The Great Game Trilogy

by O. J. Lowe

  “Okay, I see maybe ten hostages in the administrator’s office,” he said. “They look secured down. Think there’s four… No five guys keeping an eye on them. I see two in the corridor outside. There’s another circling a ward a few doors down, he’s pacing. Think there might be some more hostages in the room with him. Oh dear… This has the potential to be messy.”

  “We got this, Chaos Two,” Derenko said. “Don’t worry about it. Just feed us whatever you can get us, and we’ll get it done.”

  “Roger that, Bravo One. Bring home the bacon.”

  “This is Alpha One, we’re in the building. Basement secured. No hostiles down here.”

  If he squinted, Noorland was sure he could see something rising in the distance, but he didn’t move his binoculars to look. He was sure it was Derenko and his team. They’d be using airborne spirits to get to the roof. They’d make their way in and hook up with Wilsin’s team halfway. This mission just looked worse by the second.

  “You’re nervous,” Anne said without raising her head. “It’s distracting.” She winced a little, he saw her flinch. “Sorry. That was unfair.”

  “I am nervous,” Noorland said. “Not what I had planned to do today. How do you do this? I mean if something goes wrong, you’ll survive, and you might even have to watch everyone die? I couldn’t do this every mission I go on.”

  Anne said nothing for a moment but when she did, her voice was uncharacteristically cold. “You get used to it,” she said. “Nothing lasts forever.”

  “Amen to that,” he said softly.

  The rooftop in sight, Derenko guided his thunderbird down and as claws dug into the asphalt of the roof, he hopped down to give Takaris a pat on the neck, glad to have his feet back on solid ground.

  “Good boy,” he said, just hoping that they hadn’t been seen. He unslung his Featherstone, made to secure the area as Harper and Aldiss came in for landing, Harper on an oversized firemoth, Aldiss astride a winged torchmander. Both landed, unslung their weapons and dispelled their spirits. Derenko was glad to see the back of that firemoth if he was honest, something about a five-foot-tall moth he found intensely creepy. He had to admire Mel Harper’s metaphorical balls to ride something like that. Its wings might be huge, but they looked so delicate as they flapped. “Okay team form up. We’re going to enter through that door, make our way down.” He pointed at the roof exit across from them, locked tight, but he wasn’t worried. They could get in. Aldiss had the equipment. They all knew how to use it. Silent entry was something they all knew a little about.

  “Might be alarmed,” Harper said, adjusting her mask. “If it is, they’re going to know we’re here before we even have a chance.”

  She was right, Derenko knew, something he’d already considered. Okocha had already pointed it out. Al Noorland had come up trumps again. If he glanced out over the side of the building, he was sure he could see him and Anne atop one of the other buildings. He waved, just on the off-chance.

  “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “It’s not a problem.” He reached down into his pocket and brought out the chunky grey box, tossing it up and down one handed. “Let’s go, Fank. Time’s an issue.”

  Vazaran fire doors operated on the principle when the door was opened, an alarm wired into the frame of the door would sound, everything tied up on a box on the right-hand side of the frame. It’d be a distinctive box, Okocha had described it in detail, should have numbers on it, always a pair of lights, one green and one red. When the light’s green, he’d said, the system’s active and opening the door will activate the fire alarm. When it’s red, it won’t.

  Noorland had come to the rescue again with a gadget. He’d pointed out it wasn’t meant to be used for this exact purpose but the weak pulse of electromagnetic energy it emitted should be enough to confuse the alarm enough to get through. The only problem was it would need to be physically placed on the device, which was on the other side of the door. The device Aldiss brought out from the bag across his back resembled a camera tripod, three heavy black metal legs with a thick cylinder sticking out the end of it. Aldiss dropped onto his knees and took a long look at the door, then at the penetrator. If the situation hadn’t been so serious, Derenko might have smiled at the name. Only Al Noorland could have come up with something like this and then given it a name like that to boot.

