The Zulu Virus Chronicles Boxset (Books 1-3)

by Steven Konkoly

  “Feel better?” said Rich through his headset.

  “What are you, a mind reader?” said Larsen.

  “Great minds think alike,” said Rich. “And I’ve been doing this for a long time. We’ll be fine here.”

  “That sounds familiar,” said Larsen.

  “Say again?” said Rich.

  “Nothing. Inside joke.”

  “I have a visual on four helicopters coming in low on the horizon,” said Rico.

  Larsen said, “Jesus. They aren’t fucking around. Two Black Hawks escorted by two Apaches. One Apache in front, the other—just went high. It’s still climbing. That’s their shooter. Thirty-millimeter death from above.”

  “Don’t get excited, Rico,” said Rich. “Just keep us informed.”

  “Ha! Copy that!” said Rico. “Looks like they’re coming in hot, just like Ecker said. Staying low. Apache will buzz us in ten seconds. Maybe less.”

  “Hold on to your hats,” said Rich. “And don’t expose yourself until you get the all clear from Rico. We’re going to have some nervous gunners on this flight.”

  “The second Black Hawk appears to have slowed down,” said Rico.

  “It’ll be a staggered pickup,” said Ecker. “This’ll go down quick. Everyone needs to be ready to move immediately.”

  “Make sure they know we’ll be coming from every direction,” said Rich.

  “Got it,” said Ecker.

  The sound of helicopter rotors became deafening.

  “First Apache veered off to the right,” said Rico. “Headed toward the forest. Black Hawk almost overhead.”

  The cornstalks around him rattled and shook as the helicopter passed over the same path taken by Archer’s downed Black Hawk, creating a dust storm in its wake. Larsen saw the gray helicopter briefly before the cloud of dirt swallowed everything around him. There was nothing he could do at this point. His fate was in the hands of two people he didn’t know and barely trusted. A few seconds later, his headset chirped.

  “It’s all good,” said Rico. “They’re loading Archer into the first helo. Second bird is for us.”

  “Good work,” said Rich.

  “Ecker did some fast talking,” said Rico.

  “Is Ecker going with Archer?” said Larsen.

  “Negative. Ecker flies out with us,” said Rico. “First bird is dusting off.”

  The dust storm intensified for a few seconds as the medevac helicopter took off. Before the dirt could settle, the second Black Hawk took its place in the flattened field, its shadow briefly passing directly over Larsen.

  “That’s our ride,” said Rico. “The bird is facing due west. Approach from the north or south periphery of the landing zone.”

  “I know how to approach a helicopter,” said Larsen.

  “I don’t know what you know,” said Rico.

  “This isn’t my first rodeo,” said Larsen.

  “He’s going to fit right in,” said Rich.

  “Not interested, if that’s a job offer,” said Larsen, stepping out of the cornstalks.

  “We’re always hiring.”

  “I bet,” said Larsen.

  The helicopter sat directly ahead of him, its details masked by the swirl of debris kicked up by its rotor downwash. Not wanting to get shredded by its tail rotor, he took Rico’s advice and headed left, following the edge of the flattened field until he reached Ragan.

  “You sure about this?” she said.

  “No,” said Larsen. “But it sounds like the only chance anyone will get at exposing these people.”

  “I hope you’re right,” she said before taking off for the helicopter.

  “Me too,” he said, not that it mattered at this point.

  If he didn’t get on that helicopter, the Apaches would most likely send him a thirty-millimeter high-explosive retirement package. With that cheery thought in mind, Larsen engaged the safety on his rifle and followed Ragan to the Black Hawk.

  Chapter 17

  Thirteen minutes into the flight, Ecker felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned to see the crew chief offering him one of the helicopter’s internally wired headsets.

  “Mission commander!” the crew chief yelled over the cabin noise.

  A quick glance at Rich betrayed no reaction, even though they both knew that this wasn’t a good sign. Not this close to the airport. He removed his helmet and donned the headset, catching a concerned look from Larsen.

