The Darkest Corner

by Liliana Hart

  She finally turned to look at Tess. “Good to see you’re settling in, Ms. Sherman.”

  “Thank you,” Tess said simply, her voice neutral.

  It was never a good sign when Eve’s voice went from all-business to friendly. Deacon didn’t think friendly was in her DNA.

  “I’m glad our little experiment worked out. I’ve decided you might be more use in the D.C. office. We can arrange a transfer once this mission is complete.”

  “No, thank you,” Tess said automatically, the ghost of a smirk hinting around that wicked, wicked mouth that seemed to have been created for the sole purpose of driving Deacon crazy.

  Eve’s smile was cold, and then she looked back at Deacon. “Didn’t you tell her it’s in her best interest to never tell me no?”

  She didn’t give him a chance to answer. The screen went black and the air was thick with unspoken words.

  Tess’s face was red with anger, and he shook his head when it looked like she was going to make a comment. They were all on the same team, but things had a way of getting back to Eve. They all turned back to their work, Deacon trying to forget the threat that had lurked in Eve’s voice.

  “I think I’ve got something,” Dante said a few minutes later. The three big screens on the wall flickered on, and multiple views of satellite imaging came on.

  “This area didn’t rank too high on my radar the past few weeks because it’s a high-traffic construction zone. They’ve got bulldozers and dividers blocking the entire way around the area. But I just checked with city records and there’s nothing scheduled for construction, and hasn’t been for a couple of years.”

  “It sure looks like something is going on there,” Axel said.

  “What are we looking at?” Deacon asked.

  Dante tapped a few keys so the image became a 360-digital view. “This is what used to be Texas Stadium. Just north of where we are now. When the Cowboys moved to the new stadium in Arlington several years ago, this one was set for demolition. Notice the industrial area that surrounds the empty space where the stadium once stood. There’s an old train depot, and several large warehouses. That’s where the thermal vision is lighting up the screen like Christmas. When I compare it to the thermal vision from a month ago, you’ll see a noticeable increase in activity from the past few weeks.”

  Deacon whistled as he watched the time lapse of the satellite and heat sensors. “Like Christmas,” he agreed. “That’s a lot of semi trucks going inside the warehouses.”

  “But they’re not coming out,” Elias said. “They’re outfitting them. There’s got to be at least twelve of them.”

  “Thirteen that I counted,” Dante corrected. “It’s a good location now that I’ve started digging. The area has been in limbo since before the demolition. The developers don’t really know what to do with it, so it’s mostly forgotten about. The city itself is so busy no one is going to stop to check whether or not there’s supposed to be construction. People just follow the detour signs and go on about their lives. Construction in this area is par for the course, so it’s not like they’re not used to it.”

  “Does satellite give us any visuals?” Deacon asked.

  “I’m running a cross-comparison now with facial recognition. But this is the clincher.” Dante used the keyboard to zoom in on the screen on the left. The men had looked like ants from a distance, but the closer they got the more he could see what Dante was talking about.

  “Automatic weapons,” Elias said. “Definitely something in those warehouses that is worth protecting.”

  Deacon stared at the screens and started running scenarios through his head. It would be an almost impossible mission.

  “We’re one man short.” Axel read his mind.

  “No you’re not,” Levi said, coming into the room. “I’m more than field ready. You all know it. I’m tired of being kept here like a prisoner on her orders. She might as well have let me die.”

  “You’re right,” Deacon said, not caring that Eve would probably be pissed.

  He wasn’t sure why exactly Eve was holding Levi back, but it was almost as if it were some kind of punishment—the way she forced him into testing and recovery early, only to have him do grunt work when he was as well trained and operational as anyone on the team.

  “We need to move in tonight,” he said. “The way traffic has picked up on-site makes me think they’re getting ready to roll out. They’ll need time to drive to their destinations. What’s happening this weekend?”

