[Sam Archer 08.0] Last Breath

by Tom Barber

  ‘Where are they?’ Thorne snarled.

  Archer didn’t reply, using the time to breathe. Slamming him back, they repeated the process, the shirt snapped over his face again, Tarketti and Riley holding him down as Thorne held the rag and Deerman poured. The men looked at each other. Archer was right; they didn’t have all night, far from it, and the son of a bitch wasn’t talking, neither was Burnett having any luck in finding the plates on the car Ledger and Archer must have got here in. The average length of time someone could last with this treatment was two minutes, but Archer had gone twice that already. Fire engines and cops were pouring in from all over the neighbourhood; they needed to get the information from Archer and get out of there.

  They snapped him back up.

  ‘This is the last time I’m going to ask you,’ Thorne said quietly, every word dripping with menace. ‘Where are they?’

  Swaying slightly in his seat, trying to focus, Archer looked at him hazily as he took deep breaths.

  Realising this was it.

  Then he smiled.

  And Thorne realised he was never going to tell them.

  One of the fire-crews had just breached the building next door; the sprinklers had already diminished the flames’ intensity but there were still pockets of fire.

  Moving up the stairs, they searched for any survivors. Weighed down with his gear, one of the firemen stumbled, the guy behind him snapping out an arm to help steady him; looking down, they both saw scores of dark balls littering the floor, each with a hole in the side. It was making walking treacherous.

  ‘Got someone!’ the lead firemen said over their comms system.

  Moving forward, he saw a blonde woman slumped halfway through the door to the stairwell, unconscious. His partners taking the hose, the man bent down and hoisted the woman up over his shoulder. Then, as he straightened, he saw another figure sprawled a few feet further back.

  ‘There’s someone else!’ he said, passing the woman over to a colleague.

  Moving forward, he saw the unconscious figure was an African American teenager. Hoisting the boy up, he turned and moved back the way they’d come.

  Following his fellow fireman carrying the woman, the man carried the youngster over to their truck where EMTs were waiting. Lowering the pair onto padded mats on the ground, the EMTs immediately started to check their vitals, one of them putting an oxygen mask over the unconscious boy’s face.

  Beside them, the woman had just regained consciousness and was trying to talk.

  ‘Take it easy!’ the medic beside her said, trying to keep the mask over her face.

  The fireman frowned, leaning forward, seeing how distressed the woman was. ‘Did we miss someone?’

  ‘My brother!’

  In the building fifty yards away, Archer stared into Thorne’s eyes.

  And realised he was about to die.

  The man suddenly turned him round in the chair, sliced through his binds and slammed his head into the trough, pushing his face into the cold water as one of the other men helped. Archer felt the iron grip on his head holding him under the water, the pressure quickly building, everything going purple.

  Fighting to the last, he managed to rip his left arm free and scythed his elbow back, feeling it crunch into a nose, but the other men slammed him down into the trough with even more force. Everything went purple as a thousand thoughts shrieked through his mind, but he still refused to give up.

  Using his last ounce of strength, he lashed out blindly behind him again.

  Fight!

  FIGHT!

  But then he hit the breaking point. Sam Archer took his last breath.

  And a moment later he died.

  FORTY NINE

  Across the city, Angela and Ledger were getting close to the address to where Veach’s cell phone had been tracked, Angela driving and studying the GPS, Ledger sitting silently beside her, slumped low in his seat in case anybody spotted him. Glancing over at him, Angela saw Ledger pinching his brow; he looked like hell, his skin darkened by dust, dried blood on his neck. He’d been shot several hours ago and with only Archer’s pretty rudimentary medical treatment, had fought on through the pain but he looked as if he was now paying the price, his body pushed to its absolute limits.

  ‘We don’t know what we’re gonna find,’ she said. ‘Are you sure you’re up to this?’

  ‘I’m sure.’

  She smiled. ‘Hanging in there, right?’

  He looked across at her and managed a smile. ‘All things considered.’

  ‘We need Veach alive to get to the truth. Right now, people still think you’re public enemy number one.’

