Sheepdog

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by Orlando A. Sanchez


  “Thank you,” Bullock mumbled with his head down. “You saved my life.”

  “I’ll probably regret it by tonight,” I said, turning to the sound of the approaching vehicle as Bullock pulled out a phone. “Try to avoid getting blown up.”

  Intern arrived with the medical vehicle. Several medics poured out and approached Bullock.

  “We can take it from here,” Intern said, removing some instruments from a bag. “Anvil wants to see you.”

  “I’m sure she does,” I said with a nod, looking at Bullock. “I’ll have Anvil reach out to you once we know more.”

  “Of course. You know where to find me.”

  I glanced back at the wreckage. “Apparently, so does Black Wolf, be safe.”

  I turned the corner and ran back to my team.

  FOUR

  “Anvil, sitrep,” I said, keeping my voice even. “Now.”

  The worst case scenario flashed in my mind’s eye. I mentally shoved the lifeless bodies of my team out of my imagination. A few seconds of silence were followed by Anvil’s crisp voice.

  “Bullock’s team is neutralized,” she said, “as if there were any doubt. How many casualties at the truck?”

  “Four dead at the truck,” I answered. “Bullock made it out.”

  “Meaning—you saved Ballsack from being blown into little sacks,” Bella said. “Should’ve left him in the truck.”

  “He’s more useful to us alive…for now.”

  “I hope you are right,” Anvil answered as I approached the building. “I’m sure he is convinced by now. Are you sure it was Victor?”

  Both teams of five were in varying states of incapacitation. Most of the men were zip-tied and being deposited into the rear of their vans. Anvil’s strength never failed to amaze. Between Bella and Anvil, Bullock’s team never stood a chance.

  “Broken necks and holy decks,” I said, quoting Victor’s favorite saying for his method of execution. “The four in the truck were Victor’s handiwork.”

  “Fuck me,” Bella growled. “How did he even know?”

  “Bullock,” Anvil answered. “Cans, scrape his communication network for the breach. Find the source.”

  “Victor transmitted to the truck,” I said. “Get me the location of that signal too.”

  “On it,” Cans answered. “I’ll send it to your HUDs.”

  “We need to clear the area before CITADEL arrives,” I said. “Last thing I need is a conversation with Lydia.”

  “Oooh, Lydia,” Bella said. “You know she has a hard-on for you.”

  I stole a glance at Anvil, who flexed her jaw muscles at the mention of Lydia.

  “What she has...is an incompetent team,” Anvil said, curtly. “Counter Intelligence Target Acquisition and Deletion are ill-equipped to deal with an adversary like Black Wolf.”

  “We need to be gone by the time CITADEL arrives,” I said. “Intern, what’s the status?”

  “We’re heading back. Bullock suffered mostly minor contusions and cuts. He’s lucky you pulled him out. The four in the vehicle weren’t so lucky.”

  Bella placed the last of Bullock’s team in a van. “Why did you save him, again?” she asked. “We don’t need him to deal with Victor.”

  “He’s an asset. Better to have him alive, than deal with the next mouthpiece. Plus he owes me: I saved his life.”

  “You know that currency will only last so long,” Anvil added, adjusting her sheaths. “Bureaucrats have short memories and flexible loyalties.”

  “Agreed. We’ll use it for as long as we can. Bella, bring The Tank, and let’s get scarce.”

  FIVE

  We left the scene and headed to Lower Manhattan.

  The Tank was a converted armored truck, equipped by Quemi to be a mobile arsenal. Bella dubbed it ‘The Tank’ after the modifications had revealed that Quemi had increased the armor to withstand most RPG attacks due to cutting edge metal and ceramic design.

  Nightfall was a few hours away. We raced downtown on the FDR. I rode shotgun because apparently somewhere deep down, I must’ve been a closet masochist. No one but Bella, drove The Tank, and I used the term ‘drive’ loosely.

  Bella drove like we were being pursued by a squadron of enemies out to erase us.

