“Doctor Takada?” he asked.
“Yes, what is it?” the doctor answered without looking up from a piece of equipment he was examining.
“Doctor, I need you to come with me, please.” John spoke as if he were coordinating the events, trying to get Takada to blindly obey.
“What for?” Takada asked. He finally looked up and paused for a moment at the size of John.
“I just need to go over the slide deck for your presentation today. If you please,” John said, beginning to walk toward the entrance to the stage.
It worked. Takada smiled, adjusted something on his equipment, and followed him. Now that the doctor was compliant, John needed to get him out through another exit, before anyone spotted them. He angled slightly, moving toward the backstage area.
“Actually, it’s this way, sorry,” John said as he redirected the doctor.
Takada followed the course change but seemed confused.
“What’s out there? I thought my equipment was already set up.” He said.
Without breaking his stride, John looked back and gave the doctor a nod and a smile. He led the unsuspecting man out the door, into another hall, this one narrow and empty. John dropped the ruse once they were alone.
“Dr. Takada, I don’t want to alarm you, but I need to get you out of here for your safety.”
Takada’s expression switched from genuine confusion to a sense of rising panic. “Who are you? What’s all this about?” His voice cracked and wavered.
“I promise, I will explain on the way, but we have to move now, please,” John said.
“I’m not going anywhere. I have a presentation to give.” Dr. Takada backed away from John, back toward the hall where he had been scheduled to talk.
John didn’t want to say too much, but he couldn’t afford to let the doctor get away from him now. “Doctor, I believe you’ve been targeted by a terrorist group. I think they plan on kidnapping you.”
“That’s preposterous! This doesn’t make any sense. For all I know you’re a kidnapper.” Dr. Takada was beginning to put more distance between himself and John as he grew more concerned. “Just who are you anyway?”
“My name is John Stone. I’m here to help you. I have reason to believe that the Four Serpents want you. It’s your kinetic weapons research. I think they are planning to use your work to launch another attack?”
The color drained from Takada’s face. His eyes were saucers as the fear and confusion washed over his features.
“Why would they kidnap me for that? They wouldn’t even have access to the type of equipment needed to manufacture or operate something like that,” Takada said, almost to himself.
“With all due respect, doctor, underestimating the enemy, thinking they are low tech and living in caves, is a tremendous mistake. The moment you don’t respect their full capability is the moment you don’t come home,” John said.
John reached a hand to grasp the doctor’s arm gently, to guide him out of the building through a back exit. The doctor pulled away.
“Mr. Stone, let go of me. I have no desire to go anywhere with you. As far as I know, it is you that I should be afraid of.” Dr. Takada spun on his heel and darted quickly for the door to get back to his presentation.
John let out an exasperated sigh. The doctor’s suspicion of John only complicated the mission. He followed Takada back through the door trying to reason with him, but he was fully prepared to escalate the plan, and hoist the doctor up onto his shoulder, if needed.
The two stepped back into the conference preparation room, and John weighed the risks of taking the doctor against his will. How much security was here with them? How could he get out of the convention center with a possibly resisting doctor?
All of those questions faded from his mind when he spotted two men standing and looking over the area from the door at the far end. John made eye contact with one as they froze in their tracks, stared in shocked surprise.
The assassin from the hospital recognized John in the same instant. With no hesitation, the man reached into his jacket and pulled out a machine pistol, pointing it toward John and Dr. Takada.
CHAPTER
17
Kaliq squeezed the trigger of his weapon, spitting a steady stream of 9mm Makarov slugs at John, and chaos erupted. John wrapped an arm around the doctor and drove himself toward the side door, leading back to the main stage. The assassin stopped firing when John got close to the doctor, and he and the other man charged toward the American.
John barreled through the door, which gave way under his considerable size. He pulled Dr. Takada out onto the stage, planning to run across to find another door. Once he stepped past the curtains, John saw the people in the room panicked and ducking down, or running for the nearest exits. All except four men, also armed with the Skorpion machine pistols.
The men saw John appear on the stage with Dr. Takada and rushed forward. None of them fired, not wanting to risk hitting the doctor with their shots, instead choosing to close the distance. The stage would be wide open shooting gallery if John ran across.
He saw a big black hard container on wheels, the type used to carry lighting and sound equipment for events like this. John knocked large case over onto its wheels, ready to roll it out into the open across the stage.
“Stay close, Doc,” John said.
He pulled Takada close and darted behind the case. It wasn’t big enough cover John entirely, but any cover the case could provide would be better than nothing at this point.
The doctor let out a shrill shout in protest, not wanting to follow. John grabbed him around the waist with one arm and shoved the case out across the stage. The four men made their way closer, still not wanting to fire at John and Takada.
John had the case halfway across the stage, holding the still struggling doctor when the assassin made his way through the rear entrance with his partner. John angled the case to block an assault from both directions and pulled it while he backed his way across the stage. Two of the four men split away to flank John.
“We’re going to have to make a break for that door, Doc,” John said, nodding his head toward the exit behind them.
