by E H Jennings
Zeke shook his head. “Not yet. But they definitely plan to end it tonight.”
They took a sharp turn off the road and into the woods. They ran ten paces before Lazarus held up a hand and stopped them.
“This is the entrance,” he said, pointing toward the rock façade in front of them.
It looked like a rock wall, nothing more. No one said anything until Zeke pushed against the rock and one of the large boulders simply rolled away, as if he had superhuman strength.
“Wood covered in clay, set on rollers,” he explained. Sure enough, the “boulder” was on a tiny track and four small metal wheels were affixed to its base. Beyond it was a wide tunnel, almost completely clear of debris. With the NVGs, it would be easy walking.
“It opens right onto the road,” said Carson. “Why?”
They all realized it was a hidden entrance to Blackstone, but only Lazarus knew what it really was. Only he knew the CIA hadn’t built this entrance; it had been constructed by the entrepreneurial hands of the Crawford brothers, in an effort to give their bootleggers more convenient access to the product.
“Because it does,” said Lazarus, and led the way inside.
• • •
When he saw them, tears streamed from his swollen eyes.
Amy and the girls were alive, but they had been beaten ruthlessly.
They were ahead of him, facing forward. Food Man stood in between and urged them on. Colton could hear the muted whimpers, the concealed sobs from Audrey and Alyssa, watched their little bare feet limp forward on the stone.
Food Man led them down a long corridor and out into the main barracks. Colton recognized the face the moment he saw it. Evil bathed in moonlight. It was him.
McManus. And the Director of the CIA was standing right beside him.
He thought again of the blonde woman in the mail room at Langley, the one that had warned him about all this so many months before.
Two more men emerged from the shadows and Colton recognized them as the men that had beaten him. They went and stood alongside McManus, Bradford, and a third person Colton didn’t recognize.
Food Man told them to kneel and they obeyed. They were in a line: Amy, the girls, then Colton.
Colton made eye contact with them for the first time since their arrival at Blackstone. Their eyes were red and swollen much like his own, but in spite of everything Alyssa smiled up at him. Her dimples were the most beautiful sight he had seen in days.
McManus stepped forward and patted both girls on the head. Colton tried to spit on him, which earned him a blow to the face from Zlotkov.
McManus chuckled and raised a hand. “That’s quite enough, Emil.” He then patted Colton on the head much like he had done the children.
“I’m sure you’re wondering why you’re here,” he said. “First, let me apologize for your treatment. Your captors are savages. Take hope in the fact that they will be treated as such.” Zlotkov and Pak looked over to Ancic. They didn’t like the sound of that. “But as for why you’re here, I’m pained to say time doesn’t permit a lengthy explanation. Just know you have been chosen to fulfill a lofty purpose.”
Colton stared in shock as McManus started crying.
“My life has been marked by sacrifices. Many have been painful and have come at great personal cost. But sacrifice, you must know, is always necessary. No great achievement is possible without it.”
He raised his arms. “This beautiful place has served the world in ways most will never understand. And tonight, it will become your tomb. Your blood will be the sacrifice that seals Blackstone’s place in history. You will be like the Captain going down with his ship. But more than that, your blood will be the symbol of transition. The end of one chapter and the beginning of another; an indelible mark of change.
“All of history’s great transitions have been stamped with bloodshed. And you are a worthy sacrifice. The family of two of my greatest creations, the final vestiges of Mirkwood. You are the end of The Project’s first phase and the lamb that will bless the second. You are courageous for accepting such a monumental task and I admire each of you.”
McManus’s wistful expression suddenly changed. He looked beyond the line of Kings, searching the shadows.
Then Colton heard it too. Echoes coming from the corridor.
The color drained from his face, McManus nodded to Zlotkov and Pak and they sprinted out of the barracks. Food Man took off after them.
McManus, Bradford, and the third man formed a huddle, speaking in hushed tones.
Colton leaned to his left and grabbed Alyssa’s hand, squeezing it tightly. She let her head fall against his shoulder.
After a brief deliberation, McManus shouted, “Prepare the charges!”
CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE
Kanab, Utah
The plane touched down at 0600 and a small group of men walked across the tarmac. Four Mercedes G-Class SUVs were waiting for them.
The men didn’t speak during the hour drive, much like they hadn’t spoken during the flight. It was protocol. All information was to be contained until they got where they were going.
When the SUVs stopped, the men grabbed their duffles and filed out, walking toward the large structure looming against the morning horizon. All they could see were little lights, no details. It looked like some kind of factory.
It wasn’t.
Major General Thomas Clevenger opened the door for the men and took roll as they entered. Each man stated his last name. First names weren’t important.
Clevenger quickly went down the list, checking off each man. Fourteen of the seventeen recruits were present, but when he reached the bottom, he signed off, stating that every man was accounted for.
The other three would arrive soon enough.
CHAPTER SEVENTY
Monticello
1 hour remaining
As they ascended into Blackstone’s main corridor, Carson finally got his bearings. This portion of the cave was narrow, with steep crevices of unknown depth slicing into the mountain to their right.
They had been climbing for nearly twenty minutes. By Carson’s estimation, they were less than five from the holding chambers.