  “This is Ecker,” he said, triggering the squad radio transmitter at the same time so Rich and his team could hear his side of the conversation.

  “Mr. Ecker, the lead flight medic wants to know if you gave Archer morphine.”

  “Negative. She was offered morphine and refused,” said Ecker. “She was adamant about it.”

  “Is it possible she dosed herself?” said the mission commander.

  Rich’s eyes flicked in his direction. If the medics confirmed she was drugged up, they were screwed. Just the fact that they suspected it could put an end to the mission. All they needed was a few more minutes. Once the helicopters touched down, Rich’s team was in business.

  “Negative. She couldn’t roll over on her own to access her Individual First Aid Kit (IFAK), and even if she could reach it, I don’t see how she could have prepped the syrette with one hand. I would have seen her try,” said Ecker, not sure if that was enough. “I’m pretty sure I would have noticed.”

  “Was she in your sight the entire time?”

  “Negative. I left her to set perimeter security,” said Ecker. “My medic was nearby. Do you want me to confirm with him?”

  “Affirmative,” said the mission commander. “If we can’t revive her by the time we reach the airport, I have to report that she’s incapacitated and unable to carry out her duties.”

  “Understood,” said Ecker, turning to Rico. “Was she ever out of your sight while I was setting the perimeter?”

  “It’s possible. You’re not sure,” mumbled Rich over the squad net, coaching the operative.

  Rico shook his head. “It’s possible. I’m not sure.”

  Ecker looked at the city skyline through the open troop compartment door, guessing by its position and distance that the helicopter was less than a minute from arriving. He counted to five before reporting to the mission commander.

  “My medic can’t say for sure,” said Ecker.

  “It doesn’t look like she administered morphine. Her IFAK is intact,” said the mission commander. “Given her condition and the number of casualties your team suffered, I’m going to recommend that we divert to Grissom. They can send a replacement group to continue operations or shut it down.”

  “That’s not going to work,” said Rich, pretending to rub his face.

  He was right. Security at Grissom was extremely tight. Six rogue operators wouldn’t get very far once they landed at the Midwest Region headquarters.

  “I should brief the security team in place at the airport,” said Ecker. “Won’t take more than a minute.”

  “Can’t you brief them from here?” said the mission commander.

  “Archer is the only person at that base with external communications capability,” said Ecker. “It’s built into her CTAB.”

  “I still need to report that she’s incapacitated.”

  “We’ll be back in the air by the time you get a response,” said Ecker. “They might want us to just clear Archer’s office and bring it with us. There’s some sensitive equipment inside. Not much, so it won’t take long.”

  “I’ll recommend that course of action,” said the mission commander. “Don’t be long out there.”

  “I won’t,” said Ecker, removing the headset and handing it back to the crew chief. “How far out are we?”

  “Less than a minute,” he said, returning to his seat near the gunners.

  “Copy. Less than a minute,” repeated Ecker, making sure everyone heard the update.

  The main airport terminal suddenly came into view through the port-side
door; its gates devoid of aircraft. The passenger terminal had ceased to serve any purpose at this point. All of Indianapolis International Airport’s activity took place at the hangars and tarmacs outside of the main runways.

  “Thirty seconds!” yelled the crew chief.

  Ecker gave the crew chief a thumbs-up.

  “What’s the plan?” said Rich.

  “I’m gonna run over and brief the hangar security team,” said Ecker. “Sit tight for further instructions. We may be heading back to Grissom right away.”

  “We’ll be here,” said Rich.

  That little exchange was for the benefit of the two Ajax operators sitting among them. Ecker had no idea what Rich planned to do when the wheels touched down, but he wanted to get clear of the helicopter before they started.

  The helicopter started a shallow descent immediately after they passed the main passenger terminal, the north runway passing underneath as the Black Hawk drew closer to the Metro Air Services tarmac. He hadn’t seen the medevac helicopter, so he assumed it was directly ahead of them, where it had been for the entire flight.