  “The United Nations summit is the big one,” Axel said. “But it’s concentrated in New York. It’s scheduled to start Sunday and finish up Monday. It’s also the anniversary of 9/11. There are several large memorial services and concerts planned from state to state, and they’re expecting attendance to be in the thousands. Most of them have been turned into fundraisers for families of fallen officers and members of the fire department, so they’re all-day events.”

  “That has potential,” Deacon commented. “And it seems like something a man with Egorov’s ego might attempt. To wipe out the events of 9/11 with his own day of terror.”

  “It’s also the start of the NFL season,” Axel added. “Twenty-six teams playing around the country to sold-out stadiums.”

  “Twenty-six teams,” Deacon said. “Thirteen stadiums. Thirteen trucks in those warehouses.”

  “If that’s where they’re going, they’ll need to pull out within thirty-six hours,” Elias said. “There are rules and regulations for when things from visiting teams have to be delivered to the stadiums.”

  “What’s the projected casualty count?” Deacon asked.

  Axel pulled up the data. “If they hit every major NFL stadium in America with sold-out crowds, you’re looking at a potential casualty rate of close to a million people.”

  “Jesus,” Elias said. “Catastrophic.”

  “Right, and it doesn’t change the fact that there are still only five of us to stop all those trucks from leaving the warehouses.”

  “I guess I’m not completely understanding,” Tess finally said. “The five of you are planning to invade these warehouses, with armed guards, and stop thirteen trucks from leaving the grounds that are supposedly all carrying a chemical weapon that kills almost instantly?”

  “That pretty much covers it.” Elias grinned. “Crazy, huh?”

  “It’s insane,” she said incredulously.

  “Five is all we need,” Deacon told her. “A highly skilled five-man team can take down an entire army if it’s done right.”

  “And what exactly is the right way to do it?” she asked.

  The men all stared at her silently.

  Tess nodded. “Yep. That’s what I thought.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  There was no relief from a Texas summer, not even at three in the morning. The heat was thick with humidity, and there was only a sliver of moon and a sprinkle of stars in the black sky. The lake was black and still, not a ripple since there wasn’t a breeze.

  It had taken twenty-four hours of planning and preparation. To make sure The Shadow knew of their equipment needs and the possible cleanup opportunities. They had four days until the world as they knew it would virtually end.

  Deacon felt the vibrations of the stealth Black Hawk helicopter in the air before he heard the buzz of the rotor blades, and he watched as it touched down in the middle of the grassy field near the lake. He looked back toward the hidden entrance of the tunnel, thinking about Tess still curled up in bed, content as a cat. More than the memory of the way she looked, it was what she’d said as he’d leaned down to kiss her good-bye.

  “I love you.”

  It was incredible how three little words could have such an impact. He’d gone a lifetime without saying those words to a woman. His relationships had never lasted more than a few months. They usually ended whenever he had to go on the next assignment. He’d liked those women—respected them—and enjoyed them. But he’d never loved any one of them. Not like he did
Tess. The sincerity of her words had left him speechless, and he’d only been able to hold onto her a little longer—kiss her a little deeper.

  “Ah, that sight never gets old,” Elias said, interrupting his thoughts.

  “Up close and personal,” he said. “Let’s roll.”

  Their faces were streaked with black paint, and they wore leather gloves and balaclavas, along with helmets. They’d be rappelling from more than a hundred and fifty feet in the air.

  They loaded up silently and hooked themselves into the rappelling gear, checking the nylon ropes and the attachments. They tested their comm units and gave the thumbs-up. Then it was go-time.

  The helicopter went straight up, and Deacon’s stomach dropped out from under him with a sense of adrenaline. It was always his favorite part of the ride. The doors were open, and the cool night air rushed in as they ascended higher and traveled across the city. A much better ascent than going up in the closed space of the cargo plane.

  Egorov had kept nighttime lights to a minimum, hoping to keep his operation hidden, so when they arrived at the warehouses only the yellow glow of a few spotlights could be seen. They hovered high above the darkest building.