Takada squirmed to get out of John’s grip, his eyes wide in fear. It was time to move.
“Now,” John said.
He spun for the door, abandoning the cover. He guided the doctor firmly in front of him with his hand. Takada tripped and sprawled onto the stage.
Dammit John thought. He reached down to scoop the man up on the run, but Takada rolled to his back and scrambled away from John. He got to his feet and ran, with his hands up, toward the assassin who had just stepped out onto the stage in pursuit.
Time slowed as John watched the doctor run willingly to the terrorists. He stomach dropped when he saw the assassin wave the doctor behind him, toward the other man. Dr. Takada looked back at John, with a look of relief on his face.
The realization hit John far too late. Takada was working with the Four Serpents.
The assassin’s partner escorted Takada off the stage, leaving five armed men against John. With the doctor out of their line of fire, all of their guns opened up. John rushed and dove off the stage, dropping out sight. He hit the floor hard on his side, fighting to keep the breath in his lungs.
John only had one option for escape, and his enemy also knew he was going for it. He had to escape fast before the five gunmen overran him. Their bullets continued in controlled bursts, chewing up the edge of the short stage and punching holes into the door through which he needed to escape.
On this side of the stage, all he had within reach were a few of the stackable chairs left behind the curtain. Maybe the curtain could be useful for concealment, if he could detach it from the high steel rigging posts around the stage. Could he bring down the steel rigging to cover his escape?
John crawled along the ground on his elbows, staying low until he reached one of the steel posts. He gave it a full force stomp with one boot. Steel supports s
hook and rang out from the impact, sending a violent tremor across the stage. The firing stopped for a moment when the assailants felt the floor move.
Despite his size and the force of his kick, the post did little more than vibrate and ring. He wouldn’t be able to bring it down, much less damage it. The covering fire resumed, inching closer. John’s only exit was directly in the line of fire.
“It’s gut check time,” John said to himself through clenched teeth.
Springing into action, he charged away from the stage, heading for the back of the room, instead of the door closest to him. The serpents adjusted their aim, moving to track him. Perfect.
They had done exactly what he hoped for. Before John cleared the curtain, he grabbed a handful of the thick black fabric and whipped it forward, to conceal his next move. Bullets tore through the heavy curtains. A hot flash of pain ripped across John’s shoulder as one of the rounds bit into his flesh.
John used the distraction to double back. He grabbed the metal stacking chair, and hurled it at the assassin on the stage, aiming for his chest. The gunman whirled deftly out of the way, and John barreled out the exit door. Bullets ripped through the walls around him, and he dove to the ground once he was in the hallway.
John rolled until he was clear and stood up to escape.
The doctor. If I can cut off his escape, I might be able to grab him and get out, John thought. With what, though? He was outmanned, unarmed, and wounded. There may be more serpents waiting to help Takada get out. If that were the case, John would be running right into a firing squad.
He shouldered his way through another set of doors. Automatic weapons exploded to life behind him, and a few rounds whizzed past his head.
Two armed security personnel stepped into John’s path, about 10 meters ahead of him.
“Five men with automatic weapons!” John yelled at the guards. “Get down!”
The guards would not be prepared to take on the terrorists, and he wanted to warn them before they stepped right into a meat grinder. One of the men took a knee, with his pistol aimed at the door, toward the sounds of gunfire, and the other used the corner for cover. Perhaps they didn’t understand what John was saying in English. These two were either very brave or very foolish.
Two serpents came through the door first, weapons up. The guards fired, wounding one. He fell back through the door, as the other returned fire in the guards’ direction. The two men did their best to hold their ground, but when the other men came through, they were overwhelmed by the sheer volume of fire.
A burst of automatic fire stitched through the kneeling guard’s chest, and he sagged to the floor. Before he completely collapsed, John ran over and scooped him into one arm, pulling him back around the corner, behind the second guard. John grabbed the Beretta 92S from the wounded man’s hand and a spare magazine from his belt.
John stood and leaned around the corner, over the other guard, and fired at the terrorists. They were spread out now, and unable to pursue John. Voices approached from behind, and John turned to see more security guards coming, responding to the firefight. Three men arrived and looked at their man returning fire, then at the one that had been severely injured.
“I’ll get him clear. You help your friend hold them back!” John yelled over the gunfire. He grasped the man by his collar and dragged him away from the fight. After pulling the injured guard down the hall, he reached a man directing the people out to safety. John knelt and applied pressure to the wounds on the man’s chest as he called for a medic.
The man directing people ran over and crouched down to help however he could. The man looked around and said something quickly in French, before bolting through a door not too far away.
John kept his head on a swivel, looking for any other terrorists that might be around while keeping constant pressure on the man’s wounds. The security guard’s breathing was fast and shallow. John felt his heartbeat speeding up, a result of his blood loss.
John caught a glimpse of Dr. Takada moving through the crowds of people fleeing. The terrorist with him kept the weapon tucked into his suit jacket, out of sight, as they pretended to flee using the mass of people to cover their escape. John fought his instinct to race after them.
