Sam Wick Ultimate Boxset

by Chase Austin

  Jessica led Vesuvius. She was the logistics liaison and an expert in close combat. Stan and Mac completed the team’s trifecta. Stan was a former Marine and an Olympic-level shooter. Mac was the ‘go-to guy’ for anything remotely associated with technology. Together these three represented one of TF-77’s ace support teams.

  “Am I talking to Ms. Jessica?” The receptionist on the other side spoke in a soft tone.

  “Yes, who’s this?”

  “I’m calling from the Hahnemann University Hospital. Do you know anyone with the name of Stan Lang?”

  “He’s my colleague. What happened?”

  The receptionist looked at the officer standing at the other side of the reception desk. He nudged her to go on with the conversation.

  “Ma’am, we found your name on his list of emergency contacts.”

  “Is he alright?”

  “I have Sergeant Root with me to answer your questions.” The receptionist looked at the officer and handed him the phone.

  “Hello Ma’am. Sergeant Root here.”

  “Sergeant, what’s the matter, is Stan alright?”

  “I request you to sit down.”

  Jessica’s heart sank. She knew the drill as she had done it multiple times in her previous role before joining TF-77.

  “I’m fine, tell me.” She articulated every word with great focus.

  “Ma’am, during the terrorist attacks on the Farmer’s Market Terminal, our team found Mr. Stan in the building. I’m sorry to say that when we reached him, he had already succumbed to injuries. The medics couldn’t do anything to save him.”

  “Cause of death?” Jessica tried to control the pitch of her tone.

  “Possibly, excessive bleeding…but an autopsy report is still awaited.”

  “What about his mother, Mary?”

  “She is injured, still unconscious, but out of danger. The doctors are taking care of her.”

  “How did this happen?” The questions kept pouring out of her.

  “We are yet to ascertain the cause, but initial reports suggest that your colleague was the one who helped to stop the gruesome attack at the market. We have found that the bullets that matched his gun were the cause of the death of one of the terrorists. Also, the blasts that killed four other terrorists were nearer to his location. Our best people are still working on adding the pieces together.” Root took a pause to gauge the situation at Jessica’s side. “Ma’am, are you okay?”

  “Yeah.” Jessica took some time to respond.

  “We might need you here in Philadelphia for a few formalities once the flights resume operations.”

  “Yeah, I’ll be there.”

  “Thank you, I’ll be in touch. I have already sent you my number so call me if you need any help.” Root took a short pause, then said, “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  Jessica disconnected the line without a response. Her emotions had taken a toll on her speaking capacity. She had spoken to Stan just the night before and she could still hear his laugh. And now she didn’t know what to do. Should she call the TF-77 command center to let them know about the tragedy and take care of the proceedings? Should she call and tell Mac? What should she do?

  Chapter 39

  Maryland, USA

  Martha Helms switched on the news and found that Onyx was on fire. The first thing that came to her mind was — Olivia! She quickly grabbed her cell, lying face down on the dinner table and found multiple missed calls from her daughter. She called back. The phone on the other side rang too but wasn’t picked up. She thought of calling her again but then saw the headline on the television screen: Onyx still under siege. The reporters had no idea how many people were inside and if they were dead or hiding or captured. What if Olivia was in the building and captured? The thought itself made her giddy with fear. Millions of unanswered questions invaded her mind. Only one person could have the answers, her husband.

  William Helms answered the phone after three rings. Banished from the security briefing in the Situation Room, he was trying to overcome this shun while sitting alone in his office. As soon as he saw Martha’s name on his phone, Olivia’s face appeared in front of him.

  Olivia was their adopted daughter, and both Martha and he were proud of her achievements and how she was leading her life. Now she was trapped in the burning Onyx. An envelope of guilt engulfed his vision, and he blamed himself for not being there for her when she needed him the most.

  Martha’s voice invaded his thoughts. “Bill, where is Olivia?” Martha was on the verge of tears.

  “Martha, don’t panic.”

  “Where is she?”

  “Onyx.” He told her the truth and heard her dropping to the floor.

  “Martha…Martha…you okay?”

  “Bill…I want her back. Get her home. Please, I beg of you.” Martha had lost the grip on her phone but picked it up again with tears in her eyes as she begged her husband.

  “I will, Martha, I will,” Helms promised her, even though he didn’t know if he would be able to keep this promise.

  Chapter 40

  Onyx Hotel, The Marina, Houston

  Olivia waited in the darkness without making a noise. The realization that her father couldn’t come to her rescue at a moment’s notice had finally dawned upon her. Now, till the rescue teams arrive, she had to remain invisible, but an office surrounded with large glass windows was not the best place.

  She could hear the guns cracking in the adjacent lobby and the sound slowly grew louder. While she was contemplating what to do next, a few stray bullets flew around the server room, shattering the glass, making her retreat further in.

