Malone suppressed a grin as he worked deeper into the facility. He’d split his people up just as he knew Matt intended. In an engagement with soldiers this would be considered ill advised. These were Hunters, though, and whenever one made contact he could vector the rest in on that location. He’d lost Wallace as indicated by his lack of response to Malone’s attempts to contact him. He knew where Wallace had been when he’d last had contact and that allowed him to narrow down the location of the traitor and the gene trash. He’d vectored his people there from different approaches. The facility was huge and there were many possible escape routes. He had Hunters covering them and slowly closing the noose. He’d let his Hunters whittle them down then he’d take out the boy. Damn, there he was again, thinking of him in those terms. This one was dangerous, he had to remember that. His contempt for gene trash could hurt him this time. Still, no matter how much he tried to convince himself of that fact, he could feel nothing but contempt for the boy.
Angel Halsey-Smythe had found them. She’d even done it without their knowing they’d been discovered. She was supposed to report in, but the way the smallest of them was guarding the rear, she figured she’d take that one out quickly then call in. Smiling her beatific smile, looking like the angel she’d been named for, she moved in.
Kit was rear guard. Matt breaking trail, Abbey guarding the director, and Ralph ahead of her, she watched everyone’s back. She was never sure exactly what tipped her off. Some slight sound, a change in air pressure perhaps. She only knew that she ducked barely in time to avoid the weighted line that would have wrapped around her throat and cut her head off in an instant. Instead, it carried past and sliced cleanly through the computer screen on the desk to her right.
Spinning, she saw the small blonde woman. She was barely an inch taller than Kit herself and looked preposterously young. Abbey had been able to see the composition of Malone’s team since she had been a de facto member of the team. Kit had seen the files and knew she faced Angel Halsey-Smythe.
“So, torturer, you thought you’d take me out sneaky huh? Well, I see you now and you’ll have to earn it the hard way. Let’s find out who’s better, shall we?”
This was not how this was supposed to go. The small dark haired woman should have been easy prey. Angel would take her head and then call for help with the rest. The opportunity had been too good. Somehow she’d missed, and now this woman who should have been running in a panic actually seemed eager to face her. Well, the woman must have a death wish. In this case Angel would live up to her name and be the bitch’s own personal angel of death.
She led with a knife hand to the throat that somehow missed as she was staggered by a hammer fist to the back of the head. Dropping low, she swept for the other woman’s legs, only to be sent sprawling across the room by a spinning back fist to her jaw as the smaller dark haired woman stepped adroitly over her leg sweep while delivering the blow.
Back on her feet in a flash, she launched herself at her opponent, hands claw-like as she went for the face of her enemy. Suddenly, a hard blow to the base of her skull sent her to her knees.
For the first time she faced the idea that she might lose. No, not might, would. The other woman was too good. Angel had been hurt, taking several hard blows, and had yet to land a single blow in return. She had been so sure she hadn’t even thought to use her sidearm. Drawing it now she brought it into line with her foe…who was not there. Angel Halsey-Smythe who had so loved to cut others to pieces during an interrogation, wrecking their bodies as she slowly peeled their minds, found herself choking and drowning in her own blood as Kit’s fist smashed her larynx. It took only moments for the light to fade.
“Kit”, Ralph said from behind her, “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine Ralph”, she said, noticing that he held his pistol in a steady hand and was not taking his eyes off the Hunter.
“I never had a clean shot….”
“I know, Ralph, but I also know you were ready to take it if you did. Thank you, Ralph. Let’s move on,” she said as Matt and Abbey rounded the corner, coming to her aid. It had all happened in less time than it took her to tell them of it.
Malone cursed silently. He’d split up his team trying to locate the gene trash quickly. It appeared he was losing troops. He was now pretty certain he had their location. “Everyone move in on the southeast section. Outside guard teams watch for them making exit and report. Do not attempt to detain them. The BGP agents will make the apprehension. Concentrate on combat operations. Firefighting teams, taking down the gene trash takes precedence over fighting the fire. Do your best, but stay out of my people’s way.”
