by Toby Tate
The paramilitary arm of SAD, called the Special Operations Group, answers directly to the president and the National Security Council. Unattached to any arm of the military, the covert actions of SOG officers can be disavowed by the president.
But Lisa figured that this particular operation was new even for the SOG. They had probably never dealt with anyone…or anything…like Lilith.
In the front of the ready room, Phillips stood by a younger man dressed in a black vest, T-shirt and jeans with a close-cropped haircut and a dark goatee. He had a neck as big around as his head and a chiseled face that held a serene confidence. A small scar ran across the bridge of a nose that looked as if it had been broken at least once. Lisa could see by his well-defined biceps that he obviously worked out and trained consistently. She could see a hardness in his eyes, cool and calculating—the eyes of a trained killer. Yet his demeanor communicated a sense of humanity.
Behind the two men was a diagram on the white board that looked like plans for a football game strategy.
There were several people talking amongst themselves when Phillips raised his hands over his head indicating quiet.
“Alright, listen up,” he said. “This is Jason Fredrichs of the CIA’s Special Operations Group and he will be in command of this operation. You take orders from him and act only when he says. We will be assisting, so you are to take no action of your own unless authorized.” Phillips swept a hand toward his left. “Mr. Fredrichs?”
As Phillips walked away, Fredrichs stepped into his place and stood with hands behind his back.
“First off, just call me Jason—this Mr. Fredrichs shit ain’t gonna get it. I’m not an old man yet,” he said, eliciting chuckles throughout the room.
“There are a lot of misconceptions about the CIA that I would like to straighten out before we get too heavy into the mechanics of the mission. Yes, we are all former Special Forces and yes, we are sometimes called in to do things that make the public a little uncomfortable. But put whatever you’ve seen on TV or in the movies out of your mind. I want you all to be confident in our abilities but at the same time, don’t ascribe supernatural powers to us. You watch our backs and we’ll watch yours. We are all trained in small arms, hand to hand combat, ordinance, intelligence, communications and some of us have more specialized training.”
Jason pointed a big hand at the back of the room.
“Slater over there is an expert tracker, for instance, while Anderson could probably build any kind of bomb known to man. Chin knows almost everything there is to know about biomechanics and has a master’s degree from Stanford. Samson could hack into Bill Gates’ personal computer and Harrison here has a degree in nuclear physics from MIT.”
Harrison interrupted. “And Jason has a BS degree in B.S.,” he said, setting the room off in laughter.
Jason ignored the remark and continued his speech. “Add all that to the fact that we’re highly trained soldiers, I think you can be confident that we have a better-than-average chance of success. Now, besides Blakely here, we have another operative in the field that has managed to infiltrate Lilith’s organization and win her trust. So far we know that all the other members have fled, though we don’t know exactly why or where, yet, but we think it’s because Lilith has mutated.”
“Mutated?” someone asked.
“Yes, mutated. According to our operative, so far her body mass has increased by at least two hundred percent, she has grown claws and large canine-type teeth and has the strength of several men. She also has enhanced senses. For instance, she can smell and hear as well as a canine and our operative has seen evidence that Lilith may be able to see through solid objects, almost like an X-ray machine.”
Lisa raised her hand.
“Yes, Ms. Singleton,” Jason said.
It unnerved Lisa a little that the man knew her name, but she continued.
“Have you heard anything about Hunter?”
“Yes, Ms. Singleton, your husband is in good hands and free of the virus, thanks to our operative. They have fled the area where he was being held and are now awaiting our arrival in a park not far from here.”
Lisa felt relief replace the tension that had held her captive for the last forty-eight hours, but Hunter still wasn’t in the clear, yet. “Why not just bring him back to the ship or airlift him out?”
“Because Lilith may be following him,” Jason said. “But rest assured that he is in the best hands.”
Lisa did not feel reassured.
