Tears of God (The Blackwell Files Book 7)

by Steven F Freeman

  Vaziri nodded yet remained silent.

  “What is it? Do you see a problem with my plan?”

  “No, Director. I just wonder why they came here in the first place.”

  “Killjoy already told us why. To shut us down. To destroy everything you and I came here to build. But you’ve arrived just in time to witness them fail in that effort.” He patted a Beretta holstered to his belt. “And if we’re lucky, we might have a chance to put on the finishing touches ourselves.”

  CHAPTER 80

  Alton waited for the inventory-system elevator to emerge into the middle of the lab. His body’s tension increased every second, knowing the next few minutes would decide the outcome of their mission. He prayed his teammates, Mallory above all, would escape the upcoming conflict unscathed.

  A resounding, metallic clack heralded the transfer of the inventory cube from the horizontal track to the vertical shaft. The metal doors on the lab’s floor peeled open, and the cube rose the remaining three feet into the middle of the cavernous room.

  “Fire!” yelled a commander positioned behind two rows of EGs.

  “At what?” asked an EG with a puzzled voice.

  Inside the cube, a mass of white putty held together a tangled block of wires and metallic bits.

  “Should we—” began the EG.

  The pallet’s contents exploded with a deafening roar.

  From the inventory cube, a white-and-yellow fireball expanded outward, obliterating a nearby table of experiments and shredding the bodies of the EGs. The blast threw them backwards in unison, scattering their corpses among burning fragments of lab equipment.

  Flames roared, and clouds of smoke billowed in pockets throughout the room. The lab’s curious mixture of organic aromas transformed into an overpowering blend of noxious odors.

  Within seconds, the penetrating wail of a fire alarm pierced the air, and a cascade of water descended from the room’s extensive sprinkler system.

  From his vantage point on the steel walkway overlooking the lab’s main floor, Alton had felt the heat and shockwave of the blast wash over his face. Using explosives to soften up the lab’s security had played out better than he could have hoped. Not only had EGs occupied the room, they had massed around the elevator shaft, hoping to catch Alton using it as the launching point for his attack. Taking the elevator to the second-floor supplies closet had proved flawless for approaching the lab undetected.

  “Hold your fire,” Alton murmured into his sub-vocalization mike. They’d be firing blind if they attacked now. Better to let the smoke obscuring the lab floor subside before revealing their positions.

  The smoldering ruins below continued to produce a pungent odor. Incinerated chemicals, furniture, and biological experiments combined to produce a noxious mixture of aromas. Worst of all, the acrid smell of burning flesh stirred memories of the fateful day Alton’s mobile communications van had met a similar fate at the hands of a turncoat Afghani policeman, incinerating many of his soldiers.

  The sprinkler system soon doused the flames and chased away the suffocating fumes, although pale tendrils continued to rise. As suddenly as it had begun, the system shut off. The sounds of trickling drops replaced that of a heavy rainfall.

  Alton sized up the lab. The blast had pushed a row of aluminum lab tables into a pile. The wreckage formed a barricade of sorts about a dozen yards in front of the room’s main entrance, a set of double doors leading to the interior of the building. If he were an EG, that’s the spot he would use for cover upon entering the room.

  Mallory’s position in a corner of the second-floor catwalk placed her almost directly above the impromptu barricade. Alton whispered into his mike. “Mallory, move directly over the first-floor door. Wait for my signal to fire.”

  “Wilco,” she replied.

  She crept in utter silence to the spot, while Alton limped towards the room’s opposite wall and ensconced himself behind a steel control panel used to operate the lab’s overhead system of pulleys.

  The double doors burst open. Several dozen EGs rushed inside and took cover behind the twisted pile of tables, while an older man accompanied by Vaziri peered into the room from the doorway. The EGs swung their heads wildly, trying to locate their hidden enemy.

  “Get ready,” whispered Alton. He lined his A4 up on one of the EGs. Exhaling, his squeezed the trigger and landed a perfect kill shot to the forehead, sending the man crumpling to the floor.

