***
Milo came to, noticing the gas mask first. Avondale and Ebony were already awake and moving about. He could see them in the next room checking on their colleagues. The second thing he noticed was that his handcuffs had been removed. Daniel’s too. The programmer frowned and muttered something inaudible. Milo felt along the edge of the mask and switched on the two-way radio, then repeated the action on Daniel’s mask.
“…wife?” Daniel said.
“Say again?” Milo said.
“I’m worried about Annie.”
“As long as she stays with the vehicle, she’ll be fine.”
“If the Black Skulls tracked us, though…” Daniel left his question hanging. His eyes were wide, the whites shining bright.
Milo grasped his shoulder. “I’ll tell you something my drill sergeant told me. Take care of your safety first, then your squad’s. The Black Skulls are after us and LK3, not Annie. As soon as we’re safe, I’ll personally go and get her.”
His words appeared to calm the programmer and Milo helped him to his feet. Together, they headed into the control room. Milo was impressed with the setup. Against one wall were three groupings of eight monitors each. Behind the monitor station was a desk filled with radio equipment. Long and short range. Some, Milo didn’t recognize.
Ebony adjusted her mask. “What was that gas?”
“It’s called X4. A powerful knockout agent. OPIS developed it for infiltration. Render the occupant’s unconscious, leaving us free to disable the doors and come in,” Milo said.
“Through the front door, I suppose?”
“Yes. I recommend we set them a trap. They’ll have three fire teams of three commandos each. Is there a back entrance hidden somewhere?”
“Naturally,” Ebony said. “How will they come in?”
“Using a special gel developed by OPIS. It eats through metal, destroying the hinges.”
Ebony gave Milo his weapons back. “You and I are going to take care of your friends.” She turned to Daniel and pushed a laptop toward him. “Avondale will get you set up. Do what you have to.”
Milo smiled at Ebony and again wondered why she had been less affected by the X4. He shrugged and checked the magazine before following her from the control room.
The silo’s main entrance consisted of two doors. One led into the garage and workshop, while a second much thicker set of doors led to the silo’s nerve center.
“We can’t let them get past us. Understood?” Milo said.
“Understood,” Ebony said.
“It’s vital.”
“I understand,” she repeated, her eyes flaring for a moment.
Milo stared at Ebony, trying to read her body language, but she showed no emotions other than her squinting eyes. Satisfied, he refocused on the entrance.
Just as he’d predicted, the Black Skulls used acid gel to melt away the hinges and kicked in the door. But this was where their plan failed. Not only had they presumed everyone was unconscious from the X4 gas, they had also created a bottleneck, a small opening with nowhere to hide.
The door hit the concrete with a clank. Milo and Ebony, hiding to the sides, opened fire. Milo shot each target methodically: one to the chest, adjust aim, one through the head. In the first ten seconds, four commandos were dispatched before they knew what was going on. Ebony killed another and, to Milo’s surprise, threw down her M4. She bolted from her hiding place and ran at the last Black Skull. He swiveled and fired. Each bullet hit Ebony, but she ignored them. She ducked under the commando’s swinging arm and throat-punched him with a vicious jab.
Nanites or not, a blow like that was going to incapacitate anyone. Milo watched, fascinated, unable to tear his eyes away. Ebony tore off his helmet. Milo ran forward. It was Gabe.
“Wait!” Milo said.
Gabe’s eyes were bulging as he sucked in shallow breaths.
“Why?” Ebony said.
“He’s a friend.”
“Yet he attacked us?”
Milo struggled to find words. Ebony was right. Gabe may have saved him in the past, but clearly his mission was to take out LK3.
He grabbed Gabe’s taser and zapped him in the neck. The big man convulsed and went rigid, spasming as he sank to the floor. Milo zapped him a couple more times. Together, he and Ebony stripped Gabe of his weapons, bound him with cable ties and shoved him into a storage cupboard.
“Do a sweep. There should be four more.”
Ebony backed an SUV over to the now-open doors, blocking the entrance. Seconds later and on foot, they were in the forest, scanning the vicinity using thermal imaging. Nothing moved apart from the owls and possums in the canopy above them.
