Ripper (Event Group Thrillers)

by David L. Golemon

  Smith closed the cell phone and then pulled Sarah from the backseat of the car as his Black Team moved into place. From the far side of the large Tahoe he watched as a four-man team went into the alleys on both sides of the square building. Once there they quickly set up a transmitter that would send a burst of electronic jamming noise straight into the video surveillance cameras on each corner of the building. His eyes then moved to the large step van as it pulled up in front of the pawn shop. His fifteen-man assault element was now in place and waiting for him to enter the building. He reached into his pants pocket and brought out a small roll of tape. Sarah watched as he tore a strip off and placed it in his hand.

  “This is your big moment. You can do as I say or die with the men inside of that building if they resist. It’s up to you. Either way I’ll still be the happy soul I am right at this moment.”

  “What’s happening with Jack and Alice?” Sarah asked, her blackened eyes looking upward into the dark at the black shape before her.

  Smith looked at his watch, raised his small radio, and then placed a small headphone in his right ear. He hooked the small microphone close to the corner of his mouth and smiled at the diminutive McIntire.

  “Do as I say and in less than an hour you’ll be back with them again. Do not act accordingly and my man has orders to kill both of them. Now, if you please?” he gestured toward the street.

  Sarah was taken by the arm, and as he started across the busy road Smith contacted his men.

  “Team One, fifteen seconds after we enter the shop you will initiate the blinding of their optic security systems. Team Two, at that time you will enter the area through the front and back doors.”

  Sarah knew the drill well and understood that Smith was receiving responding clicks through his earpiece telling him their individual teams were ready. She knew she had to do something to warn Jack’s men inside the shop.

  The two stepped up to the door. “Smile miss, you’re about to see the best assault team in the world go to work—something very few people have ever seen and lived to talk about.” Smith gestured for Sarah to open the front door. “And be sure to place your thumb properly on the pressure plate located in the center of the door handle please. We do need them to read your thumb print accurately.”

  Sarah cursed deep inside as she realized the man had figured out the first line of defense for the pawn shop. The scan would be read and the security men in the back of the shop would not be alerted to any trouble, especially from one of their own. She pressed down on the thumbplate, knowing that Europa was sending a precise rendering of the swirls and valleys of her thumbprint through her security system. She pulled the door open and as she entered saw the first of the Event Group security men turn away from the customer he was assisting. He gave her a half smile, nodded, and then turned back to his customer, not aware of the danger posed by the man accompanying her inside.

  As soon as they were inside, they heard a slight buzzing sound as the electronic burst of energy from outside struck the security cameras on the building’s sides and back. Smith quickly pushed Sarah to the floor and pulled the silenced nine millimeter from where he had it hidden behind his back. As he placed his foot onto Sarah’s back, the security man reacted far faster than Smith would have thought possible. He had his own weapon out almost as quickly. Smith fired only once, catching the marine security man in the head, knocking him into the stunned and shocked customer. Then he moved the large silencer a few inches and placed another bullet into the young boy who had been inquiring about the guitar.

  “You bastard,” Sarah said as loud as she could, eliciting a sharp kick delivered by Smith to her kidneys.

  Smith took a quick step to the left and saw the clerk behind the glass counter look up at the sound of the muffled weapon’s discharge and Sarah’s shout of anger. The two bullets flew down the crowded aisle of CDs and other possessions given up. The rounds struck the man in the chest and neck, dropping the air force sergeant in an instant.

  At that moment his assault element entered through the front door and quickly started up the four aisles toward the rear of the shop. That was when a sharp tone sounded. Smith knew the alarm had been tripped.

  “Damn it,” he said, knowing that the security element had been far faster than he realized they could be. He gestured for his men to move forward.

  As the black-clad men jumped the counter, one was taken down by a security marine coming from the back. A spray of red-colored mist filled the air as the shotgun blast removed his hooded head in a microsecond. Before the marine could turn the shotgun on the next man, three Black Team members cut him down. They moved quickly through the curtain. Sarah heard several discharges of automatic weapons that could only have come from security personnel in the back. As she flinched on the tile floor, she saw another of the Black Team thrown back through the curtain separating the front of the shop from the back. She head Smith curse at the fast response of Jack’s men. Then she heard the muffled reports of several weapons as they finished the task at hand. Sarah shook her head as she was harshly pulled from the floor.

  “Your assistance is needed in the back,” Smith said as he pushed her forward, angrier than ever over the loss of three of his men.

  As he and Sarah pushed through the curtain, Smith looked around and saw a small storage area and then the two security personnel that had opened up on the assault team. One of the men moaned on the floor as he lay in a pool of his own blood. Sarah closed her swollen eyes when she recognized the man. No, she corrected herself, not a man, just a boy. He was Albert Petrakis, a U.S. Army sergeant that had only been on the security team for a year. As he moved his head, Smith stepped over the boy. Sarah turned the sergeant over and cradled his head as Smith took in the back office. He made a cursory inspection for more traps.

