Traitor Games

by Sidney Bristol

“What the hell are we doing?” Irene asked.

  “Carol and Lillian are going to go be hackers.” Mitch nodded at Irene. “You and I are going to watch the building and coordinate with the others. If we can time the hack just before our guys hit, SICA won’t know what’s coming.”

  “Did everyone make it to their site? Are things going well?” Lillian was desperate for some news after a whole day away from Noah.

  Irene grimaced. “Well enough.”

  “Brandon has been calling Mol’s cell phone. We don’t know who has that or if they can trace his encrypted call,” Carol said.

  Shit.

  And Brandon was with Noah.

  If he fucked up, it could be Noah who died.

  Carol reached out and squeezed Lillian’s hand. “Don’t think about what could go wrong.”

  Easier said than done.

  …

  Lillian peered through the narrow eyeholes at the cavern-like room. It was crowded with people. Many more than she’d thought could possibly attend. And there were easily a dozen other people wearing the Guy Fawkes mask. Blending in wasn’t a problem.

  Carol kept a tight grip on her hand, guiding her around the outer perimeter of the room.

  “Do you see him?” she asked.

  “No.” Lillian glanced over her shoulder.

  Jonas had disappeared the moment they’d been admitted through the doors. What were the chances he was ratting them out?

  Her gut said he wouldn’t.

  He’d been far too invested while questioning her and drafting his story. She’d successfully sold him on that version of the truth.

  “Sit here.” Carol approached two computer terminals set up at the end of a row.

  “Can you see in that thing?” Lillian was more than a little jealous of Carol’s red and white fox mask that only covered half her face.

  “Enough, but I don’t have to see a lot to be okay. Mint?” Carol pulled a small tin out of her pocket and passed it to Lillian under the table. The loud music effectively prevented anyone from listening to them without being obvious.

  Lillian took both a mint and the tiny wireless earpiece concealed in the tin. She ran her fingers through her hair, covertly fitting the comm in her ear.

  With any luck, they’d be able to maintain constant communication with those outside. The comms were some crazy high-tech toys of Andy’s design that allowed for not just conversation, but tracking as well.

  All around them the crowd started to cheer.

  Lillian and Carol twisted around to get a view of a large digital countdown ticking off seconds over their head.

  “Five minutes,” Lillian whispered.

  “You guys hear that?” Carol asked.

  Lillian frowned. There wasn’t anything going through the earpiece.

  Carol stared at the monitor in front of her. “They must be blocking all wireless signals. I bet all these desktops are hardwired into a LAN line.”

  “You do this, I’ll run outside and tell the others.” She didn’t wait for Carol to agree to the plan. Lillian got up and strode toward the door. This was something she could do. They needed to coordinate timing with the hack and hits as much as possible. Maximum impact.

  A trio of guys leaned against a pub height table, their masks lifted toward the screen. On the table behind them was a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Lillian hadn’t smoked a day in her life, but she’d take any excuse she could get.

  She grabbed the pack and kept walking, straight for the door.

  The man standing watch let her out without a word.

  She strode to the corner at the intersection of two streets, tapping the pack of smokes in her palm. She kept the mask in place, though she had to look rather silly standing on an empty street by herself looking like Guy Fawkes.

  “Anyone hear me? Anyone at all?” she whispered.

  “I read you,” Mitch said.

  “Carol says they must be blocking wireless signals. We can’t hear you inside. The countdown to the hack has started. It had less than five minutes on it when I came outside.”

  “Good, because Jesse and Kevin are going in now. The others are gearing up.”

  “Okay. I’m going back inside. I’ll let you know when it’s over.” Lillian shoved the pack of cigarettes in her pocket and headed toward the door.

  “Tell Carol good luck,” Irene said.

  Lillian didn’t respond.

  She strode toward the door. The doorman didn’t even ask her a question this time which was good since Jonas had spoken for them. She kept her head down and rejoined Carol on the far side of the room.

  The clock had less than two minutes.

  “Jesse and Kevin are a go. The others are on deck,” she whispered.

  “Perfect. I’ve got myself set up. I’m going to target their security hub. Andy and I have avoided it because that would mean telling them we’re there. This?” Carol glanced up at the rest of the room. “This won’t be quiet.”

  “What do you think you’ll be able to do?”

  “With any luck? Take out their security network. From what I could see, all cameras are routed through the system to allow for a central hub to act as a backup watchdog. If we can take that out, the sites will just have the people on the ground. My hope is that they’ll be too busy to pay much attention. Even for a minute. That would be enough to throw them for a loop. Give us an edge.”

  The final minute went up on the wall.

  Every person in the building hunched over a keyboard.

  “Just tap the keys,” Carol whispered.

  Lillian put her hands on the keyboard.

  The hum of energy reverberating through the place had even her insides all twisted up and excited.

  Someone yelled from up over their heads.

  Three people in white rabbit masks stood at a railing, hands up.

  There wasn’t just one White Rabbit? Or was there?

  The room began to chant with them, counting down the final ten seconds.

  At the last moment, the rabbits sat, their heads hunched.