  Deacon looked to Elias since he was in charge of all the ropes—the rappel master—and Elias tugged on each length of nylon, checking it one more time. Deacon tossed his deployment bag out the side of the helicopter and watched the rope fall to the roof of the closest warehouse. The others each did the same in turn.

  Elias gave the nod and Deacon moved into position, sitting in the open doorway, his legs swinging out. When Elias gave the signal, he turned his body so his feet rested against the door frame and he faced the others. His left hand went to the small of his back where the brake was located. Axel mirrored him on the other side of the chopper.

  On Elias’s go signal, they both pushed off with their feet, and the rope slid through Deacon’s hand as he sped to the ground. He saw the deployment bags from the others drop down next to his and knew they were only seconds behind him. He braked and slowed his descent when he was almost to the roof of the warehouse.

  And then his feet touched down silently and he stood still, waiting for the rope to drop after him. He wound it up and put it in his deployment bag as the others landed also, and then a few seconds later, Elias dropped down next to them and the Black Hawk was gone. They removed their helmets and replaced them with black balaclavas.

  They each had a target and an assignment, and they scattered off the roof and down to the ground, finding a place to stash their deployment bags. If they were lucky, Egorov or Levkin would be somewhere inside the warehouses, getting ready to send off their shipments. If they were really lucky, they’d both be inside.

  Deacon waited in the shadows behind the warehouse he’d been assigned to. The noise had picked up from inside and there was plenty of movement. They were getting ready to deploy the trucks and head to their destinations. Deacon had his knife in his left hand and his right hand free. He moved behind several stacked crates, keeping to the shadows.

  The warehouses were equipped with large doors on the front and backside. Big enough for a couple of eighteen-wheelers to drive in one side and out the other. The back door was closed, but there was a smaller, standard-size door that two men walked through.

  They both wore jeans and T-shirts, and were probably somewhere in their early forties. They immediately lit up cigarettes and began to speak in Russian. Or at least one of them did. The other grunted on occasion and sucked down his cigarette as fast as he could, and then he lit up another.

  Deacon caught Levkin’s name and listened a little closer. He knew how to be still and wait for the right moment to strike. Just a little closer. The man who was sucking down cigarettes was nervous. He moved constantly as his friend talked, and if he backed up just a little more he’d be within reach.

  Levkin was inside one of the warehouses. Apparently he was a real tyrant now that they were in the end game, and everyone was pissed their payments had been delayed. Egorov was supposed to have showed up that morning to pay them in cash, but he’d never come. And the men were getting restless. A lot was at stake.

  The chain smoker had finished another cigarette, and Deacon could tell they were about to go back inside. They both moved toward the door and he came up behind them. He slid his knife neatly between the chain smoker’s third and fourth ribs, pushing up as he did so to pierce the heart. It was the quietest and least messy way to kill someone. Deacon withdrew his knife and moved to the next one.

  The other man had started to turn to see why his friend was on the ground, but it was too late. Deacon snapped his neck and then wiped his knife on the man’s shirt, cleaning the blood off. He dragged both bodies behind the crates and then moved to the door. He needed to find Levkin.

  There was a small window in the metal door, and Deacon peeked through it to see if he could get a head count. There were two eighteen-wheelers inside. One of the cabs was painted bright orange, and the trailer said “Broncos” down the side, with an image of the team logo. The other truck cab was painted navy and the trailer belonged to the Seattle Seahawks. Or at least they made a good impression of it.

  The backs of the trailers were open, and he could see the equipment being loaded inside. Bags and bags of footballs, extra pads, sideline equipment. The preparation for this event had been months, if not years, in the making. They had everything they needed to get any explosives and XTNC-50 into the stadiums.

  He counted six men inside the warehouse, and all of them were busy. No one even paid attention as he slipped through the door and kept to the perimeter so he could hide behind whatever cover he could find. He dropped whoever he came in contact with, making his way toward the two men talking at the front.