  “Should have just rappelled down from here,” Harper said, glancing down at the edge of the roof. “Hit them through the window of the office, blaze away before they know what’s hit them.”

  Derenko shook his head. “Too risky. We did consider it but without knowing who or what or how many is in there, it’s very dangerous. If there were no hostages, I’d have gone with it. But their safety is paramount. If even one person dies, we’ve failed.”

  “Yep, we got probably every eye in the five kingdoms on this island right now,” Aldiss said, hefting up the penetrator and sticking it to the door through suction cups attached to the legs. He waited, saw the blue lights confirm that it was secured before moving across the cylinder, twisting it and teasing it into calibration. “That was before this happened. Now, we’re so exposed it’s unbelievable. We fuck this up, we’re going to get pilloried by every media outlet across the kingdoms.”

  “Maybe that’s why they did it,” Harper said. “Maybe they’re just dickheads who want to show up Unisco.”

  Derenko said nothing. He was too busy watching Aldiss, double checking the calibrations of the penetrator. The laser needed to be at the right intensity, too weak and it’d fail to burn through, wasting valuable time. Too strong and it’d burn too powerful to control, the potent heat melting the lock and popping the door, which would ruin everything. Eventually they both were satisfied but still he held his breath as Aldiss thumbed the activation. The acrid smell of burning metal filled his nostrils, even filtering through his mask but already it was starting to give way beneath the focused beam.

  Ten seconds later, a hole had formed. Now for the hard part, he thought. Harper brought out the spray, depressed the nozzle and dashed it around the ragged hole. One of them was going to stick their hand inside that hole, feel out the alarm control. Hence the coolant. None of them wanted to scorch themselves on jagged metal. Even through armour, it’d hurt like a bitch if it touched them. He was tempted to tell Harper to do it. She had the thinnest arms. Still he wasn’t prepared to ask anything of anyone on his team he wasn’t prepared to do himself. Aldiss removed the spent penetrator and dropped it back into the bag. They weren’t taking it with them. Unnecessary weight would slow them down. They didn’t have many of them on the island, it’d need to be retrieved later. But right now, they needed to ensure there would be a later. Derenko stepped over to the hole and glanced through it, checking the corridors on either side through the gap. He couldn’t see anyone.

  He could see the outline of the control box, the faint reflection of green light off the far wall. Drawing a slow breath, he removed his glove and put the chunky box into his bare hand, easing it through the hole. It was tight, the edges of it scraped the box but it’d cope, and he grit his teeth as he had to force it through, rotating it around until it was facing the alarm control. The box was magnetic, that was good, meant he didn’t have to worry too much about securing it in place. He removed his hand and put his eye to the hole. Still the light remained green. Just for a moment, he felt doubt rush through him. Had they found the right one?

  “We in yet?” Aldiss wondered. “Is it working?”

  He said nothing. Already he was thinking about alternative entry strategies should this not pay off. Still it remained green.

  “Bravo One, what is your status?” He could hear Brendan in his ear, he still hadn’t exhaled, he realised and let it go sharply. Come on, work, you bastard!

  It was faint, but he saw the glow change from green to red and he felt the relief flood him. Hand back through the hole, he twisted the bar and the door swung silently open. He stuck his head through, sure there was nobody around but
set to check anyway. If there was someone there, they’d surely have been alerted by previous acts. Never assume. That way led to death and pain. He wasn’t about to get killed in action by something so basically dumb.

  “Control, Bravo team has entered the building,” he said triumphantly as the three of them stepped inside. That had been the easy part, he thought. The tough bit was still ahead.

  Like all plans it was doomed to fail at the first sign of action and as they left the basement, Wilsin saw the guy stood down the corridor, back to them and smoking. He had a Broxtie resting at his side on a strap, plumes of thick noxious smoke filling the corridor. He raised a hand, halted Montgomery and Leclerc in their tracks, wondering if they could get around him. He didn’t want to start taking opposition pieces out of the game too early. There had to be a reason the guy was down here. If he’d been despatched here, all it’d take would be one unanswered hail and he’d be missed. Someone would come looking for him…

  Drawing numbers away from the rest of them and into easy ambushes. Or they could start killing the hostages, assume they were under attack. If that was the case, best get it done before they could make any such assumption. He raised one finger, gestured towards the guard and tilted his head, silently telling them he’d get him. Pushing the door open, he started to slowly move across the floor, keeping his breathing shallow and controlled, quiet as a mouse until he was within striking distance.

