by S. T. Boston
“We have as many as six targets in there,” Namtar explained, not taking his eyes from the building. “It's not only possible, but highly likely, that the two Arkkadians have tried to make contact with the Earth-Humans, and most certainly Oriyanna.”
“Understood, sir,” said Croaker.
“They can be killed if necessary, but try to take the girl alive. I have special plans for her.” His lips spread into a thin grin as brief snippets of his thoughts from the ferry flooded back. “We can use her, so only deploy lethal force as a last resort. The others need to stay alive.” Not waiting for a response, he pushed the boot closed and using the overgrown hedge as cover, crossed the road and trod carefully up the shingle drive. At the door, he paused, flashing Peltz and Croaker a brief nod before he tried the handle. It was unlocked.
* * *
Sam was in a deep and restful sleep, but no matter how deeply he slept, he had the uncanny ability of keeping one ear alert, no doubt honed from years of practice. The part of his psyche which was constantly on guard heard the front door latch turn and in an instant, his eyes snapped open. At first, he remained motionless, completely awake and alert. From the bathroom, he could hear splashing water. Lucie obviously got the boiler working, he thought, his ears scoping deeper into the property and zoning out the aquatic noise. Then he heard it: footsteps in the lounge, two— no, three pairs. In an instant, he dismissed the chances of it being Adam and Oriyanna; a quick glance at his trusty G-Shock watch confirmed they'd only been gone for three hours, an impossibly short time to do the round trip. Rolling over, careful not to let the aged bedsprings creak he slid to the floor, reaching up for the either the Glock or the Beretta that he'd left on the nightstand. Getting to his feet he mentally followed the direction of the quiet footsteps; in the kitchen, then the hall. Lucie was in the bathroom and his first instinct was to rush to her, warn her – but he had the element of surprise on his side, and once that was gone, it was gone for good.
The yellowing oak bedroom door was half closed, forming a natural V shape between the jamb and the side of a darkly stained antique wardrobe. Staying clear of the door's aperture, he secreted his body in the small space and peered through the thin crack between the frame and the door. The sight of Namtar made his blood run cold, and behind him were two other males Sam didn't recognise. They were both dressed in combat style clothing, black cargos, black tees with tac-vests over the top. The guy behind Namtar had a holstered Taser and a very lethal knife. His gun – Sam couldn't distinguish the make and model – was in his hand, held low and ready. He searched for the other one – Asag – but he was nowhere to be seen. Sam hoped he'd made a corpse of him in France, but there was always the possibility he was waiting outside, intending to scoop up any potential escapees fleeing the building.
His heart racing, he watched Namtar pause by the open bathroom door, firing a meaningful look at his two colleagues before he went in. Why hasn't Lucie seen them? he wondered. Half of him wanted to spring to her aid, but three against one wasn't good odds. He could easily kill one of the intruders, but the other two would be on to him before he could switch his aim. The tactically trained part of his mind won the battle, and he decided it was better to stay hidden and wait for the right opportunity to present itself. The teams which had been sent to get them had all wanted to take them alive, so he hoped their plan wasn't to kill his wife on sight. A fraction of a second after Namtar went through the bathroom door Sam heard a scream of terror which sent a chill through his body. Gritting his teeth, forcing himself to stay hidden, he watched as Lucie's naked body was heaved through the door and into the hall.
“Where are the others?” Namtar bellowed, his large hand clutching Lucie's wet brown hair and forcing her head back at an unnatural angle. Sam flicked his eyes to the guy without the Taser; his eyes were taking in every detail of Lucie's naked body, and a small grin of satisfaction was etched on his features. Sam felt his blood begin to boil.
“I'm alone,” Lucie said in a shaky voice.
Good girl, Sam thought as he ran options through in his head.
“I don't believe that for a second. Peltz, search the house,” Namtar demanded.
“My pleasure,” the Taser-toting guy said, a thick Eastern-European accent lacing his words. Holding the gun low, Sam watched the guy throw the spare bedroom door open, bringing the gun up. “Clear,” the guy said when he reappeared.
