by Matt Roberts
The two guards approached the top of the stairs and the moment they entered the line of the window frame Shaw took the shots. Miller reacted instantly, gliding in behind to cushion their landings; a mysterious crash was not what they wanted at this delicate stage. Once he’d laid them down onto the floor he opened their jackets and took possession of each of their handguns. Shaw then continued to keep watch as he lifted each body in turn and concealed them inside one of the nearby rooms.
“Alright. We’re set,” Miller reported.
***
As Owyn and O’Brien emerged into the sunlight they were greeted by a bow-tied waiter carrying a silver platter. “A drink, sir? Madame?” he said, presenting them with tall glasses of bubbling champagne.
“Thank you,” they each replied taking a glass.
It was just one minute past 1600, and already the entry to the estate was packed full of party guests.
“Impressive,” Owyn remarked as he caught his first glimpse of the mansion. “Rodriguez is extravagant if nothing else.”
“So are his guests,” O’Brien said dryly. Marvelling at the wonders of the estate was the least of her interests. Her attention was fixed solely on the hordes of lavishly dressed attendees; her disgust was written across her face. O’Brien certainly wasn’t one to indulge in her own appearance. She preferred to occupy the shadows and steer well clear of attention, not attract it, so it was hardly surprising that she was so sickened by this whole ordeal.
Before the pair could slip into the crowd they were spotted by another partygoer who skipped over to intercept. “Ah, Mr Chambers,” the man buoyantly exclaimed, speaking with an unmistakable pompous, posh English accent. “We meet at last!”
As Owyn made eye contact his contact lenses rapidly scanned the man’s irises and searched through the DPD identity database before listing the man’s information before his eyes. “Mr Davenport,” Owyn addressed him. “My apologies. I almost missed you.”
Mr Davenport gave a hearty laugh. “Don’t worry, sir. No offence taken. I do have a particular knack for slipping under the radar, especially in the case of someone as esteemed as yourself.”
Owyn laughed accordingly.
“Ah, where are my manners,” Mr Davenport reminded himself as he turned to O’Brien. “How could I forget the lovely Eliza?” He bowed, prompting her to reluctantly offer a curtsy in return. “Even more beautiful than I had imagined. If neither of you mind me saying, of course!” He burst into laughter again.
O’Brien battled the urge to choke on her disgust before forcing a shy smile.
“I’d best be getting back now. Wouldn’t want the missus to become suspicious now would I?” Mr Davenport said, much to the delight of both of them. “But you must indulge me on some of the details of your project before the end of the night, Mr Chambers. Don’t think I’m letting you leave without getting something out of you!” He then scampered off back to another group of guests.
“Please don’t make me talk to any more of these people,” O’Brien grumbled.
“At least we know our cover works. And it shouldn’t be too hard to get noticed.”
“Great.” She let out a sigh.
Soon the gates opened and the army of guests filed into the courtyard. As they moved into the main building Owyn made sure to assess all angles of the entryway and made note of every stairwell and passageway. With every hall that he caught a glimpse of Sully pointed out guard locations and patrol routes through his contact lenses so that he could begin to plot his route. The mission depended heavily on Owyn’s judgement so he couldn’t afford to miss anything.
Finally, after almost five minutes of meandering through the halls of the museum like manor, they reached the main hall. The doors slammed shut behind them and Owyn and O’Brien were forced to resign to their fate for the time being. Above their heads, a huge glass dome allowed sunlight to beam down and fill the entire expanse of the room. Carved wooden balconies lined the perimeter, and beautifully cut marble pillars supported the intricately patterned ceiling around the dome. Large round tables draped in white silk cloths were scattered all about the room until the wooden floorboards transitioned into a wide open dance floor. Beyond that was a raised stage section on the far side where the brass band had already leapt into action.
One of the waiters brushed past Owyn’s shoulder. He glanced around to see the familiar face of Sergeant Myles Anderson, leader of Delta Squad. He was a broad shouldered Alabama born African American man with the menacing physique and shaven skull more likely seen on a drill sergeant than a humble waiter. Owyn wasn’t exactly sure how, but somehow everyone was buying the disguise.
