Sheepdog

by Orlando A. Sanchez

  “Speaking of tests,” I said, “the Armadillo didn’t make it.”

  “I’m aware,” Quemi said. “I’m assigning you mandatory defensive driving classes—provided you survive this mission.”

  “Me? What about Anvil?”

  “What about Anvil?”

  “She was the one driving the Armadillo.”

  “The question you need to ask is: was she driving because she wanted to, or because you lacked the skills to do so?”

  I opened my mouth and closed it again. Everyone, except Anvil, turned away to hide their smiles.

  “She makes a valid argument,” Anvil said with a nod. “Don’t worry, I will support your re-education.”

  “This is total discrimination.”

  “Of course you feel that way,” Quemi said. “Make sure you come home so you can file a formal protest. Fifty-four.”

  “Sixteen,” we all answered in unison.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  Anvil and I stood on the roof of Columbia University’s International School of Public Affairs as night wrapped itself around us. Adjacent and identical to the ISPA, stood HALO’s building—hiding in plain sight.

  “We need clear access to the stairwell to avoid the sensors,” Anvil said, staring into the night before she unloaded her pack. “Do you think he’s in there?”

  “He’s about five floors down with a massive security detail,” Cans said over the com. “Looks like some sort of cold lab.”

  “Let me know if he moves,” I said. “He’s down there, along with a small army of what he likes to call his ‘redshirts’.”

  “Redshirts?” Anvil asked, preparing the grapple gun. “Will they be wearing actual red shirts? That will make targeting them easier.”

  “You had a peculiar childhood, didn’t you?”

  “I lived a warrior’s childhood.”

  “Considering we aren’t in feudal Japan, that is peculiar.”

  “Location is irrelevant to the creation of a warrior. You know this.”

  “I do. Doesn’t change the fact that yours was peculiar.”

  “Thanks to my ‘peculiar’ childhood, I’ve managed to save our lives several times—you are welcome. Now, tell me about these redshirts.”

  There were moments she understood my references, and others where I think she acted obtuse just to aggravate me. Her deadpan delivery revealed nothing.

  “Redshirts,” I said, shaking my head, “are expendables, cannon fodder—men Victor will instruct to kill us.”

  “Understood,” she said with a nod. “Underlings deluded enough to follow a psychotic madman for money or ideology.”

  “Or both.”

  “Or both,” she said, taking aim at a wall across from us, “which means they are deserving of death.”

  “It’s what they will try to give us.”

  “Then,” she said, firing the grapple gun with a muffled shot, “we must dispatch them first.”

  The thin, ultra-strong cable snaked its way across the space between buildings, led by a titanium-wing round, which buried itself into the wall six inches deep, and spread out, anchoring the cable. Anvil pulled on the cable to make sure it was secure. She attached a carabiner to her combat armor at the waist and anchored the cable into the wall next to us with another muffled shot.

  “I’m sure that can hold you,” I said, testing the line with a tug. “Not so sure about my weight.”

  “You need to go on a diet,” she said, prodding my midsection. “Don’t worry, if the line disengages while you are hanging between buildings, the ground will stop you abruptly—you won’t feel a thing…maybe. It would not be a good death.”

  “That’s comforting,” I said, looking over the edge. “We’re up twenty stories, if I fall there won’t be much left—it would just be death. I agree, mostly bad.”

  She jumped up gracefully, hooked both arms around the cable, followed by her legs. When she was horizontal and upside down, she attached the carabiner from her armor to the cable.

  “If you fall, I promise to shed a tear for you. Once I’m off, don’t delay.”

  She pulled herself across the space between buildings, making it look effortless. Her slim figure darted across the cable, crossing the distance with each pull. She reached the other side and dropped near the stairwell soundlessly.

  I attached a carabiner to my waist and pulled myself up as gracefully as a herniated elephant. I managed to get one leg hooked around the cable and pulled myself across. By the time I disengaged, I was drenched in sweat.

