The Vagabonds (The Code of War Book 4)

by Jim Roberts

  “You’re spookin’ the tarantulas, kid,” Brick said, tossing the gum to the ground.

  Rabbit and Buddy smiled at each other as Gator was browbeaten by his superior’s disdainful gesture.

  Brick finished up his check of the facility, then turned to his team, “The place is dead. Saw maybe two workers. Let’s move on.”

  The next four targets of Sledge’s Industrial park were equally as dull as the first. We can’t be totally wrong about this guy, can we? Brick thought to himself. Everything seemed to click. Sledge had the resources to entice Olympus.

  Could Lennox and his Vagabonds have been mistaken?

  * * *

  BRICK HAD led the team another kilometer or so through a lower section of the jungle when he heard a sound from atop the ridgeline above them. Immediately he shot his arm out to signal his people to get down. The Peacemakers hit the dirt, weapons at the ready for whatever was coming.

  A lurching, mechanical sound—wholly unnatural amidst the ambient wildlife of the forest—was coming from the ridgeline. Brick inched his way up the crest, keeping his head down as he peered over the ridge for a better view.

  A large walking automaton, the size of a draft horse, was lurching across the forest floor. Its boxy, olive-colored form was laden with weaponry, notably a mean-looking autocannon mounted on its shoulder extremity. A tiny head that reminded Brick of a lawn sprinkler twitched in various directions as it lumbered over the uneven ground.

  Brick moved back down to speak to his squad.

  Rabbit spoke as loud as she dared over the rain, “What is it, Lieutenant?”

  “Bipedal Walker Drone.”

  “You mean like an Olympus Cerberus?” Gator asked, his face serious for a change.

  “No, I’ve never seen these before. Olympus drones are obsidian and they don’t utilize camouflage.”

  “Then whose machine is it?” Buddy asked, clutching his SCAR close. His nose was beet red from the cool rain, giving the man a comical look amidst the tense situation.

  “This Sledge wanker is a drone A.I. expert,” Brick answered, “I’d be ready to wager dollars to doughnuts it’s his.”

  Not wishing to press their luck, Brick and his team held their position for several minutes, keeping their ears and eyes out. The drone clumped around above them for a time, before taking off toward the west. Once it had gone, Brick and his team bolted from their positions and continued south, eyes out. Moving as one, the four Peacemakers—making good use of the surrounding palmetto growth—worked their way back to the tree line that stretched alongside Sledge’s factories. Brick brought the team up a short rise that gave them a decent view of the final location on Brick’s sightseeing tour: a converted machine factory.

  Binoculars up, Brick searched the area. The factory grounds were quiet, save for some workers in fluorescent clothing milling about in front of the large factory.

  Lowering the binocs, Brick sighed. So far this trip had been one long bust. It had been an educated hunch, but without visual proof of Sledge’s guilt, their hypothesis could not be confirmed.

  Brick was about to contact Packrat for a pickup when an all-too-familiar sound overhead grabbed his attention.

  Rabbit looked up from her perch and spoke, “Hyperion VTOLs, sir. I count two—no, three, coming in from the east.”

  Brick glared across the flatland beyond the tree line and watched as the trio of Hyperions set themselves down in the work yard of the machine factory. A group of armed men exited from a side door of the factory and came to meet their visitors.

  “Looks like you were right, LT,” Gator remarked, clutching his rifle tight.

  Brick increased the zoom on his binoculars for a better look. He saw each Hyperion deposit roughly a dozen Centurions—heavily armed and armored—onto the work yard. Heedless of the pouring rain, the dark troopers stood to attention as if on a parade ground.

  Beside Brick, Gator had his own binoculars up. “Hot damn, check out the lady on your nine, LT.”

  Brick adjusted his view to the left and saw what Gator was talking about. A stunningly beautiful blonde, clad in a form-fitting obsidian combat suit, exited her Hyperion and joined the group of PMC soldiers.

  Specialist Buddy peered over Gator’s shoulder and whistled quietly, “Whew. God made blondes like that to tempt the good.”

  “I prefer redheads, myself,” Brick said. Off to his side, Rabbit stifled a smile.

