FREEFALL (A Megalith Thriller Book 1)

by D R Sanford

  The bell rang. Doors opened on an empty car and the team filled in. Laeg pressed the 'L' button for their Lobby destination. Within seconds, an LCD screen came to life over the doors. The face that greeted them was unfamiliar to Cullen, but Robbie let out a gasp upon seeing the weathered face of a man in his sixties. A ring of silver hair circled over his ears and flowed down into a bushy white beard. He had a broad nose, crooked from an old break, and smiling eyes the color of the sea.

  “Relief Team 6, this is Cruacha 2,” his gruff voice announced. “Please stand by while I complete a visual check against your files.”

  Cullen heard Robbie's anxious whisper, “That's Fergus. Ohmygod.” Seeing Fergus excited her, and he wondered what it would be like to meet a living patron saint. It had to be a very special moment for Robbie to break her generally surly demeanor.

  “Please look up to the screen when I call your name.”

  “Luke Flannagan.” Laeg tilted his head.

  “Bronwyn Wolfe.” Robbie stood tall.

  “Doctor Alex Cathbad.” Alex squeezed between Cullen and Ferdiad.

  “Martin MacBrehon.” Val shuffled behind him.

  “Jamie Magee.” Ferdiad winked to the screen, giving Fergus a smile.

  “Leroy Jenkins.” Larkin snickered and eagerly saluted.

  “Max Rotansky.” Cullen took a deep breath and looked up to find Fergus peering into the camera. He felt like a bug under a magnifying glass, being analyzed for any possible defects. Cullen looked away first, his eyes on the closed doors and keenly aware that they were trapped.

  —Chapter 19—

  INFILTRATE

  “Welcome to Cruacha, Relief Team 6. I will meet you in the atrium.”

  Without lurching, the elevator car climbed upward, covering the short distance in a few seconds. Just long enough for Cullen to exhale the breath he was holding and take in another. Ferdiad lay a firm hand on his shoulder. He looked up at the big man and received an encouraging smile.

  “I believe in you, Cullen. We wouldn't be here without you.”

  “Speak for yourself,” Robbie murmured.

  Cullen was grateful they were splitting up soon, to spend the next few hours with more supportive companions.

  “What?" she whispered. "You know damn well I'd be here regardless." A weak attempt at an apology, but Cullen would take it.

  The elevator slowed to a stop, chimed, and unsealed its doors. Laeg took the lead, exiting the car and stepping forward. Two rows of three followed him into a spacious atrium. Cullen bathed in the rose colored sunset streaming in through the glass-fronted building.

  They marched over wide hardwood planks that glowed with a waxy sheen, the natural patterns flowing like a river across the floor.

  Dwarfing everything else in the lobby, an ancient oak tree grew on the far side of the open space, towering over them. Cullen gazed upward in amazement, trying to figure out if the building was constructed around the tree or if it was planted after construction was completed.

  For such a large room, there was a noticeable lack of activity in the lobby. A reception desk sat under the tree, guarded by a man in uniform. A tall man in a navy blue suit leaned against the desk, smiling in their direction. Closed doors stood on either side of the tree trunk.

  Recalling the floor's blueprints, Cullen knew the nearest doorway opened into the building's security offices. The far door led to a staircase that reached all the floors except Maeve's fourth floor chambers.

  Above them, a balcony ran along the second floor from the edge of the oak's canopy to the lobby's southern end where hardwood stairs met the atrium. No entrances broke the span of opaque, mirrored glass across the third and fourth floors.

  “The look on your faces! It never grows old.” Fergus' voice boomed from where he stood beneath the tree.

  He advanced on them, a man in his sixties and fully confident in his step. If Ferdiad was formidable, this man made him look like a cream puff. He resembled a linebacker. Not one of the pumped-up new players, though. In fact, without the beard, he'd resemble Green Bay's Hall of Fame player, Ray Nitschke.

  “It's hard to miss our living cornerstone isn't it? I can always tell the newbies when they visit for the first time. All except for you, Mr. Magee. Do I remember you from somewhere?”

