Warnick took a seat across from us and began talking softly to Ryan.
“So, Warnick,” I said. “What’s the plan?” I gestured towards the others. “I mean, this is it, right?”
“Dave, I know what you were hoping for. But there was no way I was going to get authorization for a full-on assault. This place is heavily guarded and we’d incur too many casualties.”
“So what will we do?” Vlad said.
“This is going to be a covert operation.”
I became intrigued. “That means you must have intel. But how . . .”
I looked at Ziggy, who was sitting off by himself. Perfect. They had found themselves a nerd. This guy probably spent all of high school locked in a basement, playing Xbox and hacking the power grid.
“That’s where Ryan comes in,” Warnick said.
“Wait,” I said. “Ryan’s your guy?”
“Bet you thought it was Ziggy,” Hen said, grinning.
“I just assumed . . .”
“They call him Ziggy for a reason,” Berta said, pointing rudely.
The others laughed. Ziggy looked up from the drawing he was sketching in the sand with a twig. “What?”
“Here’s the t’ing,” Ryan said. “My brother works in our security operations center in Dublin. And he’s a first-rate hacker. He can break into any system.”
“Russians are pretty good,” Vlad said.
“Em, when the Russians get tired o’ pullin’ their wires, they go to Michael.”
“How is he not in prison then?” I said.
“Too valuable to Black Dragon. When we learned what youse are tryin’ to do out there, I asked Michael to send us everything he had on Baseborn Identity Research. I’ve got schematics, codes, the lot.”
“So we’re just going to walk in?”
“We’ve got a guy on their security team who’s going to help us,” Warnick said.
“And why would he do that?”
Ryan looked at each of us for dramatic effect, then smiled mysteriously. “Michael did a thorough background check on every guard in that place. Turns out this one likes little boys.”
“Ew!” Maritza and Berta said at the same time, looking at each other.
“Indeed. Michael found his user name and password on Tor. We’ve got pictures, videos . . . We own him.”
“Does he know where they are keeping my sister?” Vlad said.
“Yes, he’s confirmed it wit’ us. She’s being held in a private suite in the hospital wing.”
Vlad got to his feet painfully. “Let’s go.”
Warnick raised a hand. “Not so fast.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s oh-nineteen-hundred now. We’re due to meet Erck at oh-two-hundred.”
“Erck,” the old man said. “He’s German.”
“The facility is located approximately ten miles due east. At midnight we’ll drive to the halfway point. Then we’ll hike the rest of the way. With full gear on, that should take us around an hour.”
“That means light weapons only,” I said.
“Correct.”
“And what happens when we get inside?” Vlad said.
“Erck will lead us to your sister,” Ryan said. “Security is light at that time. He told us a lot of the guards end up sleepin’ when they should be workin’.”
“What about the grey-suits?” I said. Ryan looked at me curiously. “The agents working with Hellborn.”
“‘Hellborn’. I like that. Erck warned us about them wankers. He said that if we see any agents we should kill them. Feck!” He reached down and picked up a scorpion by the tail. Tossed it into the fire. “I hate scorpions.”
I turned to Vlad. “Five miles is a long way. Will you be able to—”
“I am fine.”
I knew firsthand what a gunshot wound felt like. I also knew that Vlad would do whatever was necessary to save his sister. He glanced at Berta, who turned away quickly. For a moment I wondered why she was acting like a school girl. Then I realized. She was into Russians.
“I want to come with you,” Zwick said, breaking the silence.
Warnick pursed his lips and looked at me. “I can’t allow it.”
“These men killed my son. I don’t care what happens to me. I have to do something to help.”
“What about Consuelo?” Maritza said.
“She knows what I came here to do. It’s what we both want. I promise you I won’t be in the way. I just need a weapon.”
“I can’t let you have one of ours,” Warnick said.
“I’ve got you covered, John,” I said. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Yes.”
“And what about me?” Maritza said.
I’d been expecting this. Warnick wouldn’t want to put this girl in danger, and I waited for him to object. “Are you saying you want to be part of this?” he said.
“I’m saying that I’m not going to sit around here with the Gila monsters and the scorpions while you guys go and play Mad Max.”
“This isn’t a game, manita,” Berta said.
Maritza got to her feet and wagged her finger at Berta. “¡No me jodas, perra! I come from East Los too. So back off!” Then she stormed off.
Though my Spanish wasn’t great, I imagined that Maritza had said something like, “Back off, bitch!” I decided to let her cool off. For a few seconds it was quiet, the only sound the crackling of the fire.