Milo wracked his brain. He had trained these men. They wouldn’t all attack at once. “Where’s the back entrance?”
“It comes out next to the reservoir, half a kilometer away.”
“Smart. That’s where they’ll be. Standard procedure is to split the teams, with one team flushing out the occupants and the other killing or capturing.”
Ebony flashed him a quick smile and led him deeper into the woods, toward the mountains to the east. The trees were thicker here, and untouched. Moss and lichen clung to the bark and dead branches, and needles coated the forest floor. Animal trails forked off in all directions. Large boulders and craggy outcrops of granite pushed up through the musty earth.
Ebony used her thermal camera to check for hostiles before sliding down into a dry riverbed. Milo followed her and they headed toward a small reservoir.
They cleared the trees and spotted four Black Skulls positioned on either side of a storm drain. They’d covered most of their bodies with a reflective cover of some sort. But three of them were vaping, clouds of nicotine mist billowing above their heads.
“Not exactly stealthy,” Ebony said.
“Arrogance can breed complacency in even the best of us,” Milo said quietly, sitting below the small berm. “You can train people all you like. Instill traits and habits. But once you reach the top, arrogance creeps in.” He shouldered his HK416. “Two each?”
“I’ve got this,” Ebony said.
“By yourself?”
“Watch and learn.”
Milo sighed. He was done arguing.
Ebony crept away. She reappeared a few minutes later, a blur of red, and descended on the four men. In less than ten seconds, she had punched them, kicked them, and twisted each of their necks.
Milo had suspected such skill when he had fought her back at the safe house, and now he was seeing it first-hand, he was gladder than ever that he had fled.
“Will there be any more?” Ebony said when she reappeared.
“Not usually, but something’s not right.”
A thought niggled at the back of Milo’s brain, a survival instinct that had kept him alive more times than he cared to remember. He wracked his brain, running through the Black Skulls’ tactics. Offenheim had ordered LK3 neutralized, and all he sent was ten men?
Then realization hit him. He jolted his head up, then side to side, searching for cover.
“Go! Run!” Milo screamed, grabbing Ebony’s arm and pulling her toward the escape tunnel as missiles from drones exploded in the forest. One after the other detonated and shook the ground, sending pieces of wood and shards of rock flying through the air.
Ebony and Milo sprinted for the tunnel with superhuman speed, dodging around boulders and rotting logs. Another strike smashed into the forest, sending trees splintering. Milo ducked and dived into the tunnel entrance. He rolled over, searching for Ebony. He spotted her twisted body ten meters away, a small sapling piercing her side. Risking his own safety, he dashed from his shelter and snapped the tree off so that only a fraction of it remained. Ebony screamed as he lifted her over his shoulder and jogged back to the tunnel. He propped her against the door and grasped her hand. “I have to pull it out so you heal. There’s a risk you’ll bleed out.”
Ebony growled, “Do it.”
Milo didn�
��t hesitate. He yanked out the remaining piece of tree and immediately applied pressure to the gaping wound.
And as quickly as the drone strikes had started, they’d stopped. Dozens of small fires raged, the air now heavy with smoke and ash.
“Ebony. Please tell me you’re okay?” Avondale said.
Ebony squirmed and nudged her comms. “Alive, thanks to Milo. Black Skulls dealt with.”
“Oh, thank God. The Nameless are in position. Mission is a go.”
“Copy that.”
Ebony sat up and ran her fingers over the wound, now fresh with pink skin. “You keep surprising me.”
“How so?”
“I thought you would have left me there to die.”
“I admit, the old me would have. I meant what I told you before. I have much to atone for. Stopping OPIS is top of the list… Shit.” Milo jumped up. “Annie! I have to go.”
“I’ll buy you a drink when you get back,” Ebony said.
“Deal,” Milo said.
She watched him with a lopsided grin.
Milo was beginning to like this woman. Fearless and quick-witted. He pivoted and, for the third time in as many days, trudged through the forest.