  The dead EG’s comrades began to shout. One of them pointed in Alton’s direction.

  Alton aimed the M203 under-the-barrel-grenade launcher attached to the bottom of his A4. He pulled the trigger and sent the stubby ordinance arcing across the room. The round detonated, sending three of the EGs pin wheeling through the air and smashing two more against the barricade’s shattered tables.

  Alton began unleashing a series of three-round bursts from his A4. An Al-Qaeda flunky spun sideways as a round ripped through his arm. The rest of the EGs squatted behind their cover and began to return fire.

  In seconds, every EG behind the barricade was pouring a steady stream of lead into Alton’s position. He ducked behind the pulley control panel. “David, when Mallory starts to fire, they’ll probably come around to your side. Be ready to pick them off.”

  “Roger.”

  “Mallory,” said Alton. “Open fire!”

  Mallory fired her own M203 at the left side of the barricade, then used three-round bursts to good effect. Starting in the middle of the formation, she picked off each EG in turn.

  One or two stood up and fired wildly. Alton lined up the men and brought them down with grim efficiency.

  The rest of the EGs began a full-on stampede around the right side of the barricade, exactly as Alton had predicted.

  The streak of an M203 round from Alton’s left signaled David’s foray into the battle. The round impacted the end of the barricade, producing a deafening explosion. A deadly orb of shrapnel ripped through most of the remaining EGs, sending them flying. Gilbert joined the fray, firing with his Beretta from a hiding spot near David.

  Sporadic gunfire from the remaining few EG survivors drew a barrage of ordinance from Alton’s team.

  In seconds, the gunfire ceased. In the deafening silence, a shard of metal fell with a clatter onto the tile floor.

  “Scan the room for survivors,” said Alton into his mike. “We can’t afford to let any of them catch us by surprise.”

  Alton spotted an EG crawling underneath one of the nearby lab tables, a spot that had escaped the battle relatively unscathed.

  Alton aimed his rifle at the man. “You down there. Come out and raise your hands.”

  The EG rolled on his back to see if Alton was addressing him. Realizing he’d been spotted, he aimed his AK-47 and fired.

  Alton returned fire. His first burst went high, demolishing an experiment on the table and riddling it with holes. The experimental concoction ignited and sent a wave of heavy fumes sinking to the floor.

  The EG began to scramble for cover but stopped and clutched his throat. The haze grew thicker around him, and he slumped onto the tile.

  Besides the hiss and dance of smoldering fires, the room fell still.

  The bodies of EGs lay scattered about the lab. Alton shook his head in contempt. These transplanted Al-Qaeda terrorists resembled many he had encountered in Afghanistan, better at detonating bombs from a distance than successfully acquitting themselves in a straight-up fight.

  Silva’s voice erupted over Alton’s headset. “Alton, I’m on the run! We need to execute my mission—now!”

  CHAPTER 81

  “All team members, deploy to the main hallway!” said Alton. “Be ready to lay down covering fire for Silva.”

  David and Gilbert bolted out a second-floor doorway on their side of the lab.

  Alton limped over to Mallory and joined her in a scramble down a stairway adjacent to the lab’s double doors.

  They raced through the double doors, only to be dr
awn up in their tracks.

  Rala Vaziri stood with a powerful Beretta 93A1 trained on them at point-blank range. “Which one of you will be the first to die? You choose by raising your weapon.”

  Alton’s hammering heart felt like it was trying to tear itself out of his chest. He dropped his A4 rifle and took a deliberate step in front of his wife.

  “Alton—”

  He shook his head. “I promised to take care of you, for better or for worse.”

  “Shut up!” said Vaziri. “This isn’t the dating game. You killed a lot of men in there.”

  Alton stood straight and looked Vaziri in the eye. “Yes, men who were committed to murdering innocent people to further the careers of corrupt political and business leaders. In the long run, I probably saved more lives than I took.”

  “Move aside.”

  Without speaking, Alton shook his head once.

  “Move or you’ll die.”

