“A dry run for what?”
Sheridan shook his head. He had no idea. Something deep down told him something else was coming and that it would be big.
They walked along in silence until they stopped at the spot where the cameraman took cover during the attack. They turned and looked across the street where Harry Williams would have been standing and walked over there. Sheridan brought out his tablet and brought up an image of the sloping road that ran past the ADF HQ. On it were three red dots indicating where the Chosen gunmen died during the battle with the security forces.
“Good God!” exclaimed Cole. “Mister Williams couldn’t have chosen a better spot to view the attack.”
“I’m right. Harry sacrificed the lives of three men just to watch how our forces would respond to an attack.”
“We need to let someone know that Mister Williams is probably planning another attack.”
“I don’t think we need to worry about ADF HQ,” said Sheridan, pointing at four mechanized walkers as they moved into position by the closed front gates. The walkers were tough robots designed for both combat and urban pacification. They stood five meters tall and walked on two sturdily constructed legs. On their two arms were an array of different weapons. From machine guns to anti-armor rockets to non-lethal weapons, the walkers were an imposing warning to anyone planning another attack on the compound.
“Of course, they have these back home on Earth,” groused Cole. “You know in all my years, I’ve yet to see one of those overpriced toys deployed with the fighting troops on the front lines.”
“Just like full-body armor,” added Sheridan. “We’ll never be issued with it. It’s far too expensive to outfit everyone in the armed forces with the latest in protective gear.”
“Ain’t that the truth. We’re fighting a war being supplied by kit from the lowest bidders.”
Sheridan patted Cole on the arm. “I think we’ve learned all we can from here. I say we grab another coffee and see if you’re right.”
“About what?”
“You believe that Harry invited us to join his little game. Let’s see if he wants to play.”
Cole nodded.
They turned to leave just as a couple of police officers walking down the road called out to them.
“Know any Italian besides how to order food?” Cole asked.
“Not a word.”
Sheridan smiled at the approaching officers. He hoped they understood English. Although taught all over the world as a second language, some people never entered the military service and consequently forgot it over time. “Good morning, gents, is there something we can do for you?”
“Si, can we please see your IDs?” said an officer with a neatly trimmed black mustache.
“Is there a problem?” Cole asked.
“Si, the army base complained that you have been watching them,” said the other officer, a man with a battered-looking face, broad shoulders, and a thick neck. “After the assassins’ attack, they are nervous about people looking at them.
“We’re just a couple of journalists who happened to be in the area and decided to see where the shooting took place,” said Sheridan, holding up his camera bag. “We’ll be on our way if our presence is disconcerting to the base.”
The bull-necked officer held up a hand. “Your IDs, please.” His firm tone told them it was an order, not a request.
Sheridan and Cole handed over their counterfeit cards and hoped that the officers wouldn’t identify them as fakes. Tension grew as they watched their cards inserted into the bottom of a portable scanner.
“One minute, please,” said the mustachioed officer as he reached down and grabbed his radio. “Our equipment is a little slow. It shouldn’t take too long for it to run your names though our database.”
“Sure, do what you must,” replied Sheridan, trying to act as calm as he could. He knew that the worst that could happen was that they would be detained until someone from the ADF came by to get them out of jail. He was more worried about losing their cover.
A minute later, their IDs were handed back. The gruff looking officer smiled. “Thank you for your patience.”
“Not at all. You can’t be too cautious after what happened here,” said Sheridan as he placed his card away.
“Si, have a good day.”
“You too.”
The two officers turned to leave but stopped in mid-stride. The man with the mustache glanced down at his wrist and then over at Cole. “Scusami, I must have left my watch at home. Do you know what time it is, Mister Cole?”
“Yeah, it’s half past—” Cole stopped what he was saying and swore. The trap had been sprung.
Both officers drew their weapons and pointed them at the Marines. “Don’t move!” warned one of the cops.