  “Ethan Hunt makes that stuff look easy,” I said with a grunt. “It’s harder than it looks.”

  “You are no Ethan Hunt and this mission isn’t impossible,” Anvil answered. “Ready?”

  “Ethan Hunt you get, but not redshirts?”

  “Stop getting so emotional and focus.”

  I stared after her as she entered the stairwell.

  “I’m jumping off the side when we leave. No way am I doing that cable pull again.”

  “Suit yourself,” Anvil said, unsheathing her blades. “I intend to walk out the front door.”

  TWENTY-SIX

  We entered the stairwell with weapons drawn. I checked the time: half-past seven.

  “Building should be empty,” I said, taking point. “Anyone we meet is going to be a hostile target.”

  Anvil nodded. She had entered mushin—which meant the mind without mind. This meant a fully awake and aware mind not fixed or occupied by emotion or thought—not that Anvil was overly emotional to begin with. When she entered this state, I tried to stay out of her path. It was Anvil, and not, at the same time.

  In mushin, she operated on another level of mental clarity, awareness, and enhanced perception. She wasn’t hindered by conscious thought, ideas, judgments, emotion, pre-conception, or self-consciousness. She was totally aware. It is a mind that is totally calm—open and reactive to subtle sensory input, intuition, and spontaneous action.

  In layman’s terms, she became a Terminator.

  We reached the top floor as three Black Wolf operatives turned the corner. Anvil pounced as I fired. I dropped the first operative using surprise. The other two recovered fast, but not fast enough. Anvil leaped to the side and wall ran, using the wall to close the distance. The two operatives never stood a chance as she landed past them—slitting both their throats.

  It took a second for the attack to register. Her blades were that sharp. She flicked her wrists in a chiburui motion—a move designed to remove excess blood from a blade, before wiping them on her legs.

  The two operatives grabbed at their throats before collapsing to their knees and falling forward. The next second, Anvil backflipped behind the corner as rounds of gunfire ripped through the wall where she stood.

  That’s when the floor went dark.

  “Power to the building has been cut,” Cans said over the com. “Sub-levels still fully operational.”

  “Do I want to know what happens if the sub-levels lose power?”

  “Without the Cascader to regulate the AAx-1, say goodbye to everything north of 110th Street,” Monk said. “Probably most of the Bronx and Westchester too.”

  “Monk, get your ass moving,” I said, grabbing to flash bangs and tossing them around the corner. “I know where I’d be headed if I were Victor.”

  “Holy hell,” Bella said. “He’s right. Get moving.”

  The darkened floor erupted in light. Anvil sped around the corner, delivering death before the operatives could recover. We were standing on the short side of the rectangular floor with the stairwells. I kicked in the door and ran in, followed closely by Anvil.

  “Hostiles on twenty, heading down to fifteen,” I said over the com. “Cans, where’s my target?”

  “Still on fifteen, but you have a swarm coming in hot. Every floor between twenty and fifteen is populated. Get out of the stairwell.”

  We managed to reach seventeen before I heard the boots. Black Wolf was good, but we were better. Anvil grabbe
d a handful of what appeared to be white marbles from a small pack and tossed them down the stairs. The small marbles were made of silicon carbide discs arranged to form a sphere.

  The discs were arranged around a timed explosive. When it went off, it sent the paper-thin, razor sharp discs in every direction. They sliced through everything in their path, earning Monk’s creation their name—slicers. I tore open the stairwell door, rolled onto seventeen, and under the gunfire that erupted a second later, threatening to bisect me. Screams reached us from the stairwell as the slicers detonated.

  The Black Wolf operatives that made it onto seventeen from the stairwell were a bloody mess. The group that tried to shred me encountered a merciless Anvil, while I finished what was left of the slicer victims.

  I lifted my Chameleon after ten rounds, used half a second to empty the shells from my gun, and another half second to push a speed-loader into the cylinder.

  “Monk, status.”

