Dawson and Niner rose.
“Thank you for your time, sir,” said Dawson, shaking Renner’s hand as the door opened and Kellner entered.
“Always a pleasure to help out the FBI.”
Dawson nodded, noting the slight smile on Renner’s face at the mention of the FBI. Dawson suppressed the frown desperate to break out.
He at least knows we’re not who we say we are.
“This way, gentlemen,” said Kellner, holding his hand out and toward the hallway.
As they stepped out into the late afternoon sunlight shining through the bank of windows an alarm sounded, red lights mounted in the ceiling at regular intervals flickering on and off. Kellner touched an earpiece, his eyes opening wide as he turned toward them.
“Trouble?” asked Niner.
Kellner reached into his jacket and Niner’s hand darted forward, crushing Kellner’s windpipe, his other hand quickly retrieving the weapon the man was reaching for.
Dawson looked behind them to see the hallway starting to fill with personnel. “Get his pass.” Niner nodded, yanking the badge and reel off the gasping man’s belt. Dawson sprinted toward the reception area, Niner on his heels.
“Halt!”
Dawson dropped his shoulder and tackled the man confronting them, nailing him square in the chest. They both hit the ground, Dawson pulling the man’s weapon and rolling to a knee, aiming down the long corridor causing most to jump back into their offices. Niner took a knee beside him and slid the heel of his shoe aside, pulling out a small square of C4 with a detonator.
Renner stepped into the hallway and Dawson took a bead on him, pulling the pass off his man’s belt.
“Gentlemen, you’re not getting out of here. Why don’t you just surrender?”
“Ready?” asked Dawson.
“As I’ll ever be.”
“Let’s go.”
Dawson rose, retreating toward the door, his weapon trained on Renner as Niner whipped the small bundle at the closed glass doors, counting down the delay he had programmed into the timer.
“And down!”
Dawson dropped to a knee, lowering his head so any glass or shrapnel would hit his back and not his neck, Niner doing the same behind him. He covered his ears and squeezed his eyes shut.
The blast was deafening and too close for comfort. His head was ringing a bit but it was nothing he hadn’t experienced hundreds of times before. He jumped to his feet, doing a self-assessment on the fly as they continued their retreat through the now shattered door.
“Our stuff, now!” shouted Niner, Kellner’s weapon pointing at the receptionist. Her hands shaking, she placed two plastic trays on the counter. They quickly filled their pockets as Dawson kept his weapon trained on the hallway.
Renner began walking toward them.
“You aren’t getting away, gentlemen.”
“Stairs?” asked Dawson, the receptionist pointing to their left. “Let’s go!”
Niner led the way, Dawson covering Renner for a few extra seconds then following Niner, his weapon aimed at the cowering occupants of the Renner Security reception area.
“It’s locked!” Dawson glanced over his shoulder to see Niner swiping Kellner’s pass to no avail. Dawson pointed the weapon at the receptionist.
“Open it!”
“I can’t! Everything is locked down!” she cried, her hands up, most of her body hidden behind the counter as she ducked.
“Cover me,” ordered Dawson as he rushed to the door, Niner taking his place. He retrieved the small block of C4 from his own shoe and placed it on the lock. “Fire in the hole!” The blast made quick work of the door and he pushed it open, checking the stairwell, finding it empty. “Let’s go!”
Niner retreated toward the door and they were soon rushing down the stairwell toward the ground floor, the sound of heavy footfalls above them keeping them motivated as their pursuers refused to give up.
Niner shoved through a fire exit, another alarm going off as they found themselves outside and at the side of the building. Two men suddenly appeared from around the front corner of the building, weapons drawn.
“Halt!”
Dawson shot the man on the left in the leg, Niner doing the same to the one on the right. Both men dropped, writhing in pain as Dawson sprinted toward them, his weapon still trained on his target, ready to take him out should he be foolish enough to try and raise his weapon again.
It fell to the ground, his partner doing the same as they instead grabbed their wounds. Dawson jumped over them, turning the corner to see civilians running away from the sound of the shots.
Good. Makes it easier to spot the hostiles.
Several men burst from the main entrance of the building, giving pursuit as Dawson located their car parked wisely on the street rather than in the underground parking that had been available to them.
“Start the car!” shouted Dawson as Niner put on a burst of speed, key fob in hand, the lights of the Ford Mondeo flashing as he unlocked the doors. Niner yanked open the driver side door as Dawson slid across the hood, weapon still extended toward their pursuers, more now pouring from the side entrance they had just come from. Niner’s door slammed shut as the engine roared to life.
“Let’s go!”
Dawson climbed in as Niner gunned the engine, sending them into traffic. Dawson hit the button for the sunroof then pushed himself through, his gun leading the way as he kept a bead on the lead pursuers just in case anyone had the idea of shooting.
Niner turned the corner just as Dawson spotted their tail from earlier. “We’ve got company!” he shouted, dropping back into the passenger seat.
“Buckle up! It’s going to be a bumpy ride!”
