by E Y Mak
The other Ghillie suit scrutinized the group. He was shorter, his voice lower. After some deliberation, the shorter man called Mueller said, “I thought there were five of you.”
Russell took a quick headcount. He and Candice were still propping up Ricardo. Benita was standing directly in front of them. He craned his neck behind him and stared into the vast forest behind him. In the distance, he could see the foreboding outline of the compound lurking atop the cliff, just peaking out between trees. Heavy drops of rain danced down the side of the trees, forming thick, muddy puddles in the ground.
Dominique was gone.
“He was right behind us,” Benita said to no one in particular.
Schmidt began fiddling with his goggles as he scanned the distance. He was probably either trying to hunt Dominique’s heat signature in the distance or using the three-dimensional map created by the drones. Russell and the rest of the group stayed silent, content in letting Schmidt do the searching for them. Their patience was rewarded when Schmidt said, “Looks like he’s heading towards the Ndian drilling site.”
“Can you get a visual of the Ndian site? Is anyone else there?” Benita asked.
Schmidt nodded and ducked down, once again fidgeting with the heads-up display in his goggles. “There are three people already there.”
“Can you tell who?” asked Mueller.
“The visual is pretty weak. But one of them has a tracking ID,” said Schmidt. “It’s Petri.”
“Petri Ulanov?” said Russell.
“He was stationed with us earlier,” said Benita. “But someone managed to take out Bob and the Cameroon soldier we were with. Whoever has Petri probably also knows what he was brought here to do to the repository.”
“Or worse,” said Russell. “He or she knows what Petri can do to Phineas. He has top-level clearance at Phineas and intimate knowledge of its systems.”
We need to help him. We need to get him back.
“The Mercs are going to be tied up taking out the compound and destroying the repository,” said Candice. She knew where I was going with this.
“I’ll go with you,” volunteered Ricardo. He understood what Russell was going to do too.
Mueller shook his head. “With respect, sir, you are in no condition to do so. I’ll go with Russell. Schmidt, you stay back with Ricardo. You can be our eyes and ears in the sky.”
Ricardo nodded reluctantly.
“I’m going too,” said Benita.
“And me too,” said Candice.
Russell smiled. He was glad that he wasn’t going to have to go in to get Petri alone. And he was worried about endangering the others. But deep down, he knew that both Benita and Candice could more than take care of themselves.
“Alright,” he said. “Let the Mercs know what we’re doing and send them to the drilling site as soon as they can,” said Russell. He turned to the rest of his team.
“Move out,” he said.
Chapter Seventy-Seven
The group had managed to find a cleared trail after backtracking towards the compound. The dirt path was rough, but they had seen fresh boot prints underneath some hedging that hadn’t yet been washed away by the heavy rain.
“Dominique,” said Mueller to the group.
In the distance, they saw the dim flashing light on the top of a flagpole rising in the distance. The flagpole was where the center of the drilling site was. Russell had researched these sorts of sites extensively in his previous life running due diligence for clients on Wall Street. At the site, Russell knew what he would find. A portable building serving as a base of operations. A canteen and a washroom. A meeting room, a rec room, and some sleeping quarters.
And in a remote area like this, a helicopter pad.
There would be at least one drill rig at the site. The mobile drill rigs created holes in the ground, and compressed air would be shot deep into the ground through a down-hole hammer, sucking up rock cuttings to the surface. The rock cuttings would be collected and then sent to a laboratory. The laboratory would then analyze the samples and make a conclusion on how much of a specific targeted element would be present. Using various mapping techniques, the data from each hole would be compiled and calculated to create a resource estimate. If there was a significant enough resource estimate to suggest an economically feasible mining site, the owner of the resource rights could profit tremendously.
Russell looked down at the mud that he was stepping in. Somewhere below him was the gold discovery of Tim Butler’s life.
It was the find that ended his life.
They trudged along, moving closer to the drilling site. It was a clearing. As suspected, several portable buildings, a drill rig, some all-terrain vehicles. The charred remains of a helicopter were strewn across the helipad.
Russell and his group crept to the edge to the shrubbery. He could see faint light inside the largest of the portable buildings. He raised the Bushnell binoculars to his eyes and propped himself up on one knee. It was difficult to see much in the night rain.
“I’ve lost contact with Schmidt,” said Candice. “There’s just too much interference right now. I hear him, but it’s mostly static.”
“We’ve got to secure the campsite,” said Mueller.
“Okay. Benita and I will secure the main building and the adjacent buildings. You two,” Russell said as he pointed at Mueller and Candice then at a building in the distance, ”secure that warehouse over there.”
Chapter Seventy-Eight
From the south side of the camp, Candice could see Russell and Benita sneaking up to the large metal container that served as the makeshift mess hall for the Ndian Resource company. She and Mueller were following the perimeter of the site. She felt Mueller’s right hand on her shoulder, and they walked in tandem towards the warehouse in the heavy rain, Candice leading the way.
About fifty yards away from the warehouse, they encountered a dirty white Toyota pickup truck. She glanced inside the cab. Empty. She checked the cargo area and saw nothing but a locked toolbox and some wet sheet metal. She whispered, “Clear,” into her mic.