Cole looked over at Sheridan. “Sorry.”
“Not your fault,” said Sheridan, wondering how the police had seen through their subterfuge.
A large disc-shaped drone flew from the base and stopped over the top of the officers. A voice boomed from a speaker in the bottom of the UAV, “This is military surveillance drone one-alpha. Are you in need of assistance?”
The man with the mustache waved the drone away.
The drone, however, did not leave. “Please state the nature of the emergency.”
“These men are under arrest for falsifying identification documents,” answered the officer.
The UAV dropped down until it could scan Cole and Sheridan’s eyes. “Hold perfectly still,” ordered the drone. A couple of seconds later, the machine said, “Everything seems to be in order with Mister Scott and Coffin’s identifications.”
“This is a police matter that does not concern you!” snapped the bull-necked man.
The drone pirouetted around in the air so its cameras could face the policemen. “This area is still under military jurisdiction. Therefore, any detention of military or civilian personnel must be approved by the ADF Provost Marshal. Please wait where you are, a military police team is on its way to your location.”
“I guess our cops trump the local ones,” said Cole with a wide grin on his face.
All of a sudden, with a loud whoosh, a missile shot from an open window in a tall apartment building and struck the drone blasting it from the sky.
Chosen operatives flashed though Sheridan’s mind.
People caught out in the open ran for cover or ducked as burning pieces of metal fell to the ground.
Sheridan saw both phony officers stop and bring up their guns to fire when Cole, with a cry from deep inside his chest, ran at the nearest officer tackling him to the ground. The man’s partner saw what was happening and tried to help him. It was the split-second opening that Sheridan needed. He leaped forward and lashed out with his right hand smashing the gun from the surprised officer’s hand.
On the ground, the gruff officer recovered quickly. He snarled like an enraged animal and shot his head forward hitting Cole on his forehead. The impact sounded like two halves of a coconut being hit together. Cole moaned and rolled over. The imposter struggled to his feet. He didn’t bother to look for his gun, instead he turned on his heel and ran back up the street. Cole stood up. For a second, his legs felt like jelly. He shook his head to clear it, saw the Chosen agent running away, and took off after him.
Sheridan saw his friend take off after the other cop just as the man facing him brought his right fist up and tried to strike him in the stomach. He saw the move telegraphed in the officer’s eyes and stepped back slightly.
The blow, when it was thrown, missed him entirely.
Sheridan shot his right hand out, grabbed hold of the man’s outstretched arm, and pulled him closer. With a practiced move, he threw the officer over his hip. The man landed hard on the paved road, letting out a moan. Sheridan, still holding onto the policeman’s arm, went to twist it. His opponent had other ideas and swung his left foot at Sheridan’s legs knocking them out from underneath him.
Sheridan swore as h
e tumbled to the ground. The second he hit the pavement, the man with the mustache pulled his arm free and sent it straight into the side of Sheridan’s head, stunning him momentarily.
The sound of sirens racing up the road changed everything. Help was coming.
Out of the corner of his eye, Sheridan saw his opponent get up and begin to run away down a narrow alleyway. He scrambled up to his feet, picked up the attacker’s dropped pistol, and sprinted after the man. No matter what, he knew he couldn’t let the Chosen agent get away.
The bull-necked officer may have looked like he couldn’t run fast, but Cole was finding out that looks can be deceiving. The man was a good hundred meters in front of him and getting farther away by the second. The muscles in Cole’s legs burnt as he pushed them to go faster. Up ahead loomed the tall apartment building where the missile had been fired from.
From the sky a commanding voice said, “Stop, or you will be fired upon!”
Cole glanced up and saw a military helicopter. Whoever was flying the gunship was a fool, thought Cole. Had they not seen the drone shot out of the air?
“Citizen, this is your last warning.”
If he stopped now, he knew he’d never catch the fleeing man. He decided to risk being shot and kept after his quarry.
