The Jewel of Babylon (The Unusual Operations Division Book 1)

by Jacob Hammes

  One step at a time, Daniel O’Brian came up the driveway and onto the porch. The lights inside were on, he could see it spilling through the window. Someone was walking past far in the back of the house. He knew that if the people inside were not ready he would kill them without blinking. He was seriously reconsidering taking the jewel that crazy man had given him earlier. Since then nothing had been working properly.

  “Get out!” he screamed through his gnarled lips. The pain was visible across his face.

  The door opened. Its shattered frame was incapable of locking.

  His feet made moist footprints on the tile floors as he stepped inside. Daniel hadn’t realized just how loud the rain had been until he stepped over the threshold. It was warm, cozy and quiet except for music and static playing from some other room.

  With the gun held out in front of him he stepped into the entryway. He was the hapless predator and his victims were government agents.

  “Please, get out of here,” he tried to scream again. His voice was becoming hoarse and harder to control. Once more, his body fought him forwards and moisture fell from his coat with every heavy step.

  Then something unexpected happened. The lights went out for Daniel and suddenly he remembered nothing. Marcus caught him as he fell, limp from a gun butt to the back of the head. Daniels’ Berretta 9mm pistol clattered noisily to the tile as he lost consciousness and fell into Marcus’ arms.

  Marcus wasted no time. He quickly searched the fallen cop’s pockets and found what he was looking for—a clear stone with golden flecks making a distinct vein through the middle. It was another stone from the Jewel of Babylon and it had done exactly what the others had done. Something crazy was going on here, these people were being controlled.

  It flew across the room and smacked into a lamp before coming to rest on the carpet as Marcus threw it in a rage and turned to head outside. He had heard two gunshots and had not seen his friend Bishop or the man in the SUV since. Two steps out the front door and he knew why.

  A quick survey of the scene and Marcus could tell that both Bishop and the man in the SUV had been shot. It was obvious from here that the DOD agent was dead.

  Marcus yelled something indiscernible as he rushed down the steps to his friend’s aid. Two more steps and he could tell there was nothing that he could do. The shell of what used to be Bishop was limp, lifeless eyes stared blindly into the rain and rivulets of blood streamed down over his cheeks. The two centimeter hole in the front of his head belied the damage that had been done.

  Rain washed the blood away as quickly as it could touch the ground. To Marcus, it was a travesty. Nature couldn’t be kind enough to leave his blood on the ground. The world didn’t even want his memory to exist and Marcus hated it because of that. His friend, his colleague, a damned good man was laying there dead and there was nothing he could do about it.

  All he could think about was why he couldn’t have saved his friend and teammate, one of the men that he was responsible for.

  Numb coldness crept out from his heart. It made his arms and legs heavy and his breath came ragged and moist. He couldn’t feel anything as he knelt in the rain, into the cloudy blood tainted puddle at his friend’s feet. Marcus reached out, grabbed Bishops wounded hand half expecting Bishop to grip back.

  He didn’t.

  The cold numbness turned to rage and a heat like fire tore up through his soul and exploded from his mouth. A feral, demonic cry filled the air as loud as any thunder strike. His worst fear had just come true—losing a friend and a coworker as the result of their work.

  Through the rain and the thunder, the pounding rage and heartache in his head and the distant sound of sirens Marcus couldn’t help hearing his cell phone. It was a confusing sound over all the pain boiling through him. Why, he wondered, would someone be calling right now? His hands barely worked, but he managed to get the phone out of his pocket and slide it up to his ear.

  “This is Marcus,” he said.

  “Jesus Marcus,” Brenda answered. “Are you okay?”

  “No,” he growled. “We need an ambulance at Tiffany’s house. Bishop was killed.”

  “What?”

  “The backup security officer had one of John’s stones with him and he shot Bishop in the head.”

  Silence was her only response.

  “Marcus, this is Phillip,” apparently Brenda couldn’t take the bad news so she passed the phone off before she broke down.

