“I’m going to kill him if you don’t do as I say!” countered Dominic. He took a step backwards, pulling Brayden with him. “Lower your guns!” he shouted towards the marine commandos. “I mean it! I’ll kill him!” He pressed the gun even harder into the CIA agent’s back.
“Lower your rifles,” ordered Brayden, urgency in his tone.
The marines looked to each other for confirmation or reassurance, then to the soldier in charge. The platoon leader nodded, giving affirmation. “Do it,” he said.
“There’s nowhere to go, Dominic; there’s no escape,” said Brayden. “Give yourself up.”
Dominic wore a mixed expression; one of panic, and the other, blind madness. “You don’t get it… none of you do. This is going to be the beginning of a new age. You can’t stop me. None of you can.” He let go of Brayden for a moment, his gun still fixed at a point in the man’s back. With his hand free, he reached into his jacket pocket and made a fist around the yellow diamond inside for encouragement. Touching it made him feel more powerful, more invincible. He never felt surer of anything in his life, and the diamond seemed to egg him on, pulsing like a heart within his grasp, willing him further. It felt hot, like a burning ember straight from a fire. “You can all join me! Even you Sophie; it’s not too late! Together, we’d be unstoppable.”
“I’d never join you Dominic.” Sophie stepped forward from the place she had initially taken shelter, where she had begrudgingly surrendered to the super soldiers. Now they were crushed, and she was back in play. Her gun was on the ground, within easy reach, but she walked past it. She kept on walking until she was four feet away from Brayden. The CIA man’s hands were still cable-tied behind his back, and Dominic’s gun continued to press against his spine, a finger slip away from ending his life.
“Do you honestly think I’d want anything to do with you? After what you did to my mother? To Meredith?” Lightly, she touched the bullet wound at the top of her shoulder, wincing.
Sophie was surprised to see a hurt look appear on the man’s face. “I didn’t have a choice,” he offered meekly, but not explaining his reasoning.
“Let Brayden go,” advised Sophie. “This only needs to be between us.”
Dominic removed his left hand from his pocket; it came out in a fist, like he was concealing something or about to throw a jab. The Whisper of Persia he left in his pocket, its weight feeling reassuring against his stomach. “Yes… you’re quite right,” he replied conciliatingly. “This could just be between you and me. But, you see, I know that as soon as I take my gun off the yank, either the lug in the helicopter, or any one of those marines,” he spat the word out vehemently, “is going to try and shoot me. He is my guarantee…”
Seemingly taking offence, despite not being able to hear him, Liam – the lug in the helicopter – didn’t wait for Dominic, or for the opportunity to present itself freely. He fired his rifle at Dominic, the bullet smashing into his gun hand, knocking the Beretta free from his grip and pulverising three of his fingers. Brayden, trained for quick reactions and taking his chance, leapt forward, and started running in Sophie’s direction.
“Arruugghhhh,” Dominic howled, holding up his mangled right hand for inspection. Just his thumb and little finger remained, making it appear like he was giving a gory ‘call me’ hand sign to someone. “My bloody hand!” he cried. The mutilated chunks of his fingers looked like minced up sausages strewn about his feet. “Have you no decency?!”
Sophie unsheathed one of the SOG combat knives. “Have you not heard the saying ‘what comes around, goes around’?”
Without his hostage, Dominic no longer had any bargaining chips. This resulted in the immediate reinstatement of marine weapons being trained eagerly his way.
“Get these ties off me,” grunted Brayden, irritably. He half-turned, presenting his restrained wrists towards Sophie.
With barely any thought, Sophie obliged, slipping the blade beneath the plastic cable tie and applying a small amount of pressure, the knife’s keen edge slicing it through like it were butter.
Seeing the young woman’s intent, Brayden repeated his earlier warning: “Don’t, for your sake. I need him alive.”
Sophie said nothing, turning away from the American and taking big strides towards Dominic, the knife hanging at her side. She ignored the gunshot wound to her shoulder for the time being.
For the benefit of the ten marines who looked like they were gearing themselves to take a shot, Brayden repeated his remark louder: “I NEED HIM ALIVE!”
Seeing the blonde woman coming towards him, Dominic looked around desperately. His eyes clocking the Beretta, but getting it was suicide. There was no way he could reach it, not without receiving a ten gun salute aimed at his head or chest. When he looked back to where Sophie had been approaching, she was gone.
Although many within the strike force were aware of her abilities, all of the marines standing around had never witnessed her actually metamorphose. Seeing her vanish before their eyes elicited a chorus of gasps and interjections; awe, fear and surprise. One even said: “Where did she go?” like he’d never even been given the brief.
Sophie zigzagged a course away from Dominic; her intention, to engage him from behind.
Dominic, no longer able to see the young woman and fearful of what she was about to do, threw up his hands. “I give up! I GIVE UP!” he screamed. “Just don’t let that crazy bitch o–” on me. He finished his appeal in his head as the desire to continue speaking it aloud left him when he felt cold steel press up against his throat. No one could see the knife or the girl wielding it, but they were both there all the same, and the thin line of blood appearing on his neck was testament to it.