  He recognized Ivan Levkin. He was a tall, thin man. Almost stork-like in appearance. His blond hair was fine and fell in wisps around a face that only a mother could love. He resembled a vulture—bony face, crooked nose, and prominent Adam’s apple.

  The comm in Deacon’s ear buzzed as Elias came on and gave the all-clear for warehouse number one. It wasn’t long after that Levi gave his all-clear. They indicated that they’d move together to the next warehouse and repeat the process.

  Deacon didn’t dare speak. He was completely focused on Levkin, who seemed beyond stressed.

  “We don’t have time for your tantrums, Josef,” Levkin spat in Russian. “We must leave here. By this time tomorrow this place will be swarming with cops and God knows who else.”

  “I want my money. Egorov promised we’d be paid,” Josef said, not budging.

  “And you will be. After everything has been moved. Remember that if the plan is interrupted, you’ll be getting no money at all.”

  “I don’t trust you,” he said. “Egorov either.”

  Levkin shrugged. “I don’t really care. There are enough explosives and XTNC-50 in these warehouses to reduce the entire city to dust. It wasn’t the goal, but it’ll work in a pinch. Your family lives here, right?”

  “Fuck you,” Josef said. “Tell Egorov I’m not going down for him. If that money isn’t in my hand before we leave, then you can find another driver. I’m not doing this for charity.”

  “Right, right,” Levkin said, his smile cold. He pulled a weapon from the small of his back and fired point-blank at Josef.

  It was one less man Deacon would have to kill.

  “Who is going to drive your truck now?” Deacon called out in Russian. He was hidden behind the cab of the truck and well out of the way when Levkin turned and fired.

  “Who is there?” he answered. “Is that you, Vasily?”

  “I think Vasily is dead,” Deacon said. “They all are.”

  Levkin turned in all directions, looking for the others. But there was no one. “Who are you?” he called out.

  Deacon stepped out from behind the truck to face him, and to his surprise, Levkin broke out into a grin.

  “Ahh, he said you would come,” he said.
“But I did not believe him. I thought his trap too trivial for one such as you. You are Deacon Tucker. You were CIA. I’ve read about you. Operation Quantum Leap was very impressive.”

  “Thank you,” Deacon said, making sure nothing in his voice betrayed his anger. “It seems you know as much about me as I know about you.”

  “More, more, my friend. Much more. You see, Yevorovich’s email that your team hacked into was set up specifically for those fishing to find out more about us. Instead of you finding out about Yevorovich, the tables were turned and we were able to find out all about you.”

  “I’m clear,” Axel said in his comm unit.

  “All clear,” Dante said. “Heading to rendezvous point.”

  “How did you know we were coming for you?” Deacon asked.

  “We’ve been linked into your satellite and communications systems. You are not the only ones who have top-notch technology.”

  “But it’s not my men who are dead, and it’s not my shipments that are going to be stuck here so they can be confiscated by Homeland Security.”

  Levkin took his eyes off Deacon to look around again, searching for his men and listening for the normal sounds coming from outside. There was nothing. Just silence.

  “You’re going to want to drop that weapon before my friend standing behind you breaks your wrist.”

  Levkin turned his head and saw Axel there, and then he turned back to face Deacon. “You cannot beat me. You cannot win against those who are willing to sacrifice it all.”

  Before Levkin could blink, Axel had snapped his wrist and the gun fell to the floor.

  A voice buzzed in Deacon’s comm again and said, “We’ve got a problem.” He recognized Dante’s upper-crust British accent.

  He turned off the mute button in his comm unit and said, “What’s wrong?”

  “There are only twelve trucks here. The thirteenth is long gone.”

  Deacon looked at Levkin and said, “I’m going to give you one chance to tell me where the truck that’s already left is going. And then I’m going to start putting bullets in you.”