check on you. Or carry on to the nearest airfield and get extracted.’
‘What were your orders?’
‘To get extracted.’
‘Thank you,’ Rollins said.
‘Don’t worry about it.’
‘No. I mean it. Thank you. I’d be dead otherwise.’
‘That’s what we do.’
‘That’s not what we do. We work alone. You ignored direct orders to work alone. You think that’ll come back to bite you?’
‘If it does, I’ll deal with it.’
‘You don’t sound too worried.’
‘I’m their best operative,’ King said.
‘You can’t know that for sure.’
‘They’ve explicitly told me several times.’
‘Oh.’
‘But that doesn’t mean shit in this business,’ King said. ‘I could be the best operative in the history of the U.S. military. Doesn’t change the fact that if I was two seconds slower back there in the jungle, I wouldn’t be any kind of operative. I’d be in the ground.’
‘Maybe that’s why you’re the best,’ Rollins muttered. ‘Because you somehow always manage to make it out alive. Your reflexes make you the best.’
‘Don’t overlook yourself, kid. You dealt with a lot of shit before I even showed up. More than me, in fact.’
‘What happens now?’ Rollins croaked. ‘I mean, regarding what we left behind?’
King shrugged. ‘We’re the muscle. That’s not our job. Black Force has components, none of which concern us. We go in and break things. We don’t pick up the pieces afterwards.’
‘And what happens to us?’
King flashed a glance at his smartphone. ‘We’ll be extracted soon. Couple of days, maximum. There’s a few factors to deal with — namely the mercenaries Bradley Frisson had on the payroll. We don’t know how motivated they are, but if I had to guess, they’ll vanish into the underworld. They were only after you because of the bomb — I’m guessing that amount of explosives held some value. Now that there’s no money in pursuing us, I’m sure they’ll move straight to the next job. Slimy bastards.’
‘How many do you think he was employing?’
King shook his head. ‘He was a crazy bastard, and the only reason he made it so far was because no-one in our government had ever heard his name. As far as we know, he was a nobody up until a month ago. Then he started amassing funds, manipulating people, employing soldiers of fortune, directing his forces, approaching various tribes… either he was an expert at keeping his past hidden, or he really was a nobody who decided to try and make something of himself.’
‘Strange way to make something of yourself.’
‘You’ll see it soon enough. Take enough operations and you get a glimpse at the other side of the coin. We’re the best of the best at what we do, and the people we’re up against are the best at what they do. They’ve got talents just the same as us, but they use them for personal gain. If we hadn’t been there, imagine what Frisson could have done in a year. You’ll see in time…’
‘You know,’ Rollins said, realising what he’d been meaning to say all along, ‘I don’t think I will.’
King stared. ‘What?’
‘I’m done.’
27
King’s reaction took Rollins by surprise.
He’d been expecting anger, disbelief, fury at the thought of even considering the possibility of leaving the life of a government operative behind.
Instead, King simply shrugged.
Nonchalant.
Understanding.
‘Your call,’ he said.
‘You don’t seem to mind,’ Rollins said, thrown off by the strange turn in conversation. He’d been preparing his defences for an all-out verbal assault.
‘It’s not up to me.’
‘You think Black Force will mind?’
‘I’m sure they won’t be happy. But I’m not Black Force. I just work for them.’
‘I—’
King held up a hand, freezing Rollins in his tracks. ‘Sam. You’re going to start defending yourself, aren’t you?’
‘Yeah.’
‘I don’t need to hear it.’
‘But don’t you want to know why—?’
‘I know why. You need to be unnaturally motivated to do this job. The second that goes…’
‘I just can’t do this for the rest of my life. It’ll break me mentally if I keep coming so close to death.’
‘Then you should get out.’
‘Is that an official order?’
‘No. But the organisation isn’t in the best place at the moment. We lost a couple of good operatives. So they need me. I can put in a good word for you. Make sure they leave you alone for the rest of your life. And if they refuse that… then I’ll go on strike. And they can’t afford to lose me for a second. So they’ll cave.’
Rollins hesitated. ‘You’d do that for me?’
‘Of course.’
‘We hardly know each other.’
‘You can learn enough about a man in a minute of combat. You’re a good man. And you don’t need to do this forever.’
Rollins paused, aching all over. ‘What about you?’
‘What about me?’
‘Are you going to do it forever?’
‘You don’t need to worry about me.’
‘Answer me.’
King locked eyes with him. ‘Probably. It’s in my blood.’
‘And if it becomes too much?’
‘Then I’ll step away.’
‘You think that’ll ever happen?’
‘Maybe. Maybe one day when I get too old and my reflexes start to fade. Or I’ll end up dead before then, and I won’t need to worry about any of that.’
‘Promise me you’ll step away,’ Rollins said. ‘If you feel it’s necessary.’
‘I only ever do what I want to do,’ King said. ‘I don’t let anyone influence me. Like I said, you don’t need to worry about me. I’ll call my own shots.’
Rollins squirmed in the hospital bed, inching his way up to a seated position. He grimaced as he eyed the bandages all over his body, and took a deep breath to compose himself before he continued. ‘So… I guess I’ll need to head stat
eside with you and take care of my affairs.’
‘You got family?’ King said.
Rollins paused. ‘None that I have any interest in seeing.’
‘Come from a bad home?’
‘Don’t we all?’
‘Some do. Some don’t.’
‘Where’d you come from?’
‘A good home,’ King said.
Rollins managed a wry smile. ‘Then you really are mad. And you really will be doing this forever.’
‘Probably,’ King admitted. ‘But if you don’t need to visit family or friends, then you should stay right here. Bury your head in the sand for a while. You don’t want to get caught up in the bureaucracy.’
Rollins stewed over the words for a while, assessing their weight, considering the direction his life would take if he followed through with them.
‘You sure?’ he said.
‘I can see it in your eyes. You don’t want to go back.’
‘I don’t,’ Rollins admitted.
‘So stay. Run around South America for as long as you need. Go to Europe. Whatever. You’re a free man. I’ll make sure of it.’
‘You really think you have that kind of influence?’
‘I know I do,’ King said with the utmost sincerity.
‘I need you to promise me. Because I don’t want Black Force coming for my head.’
‘They won’t. You have my word.’
‘I didn’t think it would be this easy.’
‘I knew,’ King said. ‘Back when we first met. That’s why I came back in the first place. I could tell your heart wasn’t in it. The fact that you even had to consider whether you would go back said it all. I knew I had to pull you out of this game and set you free.’
‘You know what it was?’ Rollins said, opting to be truthful.
He trusted King.
‘The prison?’ King said.
Rollins nodded. ‘How’d you know?’
‘I think I’d feel the same.’
‘If Black Force didn’t need me for the mission, they never would have broken me out. I would have been left to rot. That messes with your head.’
‘It’s the risk we accept when we sign up.’