  Ferdiad stepped forward, eagerly shaking hands with Fergus. “It's been a long time, and I wish it were under different circumstances. I missed you, old friend.”

  They clapped each other on the shoulder. “I missed you too, uh," he paused to check his clipboard, "Jamie. This is quite a team you've got here. Shall we get you checked in and off to your posts?”

  “Definitely,” Ferdiad responded. “One thing, though. Is our queen on site? I was hoping to have a word with her.” Cullen noticed that Ferdiad kept his head bent away from the upper windows.

  “She is, of course, on site for the early morning ceremonies. But I'm afraid I cannot arrange a meeting for you. I checked her schedule and was disappointed to find that she blocked off the entire evening for conference calls.”

  In a louder, more assertive voice, Ferdiad said, “Sounds good to me. We're all eager to perform our duties.”

  Fergus gestured toward the near door under the balcony. “Let's get you set up with access badges first, then you can all join your units.”

  Before they reached the door, Cullen heard the ding of the elevator. Already on edge, the hairs on the back of his neck prickled. He and the others turned their heads to a very disconcerting sight. Walking toward them, flanked by six enormous men, was a woman of stunning beauty and presence. Her high heels struck across the lobby with the sound of hammer falls.

  Cullen noticed Ferdiad shuffling in behind him and cursing under his breath. Unless he was exercising, which wasn't very often, Cullen wasn't much of a sweater, but he suddenly grew very uncomfortable.

  Fergus stepped between them and the advancing entourage wearing a smile. “What a rare honor you've been given, Mr. Flannagan. Please show your respects to our beneficent queen, Maeve.”

  Safe inside her bubble of armed men, Maeve stopped and examined their team from a very close ten feet. Laeg walked forward two steps then dropped one knee to the floor in deference. Cullen and the others followed suit. Personally, he was quite happy to turn his face to the floor rather than meet her gaze.

  She hadn't been anything like what he anticipated. No more than thirty years old and taller than himself in those heels, Maeve could have been a Hollywood star. Flowing auburn hair curled down past her shoulders. A sleeveless charcoal blouse and matching black pencil skirt accentuated her athletic frame.

  Cullen found it hard to reconcile the image of the beauty queen standing before them and the centuries old soul that inhabited her body. How selfish and vain she must be to have stolen a life with such promise.

  “Please stand up, and accept my welcome to Cruacha,” her voice rang with authority, husky and strong. “It's good to have some fresh reinforcements on the grounds, Fergus. I don't believe I've seen them before, have I?”

  “No, Maeve. It took some time, but I managed to sort through recommendations from the families. We have a solid mix with medical and security experience. In fact, I was just about to check them in for active duty.”

  Cullen watched Maeve's guards for any signs that their cover was blown. It was hard to tell, since all six looked hard as nails and ready to throw down at a moment's notice. They eyed Cullen's group like owls scanning for prey, heads on a swivel and hands close to their sidearms.

  Fergus dipped in a short bow and took a step back, saying, “With your permission, we'll be on our way.”

  She gave him a curt nod, looked at them once more, and spun on her heel, heading for the staircase leading to the second floor. Cullen exhaled a breath he must have been holding for minutes. He wanted desperately to move out of her presence and begin his search for Nora.

  “Oh, Fergus, before you go, can you and Doran here please show Ferdiad to a holding cell?” St
anding on the first step, Maeve extended her arm and pointed over Cullen's shoulder to where Ferdiad stood.

  Panic shook the seven raiders, but Ferdiad acted quickly. He moved around Cullen and calmly approached a guard in the process of detaching himself from Maeve's circle and drawing his weapon.

  Ferdiad held his hands out in supplication and meekly addressed Maeve, “Your highness, please forgive my boldness, but I realized my mistake in leaving you and—”

  “Stop where you are,” Doran commanded.