  “What?” was all that Marcus could muster. The rain was making it hard to hear and as much as he wanted to stay with his friend he could not take just sitting there any longer. He got up and moved to the protection of the porch.

  “I don’t know what happened, but don’t tell me. Brenda is taking it hard. I need you to listen to me now. The satellite was pinged twice just a few minutes ago. I’m sure that you are aware of the ping that happened at your location but there was another one, too. We would have used the radios to contact you but all communications are down.”

  “Where?”

  “You’re not going to like this, Marcus. It happened just outside the Marriot that Tiffany is staying in. I have confirmed that the ping matches John’s readings. He’s already there. We found her too late.”

  A cold shaking rage took him over then. It was not like anything he had ever felt before. Something inside of him was gone. Some sense of frustration had been wiped away. The only thing left was clarity. Now, Marcus had a purpose. He could be to the hotel in ten minutes flat if he used the cruiser the cop had driven. This had to end and Marcus, no matter the cost, was determined to finish it.

  “What happened to our radios?” Marcus asked.

  “I think the storm is affecting them. What do you want me to do?”

  “Call Henry and Stephen and have them get there, now.” Marcus said through clenched teeth. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  “They are already on the way. Be careful, please.”

  “I’ll be careful”, Marcus thought as he hung up the phone. “I’ll be careful not to miss when I blow this son of a bitch’s head off.”

  Chapter 31

  Cynthia had already started bawling her eyes out by the time Marcus had gotten back into the house. She was sitting with her knees to her chest and dark hair enveloping almost her entire slender face, crying like she had just been born. David was doing a little bit better. He sat white-faced in the corner of the room, looking like he was trying not to vomit.

  Marcus dripped water from his long black hair and suit. The glare in his eyes and determined set of his jaw made him look frightening.

  “I’m going after this guy,” Marcus announced. “He is at the hotel where his sister is staying. We were too late. He may have just killed someone else because the satellite received a ping that matches John. I don’t care if you go or if you stay with Bishop. Either way, I’ll understand but I’m leaving now.”

  “I’m going with you,” Cynthia said from between her knees and in between sobs. “I’m going to see this through.”

  Marcus nodded. He had no illusions that Cynthia would want to stay behind. They were a team and where Marcus went she would go. It was not a question of how much they loved Bishop, it was a question of how much they were willing to sacrifice to avenge his death.

  “David,” Marcus said.

  “Yeah, I know. I’m staying here. Someone has to watch out for the unconscious cop and the bodies.”

  “Someone has to make sure that diamond doesn’t get into anyone else’s hands.” Marcus said. “I don’t give a rat’s ass how sick it makes you. You stick by it and don’t let it out of your sight. You understand me?”

  “I understand,” he said solemnly. Marcus wondered whether David was upset about Bishop dying or having to be stuck with something that affected him in such a negative way. After all, he had not been with the team long enough to make any sort of long lasting relationships with anyone. Still, the loss had to be at least a little bit tough on the big man.

>   Marcus held his hand down for Cynthia. She looked up through her hair with red eyes and streaks of tears still glimmering in the dull light of the entryway. Were such things to happen to anyone else, Marcus was sure that they would lack the strength to press on. That is why he was so confident with his team. They were fully dedicated to the mission as well as each other.

  Marcus made sure to strip the gun from the police officer and use his own cuffs to secure his hands behind his back. He tucked the pistol into his own belt before giving David one last look and then ran out into the rain. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t help looking at his deceased friend as he passed.

  The river of blood was still being washed away silently down the street.

  Cynthia was just a moment behind. She ran around to the passenger side of the vehicle and jumped in. Her breath came in great heaving sobs but she was still lucid, still determined.

  “I’m fine,” she said. She must have known Marcus was staring at her. It wasn’t that he was questioning her fortitude or determination, though, he was admiring it. “Let’s go. I don’t want Henry to have all the fun.”