Zeke stopped and held up his hand. He never turned to look at them, just spoke into his bone mic.
“We’re not alone,” he whispered.
Carson glanced at Connor, then Mick. They both shook their heads.
“We don’t hear anything,” Carson whispered back.
“I don’t hear it,” said Zeke. “I feel it.”
He pointed to his feet. There was no appreciable sound to warn them of the approaching threat, but resonance couldn’t be completely eliminated.
Footsteps.
Carson’s thinking went tactical. Olivia was badly wounded; he had been listening to her labored breathing all throughout the hike. More than once she had spit blood. Sayid had counseled that she stay at the airport, to which she had replied with some counsel of her own—she flipped him the bird.
Mick only had one good arm and was still better than most with two healthy ones, but he was a pilot. He would be more useful elsewhere.
As the vibrations increased, the enemy drawing closer, Carson took the lead. “The corridor bifurcates in fifty yards or so. Mick, you and Olivia go right. It’ll take you all the way to the surface.”
“Objective?” asked Mick.
“Block McManus from slipping out the back door. Keep that damn chopper on the ground. Connor, Zeke, Sayid, and I will go left, toward the chambers. That’s where the fight’ll be.” He looked at Connor. “And that’s probably where our family is.”
“I’m afraid not,” Zeke said. “McManus operates on delusions of grandeur. My guess is he came here tonight to make a show of it, to send Blackstone out in style. He won’t give his encore performance from a prison cell.”
“What do you mean send it out?” Carson asked. “What about Red Shire?”
“I think he means this,” said Sayid, searching the wall to their left.
There was a thin black wire that ran along the floor then attached to a hook in the ceiling.
“Holy shit,” said Mick. “The place is rigged to blow.”
The footsteps were getting closer.
“We need to move,” Carson said, jogging up ahead of Zeke. He held the HK at the ready, prepared to kill whatever monsters were hiding inside the mountain.
When they reached the bifurcation, Mick and Olivia went right, just as Carson had instructed. Connor moved up alongside his brother while Zeke fell back with Sayid. They kept moving at a steady jog and had nearly reached the holding chambers when the first bullet was fired, ricocheting off the wall to their left.
“Single file!” Carson commanded. “Get as close to the wall as possible. Do not return fire.”
Another round hit just above their heads.
“Here!” said Carson. “Get inside!”
The cells weren’t large. They were built into the stone walls and guarded by iron doors. Carson and Zeke fell into a cell along the right, while Connor and Sayid went left.
Bullets clanked off the doors and one actually deflected into the cell, somehow passing between Carson and Zeke but missing them both. Carson popped his head out once and nearly had it taken off.
“We’re pinned down,” he said, stating the obvious.
“How you wanna play it?” asked Connor.
Carson was still thinking when Zeke suddenly stood and walked out of the cell.
“Zeke!” he shouted. “What the hell are you doing? Get back in here!”
But he didn’t stop. Nor did he run. He didn’t even shoulder his weapon. He walked into the corridor, turned right, and yelled, “Maria!”
There were two shots, then silence.
• • •
Olivia and Mick pushed through the pile of sticks and leaves and emerged into the woods. They were on a steep slope, the trees thick around them. The night air was cold.
They had just started to climb when they heard the beating of helicopter wings.
Then, they started to run.
Relief flooded Olivia’s chest as they crested the hill and saw the helicopter still on the ground. There was a wide clearing that had been leveled off, a makeshift helipad; the chopper sat right in the middle. But their relief was short-lived.
“Get down,” Mick whispered, grabbing Olivia’s shoulders and pulling her behind a group of trees.
They had heard a helicopter, but it wasn’t the one parked in the clearing. It was hovering somewhere above them, preparing to land.
They pressed their bodies flat against the ground. Olivia dug her hands into the leaves and lay face down, so none of her skin was exposed. Mick lay beside her, using his good arm to hold the M16. They were no more than ten yards from the clearing.
The trees began to thrash as the helicopter lowered into the woods and gently landed alongside the other one. The pilot killed the engine.
Olivia felt Mick tense when four men climbed out. They all wore black and three were carrying rifles. The fourth man, the pilot, was much smaller than the others and didn’t appear to be armed. The three with rifles jogged out of the clearing and down the opposite slope while the pilot stayed behind. He stood between the helicopters, flipped up his hood, and lit a cigarette.
There were three suppressed pops and the man slumped to the ground.
Mick rose to his knees, but Olivia grabbed his jacket and pulled him back down. She had seen the muzzle flashes. They had come from inside the other helicopter.
The shooter opened the door and pumped another round into the dead man. They expected him to run after the other three, but he didn’t. Instead, he grabbed the pilot’s legs and began dragging the body out of the clearing.
The only problem was that he was coming right at Olivia and Mick.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE
Don’t move!” Mick shouted. “Hands where I can see them!”
The shooter had come within three feet before Mick lurched out from behind the tree, wielding his M16. If the shooter was surprised to see someone jump out of the woods waving a gun, he didn’t show it.