53
August 18, 2080
Northbrook Il, North American Territory
Dex, Hank, Calvin, and some unexpected help were engaged in far heavier combat than planned. The addition of the Hunters changed the equation considerably. Local guards, no matter how good, were security guards not soldiers. Of course, the original plan had called for three people to cause a diversion and their numbers were just a bit inflated from that number.
One of the biggest problems they faced was the sniper. Dex knew Rachel Depardieu from her files. Six feet tall, statuesque with ice-blue eyes, the woman was twice as dangerous as she was beautiful. She was picking off men left and right. Most decent combat troops had learned centuries ago not to obviously identify officers on the battle field. The Sons of Liberty and the Gurkhas were the best Dex had ever seen, but whenever a man was seen giving orders he died. He died from more than a mile away, but he died.
“Cal,” ordered Dex, “find that sniper and shut her down! Take two Gurkahs as backup.”
With the giving of the order Dex put the sniper from his mind. He knew Calvin would take her out or die in the attempt.
“All right people, let’s make ‘em bleed, but keep the contact light. We’re outta here soon so do not get in too deep. Gurkhas, hit the southern entrance, Sons, you’ve got the east. Hank, you and I are taking on some Hunters. You up for it, Tough Guy?”
“Show me the way, Big Man,” Hank said responding to the nickname Dex had given him years ago with the one he’d bestowed in return. Neither was exactly inspired, but they still made Hank smile. He’d never admit it out loud, but his team was family and he loved them like no others.
Both Dex and Hank had noted the Hunter’s arrival and tracked them throughout the battle. It was time to hunt the Hunters.
It didn’t take long for Dex to find Kournikov. The man was immense. Dex was a big man, in fact he’d always been the biggest man he knew, but Kournikov was like some kind of creature out of myth. Just an inch shy of 7 feet tall, he was muscled like no one Dex had ever seen. His whole life he’d relied on his strength. He’d known without a doubt that he was the strongest man in all of New Zealand. In all of the NZMC no one approached his strength. Others might be better in a fight, vanishingly few of those, but they existed, but no one was ever stronger.
When Kournikov put both hands out at shoulder height in an invitation to clinch and see who could throw who Dex was tempted to test his strength. Then he remembered one of his favorite sci-fi books as a child. The bodyguard who wore little dart guns on his hand and was the strongest man around. That fictional character had faced a similar situation and as tempted as Dex was, he knew what the ultimate goal was. Extending his hands out as if to come to grips with the giant, he instead kicked as hard as he could to the sternum of his opponent.
The blow caught Kornikov completely off guard and sent him flying. Any other man would have had his rib cage collapsed by that blow. The Hunter had such a massively muscled chest that his ribs were never in danger. Springing back to his feet with a grin he moved forward to face the first man he’d ever met who might offer a challenge.
Dex watched his opponent spring back to his feet and knew he was in trouble. That blow would have put Hank down for the count and he’d never known anyone tougher than Hank. Ducking a ponderous fist aimed at his head Dex punched t
o the stomach. His hand hurt like he’d punched a brick wall but he knew it was not broken. He followed up with three more quick blows to the mid section.
His vision went white as Kornikov landed a huge fist to left side of his head. Staggering, he barely remained standing as the giant delivered a spinning back kick. Ducking the foot aimed at his temple, Dex dropped to a crouch and punched as hard as he could right between the legs as thick as tree trunks. He missed his target. Like most men Kornikov was adept at turning a hip to protect that particular part of his anatomy. Still, the blow was a solid one, delivered to the abductor muscle, and Kournikov was limping noticeably when Dex leaped back to his feet. He discovered that while he didn’t have almost 100 steps in a martial dance like the fictional character he’d read about so long ago, just like that man, he did have more moves than his opponent. He knew the walking pile of muscle and testosterone before him was not going down easy or soon, but going down he was. Dex settled in to do the work required to accomplish that end.