They nodded to each other. Having identified his support, Owyn’s next task was to locate the target.
“Come on,” he whispered to O’Brien before leading off towards the far side of the room.
As they neared the front of the crowd, Owyn stopped suddenly. Near the left corner of the stage stood a group of three men. In the middle of the trio was Rodriguez.
“You got eyes on the target?” O’Brien asked her partner.
“I see him. Have we got an exit?” He kept his eyes facing forwards so not to arouse suspicion while O’Brien discreetly peered over his shoulder. Sully used her contact lenses to highlight a door on the eastern side of the room, directing her towards Miller’s location.
“Eight o’clock. One guard.”
“Can you handle it?”
“Not a problem.”
“Good. Let’s move.”
Owyn placed his glass down on the table beside him and moved them a little closer to the stage, putting them in clear view from Rodriguez’ position. Given a closer look, Owyn recognised one of the other two men.
“Colonel Bauer,” he noted out loud. “What the hell’s he doing here?”
Colonel Rolann Bauer was as highly ranking as DPD officers came. As most people saw it he was second only to the Commander himself. Ambrose had also mentioned early on that he was the officer responsible for overseeing ISO. From the looks of it he was here acting as security.
“The DPD clearly aren’t taking this thing lightly.”
Owyn wasn’t so sure. “Keep him out of this. He’s not in our intel so we treat him like everyone else.”
“Copy that.”
“Carl Chambers!” Rodriguez exclaimed suddenly. He ushered the pair over to come and join him. “I’m glad you could take the time to attend,” the host said once they had made their way over.
Owyn’s words stuck in his throat. Rather than replying he just stood there, staring. O’Brien glanced over at him. Fire was building in her eyes.
“Mr Chambers?” Rodriguez repeated.
A sharp, concealed jab in his side from O’Brien snapped Owyn back into focus. “You know how it is with these events. I hardly had a choice,” he jested. After another awkward pause he and Rodriguez laughed together.
“You must fill me in on what you’ve been working on,” Rodriguez said, reassuming his pleasant tone.
Owyn hesitated again before answering. His eyes were scanning over Rodriguez’ every feature; he was looking for something. “I’m afraid there isn’t much I can say. Protocols – I’m sure you understand.”
“I didn’t realise the restrictions were so tight,” Rodriguez said. “Regardless, please excuse me. I must address my audience. Please, enjoy yourselves.” He smiled, then turned to Bauer with a straighter expression. “If I may, Colonel.”
Just before Rodriguez and his entourage departed for the stage Owyn briefly caught the Colonel’s eye. He looked concerned. Evidently he had recognised his agents, but he didn’t look awfully pleased about it. Owyn grabbed O’Brien’s arm and dragged her back into the crowd.
“What?” she whispered harshly.
“Did you plant it?”
“It’s planted. What the fuck’s got into you?”
As Rodriguez stepped onto the stage to give his speech Owyn used the excuse to avoid the question. The room steadily quietened
down. O’Brien huffed in frustration.
It had taken Owyn a moment to realise why Rodriguez’ voice sounded so familiar, but once he had he couldn’t escape the thought. A Spanish accent wasn’t something you came across too often on Altaris to begin with, but his distinctive deep tone left no doubt in Owyn’s mind.
The speech eventually came to an end and – although he hadn’t paid attention to a word of it – Owyn joined in with the half-hearted applause before O’Brien dragged him onto the floor to join in with the first dance.
“You alright, Carter?” she asked while they stood face to face waiting for the music to start.
“I’m fine,” he said, surprised by the unusual show of concern. O’Brien’s tone had shifted quite drastically. He expected she’d be more concerned about him fucking up the mission than his wellbeing.
The music started slow and O’Brien guided him into a gentle sway. “I know there’s a problem, so spit it out.” She spoke pleasantly, but there was no hiding that it was a demand rather than a request.
Owyn shook his head. “Something isn’t right about this whole thing. This mission’s off.” Now didn’t seem the best time to be revealing everything about Installation 3 and the connection with Rodriguez so he had to be vague.