  McIntire was beside herself. She had never seen such ruthless behavior from anyone, much less Americans as these men obviously were. She was pulled up from the floor by one of the black-clad men, but she angrily shook him off, still holding the sergeant’s head. The shoulder wound was serious and she knew if she didn’t stop the bleeding the massacre of the security element at gate two would be complete. She looked up and saw Smith looking down at her with a bemused look.

  “You had better shoot me too, because I go no farther.”

  Smith kept the strange look on his face and nodded, making Sarah think he was about to grant her request. Instead he nodded toward the wounded soldier. “Bring him along. I think he’ll be the key to what’s behind door number one.” He looked back at Sarah as he reached down and pulled her to her feet and actually tossed her farther into the office area. Two of his men yanked the sergeant up with a ruthlessness she had never witnessed before. Smith passed by Sarah as she leaned against one of the desks.

  The large man placed his silenced weapon into a shoulder holster and walked past the spilled blood of the sergeant but came to a stop when he saw that another one of his team was down in the back-office portion of the pawn shop. He angrily grabbed Sarah by the arm and shook her. “Before I leave here I’m going to find out just exactly who you people are. To have a security element that is capable of killing my men with such abandon, well, let’s just say that I’m impressed.”

  As McIntire looked down, she saw the darts protruding from the men lying on the floor. The anesthetic projectiles had been exploded outward from a false-fronted computer and the facing of the large desk it sat upon. She could still see the smoke rising from the wood and plastic as the security man, who was now lying dead on the floor next to the desk, had triggered the booby trap that had sent three hundred darts into the Black Team’s faces and necks. As they stepped over them, she could see the men were out cold and would be for hours.

  “I am duly impressed. Booby traps and such a fast response to our assault could only mean your man Collins trained his men well.” Smith angrily hit Sarah on the side of her head as he saw the red flashing light illuminating the room. Sarah went to one knee from the
harshness of the blow to her head. She shook her head but refused to wipe the blood away from her slashed cheek.

  The entire assault team was shocked when the synthesized voice of Europa sounded through a small speaker overhead. The suddenness of the announcement made the armed team jump and aim their weapons in every direction.

  A Code One contamination alert on level seventeen has been detected. All departmental personnel are required to gather in secure locations for possible complex-wide evacuation.

  Sarah was stunned and angry that the warning wasn’t about the security breach at gate number two but about another emergency somewhere deep inside the complex.

  “It seems your people have a larger problem than just a break-in at the pawn shop.” Smith again reached down and pulled Sarah to her feet. “I think this could be rather fortuitous. You men bring the sergeant along.” He glared at Sarah. “If you don’t get inside, the sergeant here will take many more bullets to areas that merely cause pain. Then I’ll personally place one into his head. Understand?” Sarah was pushed toward the wall. “I didn’t want all of this damage, especially to American personnel, so that should tell you the seriousness of the matter at hand. Now my dear, shall we go see what all of the commotion is about?”

  Sarah lowered her head but placed her palm on the disguised plate in the wall so the security system of Europa could read her palm print. As it did, a small false-fronted wall slid up and into its frame. Beyond the false wall Smith was amazed and pleased to see a set of shiny stainless-steel elevator doors.

  “Now this is impressive.”

  EVENT GROUP COMPLEX,

  NELLIS AFB, NEVADA

  Everett and ten members of the Group’s security team were the first to arrive on level seventeen. They were greeted by the flashing red emergency lights lining the upper portion of the curving hallway. The Europa computer station was flashing green and the audible warnings she produced alerted everyone on that level to evacuate. Carl waved men left and right to viral contamination suits that were kept every fifteen feet along the wall. Carl moved quickly to the Europa station and placed his thumbprint against the glass. Europa quickly identified it.

  “Europa, shut down the alarm warnings on seventeen; we can’t think down here.”

  “Yes, Captain Everett.”

  As he looked around, the alarms ceased, but the red flashing lights continued as a visual warning. Several Event Group staff hurried down the hallway and Carl held out an arm to slow them down.

  “Take it easy, nobody’s dropping dead yet. Europa is routing all of the elevators to the center hallway and the far end away from lab 700-2.”

  The man and the woman, two people Everett recognized from the Biology Department, nodded their heads, gaining confidence when they saw the ex-SEAL giving orders. “How many Group people on this level?” Everett asked.

  “I’m not sure. I think I saw Dr. Pollock earlier inside the lab where the viral alarm sounded,” the thin male technician said trying to catch his breath.

  “I know Lieutenant Mendenhall was here also; that’s every one of our people,” the woman added.

  “Good, now take the elevator to the gymnasium; everyone will go there for the evacuation.”

  Carl watched the man and woman turn and start walking at a fast gait toward the elevator he just used. He shook his head and turned as one of his men handed him the plastic package with the viral suit inside. As he tore it open he heard a voice from about fifteen feet away. He looked up and saw Colonel Bannister and Virginia Pollock walking toward him.

  “You don’t need that captain,” the colonel said as he stopped in front of the stern-looking Everett. “The spill is contained inside of the clean room. We have lost about three CCs of the material.”

  “How in the hell did this happen, Doc?” Carl asked Virginia, not trusting the opinion of a man that has had his status as a Group member deactivated.