  “Ever see her before, LT?” Gator asked.

  “Nope. Don’t think she’s a Tribune. Maybe someone higher up.”

  He continued scanning the rest of the work yard. He noted several more lumbering drones in the woods beyond. Sledge was smart. He kept the drones out of sight, but able to act on any breach of security within a moment’s notice.

  The sound of engines off to the left pulled Brick’s focus away to see a series of large Peterbilt semi trucks heading to the facility. All of the trucks pulled empty trailers behind them. At least a dozen of the vehicles piled into the staging area in front of Sledge’s factory.

  What the hell is this?

  Brick scanned back to the blonde woman, who was now meeting with a group of factory workers. After a brief minute of conferring with the men, she gave a few swift orders to the Centurions, who broke off to various positions around the compound. Finishing her tour, she boarded back into the nearest Hyperion. A moment later, it took off, veering back toward the east.

  An incredulous grin spread across Brick’s face, “Well if that don’t just take the piss. The General was right; Sledge is working with Olympus.”

  Gator was about to pop another stick of gum in his mouth when he noticed Brick looking at him.

  “Hand that over,” Brick said.

  “It’s my last piece.”

  Brick raised an eyebrow. Gator sighed and handed the gum to his CO. The Lieutenant unwrapped it and popped it in his mouth. “Looks like we hit the monkey square in the bullocks, boys and girls,” he said, packing the binoculars into his rucksack.

  “What’s the game plan, LT?” Rabbit asked, wiping away the water collecting in her collar.

  “Hold on,” Brick activated his comm unit and said, “Mother Hen, this is Bravo One, come in, over?”

  There was a brief silence before the calm voice of Headcase came over the line, “This is Mother Hen, go ahead Bravo One, over.”

  “Looks like our instincts were on target here. Is Eagle Commander nearby, over?”

  “Yes, Bravo One, hold on a minute.”

  There was a sound of equipment changing hands on the other end. In a moment, the gruff voice of General Walsh came over the line.

  “This is Eagle Commander, I’m reading you Bravo One. What’s your sitrep?”

  “We’ve got beaucoup Olympus wankers piling into the Sledge Dynamics machine yard exactly…” he checked the map on his PDA, “…twenty clicks south-southwest of Puerto Cabello. They have a small army of semis here, lookin’ like they’re preparing to begin loading something. We’ve eyed multiple bipedal walker drones guarding the area, over.”

  “Good job, Bravo One. Lennox was onto something here. I’m going to confer with the Navy brass about a possible strike against the facility, over.”

  An idea hit Brick as he mulled over the command. He decided to run it by the General, “Begging your pardon, sir, but maybe we should inform the Alpha Team first. Joe might be able to use this info as a bargaining chip with Lennox if the man’s still alive—”

  “We’ve lost contact with Alpha Team, Bravo One. The last time we heard from Braddock’s Unit was two hours ago.”

  Brick felt a creeping sensation moving up his back and he hoped it was only a beetle, “What are your orders, Eagle Command?”

  “Sit tight, for now, Alpha One. Gather as much intel on the location as possible, but stay hidden. We’ll get back to you within the hour on a plan of action, over.”

  Brick signed off. He looked at the eager faces of his squad and said, “Looks like we’re hunkerin’ do
wn in the muck for a while. Hope you guys brought your watertight skivvies.”

  The three Peacemakers collectively groaned. Brick ordered them onward. He wanted to mark the locations of the patrolling drones, so as to be prepared if and when it came time to attack.

  He was worried about Joe and the others. Their mission to locate Lennox had always been a long shot, but it appeared now that the Vagabond Commander had been on the up and up about figuring out Olympus’s true aim in Venezuela. He could only hope that wherever Joe was, he’d found the Vagabonds and managed to stay safe.

  After all, Venezuela played for keeps these days. There was only so much a good soldier could do to survive in a place like this.

  * * *

  Apure Province, Venezuela, October 6th

  THE GREAT storm clouds continued to drench the group as they hiked along the narrow path—pelting them with rain to the point that Joe Braddock felt he may as well be underwater. Still, as opposed to the brutal heat back in the ravine, the drenching rains were far more welcome.