  He nodded, but said nothing. He knew what she was saying; don’t lose it and kill him. There was a pause, Ledger looking out at the mostly empty streets, holding his pistol in his good hand.

  ‘Haven’t been here since I was at the V.A,’ he said. ‘Takes me back.’

  ‘Did you like being a soldier?’

  He considered the question. ‘I used to.’

  ‘Why did you leave?’

  Ledger glanced at her, then at the road ahead.

  ‘I was on an op in Kandahar. Received reports that an enemy sniper team was in the area. It was a trap and we were ambushed. Almost my entire squad was killed in that initial exchange; my spotter went down too. I fought my way to cover and hid. Was out there for two days. Avoided detection, even when ground forces were called in. But they found me eventually.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘I got cornered in an abandoned school. The remaining enemy combatants lit the place up but couldn’t put me down; their ground teams rushed me and I kept dropping them. But I was running out of ammo. Down to my last mag. I was counting the rounds. Seven. Six. Five.’

  He paused.

  ‘Over there, they send out children as spotters, knowing we won’t fire on them. These guys sent some kids out to me. They had vests strapped to them; suicide jackets, packed with explosives and grenades. They looked terrified, but they kept on coming. I shouted at them to stay where they were but they didn’t. They couldn’t. If they went back, they knew the enemy would kill them. The youngest looked about seven.’

  He swallowed.

  ‘Support was on its way at this point. I could see the heli in the distance coming to extract me. But they weren’t going to get there in time. I was down to my last two rounds. I tried a warning shot close to them; it jolted them, but they kept coming. Some of them were crying.’

  Pause.

  ‘I shot the vest on one of the kids. The explosives did the rest. Two minutes later, the chopper arrived and I was evac’d out of there.’

  He looked out of the window.

  ‘We’re trained to be specific. That can mean the difference between doing your job and failing. Even though I don’t want to, I can give you the data on every one of my kills; the weapon, the type of round, grains, distances, whether it was day or night. The weather, wind, location, where the target was hit; difficulty in infiltration and exfiltration.’

  Ledger paused.

  ‘But when it goes wrong, you also remember every single detail, every smell. I can tell you everything about that day, hard as I try to forget it. Because of me, there are six kids no longer alive who should be.’

  Angela looked at him, seeing the strain on the wanted man’s face.

  ‘I got back three years ago and after treatment, joined the NYPD. They wanted me to apply as a sharpshooter for ESU, but I needed to move on. For a while there, it felt like it was working.’

  He swallowed, looking out of the windshield, his eyes vacant with a thousand-yard stare.

  ‘At the V.A someone gave me a statistic. Every day, twenty veterans from the Iraq war commit suicide. Four months into my police career, I found out two of the guys from my V.A group had added themselves to that statistic. Another followed two weeks later. All the guys from my sniper unit, gone. All the guys from my recovery group, gone. I’d never felt so isolated. I started on the O
xy. And it became a battle every day not to add myself to the twenty-a-day list.’

  Angela didn’t say a word, staring at the road ahead as she drove.

  Despite her best efforts, tears had welled in her eyes.

  Ledger, breathed out slowly, then smiled. ‘That’s my story. Somehow, I’m still here. But I figured something out a long time ago.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Everyone around me dies.’

  She didn’t reply for a moment. ‘You and Archer have almost died tonight protecting me and Jesse. You’ve fought these men off and are still doing it, and we’re still alive.’

  Silence followed. Ledger focused on the numbers of the buildings they were passing before double-checking the scrap of paper Archer had given him.

  ‘I think we’re close.’

  Angela kept driving for another block, then pulled to a halt down a side street. They both climbed out of the car; Ledger checked the chamber on his Sig, before sliding it into its holster and they exited the car, walking to the end of the street.

  ‘That’s the one,’ Ledger said, looking at a building halfway down the next street. ‘Archer’s contact even triangulated the floor his cell is coming from. Veach is on 3.’

  ‘You think he knows we’re here?’ Angela asked quietly, glancing at cameras behind and in front of them.