  He stood firm. Why did the woman wait? She had Alton dead to rights, and she hadn’t seemed reluctant to inflict violence in the past.

  Vaziri’s hand wavered. “Why?” Uncertainty haunted her eyes.

  Alton cocked his head. “Why…what?”

  “What’s so special about…her?” She waved the Beretta in Mallory’s direction.

  The sound of shouts erupted from the northern end of the main hallway. Silva and her pursuers were coming.

  “I could never tell you in a way you’d understand,” said Alton.

  Vaziri took a step forward and regripped her handgun. “Try me.”

  “She’s the person I want to wake up to every day, who makes me a better man than I would’ve thought possible, who gives me a reason and purpose.”

  “Whose life is more important than your own?” asked Vaziri.

  “You see where I am,” said Alton, remaining between his wife and Vaziri. “Your boss killed her father. I’m not going to move aside and let you kill her.”

  Vaziri seemed to be fighting some sort of internal battle. Conflicting emotions danced across her face.

  The noise of Silva and her pursuing EGs grew louder by the second. Shouts and sporadic gunfire echoed through the spacious main hall.

  “What difference does it make?” said Vaziri. “I could kill you both. Why not move and give yourself a chance to live? Maybe you’ll make it to cover before I fire.”

  “You just don’t get it, do you? If I let you kill her, why would I want to live?”

  Vaziri wavered, unwilling to fire off a shot. Alton never would have expected those merciless eyes to reflect the doubt he saw there.

  She lowered the Beretta. “Make a move toward me with any of your weapons, and I’ll put a bullet through the eyes of whoever is closest.”

  Vaziri kept unwavering eyes on the couple as she took deliberate steps towards a doorway leading down a side hall. She passed through the door and shut it behind her.

  “What was that all about?” asked Mallory.

  “Beats me,” said Alton, grabbing his A4 off the floor. He resisted the urge to chase Vaziri, knowing he had more pressing obligations. “Let’s move. We need to help Silva—”

  A handgun blast rang out. A round whizzed inches past their heads and exploded the plaster in the wall behind them.

  An injured EG had staggered out of the lab and now leaned against the double doorway, grasping a pistol.

  Time seemed to proceed in slow motion.

  The wounded EG already had his Beretta trained on the couple. Alton had just begun to raise his rifle when the EG fired from mere feet away.

  The round impacted Mallory’s chest, propelling her backwards. Her A4 slipped from limp fingers as she collapsed to the floor.

  Mallory tried to raise her head from the cold tiles but couldn’t. A faint wheeze emanated from her lips as her eyes closed.

  Her head rolled to the side, and all movement ceased.

  CHAPTER 82

  The injured EG fired again. The shot went wild as a steam of blood from a forearm wound rendered the weapon slippery.

  Alton unleashed a barrage into the man. The thug’s limbs danced like a demonic marionette as he careened backwards onto the lab’s floor, blood pouring from a half-dozen lethal wounds.

  Alton knelt beside his wife.

  She continued to wheeze. “Can’t…breathe.”

  He grabbed Mallory under her arms and dragged her into the same offshoot hallway Vaziri had used to make her exit. He unstripped several Velcro straps on her torso, then removed his wife’s body armor and examined her shirt. No rounds had penetrated the camouflage material. The Kevlar vest had, in all probability, saved her life—although she hadn’t escaped all injury.

  “The shot knocked the breath out of you,” said Alton, holding Mallory’s hand. “Relax. Breath deep. You’ll feel better in a minute.”

  The sound of pulsing gunfire drew his attention away. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

  He limped back into the main hallway just in time to see Silva streaking past. She swiveled at the waist and squeezed off a few shots behind her.

  A group of ten or eleven EGs gave chase, firing their weapons in Silva’s direction.

  One of the pursuer’s rounds found Silva’s right calf, sending her sprawling to the floor and writhing in agony.

  The roar of a grenade blast rocked the hallway behind the EGs. Apparently, David and Gilbert had reached their ambush positions.

