by D. B. Goodin
“They are here!” the engineer’s voice said in a shrill tone.
The kid held the gun toward the ascending men, who held automatic-looking weapons. Norris grabbed the gun, then shot the closet man in the face. Two other men retreated. He shot toward them, then holstered the weapon when he was sure they were gone. He ascended the half-flight of stairs that led to his pack.
“Keep you heads down,” Norris said.
Norris grabbed a black box with two metal posts with oversized knobs. He loosened the knobs enough to wrap the wires around the posts. After he tightened the screws, he looked around. More men were ascending to their location.
It’s now or never, Stew, he told himself.
“Get your heads down,” Norris yelled.
The group of young engineers obeyed.
He huddled against Nigel and the frightened kids who had braved one of the most secure facilities in the United States, then pressed the button. The noise was deafening. Norris looked up to see a missing door; part of the wall was missing, as well.
I guess I used too much explosive.
“Move!” Norris shouted.
The group of young engineers rushed past, heading toward the smoking doorframe. Norris grabbed the automatic weapon his victim had dropped. The men kept coming, and this time they were carrying shields. Norris started shooting anyway. One of the bullets ricocheted off one of the shields and hit one of his legs. White-hot pain stung his shin; he could still move it, so his shielded boots must have absorbed some damage. Two of the shielded men were mere feet away. They were awkwardly trying to hold their shields and weapons as they climbed the stairs. Then Norris flung himself at the men, both of whom fell on their backs. He flung away their shields, unsheathed his knife, and then started stabbing the men. He didn’t know how many times he’d stabbed them, but the wall and floor were spattered with blood. He snapped out of it when he heard one of the kids scream something.
“The helicopter is here!”
It took Norris longer than normal to climb to the blown door. Pain shot through his leg as he moved it. The engineers were ascending a ladder attached to the helicopter.
I didn’t know the Dark Angels had a Blackhawk.
The massive satellite dishes on the roof prevented the helicopter from getting any closer. Behind them, a small group of men filed out of the blown doorframe and started shooting at the helicopter as Norris made it to the ladder. He freed a grenade from his belt, pulled the pin, and then threw the explosive in an arc that seemed to be too high.
I hope I calculated correctly—
“Argh,” Norris screamed as bullets peppered his armor. It was if someone was hitting him with a hammer.
Moments later, the grenade exploded just above the men’s heads. Body parts and gore splattered the area where the guards had been. Norris hung on as the chopper moved away from the building. Seconds later they were flying over the East River. Norris barely made it to the interior of the chopper as it accelerated quickly into the fall evening air.
Minutes earlier
As Gerald Scott piloted his chopper across the Manhattan skyline, he put on his aviator glasses to block out the glare of the late afternoon sun. His dream of becoming a full member of the Dark Angles was becoming a reality.
“Get ready back there,” Gerald said.
“I was born ready,” Seymour said.
Gerald didn’t care much for his passenger, but he had helped him get into the Dark Angels and that had to account for something.
There it is!
The windowless building gave the Manhattan skyline an eerie look, as it was the only building without a light source. As the sun dipped under the western horizon, many buildings already had their internal structures illuminated from various light sources. The building he flew toward was quite the contrast; it looked like a black hole in comparison to everything else.
They better be ready—I won’t be able to stay long.
Moments later he saw several people on the roof of the windowless monstrosity.
“Lower the rope, Seymour,” Gerald said.
Seymour untied the wench that controlled the rope and begun to lower it.
Gerald got as close as possible to the rooftop of the windowless building. He had to be careful because there were many antennas and satellite dishes on the roof, which made any expeditious extraction impossible.
Gerald switched frequencies, trying to gauge if he had been spotted. The radio was dead.
Something must be jamming the signal.
As the engineers began climbing the ladder, Gerald heard screams. He looked out the window and one of the engineers was falling to his death.
“Someone’s shooting at us—take evasive action,” Gerald said.
“I’m on it,” Seymour said.
Seymour opened one of the back seats in the helicopter and removed a semiautomatic weapon. He checked the clip and chamber. He looked toward the rooftop for signs of an attacker.
“Eleven o’clock,” Gerald said.
Seymour started firing in the eleven o’clock position at another helicopter. Moments later, an explosion illuminated his target. Seymour helped the engineers into the helicopter.
“We have wounded,” an engineer said.
Seymour looked down. Apparently one of the engineers had been shot, and his arm no longer worked. He lowered a harness attached to a steel cable. Norris helped him into it and hoisted the kid to the helicopter.
“Thank you,” Nigel said to Seymour.
Seymour nodded.
“Norris is on the ladder—let’s get out of here,” Seymour said.
Gerald flew eastbound out of Manhattan. Moments later, Norris hoisted himself into the helicopter.
“That was too close. You should warn Titus. All hell is breaking loose in there,” Norris said.
“My radio is dead—it’s either out, or someone is jamming us,” Gerald said.
“Was the malware—or worm, as you call it—active?” Norris asked.
