Olivia couldn’t hear his pleading screams, but she could see the look of fear on his face. Tendons and veins in his neck strained as his face reddened from the yelling.
“Wait,” she called out. A police officer had inserted a breaching tool into the edge of the door and looked toward her. Olivia shook her head and continued. “There’s something wrong.”
“What?” Chuck asked.
“He doesn’t want us to get in there. It’s a sealed room with an airlock. Think about it. Everyone out here is dead. Why not him?”
Chuck walked up to her and closed the distance in order not to yell across the room. “You said you didn't think it was gas."
“It doesn’t look like gas, but I could be wrong,” Olivia said.
Gabriel stood next to her and scratched his face absently. “We're alive, though.”
“Let's slow this down for a second. Gabe, can I have your notepad?”
“Sure.” He handed it to her with a pen.
Olivia scribbled on the small pad and spoke aloud. “Why can’t we come in?” She placed the paper against the glass, and the man leaned in and squinted to read it. Standing away, he scoured the room for something to write on. The sterile environment had a number of small tools on the bench top, including a flat-head screwdriver, which he spotted and snatched up before returning to the plastic glass.
Scratching on the clear plastic, he began writing. The letters looked confusing at first until Olivia realized she was reading it from the wrong side. They were backward to her.
NANOBOTS KILL COMMAND
Olivia flipped to another page and wrote again before pressing it to the transparent wall. “Did everyone here have the nanobots?”
The man nodded emphatically.
She scribbled again. “Why are you inside?”
He scratched on the Plexiglas again, gouging deep lines.
FARADAY CAGE SAFE
“What the hell is a faraday cage safe?” Chuck asked.
Olivia pulled out her phone as Gabriel called to the SWAT team to stand down and radio a medical team. Turning to Olivia, he eyed her as she called Jack. Her finger tapped on the speakerphone setting so everyone could hear.
The other end of the phone picked up, and she bombarded Jack with her question even before he spoke. “What’s a faraday cage safe?”
“Umm ... a faraday cage? Why are you asking?”
“Jack, just answer the damn question, and I’ll tell you.”
“It blocks signals from getting in or out. It’s usually made of copper or metal. Fine mesh. Any signals that cross it are captured like an antenna. Works well on hiding things like homing signals and stuff. Like how your microwave door has that annoying mesh in the glass, so you can't see if your food is boiling over, but you don’t get microwaved either.”
Olivia leaned in and closely inspected the glass. There was a fine copper mesh that she had missed while standing far back.
“Would it stop nanobots from getting through?”
“No. Why do you ask?”
“We found a guy inside a clear glass room, and he won’t come out. Everyone else is dead. It seems to be linked to the nanobots everyone here has. I think it's what has kept him alive.”
“It might be a broadcast. The first-gen nanobots were equipped with radio receivers so they could be programmed; they could, in theory, have been programmed to do something they were not intended to do, like kill their host. The first-gen bots were horrible and were used originally for soldiers to monitor their vital signs during battle. They stopped using them almost immediately after they started. They discovered that hacked electronic warfare signals could kill soldiers. This would be the reason everyone's dead.”
“We might need someone to consult with us on how to safely remove him from the room,” Gabriel asked. “Interested in lending a hand?”
“Sure, I’d be happy to help.”
“Come down to the Neotech building and chat with someone outside, tell them that you're our tech consultant.”
“Don’t you want to know my fee?”
“At this point, I’m not going to negotiate while a man’s life is at stake,” Gabriel stated.
“Sorry. I get it. I’ll be there in an hour or so,” Jack said and hung up. Olivia tucked the phone back into her pocket.
Gabe looked at Olivia. “Does this guy have the technical expertise to get our witness out of there?”
“He’s the smartest person I know,” she said.
“Let's get some timeline questions from him while he’s talking,” Chuck said. “Ask him when everyone died.”
Olivia wrote it down and pressed it against the wall.
4 PM I WAS INSIDE. EVERYONE DIED.
The scientist pointed to his watch and tapped his head, indicating that he realized what had happened.
Olivia held up a new message. “Did you see them?”
He nodded.
“Why did they do this?” she wrote.
TOOK BOX AND ANITA
“Dr. Sanders?”
He nodded back at Olivia, pointing to the chair and pantomiming a box sitting on the bench, connected to the chair.
“That’s not the box hooked up to that little girl, was it?”
“The one and only,” Olivia said.
“Who's Anita?” Gabriel asked.
“She was the one working on it before Dr. Gerrard decided to take things to the next level and use kids.”
Olivia watched the scientist pace.
“The only thing that confuses me is why Black Anvil had a team just hanging out. It doesn’t make sense.”
“The shelves looked pretty empty,” Chuck suggested. “Maybe they were clearing the place out.”
“Probably, but only four guys? Where were they taking it?”
“Have we checked the roof?” Olivia said.
“That was one of the first places we checked. There was a team waiting in the stairwell for the transport to land,” Gabe said.
“You should check in with your guys up there.”
Gabriel turned away and spoke into his radio. Even before he finished, the team in the room with them began moving toward the stairwell. Olivia watched him as radio reports came back. His face was awash with concern.