Fredrichs turned around, walked back to the dry-erase board and stood beside it. He pulled a small laser pointer out of his pocket and shined it up on a rectangle that was drawn there.
“This is where Lilith and her group were last located. It’s an apartment building near Broadway on Park Terrace. We believe Lilith may have vacated the building, but it’s where we’ll start to look for clues. From there, we’ll attempt to track her and take her alive if at all possible.”
Lisa raised her hand again. “What if it’s not possible?” she asked.
“Well, that’s what carbines and rocket launchers are for, aren’t they?”
PART FIVE: RESCUE
CHAPTER 70
“Good news, Hunter. The SOG team is meeting us here and your wife is with them,” Gabe said, as if that bit of information might cheer Hunter up. But it didn’t.
“They’re bringing Lisa here? What the hell for?”
Gabe shrugged. “I thought you’d be happy. Anyway, I was told that she pretty much demanded they bring her along.”
“That figures. She never could resist putting herself in dangerous situations. Why didn’t they just tell her no?”
“Please. You ever try telling a woman no?”
Hunter thought about Lisa’s pregnancy and the fact that if something happened to her, it would also happen to the baby. He would not just be losing one, but two.
Gabe and Hunter had been in the park since yesterday and it was now around nine a.m. Hunter had awakened nearly two hours ago and had eaten a breakfast of freeze-dried rations and coffee that Gabe had brought in her backpack. It reminded him of the rations he had eaten in the Navy when the food on board the ship sometimes left a little to be desired. He was dying for a shower and in fact wasn’t sure if he had even taken one in the last several days. He rubbed a hand across his stubbly face and realized he could probably use a shave, as well.
Hunter stood up in the grass, walked over to one of the surrounding bushes and undid his fly.
“Hope you don’t mind, but I really have to take a whiz,” he said over his shoulder.
“Doesn’t bother me, mate. Long as you don’t mind whipping out your donger in public.”
Hunter scanned the surrounding park.
“What public?” he murmured.
* * *
Lisa was amazed at the firepower that filled the ship’s armory. As the group filed into the compartment to be issued their weapons, a long metal table was loaded with an array of things from shotguns to semi-automatic rifles, carbines and pistols. The room stank of machine oil and gunpowder. There were a few weapons that Lisa knew were not standard Navy issue and she didn’t recognize many of them. They were all flat black in color.
The group stopped at the end of the table sporting the vast display of firepower as Anderson, a black-haired, dark-skinned man that reminded Lisa of Hunter, stepped to one side and grabbed what looked like a carbine with a short barrel and a scope on top. He turned it over in his hands and grinned like a boy with a new video game.
“This is a modified M4A1 with a close quarters battle receiver, making it ideal for the type of mission we are about to undertake. It has a ten-point-three-inch barrel and fires a thirty-round magazine of seventy-seven grain, mark two cartridges at twenty-six hundred feet per second. Like all the rifles and shotguns, it’s equipped with an ATN ThOR 3 thermal optical rifle scope that can see in the dark better than a cat.” He held the gun up in front of his face. “It only weighs about nine pounds fully
loaded, but it will definitely do some damage.”
Anderson laid the carbine down and grabbed one of the shotguns.
“Mossberg M500 twelve-gauge pump-action shotgun. These particular guns have a shorter fourteen-inch barrel and fire five to eight rounds with an effective range of about forty meters. Just aim it in the general vicinity and chances are you’ll hit something. But be careful—they do have a kick, so you may get some bruises.”
The next one Anderson picked up looked like two guns in one.
“This is an M16 SCAR-H combat assault rifle fitted with an MK13 Mod 0 forty-millimeter grenade launcher. The MK16 has a thirteen-inch barrel that fires six-hundred- and twenty-five rounds per minute, a muzzle velocity of twenty-three hundred and forty feet per second and an effective range of three hundred and thirty yards. The MK13 has an effective range of over six-hundred yards and fires five to seven rounds per minute. It can also be operated either right- or left-handed. It will blow a hole in anything you shoot and create a lot of shrapnel, so make sure you’re not in the immediate vicinity of whatever you’re firing at.”