“Whatever the concern is, we’re getting it done. Okay? Fuck around and you’ll get us all killed.”
“It might not be that simple.”
“Quit it, Carter. We can’t lose focus.”
Owyn ignored her, but shifted the topic. “Do you trust Miller?”
He expected her to hold firm but to his surprise – and likely her own – she answered. “No. I don’t trust the man in charge, whoever they are. I trust him as a soldier, but not as a leader. As a soldier, he’ll die just like the rest of us. As a leader, he has the opportunity to put himself first.”
“And what if the soldier stabs you in the back?”
“Once he’s on the field he’s part of the team. It’s suicide. And besides, he’d have to draw first.” She gave a rare hint of a smile. “Either way, we’re here now. Our only choice is to finish the job.”
“I guess it is.”
Out of the corner of his eye Owyn noticed Anderson signalling to him from across the room. He looked across to see the waiter slide a knife out of his jacket. Owyn nodded, and Anderson acknowledged that the message had been received. The mission was live.
CHAPTER 8
RODRIGUEZ
“Carter and O’Brien have made contact with the target,” Anderson reported. “Permission to move?”
“Is your team in position?” Miller asked in return.
“Aye sir.”
“Granted,” Miller said. “No mistakes, Sergeant.”
“Don’t count on any.”
Anderson moved in behind the dance floor and made his way over to Owyn’s champagne glass in the middle of the room. He slipped a small vial from the inside pocket of his jacket and squeezed a drop into the glass. As the music came to a stop applause erupted once again while Rodriguez climbed back onto the stage.
Owyn and O’Brien shuffled through the crowd and returned to the glass. O’Brien reached into Owyn’s jacket pocket and withdrew a round white pill. She looked for the main door through which they had entered the room. Anderson was in position beside it. He retracted the bolt, slipped through and locked it behind him. O’Brien turned back and dropped the pill into the glass. The contents quickly started to bubble vigorously as the chemicals began to react.
“Good luck,” she said to her partner before slipping away and heading towards their exit.
Owyn looked down at the glass as the reaction quickened. He shook his head. His doubts hadn’t subsided, but there was no longer anything he could do. He turned his back and marched straight for the stage.
The explosion went off with a deafening bang and filled the room with a sudden rush of thick white smoke. Screams cut through the air like razors, spreading through the haze like wildfire. Owyn, aided by his contact lenses’ thermal filter, was already making his move. Leaping onto the stage he grabbed hold of Rodriguez. He tried to call out to his guards, but Owyn squeezed his throat shut and dragged him down to the floor.
O’Brien dealt with her man with ease and burst through the east wing door. She did away with her high heeled shoes before she was joined from down the hall by another member of Delta Squad, Corporal Alissa Vahrez, also disguised as a member of the serving staff. The Corporal handed O’Brien a knife and the pair stood backs-to-the-wall either side of the doorway.
A few moments later Rodriguez came tumbling past them, quickly followed by Owyn. Owyn picked him up from the floor while the other pair worked on sealing the way behind them. O’Brien unbuckled her belt and tightly wound the thick leather cord around the two handles before Vahrez stuck a blade through it, ensuring the binding was secure. Order was steadily returning inside the hall as more guards arrived from the other parts of the manor to calm the crowd. Fortunately, the only guards currently occupying the east wing were Miller and Shaw so Owyn had a little time to plan his next move.
Rodriguez gasped for air, finally free from his chokehold. He attempted to break away, but Owyn’s grip held firm. “Who are you? Why are you doing this?” he pleaded.
“That doesn’t concern you,” Owyn answered plainly. “What does concern you is the sonic charge implanted in your right hand. If you try to run or attract the attention of your guards I’ll trigger it.”
Rodriguez frantically felt around his hand, and sure enough came across a slight lump just below his wrist. During his struggle Owyn had slipped a needle into his wrist, inserting the tiny charge just beneath his skin should it be needed to incapacitate him.
