72 Hours (A Thriller)

by Moreton, William Casey

  The limousine exited the freeway at the outskirts of the city. Los Angeles, a twinkling jewel on the horizon. A Santa Ana wind streaked down from the mountains, warm and dry.

  The car drifted through dark streets, past empty, weedy lots, abandoned buildings and dirty rail yards crowded with old empty rail cars. The buildings stood silhouetted against the smog-smudged night sky. Buildings that had fallen into disrepair decades ago. Big, ugly, abandoned structures that had at one time or another in the history of the country been busy with industry.

  The car passed through long, shapeless shadows, past street signs disfigured by spray cans and faded by the sun. It turned down an alley between warehouses and rolled patiently over cracked asphalt where weeds sprouted up. The occasional stray cat or fat, healthy rat would turn their red eyes toward the approaching headlights then dart for cover into shadowy corners. A big warehouse door opened and the car parked inside.

  The driver got out and pulled open one of the back doors. Leonard Monroe stepped out into the stark overhead light. The diamonds on his chunky Rolex sparkled in the light. He stepped away from the car and followed an open-sided metal staircase up to a catwalk that overlooked the open floor of the warehouse.

  Monroe was joined by a stocky man wearing a fishing cap, work boots, and a camouflaged shooter’s vest. The man’s name was Rydel.

  They stood at the railing of the catwalk and watched the loud activity going on down on the warehouse floor. Below were a half-dozen big rig trucks parked in a row, spaced at twenty-foot intervals. Big Kenworths. There were teams of men working on each truck. Bright plumes of orange welding sparks rained to the floor and danced across the concrete as massive iron pipes were welded to the front grill of each truck. The windshields and windows of each were being replaced with bulletproof Plexiglas.

  The noise level in the warehouse was deafening. Saws buzzing. Air compressors howling.

  “The work is right on schedule,” Rydel said.

  Monroe stood with his arms crossed over his chest. He stared down at the men laboring below.

  “Most of the remaining modifications will be completed by sunup,” Rydel said.

  “Good,” Monroe said.

  “I will have everyone in place by noon.”

  “You’d better.”

  Rydel glanced at the lawyer.

  “Timing is everything,” Monroe said. “There is no room for error.”

  “Don’t worry.”

  “Shut up and just get the work done. Be ready by noon. No excuses. Then wait for my call.”

  Rydel nodded.

  Monroe followed the catwalk back to the open staircase and returned to the car. He stood with his hand on the open door, listening to the shriek of saws and the sizzle of sparks spilling down from the trucks. Workers heaved bulky crates off a flatbed truck at one end of the warehouse and opened them with crowbars. The crates were labeled with military jargon in spray painted stenciled lettering and numerals. Big, heavy crates, loaded with deadly toys. Monroe didn’t have to see inside them to be aware of the contents. He had paid for them.

  The limousine backed out into the night, the lights and sounds from the warehouse fading as the car twisted back through the labyrinth of narrow streets toward the city.

  * * *

  Noella Chu spread the map out across the table. She flattened it with the palms of her hands and studied it in the light of the cheap fixture hanging above the small round table. She traced her finger across the intersecting grid of highways and secondary roads.

  When she found the town on the map, she held her finger on the spot and circled it with a ballpoint.

  “Get up,” she told Penny Lockwood.

  Penny was lying on her back, staring up at the stained plaster ceiling. She flicked her eyes toward the small Asian woman standing across the room.

  Noella Chu folded the map and retrieved her gun from the table. She unlocked the deadbolt, unhooked the chain on the door and stepped outside. She opened the passenger door of the Kia and pushed the Nevada map up onto the dash.

  She glanced around the parking lot. As still as a graveyard. She glanced up the sidewalk that ran the length of the motel. Not a soul in sight. Glanced out at the lonely highway. An occasional flicker of headlights swishing past in the rain.

  Noella Chu returned to the room and cut Penny loose from the bed. “Get up,” she said again. Penny rocked forward onto her feet. Noella Chu shoved her out the door and into the van. She shut the door, started the engine, and glanced at the spot marked on the map as she turned the van onto the highway. It was 2:30 AM, Saturday morning.