  For a moment, he held position, fought the urge to cough over the odour of smoke growing ever stronger the closer he got to the guy and then he struck, lunging and grabbing him from behind. He felt the jerk of surprise before he got one arm around his throat, one hand on his head.

  Stun him only... Cut off air, let him pass out, he can be jailed later…

  The thought that went through his head, it was what he should have done. Instead he twisted hard and violent, the thoughts of what had taken place upstairs running through his head and he couldn’t stop himself. The crack of his neck breaking filled the hall and the strangest thing Wilsin realised upon letting the body fall, for the first time making a kill, he didn’t feel regret. He could justify it to himself. He didn’t deserve to live. He’d been complicit in attacking a building of sick people and taking hostages. Furthermore, if he’d been knocked out, he could have shot them in the back. He’d removed a risk. Maybe that was the reason

  Leclerc and Montgomery were behind him, Leclerc stepped past and removed the mask from the corpse’s face. Wilsin didn’t stop him, just raised his Featherstone in case he needed it. He glanced down at the face below, tanned, a bit Serranian, curly black hair and the faintest hint of moustache on the upper lip like he hadn’t shaved for a day or two. He could smell olives. Bit good looking, he supposed. Now he was dead and for what?

  Leclerc was still studying the body as he and Montgomery made to move on. Wilsin halted, glanced back. “Something troubling you, Alpha Three?”

  For a moment, Leclerc said nothing and then looked at him. “This man. I know him. He is… I don’t remember his name but he’s a Fratelli family guy.”

  That brought a reaction. “What?!” Wilsin said.

  “Say again, Alpha Three,” Control said. It was either Brendan or Okocha on the line, Wilsin missed which as he stared at Leclerc.

  “Are you sure about that?!” Montgomery asked. “What the hells is a Fratelli family enforcer doing holding up a hospital in Vazara?”

  Chapter Sixteen. Timebound.

  “One of the things that I’m proud to say we do make all attempts to do is ensure our agents are effective at fighting when circumstances are less than ideal. Low visibility for instance. Or when distracting stimuli are introduced into the mix. You can never plan for every eventuality, but we aim to try. Unarmed combat is always a funny one to plan. It means the weapons have failed and we don’t like to consider failure. Yet sometimes, we must.”

  Tod Brumley, Unisco academy instructor, on training methods.

  The fifteenth day of Summerdawn.

  Wade wasn’t dead.

  It felt like he had, and his body was still moving of its own accord, but he hadn’t yet. Which was good. The pain was good, kept reminding him he was still alive. It had happened when Mallinson had been shot, the blaster had skidded back into his room and there’d been seconds to react. Yanking the drip from his hand had been the worst part, he’d yelled in pain as the needle had broken free. For a moment, he was worried it had snapped, left embedded in his flesh. Then he’d hurled himself at the weapon, tipping the bed as he caught it with a flailing foot, already sure a bruise was forming up where he’d made impact. But he was still alive, and no sooner had it crashed to the floor had he scooped the weapon up and stood behind the door frame in time to see laser fire rip into the room and demolish the bed where he’d lain moments ago, shredding the wood and fabric with impunity.

  He could just about see it, his vision maybe at about sixty percent, he slid the safety off Mallinson’s weapon by touch and as the first shooter stepped into the room, he didn’t hesitate, just shot him in the back of the head at point blank range. Even if he’d had a shield up, it wouldn’t have made a difference.