  Too bad he couldn’t say the same for their companions.

  He tried to find a way to loosen the zip ties holding his wrists together in front of him. After escaping Fausta’s fiery hellstorm, Joe, and his motley crew, had been trussed up by their would-be rescuers and herded along like cattle. Both Agrippina and Walker had been restrained, despite the latter’s objections. The gunrunner tried to explain who he was, but it made little difference to the impassive Vagabonds. Joe was surprised they restrained Agrippina, though. The assassin simply told Braddock to do as they said and not resist.

  Krieger, on the other hand, did not like the idea of going without a fight. The big Russian had sworn the first one to try and tie him up would lose an arm. He was mostly true to his word. The first Vagabond that touched him ended up with a broken wrist and Krieger was rewarded for that with a rifle butt to the head. Momentarily humbled, Krieger had gone along quietly, though Joe could see the big Russian was looking for any means of escape.

  It broke Joe’s heart to leave Husker and Petrol behind. He fully intended to either return at a later time to collect the bodies or perhaps convince his captors to do it. But one look at the armed mercenaries trudging along with them told Joe his bargaining powers would probably be of minimal use here.

  They had traveled for nearly two hours. After they’d passed the umpteenth mangrove swamp, Joe had enough of the silent treatment and decided to get some answers from their hosts.

  “How much further is it?”

  He got no reply from the stern soldiers. He kept trying.

  “Are you taking us to Lennox? Leo Lennox? Is he alive?”

  There was no reaction to his questions. Agrippina walked past him, muttering as she did, “Save your breath, Braddock. They don’t trust you.”

  “Well, why did they tie you up too?”

  “They don’t trust me either. Would you?”

  Joe scoffed, “Good point.”

  It was another half an hour of walking through the cascading rain before the gray storm clouds finally began to let up. The rain ebbed away little by little before stopping altogether. The trees were still too thick for Braddock to see anything past twenty feet or so. After another ten minutes, he began to hear sounds up ahead. The treetop canopy was too dense to see anything above them, but Joe knew an aircraft engine when he heard one.

  And then, almost all at once, the rainforest gave way to a massive clearcut area.

  Joe’s jaw dropped at the sight that awaited them.

  Spreading out nearly five-hundred feet straight ahead was a fully paved airstrip. A collection of two dozen or so helicopter-style craft Joe had never seen before were parked along the runway, half covered with tarps. And beyond that, at the far end of the strip, was an ancient looking stone building—a monolith rising up from the greenery surrounding it. Joe spotted a crumbling crucifix at the top of one of the steeples.

  Joe looked at Walker and asked, “What is this place?”

  “This is the Vagabond’s home in Venezuela, Braddock,” Walker replied, still annoyed at being tied up, “That structure down yonder is an ancient Spanish mission, Santa Maria de Itapua. Several miles past, the jungle ends and you’ll find a rock quarry the missionaries used to build the temple.”

  Joe noticed something odd about the sky above. There was some sort of thin covering stretched across the entire area. Squinting in the vanishing sunlight, Joe could see it was some sort of translucent netting. He noticed tall poles planted across the area where the net was spread through.

  “What’s that net for?” Krieger asked.

  Walker looked up. “It’s something Lennox designed. Ever hear of phased array optics?”

  “You mean like the shroud that Orchid’s suit uses?” Joe replied.

  “Not really, this is far more advanced,” Walker gestured up at the net with his tied hands, “It’s made up of millions of tiny waterproof cameras that use computational holography to produce a three-dimensional image. Above the netting, any aircraft or satellite looking down would simply see an extension of the forest canopy. Whenever they need to fly an aircraft on a mission, a pulley system folds the netting back. It’s the Vagabond’s primary means of camouflage.”

  Joe was astonished by what he saw.

  Their Vagabond minders took the team across the tarmac, heading straight for the stone temple. Joe saw several surplus tents set up along the stretch of pavement where beyond, the jungle stretched ad infinitum. Large portable generators lined the area. A multitude of pre-fab military shelters sat in rows along the airstrip. Men and women dressed in odd Vagabond uniforms worked on various low-key tasks, eyeing the group suspiciously as they marched past.