  He held his Kimber steady on Ferdiad's forehead, but made an error by allowing Ferdiad to close the gap between them. Faster than Cullen's eyes could track, Ferdiad's pleading hands shot up, forcing Doran's two-handed grip toward the ceiling. His right hand reached higher and pushed the weapon's slide back to disable it. With all the force in his body, Ferdiad drove his knee into Doran's groin, then crushed his jaw with an elbow strike. A crack to the other side on the back-swing sent the guard to the floor.

  All eyes focused on Ferdiad and the pistol in his hand. Two of Maeve's guards rushed her up the stairs. The others pressed toward Ferdiad, drawing their weapons.

  He looked backward only long enough to shout the order, “Get out of here!”

  Tossing the weapon, his best chance of survival, behind him, Ferdiad squared his shoulders and bull-rushed his assailants.

  ***

  Why was everyone so prone to violence? Alex couldn't figure it out and did not have time to ponder it. He backpedaled and slid behind the reception desk for cover. Speeding by, Robbie snagged his wrist and yanked Alex back to his feet, heading for the opposite side of the oak's trunk.

  Velasco led the way to the stairwell door, followed by Larkin, Laeg, and Cullen. Chips of bark exploded from the tree trunk, stinging his face and urging Alex to greater speed.

  The gunshots must have come from the balcony, because they ceased when the team reached the relative safety beneath it. Robbie cleared the doorway, and Alex stopped for a breath. He wished there was something to do for Ferdiad. Seeing him at the center of the lobby with one guard's head under his arm and another dangling by his throat from Ferdiad's hand, Alex fought with his inner drive to aid a friend in need.

  Rather than waste Ferdiad's distraction by getting himself killed, Alex backed into the stairwell with a prayer on his lips.

  ***

  Larkin stopped halfway up the second floor stairwell. They had to keep moving. Why were they not running up the stairs? Instead, Laeg huddled them together to hand out orders.

  “We're screwed, right?”

  Quick nods agreed.

  “So let's try to make the best of it. It's time to split up. Val, come to the second floor with me and Robbie, then slip back down to the armory for anything that can help us break out of here. Cullen and Alex, go with Larkin to the apartments on the third floor. Take this.”

  The pistol Ferdiad tossed their way. Good, someone else was armed now.

  “New timetable. Over ten minutes, and we're all toast. Any parking stall with a vehicle is your best way out. Keep moving, and good luck.”

  Larkin took that as his cue to climb the stairs. Adrenaline spiked in his bloodstream. Nothing felt so good as to face death and spit in its face. This was going to be a great day.

  “Let’s give ‘em hell and hand grenades,” he called, before continuing his ascent to the third floor.

  ***

  The plan was busted. Other than the Kimber in Cullen's hand, no one else had a weapon. Laeg disappeared into the second floor with Robbie and Velasco. They were her best bet in recovering Amelia from the nursery, yet with nearly two hundred security staff on campus, how far could any of them expect to make it?

  Ferdiad was probably bleeding out on the lobby hardwood. The minutes left in their lives were quickly counting down. All because of him, for his need to find Nora.

  A door clanged shut on the second floor landing. Cullen neared the third floor when shouts and footsteps carried up from the lobby level. He leaned over the staircase to check it out. No way were they getting out alive. A response team methodically covered the stairwell, fully outfitted in urban response gear.

  On top of the bullet-proof vests, the team below looked like a phalanx of beetles in their added protection of helmets and riot shields.

  A tug at his elbow drew Cullen back to his senses. Larkin held the door to the third floor. Alex beckoned for him to move.

  Maybe, with an extreme amount of luck, Cullen could just reach Nora for a moment, look in her eyes, and they would both know he had refused to give up on her. He could die for that.

  They sprinted down the hall, heading for a set of double doors. It occurred to Cullen that if they could block the doors from the other side, they might buy some time, perhaps enough to find another exit.

  “Hold on guys. We need to lock up this door somehow.” Cullen turned to a recessed door on their right and pulled it open. He flicked a light switch, never happier to see the inside of a maintenance closet.

  Larkin passed by with a congratulatory pat on the shoulder and that ridiculous smile on his face. What was there to be happy about? Cullen glanced back down the hall. No sign of the entry team yet. Alex waited patiently by the double doors.

