Jerry turned back to him. “Coming directly to Hart Island? Don’t be stupid.”
He shouted in the general direction of the guards around the field and building. “Call everyone in, and look sharp.”
The goons gathered in the artificial light at front of the building.
Jerry ran back to the side of the building. “Anthony, Anthony . . .”
“I’ll be two minutes—just be patient,” he replied, out of our sight.
“What are you doing? We’ve got two choppers coming in,” Jerry said.
“Martina’s using the launch codes as leverage again.”
“Fuck her; we might get them from these guys coming in.”
“Keep your voice down. She’s not the problem. You know what the issue is . . .”
“Just shoot her. We’ll get them how I originally wanted,” Jerry said.
“You know we’ve just about managed to pull things back into shape. Don’t do anything rash. Wait until the time’s right. You need to muster the troops and greet the choppers. We need to look well organized if they’re to believe our story.”
“What about Harry and Jack?”
“We’ll deal with them when HQ has gone,” Anthony said far too eagerly. “Just roll out the red carpet, right?”
Jerry looked down at us. “We waited long enough, I suppose. A couple more hours won’t hurt.”
The moon cast Anthony’s shadow along the grass. “Just bide your time, listen to everything they say, and keep your answers vague.”
“Got it. I’ll get everyone organized at the front,” Jerry said and looked into the sky at the now clearly visible helicopters.
He organized the assembled goons on the field into three lines of ten, and stood in front of them like a second-rate drill sergeant.
One of the choppers thumped through the night sky, making a low-level pass of the island. It turned in a wide arc and hovered for a few moments over the field before slowly descending and bumping on the ground seventy yards away.
It looked like a large black Sea King. The blades slowly spun to a halt and relaxed.
A side door rumbled open. Ten armed men streamed out and lined up in the field, crouching with weapons aimed forward.
The local GA team exchanged whispers. All eyes were on the new arrivals, who held their position.
Two minutes later, another Sea King slowly dropped to the field. Four people sprang out, folded out some steps, and formed a guard. A silver-haired man in a cream suit, carrying a clipboard, descended the steps and looked around.
He walked toward Jerry. The armed guards edged forward, keeping a few yards behind him in an extended line across the field.
“Identify yourselves,” he called out in a northern English accent.
“I’m Jerry Caisley, Genesis Alliance Regional Coordinator for New York Three in North America,” he said with an air of confidence.
The man frowned at his clipboard and ran his finger along it. He continued forward across the flattened grass. His squad also advanced, stopping twenty yards short of Jerry.
The engines of the second helicopter whined to a halt.
“Are you in charge?” Cream Suit asked.
Jerry nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“Are these all of your men?”
“Yes, there are others, but—”
The man raised his hand, stopping Jerry in his tracks. “Are these all of your men?”
Jerry nodded again. “Don’t worry about the two by the wall; they’re dead men.”
I noticed Jack immediately close his eyes; I followed suit. I didn’t like the look of this one bit. It seemed a strange and aggressive way to introduce themselves.
“Which ones are from the tech team?”
“They’re not here,” Jerry said.
“Then go and get them.”
“I can’t. They were ordered to Atlantic City by Headquarters.”
“Sorry, my mistake. When did they leave?”
“Today.”
The man folded his clipboard under his arm. “Okay, relax, everyone, but stay where you are. I’m an Operations Director from the other side of the pond. I’m going around all of our sites, checking resources and compiling progress reports from the local teams. As you’re aware, we’ve faced some issues, so I want to focus our efforts into the right areas. Please form a single line. I’m going to come along and ask your name and a few short questions.”
“Get moving then—you heard the man,” Jerry shouted.
I squinted half an eye open and watched the man moving along the line, shaking hands with people and having brief conversations while writing on the clipboard. After talking to the last man, he tucked the clipboard under his arm again and walked back in front of the local team.
“Gentlemen, thank you for your time. It’s been invaluable.”
He turned to walk away.
“Is that it?” Jerry asked. “What do we do next?
Cream suit raised his right hand. “Fire!”
The field lit up with muzzle flashes. Deafening bursts of automatic fire ripped through the men and women lined up in front of the building. Rounds thumped against the wall and shattered windows to our right.
I tensed and watched the local goons being ripped apart through my half-closed eyes. None had time to go for their weapons; the attack happened too quickly and unexpectedly for them to react. The man held up his arm again and the firing ceased.
He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a silver revolver and waved it in the direction of the massacre.
They searched around the bodies, two of whom were finished off with a close-range shot to the head. I heard Jerry groan.
Cream Suit stood over him. “Why? Because it’s been a total fuck-up over here from start to finish. A destroyed control unit, a late activation, repeating the first activation in New York.”
Jerry raised a quivering, bloodstained hand toward him and let out a mumbled cry. Cream Suit shook his head, lowered his revolver, and fired directly in Jerry’s face.
He walked toward the entrance of the building and looked inside. I closed my eyes and hoped he assumed we were dead. I wasn’t about to start negotiating with him or his team, and lay as still as possible.