Hank grinned past the split lip and missing teeth as he faced Cabelosi. He’d read all about this guy. Malone’s amphibious specialist who could hold his breath for more than thirteen minutes. Hank knew he’d not be choking this guy out and that suited him just fine. He was a brawler. He’d take your best shot and keep coming. He knew he wasn’t like the others. They were as tough as anyone he’d ever known but inside they were soft. They cared. Hank figured the world contained three kinds, sheep, sheep dogs and wolves. Despite Matt having named the team the Wolfpack they were more like sheep dogs, protecting the sheep. Hank was different, he was truly the wolf. More accurately, he was a wolverine. He grinned as he considered the comic book character. He had meant the animal not the super hero, but he had a bit in common with that guy too. He was on the team but not always a comfortable fit. He loved them and would die for them, but he didn’t do the warm emotional stuff that families do. Hank figured he was just a bit more primal than that. See a threat, squash it.
Cabelosi was not going down easy, but that suited Hank just fine. The ones that were easy didn’t teach you anything. Make me work for it and make me better. Try to take my life and give up your right to breathe community oxygen. Matt and the others saw life as sacred, Hank figured we were all breathing meat sacks, until we were just meat.
Stepping in, he took another shot to the face and felt another tooth lose the battle to stay in his gums. Swinging from his hips, he landed a blow to the corner of the jaw and saw Cabelosi’s face distort as the jaw came unhinged.
A quick left should have ended it, but it appeared that the Hunter was made of sterner stuff. He blocked the left and shot a blow to Hank’s midsection that cracked at least three ribs. Spitting the tooth to the floor he said, “Come on Punk, show me something. My grandmam hit harder than that.”
Cabelosi came in, head low to protect his broken jaw, ready to end it. Hank let him come. He took three quick shots to the body and slipped past the Hunter, and snaking an arm around the neck, he pulled his shoulder tight to the back of Cabelosi’s neck and kicked out, causing both bodies to fall to the ground. Cabelosi’s head against Hank’s shoulder, when both bodies were laid out lengthwise along the floor the Hunter’s neck broke with an audible crack.
Missing most of his teeth and with three broken ribs, Hank moved on in search of another Hunter to test himself against.
Prince Kalbhoj led his select group of armsmen to the west gate. This was the gate his king was supposed to be exiting with his group. Due to the efforts of the Sons of Liberty, and his own Gurkhas, the guard force here was limited. They were too professional to leave it unguarded, but the men on duty would have to be more than human, genetically modified or otherwise, to ignore the fighting going on just around the corner.
Tall for one of his people, Kalbhoj stood 5’9” and weighed in at a muscular yet wiry 165. He had a ready smile that, along with his dark complexion and even features, made him quite the hit with the ladies. He was not sure why he’d pushed for the declaration of fealty to Matthew Connor, but he did know that it felt right. Matt had seemed larger than life in the downloads he’d read. There was something noble about his fight alone and with Angus. Standing up to the BGP and fighting side by side with the soldier turned rebel made him a man of legend. He knew he’d made the right choice and that the Gurkhas would fight and die for Matt. He’d insisted that Dex let Matt know they were coming, but Dex had not mentioned the vow Kalbhoj had sworn for all the Gurkha people.
The guards at the gate fell swiftly and silently to the flashing kukris of Kalbhoj’s team. Swiftly they moved into the facility in search of their liege lord.
Matt and his team worked their way through the facility. Dex’s message about the Gurkhas’ inbound help was disturbing. He did not want to risk any more people in this trap. Matt was unsure why the Gurkha prince felt that he had to get inside and protect Matt, but whatever helped his mission was a good thing. He once again considered how lucky they were that PDTs allowed for secure communication between units. He knew about the incoming team and Malone did not.
Pausing, he picked up a telephone extension and enabled the PA system.
“Malone. You’ve lost everyone you’ve sent at me. Keep sending them and keep losing them. I’m sure an animal like you doesn’t care about losing people, but it’s wasteful. Let’s end this. You took out Angus, but he hurt you. He was better than you expected, a lot better. I’m better than he was, and I don’t think you can beat me.