The man was small, even smaller than the pilot he had just killed, and was dressed in black from head to toe. He even wore a toboggan and facemask.
In response to Mick’s request, the shooter dropped the pilot’s legs.
“Good,” said Mick. “Now hands behind your head. Reach for your pockets and you’re a dead man.”
The shooter slowly raised his arms, showing that his hands were empty. He interlocked his fingers behind his head just as Mick had commanded.
Mick took a few steps toward him. “On your knees.”
As the shooter knelt, Olivia rose gingerly and took out her pistol. She scanned the clearing and listened closely for any sound of someone else approaching.
“Olivia,” whispered the shooter. “It’s me.”
Olivia and Mick shared a look of bewilderment. The man that had shot the pilot wasn’t a man. It was a woman’s voice—a woman that knew Olivia’s name.
“Take off my facemask,” the shooter said. “I’ll keep my hands behind my head. Hurry up!”
Suddenly, Olivia recognized the voice. Ignoring Mick’s orders to stay back, she stepped forward and tore off the toboggan and facemask.
“Teresa? What the hell are you doing here?”
Teresa Ferrell had a law degree from Harvard and nearly forty years of experience with the CIA. By all accounts, she was brilliant; everyone knew she was the rightful heir to the top job at Langley. With that said, she was one of the last people on earth you would expect to be hiding out in a helicopter waiting to kill someone.
“McManus activated Red Shire,” said Ferrell, rising from her knees. “And he knows Carson and Connor are here. That’s why he ordered a detachment.”
“He did what?”
Ferrell pointed at the helicopter. “Those three men you just saw are Red Shire operatives. They’re here to—”
“To kill Carson,” Olivia finished.
Ferrell nodded. “I’m sure you won’t mind if I borrow that,” she said, reaching for Mick’s M16.
He begrudgingly let her have it. “What the hell am I supposed to do?”
“You’ll fly the helicopter.”
• • •
“Let’s go!” Zeke yelled.
Carson, Connor, and Sayid hesitantly came out of the cells, guns raised. There was no explanation for what had just happened. There was no way Zeke had killed their attackers; he hadn’t even raised a weapon.
But now he was running, Kimber 1911s in hand. “No time to explain!” he shouted back. “To the barracks!”
“Does this bastard ever have time to explain?” Sayid asked.
Moving in a full sprint, it took barely a minute to reach the barracks. But a minute turned out to be too long.
At one end of the room, standing stoically in the moonlight, was Warren McManus. And kneeling in a line in front of him was Carson’s family.
His chest heaved at the sight of them. He wanted nothing more than to run to them, to hold each of them in his arms. But he couldn’t. Because there was a man standing next to Amy, a gun pressed to her head.
“Put the gun down or die, motherfucker,” said Connor, shouldering his HK. “Simple as that.”
The man holding the gun didn’t flinch.
“Three seconds!” Connor screamed. “Three…”
The man didn’t acknowledge the countdown. There was something about him, thought Carson, something out of place. He studied him, trying to figure it out.
“Two…”
The man was breathing hard, like he’d been running. That didn’t make sense. But Carson realized that wasn’t it either.
“One!”
He was looking away. That was it. The man wouldn’t turn his head and face them.
But in that final fraction of a second, the man leaned in slightly, just enough for Carson to see his eyes. It was all it took—he recognized him instantly. He also now under
stood why Lazarus had screamed “Maria” in the corridor outside the chambers.
The man was none other than Chuck Rosario.
And just as Connor was about to pull the trigger and kill him, Rosario suddenly turned and shot Drago Ancic in the face.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO
Ancic’s corpse had barely hit the ground before the room exploded into a firefight. Gunfire erupted in every direction; rock fragments filled the air.
Colton jumped to his left to cover Amy and the girls, and when he did he saw McManus charge Food Man, spearing him against the stone.
Meanwhile, Carter Bradford ran the opposite direction, exiting Blackstone by way of the west wall.
• • •
The spray of bullets came from their right.
Connor was sprinting toward Amy when he dove and rolled, dodging several rounds, then kept running. Sayid retreated into the opposite corridor and Zeke saved Carson’s life, tackling him behind a rock outcropping.
Carson quickly found his feet and returned fire. There were three men approaching fast. Carson killed the front man but the other two kept coming.
When Carson’s first clip clicked empty, Zeke covered him with the Kimbers. Behind them, Sayid had moved up, finding a small foothold near a crevice and was laying cover fire.
Jamming in a fresh clip, Carson peaked out and discovered very bad news.
“Get down!” he screamed.
One of the Red Shire assassins fired a grenade launcher into the outcropping, blowing the massive boulder of metamorphic rock into bits.
Carson landed hard on his back and covered his face as the shower of rubble fell.
Sayid was still in the fight, but when the assassin reloaded the grenade launcher he was forced to vacate his position. If a grenade hit anywhere near the thousand-foot crevice, the whole corridor was bound to collapse. He sprinted along the wall and was exposed for a full twenty yards, but the assassins never fired a shot. Their eyes were fixed on their prey of interest.
Carson’s arms and legs were pinned; his HK was buried somewhere beneath him.
Zeke was unconscious beside him.