Anderson laid the M16 down and picked up a Beretta.
“I think everyone knows what this is. The nine-millimeter Beretta is standard issue for most of the services except the Coast Guard and is a workhorse. Drop it in the sand, drop it in the water, pick it up and it still fires. Great little weapon with an eighteen-round magazine.”
Anderson turned the gun around and offered it butt-first to Lisa.
“I believe this will be your weapon,” he said. “You might want to pick up a shoulder-holster, too.”
Lisa nodded and grabbed the pistol. “Thanks. I’ll do that.”
Jason appeared and picked up a box off the floor, set it on the table, then reached in and pulled out what looked like a smartphone and a Bluetooth wireless earpiece.
“This is the Android phone used by Army Special Forces,” he said. “It runs the new Tactical Situational Awareness Application Suite, or TactSA, works in low connectivity areas and utilizes an encrypted peer-to-peer network. This phone does a hell of a lot more than we’re going to use it for, so don’t worry about figuring out all the goodies for now. Just make sure it’s turned on and ready to go.”
Fredrichs handed everyone a phone and waited as the group looked their gadgets over.
“I’d prefer my own men to carry the modified M16, but the rest of you can choose whichever weapon you think you’re most comfortable with—preferably one that you’ve used before, since we don’t really have time for any training. Once you have your weapons and ammo, meet me outside the armory so I can put you with your group leaders.”
CHAPTER 71
The assault/rescue team stood outside the armory, armed to the hilt and anxious to get the operation underway. Lisa had three magazines of eighteen rounds each for her Beretta, confident that would be more than enough. At least, she hoped it would be. Her kinky hair was wrapped up in a bun and tucked under a black ball cap and she wore jeans, sneakers and a T-shirt. It was hot and she felt nervous, but otherwise okay. She was thankful the morning sickness had subsided.
Lisa noticed that the other team members had either gone for the M4A1 or the Mossberg. Though it would be nice to have the extra firepower, Lisa was glad not to have to haul around a heavy carbine or shotgun. She had pretty good aim and could pull the pistol from her holster about as quickly as she could raise a shotgun.
Jason and two of his men carried the modified MK16 with grenade launcher while the other three carried the M4A1. All six SOG members carried Berettas in case they ran out of ammo or lost their primary weapon. Lisa was pretty sure they also carried knives and knew how to use them. Besides the Android phones, everyone on the team wore Dragon Skin ballistic vests and had backpacks loaded with food, water, extra ammo and gas masks in case they had to use tear gas. Each of the SOG team members wore special MTM Pro Ops Navigator Tracking watches equipped with GPS tracking, latitude and longitude display and practically everything but invisibility cloaks. The entire team was in civilian clothes and, except for the artillery, looked like they might be a group of Goth tourists.
Jason faced the team in the passageway, eyeing each of them in turn as he spoke.
“I’ll be the first to admit this is a weird assignment,” he said. “I’ve never done anything like this and I’m sure none of my men have either. We’re used to hunting humans, not monsters, so there are bound to be some unknown variables that will arise. I just want everyone to be alert and aware. Also keep in mind that although her ‘minions’ or whatever you want to call them appear to have run off, be alert. They may still be around.”
The passageway was silent.
“Alright, Chin, I want you to pair off with Ms. Singleton and when we meet up with Hunter and our other operative, I want them to join you, as well. Slater, you and Commander Crane will pair off. Harrison, you go with Commander MacIntyre. Anderson, pair off with the captain. Samson goes with Johnson and Blakely, you’ll be with me. Remember, this is a CIA operation, so SOG personnel are in charge—you will take orders from them and they will take orders from me. Whoever finds Lilith or one of her accomplices will contact me and the rest of the team and apprise us of your situation. Make sure to keep at least ten feet from the other team members at all times. Everyone got that?”