  “The atomic spectroscopy unit didn’t burn the sample at the specified temperature. Instead of burning the sample to vaporize it, it only evaporated into the air. The protocol was right; they just didn’t make the correct entry.” Virginia looked over at the colonel with a shake of her head. “It seems our guests were in too much of a hurry.”

  “That’s not fair Doctor. We don’t know your equipment as well as you.”

  Everett saw that Virginia was about to respond when he shook his head.

  “I don’t think the need is there to evacuate your facility. We have been through this before. As long as the room remains sealed, we can clean up any leftover particles using robotic means.”

  Everett looked from the colonel to Virginia just as Will Mendenhall ran up to the trio. He was soon followed by the other Dr. Bannister. Carl made a quick decision and then stepped up to the Europa terminal once more. He placed his thumb on the touch screen again.

  “Europa, continue the alarm on all levels. Order the evacuation of the complex authorized by Everett, Carl C. Security 11789, code 1-1-A.”

  Virginia looked from Everett to the colonel. “We don’t take chances with our people, Colonel. You should remember at least that. The captain knows what he’s doing.”

  Everett lifted the phone next to the terminal and made the announcement himself. The protocol would have the four hundred and twelve personnel on base that night gather in the gymnasium and sports field for a head count, and then they would take the massive cargo elevator up to level one where they would exit through gate one inside the old dilapidated hangar to be met by fifteen air force buses supplied by Nellis.

  “I know this is just a precaution, but it’s totally unnecessary,” Bannister said even as Gloria took his elbow and shook her head.

  “No, we don’t know the unknown element that was in that formula. If it’s a fogging agent, we don’t know what the lessened burn will do to it. We need these people out of here until we get that sample sealed and under control. We can utilize the supercomputer and verify it’s under control,” Gloria said.

  The colonel was not pleased with his daughter’s overestimation of the strength of Perdition’s Fire.

  “You’re qualifying this formula as a possible viral agent, whereas we are not convinced.”

  “Dad, we have this gentleman,” she turned and faced Mendenhall, “and the lieutenant’s testimony that says it’s more than likely a viral inhalant. That means any sample not cleaned up could be missed and spread.”

  “That’s good enough for me,” Everett said as he nodded to Mendenhall. “Will, take the doctors back to the lab and make sure protocol is followed. Have Europa and Virginia take them through it step by step with not so much as a period or comma overlooked.”

  “Yes, sir,” Will said as he gestured for the two Bannisters to follow him back to the lab.

  Everett faced Virginia next. “Doc, get this thing under control as fast as you can. As long as I have people on the surface, this Group’s security status is compromised.”

  “Carl, get Niles to the surface. He’s the priority. I’ll be here, that’s enough.”

  Everett knew his duty as laid down by Jack’s new safety standards initiated not long after he took over the Security Department. The number-one rule, and Compton hated it, was to get the director out of the complex.

  “Good luck, Doc. If you think things are going to go south inside that lab, get to the sports complex,” he said smiling. “You remember where that is, Bronco Nagurski?”

  “You bet,” she said returning the smile.

  Everett watched her leave to follow the CDC people being herded by Mendenhall back to laboratory number 700-2—the chemical and viral containment clean room.

  Everett only hoped the expensive laboratory held up to its impressive name.

  CIA HEADQUARTERS

  LANGLEY, VIRGINIA

  Director of Operations Samuel Peachtree angrily closed his door and turned on Hiram Vickers. He paced to his desk but didn’t sit down. He made sure to reach under his desk and switch off the office recording device.
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  “Do you think that was low key?” he asked angrily, placing his hands squarely on his desk and leaning far enough forward that Vickers thought he would fall over.

  Hiram took the anger in stride. “I did what was necessary.”

  “Those two people were not only citizens of the United States, they were fellow agents. How could you allow this to get to that level of dysfunction? All you had to do was follow protocol and inform her desk of the fucking test!” Peachtree angrily straightened and turned toward his office window, looking out into the woods surrounding the complex at Langley. “It’s such a natural function of your office that she probably would have ignored it.”

  “Not her type. She’s one of those people who happen to take her job seriously, thus we couldn’t allow her to see we were tracking a possible American military asset.”

  Peachtree turned so suddenly that Vickers was impressed with the old man’s agility.

  “That is exactly my point you idiot. She was good at her job, which was why trying to sneak this test by her desk was a moronic move! We could have explained it far better if a goddamn spotlight hadn’t been placed on it.”

  “Regardless, the problem has been solved.”

  “May I remind you that our job with this new department is to gather corporate intelligence through the use of the Black Teams, not the killing of innocents? If you can’t do that without killing people you work with, we obviously chose the wrong man for the job,” he hissed as he glared at Vickers.

  “If that’s the case we better stop our Black Team in Nevada because they just eliminated one hell of a lot of American citizens for the same exact reason I did—self-preservation, Mr. Director of Operations. Sometimes the money collected comes with hidden costs,” Vickers countered.

  The director of operations managed to ignore the comment about money, as that was the dirtiest part of their covert operations—the gathering of wealth. It wasn’t just for themselves for their hard work and patriotism, but because utilizing the Black Teams was an expensive proposition. The older man calmed visibly as he tried to put his house back in order.