“Copy that,” blared Schmidt’s voice from her headset. His voice crackled. “I got . . . for you until you hit the warehouse. Visibility is negative . . . the warehouse.”
Then silence.
Candice ignored the headset for now. She had more urgent concerns at the moment. The rain had become so heavy that mud began to collect in the campsite. As they got closer to the warehouse, each step sunk her leg about a foot into the filth. Candice and Mueller trudged along, slowly, until they were no more than ten yards from the warehouse. The building was featureless except for the metal entrance door and the two windows flanking it. The warehouse itself was surrounded by a walkway, and a loud metallic sound reverberated from the walkway as they stepped onto the platform. So much for the element of surprise.
Undeterred, Candice walked up to and looked in the window. She couldn’t get a good look inside. A thick layer of dust had formed on the inside of the window, and even in the driving rain, the reflection from the lamps lighting the camp blocked her view into the dark room. She knelt down and put her ear to the warehouse. The only sounds she could hear were the crashing of the rain and her own nervous breathing.
As they continued on the walkway, Candice looked off the side of the walkway. On this side of the building, the walkway overlooked a twenty-foot drop. She quickly turned away, her fear of heights rising quickly.
“Let’s go inside,” she said, inching towards the door, gun drawn.
Suddenly, Mueller’s right hand on her shoulder weakened.
“Check your six! Tango coming—!” Schmidt’s voice suddenly screamed through the headset, his last few words swallowed by a burst of static.
Candice whipped around to see blood already spurting out of Mueller’s throat. She lifted her pistol in one fluid motion to aim right behind Mueller, but couldn’t get a lock on the attacker. He had ducked behind Mueller’s thick body and was using him
as a human shield. Mueller gasped for air as blood streamed down the open wound on his throat, coating the chest of his Phineas tactical uniform in a thick crimson layer.
As she frantically scanned, trying to get a bead on Mueller’s attacker, the assailant lifted Mueller’s body upwards and pushed forward towards her. Candice walked back, gun drawn, still trying to get a good lock on the assailant. She had taken five steps back when her last step found no footing.
She fell backward off the walkway and felt the weightlessness of freefall. Time slowed down as Candice fell, and she eventually landed with a big splash in the thick mud.
The impact of her landing caused pain to tear through her body, and she felt a sharp stinging sensation permeate her lower back. She took a few seconds to compose herself and control her breathing before she slowly opened her eyes.
Though dazed, she looked back up at the walkway, aiming her pistol at it uselessly. But as she looked up, Mueller’s body rolled into the open air and plummeted towards her. It landed beside her, but one of his muscular arms landed across her chest and stomach full force. She gasped from this weight and let go out of the pistol. It splashed in the mud beside her, lost in the murky water.
About ten seconds passed and she saw a shadowy figure slide down the muddy embankment connected to the underside of the warehouse.
“Candice,” a familiar voice said.
She looked up. Seeing his face again immediately slowed down time for her.
She watched as Harry lifted his knife and took a step towards Candice. Despite his frozen face, she knew his thoughts were of lust and perversion and hate and anger.
She watched as he hopped off the embankment into the mud. The grimy filth splashed as he jumped in. The rain fell onto him, water matting his hair against his unmoving skin and flowing down the crevices of his face. She madly fished in the water with her free arm, trying to locate the pistol.
Harry approached her slowly. Before she could stop him, he had flung Mueller’s arm aside and climbed on top of her, straddling her body. She struggled, but she was still dazed from the fall and he easily overpowered her, pinning her left arm to the ground with his knees. He raised the knife so that she could see and then touched it to her face, but then she watched as he put it down in the mud instead. With only one hand free, she helplessly tried to stop his bare hands from wrapping around her thin neck.
She watched his unmoving face as he squeezed with those bare hands as hard as he could. She choked and started to see red.
As she let her free arm slowly drop down, her hand brushed against a hard metal object. She picked it up, then with her last ounce of strength, pulled it out of the water and pointed it at Harry.
She looked straight into his expressionless eyes as he finally saw the pistol pointing at his chest.
She smiled as she pulled the trigger. The impact of the bullet drove Harry upward and away from her. She heard him land with a splash far away.
“Hello, Harry,” she said to herself quietly as she watched the rain fall against her face.
Chapter Seventy-Nine
Benita and Russell had started moving on the eastern perimeter of the camp of the drilling site. They stayed behind the treeline, just out of sight of the buildings. Between the rain and the darkness, they were undetectable.
Now that they were just outside the main building, Russell disabled the safety on his pistol and aimed forward as he approached the rear door. His last three steps before reaching the side of the portable were slow and deliberate, trying hard to avoid splashing. He saw an open window in the back, and Russell walked up and peered inside. He saw Petri, tied up to his chair. He looked afraid, but not injured. A frantic shadow danced on the back wall. There was at least one other person in the room. He peered a bit farther in. It was Mauritius. But a much different Mauritius. The Mauritius he knew was calm. Always in control. This version of Mauritius was nasty. Aggressive. He was yelling something into a walkie-talkie. In his other hand, he held a pistol.