  She watched a shooter duo move past the office doors. And then they instinctively decided to go up to the pool-facing rooms onto the next floor. The bullets in the other part of the hotel had not ceased to rain. Grenade blasts reverberated like mini earthquakes through the atrium.

  She had no option other than to wait. As the shooters vanished from the floor, Olivia decided to take refuge in the room designated for the Onyx employees. She checked her pockets and found the duplicate keys to that room.

  With racing heart, she crawled out from the safety of the table under which she was hiding and squatting, moved towards the door. She turned the doorknob anticlockwise, incessantly praying that her God must at least give her enough time to get to the hiding place safely.

  Outside, the lobby was deserted. Emergency lights were switched on, giving the lobby a haunted feel. With her back towards the wall, she moved away from the stairs and deeper in the hallway. On her way, her eyes wandered to the blood splatters on the half-shattered glass door of the Monarch – an Onyx ballroom. From her place she could see multiple dead bodies inside the Monarch. Gasping with fear, she instinctively zoomed forward. She could do nothing for the dead.

  As soon as she saw the door of the employee room at the end of the hallway a smile of relief appeared on her lips, but it didn’t last long when she heard faint footsteps coming in her direction from the opposite end of the hall. She paused for a moment, confused, wondering whether she should go and unlock the door, or retreat. The footsteps were getting closer. Unlocking the door now would mean that she wouldn’t have enough time to get in the room without getting spotted. She checked the door nearest to her and found it locked. It had to be. The hotel security system only allowed the people with the hotel key cards. There was no time to check her luck with the other doors. ‘Monarch’, Olivia’s desperation was palpable, ‘I could hide there.’ She took off her pencil heels, held them in her hands and started to run in the opposite direction. The floor carpet subdued the noise.

  As soon as the Monarch’s door appeared in sight, she accelerated. The footsteps behind her quickened too, inching closer. She just didn’t have time to open the door and in a moment of panic, she jumped inside the room from the semi-broken glass door and landed on the broken glass pieces. A shriek almost escaped her mouth. Her feet and palms started to bleed as the shards of glass cut her sof
t skin. With no time to feel her pain, she got up on her feet and inched towards the farthest corner. The footsteps, as if following her, had arrived too close for comfort.

  But she couldn’t run anymore; her legs refused to support her body. The glass pieces had slowly carved themselves inside her flesh. In her haste and the darkness, she hobbled over one dead body and then another. Finally, losing her balance, she fell on the floor. This time she couldn’t stop her cries. Her face hit the floor and her nose started to bleed. She instinctively covered her face with her right hand and the glass pieces stuck in her palm slashed her face.

  Her cries magnified but she couldn’t do anything. Someone was at the door, peering inside the room. She could not see who it was, but she dared not move. Lying still and closing her eyes, she prayed for her life.

  Chapter 41

  Bellevue Hospital Center, Manhattan

  Captain Luke McCarthy had waited long enough. He hadn’t received the orders he needed. Inside the hospital, the terrorists were doing whatever they wanted to without any opposition. The delay in decision-making was costing lives every minute and his city was drowning in deep despair. Except for the SWAT team and the local police force, none of the other forces were there. It was baffling. Luke checked his watch and then looked at the phone. There was no call. And then a glass broke somewhere. He checked around for the source of it but found nothing. Suddenly someone grabbed his hand from behind and pulled him back. He wasn’t ready for it and he fumbled on his feet trying to regain balance.

  “What the…” he wanted to say a lot of things to the one who had done this to him but then the glass shards hit the ground where seconds ago Luke was standing. He looked up and involuntarily took a step back. A woman had jumped out of the broken window, freely falling to her death. Her body hit the ground and was smashed to pulp. The people around gasped. Some of them covered their mouths in shock. There wasn’t any chance to save her.

  Luke looked back at the window for anyone lurking there and checking the body. There wasn’t anyone. He then looked back at the dead body and his bottled rage found a vent. In that moment, he decided to take the matter into his own hands. He was about to give orders to his boys when his phone rang.

  “Luke, we have the orders to engage. Kill those bastards.”

  “Yes, Sir,” Luke said with earnestness. He disconnected the call and looked at his team. “Boys, we are going in. Take positions.” He then spoke on his lip mike. “Snipers, be ready.”

  He was not in a mood for mercy. These men didn’t deserve it. His law told him that any such attack was punishable by death and he and his men would give them that.

  Khalid stood in silence as the footsteps approached the third floor where he and his men were holed up.

  “We’re about to get hit.” One of his teammates alerted him.

  “I know,” Khalid spoke without looking at his man.

