The Relic Runner Origin Story Box Set

by Ernest Dempsey

  His thoughts instantly flashed back to the current predicament. There was no way down to the main floor that didn't involve a bloody gunfight. That left one option: they'd have to go up and risk a daring escape across the rooftops.

  "Come on," he whispered to Will. Without waiting for a reply or a breath of protest, Dak slipped into the stairwell and started to climb.

  Will had no choice but to follow. He hurried after his friend, staying close behind him, using the edges of the steps to keep silent. The two kept their feet apart as they climbed to prevent their pants from swishing together as they moved. They rounded the top landing and slowed at the doorway to the rooftop. Dak pushed gently on the bar, then waited.

  Will's eyebrows knit tightly together at Dak's hesitation. "What are you doing?" he mouthed.

  "Wait," Dak ordered silently.

  Will drew his weapon and aimed it down the flight of stairs, certain the assailants would appear around the corner of the next landing below. He didn't dare look over the railing in case one of the men below happened to look up.

  Dak listened intently. The sound of a door being jerked open reverberated from below. The second it did, Dak pushed the rooftop door open and stepped out into the warm, bright sunlight. He winced and wished he had time to get his sunglasses from the bag on his back, but that was a luxury he couldn't afford.

  He hurried out onto the roof and surveyed the immediate area. The next building was fairly close, and one story below Will's, but after that, he recalled the gap between the second apartment complex and the third spanned at least sixty feet, separated by a small courtyard in the middle.

  Dak pictured the attackers' approach to Will's apartment. He visualized them moving down the hall with every second he stood still on the roof. They would enter the apartment soon, breaching the door and sweeping every room until they realized their quarry was gone.

  "Come on," Dak urged quietly. He held the door open and then eased it shut after Will passed.

  "Where are we going?" Will demanded, indignant now that it appeared they had nowhere to run.

  "Next building."

  "What?"

  Dak didn't answer. Instead, he sprinted across the rooftop and stopped abruptly at the edge. The lip of the building was shin high. He looked down at the deadly drop, knowing that a mistake here would be the end. He'd been in worse spots before.

  He knew the death squad downstairs were entering the apartment. Every second counted.

  Will skidded to a stop next to Dak and looked down, then over at the next building. "You're gonna jump?"

  "No choice," Dak said. He had no time to argue. Instead, he took a few steps back, trotted to the edge, and planted his left foot on the flat top. He launched himself through the air, easily clearing the distance.

  Will watched as Dak landed on the rooftop below, hitting the surface with a thud. The second his boots struck the roof, Dak's legs crumpled, and he rolled to his feet.

  Dak turned and looked back up at Will, motioning his friend to hurry.

  Will stepped back and copied Dak's move, leaping over the gap like an Olympic long-jumper to the next rooftop. Midway through the air, Dak heard a noise just over his right shoulder and instinctively dove to his side.

  The access door to the rooftop burst open and a man in a black mask and tactical gear stepped out, military-grade rifle in hand. He raised the weapon, aiming it at Will as he struck the ground and rolled forward.

  The gunman's finger tensed, ready to fire.

  Dak sprung from behind him and kicked the hand guard an inch in front of the man's left hand. The muted pop escaped the suppressor on the end of the barrel and fired the bullet harmlessly into the sky.

  The guard reacted, but slowly, both out of confusion and fear. He started to turn, but it was too late. Dak grabbed the weapon, ejected the magazine from the rifle, and head-butted the gunman in the nose. The man staggered back for a second, loosening his grip on the weapon. It dangled from the strap over his shoulder, and Dak used the moment to pull the charging handle. The last of the live rounds ejected onto the ground.

  Dak tilted his body at the hip, and kicked the man in the chest, driving him back through the open door and into the stairwell.

  Will had recovered from his landing and aimed his pistol at the gunman, but Dak stepped in the way and held up a hand.

  "Don't shoot him," Dak said.