  Alton leaned around the corner and peered down the main hallway. The EGs were running in his direction. He removed a pair of frag grenades from his web gear. Popping the safety pins, he side-armed them down the hall at the feet of Silva’s pursuers.

  A squat EG with a heavy beard picked up the first grenade. He wound up his arm as if to throw it back, only to be obliterated when the short-fuse device detonated in his hand. The explosion of the second one moments later threw an EG sideways. The man left a crimson stain as he slid down the wall.

  The remaining EGs pulled to a halt. They looked around in a panic, uncertain.

  Two of them started to retreat back down the hallway. David opened up with his A4, sending clusters of rounds down the passage with lethal accuracy. Alton did the same, decimating the former terrorists now caught in a deadly crossfire.

  The only two living EGs made a break in Alton’s direction. They fired as they ran, hoping to punch through and escape.

  Alton raced to reload his A4. The action took only seconds—but then again, that was all the time the enemy combatants needed to reach his position.

  Alton slammed home the magazine. He swung the A4 while firing. The first EG fell as a pair of shots blew apart his chest.

  The second EG ducked to the floor into a slide. He raised his handgun to fire but was interrupted by a gunshot from across the hallway. The man face-planted onto the tile, revealing a gaping wound on the back of his head.

  Mastana emerged from the lab, a smoking Beretta grasped in her hand.

  As suddenly as the chaos had erupted, it ceased.

  Alton lowered himself to the floor and looked around the corner. The hallway lay strewn with the bodies of EG thugs in various states of disintegration. Clearly, none remained alive. A smoky haze drifted in the wide space, lending it a surreal quality.

  “Is it safe?” asked Mastana.

  “Yes.” The teen rushed over and threw herself into the safety of Alton’s arms. “My father?”

  “He’s fine.” He swiveled his mike back into position. “Everyone, meet at my position, just past the lab doors. Silva’s down.”

  Alton jogged to Silva’s side and began to examine her leg wound. David appeared seconds later and received a lengthy embrace from his daughter.

  “See if you can find a first aid kit in the lab,” said Alton. “Bring it back here pronto.” Turning to Mastana, he added, “Mallory took a round to her vest. Can you check on her and make sure she’s okay?”

  Eyes wide, Mastana replied, “Yes, of course.”

  David soon returned with a white,
plastic case bearing a red cross on its cover. He opened it and removed peroxide, antibiotic ointment, and a roll of gauze.

  Alton used the supplies to clean the calf wound and apply a makeshift field dressing. “It’s not world class,” he told her, “but it’ll do.”

  “Got anything for pain in there?” asked the wincing agent. “It hurts like a mother.”

  “Let me check.” Alton rummaged in the kit and produced a bottle of acetaminophen. He handed her four tablets, which she dry swallowed.

  “I wonder if Kevin would like some of these pills,” mused Alton. “Speaking of Kevin, anyone know where he is?”

  Mallory, who had just walked up to the group, shook her head. David didn’t know, either.

  “I would have thought he’d be down here by now. We should go look for him.”

  “Alton,” said Mallory, struggling to speak despite her bruised chest, “don’t we have someone else to look for first? Safi has disappeared.”

  CHAPTER 83

  “You’re right,” replied Alton. “We’ve trashed Safi’s lab, but we have to find the man himself. Otherwise, we’ll just be repeating this raid in some other part of the world next year. Did anyone see where he went?”

  No one spoke but David. “I was kind of occupied.”

  Alton helped Silva over to the wall and leaned her against it. “He has to know he’s busted,” he said, “which means he’ll be leaving here as fast as he can. Our goal should be catching him before that happens.”

  “Damn right,” murmured Mallory.

  “Let’s think about where to look,” said Alton. “David, go out front to the parking lot and see if he’s trying to take one of the vehicles. We might be too late, but it’s worth a try. Stay sharp. It looks like we’ve eliminated all the EGs, but there might be few more around.”

  David nodded, shouldered his rifle, and sprinted down the hall towards the Menagerie’s main entrance.