  The sound of hundreds of fingers pounding keyboards drowned out even the ambient noise. Lillian mashed keys, erased what she’d written, all while watching Carol’s hands fly. Lillian wasn’t really participating and it was still a rush.

  “We’re in,” Carol said. “Dubster has some sort of structure. Like they’ve planned this. I’m on my own.”

  “Is that a good thing?”

  “It’s fine. No one to get in my way.”

  “When did you get so sassy?”

  Carol merely grinned.

  Lillian stared around the room. Everyone else was tuned into their machine. No other soul was looking around like she was. She’d never been more out of place than she was now. Was this a skill she’d need to master? Was this the next step of her life?

  “In. They’re too overloaded to bother with me.” Carol’s fingers seemed to fly faster.

  It was working.

  For once they were winning at something in this war.

  A loud bang had Lillian flinching. She ducked her head.

  What the hell was going on?

  “Hands in the air,” a man yelled in English. His command was punctuated with a blast of gunfire.

  Her stomach knotted up.

  There was no reason for an American to be here…

  Unless they were with SICA.

  All at once the room erupted. No one froze, they moved. The people at the terminals to Lillian’s right sprinted around the table, running into Lillian. She fell out of the chair, hit the floor, and rolled.

  Carol’s chair was empty.

  Lillian had to get out of here.

  She crawled on her hands and knees up the center of the tables. The cords were so neatly bound that they provided her a clear path of escape. At least from one side of the building. Screams and gunfire reverberated off the brick and metal structure until all she could hear were cries for help.

  She reached the end of the tab
le and peered toward the open door.

  Two people darted out of it.

  A group of men in black had a whole group lined up against the wall.

  A man’s scream from above had her hunching.

  A white rabbit mask fell to the concrete, the white faux fur splattered with red.

  She was wanted across several countries. If anyone caught her, she’d be dead. There would be no rescue, no seeing this through. They’d kill her. She had to get out.

  Lillian gathered her legs under her and focused on the doors. She slid her hand up, gripping the edge of the table.

  “Don’t move.”

  …

  Thursday. SICA Site, Warsaw, Poland.

  Noah stared at the SICA site, the old church spires reaching up to pierce the night sky. It seemed fitting that an organization like SICA, who pulled strings like some malevolent god, would choose this location as their headquarters.

  “Berlin should be a go any minute now,” Brandon said, his voice echoing through Noah’s earpiece.

  They had four teams of two stationed around the old church to keep an eye on all exits. Not a soul or a light had stirred inside for hours. For all they knew, the building was empty.

  “We stick to the plan.” Noah glanced at Brandon. “Team two, join us at the front of the building in five. Team three and four, you breach from the east side of the building.”

  One by one the other teams confirmed their part in the plan.

  Noah tapped his earpiece, temporarily muting the line, then reached over and jabbed Brandon in the ear.

  “Hey,” he snapped at Noah and batted his hand away.

  Noah leaned across the van to stare into Brandon’s eyes. “Tell me now you’re with us.”

  Brandon glared back. “Fuck you.”

  Noah kept staring.

  “I know the plan, asshole. Let’s go.” Brandon tapped his ear then checked the street.

  Noah hoped this wasn’t a mistake.

  “Street’s clear,” Brandon whispered.

  Noah stepped out, glancing up across the street toward the front of the church.

  He doubted this would be like London. They’d gotten lucky and hit the warehouse there while the tactical team had been attacking Brandon’s home base. Noah fully expected to run up against some serious firepower tonight.

  They might not all come out of it alive.

  Brandon fell into step with him. Bulky coats disguised their Kevlar vests and weapons to the untrained eye. They stuck close to the shadows, creeping closer to their staging point with team two.

  The other team waited in the cover of a telephone booth, mostly obscured from view.

  “Team three and four in position. Cameras are offline,” a man said via the headset.

  Noah squinted at the nearest SICA camera he’d identified earlier. Sure enough, the red recording light was off.

  “Berlin must be a success.” Noah shrugged out of the coat.

  The other men followed his lead.

  “Mission is a go,” Brandon said.

  The other two men moved forward, just like they’d discussed. The four of them jogged across the street, right up to the front doors of the church. The locks had been upgraded to a sophisticated electrical system.

  Noah hung back and watched the man in the lead pull the door open.

  They were in, and the SICA security was offline.

  Whatever the team in Berlin was doing, it had worked.

  “We’re in,” Noah whispered.

  “Team three and four, we’re in as well.”

  “First team to find the servers, send up a flare,” Brandon said. “Other than that, clean house.”

  Noah didn’t like this job, but he had to agree, they didn’t have the manpower to take prisoners and this cancer needed to be shut down. If that meant eliminating the bad guys, they’d do it.

  Team two moved forward into what had been the foyer.

  Noah clicked on the light attached to his rifle and lifted it, stepping into the building.

  The doors leading into what had once been the sanctuary remained shut. The interior of the building was pitch dark save for a security light off to the right down a hall. Another hall broke off to the left.

  Brandon caught his eye and signaled to the right. The building was big enough they’d have to divide and conquer.

  Noah nodded and turned left.

