Soul Meaning (Seventeen)

by AD Starrling

  Victor pointed at the pictures. ‘The vast majority of them will be in the top four floors of the building. That leaves about fifty guards watching the access to the underground garage and the ground floor, as well as the dozen others spread out above.’ He paused. ‘We need you to handle the guys on the ground while we get to the lifts.’ He gazed steadily at the FBI chief and the Frenchman. ‘Tell your men to aim for the head. The new body armour they possess will protect their other vital points.’ He ignored Lacroix’s deepening frown and stared at McCabe. ‘Are your SWAT teams in place?’

  ‘They are,’ said the FBI chief with a curt nod.

  ‘Good,’ said Victor. ‘Let’s move.’

  The night before, we had debated long and hard between a slow and subtle infiltration of the Crovirs’ defences versus a fast and hard approach. In the end, we all voted for the latter tactic, in the hope that shock and the element of surprise would rattle the enemy and work in our favour.

  As the cavalcade drew closer to the sky rise, Reid and I fastened FBI vests over our clothes and checked our earpieces. ‘You ready?’ said my partner while he loaded a magazine into the chamber of his Glock.

  ‘Not really,’ I murmured, my fingers sliding over the reassuring weights of the blades at my waist. I looked at Lacroix. ‘Good luck,’ I said quietly. The Frenchman nodded curtly.

  Seconds later, our convoy screeched to a halt around the Pennsylvania Avenue tower. The doors of the van slammed open and we spilled out onto the asphalt. Behind us, McCabe’s men swiftly set up a security perimeter and started to clear the surrounding blocks.

  We paused on the sidewalk, raised our guns and fired at the glass frontage of the main foyer. The wall shattered into glittering fragments. We stepped swiftly through the gaping frames, broken glass crunching loudly beneath our feet. Black clad figures appeared from around the lobby. I holstered the Glock, unsheathed the swords and moved. A heartbeat later, the two Crovir Hunters I stabbed in the chest went down.

  ‘Head for the lifts!’ Victor shouted to my right. I nodded and raced along the concourse towards the elevators.

  Lacroix’s agents and McCabe’s men entered the lobby just as dozens of Crovir Hunters charged across the marble floor. The sound of gunfire rose to the ceiling, the echoes deafening in the tall, vaulted space.

  The first elevator doors pinged seconds before I reached them. Unable to halt my momentum, I skidded on the floor. ‘Get down!’ Reid yelled behind me. I slid to the ground just as the metal panels opened to reveal five Crovir Hunters. Reid and Lacroix emptied their guns into the immortals before they had a chance to reach for their weapons. Heart racing in my chest, I rose to my feet, the blades of the daisho slashing all too readily through the flesh of those who were still standing.

  We heaved the bodies of the dead men out and stepped inside the lift. Bullets from the gunfight in the foyer struck the doors with dull thuds as they closed after us. The elevator started to rise.

  ‘If one of you is intending to say something patronizing like “You shouldn’t be here”, then save your breath,’ Lacroix murmured darkly while he reloaded his gun.

  Reid and I glanced at each other. ‘Wasn’t gonna say a word,’ Reid said wryly.

  The lift doors opened on the fourth and seventh floors. We left a trail of bullets in the corridors beyond and the bodies of the Crovir Hunters who stood in the way. Distant explosions reached our ears when we drew close to the tenth floor. The heavily battered doors slid aside with a soft creak. Across the corridor, the opposite lift opened simultaneously. Victor, Costas, Bruno and Anatole were crouched inside it, their guns raised. We stared at one other for several seconds, listening intently to the silence in the passage outside.

  Anatole poked his head around the corner of the elevator door. A bullet whined through the air, struck the metal hinge and raised sparks inches from his face. ‘Whoa!’ said the immortal as Bruno dragged him hastily backwards. A slow grin lit up his face. ‘Looks like they’re home after all, boss.’

  A frown clouded Costas’s face. ‘What’s he doing here?’ he hissed in a stage loud whisper, gesturing pointedly at Lacroix.

  I glanced at the Frenchman and shrugged noncommittally. Lacroix muttered something rude under his breath.

  Victor turned and studied the inside of the elevator. ‘Looks like these lifts don’t go any higher without a security pass,’ he said thoughtfully.

