“Raptor One, Sierra Four. Target is hot, deliver package, I say again, deliver package, over.”
“Sierra Four, Raptor One. Package away, ETA ten seconds, over.”
“Roger that, Raptor One.”
Kane kept the bead trained on the center of the home at the edge of town, the green light bouncing in his sights, but steady enough for the Maverick missile to home in on during its final approach.
Something caught Kane’s eye just at the edge of his sight and he fought the instinct to adjust his position so he could see what it was. He didn’t dare move since the missile was only seconds away. Suddenly a large group of kids raced toward the house and past the guards.
“Raptor One, Sierra Four! Abort! Abort! Abort!” he yelled, shifting the laser target designator to the right and away from the house, but it was too late. To his horror he heard the missile streak in and the horrendous explosion as the house was obliterated.
“Oh God no! Oh God please no!” he cried, shoving his weapon aside as he tried to jump up, but something was holding him down. He struggled against whatever it was, but he couldn’t see it, he could only feel it. He felt the sting of tears on his dry skin as he continued to shout for the mission abort, but it was no use. Even from his position he could hear the cries and wails of those that had survived, and the relatives of those who hadn’t.
And it was his fault.
If it wasn’t for the spider, if it wasn’t for his moment of panic, he could have lased the convoy and had the target eliminated before he even entered the town, but instead, he had been foolish, giving in to a childhood fear, and now countless children were dead because of it.
Because of him.
“Dylan!” came the shouts over the comm still plugged in his ear. Whatever had him was shaking him and he struggled against them, determined to escape their clutches and help those who had survived. “Dylan! Wake up!”
Suddenly he opened his eyes and found himself lying on a couch, someone shaking him by the shoulders that he didn’t at first recognize. He shoved them off, sitting upright as the room suddenly snapped into focus, and where he was, and when he was, flooded back. West, Zorkin and the French woman Adelle were all staring at him, looks of concern on their faces. Another woman, younger, stood in the background. Gorgeous with short dark hair, she stared at him, her expression a mystery, but he could tell he was being judged, and the rapidly fading nightmare told him she hadn’t just seen him at his best.
The nightmare that just wouldn’t go away.
“I’m okay,” he said as the others backed off and he swung himself to a seated position, wiping his sweat drenched forehead with the back of his hand. “Just a dream.”
West sat across from him.
“I have one similar.”
“As do I,” said Zorkin, handing Kane a glass of water.
“And I,” added Adelle. “You can’t have worked in this business as long as we have without something you regret, something you can’t put behind you.”
West reached out and took Adelle’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.
The expression on the young woman’s face was crystal clear this time.
Hands off, old man!
“I assume you’re Adelle’s daughter?” asked Kane, standing.
She nodded.
“Sorry, where are my manners?” exclaimed Adelle as she rushed to her daughter’s side. “She arrived just as you began to have your nightmare.” She stood beside her daughter, the resemblance remarkable, and took her by both of her shoulders. “Gentlemen, I’d like to present to you my daughter, Alexis Bertrand.”
Eyebrows popped in the room, including Kane’s, as suddenly what should have been obvious from the get-go finally became obvious. He glanced at Zorkin who had just noticed it too. The only person who seemed to be oblivious, was West.
Alexis was clearly Alex West’s daughter.
Alexis smiled politely to the room as Adelle introduced everyone, leaving West until last.
“And this is Mr. West.”
West leaned forward and shook Alexis’ hand.
“Call me Alex.”
Alexis nodded, she too apparently unaware of the fact she had just shook her father’s hand. Kane looked at Adelle and she gave him a quick ‘don’t say a word’ look that he nodded slightly to. He glanced at Zorkin who had caught the look and adjusted his shocked expression accordingly.
The room spun as a shave and a haircut knock was tapped out on the door of their hotel room. West started for the door when Kane jumped to his feet, readying his weapon.
“I’ll get it, cover me,” he said as he passed West. He looked through the peephole and smiled, opening the door and waving West off. Two familiar faces entered the room and quickly closed the door behind them.
“Everyone, this is Mr. White and Mr. Green, friends of mine that are here to help.”
Burt Dawson shook Kane’s hand, as did Niner as they entered the now cramped hotel room, dropping large duffel bags near the entrance. Introductions were made and everyone perched wherever they could as Alexis rolled out a map of the complex they were about to hit.
“This is the Charles de Gaulle National Intelligence Archive. Since it is an archive, and not an active office, on any given day there are not a lot of personnel, and those that are there are merely clerks, not trained in self-defense. Security is light from a manned standpoint, with electronic measures being relied upon. Since I have clearance, entry should be easy. We’ll use my pass to gain entry into the building, overcome any opposition with non-lethal force, break into the archive itself, retrieve the microfilm, and depart the way we came in.”
Kane cleared his throat.
“When the break-in is discovered, won’t they track you down in about ten minutes?”
“Absolutely. Which is why when this is over, you will tie me up and beat me so that it looks like I was forced to cooperate. I’ll eventually be cleared, and if not, at worst I’ll be assigned to a desk which is most of my life these days regardless. France is still very chauvinistic when it comes to putting their women in danger.”