  CHAPTER 105

  Archer pulled out his Beretta and snicked the safety off. He held the big flashlight in one hand, the Beretta in the other. Eased the panel door open with the toe of his shoe. He could hear coughing and gagging in the space below.

  He raised the panel door enough to see inside. Tango was facedown. He’d clawed his way into the chute but had then run out of steam. He glanced up toward Archer silhouetted by the dim light of the library.

  “Sucks to be you right now, doesn’t it?” Archer said.

  Tango rested his head on the ground. He knew it was over.

  Then Archer aimed the gun into the darkness and blasted Tango in the head.

  * * *

  They sealed off the west tunnel that led into the mountains. Shut and locked the containment door, a slab of gray steel thick enough it would take more than a hand grenade to punch through. Then they sealed off the tunnels running north and south.

  Raj stationed himself at the mouth of the main tunnel, where rain was still bubbling in through the breach. He crouched in the shadows with his rifle and listened to the storm. There were two more men out there somewhere, still unaccounted for, and Raj was eager to cross those last two names off the list. Penny weighed heavily on his mind.

  They had the door of the Hummer open. They were loading it with gear and supplies, outfitting it for battle.

  Simeon had agreed to trade Lindsay Hammond for his sister. They would meet at noon on Saturday at a small cemetery outside a tiny church on the outskirts of a small desert town a few hours south and east of the underground bunker, a hundred miles from anywhere. The church at the edge of the desert town had been Simeon’s idea, plucked off the top of his head in a moment of desperation. It was neutral ground. He’d passed it a few times speeding through on his way to somewhere else. The church and the cemetery sat several hundred yards off the highway. Simeon penciled the layout of the church grounds with his middle finger in the dust on the hood of the Hummer. He described it as best he could from memory.

  Archer wanted to be onsite plenty early, to scope it out and get into position. Preparation would be the key to success.

  * * *

  It was nearly 3:30 AM by the time they were ready to travel. The SUV’s were well stocked with food, weapons, ammo. The kids were asleep. Lindsay went down the stairs and woke Ramey. Ramey lifted her head and blinked up at her mother in the pulsing orange light.

  “What time is it?” Ramey asked groggily.

  “Very early in the morning,” Lindsay said. “We have to leave now.”

  “Leave? Where are we going?”

  Lindsay combed her fingers through her daughter’s hair.

  “Don’t worry about that, sweetie. Doesn’t matter. We’re getting out of here. Going back to the highway. Find the Hummer and get yourself loaded up.”

  Ramey rocked onto her knees, then stood. She stretched and yawned.

  “Is it safe outside?” she asked.

  “Archer thinks it’s safe enough for us to leave,” Lindsay said.

  Ramey staggered up the metal stairs. The corridors still smelled of smoke, dust, and burnt chemicals.

  Simeon ducked his head into the secure room and asked if she needed any help.

  Lindsay gestured at Wyatt still curled into a ball on the floor.

  “He’s sound asleep,” she said.

  Simeon grinned and nodded.r />
  “Let the boy sleep,” he said softly, padding down the stairs. “He’s better of in dreamland. I’ll take care of him.”

  He scooped Wyatt up in his arms and couriered him up the stairs and out through the low-ceilinged passageways to the cavernous parking hub. He gently placed him in the rear of the Hummer. Wyatt never stirred. Ramey rested her head on her brother’s hip, and soon both children were again fast asleep.

  Archer, Simeon, and Lindsay huddled for a quick conference between the vehicles.

  Archer glanced at his watch.

  “We should already be on the road,” he said.

  Simeon nodded. “Everything is loaded.”

  “You and Raj take the lead in the Scout. We will follow you out through the gates to the highway. It should be a relatively peaceful cruise on from there. Keep your walkie-talkie on. It’s vital that we stay in constant communication. And keep your eyes peeled. Remember that anything can happen at any time.”

  “Roger that,” Simeon said.

  Archer turned to Lindsay.

  “You good?”