“It was active the minute it was uploaded. Anything that worm crawls into will be infected,” an engineer said.
“Any computer?”
“No—the worm exploits a flaw in the High Tower OS subsystem. Since most of the world’s computers use that operating system, it’s a matter of time before everything is infected.”
The radio came to life.
“What is your status, flying angel?” a male voice asked.
“Identify,” Gerald said.
“I’m the one with the cold breeze on a summer’s night.”
“Titus?”
“Affirmative.”
“Heading to the roost, one casualty.”
“Sally was taken,” Nigel said.
“Correction, one casualty and an MIA,” Gerald said.
“That’s regrettable. Damien will want to break his daughter out. I will prepare myself in case he needs persuasion on why that’s a bad idea. I’m en route via the underground,” Titus said.
“See you soon, old friend,” Gerald said.
Chapter 23
Despite its age, the Bromwick had many amenities, and the conference room was no exception. As the late afternoon gave way to evening, the conference room glowed with blue and white lights interior designers called mood lighting. After several days of meetings, the principal members of the Cabal looked exhausted.
“We have accomplished a lot over the past two days, and regrettably, tomorrow will be our final day together before we test our delivery system. I want to ensure everything is perfect before we proceed,” Mr. Chen said.
Ezekiel barged into the room. “You all should see this.”
He activated the projector systems and brought up one of the local news channels. A massive skyscraper with no windows appeared. Spotlights shone on the monolithic structure; the shadows and impending darkness made it look more imposing.
“What is this place?” Mr. Tage said.
“It is where all the information we require gets spilled
, like the lifeblood of a wounded solider,” Mr. Chen said.
“You knew about this?” Dahlia asked.
“It wasn’t supposed to happen until our testing of the malware was complete, but our parallel strike will be even more effective now.”
“You knew about it, and kept it from us?”
Like a viper, Dahlia moved in for the kill. Ezekiel held a massive hand out, trying to stop her.
“I knew you were fighting a war on multiple fronts, but you should have let us in on this one,” Mr. Tage said to Chen.
“This is an outrage! You have broken our trust. I demand you fill us in on everything—no more secrets,” the Sultan said.
Mr. Chen held a hand out. “Calm down, I thought you would be happy at the news. Project Reckoning has begun.”
“And what about getting the material needed for the cyborgs?” Dr. Ash said.
“We strike the Ohio Valley Nuclear Reactor tomorrow. The news of this dark data hub breach will be all over the news for days. When they hear the news that the facility has been spying on them for decades, the public outrage will be palpable. We will steal the bismuth material we need to ensure the creation of polonium. Just make sure you all are ready,” Mr. Chen said.
“I already have a dozen cyborgs waiting nearby. I didn’t have enough skin to make them perfect, so some metal might show in places, but they are immune to radiation. We just need to make sure the hack gets deployed,” Dr. Ash said.
“Speaking of which, how is our young hacker doing?” Mr. Tage said.
“Which one?” Mr. Chen asked.
“Freeman is still on for the test, and we have Nigel waiting to assist,” Dahlia said.
Sally Wilde sat in a small featureless interrogation room deep inside the legendary windowless building. A table attached to a wall and two chairs were the only furnishings. Her right arm was handcuffed to a ring embedded in the nearby wall; its elevated position made her arm ache from the lack of circulation.
I have done it. Father would be proud. I just hope the stories of the government spooks are not real. I hope Nigel and the other engineers got out—
The only door to the room opened. An older man with a thick stack of papers entered. He dropped the bundle on the table. The commotion interrupted Sally’s train of thought.
This guy is trying to scare me. No way my capture has generated that much paper.
The man was dressed in a typical black suit that screamed FBI agent.
“You don’t seem very comfortable,” the agent said, looking at her restraint.
He placed a key in front of her. Sally stared at it for a long moment.
“Go ahead,” he said, “make yourself comfortable. I’ll wait.”
The man watched her every move. After a moment, Sally grabbed the key with her free hand. She almost dropped it, but she straightened it with her mouth, then unlocked the cuff from her right hand. The agent watched the handcuffs dangle on the hook.
“My name is Agent Ralston of the FBI, and I’m here to help you, Sally.”
Yeah, I bet! You want to know where my father is!
“What’s in the stack?” Sally asked.
Agent Ralston placed a pack of cigarettes on the table. Sally was drawn to them like a fish to water.
“Cooperate, and maybe I will let you have a smoke. Heavens knows I need one.”
He took out one of the cigarettes, put it in his mouth, and lit up. He blew the smoke toward the ceiling so it wouldn’t get in her face. Sally realized she was staring at the cigarette. She forced herself to look away and licked her lips.
“Isn’t it illegal to smoke in government facilities?”
“It would be if we were sitting in one.”
“Wait—isn’t this windowless monstrosity containing a secret surveillance operation?”
Agent Ralston laughed. “Did you father tell you that?”
He’s a Fed—I’m sure he knows all about Daddy!