  Larkin exited the closet with a coil of steel aircraft cable and a lock while pocketing a strangely hooked knife. He nudged the right door open after peeking through a small crack. Alex slipped by and stepped to the other side, out of sight.

  Looking down at the .45 in his hand, Cullen decided that seeing Nora again was not good enough after all.

  All or nothing.

  The urge to run faded away. With nowhere left to go, he stoked the fire within. Two hundred men stood between him and the woman he loved. Seven rounds filled the Kimber's magazine, and the men ascending the stairs behind him were bound to have more.

  —Chapter 20—

  PANIC

  What good was a pipe wrench against heavily armed soldiers? Maybe he could bludgeon a few of them if they agreed to stand still. Not likely. Cullen searched the tool bench for anything that could raise the stakes against the team climbing the stairwell.

  He heard Larkin tightening the steel coil around the handles of the double doors. That should buy a little time while the enemy figured out how to get past the doors. If he was lucky, perhaps Cullen could catch them unaware and do some damage while Alex and Larkin searched for Nora.

  What if they searched the maintenance closet first? That would be very bad. Cullen scrambled through the tools and some shelving on the opposite side of the room. Plungers and bottles of drain cleaner weren’t going to help at all. The ball peen hammer could work, but again, they'd have to be unarmed for him to get very far with it.

  The needle sharp point of a four inch scratch awl caught his eye. Cullen snatched it off the bench and held the knob in his left hand. It fit perfectly in his palm. Sure that a well aimed strike with the awl was as good as a bullet, he flicked off the closet’s light switch. Fingers tightening around the awl and the Kimber’s grip, Cullen crouched inside the doorway, ready to spring.

  They entered from the stairwell without a sound. Shuffling feet and clinking gear drew his attention. Cullen filled his lungs with deep breaths to pump oxygen into tense muscles. Dipping lower in his stance, Cullen bore the awl at knee level and aimed the pistol a few inches inside the door knob.

  Shadows darkened the crack beneath the door. Equipment rattled. Whispered commands passed between the men.

  The knob jiggled, and Cullen readied himself to launch.

  “The doors are blocked. We need to breach,” called from outside the door.

  The hand released the knob and footsteps drew away. What now? How does a team breach doors? With a ram? No, too slow.

  Retreating shadows and sounds told Cullen they were backing away from the doors while someone else worked on it. They must be preparing the doors with an explosive charge. If they distanced themselves from the blast, what would happen to him when it ble
w?

  His upper lip twitched. A crackle of energy spread across his scalp. Cullen's vision turned red, and he gave himself over to the rage building within. He had a surprise for them.

  ***

  Ryan loved this shit.

  What good was sitting around the Ready Room through a four hour shift in full gear with nothing to respond to? Nothing ever happened here in Cruacha. Sure, Maeve and the future family members required security, but who was stupid enough to invade Cruacha?

  Gunfire in the lobby set off all kinds of alarms in the building, and Ryan couldn't have been happier when Operations authorized them to engage internal, aggressive targets.

  This is not a drill.

  He didn’t think he'd ever hear those words on this tour, and now he was practically wetting his pants in anticipation.

  Mark faced them at the Ready Room doorway, finger against his earpiece to receive orders.

  “Mac. Shane. Strap on the riot shields and lead the way. Eric. Todd. You have first contact. Ryan and I have your backs. Move out to the north stairwell.”

  Like dogs on the hunt they poured out of the room. Mac and Shane hauled ass even with shields riding on their backs. The team's helmets bobbed up and down in rhythm as they crossed the security offices.

  They passed the B-team, hopping around like rabbits in a fox den trying to get prepped and active. Suckers. So much for passing on the evening shift. There wouldn't even be scraps for them to clean up in ten minutes.

  Bunched up at the stairwell doorway, the team halted for orders.

  Mark consulted his earpiece again. “We have alarms on the second and third floor. Our primary objective is securing the third floor. B-team will take the second. Be alert. Fergus says they're unarmed, but let's not get caught off-guard.”