The cottage was too damn small, Sam fretted. They'd checked the kitchen, bathroom, lounge and second bedroom, there was only the main bedroom left and Peltz was headed Sam's way. In two long strides Peltz covered the distance, his body eclipsing Sam's view. When he entered, Sam slid the Glock into the back of his trousers and turned to face the room's interior. He had a clear view of the perpetrator, his back facing him, sweeping left and right with the gun tracing an almost perfect arc through the air. Wasting no time, Sam sprung from his hiding place and slammed his open palm over the guy's mouth; reaching around his head with his other hand and working in opposite direction, he snapped his neck swiftly, then dragged the body out of the way. The man had attempted to cry out, but before he had the opportunity, he was dead. The weighty body twitched once in Sam's grip before he lay the body quietly on the faded red carpet.
Pressing his body into the V section between the door and the wardrobe he waited, trying desperately to figure out his next move.
Namtar spoke. “If you kill another one of my men, Mr. Becker, I'll snap your wife's neck like a twig! While I am under orders to take you all alive, you're the main prize. You have ten seconds to decide. Either turn yourself over without a fight, or I'll kill her, and we take you anyway. Ten seconds, Mr. Becker. Your time starts now.”
Chapter 26
The TV was on, and the sound was down. The screen switched between shots of American warships cutting through a broiling, angry Pacific Ocean and a brightly lit CNN News Room somewhere in Washington. Taulass changed the channel to the BBC Word News who were showing almost identical footage taken from a variety of angles. Half watching the footage and half lost in thoughts regarding what his next move should be, he stared at a point past the screen, his eyes unfocused. The heavy drapes were closed and blocking out the small amount of natural light supplied by the dull grey day outside.
He had no phone with him, and no idea if Oriyanna had hers. Even if she did, he couldn't remember the eleven-digit number. He'd have to rely solely on the chance of her coming to the safe house. It had been around twelve hours since the attack. Even if she'd had to walk the distance, which he doubted because their hire car was missing, she'd have been here by now.
Feeling the first rumbles of hunger stirring in his belly, he blinked the world back into focus and went through to the kitchen, turning on the LED lights. The blind was down, the window obscured, just as every window in the house was, hiding the interior from any prying eyes. In the cupboard was a variety of dehydrated ration pack-style meals that they'd stocked the place with months ago. Enough dry, tasteless and unexciting food to feed the four of them for two weeks, without having to break cover. In the adjoining cupboard were a number of five litre water bottles and various Earth fruit flavoured liquids which made it a little more interesting to drink; raspberry was his favourite.
As he cast his gaze over the unappetising options, the sound of two car doors slamming outside drew his attention. Rushing through to the lounge, he grabbed up his gun and waited between the lounge and the hall, his back pressed into the wooden door frame. He knew he was overly jittery and bordering on paranoia; he knew the car doors probably belonged to a neighbour's car and were nothing to do with him. Nonetheless he was ready, poised and aiming the gun at the black Georgian-style door. As he heard the rapid sound of feet on the concrete path outside, heading his way, he took up a little of the trigger pressure and prepared to shoot.
* * *
The sixteen-mile drive across London had taken them forty minutes; electrical repair works on several of the roads saw them having to t
ake a number of frustrating detours. The city was a bizarre patchwork of new and old. The new took the form of shiny fresh shops and buildings, signs of the government's Fresh Start initiative beginning to make a real difference. But there was no hiding the masses of boarded up buildings, many with black finger-like tendrils of discoloration visible behind the metal shutters bolted to their masonry, signs of fires started by looters during the seven days of hell which had taken over a billion lives. In those seven days, a fire had raged across the city, one that almost rivalled the one started at a certain bakery shop in Pudding Lane in the seventeenth century.
As Adam pulled up, the drizzle started to develop into a heavy rain, which splashed heavily in the numerous puddles which littered the quiet street, rippling their dark surfaces and making them swell.
“This is the place, then?” he asked, looking at the Georgian style detached home. “Do you think he's there?”