  "What?" Will’s bewilderment boiled over and seeped out of his eyes. "Why not?"

  Dak slammed the door shut and motioned to a metal-handled broom leaning against the access portal's exterior wall.

  "Give me that, quick," Dak barked, keeping his right foot wedged against the closed access door.

  Will grabbed the broom and passed it to his friend.

  He didn't have time to ask another question. Dak took the handle and threaded it through the latch and a lamp post hanging to the side of the door. When the gunman recovered and tried to get through, the door would be barred shut.

  "Come on," Dak said.

  He started toward the far wall. Will followed, but called after him. "Dude, you realize there's no way we can jump to that next building.”

  Dak knew he was right, and the realization was only confirmed when he reached the edge. A courtyard below separated the two buildings. After that, there were no other structures for a full block. A park sprawled beyond the next apartment complex.

  "The hit squad," Dak said, "are they on the roof yet?"

  Will glanced back at his building. "No, not yet."

  "Good. Come on."

  Dak ran to the back corner of the rooftop where a set of cables ran down over the edge.

  "What are you doing?" Will pleaded.

  "How many times are you going to ask me that?"

  "As many as it takes for you to tell me exactly how you're planning to get us out of this mess."

  "Fine," Dak said. "Watch." He grabbed the cluster of cables and flung his legs over the ledge. "We're rappelling down."

  "What?"

  "Stop saying that and grab the cables." Dak's eyes flashed to a row of rooftop water heaters. "They won't see us if we hurry."

  A second later, he was gone.

  Will leaned over the edge and saw his friend rapidly walking his way down the exterior wall. The building was shorter than his, but only by one story, and the fall from here would still be deadly.

  He looked back over his shoulder and saw the access door shuddering at a steady cadence as the man inside tried to break through. Then Will saw the door to his apartment building burst open. He ducked down and grabbed the cables, then crawled over to the edge.

  Will eased himself over the side of the building as he whispered a quiet prayer that the wires would hold. He doubted they were intended to carry the weight of two grown men, but he had no choice.

  Will lowered his feet until he felt the hard wall, and then, hand-over-hand, began walking his way down the building.

  He'd been rappelling before, but with a harness, handbrake, and other safety gear. Here, if he slipped or lost his grip, he'd fall.

  Down below, Dak neared the bottom. Their combined weight and uncoordinated movements caused the cords to vibrate and shake in his hands. He didn't know how long the wires would hold.

  When he reached the second floor, he quickened his pace, almost to a backward, straight down jog. A few feet below the top of the first floor, he took one more big step and then let go.

  Dak hit the ground with a thud. He'd underestimated the drop, and the jarred landing sent a dull pain through his knees and hips. He'd be fine. He knew that. His eyes lifted to Will who had just passed the top of the second floor.

  Dak felt a pounding sense of urgency. He looked around the empty courtyard and out onto the street. So far, no one seemed to notice the two men climbing down the side of the apartment building. Thankfully, most of the town's attention was focused on the beach where the explosion had occurred.

  Still, Dak knew the team hunting him would figure out wh
ere they’d gone and make their way down to the street. If they were smart, and he had to assume they were, the killers would cordon off the area, probably claiming they were with local authorities searching for another explosive device.

  It's what he would do.

  Will made it to the top of the first floor.

  "One more step and you can jump," Dak urged.

  "One step? You serious?"

  "Fine, two steps. Come on, man. We gotta go."

  Will kept moving, albeit much more deliberately than Dak would have liked.

  After four steps, he reluctantly released the cables and dropped to the ground. The wires slapped against the side of the wall as Will's feet struck earth with a thump. The landing didn't hurt him as much as it had Dak, at least from what Dak could tell.

  "You good?" Dak asked.

  Will nodded. "Yeah, I'm good. I can't believe—"

  "I know. Rappelling down an apartment building. Crazy. But we're not out of this yet. Let's get out of here and we'll reminisce later."

