Sheepdog

by Orlando A. Sanchez

  One of the delivery men rolled what looked like marbles in front of the UPS truck. The marbles rolled for several feet and expanded into a rubber barricade. CITADEL operatives opened fire.

  The HEMI rounds embedded themselves into the rubber, doing nothing, while the UPS team crouched behind the rubber barricade. A few seconds later, the UPS team unleashed a barrage of live ammo, cutting down and through the CITADEL operatives. They never stood a chance. Five men were down in just as many seconds.

  The CITADEL team inside the hotel took defensive positions, opening fire on the UPS group. I signaled to Anvil to get her ass moving. There was only one group I knew that was this efficient at misdirection and elimination—Black Wolf.

  Another explosion rocked the entrance to the hotel. I saw body parts fill the corridor leading to the front desk.

  “Entrance secure, Sir,” I heard a voice say. “We may have hostiles in the building, and CITADEL backup is en route. I recommend making this as brief as possible.”

  “Duly noted,” said another voice—a familiar voice. “Shepherd?”

  It was Victor.

  I looked at Anvil, who looked like she was about to pounce into the corridor. For a split-second I considered holding her down, then realized I’d rather stick my hand into a working blender. I motioned for her to get to the exit. She glared at me and then started to the door.

  “Let me guess, you were in the neighborhood?”

  “Lydia is going to want your corpse after this.”

  “Why not stick your head around the corner, and I can offer her yours instead?”

  “Are you waiting for Bella?” Victor asked. “Relying on people is like building on sand. That’s your mistake—you believe in people. You trust them.”

  “Like I trusted you?”

  “And you still haven’t learned the lesson. I was your right hand. We fought and bled together and look at what I did.”

  “What makes you think I ever forgot?”

  “Do you really think they’re any different?”

  “Any one of them would take a bullet for me. More than you ever did.”

  “I was your partner.” I heard the anger in his voice. “Not your bulletproof vest.”

  “Why don’t you face me?” I asked. “I can show you how bulletproof you are.”

  “I’m going to pass on the detonation daisy chain, thanks. Flash-bangs and thermite are bad for my complexion. Give my regards to Anvil.”

  “I’m sure she’d prefer you deliver your message personally.”

  “No, thanks. I’ll take a raincheck. Enjoy explaining the use of lethal force on CITADEL to the Director. Shoot you later.”

  “Not if I see you first.”

  TWENTY-THREE

  I ran out of the closet through the segregated entrance as another series of explosions filled the lobby. I caught up with Anvil as we exited the hotel through a passage that led to an abandoned property on 96th Street.

  Judging from the passage, it seemed that the 96th Street property had served as storage or adjoining quarters for the hotel at some point in the past. We walked through the dusty space and out onto the sidewalk as sirens approached our location. We headed east, down 96th Street, as the sun dropped behind the buildings, casting parts of the city into shadow.

  “Bella, where are you?”

  “I’m coming up on your six,” Bella responded. “I didn’t even need to track your com. I can just follow the trail of destruction.”

  Bella, with Monk riding shotgun, sidled up to us in The Tank.

  “Hilarious,” I said as the side of The Tank opened and Anvil and I stepped in. “Let’s move before this area gets closed down.”

  “You should have let me destroy him,” Anvil said with a wince as Intern began prodding. “We could have ended this here and now.”

  “The only thing that would’ve ended was your ability to breathe. You’re in no condition to take on Black Wolf, much less Victor.”

  She growled in response because she knew I was right.

  “You have a mild concussion,” Intern said, spraying new-skin into her cuts, and applying ample doses of nanomeds. “A variety of cuts and contusions. What did you do—drive the Armadillo off a cliff?”

  “I broke the encryption,” Cans said from the rear of The Tank. “You need to hear this.”

  “I thought I told you to get some sleep,” I said, trying to dodge Intern, who had zeroed in on me after treating Anvil. “This is the opposite of that.”