  ‘Only one way to find out.’

  Inside their sub-station, Veach and Burnett were watching pictures of the burning office building, Veach unable to believe what the team under his command had just unleashed.

  ‘Come in,’ he ordered, demanding a response over the radio.

  Silence.

  ‘Answer me, goddammit. Tell me you did not just use a Kinetic payload on that building.’

  Silence. Frustrated, Veach looked at Burnett.

  ‘How you doing on finding the plates for that car?’

  ‘I can’t find them, sir. Ledger and the reporter must have swapped them out or hidden it.’

  Cursing, Veach turned and moved to the window, checking outside. ‘So where the hell are they?’

  ‘Here, you son of a bitch’ a voice suddenly said from behind him.

  Veach snapped round as Burnett froze where he was sitting. Ledger walked into the room holding a pistol aimed at Veach, the reporter Angela Barrera right on his heels. Staring at the man he’d been hunting all night, Burnett was frozen in fear, suddenly faced with the reality.

  But beside him, Veach stole a glance down to his left.

  There was a sawn-off shotgun slotted in a holster against Burnett’s desk, hidden from view from the two newcomers, a security measure Veach had insisted upon when they’d set up base here.

  ‘Bet you weren’t expecting us,’ Ledger said.

  ‘You’re both in serious trouble with the law,’ Veach said, keeping his voice steady while taking a step forward towards the desk. ‘Put that gun down and you still have a chance.’

  ‘Why do you think we’ve come here?’ Angela asked.

  ‘I have no idea. But I can help you.’

  ‘Help us?’ Ledger said incredulously. ‘Like you and your team have been doing all night? You call that help?’

  ‘That was a defensive response,’ he said. ‘You’ve been resisting arrest.’

  ‘Bullshit. I’ve been trying for hours not to get shot by your guys.’

  ‘Marcia and Tyron were going to meet with me,’ Angela told him. ‘Tyron was going to tell me all about you, wasn’t he? About what you did to him.’

  ‘You’re crazy,’ he blustered after a moment’s silence. He looked at Ledger. ‘This is about him, not me.’

  ‘That’s not gonna work,’ Ledger said. ‘You’re finished.’

  Veach’s hand was closer now to the shotgun resting in its cradle, the grip at thigh level.

  ‘Four innocent people are dead because of you,’ Angela said. ‘Marcia, Tyron, Nate Blake and Jeff Cummings.’

  ‘Not just four,’ Burnett said with a grin. ‘Our guys just took out the office building you were hiding out in.’

  Angela and Ledger looked at him.

  ‘What?’ Ledger said.

  Veach’s hand slid lower.

  His fingertips touched the grip of the sawn-off Remington.

  ‘Your three friends are dead. Once again, people died and it’s your fault. So how does that feel, soldier boy? It’s on you. Again. Isn’t that what your V.A report said? You think it’s always down to you.’

  ‘I wasn’t responsible for any of this, you son of a bitch,’ Ledger replied. ‘You’re the ones who’re going to pay for this. And you’ve been using your Agency team to do it; I sure as hell wouldn’t want to be in your shoes when this comes out.’

  His hand around the shotgun grip, Veach stared at Ledger. Angela noticed the change in his expression.

  Confusion.

  ‘What the hell are you talking about?’ Veach asked. ‘My Agency team?’

  ‘The name Carl Thorne ring any bells? We ID’d him two hours ago.’

  ‘Carl James Thorne?’

  ‘Is there an echo in here?’ Angela snapped. ‘An NSA analyst supposedly, in actuality most likely a field agent for you.’

  ‘Thorne and his team have been missing for three days,’ a voice suddenly said. ‘Doing your dirty work.’

  Spinning round in surprise, Angela saw a brown-haired man and blonde woman, both in black work suits standing in the doorway, each holding a pistol in the aim, badges on their hips.

  However, they weren’t aiming them at her or Ledger.

  They were sighted on Veach.

  ‘Special Agents Peralta and Font, Boston FBI,’ the man said as he glanced at Ledger.