Thirty-Nine
The Eyrie, Sierra Nevada Mountains
When Victor Offenheim walked out onto the roof of The Eyrie it was lit up with floodlights like those normally seen in sports stadiums. Ryan was speechless. He tripped over what he was going to say and closed his mouth. Offenheim was dressed in a fine Italian silk suit, dark blue, with an ivory shirt that almost matched his skin, and a lime green tie. Not that garish lime green, more of a true lime, a royal green you see only on expensive clothing. He strode, back straight, proud. His cane was gone. Surrounding Offenheim were eight Black Skulls, weapons trained on Ryan, faces expressionless. The lead commando had muscles so big they looked comically out of proportion. And, grasped tightly in one of his massive arms, with a Glock shoved under her chin, was Cal.
She looked at Ryan with steely determination. “I’m sorry,” she mouthed.
Ryan gave her a flicker of a smile to reassure her and turned his head slightly to look at Booth’s body. Thick blood pooled from under his head. The nanites were powerful, but even they couldn’t repair the damage from a high caliber bullet and what it did to the nerve center. As Lahm had explained, too many neurons and electrical pulses to repair. Impossible at this stage.
Ryan shifted his feet and focused on Offenheim. The leader of OPIS was watching him, lips pursed.
“Poetic, don’t you think?” Offenheim said.
“In what way?” Ryan kept his eyes forward so he didn’t give away Sofia. She had done her part. She had given Avondale the chance to end this.
“Three years ago, almost to the day,” Offenheim said.
“Well, a month out, but carry on,” Ryan said.
Cal chuckled and wriggled in muscle-guy’s grasp. He tightened his grip until she stopped moving.
“As I was saying, I find this poetic. This whole situation. The first time I met the two of you in person, I was standing in this exact spot. On that day you did something unexpected, throwing yourself into the river.”
“I must say, Victor, your company wasn’t pleasant.”
“Always malapert, Connors. Did you really think your little plan to destroy this place would work?”
“We had to try. Without hope, we are nothing.”
“Ugh,” Offenheim muttered and rolled his eyes. He waited a second or two then snapped his fingers. “Leg,” he said.
The Black Skull nearest Offenheim shot Ryan in his left leg, just above the knee. Ryan gasped and tried to hide the searing pain. He didn’t want Offenheim to get pleasure from his sadistic game. Cal was pushed forward, then shoved to her knees. Ryan was similarly manhandled until they both knelt before Offenheim. He grinned at them and smoothed his left lapel as if there were a speck of dirt on it. He snapped his fingers again and a commando brought him a polished wooden box. Offenheim made a show of opening the box and extracting a handgun.
“I’m sure you’re familiar with this weapon. A Smith and Wesson Model 29 revolver. This is the model with the 8 ⅜ inch barrel made famous by Dirty Harry. In fact, this is the exact one used in the movie.”
“I thought you would have a Luger,” Cal said.
“I do, in my collection, but this weapon has better firepower. To make sure you two stay dead.”
“Killing us will achieve nothing,” Ryan said. “Your utopia plans will never work. So many before you have tried, and it always ends badly. The world needs both good and bad. Rich and poor.”
Ryan was confident that at least Sofia, Zanzi, Reid and Tilly had escaped this hellhole. The smoking ruin of Allie’s Black Hawk was still perched precariously on the plateau. He had no clue as to her whereabouts. They had risked everything to come here. Now it was going to end.
Ryan took Cal’s hand in his and squeezed. Maybe Offenheim was right. Maybe this was poetic. But at least he would die next to his wife, knowing they had caused OPIS damage.
Offenheim smiled. “You’re right. The world needs good and bad, rich and poor. Just not like this. We’ll win, Connors, because we’ve planned this for decades. I know of your friends and your allies. Drones are on their way to finish your little hideout next to HQ. It won’t be long now.”
Ryan flinched. He’d thought LK3 were safe in the silo. Who had ratted them out? Lahm?
Offenheim loaded the Magnum, spun the cylinder, then snapped it back in place. He moved around to stand behind Cal and placed the gun at the base of her skull.
Ryan closed his eyes, not wanting to see her death. Rough hands grabbed him and twisted his head around.
“Watch, Connors,” Offenheim barked.
Ryan shook his head. The same rough hands dug into his eyes and forced his eyelids open.