“It’s in here,” he shouted. “Remember, take out the processors, but don’t mess it up. We just need to leave it unworkable for anyone who finds it, and easy to put back together if we decide to send another team.”
I squinted an eye open again. Two men entered the building with large plastic briefcases.
“I hear they might be sending the California team here,” one of them said.
“Won’t be for at least a couple of months. They’re too busy at the moment.”
Cream Suit leaned against the exterior wall and lit a cigarette. Drilling noises came from inside. In a matter of minutes, both men left the building. One carried three large circuit boards; the other, a hard drive.
One of the assault team approached Cream Suit. “Want us to sweep the island, sir?”
“Don’t worry about it. We’ve done what’s needed. Let’s get the hell out of here and back to the ship.”
He tossed his cigarette to his side. It landed inches from my face, and smoke drifted up my nostrils. I strained to keep still and suppressed a cough.
“Everybody out!” a voice shouted.
Propellers started to spin, and the engines noise increased. The group boarded the helicopters and weren’t wasting any time. The first rose slowly into the sky, closely followed by the second Sea King. They both inclined forward and thumped away.
“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” I said.
I used the wall to lever myself up, picked up the bolt cutters from the table, and threw myself into the long grass, acutely aware that three people remained alive at the back of the building
.
Jack landed next to me. “Make for the trees.”
We staggered up and ran thirty yards to a small wooded area on our left. Close to the sound of water lapping against the shore.
I ducked behind a tree.
“Turn around and I’ll cut you free,” I said.
Jack spun and held out his arms. I snapped the cutters’ teeth through the tie.
He stretched his arms and grabbed the cutters.
The tie flipped off painful wrists. I rubbed them and looked back at the scene of carnage. Relief washed over me, but we weren’t safe yet.
“We’ve got two options,” I said. “Pick up a rifle and finish it, or head for the boat.”
“We finish it—and save Lea.”
I sprinted the short distance back across the small field and knelt by a corpse. He had entry wounds in his nose and forehead, the final one perhaps being the “coup de grace” delivered by one of his own organization. I pulled an AR-15 from underneath him, checked the magazine, and reloaded.
A shot split the air. Jack flew back.
In my peripheral vision, I noticed a figure at the corner of the building.
A muzzle flashed and a tracer round zipped over my shoulder. I swept the rifle around and fired five shots.
Anthony screamed and fell into the light, clutching his chest.
“Jack, are you alright?” I shouted.
“I’ll live,” he groaned and rolled onto his front.
Anthony tried to raise himself with one hand and gurgled, “Bastards.”
We both fired repeatedly. One of the rounds smacked into Anthony’s temple. He lurched forward and flopped face first to the dirt. Jack fired again and struck him in the top of the head. His body didn’t move.
I scrambled over to him but kept half an eye on the building. “Are you okay? Let me have a look.”
Jack lay on his side and pulled his trousers down a few inches with his thumb. He had a small entry wound a couple of inches from his hipbone.
“Lea,” I shouted. “Come out—it’s clear.”
Moments later, the two women appeared from behind the building. They both gaped at Anthony as they passed him.
I pointed my rifle at Martina. “You. Throw your weapon on the ground. The one in your holster.”
She slowly took out the pistol and dropped it in the grass.
“That’s right. Now come closer,” I ordered.
She had some serious questions to answer. Lea had her weapon back, but I felt sure she wouldn’t use it against us. Even if Jack killed her partner.
“She was forced to do it,” Lea said. “She’s just been telling me about it.”
“Oh, I bet she has,” Jack said. He grimaced and used his rifle to haul himself to his feet. “She nearly got us all killed.”
Lea stepped in front of Martina. “It’s Morgan’s fault. He told Anthony everything.”
“Bullshit,” I said. “We hadn’t even met you by then. All he knew about was the note.”
“When I left to meet you, to discuss our plan, they threatened her with all kinds of crazy shit. You know what they were like; she had to come clean to save my life.”
“Anthony let you leave the island?” Jack said. “Straight after finding out you were coming to try and meet us?”
“He wanted to know what Martina knew about it and to see if she would sanction my execution.”
“Come off it. You know that’s rubbish,” I said. “If they wanted us so badly, they could have just followed you to the Queensboro Bridge.”
Jack jabbed his rifle at Martina. “Can’t she speak for herself?”
“It’s true. We’ve all got what we wanted, in a roundabout way. I’m sorry about before. It was all part of the act. I had to be convincing.”
Martina looked and sounded insincere. Perhaps that was her way, but she took us both for fools if she expected us to swallow her crap.
“You seem to be forgetting that you wanted me killed first,” Jack said.
She half-closed her eyes and looked at Lea.
“You can’t blame them for being like this,” Lea said.
“She sold us down the river, and you know it,” I said.
“By the way, Martina,” Jack said. “Jerry and Anthony were going to kill you as soon as they got the launch codes.”
“Do you think I don’t know that?” she asked. “I’ve still got them, though, and that’s a big bargaining chip.”
“What do you think just happened?”