“The safe had been opened, not forced, and the return tab is missing. He must be here. Unless he thought I'd been killed and has already used it to call the ship and return home.”
“He'd do that?”
“No – I don't think so, but that is the worst-case scenario. We need that ship, Adam.”
“Only one way to tell,” he replied. Opening the car door, plump drops of rain splattered on his arm. He shivered as his shirt started soak up the water, quickly soaking the already damp material. Adam cursed his lack of jacket or appropriate clothing. Oriyanna led him up the concrete path, which was lined with a miniature picket fence. It looked as if it had been whipped from some model village. At the glossy black door she turned her attention to a key-safe affixed to the buff brickwork just inside the porch. Adam squeezed into the narrow space, sheltering from the rain.
“Two, four, one, one, three,” she muttered to herself, spinning the small metal wheels on the safe. She turned her attention to Adam as the safe's door clicked open. The key was inside, but that didn't mean a thing. If the team were split and arrived at the house separately, the key was to be returned to the safe as soon as the door was opened. Her hands trembled as she slotted the brass key into the lock and turned it.
* * *
Taulass heard the key safe being opened and a little of his paranoia subsided, replaced by hope. All the same, he kept the gun trained on the door, although he did release the pressure off the trigger. As the door swung open, Oriyanna's slender frame was silhouetted in the dim light from the world outside his hideaway.
“T!” he heard her cry, relief in her voice. “Put that gun down before you shoot someone.” She paced over to him as he lowered the weapon and embraced him. “I thought you were dead, I'm so sorry!”
“To be honest I thought I was dead, too,” he admitted, holding her at arm's length, a broad smile on his face. He turned his attention to the male she'd brought with her. “Adam Fisher,” he smiled warmly, having met Adam briefly during his short stay on Arkkadia. “I'd hoped Oriyanna had gone after you when we got attacked.” He looked down at Oriyanna again. “Why did you come back to London?”
“The return tab – I had no idea you were alive until I saw the safe was open. “Please tell me you have it?”
He gave her a knowing grin. “It's safe. Now, please tell me you know what's going on?”
“I do,” Oriyanna replied, walking past him and into the lounge. She frowned at the darkened interior and the drawn curtains. Her attention turned to the TV, which was still running a story which carried the on-screen headline, 'Crisis in the Pacific'. She turned her attention back to Taulass and said, “That,” pointing to the television.
“They are behind this?” Taulass replied, sounding confused. “Then there must be far more Earth-Breed still in deep cover than we estimated.”
“No – they're not behind it, they are going to use it. Those ships are just a show of strength, the USA and Russia flexing their muscles, but currently, they are only good for close quarters combat. It's the nuclear cargo, as well as all the weapons waiting in silos and bunkers all over the planet that they intend to use, just as soon as the launch and defence systems come back online.”
“But that's going to be,” Taulass checked the time on the TV screen, “in less than twenty-four hours, according to the news reports.”
Oriyanna nodded, a grim expression on her face. She glanced anxiously from Taulass to Adam. “Possibly sooner, it just depends on who manages to boot up their launch system first. I know it's a race to be the first to the table, those ships prove that.”
Adam checked his watch. They'd been gone over three and a half hours, but it was pointless texting either Sam or Lucie back in Wiltshire to inform them of the delay. Alton Barnes had always been in a dead spot for cell service, even before the EMP. “We need to get moving,” he said urgently, “we've been in London much longer than we estimated.” He glanced at the return tab which Taulass had produced from his pocket. “I guess we don't have to worry about driving back.” He'd seen such devices during his time on their home planet.
Oriyanna shook her head., “We can't use it, not yet.”
“Why?” Adam protested. “Correct me if I'm wrong here, but a spacecraft is going to be a lot faster than my knackered old Mazda.”
“Oriyanna is right,” Taulass cut in, “we can't call the craft, not yet. Arkus 2 has her transponders deactivated, which is why it was impossible for us to locate her. We'd have to be within ten miles to detect the craft, maybe closer. On radar, she is like a ghost, invisible. The Niribus has her transponders on, and as soon as she is activated her systems will reveal to Arkus 2 that she is there.”