“There’s no word from the team on the roof,” Gabriel stated.
“I thought we got the all-clear?”
“We did.”
Olivia turned and ran to the elevator.
“Olivia, wait! Let them handle it!” Gabriel called out. He cursed, but she couldn't make out the words.
She called back over her shoulder as she charged into the tunnel. “They're going to need help. You stay here and babysit your witness if you want.”
The smell of burned gunpowder and blood still hung in the air as she pressed the “up” button on the bullet-riddled elevator.
The metal doors groaned open, objecting to the movement. Chuck stepped up next to her.
“Where do you think you're going?” Olivia said and moved inside, followed by the police officer. His handgun was drawn and by his side.
“Same place you are. These guys killed one of ours,” he said. “I’m not going to sit on the bench.”
“Suit yourself,” she said, punching the button for the top floor.
As the elevator ascended, she could hear the rattle of automatic fire and shifted herself to the side of the door for cover. Chuck followed suit across from her. It felt like the ascent was taking ten times as long as it should. Olivia’s heart rate increased, hammering against the inside of her ribs as the noise grew.
Raising the submachine gun and pulling it tight into her shoulder, she readied herself. The elevator dinged. A group of mercenaries stood only feet from the open doors. One paused briefly from his efforts firing at the SWAT team in the stairwell to look back and realize she and Chuck were not Black Anvil. The tattooed man spun and raised his rifle, but Olivia was quicker.
She pounded three rounds into his head and neck before stepping out
aggressively into the open. Firing two more into the next man's body, she cleared the immediate area. Staying low, she and Chuck worked through the last three men, who were still facing away, barricaded behind metal crates. Lead thundered out of the barrel of her weapon, taking advantage of the element of surprise.
She didn’t feel comfortable shooting a man in the back, but she knew that these men would happily have done the same to her. They had killed far too many people to be afforded mercy.
“All clear! Friendlies coming out, police!” Chuck yelled at the stairwell.
The SWAT team poured onto the floor, flowing outward and clearing corners. For a moment she felt eyes and weapons training on her. Olivia and Chuck kept their hands up as the men flowed around them.
One of the team leaders waved for them to stand, recognizing them as friendlies. "You're good. You can get up."
“Are these the only mercs?” Olivia asked.
“There's more on the roof," came an answer from beneath a balaclava. "We got hit in the stairwell. Some got out the roof door, the others got stuck and retreated onto this floor. Stairwell to the roof is locked. We're going to breach it next. Stay back and out of the way till we give the all-clear. They have the advantage.”
Olivia watched the men align themselves in a practiced manner against the wall of the hallway. She knew better than to try to jump into a well-oiled team. These men had trained together and fought together and knew each other's moves and mannerisms. She would only slow them down. Standing by the door, she waited patiently, watching them silently stack up.
A team member shuffled forward with a pry bar. The wedge end was pressed hard into the door before he looked back, waiting for the command to lever open locked door. Sixteen men split into two remaining teams stood in anticipation.
“Breach,” came the command, and the doorman leaned hard on the bar. The metal of the lock squealed then popped. Sunlight blazed from above.
The men two nearest the door tossed up flash-bangs, which popped almost immediately. At the noise, the first group rushed up the stairs into the sunlight, suppressing unseen aggressors. The second team followed.
Olivia followed. She recognized the elevator room and the stairwell as she passed through it. A dead mercenary lay by the roof door, an obvious holdout. On the helicopter pad sat a quad lift aircraft. Four gravity plates sat motionlessly, and the cargo doors were wide open. No pilot sat in the front seat.
The SWAT team moved forward and swept the area around the loaded cargo aircraft.
“Where’s the pilot?” Olivia muttered aloud. She turned toward the dead mercenary at her feet. There were no hallmark pilot traits. No helmet. No flight suit. He was too encumbered in body armor and weapons to fit into the pilot's seat, let alone operate it. The heavy lift aircraft was useless without a trained professional at the controls.
The SWAT team relaxed after they swept behind each and every air conditioning unit. No forces opposed them.
Olivia knew something was missing from this puzzle.
She retraced her steps down the stairs. None of the men she had seen had looked like a pilot. On the top floor, she inspected the bodies of the men they had killed. Again, all too big and encumbered. It was possible
“What are you looking for?” Chuck asked from the doorway above. He took a few steps down, watching her move from body to body, rolling dead men onto their backs.
She pointed to the dead. “None of these guys are pilots.”
"You think it was piloted remotely?" Chuck descended to the bottom step and stood there, as though standing at the edge of a great height, unwilling to jump.
As Olivia turned to push past him, back to the stairwell, a bright flash filled her vision. Heat and chaos roared around her as the air crashed into her. The sensation of being hit in the chest by the pressure wave then lifted off her feet was short-lived. She landed on her back, knocking the wind out of her right before Chuck's heavy body crashed down, pressing even more air out of her lungs. The lights went out and the top floor of the building filled with smoke.
Olivia lay there heaving for a moment. Her ears were ringing. She pushed on Chuck's torso, rolling him off her chest and onto her legs.
