by James Hunt
“I found a way in,” Bryce said.
“A little late for that.” Sarah rushed down the aisle and bent to her knee at the other end. She poked her head around the side and saw two guards on the other end. She pulled back, and the cubicles were turned to Swiss cheese by a cluster of .223 rounds. The office supplies on the desks were torn to bits and rained down on her in a mist of paper and metal.
“The signal is on the move,” Bryce said.
“Well, then, why don’t you go and get it!” Sarah jumped up from behind the cubicle and managed to take out one of the guards stalking her away from the safety of his group, and she ducked before the retaliatory shots were fired.
“It’s heading to the roof,” Bryce replied, apparently ignoring Sarah’s earlier suggestion.
The thump of the gunfire was constant now. The guards refused to let up, hell bent on obliterating everything in the office. The cubicle wall slowly morphed from Swiss cheese to a very large open window. Sarah fired back through one of the openings and emptied the AR’s magazine. She dumped the rifle on the ground. She tilted her head back in exasperation and saw the sprinklers above her that followed an organized placement across the ceiling. She backed up, aimed, and blew off as many of the sprinklers as she could. The bullets shattered the small cylinders of glass that triggered the flood of water that soaked everyone in the room.
The firing stopped, giving her more than enough time to start to make her move up the back side of the office. The drops of water splashed against her face as she ran, aiming each end of her pistols at its own target. She lined up each shot carefully, knowing she’d only get one opportunity. The bullets ejected from the barrels of her guns and landed in their targets with pinpoint accuracy.
Water flew off her arms and legs as she sprinted down the hallway and shoulder checked the door past the now-empty receptionist desk. The office was empty, but a small door that revealed a staircase remained open.
“The signal is still on the roof,” Bryce said.
Sarah flew up the steps and burst out onto the roof, where she was met with a blast of wind from the chopper taking off. Sarah fired into the blasts of air, but the .45 rounds did little but scrape the helicopter’s paint job. The thump of the blades slowly dissipated into the air as Sarah’s wet clothes clung to her body.
“It’s gone.”
8
The voicemail message appeared on her phone, and Sarah picked it up. She changed out of her still-damp clothes at HQ and listened. Her brother’s voice gave her a brief moment of warmth. “Hey, just wanted to see how you were doing with the power outage. We’re fine here. Give me a call when you can.”
A smile crept onto her face as the beep signaled the end of the message. She sat down on the bench, staring at the phone. This was the first time in more than four months that her brother had called her. And she remembered the last call all too well.
The locker room was quiet, as most of the agents were still on their missions around the rest of the world. Mack had sent her to New York because she was the best, but this time she hadn’t been able to get it done. She stayed there for a moment, letting herself enjoy the silence and calm around her. Once she left the locker room and stepped back out onto the floor, she would reenter chaos and noise. It wasn’t something that bothered her—in fact, the chaos was something she thrived on—but for now, the silence was what she needed.
After a few minutes, she stood up from the bench, closed her locker, and headed out onto the floor. She found Bryce surrounded by the other support agents and elbowed her way to the front. “You guys know you’re not supposed to watch porn at work, right?” The joke didn’t even crack a smile, but when she saw the footage of what they were watching, she knew why.
“Video feed from Moscow,” Bryce said absentmindedly.
If Sarah had thought New York was bad, then Moscow was hell on earth. Massive fires consumed downtown St. Petersburg, and whatever wasn’t already burned or burning was smashed by the riots in the streets.
“Vince sent this an hour ago on his recon to pull our assets in the area,” Johnny said. “He barely made it out alive.”
The tone was one of defeat, and Sarah could feel it tearing through the group. “Hey,” she said, pulling their attention away from the screen. “Then let’s find the bastards who caused this.” The agents looked around at one another and rushed back to their stations.
“I’ve been keeping a trace on the Global Power program since New York,” Bryce said, changing the video on his screen from the riots to the GPS map. “I lost it once it left the eastern seaboard. It was moving too fast for the tracker to update in real time, but it landed here.”
“Spain?”
“Yeah, and get this.” Bryce pulled up another screen riddled with information with the words “Tuck Investments” at the top. “I did a cross-reference for any shares of companies Tuck Investments had its fingers in against any possible weaponized materials, which lead me to Precious Mining Inc. Tuck owns forty percent of that company, which is based out of Canada.”
“What do they mine?”
“They’re the largest producer of uranium in the world.”
“Christ.”
“Yeah. So then I tried finding any pieces of property where they could store uranium off the books, and I found three possible sites: one in Canada, another in Russia, and the third off the southern coast of Spain.”
Sarah squeezed Bryce’s shoulders hard, causing him to wince in pain. “Atta boy! Get me a weapons package ready. I’ve got a flight to catch.”
Rust and peeling paint covered the outside of the factory. It was an eyesore stuck in the middle of the marina off the Mediterranean coast, contrasting against the light- and dark-blue waves rolling in the sea. The windows of the factory were high, almost to the ceiling, concealing the true nature of the factory from any prying eyes.