  I looked in the side rearview mirror.

  “Just wondering,” I said calmly. “Are we being pursued?”

  “Defensive driving,” Bella said as we swerved around traffic. “This makes sure we lose any tails Ballsack sent after us.”

  I gripped the interior grab handle to make sure I didn’t tumble into her or the rear of The Tank, despite being secured by my harness.

  “I have a feeling he probably knows where our headquarters is located,” I said, looking back. “And if he doesn’t, your erratic driving isn’t exactly making us blend in. It’s not like The Tank is subtle.”

  “Shep has a point,” Anvil said. “Slow down and enter the flow of traffic instead of trying to cause a twenty car pile-up. We’ll lose any trackers that way.”

  Anvil was probably the only one on the team, besides me, that could give Bella a direct order and have it followed without the imminent threat of loss of life. Bella slowed down and entered the flow of traffic.

  “Don’t blame me when they come knocking on our backdoor,” Bella answered, taking one last swerve to cut off a taxi.

  “Take the exit past ours and double-back to HQ. We’ll see if we have anyone after us,” Anvil answered. “If anyone has latched on, I will deal with them.”

  Bella grinned. She and Anvil, despite their physical differences, were evenly matched in the level of ferocity they could unleash on an enemy. Kindred spirits in very different packages. If Bella was the team’s heart, running on impulse and emotion, Anvil was our head—cold, calculated, and rational. I observed Anvil for a few seconds and shook my head, refocusing my attention on the traffic ahead. She wasn’t bluffing.

  She was the most formidable operative on my team, which spoke volumes to her skills, abilities, and her willingness to follow through on a planned course of action. I dubbed her Anvil, because as the second-in-command, she was responsible for training all RHINOS team members. She was the reason our team was made up of elite operators. She was also the reason we had such a high attrition rate. Few made it through her brutal training regimen.

  “Besides,” TwoCans added from the rear, “this thing is covered in enough composite materials to put a B-2 to shame. Not to mention that the jamming frequencies it puts out, should make it invisible to anyone trying to find us.”

  Bella slipped off the FDR and took the Brooklyn Bridge exit, veering right and ending up on Pearl Street. She took Pearl South for a few blocks and turned East onto Dover Street until we came to Front Street. Taking a hard right, she slowed down enough to allow the reinforced gate at 237 Front Street to shimmer once, before driving into what appeared to be a solid gate.

  “That never ceases to freak me out,” Bella said, driving down a ramp and bringing The Tank to halt. “One day, I’m going to end up slamming into the real gate.”

  RHINOS HQ was located beneath the building that once housed the Con Edison Substation. The lower level had been converted into a full service operations command center. Bella pulled up next to the Armadillo, our secondary vehicle.

  Anvil stepped out of The Tank and drew her Chameleon.

  “What is it?” I asked, drawing my weapon. “You sense something?”

  Anvil remained silent and nodded.

  “Fuck me,” Bella hissed, drawing her gun. “Where?”

  Intern, Monk, and TwoCans followed Bella’s example, drew their guns, and fanned out behind The Tank.

  “Don’t move,” Anvil said. “We have a breach.”

  SIX

  The first time Anvil had declared she ‘sensed’ something, I had dismissed it as an overactive imagination on her part. We were about to execute a hard breach, when she sensed the target had wired the door. Part of me wanted to scoff, but the other part of me
, the part that enjoyed having my limbs attached, listened.

  She was right, we avoided being blown to bits, and learned to listen to her ‘senses’ when they warned her. The team dubbed it ‘Anvil’s RHINOsense’, but never made fun of her. One, because they enjoyed breathing, and two, because it had saved all of our asses at one time or another.

  TwoCans pulled out his kit and began a scan. “Picking up activity on the lower level,” he said. “These guys are good—burst transmissions and scramblers. Whoever they are, they came equipped. Main power and Banshee are off-line. We won’t be able to reach Quemi if she’s followed protocol.”