“I dare you to struggle with me, Dominic,” almost a whisper. He remembered her saying those very words to him before, back in that rundown motel on the outskirts of Washington DC; this time he believed the threat. “It would make this so much easier.”
“You don’t have to do this… I’m unarmed.”
“Just like my mother was, when you killed her?” lamented Sophie.
“I told you before; that was an accident,” he said.
“And my sister? Was that an accident too?”
Dominic had no answer for that.
“Sophie!” Breathlessly, Emily ran out onto the roof through the opening of the bulkhead. “Don’t!” She was wearing night-vision goggles; the infrared setting was switched on, and she was able to see Sophie standing behind Dominic, the knife at his throat. “Let us take him in. He’ll get the death penalty.”
“Listen to Emily, Sophie!” recommended Brayden, seriously. “You’ll get your justice. The President has stated as much.”
Sophie felt trapped for a moment. Torn between doing what she wanted – nay, needed – to do and what was right.
“Sophie… please!” Emily begged. “Don’t do this.”
Hesitantly, Sophie retracted the SOG combat weapon from pressing against the front of Dominic’s neck, slowly withdrawing it so that it was hanging harmlessly at her side, pointed towards her feet.
Dominic exhaled deeply with relief.
Gritting through the pain in her shoulder, Sophie raised her left arm and rested a hand on Dominic’s shoulder to remind him that she hadn’t left. “Okay… move. Try anything funny and I’ll carve my initials out in your innards.”
Brayden indicated for the marines to move in, to take the man into custody. The embroilment was over.
Or so it seemed.
After taking only two steps forward, Dominic dropped to his knees and energetically carried out a low spinning hook kick. Although she was invisible, he guessed her position correctly and swept her out from under her feet, and pounced. The sound of her scream of surprise, and the metal shaft clanging away from her hand, was satisfying as he straddled the invisible hump on the
roof, momentarily pinning her down.
The knife flashed into view on the roof a couple of feet away.
Dominic knew his advantage would be fleeting. He was no match against Sophie’s strength or agility, even if she was injured; already he could feel her tensing beneath him, preparing to execute a move that would see her escape and likely bring about his downfall. Taking his chance, he raised his fisted left hand, and stabbed it down hard.
It connected with a thump.
“Ahhh!” A small bee-sting of a prick was felt beneath the blow.
The ballistic dart had been in his palm since he had sought comfort from the diamond, his hand chancing upon it completely by accident, though subconsciously he’d always known what he was likely to do with it. Finding the small missile had set his mind abuzz; it was just a matter of waiting and hoping for the right moment.
“If I can’t have my super soldiers, then neither can they…” he spoke down to the woman beneath his weight.
The special design of the hypodermic dart released its contents on impact, the collared needle fixing to the skin to ensure complete fulfilment of its injected drug.
Dominic hadn’t been able to see where the small arrow had connected, but it didn’t matter. The translucent payload entered Sophie’s bloodstream regardless and began to work immediately.
“What have you done?!” screamed Sophie. Dim and very slowly, she began to evanesce back into view; the transformation under the adverse circumstances lacked its former spectacle or excitement. She kicked Dominic off her and jumped to her feet. In less than five seconds she had completely materialised and was in full view.
The special dart was sticking out of her chest. In shock, Sophie reached up to it and pulled it free, the barbs of its tip leaving a small puncture hole beneath her clothing to the top of a breast. She flung it aside and screamed, raw and animalistic. Rage engulfed her and she started forward after Dominic Schilling, a murderous look on her face.
“Sophie, no!” yelled out Emily, running towards her.
Sophie punched Dominic in the face and aimed a kick to his solar plexus. Despite her injuries and the noticeable reduction in her strength, her fighting knowledge had not deserted her; with adrenaline fuelled by her anger pumping through her veins, she meted out more punishment, punching and kicking, forcing Dominic to backpedal hopelessly across the roof, towards its unhindered edge.
“Stop!” shouted Brayden.
“Please…” Dominic had had enough, “just finish it.” He tripped over his feet, falling hard onto his rump. He was now three feet from the roof’s precipice, lying on his back. “Put me out of my misery.”
“No chance… I haven’t finished yet.” He made to get up; Sophie’s foot connected against his chin, forcing him back with momentum. He collapsed to the roof and something sparkly fell free from his coat pocket. It rolled a short way.
“The diamond,” murmured Sophie.
Dominic laughed humourlessly, shaking his head. How things could have been different had he not been so obsessed with it. “My… precious!” he was still laughing.
“Who d’you think you are? Gollum?” she snarled. “Pitiful.” She stamped down on his good hand, hearing carpals break.
Dominic screamed. The pain in his left hand now competed with what remained of his right.
“That was for Meredith!” Before Sophie could land any more blows, Brayden grabbed Sophie from behind, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her away.
Despite the rage that burned inside the woman, the CIA agent was comfortably subduing her. Either his determination, or the sudden absence of Sophie’s abilities and weakness from losing a lot of blood, Brayden was finding the intervention very easy. “Enough, Sophie!” Brayden dragged the woman, kicking and screaming, towards where Emily and a few marines were standing. “It’s over!”