Conveyer belts, forklifts, and workers dressed in hazmat suits pored over the materials coming down their lines with the same mechanical effort as the machines around them, performing the same repetitive motions over and over until their minds were numb and their backs sore from standing in the same position for hours.
High above the factory floor, concealed and protected behind thick sheets of steel, concrete, and glass, were Rick Demps and the rest of the board for Tuck Investments. Rick stood at the window, watching the assembly take place, watching the future of his company grow—along with its stock, which would make him the wealthiest man in the world. He smiled, swirled the glass of brandy in his hand, and turned back to his constituents, all of whom had the same wicked smile on their faces.
“Gentlemen,” Rick said, raising his glass to the room, “In less than eight hours, our shipments will be delivered in the cities around the world. When that happens, world leaders will be clamoring for us to save them with Global Power. Our stock price will go through the roof. We will be the saviors of the world.”
The men all raised their glasses in kind, the same greedy, contemptuous smiles leering back at him. Rick turned back around to the factory, sipping his drink, admiring the taste of his success and of all that would come to fruition. He looked at his watch then turned around to the rest of the board. “If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen.” The assembled directors chuckled to themselves as the whiskey and other spirits warmed their bloated bodies.
Rick closed the door behind him, and his head of security detail, Heath, stepped in stride with him to the office from which he’d make the conference call. “Where are we at with the incident in New York?”
“All of them were dead, sir, and we couldn’t get any good pictures off the security feed. All we know right now is that it was a woman,” Heath answered.
“Ridiculous.” Rick’s voice came out in a violent, breathy whisper. The events in New York had triggered an annoying series of events. With the city still in chaos, he had to arrange for all the repairs to be flown in. The only positive that came out of it was the fact that he didn’t have to stay co
oped up in that office any longer. “I want to find out who she is, where she is, and what we need to do to make sure she doesn’t bother us again.”
“Yes, sir.”
Rick closed the door to the office and left the details to Heath. There couldn’t be any slip-ups now, not when he was so close. The projector inside his office lowered, and he was soon greeted by the blurred face of the only member of his board that had not chosen to attend today’s meeting in person. “We have a problem.”
“Don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet, Demps?” The voice was still distorted, but even through the manipulation, Rick could sense the mockery.
“I understand you have access to certain pieces of information,” Rick said. “Well, I have a thorn in my side that’s causing us problems.”
“The girl.”
“I need her gone.”
“That’s something I won’t associate myself with, but I will send you what information I have. Just make sure once the stock sales rise, I get my share of the profits.”
“Always a pleasure doing business with you.” The screen went blank, and another incoming call came through, where he was greeted by the leaders of the United States, Russia, France, Italy, India, England, and China.
“Presidents, prime ministers, it’s an honor to have the opportunity to speak with you all at once,” Rick said.
“We need to know the status of Global Power, Mr. Demps,” the American president said. “We’ve already debriefed Russia, India, and China about the matter. We just need to know when it can go live and restore order.”
“I just came from a meeting with my engineers, and they say that they’ve almost fixed the damage to the program caused by the theft,” Rick answered. “Have we made any headway into how this breach in security happened?”
“No,” the American president answered, “but our collective intelligence agencies are working in cooperation to find out who was behind the attack.”
Rick leaned forward, pausing a moment before he spoke, running through all the different scenarios and outcomes that could happen based off how he chose to word it. The crew in New York would still be working on the building, but that wouldn’t matter. The fact that he had his own security detail there during such a dangerous time would be completely acceptable. If his friend didn’t come through, then this could be the only way to pull the weed that plagued his luscious garden. “Mr. President, you should know that during the blackout in New York, I was attacked in my own office.”
“Do you think it’s related to what happened in Germany?” the Italian president asked.
“A lot of my men were killed during the assault. It was definitely performed by a professional. I think they were trying to use me as a means to take control of Global Power,” Rick answered.
“Mr. Demps, anything you have, we’re going to need. It could help turn the tide in finding out whoever was behind this,” said the American president.
“Of course, Mr. President. I’ll have the head of my security detail send you everything we have immediately. The moment I hear from our engineers, I’ll be sure to contact all of you.”
The call ended, and the screen went blank. Rick leaned back in his chair and drummed his fingers on the desk. Sharing intelligence. He was sure the only things any of them were sharing were lies and ways to get the upper hand on one another farther down the road. But for now, they all had a common enemy, and Rick didn’t mind leaning on the people he was manipulating to help him find the rat sneaking around his own operation. Whoever or whatever this thorn in his side was wouldn’t be around for much longer.
The fact that HQ was already spread thin with almost every single person out on assignment didn’t make things easier for Sarah and Bryce when they were gearing up for the mission. Bryce kept a close eye on the signal to make sure it stayed in its location and sent her live updates with regard to any other information he was able to gather on Rick Demps, as well as the factory they were located in.