The man he was helping had little chance of surviving as it was, but leaving him on the floor would all but guarantee his fate. He bit down, tightening his jaw, and focused on every detail he could about the two fleeing men.
The firefight died down, leaving John to wonder if the security guards had stopped any of the terrorists, or if the serpents had overpowered them. He bristled as he prepared to face those men again. At that moment, the door near him opened and the man that left him seconds ago emerged with a large medical kit, yelling something into his radio.
The man slid to a stop near John and threw the case open. He put the radio down and ripped out some gauze pads from the trauma kit. Another man came running in from another direction, and John nearly stood to face a new threat. He stopped once he realized it was a paramedic, coming to help the wounded man. John was little help for the man, now that trained medics had arrived.
“I have to go,” he said, knowing they didn’t understand.
John stood and headed for the crowd where he last saw Takada and the terrorist fleeing.
* * *
The aroma of fresh coffee wafted out into the hall as the receptionist, Diana, brought a tray into the conference room. Gavreau and his teammates had been working since late last night, once they uncovered Brassard’s betrayal and brought him in for questioning.
Gavreau sat at Lussier’s desk, watching over his shoulder as he ran the names from the data drive through their database to cross-reference them.
“How are you doing, Alban?” Gavreau asked.
Lussier leaned back and stretched his arms high, arching his back to work out a kink. Then he exhaled long and said, “It’s taking a bit of time, sir. Many of the names in Keppler’s ledger are not on our database, but just being in the ledger is enough to warrant a deeper search. I haven’t even gone through his notebook yet.”
“Can we confirm Brassard’s data in the ledger?” Gavreau asked.
Lussier paused. “I think so. We would need authorization to look into his financial records to be one hundred percent. But from what I see here, it is evident that Brassard has been receiving payments from someone that we can likely connect to the Four Serpents.”
Gavreau looked away from Lussier and his computer monitor, as if not seeing the data would somehow make it not true.
How could you do this, Chris?
Deschanel burst into the room, heading straight for Gavreau, “Sir, there are reports of shots fired at the Paris Convention Centere!”
Gavreau instinctively shot a glance at the interrogation room where Brassard sat handcuffed, wondering if this was somehow something they could have prevented if he had cooperated.
“Coordinate with the Police Nationale. Get the details, and tell them we’re on the way,” Gavreau said. He turned to the rest of the RAID team. “Gear up. Standard load out.”
* * *
John caught sight of Dr. Takada and his escort breaking away from the crowd to head out a side door. He was too far behind to catch up, pushing through the crowds. He cut across the panicked convention goers, and made his way to the door, barreling through without breaking stride, and saw a short hallway running left to right. Both sections turned 90 degrees and out of his sight.
Which way did you go? John thought.
He picked the right side randomly, knowing even a wrong decision made quickly would be better than indecision, and he had no time to spare. John bounded around the corner and ran down a long service corridor, heading straight for the large double door marked “Exit” at the far end.
There were doors along the hallway, on both sides, but John had to assume they were looking to escape quickly. He sprinted down the hall ignoring the other rooms and rammed the exit door open with his shoulder.
&n
bsp; John ran further into the underground parking structure. Parked cars had occupied many of the parking spots. John heard nothing. He cursed himself, thinking he was too late, ready to double back.
The throaty rumble of a car engine pulled him back. He started in that direction with no hesitation, as the roaring engine and squealing tires got closer.
A car whipped around a concrete pillar, and John found himself face to face with Dr. Takada. The doctor’s eyes grew wide, but the man driving the car accelerated, playing a game of chicken.
John brought the Beretta up in a one-handed grip and fired into the windshield. The driver swerved at the sight of the pistol, and John’s shots missed his head by inches. The car angled back toward him, but John stood his ground and fired twice more before his slide locked open on an empty chamber.
The driver lost control for a moment, the car shuddered and swerved. John saw, through the spiderweb crack on the windshield, that he had scored a hit. The driver pressed one hand to the side of his neck. He hoped that would be enough to force the car to stop, as he prepared to run over to the vehicle and retrieve the doctor. He had no such luck. The driver accelerated again and angled right toward him.
John leaped from the path of the car, nearly getting clipped as it passed. He rolled painfully into his wounded shoulder and came up into a crouch to see the car speed away. John grunted and ran toward the car, not wanting it to get away. He ejected the empty magazine from the Beretta and reloaded it on the run.
When he exited the parking area, he watched the sedan swerving around vehicles in a traffic jam, resulting from the chaos of the shooting in the convention center. John caught a break when the car slowed to a near stop, struggling to get clear of the jam.
He sprinted as fast as he could to close the distance, but they were just too far away for him to reach. He skidded to a stop, widened his stance and tried to slow his breathing.
His heart hammered in his chest, the rush of blood filling his ears and causing the sights of the pistol to pulse with each beat. John sighted the tires of the vehicle and waited until he had a clear shot that didn’t put any civilians at risk. The car was nearly away when his window of opportunity finally came.
Head of the Serpent (A John Stone Action Thriller Book 4) Page 8