  I inspected the control panel next to me. ‘You’re right.’

  ‘It shouldn’t come as a surprise, really,’ said Victor. ‘I guess we’re just gonna have to make our way on foot from here on.’ A faint smile played across the immortal’s face.

  Even though my heart still thudded dully against my ribs, I found my lips curving upwards. ‘Sure looks like it,’ I murmured.

  ‘On the count of three?’ said Victor. I nodded and took a deep breath.

  Bullets riddled the air and ricocheted against the walls when we charged into the corridor. Ceiling lights shattered above us and chips of plaster erupted in a cloud that quickly obscured the air. Reid grunted as a slug struck his vest. I frowned, gripped my blades tightly and moved.

  Moments later, we paused in the clearing smoke and observed the still bodies around us. Further explosions rocked the foundations of the building. Doors slammed in the distance; footsteps pounded the floor and drew closer. ‘Go!’ Victor shouted, indicating the fire escape at the end of the passage. ‘We’ll hold them back!’

  I nodded and raced towards the exit. It swung open just as I reached it. I stabbed the Crovir Hunter crossing the threshold without pausing. At the rear of the falling body, more Hunters raised their guns at me.

  Shots sang past my ears from behind, the draft from the bullets ruffling my hair. The Hunters before me jerked violently and fell to the floor. Reid, Lacroix and Costas reached my side a second later. ‘What’re you waiting for, an invitation?!’ snarled the Bastian Council member.

  I stepped over the fallen immortals and started up the stairs beyond the exit door, the others following in my wake. Halfway to the next landing, the sound of gunshots rose up from the stairwell. I glanced over the banister and caught a glimpse of the first wave of Bastian Hunters making their way up through an army of Crovirs two floors below.

  Something suddenly stung my face. I looked up and saw the Crovir Hunter above me take aim again.

  Reid moved in front of me and shot him in the head. ‘You’re bleeding again,’ he said, loading another magazine into the Glock. I lifted a hand and wiped away the sliver of blood where the bullet had grazed my cheek. ‘It’s a distressing habit of yours,’ my partner continued as we carried on up the steps. On the landing above, Costas and Lacroix had already ploughed through several Hunters. ‘Anna will undoubtedly kill me if I let you haemorrhage all over the place, so please try not to do so.’

  I smiled faintly. ‘Right.’

  The eleventh floor was home to a series of empty storage areas; it was evident from the state of the rooms that they had only just been cleared. I lifted a scrap of paper from the ground and stared at it; it was a label for a box of medical equipment. ‘We can’t be far from the research facility,’ I said with a frown.

  We found the labs on the next floor. Consisting of a network of large glass chambers, they occupied the entire level of the building.

  About fifty Crovir Hunters stood between us and the closest room.

  Beyond the containment wall, figures dressed in white decontamination suits walked swiftly around the sterile cubicles, clearing worktops and filling transport boxes with small steel canisters.

  There was a noise behind us. I looked over my shoulder and saw scores of Bastian Hunters step through the doorway we had just come through. Blood trickled from their various wounds. Most of them were breathing heavily, while others looked ready to fall. They all stood taller when they saw the Crovirs. Frowns dawned on sweaty, red streaked faces. Fingers tightened on the handgrips of guns.

  ‘Oh boy,’ muttered Reid, mirroring
my own thoughts.

  Flashes of light and smoke filled the air as gunfire exploded around us. I ducked and weaved through the falling bodies. Blood dripped from the edges of my blades and splashed onto the floor and walls while the daisho slashed repeatedly through flesh. Behind me, Reid and Lacroix emptied their guns and reloaded.

  Halfway across the floor, movement out of the corner of my eyes caught my attention. I turned and saw Burnstein disappear through an exit in the east wall of the building. A couple of scientists in suits followed behind him, each carrying a pair of silver cases in their hands. I headed after them.

  Ten feet from the doorway, half a dozen black clad figures suddenly appeared before me. In addition to guns, these Crovir Hunters wielded swords. ‘You’re not getting through us, half-breed!’ one of them barked harshly.

  My knuckles whitened on the handles of my blades. I frowned and widened my stance. ‘I really don’t have time for this.’