Equipment and personnel for the factory had been purchased by hundreds of different shell companies and dummy organizations in the effort to conceal what they were trying to build: bombs. Tuck Investments had gone to great lengths to keep all of it hidden, and the amount of money it paid the workers at the site was enough to keep anyone quiet.
The cargo plane Bryce had managed to secure her a ride on jolted from some turbulence, and Sarah’s whole seat jerked, almost knocking her out of the straps keeping her in place. The bump had caused her phone to fall out of her pocket and onto the floor. She picked it up and stared at it for a moment before opening it. Her brother’s voicemail was still saved in her messages, but she’d yet to call him back. Sarah hit his name in her contacts, and the phone rang. She knew she shouldn’t use the HQ satellite for a call like this, especially in the current climate, but she had to talk to her brother. She couldn’t let the two of them drift apart again like they had.
“Sarah? Are you all right?” Ben asked.
“Hey, Ben, yes, I’m fine.”
The drum of the plane’s engines caused the cabin to stay noisy, making it difficult to hear, but she was almost positive there was a sigh of relief that came through. “How are the kids holding up?”
“They’re fine,” Ben answered. “They’re actually having a blast. The living room has turned into a giant fort, and they managed to convince me that they had to eat all the ice cream in the freezer before it went bad. It’s like watching midget homeless people on crack run through my own house.”
“You know ice cream is the gateway drug, so make sure you keep an eye on them. Middle school is just around the corner, and you don’t want to have the ‘rebel’ kids.”
Ben laughed, and she smiled. The plane jolted again from some turbulence, and the crates around her clanked into each other.
“Where are you right now?” Ben asked. “It sounds like you’re in a wind tunnel.”
“I’m over by the marina. Had to get out of the house, walk around a bit.”
“You shouldn’t be out right now, Sarah. I’ve been checking the news on the radio. People are starting to lose it out there.”
“Oh, trust me, I know.”
A silence fell between them, and Sarah could hear the faint giggles of Ella and Matt echoing from somewhere in the house. The silence was uncomfortable, both parties unsure of what to say next and how the other would react.
“I know I haven’t been the friendliest guy lately,” Ben said. “When mom and dad—” Ben’s voice caught, and Sarah could feel the pain through the phone.
“I’m sorry, Ben. I’m sorry about how everything went down. I didn’t want any of it to happen.”
“Me either.”
Updates flashed on her computer, as the plane was only ten minutes away from the drop zone. Sarah wiped her eyes and positioned the phone away from her mouth as she gently cleared her throat. “Listen, I won’t be able to make it to dinner tonight. Something came up, but I’m still definitely coming to Ella’s play on Saturday.”
“Pending the power comes back on by then,” Ben said.
“I have a good feeling it will. I’ll talk to you later. Bye, butt munch.”
“Bye, turd-face.”
The call ended, and the tears under her eyes reached the tipping point, cascading down her face. I love you. She hadn’t said it. She hadn’t said those words in a very long time. Not to her brother. Not to her niece and nephew. Not to anyone. Those words seemed to be a foreign language to her, one her tongue couldn’t grasp in enunciation.
And it was still too soon. She wasn’t ready to say it, and her brother wasn’t ready to hear it. As nice as it was to hear from him, to know he was still worried about her, there was still the slightest hint of anger in him, and in herself as well.
Sarah had missed birthdays, holidays, family events, and too many dinners to remember because of her job. It was part of the life, one she had accepted long ago. She loved her parents and her brother, but the truth was it scared her that she
might love her job even more.
9
The parachute collapsed behind Sarah as her boots hit the grass of a field just west of the factory. The drop location was only a few miles from the target, giving her enough space to make sure she could get a good look at the perimeter before she made any moves. She dropped the parachute straps to the ground and started the jog to the factory.
Sarah made sure to take a good look around before encroaching on the property. If Rick Demps had wanted to portray the factory as a dilapidated piece of shit, he succeeded. There wasn’t a piece of equipment in the entire yard that didn’t look broken down or one step up from never moving again.
Security personnel were scarce, but when Sarah asked for a scan of the building, Bryce found more than sixty sensors stationed from her position to the factory’s entrance. Anywhere she moved on that property, she’d trigger an alarm that would give away her position and blow any chance of retrieving the software and stopping the bombs. She needed a way in, but unless she could get another air drop in her location, which Bryce informed her she could not, she was on her own.
“Send down a scramble,” she told Bryce.
“What? Sarah, that’ll fry your communications.”
“But it’ll also destroy the sensors in the field.”
“You’ll be dark, alone.”
“And I’ll be able to get inside the factory.”
“It’s too risky.”
“Bryce.”
“Fine.”
“If you don’t hear from me within forty-eight hours—”
“I’ll talk to them personally,” Bryce answered.
There was a hardness in his voice whenever he said something that was a promise. He never had to say the words, but she knew he would get it done. “Thanks. Give me a sixty-second countdown and then let ’er rip.” She started to take the earpiece out then quickly put it back in. “Oh! And if something does happen to me, tell Mack I’m sorry I ate his sandwich out of the fridge last week.”