  Despite the age of the church, great care had gone into drywalling and sectioning it off into rooms. No doubt with security in mind. He wasn’t looking forward to discovering what other upgrades had been added besides the cameras and doors.

  At best guess they would have a few more moments before they were detected, either by an internal system still online or dumb luck.

  “Team two, entering the sanctuary.” The ancient doors creaked open.

  Noah kept his focus ahead of him, on the darkened hall, straining to hear even a hint of sound.

  He didn’t so much hear as sense a sudden shift.

  Something was wrong.

  “Get—”

  Gunfire cut off his words. Bullets ripped through the silence and blasted through the drywall.

  Noah hit the ground to the tune of men’s screams.

  “They’re in the main part of the building,” Brandon yelled from the other side of the foyer.

  “Team three and four, coming to assist!”

  Noah coughed drywall out of his lungs and pushed up. Red points of light slashed across the wall in front of him.

  Someone was coming down the hall.

  Distant gunfire reverberated through the building.

  He couldn’t count on the others coming to their aid.

  “Need help over here,” someone called out behind Noah.

  Noah flattened himself against the sanctuary wall and pointed the gun at chest height. Behind him Brandon and the others exchanged fire with whoever was inside the sanctuary.

  A short figure in black tactical gear crept around the corner.

  Noah fired, the bullet ripping up through the exposed flesh of the man’s neck. A second figure stumbled over the first. Noah fired again, but with less accuracy.

  The downed man swung his rifle around. Noah kicked it away and went to a knee, driving his gun into the man’s throat and firing.

  He peered down the hall.

  Two in either hall. Six in the main room. More in reserve to avoid being flanked.

  That’s what he’d do.

  “Brandon?” Noah bellowed.

  They were walking into a trap. He didn’t know how he knew it, but that was what his gut told him.

  “Fire in the hole,” Brandon yelled.

  Fuck.

  “Stop!” Noah pushed to his feet and sprinted the short distance to the foyer.

  “Go.” Brandon shoved him toward the doors.

  “What the hell did you throw in there?” Noah hadn’t known anything about a bomb.

  “Move,” Brandon barked.

  Noah hooked an arm around the big guy from team two. He was bleeding heavily, hobbling on one good leg, trying to get toward the door.

  “Go, go, go!” Brandon chanted.

  Noah threw his weight forward. They pitched down the stairs. A moment later the concussion wave from the blast knocked them forward, onto the ground. Noah hit the pavement and rolled into the street.

  This was not the plan.

  He threw an arm up to protect his head.

  Another blast sent chunks of the ceiling into the sky.

  Noah watched the red sparks of flame arc above him, his thoughts struggling to pull together.

  Brandon grabbed both him and the other downed man, dragging them away. “Run. Run!”

  Debris pelted the pavement.

  “Team three, four, where are you?” Brandon demanded.

  “What the hell?” Noah shoved at Brandon’s arm.

  “Three, four, where are you?” Brandon repeated.

  No answer.

  “They knew we were coming,�
� Noah snarled. And if they knew their team was coming, what about Lillian? Was she in danger?

  “And that’s the last thing they’ll ever know,” Brandon said.

  “What the fuck was that?” Noah gestured behind them. “That was not the plan.”

  “That was my plan,” Brandon snarled.

  They reached the van with both of the men from team two with them.

  Brandon unlocked the door and eased his man to the floor. “We have to get to a hospital.”

  “What? Are you crazy? That’s where they’ll look for us.” Noah had known trusting Brandon was a risk, he just hadn’t been ready for this.

  “I can’t let my men die,” Brandon yelled, voice ragged.

  “What? Like the four that just did? You know what? Go.” Noah spat blood on the ground. “I’ve got to get to Hamburg.”

  “Wait. We’ll both go,” Brandon said.

  Noah thrust his finger at Brandon, so ready to beat the shit out of him. “I don’t want to see your fucking face. We were supposed to get information, not bomb them.”

  Sirens wailed in the distance.

  “Load them up. Go.” Noah gestured at the van. “We’re done with you. Get out of here.”

  He ripped off his vest and helmet. The quicker he shed what made him stick out, the quicker he could fade into the background and get to Hamburg. With any luck, Lillian would be waiting for him.

  “You won’t get far on your own. Come on. Let’s go.” Brandon waved Noah into the car.

  Fuck.

  Brandon was right.

  Noah pounded his fist on the van, then climbed behind the wheel. The last thing he was doing right now was giving Brandon any more control. They could have captured those people, played it smart, gained something. Now, all they’d done was kill and destroy. Lillian would be ashamed of them.

  After this, a plane back to Hamburg even with the best forged documents wasn’t going to work. He’d need to hop a train, or drive. The train was faster, but more conspicuous.

  He had to get back to Lillian.

  His phone vibrated.

  He pulled it out and peered over his shoulder as a cop car whizzed past.

  “Yeah?”

  “Noah?”

  “Irene—what’s wrong?” The tone of her voice, he didn’t like it.

  “Hamburg is blown. Head to Madrid.” Her cold words pelted him.

  A cold ball of dread settled in his stomach. “What? What about Lillian?”