“Meet me man to man and let’s settle this. Or keep sending your people to die. You know as well as I do that in the end it will be you and me. I know you are just arrogant enough to think you can take me, so let’s do it. Your people and mine can watch and see who wins. If I win we walk, if you win we don’t.”
Hanging up the phone, Matt turned to Kit. “Take the others and get out of here. Meet up with the Gurkhas and get out. Grab Dex and the rest of the team and get home.”
Abbey stepped forward. “Matt, I’m not leaving you. I’m your wife, your partner, and I’m in this as deep as you are. If you do this I’ll be at your side.”
Acknowledging that he would not change her mind he said, “Take Ralph and the director and go.”
Not waiting for Kitara to speak up, Ralph blurted, “No way. Maybe you can order Kit, but not me, and if you do this I’ll be there. The device is gone, all traces of it are gone.” Swallowing and deciding to do the hard thing, he pressed on. “The director here is the only source to rebuild. If you lose he will not live to go back to them, I’ll see to it,” he said with his pistol gripped white-knuckled in his fist.
Before Kit could add her voice in support the PA came to life with Malone’s reply. “I’ll be waiting just outside the south entrance. That way, if by some miracle you beat me, you’ll be home free. When you die however, know that I’ll take your bitch and all your friends and kill them slowly and painfully.”
“Matt,” said Kit, “you know he’ll have his people ready to take us out even if you win, right?”
“Yes, I do, which is why I still say you all should make a break for it. If you choose to stick it out remember one thing before all others. The director here can not fall in to their hands again.”
“You can’t just kill me in cold blood!” stammered the director.
“How many do you think died when you tested your device? How many crashed cars or drowned in pools or died in any one of a dozen other ways? If you think for one minute that I’ll hesitate to kill you to prevent that horror from coming back into this world you are sorely mistaken.”
“My Lord!” exclaimed Prince Kalbhoj, arriving at that moment, “My men and I are at your service. We have been updated by Lieutenant Dexter Maxwell as to the status of the director. I will assume responsibility for dispatching him should that prove necessary. With your permission, of course.”
Matt had been filled in on the prince’s imminent arrival, which is why he’d been allowed to approach. He was a bit put off at the ‘M
y Lord’ but assumed it was some Gurkha form of address.
“All right, Prince Kalbhoj…is it all right with you if I call you Kal? No, Calvin is Cal, how about PK?”
“Whatever My Lord desires.”
“PK it is. PK, you and your men are now responsible for the director. He is to make it out alive if possible, but under no circumstances is he to fall into BGP hands again. Understood?”
“It shall be as you command, My Lord.”
“Kit, you are still Ralph’s bodyguard. If he doesn’t make it, neither do we. Understand?”
There was no hesitation or even a hint of disagreement in her voice as she responded, “You got it Boss, protect the big brain here. ”No one noticed the slight smile or the muttered “Big brain and cute, too.”
“Okay gang, we’re gonna go meet Malone. I’m sure he’ll have help and I’m sure he will double cross us at some point, but his ego will not allow him to pass up a one-on-one with me.
“Abbey and Kit are the only others here who stand a chance one-on-one with a Hunter. PK, you and your people...”
“They, as am I, are your people, my Lord.” Not having time to explore that statement, Matt let it slide.
“Okay. PK, you and the rest of the Gurkhas are warriors. I won’t tell you not to join the fight, but I will remind you where your responsibility lies. First, ensure the director does not go back to the BGP, and I’ll add a second. Ralph is to get out of here alive. Primary responsibility remains with Kit, but you are to back her up.”
Kit could not explain, even to herself, the sense of relief she’d felt when Matt kept her in her role as Ralph’s guardian. The scientist was there, gun in hand, ready to protect her as she’d fought Halsey-Smythe. He was the one who’d been needed for his brain on this mission. He was a non-combatant. Her job was to protect him, but there he was ready to protect her. She wasn’t sure what she thought of him, but she knew that he was more than the wimpy, waste of a human being she’d first thought.
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