“This is true,” agreed Adelle. “Besides, this is a crisis situation. Whatever the consequences, we must get our hands on the microfilm and locate those bombs before they can be used.”
Dawson leaned over the plans.
“They won’t let the four of us in without ID,” he said, pointing at the front gate.
“No. I have an official delivery van with no windows in the back. I’ll tell them it’s just a delivery.”
“And they won’t search?”
“No, they never do unless it’s a heightened security alert.”
“How do we know there isn’t?” asked Niner.
“I would have been contacted.”
“Okay, let’s get this show on the road,” said Kane as he began to gather his gear. “How far is it from here?”
“Ten minutes. It should only take ten minutes inside, ten back. If all goes to plan, we will return here in thirty to forty minutes,” replied Alexis. She turned to her mother. “Be ready to copy and transmit the microfilm as soon as we arrive.”
Adelle nodded, motioning toward a box in the corner.
“We’ll have everything set up for when you return.”
“Good,” said Kane, grabbing the bag with his gear. “Let’s go.”
Adelle gave her daughter a hug and a kiss on the forehead.
“Mom!” protested Adelle quietly. Kane and the others chose to ignore the maternal concern, all just glad their own mothers weren’t there to send them off on a mission in front of “the guys”.
Kane could just imagine the ribbing Niner would give.
Mooney Park, Memphis, Tennessee
Tony Black pushed his daughter Clarice on the swing, her squeals of delight filling his heart with joy as he laughed along with his wife, Sandy, who pushed their other daughter Jamie beside them. The sky was blue, barely a wisp of a cloud overhead, the sun shining down on them just enough to be
warm, but not hot.
It’s a perfect day in every way.
Tony couldn’t remember the last time they had all been able to get to the park on a weekday. The kids were off for some teacher development day and he had wisely booked the day off well in advance. Sandy had lost her job three years ago and after two years of searching unsuccessfully for something in her field, they had agreed to make some adjustments to their lifestyle, downsizing and dropping to one used car so they could live off just his salary.
Sandy had become a stay-at-home mom.
And she loved it.
At least that’s what she told him. He hoped she did, and judging by the smile on her face, he was certain she did—at least at this moment.
“How about we get something to eat?” she suggested, and the cries of agreement from the little ones had the gentle pushes from mom and dad halted, the kids quickly slowing down as their feet were shoved into the ground. Seconds later Sandy had a blanket spread out over the grass, underneath a large tree, the type of which he had no clue except that it had long leaves and was shady—weeping willow?—and a perfect location to look out over the rolling park and the city surrounding it.
“This was a great idea,” he said as he took a sip from his Dr. Pepper. Sandy grinned and handed him a paper plate loaded with fried chicken, potato salad and coleslaw. KFC flashed through his mind as he stared at the plate, but he knew better. Sandy had rediscovered her love of cooking and everything they ate now was homemade, unless they treated themselves to an evening out on the town.
And the Friday night pizza night with the kids; pizza just had to be ordered in and served out of a box to be good.
He took a bite of a chicken leg and moaned as he chewed.
“This is so good, hon,” he said, covering his still full mouth. “You’re the best!”
She flashed a smile as she wiped Jamie’s mouth of some mayonnaise. He winked at her then returned his attention to his plate, shoveling a mouthful of coleslaw into his pie hole, suddenly wondering if there was pie for desert. As he chewed, he looked at the view, thanking the Lord they were blessed to live in a smaller city rather than some monster that could only dream of a setting like this. He slowly turned his head from shoulder to shoulder, scanning the horizon, and about the only eyesore he could spot was the rail yards, and even that didn’t seem so bad from here.
Suddenly there was a brilliant flash of light from the rail yards. Jamie cried out, as if in pain, her hands letting go of her plate as she covered her eyes. He looked to his left where the flash had come from and gasped as he saw a massive fireball erupting into the air, clawing its way toward the sky. The ground began to rumble, Jamie continued to cry, saying something about her eyes, and Clarice simply whimpered as Sandy tried to soothe them both.
Tony pushed himself to his knees, facing the blast when he noticed the bottom portion was expanding rapidly and it was then that he realized it was not only expanding outward to the left and right of his field of vision, but toward them as well.
Oh my God!
As the blast wave raced forward, across the park, engulfing everything in its path, screams began to break out all around them. He turned to Sandy and saw the horror on her face as she too realized what was happening. He jumped for the kids, grabbing them and pulling them toward him as he hit the ground, his back to the explosion, his torso a human shield for his children, Sandy grabbing onto him, their eyes meeting, his heart breaking as he saw hers fill with tears, the rapidly growing mushroom cloud behind him reflected in the glassiness.
“I love you!” he yelled over the roar, but before she could reply, he felt a blast of wind hit them. He squeezed his eyes shut as the kids screamed, then he cried out in excruciating pain as the heat hit him, his clothes bursting into flame, the skin of his back instantly melting, the intense pain enveloping him, the screams of fear from his family turning into those of pain, as his last thoughts were of how he had failed to protect them, of how sorry he was he hadn’t spent more days like this with them, and of how he prayed there was a Heaven where he would see them all again, soon, because there was no way he wanted to live another moment.