  Marcus tried to smile. What came out was a snarl. He wiped water from his face only to have it quickly replaced. His long hair needed to be cut. Instead of trying again he flipped the lights on, started the engine and slammed the cruiser into a half donut. In a matter of seconds he was up to eighty miles per hour, blowing stop signs in the residential area and jumping the small speed bumps.

  Though Henry and Stephen were much closer, they were likely to arrive at the same time as Marcus. The phone call had rocked them both and all they could do for a moment was sit there in the car wondering what they should be feeling. It was Stephen who reacted first. His strong hand clasped Henry’s shoulder like a vice but his voice was soft.

  “We can’t do anything for him,” he said. “All we can do is get this guy and stop anyone else from dying. You heard Phillip, it’s possible someone else has already been killed at the hotel. Our only chance to get him and stop whatever he’s trying to do is slowly fading away. Our last opportunity is now.”

  Henry agreed. He put the car in drive and pulled out into the slow moving traffic. The rain was coming down so heavily it was hard to see through the water coating the window. Stephen had Phillip on the line again asking for the best route to take through the half flooded streets. Every corner they rounded presented them with a new challenge and a new line of mid-tire submerged vehicles. It was all they could do from getting stuck behind a sea of slow moving vehicles to take every alley and hope for the best.

  “I don’t see any way you’re going to make it on time,” Phillip was saying. “He could be out of there in a matter of minutes. I don’t hear anything coming across police channels, but that might be because of the interference. You’re still a minimum of twenty minutes away.”

  Stephen cursed.

  “Look,” Phillip said. “I’m close and I’ve got the same type of tranquilizers you guys have. I’m headed after him. I’ll see you guys when you get there.”

  “You can’t go alone,” Henry shouted over the speakerphone. “It’s too dangerous.”

  “Sorry, Henry. If there’s a chance of catching this guy it lies with me. I’m out of here.”

  The line went fuzzy for a moment before Brenda’s squeaky voice piped up.

  “He’s gone, Stephen,” Brenda said. “I couldn’t stop him.”

  “Shit,” Henry muttered. “We need to hurry.”

  Phillip was thinking of only one thing; how he could get to the hotel in enough time to stop this madman from hurting anyone else. He was already halfway to the lobby before he had even bothered to check his sidearm. He still had his 9mm pistol and it was fully loaded beneath his left armpit. On his right hip was the holstered tranquilizer gun. It held ten darts with enough tranquilizers to put an elephant down.

  One thing Phillip hadn’t accounted for was how ferocious the rain storm had become. It was coming down in droves and had already started flooding some sections of town. Phillip would have a hard time keeping close enough to the buildings to keep dry. It didn’t matter though as long as he could take this guy down.

  He hit the sidewalk and kept as close as he could to the buildings. He bound from awning to awning, trying desperately to keep the rain off of his clothing. There was no one between the hotels walking, just cars stuck in nearly dead traffic. Lightning flashed overhead and Phillip ducked as the thunder pierced the air. It was a terrible idea to have this stakeout in such crummy weather.

  In just under five minutes, he had traveled the short distance between hotels and was standing before the Marriot of Atlanta. He surveyed the entryway for a moment, looking for the best path to take to get past without being questioned. Seeing the entrance from the art deco plaza out front, he decided to take his chances and just walk right in.

  Phillip noticed something as he approached. A group of onlookers were gathered around beneath the small overhang above the entrance trying hard to stay dry but still get a look at something. Phillip immediately caught sight of what it was. Broken glass surrounded a man lying dead upon the asphalt. Obvious deformities were visible from what Phillip could tell, by the broken window, had been a five story fall. Blood pooled around the man in the shallow depression that he had come to rest in.

  Phillip paid the dead man no mind. It was obvious now what the second ping on the satellite had come from. He hoped there was not a third. He could feel his chances of catching John growing by the moment, now that he was so close. Out of habit, Phillip brushed his hand against his weapons, first beneath his suit coat and then against the one on his hip. Compulsion had gotten him this far. He wasn’t about to quit now.