Sitting up she felt Chuck’s body across her legs. His shifting weight indicated he was still alive. In the dim light she saw and felt him roll to the side. “What the hell was that?” he said. He coughed as he raised himself to shaky hands and knees, taking the pressure off her legs.
Olivia dragged herself angrily out from under him. The submachine gun was still in her right hand, and she braced against the wall with her left while brought herself up to her feet. “Sacrifice play,” she gasped. “They must have booby-trapped the transport.”
“Why?” Chuck said.
“How do I know?” Olivia said furiously as she staggered up the stairs toward the doorway. Smoke was billowing in, making her cough. Stomping up the stairs, she lifted the muzzle of her weapon and stepped onto the roof.
A change in wind direction began to blow the black billowing smoke away from her. As it cleared, she could see a crater and a missing section of the far wall. No groans of pain, no screams, no movement. The aircraft was completely vaporized, save for a few pieces on the roof. A red, black tattered smear on the elevator room wall was all that was recognizable of the SWAT team.
She gritted her teeth and searched near the edge for any survivors, but no one remained. A teetering section of the roof groaned and collapsed inward. She stepped back away from the damage. Her shoulders sank.
“Any survivors?” Chuck called out from the door. He was leaning hard against the frame. His face was covered in soot and dust, collecting in the creases of his face and matting against his blond hair, making him appear much older.
Olivia clicked her weapon onto safety and looped the shoulder strap of the submachine gun over her shoulder. “There won’t be when I’m done,” she muttered.
Chapter 18
Olivia stepped out of the Neotech building as the fire trucks arrived. Their sirens winded down to a muted silence with red lights still flashing. The light of the day was being hidden by dark, brewing clouds. Far off, the sounds of thunder rumbled, promising rain before the end of the day.
Teams of firemen hopped off trucks and rushed toward the top floor of the smoldering building. For a moment, she wondered if any of them were the same men who had been at the hotel.
Steering her mind back to the present, she sat on the curb, exhausted, wondering if she should take up smoking again. At this rate, her lungs felt like they had inhaled a week's worth of cigarettes while standing on the roof.
Chuck had descended to the bottom floor to check on Gabriel and their lone witness.
“Are you damaged?” The voice was a familiar gravelly monotone.
Olivia turned to look, and the pain in her back muscles insisted she stand up to turn.
Mr. Grey stood looking at the building with his back to her.
“How are you involved in all of this?” she sneered at him and was tempted to make a face. Somehow she thought he might see it.
Mr. Grey shook his head. “I am not involved, and we do not condone the murder of hundreds of people. We would never choose to do this,” he stated flatly. It was as close to offended as any emotion he had shown.
She stood next to him and tried to speak, but the irritant in her lungs said otherwise. Olivia bent over with her hands on her knees. Coughing the black soot out of her lungs, she spat the offending matter onto the ground, then stood back up. “Why do I feel that that’s fully not true?”
“We are not involved in a direct sense,” he said.
“That’s pretty vague. I might even say evasive.” She didn't bother trying to tell if he was speaking the truth. She already had a headache, and a migraine stacked on top of it wouldn't be helpful.
“My benefactors have been running simulations. The survivability of the human race drops off exponentially if the box is used by this third party. We suspect that it w
ill happen soon but are unsure as to where it will be used.”
“Maybe you should do something about that,” Olivia said.
“We are trying to.” Mr. Grey looked directly at her, unblinking. “We have limited assets at our disposal.”
“Why do I feel like you’re going to offer me another contract?”
He held out an envelope, thick with plastic bills. “This is a fifty percent deposit for your continued services. We wish for you to retrieve Dr. Sanders alive. If she survives, there is a high probability she will contribute to the betterment of mankind with what she has learned. We believe that her work has been maligned by a third party.”
“Dr. Adam Gerrard. He’s the one who stole the box from Neotech and did the experiments on the kids.”
“We believe he is an asset of another organization. One that we have not identified as of yet. There are other players in the game. Many of them have no interest in humanity’s survival but rather the gathering of resources.”
Olivia took a deep breath. “Get to the point.”
“We wish to hire you to rescue Dr. Sanders and ensure that at the very least the box is destroyed or placed into our custody. Double your fee for a successful result.”
“Any idea of where she is?” Olivia asked. The honk of a car to her right made her turn her head. Jack was pulling up, wide-eyed confusion on his face as he stared at the building.
“Well?” Olivia turned back to Mr. Grey, but empty air met her angry gaze. Turning, she looked around for any obvious hiding spots. Unless he had sprinted behind the nearby fire trucks, there was no way he could have escaped her line of sight so quickly. “What the hell?”
“Hey, Olivia!” Jack had called out from the safety of his car, hesitant to get out. She looked at him and considered asking him if he had seen Mr. Grey standing with her a moment ago but then opted not to risk her sanity.
Olivia bent down and leaned on the open passenger window. “You missed all the fun, Jack,” she said, waving her hands at the building, lines of body bags and smoke. The setting sun wasn’t helping offset the ominous appearance.
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