Before the twin-rotor gunship could lock any of its weapons on either man, it vanished in a thunderous explosion. Struck by a missile at close range, the craft’s self-defense mechanisms had barely registered that there was a threat when it was hit. The blast wave hit the side of the building shattering dozens of windows. Glass rained down from the sky forcing several terrified bystanders to run for their lives.
“Bloody hell,” muttered Cole as he dodged to one side to avoid a large flaming piece of debris. When he turned back to look at the entrance to the tower, his opponent had vanished. A black cloud of smoke from the burning wreckage hung in the air. Cole slowed down. His eyes sought out the man. There was no way he could have reached the building in such a short amount of time. He was fast, just not that fast. The hair went up on the back of Cole’s neck.
Without warning, the man appeared from behind a tall bush near the front of the apartment. In his hand was his spare pistol.
Cole dove for the ground just as the imposter opened fire. A swath of bullets cut through the air just above Cole’s head. Amazed to be alive, he crawled on his belly until he came to a stone bench and took refuge behind it.
A second later, the barrage stopped.
Cole popped his head up and saw his opponent running for the front doors of the tower. With a burst of adrenaline racing through his body, Cole got up and ran after the man. He saw him enter the building, push a woman away from an open elevator, and get in. A second later, the automated front doors slid open and Cole dashed inside. He stopped at the elevator and banged his fist on the up button for another elevator. He fought to get his breathing under control as he waited for the agonizingly slow elevator to arrive. Cole looked up and saw that his adversary had gotten off on the sixtieth floor. With a chime, the doors to his lift opened. He jumped in and jammed his thumb down on the button for the sixtieth floor. It was marked as the building’s observation deck.
The instant the doors closed, Cole took hold of the bag he had been carrying over his shoulder and opened it. He pulled out the case for his camera and popped open the locks. As fast as he could, Cole assembled his GR-99. Built like a pistol on steroids, the weapon in Cole’s hand was as deadly as any military machine gun. He jammed home a full magazine and charged the pistol. As he approached the sixtieth floor, Cole knew that he was going up against at least two men. He grabbed hold of three more magazines and placed them in a pocket on his jacket in case he needed them.
The elevator slowed and then came to a stop.
Cole expecting trouble, stepped back, and brought up his pistol as the doors slid open.
Sheridan came to a sliding halt outside of a small café. There was a man on the ground holding a bloody tablecloth to his head.
Shots fired inside the coffee shop made Sheridan charge his weapon. Within seconds, like a dam bursting, panicked patrons rushed to get out of the establishment. With his pistol tight in his right hand, he pushed his way in. He had just gotten past the last fleeing customer when the imposter fired off a burst in Sheridan’s direction. The bullets went wide, shattering the glass at the front of the café.
Sheridan brought his pistol down, held it in both hands, and returned fire. His burst hit the wall next to the fake officer’s head showering him with dust and plaster. The man ducked down and dove behind the bar. With instincts honed in battle, Sheridan dropped to one knee to make less of a target for his adversary. He took a guess where the man could be hiding behind the wooden bar and let off another burst.
“Stop shooting or you’ll kill me,” yelled out a terrified man.
“Show yourself,” ordered Sheridan.
Instead of his adversary, a fat man in a waiter’s uniform stood up from behind the bar with his hands held high.
“Where’s the policeman?”
The man pointed at the back entrance.
Sheridan stood and ran to the bar. Thinking that it could be a trap, he swung his pistol over as he took a quick look behind the counter. He swore. His quarry was nowhere to be seen. The man was more slippery than an eel. Sheridan turned on his heel and ran to the back door. With his weapon held out in front of him, he quickly looked both ways before stepping out into the alleyway. Sheridan cursed his bad luck when he couldn’t see the man.
Down the alley, a woman screamed in fear.