  “Looks like everyone scrambled,” Bella said, looking around.

  “Breach protocol means they are in the safe areas,” Monk said. “It would take more explosives than we have on the premises, to get through those walls.”

  I looked at Anvil. “Black Wolf?”

  “We are the only ones that pose a threat to Victor,” Anvil said. “If I were him, I would remove us from the board, first.”

  “Sounds about right,” I said. “Anvil with me, on point. Cans, set up in The Tank and lock the place down—jam everything but dark coms. Bella and Monk, walk the wheel and erase anything that isn’t us. No one breaks into our home and gets to walk out…without violent help.”

  “Perhaps, leave one to interrogate,” Anvil added. “I will make sure they speak.”

  “We’ll start at Banshee and work our way around,” I said. “Coms on dark.”

  “Banshee?” Bella asked. “You think this group was suicidal?”

  “Only one way to find out,” I said. “With the power out, Banshee will be on essential systems—security and life support.”

  “Time to get kinetic,” Bella said with a feral grin. “Ready, Mr. Silent?”

  Monk nodded. “I’m not ‘silent’, I just prefer to choose my words carefully.”

  “And take forever to do so. Why do you think we call you, ‘Monk’?” I heard Bella answer, as Anvil and I walked down the main corridor.

  RHINOS HQ was arranged in a wheel-and-spoke configuration, with our situation/conference room acting as the hub. Multipurpose rooms were arranged around the hub and doubled as offices and workspaces for our base personnel. The only rooms situated off to the side and outside the wheel, were our weapons cache and tech areas. Those rooms were protected by Banshee.

  “You think they’re making a move on Banshee?” I asked as we headed to the weapons cache.

  Anvil gave me a cold smile that made me grateful she was on my side.

  “Logic would dictate that to be the prudent course of action,” she said. “However, Banshee is formidable. Attempting to ‘defang the tiger’ would result in a fatal error.”

  “Aside from data, I would try to get our weapons.”

  “Logical, but futile in this case,” Anvil answered. “A better play would be to sabotage the entire base and kill us directly.”

  “Power plant?”

  She nodded. “Banshee first.”

  “Have I ever told you how much your assessments cheer me up?” I asked as we stood in front of the door that led to the cache waiting area. “You are a regular unicorn of sunshine and magic.”

  “A unicorn?” Anvil unsheathed one of her karambits. “Really?”

  “Well, if that unicorn was a lethal agent of destruction, I mean.”

  She nodded to me as I readied to open the door.

  “I will accept Lethalcorn.” She gave me a nod. “I’m ready.”

  I flung open the door, making sure to stay back and out of the doorway. A barrage of rounds looking to reduce me to Swiss cheese, screamed through the doorway.

  “Looks like they were expecting us.”

  “They weren’t expecting me,” Anvil said, pausing until she heard the sounds of reloading. “Cover me.”

  SEVEN

  There wasn’t much to cover.

  I glanced in quickly and counted two shooters and two working the door. With Banshee offline, they didn’t trip the fail-safes. It meant Quemi prioritized getting personnel safe before activating the backup power. They were in for a world of pain when she did.

  Anvil glided silently across the floor, closing the distance before the first shooter had a chance to reload. She stripped him of his weapon in an instant, burying the karambit in his thigh and moving her body around him. It was a combination of dance and death. I paused for a second to admire her lethal grace.

  She shredded his leg before he had a chance to react. He fell to the ground with a grunt. From the blood flow, I could tell Anvil had purposely missed his femoral artery. She dropped him into unconsciousness with a right cross, before setting her sights on the second shooter. I put several riot rounds into the second shooter, dropping him to save him from the same fate. Anvil gave me a look before turning to the two men on the door.

  “Desist or die,” she said. “Your choice.”

  The one working on the door dropped his tools. His backup made a move to grab his weapon. Anvil’s hands were a blur as she hit his throat with a knife-hand strike and finished with a hammer fist to his temple. He fell back and slumped against the wall.