“Who owns the building, then?” she asked.
“Didn’t you notice the NET logo signs as you snuck in? This building belongs to Northeastern Telecommunications, but there are government agents working within the confines of these walls.”
Sally shifted in her seat, trying to find a more comfortable position. She hated to admit how much she needed a smoke.
I should have never taken up that filthy habit—another consequence of my sweet sixteen party, I suppose.
Agent Ralston pushed the cigarettes a few inches in her direction.
“I’m a minor child,” she said. “The only evidence you have is trespassing. Soon you will need to let me go.”
“Yes, you are a minor, but at the end of the month you turn eighteen. I’m sure you don’t want to spend it in a cell.”
“I’m not saying anything.”
Sally crossed her arms and gave Ralston a defiant look. His eyes moved to her right arm.
“Interesting tattoo,” Ralston said. “Where did you get it? Those yellow eyes are creepy!”
Sally looked surprised at the sudden change of subject. She examined the tattoo on her forearm as if noticing it for the first time. “Daddy calls me his crimson dragon.”
Agent Ralston took another drag, then used the bottom portion of the table to extinguish it.
“Come on, Sally, you don’t need to protect the group you work for. I can get your sentence reduced to five years from the twenty-to-life you are facing. And, when you get out, you will have a government job waiting for you. Don’t you want to put those hacking skills to good use?”
Sally’s eyes widened. “Twenty years for trespassing?”
“That’s only one of your charges. The district attorney for the southern district wants to charge you with domestic terrorism. That carries a minimum of twenty years without the possibility of parole. I know you want to make the smart choice here.”
“I don’t get it! Why the harsh punishment for trespassing on a non-government facility?”
“Telecommunications companies were reclassified as critical infrastructure more than twenty years ago. We consider an attack on one of these facilities an attack on the United States. I will give you time to think on it.”
Agent Ralston took the handcuffs, cigarettes, and the enormous stack of papers and then headed toward the door.
“Wait!” Sally called.
Agent Ralston turned to face her.
“Aren’t you going to cuff me again?”
“That won’t be necessary,” he replied, “we have eyes on you. Just think of all the good you can do.”
He paused for emphasis, then left.
Nigel watched as the sun set over Manhattan; the view from the helicopter would have been pleasant under other circumstances.
People got hurt today, and it’s my fault.
The spotlights that shone on the windowless building reminded Nigel of one of many World War II movies he and his brother Ralphie would watch together. All of that seemed a lifetime ago.
“You did well, kid. Welcome to the Dark Angels,” Norris said as he gave Nigel a pat on his good shoulder.
Nigel grunted as a fresh wave of pain shot through his arm. It seemed to settle in his shoulder.
Norris examined Nigel.
“You’ve been hit,” he said. “Take your jacket off.”
Nigel screamed as he attempted to take the garment off.
“Our physician will attend to you the moment we land.”
Nigel’s vision faded.
“Stay with me, kid.”
Norris took something out of a white plastic box, and then shoved it into Nigel’s good arm. A jolt of adrenaline shot through his system. For a moment he forgot all about the pain. Norris removed his jacket, then used the supplies in the white box to bandage the wound.
“You’re lucky, the bullet went through. I’ve stopped the bleeding for now. But you will need medical attention.”
Nigel heard the words. The combination of the adrenaline and whatever else Norris shot into him was having an
effect.
It took less than an hour to get to his destination, but it felt like an eternity.
I’ll be with you soon, Jet . . . I hope!
Later that evening
Nigel awoke in a hospital bed, but he wasn’t in a hospital.
“Good, you’re awake,” a man said.
Nigel couldn’t see the man clearly due to the overhead positioning of the lights, as well as the smoke emanating from the man.
“Who are you?” Nigel asked.
“I’m Damien Wilde, but my friends call me Dragon.”
Nigel looked around the room. He could hear several people but couldn’t make out any of the words. He could also hear the engines of vehicles and aircraft.
“You’re safe for the time being, but we will need to move out soon. If Chen hasn’t sent for you soon, then you will come with us.”
“Where?”
“I’m not going to divulge that information just yet—not all the Angels are accounted for.”
“Sally—she was captured. I tried to get to her, but the men . . .” Nigel trailed off.
“I know, son. It’s not your fault. She knew the risks. She’s a good soldier; she will not give us up.”
“Thank you for attending to my injuries.”
“It’s the least we could do, but we should be thanking you.”
“For what?”
“You took a bullet for the Angels, and we don’t forget our friends. If you ever need us, we will be there.”
The man gave Nigel something on a gold chain. Nigel noticed the man was in his mid-forties and had an eye patch. His sleeveless black shirt revealed a tattoo of an enormous snake fighting with a dragon.
Nigel held up the gold chain; attached to it was a pendant that resembled an angel made of obsidian.
“If you ever find yourself in need, just show that emblem to any Dark Angel and they will die for you. You are one of us now,” Damien said as he left.
Moments later, Norris and several engineers came to check on Nigel.