  ‘I didn’t-‘

  ‘We know you’re innocent,’ Peralta said.

  He nodded at Veach.

  ‘His four-man operative team disappeared off the radar seventy two hours ago. Thorne, Deerman, Riley and Tarketti. They’ve been killing people on your orders.’

  ‘The hell are you talking about?’

  ‘Enough,’ Peralta said. ‘You’re done, you piece of shit.’

  ‘But I didn’t use Thorne and his team for this!’ Veach insisted. ‘We used someone else.’

  ‘Keep your mouth shut!’ Burnett suddenly snapped at him.

  Veach ignored him, only too keen to co-operate now the game was up. ‘Thorne and his team aren’t-’

  He never finished the sentence.

  Because the female FBI agent shot him the chest.

  Font’s handgun blasted twice, the double-tap an inch apart as the bullets hit the Section Chief’s torso. As the gunshots echoed around the office floor, momentarily deafening the group in the room, Veach slumped to the floor as Peralta swung on his partner, staring at her in confusion.

  ‘Lindsay!’ he shouted. ‘What the hell are you doing?’

  ‘He hired some guys to frame Harry Ledger,’ she said.

  She turned the gun on her partner.

  ‘And they hired me.’

  FIFTY

  Stirring, Jesse opened his eyes, and blinked, his eyes stinging from smoke.

  He was lying on his back, a mask over his face. Rolling onto his side, he groaned, feeling hands on his shoulders; he could see someone dressed in white above him. Looking to his left, he saw smoke pouring out of smashed windows of the building next door, flowing up into the night sky. There were police and firefighters everywhere on the street around him, the alarm ringing out into the night.

  ‘Just relax, buddy,’ the EMT above him said. ‘You’re safe.’

  Looking around, Jesse tried to remember what had happened.

  Then he looked at the building next door, and saw the crane on the roof.

  ‘Let me up!’ he said, ripping the mask off his face.

  ‘You need to keep it on!’ the EMT ordered.

  ‘My friend is in that building,’ he said. ‘I think he’s in trouble!’

  Inside the unfinished building, Thorne and Deerman were holding a limp Archer’s head in the wa
ter.

  Releasing him, the cop collapsed to the floor in a heap, his eyes open, his body slack.

  Tarketti knelt down and put a finger to his neck.

  ‘He’s dead.’

  The four agents looked down at the cop’s body.

  ‘Son of a bitch,’ Deerman muttered. ‘He didn’t talk.’

  ‘So now what?’ Riley asked.

  ‘We finish this,’ Thorne said, withdrawing his cell phone.

  Beside him Deerman reloaded his assault rifle, tossing the empty magazine to one side.

  Without another word, the four men turned and walked out of the room, leaving Archer’s body slumped on the floor.

  His eyes open, but his pulse gone.

  A moment after the words and they hired me left Font’s mouth, Peralta went for his gun but he was already too late.

  She shot him twice, Peralta taking both rounds to the chest before falling backwards to the office floor. She switched her aim onto Ledger in the blink of an eye but as she squeezed the trigger, Angela knocked her arm and the bullet hit Ledger in the left thigh instead of going through his chest.

  As he started to fall, across the room Burnett grabbed the opportunity and whipped the sawn-off shotgun out of its holster but Font turned her gun on him and fired, hitting him in the head, smashing the glass out behind him as the round went through it.

  With the gunshots echoing around the room, Font stood still for a moment, shell casings at her feet and gun-smoke in the air, just the solitary sound of a cell phone ringtone in the air. Across the room, Peralta was wheezing quietly, his weapon just out of reach as Angela stood there frozen in shock, staring at the FBI agent in horror.

  Aiming her weapon at her, Font drew her ringing cell phone and answered, lifting it to her ear.

  ‘I found Ledger and the reporter. They’re handled.’

  She listened to a response, Angela not daring to move.

  ‘I’m going to split. Our two guys just messaged me. It’s still a full house over there and the phone signal inside the building is blocked. Are our four friends ready to take the fall?’

  Angela heard a murmur over the phone.