“And?” sighed Adam, raising his eyebrows. “We can just jump on board, be in Peru in seconds and blast them out of the desert. Simple!”
Oriyanna placed a hand on his shoulder and smiled at the naivety of his comment. Trying her hardest not to sound condescending, she said, “You saw that ship in the desert, how big it was?” Adam nodded, already feeling foolish for his optimism and for even one second thinking it was going to be an easy ride. “Our craft, Niribus, is a planetary shuttle craft, like the one you came home on. It holds a maximum of twenty crew and was designed to spend no longer than three weeks in space with a full complement of personnel. She is fitted with defensive weaponry, but it's only really intended for blasting asteroids and the like.”
“So, what you're saying is,” Adam began, sounding disappointed, “that if we try to shoot at the Arkus 2, it'll be like standing on the dock and firing a handgun at a battle ship.”
“Pretty much,” Taulass agreed regretfully.
“So, what use is the craft, if we can't use it to get there?”
“There might be another way,” Taulass said, his eyes narrowing in thought. “But I need to work on it. As an absolute last resort, we can use the craft to get you and your family off planet before the fireworks start.”
“That's a last resort I'm not planning on getting to,” Adam said, not feeling the slightest relief that he, Lucie and Sam would be safe. “Before we hit the road,” he continued, “I don't suppose you guys have any spare clothing here?” He pointed to his shirt which was untucked, creased and resembled something stolen from a vagabond, and his dress trousers weren't faring much better.
“Sure, upstairs in the bedroom at the end of the hall there is a wardrobe full of stuff, just grab what you need,” Taulass offered.
“I'll just go and change,” Adam said, wishing he had time to grab a shower. He paused in the doorway, turning to Taulass. “I'm out of my depth here – if you say we can't use that craft to get us there I trust you. Just tell me you have some other plan cooking in that head of yours.”
“As I said, I have an idea, but it will take some work.”
It wasn't the answer Adam was hoping for, but it was better than nothing. He hurried upstairs and into a large double room decorated in a neutral magnolia. The bed was covered with a plastic sheet to keep dust at bay. In the modern white wardrobe he found a pair of Rab Stretch walking tr
ousers, a grey and blue Toggi polo shirt and a Rab fleece, which matched the trousers. There were numerous examples of the same pieces of clothing in a range of sizes, all still with the labels on. The team had obviously purchased a job lot from the local outdoor pursuits store. In the bottom of the wardrobe he found a range of Salomon walking shoes. The closest match was a half size too big, but with the laces secured they felt like a pair of comfortable slippers compared to his dress shoes, which had seen better days. Leaving his chinos and shirt in a neatly-folded pile at the end of the bed, he headed downstairs feeling better thanks to the clean clothing. Oriyanna had also changed, and it seemed her wardrobe consisted of similar items to what she'd already been wearing. She sported another pair of leggings, identical to the ones she'd changed out of, and a blue tee-shirt worn beneath a zip-up, lightweight black Marmot jacket. On her feet she wore nondescript flat-soled boots which covered the bottoms of her leggings and reached part way up her calves. The clothing hugged her figure amazingly, considering it was designed to be practical and hardwearing.
“Not much of a wardrobe, then,” smiled Adam.
“It's light and functional,” she replied matter-of-factly.
“If we get out of this alive, remind me to take you shopping,” he grinned at her. “I don't think I've ever seen you in a dress.”
She scowled at him, before it morphed into a bright smile.
Taulass tucked the Glock into the back of his trousers and pulled his top over the weapon, hiding it from view. He reached the door, paused as if expecting someone to be on the other side, then swung it open. “Let's get moving, we can discuss the details of the plan on the way.”
Chapter 27
Namtar had his first clenched so tightly in the girl's wet hair that his knuckles began to throb with a dull ache. He pulled back slightly, her body responding to his every move, as if she was a puppet on a string. The thrill of the hunt was almost over. Soon he would get to avenge his bother.