  The daisho sang at the tips of my fingers in the seconds that followed, the steel glinting coldly under the light of the fluorescent strips. A sword grazed my back. I ducked and rolled: blades slashed across the space where my head had been a heartbeat earlier. I spun and kicked out, taking out the three remaining Hunters. The katana flashed and sliced through their ribs in rapid succession a moment later.

  I stepped over the still bodies and entered the stairwell. Another group of Crovir Hunters materialized on the stairs above me. My eyes narrowed in frustration: with every second that passed, Burnstein was getting farther away, along with the virus and the vaccine. I sheathed the wakizashi and held the katana in a double-handed grip.

  Bullets scored the walls and the banister of the stairwell as I raced up the steps. A couple of slugs struck my vest. I grunted and forged ahead, the sword carving a deadly path through the smoke filled space. Seconds later, I reached the next landing and opened the fire door. My eyes widened. I threw myself to the side.

  A grenade left the rocket launcher shouldered by a Crovir Hunter, skimmed the air inches from my flank and detonated on the opposite wall. I lay low and covered my head with my arms as debris riddled the stairwell. Something slashed across the back of my left hand. Bricks thudded dully to the ground.

  Thick, choking billows of dust rose around me when the noise finally abated. Ears still ringing from the blast, I used the cover of the grey clouds and crawled through the open doorway. Gunshots erupted ahead of me. The shadows shifted. I raised the Smith & Wesson in a steady grip, my finger on the trigger.

  ‘It’s me,’ said Victor.

  Anatole and Bruno appeared behind him through the clearing haze. The body of the Crovir Hunter with the grenade launcher lay on the ground several feet away.

  ‘We found a pass for the lift,’ said Anatole with a grin. He stared at the wreckage of the stairwell. His grin widened. ‘You’ve been busy.’

  I rose to my feet. ‘Have you seen Burnstein?’

  ‘No,’ said Victor. ‘We just got here.’

  There was only one other exit on the thirteenth floor. It was closed. ‘They’ve cleared the labs,’ I said with a frown when we paused before it. ‘Whatever they have, they’re carrying it in transport containers in four silver cases.’

  Victor glanced over his shoulder in the direction of the damaged stairwell. His eyes narrowed. ‘Our friends will have to find another way up,’ he said finally. I nodded and opened the door.

  The staircase beyond was ominously silent: the sound of gunfire from the floors below was barely audible through the walls. We made our way carefully up the steps to the final landing.

  There was a single door at the top: it was made of thick, reinforced steel. No noise escaped from the other side. As Anatole reached for the handle, a familiar whine reached my ears. ‘Wait!’ I said, frowning.

  Victor stared at me, his eyes widening as understanding quickly dawned. ‘Get down!’ he shouted. We threw ourselves to the ground.

  A heartbeat later, the door buckled and splintered under the force of a rocket grenade. Deadly shards filled the air when it separated from the hinges and struck the wall of the stairwell. Smoke clouded the space around us.

  Coughing at the acrid haze, we rose and darted swiftly across the threshold. Muzzles flashed in the clearing grey billows ahead of us. I swapped my gun for the swords at my waist.

  As we raced across the floor, dodging shots and blades from a crowd of Crovir Hunters, a pair of elevators pinged in the wall on our right. The doors opened to reveal a horde of Bastian Hunters. Reid and Lacroix were among them. A storm of bullets erupted around the room. The pungent smell of gunpowder filled the air.

  The Crovirs came in waves, washing over us in seemingly countless numbers. I twisted and rolled, my heartbeat steady and the bloodied blades dancing in my hands while bodies fell around me.

  My eyes remained focused on the steel doors on the other side of the floor. I reached them just ahead of Victor and Costas.

  ‘Stand back!’ Victor shouted. He raised his gun and shot through the lock twice. We kicked the doors open.

  In the room beyond, Felix Thorne turned and smiled.

  An executive suite occupied the entire south half of the tower. It had a floor to ceiling glass wall that offered panoramic views to the Washington Monument and the Potomac River.

  A pair of French doors stood open in the middle of it. My eyes widened.

  Beyond them was a rooftop with a helipad; Burnstein and his scientists stood next to it.