  “Once I broke the encryption, I was able to track the signal back to its source.”

  “Tell me what abandoned warehouse we’re going to visit now,” I said, sitting still as Intern began applying nanomeds. “This is typical Victor. He’s leading us into a trap as usual.”

  “I don’t suppose either of you would listen,” Intern started, “if I prescribed bedrest—would you?”

  “No,” I said. “We can sleep later. Right now we need to stop Victor.”

  “Nanomeds are a temporary remedy and can’t replace a thorough examination, together with adequate medication,” Intern replied. “You should reconsider.”

  “We will,” Anvil said. “After.”

  “This isn’t a trap?” I asked, turning to Cans. “Why?”

  “Not this time,” Cans replied, with excitement. “I think he really wanted the apparatus back. Here, look.”

  Cans turned his laptop around and showed me an image. It looked like a magnified section of Google maps. All I could make out were the tops of buildings as I squinted closer to the screen.

  “You expect me to be able to tell where that is?”

  “Oh, sorry. I forgot you have old eyes,” Cans said, turning the laptop around again and pressing some keys. “How about now?”

  “Everyone is a comedian,” I muttered as a 3D representation of the map on the screen filled the rear of The Tank. “My old eyes work well enough to let me shoot you.”

  “I know this place,” Anvil said, pointing. “Especially there.”

  “This is uptown, not far from here,” I said. “It looks like Columbia University.”

  “That’s because it is Columbia,” Cans replied “Don’t you see?”

  “You’re telling me Victor sent that signal from inside Columbia? What, he was in the middle of a lecture and decided to murder some operatives during class?”

  “The signal didn’t come from inside Columbia,” Cans replied, tapping some more keys. “You see the building over there?”

  Cans pointed to a building on the section of the 3D map.

  “The one next to Columbia Law?”

  “Exactly,” Cans said. “About a decade ago, Columbia went from a medium-sized campus to a sprawling complex of buildings. They started buying up all the property around the neighborhood.”

  He tapped some keys on the laptop, and the image shifted to downtown, near the end of 5th Avenue. He singled out one of the townhouses facing Washington Square Park.

  “That’s the Village,” I said. “Is there a point here?”

  “The same time Columbia started to expand, the same thing happened downtown with NYU. They went from a small group of buildings to owning most of the Village.”

  He tapped the keyboard and we were looking at Columbia again.

  “This is beginning to sound like a real estate seminar, Cans. The point?”

  “These two expansions are related because they were both caused by HALO. They have been making purchases through shell companies, ‘donations’, and proxies,” Cans said. “This one building”—he pointed to a large nondescript building—“near Columbia Law has extreme heightened security and restricted access. No students enter this building.”

  “No students?”

  “Nor any other academic personnel. Every day at 5:00 p.m., the building becomes a ghost town.”

  “Maintenance?”

  “No one after five. No activity. Except—”

  He tapped another series of keys, and the image went infrared. The bui
lding was much deeper than it appeared on the surface, descending several levels underground. At the lowest levels, the heat signature was intense.

  “What is that?” I asked, pointing to the heat signature. “What gives off that kind of energy?”

  “Whatever that is, someone is working on it after hours,” Cans replied. “The only activity is underground. Minimal personnel, but they are definitely active.”

  “Can you get a reading of what that is?”

  “I know what that is,” Monk said. “I’ve never seen that much in one place, but I recognize that signature.”

  “What is it?”

  “Azidoazide azide,” Monk said from the front. “You’re looking at a concentration of AAx-1”

  TWENTY—FOUR

  “Are you serious?” I asked in disbelief. “They’re making this in the city?”

  Monk nodded.

  I told them what Bullock shared with me.

  “Can we trust Ballsack?” Bella asked. “We all know how well that worked out last time.”

  She was referring to Victor.

  “I trust Adams,” I said. “If he sent Balls—Bullock, then the intel is solid. Besides, I like to think I was efficient in my information retrieval method.”