  He went down, Wade went low and spun around the door, weapon ready to fire. He saw the second guy already aiming but before he could adjust, Wade shot him three times through the chest, springing to a standing position and past him before he could react. He wasn’t going to be doing much else, he’d seen the entry wounds in the guy’s stomach, he might survive only if he got help immediately. He was in the right place for it, he doubted there’d be volunteers. As he ran, not entirely sure where he was going, one thought came through his head clamouring for attention.

  They’d come for him. They’d come straight to his room and attempted a hit on him. Someone knew. He didn’t panic, that wouldn’t help him get out of here. He’d been trained to keep a calm head in the worst circumstances and these were slowly approaching that. Compromised vision, unknown number of hostiles, a potentially huge number of hostages… He wasn’t getting out of this one on his own. He still had Mallinson’s X7 in his hand, he didn’t know if he could hit someone at range with it. Those two guys had been easier; would have been harder to miss but he wouldn’t survive a firefight. Best thing would be to hole up somewhere, keep an eye on the door, blast anyone who came through. It’d be about the only thing he could do. They’d find the two guys eventually. In a situation like this, you had half an hour absolute maximum following the first death before people realised something was wrong. As estimates went, he’d always thought it generous. He just hoped rescue mobilised soon. No way could the Carcaradis Island constabulary handle something like this. They’d be horribly outmatched, undertrained and underprepared. No, it’d be either get a team in from the mainland or, more likely, make a request to Unisco to deal with it. It’d be embarrassing in the short term, but it would be the best thing to do. He just needed to hold out until then.

  The Fratelli crime family was renowned for being one of the largest in the five kingdoms but Wilsin knew, they didn’t have much presence in Vazara. Their main influence spread through Serran, Premesoir and some parts of Canterage, hence no reason why they should be here. The local Vazaran criminals were crazy enough to resist any attempts to organise them, they liked doing their own thing and they weren’t about to have anyone tell them how to do it. Their way was one of violence where the Fratelli’s and their ilk preferred to at least talk about it first before moving onto dismemberment and actual bodily harm.

  So, with that in mind, what one was doing in a hospital on Carcaradis Island? Wilsin didn’t know, he could just hear Okocha’s voice filtering through his earpiece, painfully aware of the seconds ticking by. They’d made the first kill, they didn’t have long to get into position before he was missed.

  “Yeah, got him, his name’s Richie Capelli. Also known as the Chain.”

  “Lovely,” Lysa muttered dryly. “Who names these people after hardware?”

  “Several c
ounts of suspected trafficking, suspected murder… Yeah pleasant reading. Going to add domestic terrorism to that dossier,” Okocha continued, ignoring her. “So… I’m at a loss here as to what’s going on.”

  “It’s not important,” Leclerc said, surprising Wilsin. “I mean, it’s not. Worry about that later, we have bigger problems now than someone being where they shouldn’t.”

  “Well said Alpha Three,” Wilsin said. “Come on, let’s move out. Worry about it later.”

  “Heh, what chance all of them being Fratelli family goons?” Lysa asked, a question Wilsin had already considered. Even if they were and by some glorious fluke of nature they could take them alive, getting them to admit Giacomo Fratelli had put them up to it would probably be a pipe dream too far. The people who knew stuff tended to be almost fanatically loyal and close mouthed. More to the point, they were probably miles away.

  It took them no time at all to run into trouble and Derenko hissed a curse as they rounded the corner and saw three guys walking the same direction towards them, two of them joking and laughing, another cold and focused. It was that focused man who survived, he saw them and dived for cover into a room, the merry men going for their blasters and a trio of shots hammered into them, knocking them down dead.

  Cover blown and now they really were pushed for time. He’d shot, Aldiss and Harper had too, and they’d been good hits. They weren’t getting back up, he confirmed, as he traced the path the other guy had gone with his eyes. That had torn it. It’d be only a matter of seconds to send a hail and… Couldn’t think. Had to act. He pressed against the wall, the door had been left open. He briefly flashed his hand across the doorway, withdrew it quickly and heard the shots flash by.

  “Come on in, the water’s lovely!” he heard the cackling voice roar. “I’m waiting for you.”