Behind them, Dominic had crawled to where the diamond had rolled to and had retrieved it, difficultly closing his hand around it, one or two of his fingers sticking out awkwardly. He stood up on unsteady feet and took a step back, teetering close to the roof’s overhang.
“Dominic, NOOOOOOO!!” Emily was the first to read the situation, and no matter what she would later think when retrospect provided time to reflect and analyse, nothing would have made a difference. His intention was finite. It was too late. Dominic had found a way out.
Without a single word, Dominic stepped sideways off the roof, disappearing into the darkness below, the sound of the Lynx helicopter and Emily’s voice the last things he would ever hear.
Brayden let Sophie slip from his hold, allowing her to trot to the place Dominic had just dropped from. Above her, the Lynx moved slightly forward, beginning a slow descent towards the painted landing spot on the roof, taking with it the main light source.
Peering over the roof’s sheer drop, Sophie expected to see Dominic lying somewhere below, but with the light dwindling behind her and the moon now submerged once again behind thick clouds, it wasn’t possible; she only saw absolute darkness. A wave of vertigo pervaded her head and she heeded the flash of warning that came with it, dropping down to the roof heavily, almost collapsing. She found lying on her back comforting, so she stretched out and stared at the sky, wishing she were able to see the stars.
“Sophie!” Emily sprinted to where the younger woman was recumbent, her breathing shallow. Kneeling down by her side, she took Sophie’s hand, resting on the tear at her stomach. It was wet and sticky with blood.
“I don’t… feel so good,” said Sophie, quietly. “When I close my eyes… I see white light… I think it’s calling to me.”
The helicopter had landed noisily behind them and Liam, still carrying his rifle, jumped down and ran to where he could see Emily stooping over Sophie.
“Ignore it, Sophie. It’s just...” Emily said some more, but Sophie didn’t hear it. Exhaustion overcame her and the light – powerful and bright – appeared to offer comfort and hope, and an answer to her problems. Following it with her mind, she thought she could see the silhouette of a man standing in the distance in the centre of the light, indiscernible but familiar. He was holding a stuffed toy; Flopsy. Closing in on him, he grew into prominence and offered her a hand for reassurance. He was friendly and filled her with calm.
Come, he said telepathically within her head. His voice was exactly how she remembered it.
“Dad?” she heard herself say, reaching out for his grasp.
George Jennings smiled. It was warm, but sad. He took hold of her hand and led her deeper into the light.
Chapter Sixty-One
POTUS
The President accepted the video conference call sitting within his customary leather chair. He was at the head of the table in the White House Situation Room within the basement of the West Wing. Deputy Director of the CIA, Milo Calland was with him; for once arriving early, along with others closely tied to the fallout of project GYGES; his Chief of Staff, the Director of the CIA Thawn Montgomery, General Bill Eastman, the Director of the FBI, Elizabeth Reeves, and several others in positions of importance. All the seats around the long, rectangular table were full, and a few dignitaries had to stand at the back and around the sides of the room.
“Mister President,” started Brayden Scott taking up the centre of the large fifty-inch screen attached to the wall opposite to President Harrison. It was clear that he was connecting with them from a British location by the portrait of a young Queen Elizabeth II on the wall behind him. He looked tired, which was to be expected after having no sleep in almost two days, the decision to brief the President outweighing his personal needs.
“Agent Scott,” President Harrison acknowledged. “So, the mission was a success,” he said, leaning forward over his crossed arms. He had already received sketchy details as they had emerged regarding the operation from intelligence operatives
within the CIA, but none of the fine detail, and certainly nothing from anyone who was live at the scene. The President was also fresh off a phone call with the British Prime Minister, David Humphries.
“Not without casualties,” Brayden replied wistfully. “The GYGES soldiers have been neutralised… the hideout has been destroyed… and Dominic Schilling is dead.” It all sounded so clinical and matter-of-fact.
“Good.” The President wore a satisfied look. A predecessor had said the same thing when learning Osama Bin Laden had been killed.
“What about my agent, Christina Mullins?” asked Elizabeth Reeves, deeply concerned for the FBI employee.
“I’ll spare you all the detail, but she’s alive, ma’am. Currently in hospital for observation; there are some minor injuries, but she’ll make a full recovery.” Royal Marines had found the FBI agent bruised and bloody in a room a couple of doors away from where Brayden had been detained. She was unconscious when discovered but came around shortly after. Before interrogating Brayden, Dominic had worked his charm on the woman. When that failed, he used his fists. “She should be discharged in a couple of days. I’ll stay in England until she is fit to travel. We’ll return to the capital together.”
“And our girl?” asked General Eastman optimistically. In a private meeting, the General had convinced the President that Sophie Jennings, regardless of her absolute immunity status, needed to be seized and taken into American custody. Her abilities made her a clear and present danger to the United States, and if – the General reasoned – she was held in trust, they might be able to convert her to their cause, or at the very least, harness her powers for other benefits through scientific research. There were people within the scientific community keen to take over from where George Jennings had left off.
The Whisper of Persia (The Girl in the Mirror Book 3) Page 45