  She took a deep breath. Then let it out slowly. She nodded.

  “Yeah, I’m okay.”

  Archer squeezed her hand.

  “OK,” he said. “Let’s roll.”

  Both the Scout and the Hummer bumped up the ramp and out of the tunnel. They skidded to a halt in the mud just beyond the panel doors. Raj stood and waited for the doors to retract. The metal was twisted and blackened from the explosions. Raj stared at the damage a short moment, then turned and quickly climbed into the passenger side of the Scout.

  CHAPTER 106

  Both vehicles stopped at the first gate, imposing limestone bluffs rising up on either side of the road ahead. They sat still for a long moment, rain spattering on the windows.

  Archer lifted the radio.

  “How’s it look up there?”

  “Looks quiet,” Simeon answered.

  “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

  “I think it’s OK.”

  “I’ll take your word for it,” Archer said.

  Raj cracked his door and stepped out into the rain. He dialed the combination and rattled the chain out through the heavy slats of the gate. Swung the gate wide. Waved them through.

  The vehicles rolled through the mud a few dozen yards and then paused to wait. Raj secured the gate then turned back for the Scout. The bluffs stood before him like great dark walls set against the vast dark sky. He gave a thumbs-up to Archer as he strode up alongside the Hummer.

  The first shot hit him in the thigh and took his leg out from under him. Raj cried out as he crashed to the ground. The second and third shots whistled past his head and stitched pockmarks in the mud behind him. He clutched both hands to his leg and rolled onto his back in agony.

  Simeon saw the muzzle flash and saw his brother go down in the rearview mirror. He grabbed the radio from his lap and ducked below the dashboard.

  “GETDOWNGETDOWNGETDOWN!” he called out.

  Archer grabbed Lindsay by the back of the head and shoved her down into the cramped space at the foot of her seat.

  “Everyone down!” he yelled.

  “INCOMING FIRE!” Simeon said into the radio.

  “Where is Raj?” Archer said.

  “He’s down! He’s hit!”

  Archer was lying across Lindsay, covering her.

  “I’ve got to try to pull Raj inside here,” he said.

  “Don’t go out there!” Lindsay screamed. “You’ll get killed!”

  Automatic gunfire stitched across the hood of the Scout. Four quick successive rounds – ponkponkponkponk.

  “I’m pinned down!” Simeon yelled. Then his windshield shattered, bullets piercing the glass and shredding the headrest a few inches above him. The stick shift was crushing into his ribs.

  “Just sit tight,” Archer told him. “I’m going to try to provide some cover fire for you.”

  “Hurry!”

  Archer kicked open his door and slithered out low to the ground. Several rounds stitched across the limestone bluff to his left. He dropped to the ground and peered underneath the Hummer at Raj. Archer quickly clawed his way beneath the wide chassis and extended his arm.

  “Raj, grab my hand!”

  Raj was groaning, his face pressed into the mud, eyes closed. He pivoted his head in the grit and spotted his old friend nearby in the darkness beneath the big SUV. He put out his hand.

  Archer strained to pull Raj to him.

  “My leg,” Raj moaned. “I think the bone is shattered.” Blood was pumping out of his thigh.

  Archer ripped the sleeves from his shirt and used them to make tourniquets for Raj’s leg. He fastened the strips above and below the wound.

  Ramey and Wyatt helped him haul Raj into the backseat of the Hummer. He shut the door and ducked around the rear of the vehicle.

  Gunfire ripped across the sheet metal bodies of both SUV’s.

  Thunder boomed, a big rumble that faded slowly away behind the hills. Lightening flashed, an awesome sheet of electricity that lit the sky.

  Archer ducked his head around the corner of the Hummer during the aerial display. He saw movement high up on the bluff. Then the sky went dark again and the silhouetted mercenary again vanished from view. At least he’d given Archer some kind of reference point. He ducked beneath the vehicle and retrieved Raj’s rifle. He raised it to his shoulder and balanced it against the rear of the SUV.