  Eleven

  Nazaré

  Colonel Cameron Tucker watched everything on the eight monitors in front of him in a remote location just outside of Lisbon.

  Two months after the debacle with Dak Harper in Iraq, the colonel was reassigned. While his superiors told him, it could have happened to anyone, and that the new job had nothing to do with his failure to bring in the rogue Harper, it was just lip service.

  He'd been placed in charge of a head-hunting unit with the specific purpose of tracking down AWOL soldiers like Harper, and Tucker would be lying if he said he didn't spend most of his time and resources trying to locate the man who'd betrayed his team in Iraq. More than a year had passed since then, and with every passing day his impatience pooled near the brim of his cup of iniquity. He'd become grumpy, easily agitated, going from a man most of his soldiers looked up to and admired, to a figure who barked orders like some kind of authoritarian dictator.

  Tucker was self aware enough to realize the changes he'd experienced, and he didn't care. The longer this manhunt dragged on, the more pressure mounted on him. The higher-ups demanded results, and after so many months of coming up empty, he felt more and more like he was on borrowed time.

  He kept his eyes glued to the team leader's body cam, watching as the man maneuvered through the apartment building's lobby and up into the stairwell. As ordered, two men were stationed near the elevators with one more at each of the two main exits. Based on multiple layouts of the building, Tucker was confident they'd secured every possible way out.

  Every way except one.

  Tucker's team entered the floor where Harper's friend, Will Collins, had an apartment. Tucker knew of Collins, but only by reputation. He couldn't find much on him now, which in Tucker's mind meant the guy was up to something illegal. If he had to guess, he'd say running guns to militants, rebels, or even ambitious drug lords. Nazare was a strange location for something like that, though, and he wondered what the logistics nightmare must look like from the small fishing village.

  Those distracting thoughts had taken very little of Tucker's focus during the recon effort. One of his former operators, Bo Taylor, had given Tucker everything he needed to put his team in place. Dak Harper would fall right into their net, and the colonel envisioned accolades from his peers. They would honor his perseverance and innovation in getting the job done.

  But he hadn't gotten the job done.

  Colonel Tucker watched with dismay as his team entered the corridor, then breached the door into Will Collins' apartment. Tucker's men swept the entire place, searched every room. They ripped blankets off beds, cushions from the sofa and chairs, scoured the kitchen, and even checked the cabinets despite the fact that neither Harper nor Collins were small enough to fit inside.

  The apartment was empty, and Tucker felt a sudden wave of anxiety flood his body. His chest tightened and his breath shortened. He shifted his view to the other screens, monitoring the exits where his men stood guard. They hadn't moved, hadn't even twitched since taking up their stations.

  Where was Dak Harper?

  The answer to his unspoken question came to him within seconds. "Check the roof," Tucker ordered into the comms link. "Swanson, get to the roof. If you get eyes on the target, take him down."

  A sharp "Yes, sir" barked through the earpiece.

  Tucker's placement of Swanson in a vacant, top level apartment in the building next door provided the team with a sniper in case Harper managed to escape to the street. While Swanson was equipped with a military-grade rifle, it wasn't the usual sniper version he preferred. Still, it would be more than enough to take down the rogue operator and his friend.

  While Swanson hurried up the stairs to the roof, the team left the apartment and rushed back to the stairwell, leaving one man standing guard in case Harper and his accomplice thought they could hide out in one of the other apartments until it was safe to leave.

  As the men ascended the stairs, Tucker's eyes remained fixed on Swanson's screen. His body cam bounced and shook as he ascended the stairs. The screen brightened momentarily when Swanson opened the door. When the lens adjusted, a foot shot out of nowhere just as the gunman was lining up the shot to take out Collins, who'd landed on the rooftop and rolled to a stop about twenty feet away.

  The blow from the boot knocked the rifle loose in Swanson's hand. Then a familiar face appeared on the screen.