Dawson reached for his seatbelt as Niner jumped the curb to avoid the stopped traffic ahead, sending pedestrians screaming and fleeing, Niner laying on the horn to warn the less observant. As they barreled down the wide sidewalk Dawson checked the side view mirror to see the black Mercedes gaining, it not having to wait for pedestrians to get out of the way.
“They’re getting a little close!”
“Stop backseat driving!”
Dawson’s eyes popped wide as he turned his attention forward, a café patio rapidly approaching, people still sipping their coffee. “Umm, you see that, don’t you?”
“Don’t make me pull this car over.” Niner pumped the horn, the closest patrons beginning to abandon their drinks and seats. He adjusted their trajectory slightly, favoring the side closest to the road with about half a car width of depth available. “It’s not gonna work!” shouted Niner as he apparently noticed the same thing Dawson just had.
An iron fence lining the side of the patio facing the road.
If they took the line Niner was on now they’d hit post after post, and depending on how hard of an impact, the airbags might just deploy, cutting off their engine.
“Clear!” Niner jerked the wheel to the right, lining them up with the center of the patio just as they hit the first table, abandoned coffee cups and assorted snacks firing out in every direction including up the hood and onto the windshield.
“Where the hell are the windshield wipers?” yelled Niner, grasping at air, finally finding the stalk and turning them on.
He locked up the brakes as the sidewalk came back into view, the thick cream infused coffee cleared away, a small child with a balloon in her hand standing in the middle of the sidewalk as her mother rushed toward her, screaming.
Niner cranked the wheel to the right, sending the car into a skid as he yanked on the emergency brake then released it, gunning them down an alleyway, missing the little girl by only a few feet.
“Still on us!”
Dawson leaned forward, checking the mirror and cursed as the Mercedes pulled into the alley. “We’ve gotta lose them then this car. Cops all over the city are going to be looking for this thanks to your lane choices.”
“Hey, we’re trained to always take the lane with the least cars in it.”
&nb
sp; “Remind me to revise the training manual to define what a lane actually is.”
Niner cranked the wheel, directing them into another narrow street then hammered on the brakes, the car shuddering to a halt as a large garbage truck rumbled toward them. Niner slammed the car in reverse and floored it, the engine whining as they shot backward and past the alley they had just come from, the Mercedes about to reach them. Dawson pointed at the one way sign and was about to say something when Niner glared at him. “Not a word from the cheap seats.”
Dawson shrugged, palms upward at the garbage truck driver, giving a “Hey, what can I do” look at the irate man shaking his fist at them and seemingly not too concerned over how close he got.
The Mercedes burst out of the alleyway, the driver cranking the wheel to the left to follow, just as the garbage truck arrived at the same spot, slamming into them, shoving the driver side into the corner of an old timber framed gasthaus, shattering the first floor windows with the impact.
Dawson waved at them.
Niner spun the wheel, reversing their direction as a small courtyard opened up and gunned them from the scene, quickly turning up another lane, leaving their pursuers behind. Dawson fished out his phone and sent a message to Langley.
Need pickup.
“Let’s ditch this thing before you get someone killed.”
Niner sniffled. “I save your life and all you do is criticize. You’re such a man.”
Dawson pointed at an open parking spot. “Park it there, princess.”
Niner nosed the car in, popping up on the curb then back down. Dawson climbed out, checking to make sure their pursuers didn’t have friends, then blended in with the late afternoon pedestrians, Niner beside him.
His phone vibrated with a message.
Pickup in 15 minutes at these coordinates.
He touched his thumb on the GPS coordinates and the map application launched with instructions on how to get to the rendezvous. He showed it to Niner.
“Let’s boogey.”
Renner Security, Stuttgart, Germany
“What did they get?”
Renner was glaring at the tech as the young man’s fingers flew over the keyboard, expertly checking log files as another examined the device that had been found inserted into the back of his laptop computer. The network security software had detected the hack but he had no idea how long the device had been active before the alarm had been triggered and the internal network shutdown.
“I’m not sure yet, but they got a lot.”
“Sir!”
Renner looked toward the door, Kessler poking his head inside. “Our guys lost them, one is injured pretty bad.”
“Scheize!” Renner’s fist slammed into the desk.
“They were hit by a garbage truck. Karl has a broken arm and leg, but he’ll live.”
Renner batted the words away. “I don’t care about that. Do we have any idea where they are?”
“The tracker we put on their car has them stationary the past two minutes so we’re assuming they’ve left it. We have men heading to the area now.”
“They downloaded our employee records!” exclaimed the pimpled geek at his desk. “It looks like they pulled the entire file.”
Renner paused.
That might not be so bad.
Their employee files were all legit, and if these guys were CIA like he suspected, nothing in there would really be secret. All off-the-books projects were staffed by “former” employees, and no records were kept on the network, instead everything in a vault with an electromagnetic pulse safeguard that would wipe all of the data in the event of a breach.
“They got nothing,” he finally said, looking at Kessler. “Nothing of value, at least.”
Kessler smiled. “So our security software worked.”
Pimples raised his hand. “Umm, no, it looks like they had already broken their connection.”
Renner’s eyes narrowed, not liking the implications. If they were the ones that broke the connection, then that meant they had what they wanted. “But why would they want personnel files?”