“Before you both die, I want you to know that we will track down your daughter and I’ll give her to the men as their plaything. Actually, no, I’m not going to do that. I’m going to give her to Killian. If you thought Alba was bad, I can assure you, Killian is worse.”
The man holding Ryan gasped, straightened, and released Ryan’s head to clutch his own. Out of the corner of his eyes, Ryan saw all the Black Skulls on the roof doing the same thing, a synchronized action followed by an agonizing howl. As one, they dropped their rifles and fell to their knees.
“What are you doing?” Offenheim yelled.
Ryan didn’t need a better opening. He drove his elbow into Offenheim’s crotch, earning a grunt of surprise. Then he pushed backward, rolled onto his back, and kicked out with both feet, catching Offenheim completely off guard. He hit the deck with a thud, dropping the Magnum. Cal grabbed the gun and pinned Offenheim down with a knee.
The Black Skulls were writhing in agony. Some had their limbs locked as their bodies convulsed and began to lose density, turning from pale ivory to gray and, finally, black. As the commandos crumbled around them, the screams from inside the building also died out.
Ryan blew out a loud breath, the relief washing over him like a cool swim on a hot day. LK3, The Nameless, Munroe, everyone had done their part. He looked over at Offenheim, squirming beneath Cal. It wasn’t over yet. If he were being honest, he’d never thought they would actually capture Victor Offenheim. He’d expected the leader of OPIS to either not be here or to have fled when the fighting began. Never had he been happier to be wrong.
“Will the rest of OPIS come after him?” Ryan said.
Cal hauled Offenheim to his knees, manhandling him by bunching his shirt collar in one fist and holding the Magnum with her other hand.
“Probably,” Cal said. “Or they’ll use the opportunity to take power.”
“Regardless, we take him with us.” Ryan pulled free a roll of duct tape he always carried. “Hold him still,” he said as Offenheim thrashed, trying to break free.
“Wait!” Offenheim yelled. “She’s lying to you, Connors.”
“Lying t
o me?”
“Your wife isn’t who she says she is,” Offenheim said, still struggling in Cal’s grasp. “She’s a Prendergast.”
“What?” Ryan paused, his hand frozen on the duct tape. Something stirred inside his brain, a hint or an instinct that had been nagging at his mind for the last couple of weeks. All the doubts and questions came flooding back.
Cal leveled the handgun at Offenheim and squeezed the trigger. The boom shocked Ryan more than the bloody mess. Offenheim pitched forward, a large chunk of his skull missing. Cal stood over him and pulled the trigger again, obliterating what was left. She turned back to Ryan and tossed the pistol off the roof.
“Cal! Is it true?”
She ignored him and stalked away. When she reached the door, she spun to face him. “It would be best if we leave now, while this place is still standing.”
Ryan frowned, his fatigued mind confused. “What the hell is going on?”
Cal said nothing and disappeared inside.
Ryan took a few steps and crouched next to Booth’s body. At least it was quick, old friend. He was struggling to comprehend all that had happened. Lisa, Booth, Kamal, Brock, and possibly Allie, dead.
She’s a Prendergast. Offenheim’s last words echoed in his mind. Was it true?
Booth’s eyes, open, stared up at a sky already turning orange as the new day was ushered in. Ryan ran his fingers over the lids, closing them, and kissed Booth’s forehead. “I’ll come back for you, give you the send-off you deserve,” Ryan whispered. “Thank you for always being there for me, even when I didn’t know I needed friendship.”
Ryan took spare magazines, gathered up his weapons and reloaded them. The Black Skulls’ ash remains sent a shiver up his spine. So much death caused by so few.
Cal was waiting for him in the stairwell. She silently led him down to the next floor and turned south toward the back of the building. She stopped at a bank of elevators and they rode the luxury car up to the penthouse without speaking.
Ryan had seen plenty of opulent residences over the years, thanks to his profession, but Offenheim’s was something else. Red and white marble-tiled floors, thick Turkish rugs, hand-painted French wallpaper, leather furniture, and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Sierra Nevada Mountains.
Masks of Ash Page 30