  The thermal imaging scope turned the bluff shades of green. He swept the reticle along the ridgeline, finger on the trigger. Again spotted movement. Placed the reticle on target. Squeezed down gently. The rifle bucked against his shoulder, the shot ripping out across the night sky. Then he watched as a dark figure tumbled from the top of the bluff and splashed into the mud at the edge of the narrow road.

  Archer glassed the top edge of the bluff, waiting for return fire. He plugged the earpiece from Echo’s radio into his ear and sent out a message to the last surviving mercenary.

  “Listen up, whoever you are,” he said. “You are suddenly very alone in the world. All your buddies are dead. I’d suggest you pack it in. Drop your weapon and find a deep hole to climb into. Because if I have to climb up there after you, I’m not just going to kill you, I’m going to make you suffer. Whatever they are paying you, it’s not near enough for what I’ll do to you. This is not the time to start feeling brave.”

  Archer waited in the rain. He stared through the scope into the stillness. There was no sign of activity at the top of the bluff. He eased around to his door and climbed in behind the wheel.

  “How is he?” he asked Lindsay.

  “We need to get him to a doctor.”

  Archer spoke into the walkie-talkie.

  “Raj is in bad shape, but I think we’re clear to move on. It’s quiet out there now. Looks like we’ve maybe seen the last of them.”

  Water beaded on the glass. Archer waited for Simeon’s assessment. But the radio was quiet.

  Archer stared out through the rain at the rear of the ancient silver Scout, exhaust from the tailpipe burbling up into the Hummer’s bright headlights.

  “Yo, Simeon.”

  Archer ran his tongue across his upper lip.

  “Yo, do you copy?”

  But there was only silence.

  “What’s wrong?” Lindsay asked from behind him.

  Archer didn’t respond. He set the radio aside and opened his door. He eased alongside the Scout, squishing through mud. Lifted up on the door handle on the driver side and pulled open the door. Gazed inside through the dim glow of the dome light. There was blood splattered on the seat and the dash and the steering wheel. Simeon was dead.

  CHAPTER 107

  The bullets had come through the roof of the cab, punching holes in the sheet metal and then punching holes in Simeon’s head and torso.

  Archer gazed up through the gloom toward the ridgeline at the top of the bluff. It was still quiet. He left the Scout’s doo
r standing open and returned to the Hummer.

  Lindsay was sitting in the driver’s seat, turned with her legs hanging out the door.

  “Simeon’s dead,” he told her.

  “Oh God,” she sighed. She put her face in her hands. “This is all my fault.”

  “No, Dunbar is the one who must answer for this.”

  Archer glanced around the front seat at Raj sprawled in pain in the rear.

  “We’ve got to move these vehicles up the road, get them out from between these bluffs. It’s like sitting in a shooting gallery.”

  Lindsay nodded.

  “I’ll drive the Scout,” Archer said. “You follow in the Hummer. Let’s get a few miles up the road, then we can regroup.”

  “OK.”

  Archer moved Simeon’s body into the passenger side of the Scout. His blood had mixed with the rain and was spattered across everything. Archer put the transmission in drive and let off the handbrake.

  The headlights sliced through the rain.

  Archer was not at all comfortable leaving one man still alive out there. It was a loose end that he knew could very well come back to haunt him in a big way.

  * * *

  November stood among the gnarled remains of a pair of stunted trees near the crest of the bluff. He stood with his thick arms crossed over his chest and watched the two SUV’s bounce out of the canyon, headlights fading into the gloom. He simply watched them go. He’d seen his partner, India, be picked off during the ambush, and decided he’d rather not be the last man killed for a lost cause. So he simply stood in the rain and listened to the thunder. He wouldn’t be reporting back to base. It was best to just let Mr. Jupiter assume he had died with the others.

  * * *

  Mr. Jupiter dialed the number for the hundredth time. And again there was no answer. Alpha wasn’t responding.

  Mr. Jupiter wanted an update. He needed confirmation that Lindsay Hammond was dead. He had dispatched the best of the best to find and kill her, but something was wrong. Alpha should have answered his cell by now. Mr. Jupiter pushed his mounting anxiety down as he stared up at the moon and stars and dialed the number again.