  Less than fifty feet above the tarmac, the helicopter slowed and yawed right until the hangar was directly off their left side, roughly twenty-five yards away. Ecker thought they might be leaving, until the Black Hawk started to drift gently downward. He barely felt the landing gear touch the tarmac.

  “You’re clear to approach the hangar!” yelled the crew chief.

  Ecker reluctantly got up, feeling sick to his stomach, and made his way to the left cargo hatch. He paused for a second before hopping onto the asphalt and jogging toward the two sentries guarding the single authorized access point to the hangar. A third guard stood toward the northeast corner of the two-story concrete slab structure, smoking a cigarette. He didn’t seem particularly interested or alert. The other guards were out of sight, patrolling the other three sides of the building.

  A rapid series of barely audible snaps competed with the rotor and engine noise. He looked over his shoulder to see three figures jump out of the opposite side cargo door and disappear behind the helicopter. The crew gunner that should be facing the hangar was nowhere to be seen through the minigun station hatch. Inside the crew compartment, four figures remained stationary, one of them pointing a rifle in his direction.

  “Look forward,” said Larsen. “Don’t draw any attention.”

  “I think we’re past that point,” said Ecker.

  “Not after what I just saw,” said Larsen. “Rich and his people are really good at what they do.”

  One of the guards nodded at him and smiled. The other watched the helicopters, his face noncommittal. Ecker really hoped they didn’t ask him to shoot these two. They were as good as dead when the helicopter landed, but that didn’t make this right. Like Valkyrie group, they were just doing a job—unaware of the bigger picture.

  He hated himself right now, but what other choice did he have? He never signed up to be a part of some genocidal conspiracy to kill millions of Americans. For all he knew, Ajax and the “colonel” planned on flushing Valkyrie down the toilet once all of the dirty work was finished. Then again—did he really believe what Rich and Larsen were saying?

  It didn’t matter at this point. His team was dead, through no fault of his own, and only one road definitely led back to his family. He eased his hand down to the grip of his rifle and steeled himself for what had to be done.

  “Back already?” yelled the guard.

  “Yeah! We’re probably headed right back out,” he said, slowing his pace to give Rich more time.

  His body tensed, waiting for the order to take out the guards. He hadn’t discussed this part of the plan with Rich or Larsen, but just assumed it was expected.

  “We’re finished with the medevac,” said Rich.

  Ecker brought the rifle up slowly, flipping the selector switch one click to semiautomatic. Neither of the guards in front of him showed any sign that they knew what was about to happen. He wasn’t a religious man, but he mumbled a prayer as he shouldered the rifle. Their expressions changed instantly.

  Before he could press the trigger, both of the security officers’ heads snapped back, red holes appearing on their faces—blood spraying out of the bottoms of their helmets. They crumpled to the tarmac in lifeless heaps, one of them tipping backward and hitting the door with his helmet. Fuck. Just like that.

  He turned to face the helicopter, seeing Ragan and Larsen crouched on opposite sides of the door, their rifles lowered. The men that had been seated next to them seconds ago had slumped to the floor of the troop compartment. Larsen gave him a quick nod, looking down the front of the hangar.

  Shit. Ecker followed his glance, seeing that the third guard was still standing. Rich’s team hadn’t noticed him.

  “I have a third guard at the northeast corner of the building,” said Ecker.

  “Everyone pitches in on this one,” said Rich. “We already did the hard work for you.”

  “Copy that,” said Ecker, turning to face the third guard, who had just seemed to take notice of the problem at the entrance.

  “Any time,” said Rich.

  He centered his rifle’s ACOG reticle high on the man’s chest, right below the neck, and pressed the trigger, knocking him backward in a spray of blood. Before the guard hit the ground, he had reacquired the man through the scope, assessing the necessity of a second shot. A geyser of blood pumped repeatedly into the air above the guard’s squirming body, convincing him a second bullet would not be required. Based on the volume of blood spray, he’d hit one of the man’s common carotid or subclavian arteries. He’d be gone in seconds, his body shutting down from shock and blood loss.