“I’d rather not, but if you force my hand I won’t have a choice,” Owyn asserted. “Make this easier for both of us and do what I say. Am I clear?”
“Will it kill me?” Rodriguez asked; much more calmly this time. Somehow Owyn’s threat had only managed to restore his composure.
“No. We wouldn’t have gone to all of this trouble if we didn’t need you alive. I’m sure you know that as well as I do. I’m sure you also know that death isn’t the worst pain we can inflict.”
Threatening anyone always left a bitter taste in Owyn’s mouth. He killed people on more or less a daily basis yet somehow that thought was never as sickening as having to look someone in the eye and threaten them with agony and distress. It probably made him selfish to think like that – to be happy to take a life as long as he didn’t have to deal with any guilt – but it was the only way he’d made it this far.
Still, Rodriguez refused to comply. “I should have known. A man with no face willingly steps into the public eye in the heart of Kyvos. It should be madness,” he sneered.
Rodriguez was no fool. He knew exactly what he was doing. First the clueless, desperate civilian, fearing for his life – then the cold, fearless businessman. He was testing Owyn’s responses to find how best to get under his skin and wriggle his influence into his captor’s mind. Unfortunately for Owyn their awkward first meeting and the lack of conviction in his threats had already given Rodriguez plenty of encouragement. Now he was turning the screw.
Owyn, fully aware of Rodriguez’ intent, refused to engage. Every delay worked to give Rodriguez the upper hand so he needed to move things along quickly. “Let’s move,” he ordered.
Owyn led the way, holding Rodriguez in front of him. From around a corner up ahead came a pair of guards – the time that Miller and Shaw had bought them was up. The standoff lasted for a few seconds as Owyn edged forward with neither of them daring to open fire for fear of hitting his hostage. While he held their attention O’Brien flung her knife to take down the first before Anderson arrived from behind and slit the second’s throat with his own blade.
“Third floor,” Anderson informed them. “I’ll collect my drop then join up with you for evac. See you on the other side.” He grinned and winked mockingly in Rodriguez’ direction.
&n
bsp; Rodriguez stalled, sniggering to himself. “Keep moving,” Owyn growled, kicking the back of his leg to force him forwards.
The door behind them started to thud repeatedly, shaking violently. “We need to speed this up,” Vahrez said, stating the obvious.
They rounded a corner to the right and then took the second staircase to the same side. Another guard came storming down to meet them but was quickly disposed of as O’Brien lodged her knife into his throat before retrieving it as his corpse toppled past her.
Miller met them on the third floor and escorted Owyn and the hostage to the locked door while O’Brien guarded the stairs and Vahrez split off to join back up with her team.
Miller handed over one of his two acquired pistols and Owyn released Rodriguez with the barrel pressed to his temple. “Open it,” he demanded.
“Or what?” Rodriguez replied with a disgruntled tone. “You said it yourself. You won’t kill me, so what do you plan to do if I don’t?”
Unknown to Owyn – and Rodriguez – Miller had also given O’Brien a trigger to the sonic charge implanted in their hostage. At the first sign of resistance she activated it without hesitation. It sent a shockwave through his body, rippling beneath his skin and tearing its way through his flesh. He cried out in pain and dropped to his knees. Owyn looked at her with horror painted across his face but she avoided eye contact, keeping her focus on the landing below.
Miller knelt down to look his stricken hostage in the eye. “There’s a lot of pain we can inflict without killing you, Mr Rodriguez.” He wedged the barrel of his gun beneath Rodriguez’ knee cap and squeezed the trigger slightly, threatening to pull. “Our weapons are designed for a quick and painless death but yours, on the other hand, are much more versatile.”
Owyn gritted his teeth.
“I thought this city was supposed to be free of sick bastards like you,” Rodriguez replied with likewise disdain.
“What’ll it be then?” Miller continued.
Before Rodriguez could decide Owyn took over. He knocked Miller’s hand away and lifted Rodriguez to his feet. Taking up arms against each other in front of their hostage would have removed any chance of him co-operating so Miller was forced to restrict his reaction to a deathly glare.