  “You shot him, didn’t you?” Bella asked. “Tell me you shot the Ballsack.”

  “Show him, Cans,” Monk said. “Show him what you found.”

  “Show me what?”

  Cans nodded and tapped some more keys. A red line originated from the building and formed a trajectory into Roosevelt Island. It hit the top of the Cornell Tech building. From there, the line bounced to Queens—Long Island City to be precise. A few blocks away from where we met Bullock.

  “The signal from the SWAT control truck originated from that HALO building,” Cans said, pointing at the source of the signal. “Victor is working with someone inside HALO. There’s no way he wanted you to have that information.”

  “Can we stop them?” I asked, looking at the heat signature. “That looks like too much of this AA to move safely.”

  “If I can get inside that facility, I can shut it down,” Monk said. “I can create a cascade that will neutralize it.”

  “Are you certain?” Anvil asked. “What happens if you miscalculate?”

  “I don’t miscalculate,” Monk answered, “but if I do, it won’t be an issue.”

  “Won’t be an issue?” Bella asked as we headed uptown. “Are you insane?”

  “Understood,” Anvil said. “If you miscalculate, it will be the last time you do so—ever.”

  Monk nodded and handed me a small sphere. It was another truncated icosahedron soccer ball thing, but smaller.

  “What’s this?” I asked holding the sphere gingerly. “This looks like a small Earthquaker.”

  “Q calls it a Cascader,” Monk answered.“I just need to get close enough to set that off and it will set off a chain reaction, causing a massive, imploding cascade with minimal, rippling seismic effects.”

  “How close?” I asked, passing back the small soccer ball of doom. “Can you clarify what you mean by ‘minimal’, rippling seismic effects?”

  “You want the long, difficult to understand version, or the simple version.”

  “Simple, please,” I said. “My brain has had enough trauma for one day.”

  “Once the chemical contained in this sphere comes in contact with the AAx-1, it will create a chemical sheath, allowing for the volatility, but restructuring the energy output of the AAx-1 into a column. All seismic activity will be contained and expressed vertically as opposed to horizontally—directing the energy to fold in on itself, creating an implosion.”

  “That was the simple version?” Bella asked.

  “So, if I understand this correctly,” I said, “instead of an earthquake with ripples spreading out from one point, we can keep the energy in one place and force it down?”

  “Yes, exactly,” Monk said. “Not bad. Not entirely correct, but not bad. In this case, the energy will travel along a vertical plane—up and down.”

  “That’s all well and good, but you said once it comes in contact…”

  Monk pointed to the large energy signature on the 3D map.

  “I need to get this”—he held up his soccer ball of containment—“in the middle of that.”

  “Of course you do,” I said with a small laugh. “Why would something like this be easy? Did Q help you make that thing?”

  Monk nodded. “She was the one who cracked the molecular containment structure,” he said. “Her design is elegant, effective, and most importantly”—he tossed the soccer ball of death in the air and caught it as everyone in The Tank had a collective stroke—“inert. At least until it contacts the AAx-1.”

  “Can you not do that again—ever?”

  “Apologies,” Monk said, putting the soccer ball away. “Anyway, that’s what I need to do. The rest takes care of itself. Oh, one last thing, the implosion will collapse the building. I suggest we aren’t in it when that happens.”

  “Oh, is that all?” I asked. “Complete building collapse?”

  “Remember when I said the energy will travel up and down? The up part will destroy the building, and the down—”

  “The down part will destroy the foundation. Glad you didn’t forget that little detail.”

  “Considering we may be inside when it happens,” Monk added, “I thought it could be important.”

  “You think? Cans, bring up the schematic of the HALO building.”

  Cans tapped some more keys, and a schematic replaced the external image of the building. Floors, rooms, elevators, and stairwells were all exposed. The sub-levels only had elevator access from the lobby to the lowest level. One passenger and two service.