And the screams stopped, the wind calmed, the heat dissipated, and the skies cleared, leaving nothing but a mushroom cloud in the air, a charred park, and a dark carbon outline of what was once a loving family in its final embrace.
Charles de Gaulle National Intelligence Archive, Longjumeau, France
Kane sat with his back against the front of the rear compartment of the delivery van, Dawson against the side panel to his right, Niner to the left. By Kane’s watch they were only a few minutes from the front gate. Assuming Alexis was right and they wouldn’t be searched, gaining initial entry should be a cakewalk. But from his experience, things never went entirely to plan, and he had the impression that this woman, though perhaps older than him by a few years, didn’t have much experience in field ops.
“So, what do you think?” asked Dawson as he inspected his weapon and Taser. “Can we trust her?”
Kane nodded.
“I think we can trust her to not betray us. I’m not so sure we can trust her to be correct in her assumptions that this will be a clean in and out. If the French get wind of what’s happening with Crimson Rush, they’re liable to increase security countrywide, especially where the microfilm is being stored.”
“That assumes they even know about the microfilm,” said Niner as he holstered his Glock. “Maybe even they’ve forgotten about it.”
Kane shrugged.
“Possibly, but I wouldn’t count on it. That’s prime blackmail material for any type of negotiations with the Russians. I doubt they’ve forgotten about it.”
“It makes me wonder if it’s even here,” said Dawson. “Wouldn’t they hide it away somewhere special if it’s that important?”
Kane shifted, trying to get comfortable on the hard metal floor of the van.
“They don’t need to. Nobody knows about it outside of probably a handful of people, most of them retired. There’s probably a note when a new president gets briefed referring to it, and that’s about it. Time and arrogance would have them archive it just like anything else from that era.”
Three knocks against the panel separating the driver compartment and the rear indicated they were approaching the gate. All three men became quiet, each pulling their Taser in the event something did go wrong.
The vehicle made a turn to the right then slowed, eventually coming to a stop. Muffled voices could be heard through the panel, then the vehicle began to roll forward again. If the map was correct, they had only a few hundred feet to go before they would pull into the shipping area. It was 11pm with only a skeleton crew expected to be on site.
The van came to a stop and the engine shut off. The panel between the cabin and the rear slid open.
“From this point on I am your prisoner. Remember there are cameras everywhere.”
Kane pointed his gun at Alexis through the panel.
“Understood,” he said with a wink as they all raised their balaclavas.
Dawson and Niner exited the van through the rear doors and rounded to the front then Kane joined them, Dawson now covering Alexis with his weapon as she climbed out.
“Which way?” asked Kane, more for the benefit of the cameras, flicking his weapon at her.
Alexis lead them to a nearby door, swiping her pass and pulling it open. They stepped inside and found a surprised security guard sitting behind a desk. Kane strode forward, Taser at his side, slightly behind him, and as the guard stood up, his jaw dropped when Kane whipped the Taser into sight and squeezed, the probe bursting from the weapon and embedding itself in the man’s chest, the 50,000 volts surging into his body, incapacitating him instantly.
Niner quickly zip tied the man’s hands and feet, then taped his mouth shut as the rest continued forward, Alexis still playing the prisoner. Two flights of stairs, three security doors and no personnel in the hallways, and they were at the main compute
r lab where archival requests were processed by clerks working a grueling thirty-five hour work week, socialism run amok in the old republic.
“There will probably be one or two clerks beyond this door,” whispered Alexis, her head down.
Dawson held his weapon to her head for show, saying, “Open it!”
Alexis swiped her pass. Niner yanked open the door and Kane rushed in, sweeping the room from right to left, firing his Taser on the first target he found, a young man sitting at his desk playing World of Warcraft on taxpayer time. He heard the snap then sizzle of Niner’s Taser taking out the next target to his left and the playacted protests of Alexis as Dawson shoved her in the room.
Kane checked the rest of the room after ejecting the probe from the Taser while Niner bound the two analysts. Kane stepped over to his target’s computer and with a few keystrokes had sold all of his avatar’s possessions for one gold coin and typed an apology to the taxpayers as other logged in users cheered and jeered.
Niner grinned at him as he yanked the final zip tie tight, Alexis already at a terminal logging in and executing the search. Dawson kept his weapon on her for show as Kane and Niner watched the doors at either end of the room.
“Got it!” announced Alexis. “I’ve sent the retrieval request. It should be ready when we get down there.”
Kane didn’t bother asking what she meant, instead checking the door then opening it a sliver, looking for any wandering security as she continued to type.
None.
“I’ve killed the cameras. Let’s go.”
Alexis led the way at gunpoint and minutes later they entered a massive warehouse with shelves towering to the ceiling in neat rows for as far as the eye could see. Rails ran up and down each row with machines, now idle, resting at the head of each aisle, awaiting instructions. In the distance the sound of one of the machines could be heard, then a conveyer belt roared to life. Alexis pointed to the far end.
Cold Warriors (A Special Agent Dylan Kane Thriller, Book #3) Page 17