  “Impressed, Braddock?” Agrippina said, noticing the awed look on his face.

  “I’ve never seen anything like this,” Joe replied, “All under the eyes of the Venezuelan government and Olympus. This is why no one could find the Vagabonds.”

  “There are several of these locations around the world,” Agrippina said, trying to wring the rainwater from her long hair with her hands tied, “The Vagabonds are true to their name. They have no home or creed. They follow Olympus around the globe, aiding those who stand against the PMC.”

  As they neared the temple, the lead Vagabond raised a hand, bringing the group to a stop. Reaching up to clasp the balaclava, the merc yanked the garment off.

  The face of a strong, square-jawed woman looked upon them.

  Joe was mildly surprised. The bulky equipment perfectly hid the fact that it had been a woman leading them. Her blue eyes were cold like icy sapphires. A black tattoo slunk up from below her collar and up her neck. Her dirty blonde hair was kept high in a bun, adding to her severe appearance.

  She spoke to them, her voice stern and commanding, “Apologies for the restraints. We had orders not to accept anyone past the edge of the HQ without them.” She made a signal to her other teammates, who produced small knives to cut the zip ties from the team’s wrists.

  “Why tie up Agrippina or Walker?” Joe asked, rubbing his sore wrists, “Aren’t they part of your little operation?”

  The woman fixed the shabby looking arms merchant with a narrow gaze. “Curtis Walker is lucky the Commander gives him the time of day. Our orders were to bind all who were with you, Joe Braddock. That includes our assassin friend here.”

  Agrippina held out her hand to the Vagabond soldier carrying their weapons. The soldier handed Agrippina her twin wakizashi blades. Agrippina strapped them onto her back, saying as she did, “It’s good to see you too, Caedra.”

  The woman called Caedra gave the Olympus harpy a long, penetrating look. “I must admit, I didn’t expect to see you again. I half expected you to die when you tried to steal the Code from the Peacemakers.”

  “Happy to disappoint you.”

  Krieger leaned in to whisper in Joe’s ear, “Do you think this Caedra is looking for boyfriend? Tall and athletic—my type.”

  Braddock slamme
d an elbow into the Russian’s ribs. “Look, we’ve come a long way,” Joe said, “Agrippina told us that Lennox has promised us information—information only he can give. Where can we find him?”

  “Where else? At the mission.” Caedra jerked a thumb toward the temple behind her. “He’s been wanting to meet you, Joe Braddock.”

  “Good. Take us to him.”

  “Sorry,” Caedra said, holding up a hand, “Just you and Agrippina for now.”

  Krieger snarled, “I’m not letting my friend out of my sight. I go with him.”

  Walker put a hand on Krieger’s arm, “We need to do what they say, Alexei. They’re not going to hurt him.”

  Braddock looked back at the Russian and said, “It’s okay, big guy, I’ll be fine.” He looked at Caedra and asked, “Is there somewhere they can go to dry off and get some food and water?”

  Caedra nodded. “They can get comfortable at the mess unit over there,” she said, pointing at a large pre-fab structure across the way. “You can join them after you’ve spoken to Lennox. We’ll have a first aid kit waiting too.”

  “Thanks,” Joe said, sarcastically, “Better late than never.”

  Caedra gave Joe a half-smile. “Go on. The Commander is through the door.”

  Taking a deep breath, Joe headed toward the temple with Agrippina following behind him. His heart began to race. He was about to get answers to questions plaguing him and his team for over two long years. Emotions raged within him as he reflected on all he’d sacrificed to get here; being forced to fight over a miserable piece of technology with little understanding as to why it was important. Searching the world for his best friend—his battle brother, all the while never knowing if he was even alive.

  Those questions would be answered today.

  Their Vagabond escort led them up to the mission temple. As Joe reached to open the front door, Agrippina slammed her hand against the wood, stopping him.

  “Are you ready for this Braddock? People would kill for the things this man knows. Are you sure this is what you want?”