  As I watched, a pair of twin-engined Bell 222 helicopters descended from the skies and landed in front of the three men. Thorne held my gaze for a moment before walking out onto the terrace to join them.

  My heart raced in my chest. ‘We mustn’t let them leave!’ I shouted above the noise of the rotors.

  ‘Right,’ said Victor, grimly eyeing the twenty Crovir Hunters who stood in our way.

  It took far too many precious seconds to carve a path through the wall of immortals. By the time I ran out onto the rooftop, Thorne’s helicopter was lifting off. I sheathed the swords and drew the guns at my hips.

  Bullets scored the concrete at my feet. I hit the ground, rolled to one knee and rapidly squeezed the triggers. Thorne disappeared from view as the helicopter rose towards the sky.

  I looked to my left. Burnstein had just finished loading a pair of silver cases onto the floor of the second Bell helicopter. I rose and raced towards the aircraft.

  Burnstein’s eyes widened when he saw me. He scrambled inside the open cabin and reached for the door. A cry of pain escaped his lips when a bullet whizzed past me and struck his hand.

  ‘Lucas!’ Reid shouted behind me.

  ‘Go!’ Burnstein screamed in the direction of the cockpit. The Bell 222 rose from the ground.

  I holstered the guns and jumped. My fingers grazed the starboard skid landing gear and closed around it. The helicopter pitched wildly, corrected itself and continued its ascent. Eyes widening, I looked down. My legs dangled into empty space as the sky rise dropped rapidly away beneath me. Reid and Victor became distant frozen figures on the rooftop.

  I gripped the metal runner with both hands and hauled myself up onto my elbows with a grunt of effort. A faint but eerily familiar noise reached my ears above the clatter of the rotors and the blood pounding in my head. It was the sound of someone cocking a gun.

  I glanced up and swung my body to the left, losing my right hold on the skid. A second later, a volley of bullets missed me by a hairbreadth as Burnstein emptied the magazine of his pistol in my direction. I reached for the Smith and Wesson and fired inside the cabin, the tendons in my left arm screaming with silent tension as I hung from the belly of the aircraft.

  A scream of rage erupted from within the helicopter. Smiling grimly, I holstered the gun, renewed my grip on the landing gear and pulled myself up.

  The din of approaching rotors suddenly rose on my left. I caught a glimpse of a large black and silver UH-1 helicopter with the words “FBI” blazoned in white on
its side. Then, I was inside the cabin of the Bell 222.

  I almost fell out again when a bullet thudded into my vest. I gripped the edge of the door, ignored the cowering scientists to my right and staggered across the floor towards Burnstein.

  Both his hands bore gunshot wounds. Despite this, the man was frantically trying to reload the weapon on his lap. He raised it just as I reached him and froze. The tip of the wakizashi dented the skin at the base of his throat.

  ‘Don’t,’ I said coldly.

  A fierce grimace crossed Burnstein’s face. His finger flexed on the trigger.

  A harsh gasp left his lips: below the wakizashi, the katana had pierced his heart. As his eyes turned dull, the blast from a rocket-propelled grenade caused the aircraft to swerve violently.

  A muffled curse left my lips when I hit the wall of the cabin with my back. I glanced to my left. The FBI helicopter had fired at the Bell 222 in an attempt to force its pilot to land.

  I sheathed the swords and was reaching under the dead man’s seat for the silver cases when a white blaze suddenly erupted at the side of the aircraft. The UH-1 exploded in a giant ball of fire.

  The shock waves from the detonation wrapped around the Bell 222 and spun it on its axis. Alarms sounded from the direction of the cockpit. The pilot swore.

  I found myself on the floor, the handle of a case in each hand. I crawled to my knees and stared through the open starboard door in dull incomprehension.

  The Roosevelt Island was a splash of autumnal red and yellows against the dark waters of the Potomac River below. A hundred feet away, Felix Thorne stared at me from the second Bell helicopter. The Crovir Hunter crouched on one knee next to him finished reloading the rocket launcher on his shoulder.

  Burnstein’s pilot must have seen the other aircraft for the helicopter suddenly dove sharply, causing my stomach to heave. The river grew close and rapidly disappeared; we flew low over a busy highway.

  Buildings materialised ahead of us. The pilot pulled up swiftly.