  The floor layout was a series of stacked rectangles. The elevator banks were in the center, with doors to the offices along the long sides of the rectangle. Two sets of stairs opposite each other were situated on the short sides of the rectangle.

  “Ingress and egress points,” Anvil said. “Along with any sub-levels.”

  More keyboard tapping and arrows flashed on several areas of the schematic. Anvil shifted closer to the schematic and nodded. She had an eidetic memory, which meant if she saw the layout of a maze and was dropped anywhere in the maze, she could recall the path out.

  For her, the schematic was just a stacked maze. A maze she just memorized with the entrances and exits mapped out. The roof was covered with blinking small circles spread out across its surface, except near the stairwell, which made sense.

  “Sensors,” Anvil said. “We’ll need a line across.”

  “Monk and Bella can approach from below. The lowest level runs near this sewer line”—I pointed to the map—“I doubt that’s a coincidence.”

  “Oh, great, sewers,” Bella said. “I’m so looking forward to that.”

  “There’s a good chance they’ve been drained and are unused,” Monk said.

  “Inside, that level is elevator-only access, I don’t like it,” I said, shaking my head. “That can easily become a death trap.”

  “You mean in addition to the cataclysmic amounts of AAx-1 I’ll be detonating?” Monk said, examining the schematic. “Don’t see much of a choice, boss.”

  “Take extra C-4. Just in case.”

  “I always have extra C-4—just in case.”

  “Monk and Bella, you two are on AAx-1 neutralization,” I said, realizing I could be sending them to their deaths. “Cans and Intern, set up base in The Tank, and far enough away from ground zero, while Anvil and I deal with Black Wolf.”

  “You’re going after Victor?” Intern asked. “I strongly advise against—”

  “Can this software give me DNA signatures?”

  “DNA signatures? That kind of stuff is illegal, boss,” Cans said.

  Everyone managed to keep a straight face for about three full seconds before breaking into chuckles.

  “Yes or no?” I asked, when the laughter died down.
“I need you to track Victor’s signature.”

  “I can give you a general area and floor,” Cans answered. “There will be too much interference to give you anything more precise.”

  “That’s plenty. Can you get started on that—”

  The schematic shrank down as a red banner flashed across the screen. Cans began typing quickly as more information scrolled down the screen.

  “Shit,” Cans said under his breath, raising a finger as we all looked at him. “We have a wrinkle.”

  “A wrinkle?” I asked. “What kind of wrinkle?”

  “Lydia found her men at the Royal Park. She thinks it was you.”

  “Me? Really?”

  “Well, you and Anvil,” Cans said, tapping some more. “She’s issued a UDF apprehension order on all of us.”

  “Use of Deadly Force,” Anvil said, looking at me. “I would expect no less.”

  “Nothing changes,” I said, my voice hard. “Expect resistance from HALO, Black Wolf, and CITADEL. No one is playing nice, avoid contact if you can—use your riot rounds.”

  “Riot rounds?” Bella asked. “Even when they’re using live ammo?”

  “I thought you were one of the best?” I asked. “Isn’t that what I read in your file?”

  “One of the best? I am the best.”

  “Prove it,” I said. “Only authorized targets tonight are Victor and Black Wolf—everyone else gets to visit a hospital if they cross your path.”

  “You and Monk will be approaching from underground. You shouldn’t meet anyone except Black Wolf and rogue HALO operatives.”

  “Suits me just fine,” Bella answered with a smile. “Just means more targets.”

  “Keep coms on burst transmission and ambient activation. We stay dark unless otherwise instructed.”

  “I’ve reworked your com frequencies,” Quemi’s voice screamed in my ear.

  “Ah! Q,” I said, wincing. “Lower the volume.”

  “Apologies,” she said when I could hear again. “Let me recalibrate.”

  “Whoa,” I said, rubbing my ear. “I’ll pass if that’s the new frequency.”

  “It’s not. I’ve managed a deeper encryption to my ELF. You should have greater range and be untraceable, although it hasn’t been tested underground yet.”