  “Breaching the sewer line now to enter the lowest level. ETA fifteen minutes to main lab.”

  “Boss,” Cans’ agitated voice came over the com. “Either your target has learned to fly, or he fell down a hole. He’s dropping fast.”

  “Fell down a hole?” I said, looking at Anvil. “What the hell does that mean?”

  We both turned to the elevator banks at the same time.

  “He’s using the elevator shaft,” I said as Anvil jammed a blade between the doors to give us enough space to pry them open. “Monk, get that Cascader in there! I don’t care if you need to use all of your C-4! Do it, now!”

  I managed to pry open the elevator doors enough for Anvil and me to fit through the gap. I looked down and noticed the absence of elevator cars. The shaft I was looking down was completely empty. I didn’t see an elevator cable. Anvil stood in front of the shaft next to mine.

  “Where are the elevators?” Anvil asked, looking into the shaft. “I don’t see—”

  I grabbed her arm, pulling Anvil away from the opening and into me as an elevator screamed past, crashing onto the ground floor with a whine of metal and destruction.

  “I think that was express,” I said. “Not the one we need.”

  “Arigato gozaimsu,” she said with a short bow. “That would not have been a good death.”

  “No kidding,” I said, stepping to the edge and assessing the wreckage of the mangled elevator below. “That’s our way down now.”

  Our combat armor covered our hands, providing an extra layer of protection over rough and hostile terrain. I looked over at the elevator cable—our only way down. It wasn’t going to get more hostile than that tonight. Victor would be near the sub-levels by now. We were running out of time.

  Anvil jumped into the shaft and grabbed the cable several feet down. She slid for another few feet before stopping and looking up at me.

  I looked up again, even though I knew it was irrational. Elevator shafts didn’t hold two elevators on the same floor. I jumped down into the shaft, with arms outstretched.

  I reached for the cable—and missed.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  A split-second after I missed, imagining how hard the bottom of the shaft would feel in the nanosecond right before I redecorated the walls, Anvil extended her body off the cable in a flagpole position, her legs scissoring my body and intercepting my fall, while holding on to the cable with both hands.

  My momentum caused us to spin like a renegade Cirque de Soleil act.

  “You need to grab the cable!” Anvil yelled. “I cannot hold much…longer.”

  I squirmed my body around and managed to get one hand around the cable, slowing our descent and spin. When I got my second hand around the cable, she released her legs from my waist. It was one of the few times I saw her gasping for breath.

  “This time it’s my turn to say thank you,” I said. “You have some strong legs.”

  “You need to lose weight, Shep.”

  “If we don’t get down there before Victor, it won’t matter.”

  “True,” she said and let go of the cable. “Meet you below.”

  My momentary shock gave way to mild surprise when I realized how close we were to the ground floor—and my death. I let go of the cable, landing on the ground floor. The elevator doors on the adjacent shaft were pried open. I looked up to make sure another car wasn’t rushing down to crush me, before squeezing through the gap.

  The sub-level elevators were across the lobby floor. I ran across the green marble floor, sliding behind the large slab of a reception area desk just as gunfire exploded across its surface, punching holes through the side. Guess it was only a marble covering.

  “Faux marble over wood, Shepherd,” Victor called out. “Fake strength covering a weak-ass foundation—just like you. Show your face, or I end your girlfriend.”

  I stood slowly with my hands up.

  “She’s not my girlfriend,” I said. “Let her go.”

  Anvil raised an eyebrow and glanced at me. It was a look that let me know we would revisit the girlfriend comment later—if I was still alive. I saw the glint of metal and noticed her karambits thrown to one side of the lobby.

  “You think I’m suicidal?” Victor asked. “I’ve seen her in action. Slide your gun over—easy.”

  I placed my Chameleon on the floor and slid it over—close to the karambits.

  Anvil was surrounded by three Black Wolf operatives, while another held her in a headlock with a gun to her forehead. The three in front of her stood back, all aiming rifles at her. She looked surprisingly calm.