I edged sideways and placed Martina firmly in my sights. “They took parts of the control unit, so it can’t be used. There’s another team coming over . . .”
“I can negotiate with them,” Martina said.
It annoyed me that she thought she could simply talk her way out of this. I wasn’t sure how anyone could like this woman, especially Lea. “This isn’t a stupid game, you know? They’re bringing in another team from California. It’s over for you, Martina.”
Lea tugged at her arm. “It’s a fresh start. We can forget about this whole thing.”
Martina scowled at me. “It’s not over until I say it’s over. I’ve been Henry Fairfax’s eyes and ears on the ground. He’ll have me back in the blink of an eye.”
I stared at her over my sights, not quite believing what she’d just said.
Lea’s eyes widened, and she leaned away from Martina. “You never told me this. I thought you said Ron kept most of it secret from you. Tell me you’re just saying this to—”
“I was only trying to protect you,” Martina said. “Ron was the front. Do you really think I kept going to South America when I kept returning without a hint of a tan?”
Jack winced and raised his rifle. “How much more evidence do you need, Lea?”
Lea cupped her cheeks. “Oh my God. You scheming bitch.”
“Watch your tongue,” Martina said. “Fairfax wouldn’t kill the person who helped him plan this whole thing. I sent him e-mails while you made me meatloaf. Do you know how stupid that makes you look?”
Lea silently shook her head, stepped away from Martina, and walked over to my side. It had a symbolic feeling, like she’d finally made her choice and taken her foot out of one camp. Who could blame her after Martina’s revelations? Although I suspected some of them weren’t true. I decided we should leave her on the island to stew in her own juice. A quick death was far too good for this bitter woman.
My mind already raced with bigger things than her. The immediate threat was replaced with breathing space. But we caught a glimpse of what loomed on the horizon if we didn’t act.
Martina dived to her right and grabbed the pistol from the grass. She swung it around in our direction. Before I could pull the trigger, Lea fired two rounds. Martina jerked twice as the bullets hit her chest in quick succession. Her arms fell limply by her sides.
Lea slowly lowered her gun and bowed her head.
“It was her or us,” Jack said. “I was going to do it anyway.”
Good old Jack, as subtle as a brick, but I agreed with the sentiment.
Martina coughed. Lea ran to her side, knelt, and held her hand. Martina wheezed heavily and stared at the clear night sky. Blood soaked the front of her vest.
“Why did you do it?” Lea cried in anguish. “Why did you have to ruin it all?”
Martina fixed her gaze on Lea and squeezed her eyes closed. In a final act of spite, she spat blood into Lea’s face. Her head flopped to the left, she exhaled, and her eyes glazed over.
Lea sprang to her feet and wiped her right cheek. “I’ve been fooling myself, right up until the end. I’m sorry.”
“You’ve got nothing to apologize for. She left you with no choice,” I said.
Lea covered her face with her hands and sobbed. Jack and I backed off to give her a minute. Martina’s betraya
l ran even deeper than I’d ever imagined. It must’ve cut Lea to the bone.
“Let’s get off this island and somewhere safe,” I said. “You’re better off without her.”
And I genuinely believed it. Martina had been a poisonous influence on Lea, and it had nearly cost us our lives. We could now focus as a single-minded group.
Jack put his arm around me for support, and I helped him back toward the boat. Lea joined him at his other side, and he folded his other arm around her. We shuffled along together and reached the landing.
Jack slumped into the back of the boat, and Lea took the controls. I stood looking down at them and felt a strong sense of determination.
“What’s the plan?” Jack asked.
“We can’t go on fighting Genesis Alliance in open warfare,” I said. “They’re too strong for three of us. But we can’t ignore them. They need to be ground into the dirt.”
“What do we do?” Lea asked.
“We go over to England and cut the head from the snake’s body. We decapitate Genesis Alliance. Are you in?”
They both nodded.
The End
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Paul Lucas from Janklow & Nesbit, for his advice, support, and the fantastic job he did of finding us such a great publisher in 47North.
Emilie Marneur and Sana Chebaro from the Amazon UK team, who have guided us through every step and have been a pleasure to work with.
Jennifer Gaynor, our excellent structural editor.
Jill M. Pellarin, our equally as good copy editor.
Harry Dewulf for his creative input.
Mike Meredith, David Spell, and Jean Dunn for your beta reading and support.
Finally, and most importantly, our readers. We’ve had some great feedback, communication, and encouragement from you in the last twelve months. We wish we could mention you all, and we appreciate the time you have taken to read our book.
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
Photo © 2014 Dawn Cotton
Darren Wearmouth was born in Yorkshire and spent six years in the British Army’s Royal Signals Division before pursuing a career in corporate technology. After fifteen years working for telecommunications firms and a startup, he decided to follow his passion for writing. A sportsman, he loves watching and playing football, cricket, and golf. His other hobbies include reading, mountaineering, and socializing. He also has a hidden talent for Italian cooking. He currently resides in Manchester, England.
Second Activation (The Activation Series Book 2) Page 26