  Tucker watched in rapt horror as Dak Harper disarmed the soldier, disposed of the weapon's ammunition, and knocked Swanson back into the stairwell. When Swanson recovered, he couldn't open the door again, no matter how many times Tucker urged him to get back out there and stop them.

  Try as he might, Swanson couldn't get the door to open. He pushed and barged against it with his shoulder, but it didn’t budge.

  Tucker slammed his fist against a nearby counter, causing the rest of the operators in the room to jump with a start. He let loose a sting of obscenities born of monumental frustration.

  "Someone stop Dak Harper!" he shouted.

  The team in Collins' building emerged into the daylight and fanned out to cover the entire rooftop. There was, of course, no sign of Harper or his friend.

  "Cooper? MacFarland? Tell me you have eyes on the target," Tucker sneered, forcing himself to keep at least a sliver of calm.

  "Negative," the two men echoed. "No sign of either target."

  "They're on the roof next door. Get someone over there and let Swanson out of the access stairwell."

  "Sir?"

  "What, Cooper? What's the problem?"

  "That's a dangerous jump, sir. And there's no sign of either target on the other roof."

  Tucker's mind raced. Where could they be? Had they jumped? No, Harper wouldn't do that.

  He spoke to a man in an SUV. "Mills, do you have any visual of the targets?"

  "No, sir. They didn't come out this way, and I have eyes on the next building. They didn't come out of there, either."

  Of course they didn't. They vanished into thin air like ghosts in a breeze. "Circle around the block and make sure they didn't get out another way. I know we had all exits covered. Do it anyway."

  "Yes, sir."

  Tucker watched the feed from the camera in the SUV as the driver sped around the block. He already knew what was coming. There would be no sign of Harper. He'd managed to slip through their fingers.

  Another thought needled at his brain, though, and he couldn't shake it. Why, if Harper was the man Bo Taylor claimed him to be—a reckless, self-serving killer who was happy to betray his own men—didn't he kill Swanson on the rooftop? Harper was armed, and he'd disarmed the sniper easily. He could have shot Swanson in the face, used the man's own weapons against him, but the techniques Harper used were all non lethal.

  Perhaps Tucker was looking into it too much, overthinking things.

  One fact remained, he needed to catch Dak Harper, and somehow, the man had wriggled out of his net.

  Twelve


  Leiria, Portugal

  Dak and Will climbed out of the gray sedan and onto the street in front of a row of steps leading up to a church. The paint on the white, stone building had faded in places, and displayed dark, mottled spots in others where the weather had tarnished the walls, both those wrapping around the church property, as well as the building itself. Some sections of the cracked retaining walls looked as if they might crumble away. The steps climbed ten feet, then made a sharp left, leading to the entrance of the old building perched atop a slight rise.

  Will tipped the driver through the window and thanked him in perfect Portuguese before the man drove away, speeding down the antiquated street in search of his next fare.

  It was the second such ride Dak and Will had taken. The first landed them in Marinha Grande, just to the north of Nazare.

  After running from the apartment building, the two men considered disappearing in the park, or perhaps blending in with the locals. Dak struck down the plan the second it passed through his own lips. The colonel's men would be thorough. They would scout the town until they found what they were looking for.

  Instead, Dak and Will took a cab north, figuring Colonel Tucker would be watching the way to Lisbon—the largest city, and the one with the most travel options. Lisbon would make sense as a getaway route.

  Dak doubted the man would look to the north, toward the smaller towns and villages.

  Once they reached Marinha Grande, they had paid the driver and immediately secured another ride, this one taking them to the town of Leiria, a short ride east.

  The Castelo de Leiria stood high on a hill overlooking the town of winding streets and pedestrian walkways. Its terracotta-tiled roof contrasted with the gray stone walls. Square-shaped parapets towered over the main portions of the fortress. The nearly 900-year-old building had been renovated and restored multiple times during the centuries, most recently after the 1969 earthquake.