There was no one else in the room.
As Russell looked in, he saw Mauritius turn towards Petri.
“Our organizations aren’t that different, yours and mine,” Mauritius snarled at Petri. “We both peddle in information. We both use personal data to achieve our objectives. What is it about Phineas that makes it noble, and mine criminal? It’s famous creed? We all know that Phineas doesn’t exactly operate with clean hands, either. Just give me what I need.”
Russell ducked beneath the window and looked back. He scanned the other buildings and saw Benita doing the same.
Where was Harry?
“We need a diversion,” said Russell. “He’s got Petri.”
Almost on cue, the sound of a gunshot crackled in the distance. Both Russell and Benita jumped, startled by the sudden sound. They glanced at each other quickly, but they were both fine. Soon, however, they heard another sound—footsteps inside in the building—getting louder and rushing towards the open window.
Russell ducked further beneath the window ledge and Benita rolled to the side, turning back to face the window. The footsteps stopped almost directly above him, and though Russell couldn’t see Mauritius, he knew he was there, just on the other side of the open window, scanning the darkness.
Russell’s eyes locked on Benita’s big brown eyes. She didn’t look at him, and instead stared above his head into the open window. Russell looked up as well.
“YOU!” Mauritius yelled. Russell saw the barrel of Mauritius’s pistol hover above the window ledge moving towards Benita.
Russell leaped skyward and grabbed Mauritius’s pistol hand. With one strong pull, he used all of his weight to yank Mauritius from his perch and straight out the window. He dropped Mauritius down and slammed him headfirst into the muddy ground, knocking him out. Mauritius’s unconscious body lay strewn on the ground, limbs akimbo, as blood began to stream from his nose.
Russell felt Mauritius’s pulse. Still alive. He kicked Mauritius’s pistol under the building before patting him down. He was clean.
While Russell was searching Mauritius, Benita restrained their captive with a set of military handcuffs pulled from her belt. Afterward, they rolled him onto his back. We need the guy alive. They could not risk him choking on the rising muddy waters.
With Mauritius subdued, Russell immediately kicked down the front door and rushed in. He heard banging and shuffling coming from within the building. He advanced, slowly, pistol drawn, checking the corners of the room methodically. Seeing that the room was clear, Russell picked up Mauritius’s unconscious body and carried it into the tiny little one-room building.
While Russell had been carrying Mauritius inside, Benita had already gone in and untied Petri, who was now sitting on a cushioned sofa on the east wall, cupping his head with his hands and rocking back and forth. Russell not-so-gently dropped Mauritius on the floor next to Petri. After setting him down, Russell turned to Benita and asked, “Are the Mercs almost done cleaning up the compound?”
A moment passed as Benita relayed the question to Schmidt.
“I think so. They are sending a chopper to pick us up,” said Benita.
“Where’s Dominique?” said Russell.
Benita answered. “Who knows. He’s either dead in the forest or escaped on his own. Schmidt hasn’t been able to locate him. But he’s not our concern,” said Benita. “Petri is, and he’s safe now.”
Russell looked at Petri. His hands were still cupping his eyes. Russell knelt down beside him and asked, “Are you Okay?”
Petri nodded without looking up. "We were here to rescue you!” he said with a faint smile.
Chapter Eighty
Twelve hours later
I sit quietly and gaze out at the bars around me. There are about ten others in the cell. I recognize a couple of them. Mostly soldiers from the compound. There aren’t a lot of people left. Most just ran into the forest after those Phineas mercenaries arrived. My cellmates were locals, some criminals, but no match for a
trained, elite fighting force. They basically surrendered the moment that they saw the choppers in the sky.
The hackers, I heard, were left behind in the compound. Someone would be coming for them, I heard. They were locked in the control room until more Phineas people would arrive to collect them.
I nurse the bullet wound in my shoulder. The girl hit me and knocked me out. But it wasn’t a mortal wound. I would live to see another day.
I see the Warden in the back of the cell behind the bench. He was lying on his back. But he was awake. I could see him fidgeting. They had left the restraints on him. He couldn’t move. I walk over to him.
“Mauritius,” I said as I kneel down beside him.
“Where are we?” he asks.
“The brig of the Justicia, one of the Phineas airplanes,” I say.
“They won’t get through Debundscha airport,” he says. “I have friends there. They’ll help us escape.”
“Okay,” I say to him.
I look around me. Everyone is transfixed on looking out the windows of the airplane. Most of these guys have probably never been on an airplane before. It’s pretty loud here between the engine roaring and the rain and the wind pelting the plane.
Before I was put into this cell, I had been stopped by a Phineas agent that I knew from my work at the NYPD. He offered me a deal, and I had agreed to it.
I turn back to Mauritius. Quietly, I put my hands on his mouth, and I push my left knee into his back. Before he even got the chance to react, I push down hard with my knee and pull straight back. I hear the sound of the pedicles in his spine fracturing and the Warden gasping for air.