Like a sprinter hearing the starter pistol fire, Sheridan took off running. When he turned a sharp bend, his eyes lit up when he spotted the imposter barely fifty meters away. He dug deep inside of himself and picked up the pace. He wanted to catch the man alive. There were dozens of questions whirling around in Sheridan’s mind that needed answering. In seconds, he was closing the gap when he was struck in the side by a man who had walked out into the narrow street without looking. He saw the ground come up to meet him as he fell. Sheridan tried to go with the fall and hit the paved road with his shoulder. He rolled over twice before coming up on his feet right into the side of a brick wall. The sudden stop stunned Sheridan. He staggered back and struggled to catch his breath.
“You okay?” asked the man who had run into Sheridan.
He nodded and moved the man aside so he could continue his pursuit. With his body aching from the impact, Sheridan jogged the last few meters until the alley opened up into a plaza. In the distance, he could see the imposter running for the tall castle he had noticed earlier. He ground his teeth when he saw a cable car suspended in the air moving away from the castle walls. If the Chosen agent managed to get to the car before he could stop him, he would get away.
Sheridan ignored the pain in his chest telling him to slow down and hurried after the man before he could make his escape.
Chapter 13
It was all coming apart. The plan to eliminate the two troublesome humans had failed. Alarms sounded throughout the base. Soldiers rushed to secure the headquarters from any further attacks.
Solari gnashed her teeth as she watched the live feed on her computer coming from a UAV flying above the ADF complex. She saw Cole disappear inside the Fiametta Tower chasing after one of her men. A second later, the drone’s cameras focused in on Sheridan as he closed in on the other imposter. The two Marines were unlike the men she had worked with for the past couple of years as a member of General Wagner’s personal staff. Very few of the people at the headquarters had yet to see any real combat. Most talked a good story but would probably run at the first sight of a Kurgan warrior, she thought to herself. These two other men seemed to have no fear. They were like a pair of pissed off rhinoceroses charging through a crowd. They weren’t going to be stopped or dissuaded from catching their man.
“Miss Solari, what are you watching?” asked Wagner as he walked out of his office.
Solari looke
d up from her screen. “Sir, as the base is on lockdown after the missile attacks on the drone and the gunship, I’m watching the feed from a UAV as it follows the perpetrators.”
Wagner shook his head. “They’re just a bunch of amateur fools running around with loaded weapons. It’s a wonder that they haven’t shot themselves in the foot yet. Turn that damned thing off and go see if the travel arrangements for tomorrow are in order.”
Solari closed her laptop, stood, and nodded at the general. It was the third time in as many days that Wagner had sent her to check on a very straightforward flight itinerary. She mused that if she weren’t a Chosen operative that she would be insulted by Wagner’s lack of faith in her abilities. As it was, she didn’t care, it got her out of the office and away from her abusive boss for a short while.
In the hallway, a woman called out her name.
She turned and smiled when she saw her friend, Lieutenant Sally Goran, walking toward her. A military police officer, Goran was one of Solari’s few friends that she hung out with after work.
“I can’t believe that the base is under attack again. Did you see that gunship explode?” asked Goran. A nervous tension filled her voice.
Solari nodded. “It was awful. I hope they catch whoever was behind it.”
“So do I.”
All of a sudden the alarms stopped, allowing the two women to lower their voices.
Goran forced a smile. “Thank God for that. Where are you heading, Monica?”
“To the ops center to triple-check on General Wagner’s shuttle flight tomorrow. And you?”
Goran held up a tablet. “I’m on my way to deliver a report to the Provost Marshal on the unauthorized use of an experimental Home Guard stealth craft a few days ago.”
The blood in Solari’s veins turned to ice water. She was positive that they had covered their tracks so well that there couldn’t possibly be anything to report. Solari pretended to be curious. “You never told me someone took a stealth ship for a joyride. Aren’t they supposed to be out of bounds? Authorized personnel only and all that kind of stuff. Did they catch the people behind the theft?”
Vengeance (The Kurgan War Book 4) Page 7