Grunts in the affirmative and a couple of “ooh-ras” erupted from the group.
“Our first objective will be the apartment on Park Terrace. Alright. Let’s hit it,” Fredrichs said, then turned and headed toward the bow and into the fray.
CHAPTER 72
The rotor from the Sikorsky SH-60 Sea Hawk helicopter that awaited the team on the Ford’s flight deck created a mini-hurricane that threatened to push Lisa over backward, but she managed to make her way across the deck sandwiched between the line of men without losing her footing. Though they were wearing hearing protection and goggles, Lisa was thankful they didn’t have to wear the float coats, which would add considerable bulk to her already bulging backpack and sidearm.
The team would be dropped some distance away from the objective, in the middle of Columbia University’s Baker Field in North Manhattan. From there, it would be a short walk to 50 Park Terrace East, where Lilith’s hideout was located. Lisa doubted very much that they would find anyone there, but the team agreed that was the best place to start, just to find clues if nothing else.
Across the harbor Lisa saw the white fiberglass hull of a half-sunken yacht sticking up out of the water. The pier next to the Ford, where the USS Intrepid was moored, looked like it had been bombed. The buildings that stood there were nothing more than shacks without roofs and several cars were huddled up at one end as if huge waves had pushed them there.
The skies were clear and the weather mild, but the temperature was already close to ninety, making her back sweat where the backpack lay up against it. Being from North Carolina, Lisa was used to hot, humid weather, but she still didn’t like it.
She looked out over the city and saw helicopters in the distance patrolling around the perimeter that had been marked off-limits for this mission. The CIA had it locked-down tight—tight enough, she hoped. Beyond that, far over the northeast horizon she saw a column of black smoke that she knew was the result of the missile that had come from the Ford. She wondered how many people had been killed. Locals were still filtering back into their neighborhoods, so with any luck there were either low casualties or none at all.
Lisa couldn’t fathom how another human being could be so cold and ruthless as to send a guided missile into the middle of a highly populated city. Then she remembered that Lilith was no longer human, maybe never had been.
Lisa ducked her head under the helicopter’s rotor as she waited her turn to enter. The SH-60, which usually carried a crew of three or four, would only carry two this time in order to add a twelfth passenger. They needed all the room they could get and it wasn’t feasible to have another helo carry one extra person or split into two groups.
The person in front of her climbed into the machine and Lisa stepped up behind him, then found her place in one of the seats and strapped in. She felt herself getting nauseous again and fought the feeling back with all her concentration. Lisa was not about to let her morning sickness destroy her chance of going on this mission and seeing Hunter again.
She felt relieved as the nausea finally abated.
There were not many windows inside the chopper and everything was painted the usual gun-metal gray. It was somewhat claustrophobic, her elbows touching people on both sides. It reminded her of the inside of the Greyhound they had flown in on and it was just about as noisy. She pulled her straps tight and sat back in her seat. Lisa had never flown in a helicopter before and wondered how it would feel on takeoff.
She soon found out that it was a lot like being on a quickly rising elevator and had to slap a hand over her mouth to keep from retching on the seat in front of her as they headed out over New York.
CHAPTER 73
The beast that was Lilith could smell the scent of human blood all around her as she walked down Park Terrace on all fours. Though she was still primarily bipedal, Lilith found she could move much more quickly on four legs. The sun beat down on her fur-covered skin from above, but Lilith didn’t feel it—she was hyper-focused on one thing—Hunter. Even with all the other smells around, Hunter’s particular scent was like a beacon calling to her. She could smell that bitch that was with him, as well. It was a good thing she had trusted her instincts about that woman and not let her too deeply into the organization. Gabe had been useful enough, but now she had proven to be a liability, one that needed to be terminated. Lilith would delight in that—her blood would taste especially good.