  “I want to be on the road fast,” said Rich.

  “Copy that,” said Ecker. “Archer has the key to open the door. I’ll need that.”

  “We’ll bring her to you. She’s coming with us, anyway,” said Rich.

  He didn’t want to know what they were going to do with her. Didn’t care, actually. Not after the past forty-eight hours. As long as they let him go after he provided them with information about what he’d seen at Grissom National Air Reserve Base, they could have her.

  Chapter 18

  Rich paused outside the door to the hangar, hesitant to enter, like he was about to step onto hallowed ground. They’d been hunting down these traitors for the better part of a decade now, somehow never managing to cut off the head of the right snake—before the conspiracy evolved. It had all started with Islamic extremists and a disgruntled, mentally warped Russian scientist, somehow ending up in the hands of a private army assembled right here, under everyone’s noses.

  The conspiracy had been designed from the beginning to shed layers, deliver false leads and offer up sacrifices. All controlled by devilish puppet masters with a ton of patience. Enough to convince his boss, the most stalwart skeptic, that the threat had been neutralized once and for all. Millions of Americans would die over the course of the next several weeks as a result.

  The contents of this hangar represented the first major breakthrough in their latest hunt for the original snake behind everything, so he treated it with a moment of reverence.

  “What are you waiting for?” said Jeff, dropping the last guard’s body on the concrete floor next to Archer.

  “I don’t know,” said Rich. “It’s almost too good to be true.”

  “Don’t get too excited,” said Jeff. “Ajax likes to compartmentalize.”

  “I thought you guys were in a hurry?” said Ecker, who was already inside.

  Rich stepped into the air-conditioned hangar, the sweat on his face cooling him down instantly. Jeff was already headed toward the vehicles Ecker had promised would be here.

  “Jackpot!” said Jeff. “These should come in handy.”

  Rich glanced at the two rows of unmarked, up-armored HUMVEEs, nodding his approval. What he saw beyond the HUMVEEs made him even happier.

  “Very handy,” said Rich. “Same with th
e fuel trucks.”

  “I didn’t realize we had a pilot,” said Jeff.

  “We don’t,” said Rich. “I have a different idea. A way to cover our tracks—for a while at least.”

  “You’re going to blow this place sky-high,” stated Ecker.

  Rich smirked. “I’m sure as shit gonna try. Take the other helicopters with it if possible. Burn it all up.”

  “Are you sure you want to attract that much attention?” said Ecker.

  “I’d rather they have to sort through a bunch of charred-up wreckage for several hours than find two perfectly intact helicopters filled with head-shot victims.”

  “Good point,” said Ecker. “The office is over here.”

  “One second,” said Rich, turning around. “Jeff, get some explosives on the fuel truck and the helicopter fuel tanks. We’ll drive one of the trucks between the Black Hawks. Leave the other one in the hangar. Set the whole thing off after we’re clear. It won’t hold up to a forensics investigation, but we just need to buy enough time to get to the next step.”

  “I’m on it,” said Jeff.

  “What is that next step?” said Ecker.

  “I honestly don’t know, but I’d like to visit Grissom Air Base,” said Rich, tearing the CTAB off Archer’s thigh. “Eric, what’s your status?”

  “Approaching the northwest side of the hangar. Still no sign of the final security patrol. I’m beginning to wonder if they didn’t find a way into the terminal area.”

  “Find them, and neutralize them immediately,” said Rich. “We can’t afford any surprises, and we’re not leaving witnesses.”

  “Got it,” said Larsen.

  “Rico!” said Rich.

  The operative stepped through the hangar door. “What?”

  “I need your medical kit ASAP,” said Rich. “Disable any form of GPS or radio tracking on two of the HUMVEEs; then help Jeff with the explosives.”