  “How many?” I asked. “How many did Victor send?”

  “Don’t know, and I wouldn’t tell you even if—”

  Anvil prevented him from finishing as she slammed his head into the wall. Twice.

  “We don’t have time for questions right now,” she said, placing her hand on a section of the wall next to the door. “We need to get our people out.”

  The panel operated on reserve power. The men at the door were trying to override the locking mechanism, which meant they were working on faulty intelligence. That door wasn’t going to open without biometrics from one of my team.

  The door slid back silently, and several large rifles pointed in our direction.

  “Stand down,” a voice said from behind the weapons. “Anvil’s DNA opened that door and that would only happen if she were dead, had lost a hand, or was standing before us. Since bullets aren’t cutting us down, I’m assuming Anvil is standing outside.”

  Quemi stepped forward, holstering her Chameleon as the group of armed guards parted before her. She stood slightly taller than Anvil, her dark skin gleaming and reflecting the emergency lights off her shaven head. I noticed she wore her RHINOS combat armor under her tech lab coat. She looked relaxed, but was prepared for lethal action if needed.

  Our combat armor was basically a modern version of a utility belt. I requested that Quemi try and anticipate every scenario we would encounter into the design. She didn’t disappoint, equipping the armor with extra compartments—many of them hidden.

  “Everyone safe?” I asked as she stepped into the waiting area. “What happened to Banshee?”

  “I took it offline and compartmentalized the data once I felt it was compromised,” Quemi answered, glancing at the unconscious men. “Someone tried to dirty hack their way into our secure network. Someone skilled.”

  “More skilled than you?”

  “Is Intern with you?” she asked, looking around me. “Is he close?”

  “No, why?” I asked, concerned. “Do we have injured?”

  “No, but it’s clear you’ve suffered a brain injury,” Quemi answered with a tight smile. “You’ve resorted to spouting nonsense. I said ‘skilled’. Not ‘more skilled than me’.”

  “Hilarious,” I said. “Were you able to contain the damage?”

  “I took Banshee offline and made sure we followed breach protocol once the exterior alarms were tripped,” Quemi said as she began ushering personnel out of the safe room. “Whoever it was, they were trained. But I don’t think tech was the main target.”

  Anvil gave me a look.

  “Q, make sure you get everyone to R2, use the tunnels,” I said, quickly. “Anvil and I are going downstairs.”

  “Downstairs…you think—?”

  She quickly masked the concern on her face as she saw my expression.

 
“I do. Get these people out of here—now.”

  She turned to the armed guards. “You and you, get the emergency tunnels open and get everyone through there,”—she pointed to two different guards—“you two, incarcerate the men outside and bring up the rear. Make sure there are no stragglers.”

  The two guards nodded and moved outside. R2 was the designation for RHINOS HQ2. It was connected to our current base by a series of passages that were part of a maze-like group of tunnels which intersected several main conduits under the city.

  R2 was an underground facility located in the center of the Financial District and served as a backup power station similar to the station located under Grand Central. We had converted it to our secondary base of operations several years ago, when things were getting dicey with HALO. I was glad we took the precaution.

  “Once we’re done, we’ll meet you at R2,” I said, turning to leave the room and head for the stairs. “What are you going to do? I need you out of here with them.”

  “I’m going to finish securing Banshee,” Quemi said with a shake of her head. “Situations like this are why I didn’t want to do fieldwork in the first place.”

  “I understand,” I said, pausing a beat. “This may be Victor.”

  At the mention of his name, her expression darkened.

  “For him, I will consider going out into the field again.”

  “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” I said. “Don’t stay longer than you need to, Q. Fifty-four.”

  “Sixteen,” she answered, moving back into the tech space as personnel filed past her. “I’m on the com. Any new development, let me know. Get going. I won’t be long.”

  Anvil was already ahead of me on the stairs when I left the room.

  EIGHT

  “How would they even get to the power plant?” I asked as we raced down the stairs. “The entire structure is reinforced.”

 

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