Kessler stepped farther into the room, arms folded across his chest, one hand rubbing his chin. “We keep tombstone data in there like name, address, phone number, date of birth.”
Pimples’ head bobbed. “Employee history, banking information, emergency contacts—”
Renner snapped his fingers. “Banking information.” As soon as he heard it he knew what they were after. Due to the nature of his employees’ work he was quite certain the CIA would have thick dossiers on them all including all of their biographical information and current contact information. But they might not have their financial data, and if they did, they almost certainly didn’t have any buried accounts. “I want every single employee file checked, starting with recent layoffs. I want to know if any of their bank accounts are private.”
Kessler lowered his voice. “What are you thinking?”
Renner ignored him for a moment as he contemplated the consequences. If one of his men had used a Swiss or Cayman account instead of a regular account at a German bank, he might also be using that same account for the off-the-books work. And if he had, then the CIA might be able to track who they were actually working for.
Which might mean they’d actually catch the moneyman and possibly tie his company to half a dozen murders.
And that meant prison time.
He looked at Kenner.
“We need to talk.”
Kienestrasse, Stuttgart, Germany
Niner looked at the postcards on display, one with a large Porsche logo catching his eye. He plucked it from the rack and flipped it over.
Porsche Museum? Cool!
He returned it to the rack and casually glanced over his shoulder as the chimes over the door rang, a new customer entering the tiny kiosk filled with souvenirs. Dawson looked at his watch. “It’s time.”
Dawson pulled open the door and stepped outside, looking both ways as Niner nodded to the store owner behind the counter then followed. Dawson turned left, the rendezvous just around the corner, as Niner looked right, a black sedan rounding the corner, travelling just a little too slow to be natural. He reached out and grabbed Dawson, yanking him around and into his arms as Niner planted his lips on his commander’s.
Dawson did the same, not reacting like he might at The Unit, instead going along with the only cover Niner could think of on the fly, for there was one thing he knew ex-Special Forces types wouldn’t want to pay too much attention to, and that was two men making out.
He slowly turned their intertwined bodies so he could see the car slowly make its way past them, the two occupants eyeballing everyone on the street, including them for a moment before continuing on and around the corner.
Niner let go. “Mmm, Maggie’s a lucky girl.”
Dawson wiped his lips. “I’m assuming you had a reason for that other than the desperate desire for an ass whooping.”
Niner nodded toward the corner where the car had turned. “Friends of Herr Renner’s, I believe.” They resumed their walk toward the rendezvous point. Niner looked over at Dawson. “Can I ask you something?”
Dawson grunted. “I’m already terrified. What?”
“How was I?”
“Huh?”
“How was I? You know, as a kisser. It’s not something you can ask a girl. I’ve been told I’m a good kisser, but you can’t always believe what a girl’s telling you, sometimes they’re just trying to get into your pants so they’ll tell you anything.”
“That ass whoopin’ might just be back on the agenda.”
“Aww, come on, BD, tell me, if you were gay, would you have been turned on by that kiss?” Niner grinned. “I know I would be. You’re a very good kisser!”
Dawson shook his head then looked up at the sky. “Why God hast thou forsaken me?”
A parked car flashed its lights ahead ending Niner’s fun. “That must be them.”
Dawson looked and nodded, tapping
his watch twice with his right hand. The lights flashed again. “That’s them. Thank God.”
Niner grinned and clasped his hands behind his back, skipping the final few steps to the car. He opened the back door, motioning for Dawson to get in.
“After you, sweetheart.”
Dawson climbed in then backhanded Niner’s balls causing him to double over in pain.
“If I had of known you were going to go all Fifty Shades on me, I’d of tried kissing you sooner.”
He climbed in and closed the door as Dawson cursed.
“I can’t win.”
Basilica of Sant’Agostino, Rome, Italy
“I trust everything has been resolved?”
Acton nodded at Father Albano as they took their seats in the cramped rectory. “For now, at least.” Precious time had been lost, too much time, but he knew Laura would never have forgiven him if he had left Terrence and Jenny, two of her favorite students, to twist in the wind with the Italian authorities. And the bottom line was he needed them. Their extra sets of eyes would save him far more time than had been lost.
He was just thankful that Giasson had been able to grease the wheels, assuring the Italian authorities that he would take personal responsibility and make certain they showed up for full depositions in the morning.
It’s good to have friends in high places.
Money greased the wheels outside the Western world, but within it, it seemed to only grease political wheels, and that usually in the form of some sort of donation.
It never really expedited those things that needed extreme haste.
But power did, and Giasson had it, at least in Rome, the deeply religious community giving the Vatican a lot of respect. And latitude.
“As you saw earlier, we have hundreds of remains in the catacombs beneath these buildings, and they are among many thousands in the city. These catacombs have been closed off to the public for centuries, in fact, most don’t even know they exist. Until today, I myself have only been in them twice before. It’s simply too dangerous.”
Acton nodded. “It did look like there had been some recent cave-ins. I agree it’s too dangerous to simply search without knowing at least where to begin or what we’re looking for.”
Blood Relics (A James Acton Thriller, #12) Page 18