  “You okay?” I asked Anvil. “You want to explain how you let them get the drop on you?”

  “Hey, hey!” Victor yelled, waving his Chameleon. “Focus.”

  “Seeing as how it takes four of your men to stop her from gutting all of you,” I said, glancing at Anvil, “I was just wondering how she let this happen.”

  “Let it happen? Are you insane? We are Black Wolf—no one overcomes the strength of the pack. This fight was over before it began. You and your team never stood a chance.”

  “I have no joy, boss,” Bella said, her voice measured and calm. It meant she was looking down the scope of her rifle, without a clear shot. “If you can get him over just a foot, I can open his third eye and enlighten his ass—permanently.”

  “No.” I shook my head. “Not yet.”

  “No? She’s dead, unless you have your friend downstairs restore the power,” Victor said, aiming his Chameleon at me. “Call him. I know you’re on coms.”

  “This is what you call a lose-lose situation for me, brother,” I said. “If I tell him to restore the power—you go downstairs to get Earthquakers.”

  “Damn straight,” Victor said. “After the Union Square test run I can unload them for two mil. Each. I have fifty devices down there, primed and ready to ship.”

  “Probably buyers all over the world too, right?”

  “Enough talk,” Victor said, shooting the reception desk next to me. “Tell your man to restore the power, or Anvil dies—now.”

  “I’m curious,” I said, looking at Anvil. “Would this be a good death?”

  She gave me a slight nod.

  “Shoot her,” I said, looking at Victor. “I swear it’s like having the finger of God on my neck, day in and day out. I can’t escape her or her driving. Honestly, you’d be doing me a favor.”

  “Finger of God?” Victor said, slowly narrowing his eyes at me. “Get down!”

  I was across the floor before the realization hit him. Bella pink-misted the three operatives guarding Anvil. I slid into our weapons, holstered my Chameleon, and tossed Anvil a blade, keeping one of her karambits for myself. I heard the fourth operative go down, choking on his own blood, as I approached Victor with a blade.

  “Let’s do this,” I said, motioning for him to come close.

  “You were never a knife man, Shepherd,” Victor said, holstering his gun and circling. “I’m going to enjoy watching you bleed.”

  “You first,�
� I said, drawing my Chameleon and firing. The round penetrated his forehead, freezing his face in an expression of surprise as he fell back, breathing his last. “Time for you and Black Wolf to die.”

  The first tremor shook the building.

  “Cascader is active!” Monk yelled over the com. “Get out of the building!”

  Anvil and I were headed out of the front entrance when a bank of floodlights blinded us.

  “Gideon Shepherd, Lily Watanabe, you are ordered to surrender,” an angry voice said over a megaphone. “Failure to comply will be met with deadly force. Put your hands up and get down on your knees!”

  “Lydia isn’t fooling around this time,” I said, handing Anvil her blade. “Are you in the mood to surrender?”

  I put my hands up.

  “Not particularly.”

  “We can’t have them racing in after us,” I said. “The building’s about to collapse.”

  “Bella, could you do something about those lights?” Anvil asked, putting her hands up. “We have three exits available from our current location. The closest one is behind you and to your left. I suggest we use that one if Bella decides to act tonight.”

  “This is your last warning!” yelled the voice on the megaphone. “Surrender or we will open fire.”

  “Bringing the darkness in three…two…one,” Bella said as the floodlights began exploding. “Get out and meet at Bravo. Monk will have The Tank ready.”

  We raced across the lobby to the nearest exit, as CITADEL fell back. I paused for a moment to grab Victor’s Chameleon, on my way to the exit. We made it two blocks away, before the building fell in on itself with a roar. I stopped to look back at what used to be HALO headquarters.

  “Tell me you got out, Monk,” I said, still looking at the destruction.

  “I’m on your six.” Monk answered.

  I turned to see The Tank rumbling up to where Anvil and I stood. It slowed down slightly, a side door opening long enough for us to jump in, before speeding away.