  “What now?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “We should hold them off and see if we can negotiate something using the hostages. We just need one or two people.” The man didn’t even believe his own words. That what he had just said would even work. Negotiate with whom? And for what…safety? What safety?

  “They are not here to negotiate with us. They are here to tell us lies until their sniper gets a clear headshot,” Khalid said it as a matter of fact.

  “So, what now?”

  “Slam RDX on each door. We fight and if we start losing, then start exploding the floor. Kill as many as we can before we get one ourselves. Whatever it takes to avenge our brothers.”

  “Whatever it takes.” The seven of them repeated after Khalid.

  Chapter 42

  Bellevue Hospital Center, Manhattan

  Six men in body armor were already on the second floor, checking each ward. Two of them covered the lift and four covered the stairs. More joined them soon. Snipers were stationed at the adjacent buildings.

  Khalid and his men were on high ground here and had better chances in this battle. He and his men had fortified all possible entry points on the third floor.

  “Let them come,” Khalid spoke to everyone in a hushed voice. His whispered message reached to everyone, and they all nodded from their positions. They sat still in the darkness.

  A man’s head popped up to check the third floor. It looked unusually silent. He threw two smoke bombs on the floor and then reverted to his cover position. Khalid and others watched the projectile fly into the hallway and reached for their masks.

  A second passed. Two seconds. Three. Four. And then they heard the footsteps on the stairs. Five men appeared on the stairs in quick succession amidst the smoke. Khalid and his men let them arrive unimpeded. He wanted them to be in full sight. As soon as the last man appeared on the floor, Khalid’s men opened fire.

  The gunshots made the floorboards vibrate. One uniform hit the ground instantly. Others scrambled to find a place to hide on the third floor.

  Khalid stopped firing but his men didn’t. Using the cover fire, he took out a grenade and rolled it in the direction of the men. The four uniforms saw the grenade slowly rolling and stopping five feet away from them. If they ran, the rain of bullets would catch them and if they did not, they were already dead. They decided to take their chances.

  Without second thoughts, they got out of their hiding location and ran towards the stairs. Khalid had already trained his gun at their exit and his bullets caught one of the four cops on the back. He stumbled on the floor and hit the deck hard. Dying instantly.

  Another cop had gotten just halfway before he was shot. Now he was crawling towards the stairs when the grenade went off. The other two lunged over the railing and landed on the stairs below. Khalid gestured to two of his men to run to the floor above.

  In the Situation Room, Hancock and everyone else watched the intense battle on a big screen. The skills of the terrorists had taken everyone by surprise. Three of their men were dead within the first thirty seconds of the battle, without even making a dent.

  “Incoming through the exit stairs. Prepare to return fire,” a terrorist yelled.

  “Affirmative,” someone responded in the darkness.

  The uniforms took up positions behind heavy armored ballistic shields. A man popped up and raised a tear gas gun. Khalid and others watched the projectile fly in the hallway. It hit the floor and rolled forward. Another man popped up and fired another canister, and then a third. The hallway began to fill with smoke.

  “Fire when ready,” Luke said as he led his men from the front.

  He watched his men as they opened the door entirely and began taking their positions, while deflecting any incoming fire from the terrorists with their heavy, armored, portable ballistic shields, designed to provide protection from 7.62mm AK-47 rounds. The weapons used by Khalid and his men.

  Luke’s men kept checking the area through a small window near the top of the shields while securing defensive positions.

  “Let’s go,” Khalid yelled, and the gunfire started. The maelstrom was so strong that Luke’s men couldn’t even get up to shoot back from their ballistic shields. But Luke knew this would stop eventually when the guns ran out of bullets and they would have to stop for a reload. He proved to be right very soon. Despite the huge ammo at their side, Khalid had miscalculated how much he and his men could afford to use in one go. And as soon as they stopped, Luke’s men rose from behind the shields.

  “Now!” Luke yelled.

  His men aimed their guns and started to shoot. Khalid and the others ducked for safety, but the locked wards and rooms gave them little cover. And unlike them, Luke and his men were tactically better in finding the targets and then pressing the trigger.

  The two terrorists on the fourth floor walked towards the exit stairs from where they had planned to ambush the uniforms from behind. As soon as they opened the exit door, they met three gun-barrels pointing at them.

  “Going somewhere?” The three men didn’t wait for them to answer befor
e squeezing the triggers. The two terrorists did not even get the chance to lift their guns.

  At the floor below, it was a massacre on both sides. The terrorists had reloaded their weapons and were now back in the battle. It was now or never for them.

  “Allahu Akbar,” Khalid yelled as he blew the head off of one of the cops. Luke saw his key men going down and his rage doubled.

  But for Khalid the situation was much worse. His plan to ambush the team from behind had not materialized. It wasn’t even ten minutes in the battle and the end was almost near. His men were dying left, right and center.