  The inside of the hotel was a cluster of activity. People were talking on cell phones and bustling here or there trying to tell loved ones or friends what had happened at the hotel they were staying in. Everyone was being urged to stay back away from the doors so that people could still enter or leave. It was apparent the staff was busy trying to clear a fire hazard.

  Phillip made his way through the wall of people and into the huge lobby of the hotel. He was immediately faced with a man in a suit with a nametag reading, “Ron.”

  “Can I help you, sir?” Ron asked in a nasal voice.

  “Yeah,” Phillip said and pulled his Department of Defense badge out of his coat. “What happened here?”

  “I have no idea,” Ron answered. “But I doubt it had anything to do with terrorists.”

  Phillip gave the guy an incredulous sneer before grabbing him by the collar and pushing forward toward the front desk.

  “Has anyone checked out since that guy hit the ground?”

  “Not that I’m aware of,” Ron answered, looking rather taken aback. “You might want to ask the front desk though, they would know better. Try and be a little more sensitive too, huh guy?”

  “I’m looking for someone that has short hair and looks like he could be a half back for the Falcons,” Phillip continued. “He got here like twenty minutes ago. You’d notice the guy. He stands out because he’s big, really big. Have you seen him?”

  “I was in my office until this happened,” Ron answered. “Like I said, if you need help you’d be better off asking the lady at the front desk.”

  “Thanks for nothing,” Phillip said as he let go and brushed past the scowling man.

  As he made his way to the front desk he caught sight of a hulk of a man moving with incredible finesse through the thin interior crowd. In his wake was a woman no older than Phillip with long blond hair and dull eyes. It was Tiffany. He recognized her from the pictures. That meant the giant weaving toward the front desk with his face turned away from Phillip must be John.

  Cold adrenaline flooded through Phillip. After so long, he had finally come face to face with the monster responsible for so many murders. It felt good to know that this was soon going to be finished.

  Phillip had been trained well just like the rest of his tea
m and knew that it would be too dangerous and too risky to try and take John in the hotel lobby. The last thing Phillip wanted was more dead bodies and if John was carrying a pistol he was sure to use it. He didn’t want anyone in his way when the bullets started flying.

  Instead, he waited for John to make his way to the door that exited through the back of the hotel. Acting as if he were interested in all the commotion was easy and as far as Phillip knew there was no reason for John to be suspicious, so he gawked for a moment like everyone else until he was sure that John was gone. Then he turned back toward the door and took off like a sprinter from the starting blocks.

  People stared wide eyed as Phillip ran past, trying his hardest to keep from bowling them over. In a matter of seconds, he was at the rear of the hotel and quietly opening the door through which John and his sister had just passed. The sound of water on water inundated the exit and Phillip found himself in the area with the outdoor pool. It was overflowing and water was still coming down in sheets, immediately soaking anything in its path.

  John was ushering his sister toward a gate that opened into the parking lot. She was, from what Phillip could see, willingly following her brother into oblivion.

  They were halfway around the pool by the time he made his way outside and pulled his tranquilizer gun from its hip holster. With a steady grip and a wide open sight of the murderer and his next victim, Phillip shot John twice in the back from twenty feet.

  Both darts stuck out of the behemoth of a man like push pins in a cork board and Phillip was not surprised at all to see him still standing. He was well aware of what the Special Forces soldier would be capable of, especially with the added driving force of the Relics in his possession. Like a scene out of a horror movie, John turned slowly toward his aggressor like a madman on a bender.

  “I had a feeling that I was being followed,” he had to shout over the sound of the downpour.

  “John, put the bag down and let your sister go,” Phillip was serious. Drops of rain splashed from the barrel of the tranquilizer gun but Phillip’s hand was steady as a stone. The weight meant nothing to him. It might as well not have been raining at all. The only things that existed to Phillip were John, his sister, and the pistol he had leveled on him.