“What got up her butt?” Berta said.
Hen shook his head. “Shut up, Berta.”
“Is she with you?” Warnick said to me.
“For better or worse.”
“Then you’re responsible. I have my people to look after.”
I got up and went out to find Maritza. She was standing next to a pile of huge, eroded boulders, looking up at an endless blanket of stars. She didn’t turn around as I stood next to her. When I placed an arm around her, she rested her head on my shoulder.
“She’s right,” she said. I could hear the hurt in her voice. “I don’t belong here. Those anxiety attacks I told you about? Did you see how I fainted back at Karen’s?”
“I won’t lie to you. This is going to be very dangerous. No one would hold it against you if you stayed behind.”
“All my life I’ve had to work hard for everything. I wasn’t the smartest kid in school. And I have this debilitating shyness that . . . I remember once in high school. I took a speech class. And when I got up there, my knees were shaking so badly. My hands, they . . . I dropped my note cards. Everyone laughed.”
“But look what you’ve accomplished. You’re a television reporter. People respect you.”
She pulled away and held onto my shoulders, her eyes boring into mine. “And you?”
“It’s funny,” I said. “In some ways you remind me of Holly. She was stubborn too. But she was also strong. And she never backed down.” I recalled the moment when I first handed my wife a gun. She was inexperienced, and we were about to face a horde. But she was awesome. “I want you with me, Maritza. Whatever happens.”
She held my face and kissed me. “I won’t let you down,” she said.
A line of torches illuminated a clearing next to an outcrop of boulders where empty water bottles, snack bags on sticks and other random objects had been arranged. Maritza and Zwick stood ten yards away facing the targets. He was armed with an assault rifle.
Carefully I handed a Glock to Maritza with the butt facing her. Tentatively she reached for it and admired it in her hand. “Is it loaded?”
“No. This is the magazine.” I inserted it into the weapon. “It holds fifteen rounds, plus one in the chamber. You’ll need to carry extra ammo.”
“How?”
“Use your pockets. It’s more important that you wear body armor. A tactical vest will be too constricting.”
I helped her with her stance while Hen worked with Zwick. Warnick and Ryan were reviewing plans on a laptop, and Berta and Ziggy were doing a weapons inventory.
“Sorry we do
n’t have any earmuffs,” Hen said.
“You need to relax,” I said to Maritza. “And make sure to hold the weapon with both hands, like this. It will steady you and give you a better chance at hitting something.”
“I can’t believe I’m doing this.”
“These targets are really small, so don’t worry if you miss the first few times. If you have to fire at a person, make sure you aim for the chest area.”
Maritza and Zwick spent the next half-hour firing rounds at the tiny targets. Zwick was an excellent shot and hit everything he aimed at. Maritza missed everything and became frustrated. Then Hen got the bright idea to set up an equipment bag vertically against the rocks, pinning a Doritos bag in the center for the heart. Taking her time, Maritza aimed and fired, hitting the bag every time—including sending a bullet through the Doritos package.
“Whoo-hoo!” she said, pumping her arm.
“Outstanding,” Hen said. “I think you guys are ready.”
It was close to nine and we were freezing. Warnick had remembered to pack sleeping bags and extra coats, which Hen and Ziggy distributed. We lay around the fire and tried to rest for a few hours. No one would be sleeping tonight.
Maritza and I lay next to each other on our sides, facing each other. She reached out and took my hand.
“Bad boy,” she said, smiling and kissing it.
Then she closed her eyes, holding my hand in hers.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Welcome to Paradise
At the four-mile mark we went off-road and carefully navigated the dark desert floor to our destination, a deep ravine off the main road where we could hide our vehicles. Though it would have been better to travel without headlights, loose rocks and depressions in the sand presented real dangers—things that could cause serious injury. So we took our chances. Warnick drove the first vehicle with me sitting next to him—like old times. Maritza, Vlad and John sat in the backseat. We had found a trail favored by off-roaders and stuck to that.
Though we were on a life-and-death mission, Maritza was exhilarated. She didn’t yet understand that people would be shooting at us. To dampen her enthusiasm I asked Vlad about his leg, wondering aloud about how much damage the bullet might have done. Catching on, he provided a detailed commentary—even threatening to remove the dressing. By the time he finished, Maritza had gone silent, sulking and gazing out the side window.
As we bumped along the trail, Warnick caught me up on everything that had been happening in Tres Marias since I left. The last of the draggers had been cleaned out and the bodies incinerated. The few cutters who had remained behind had already died when the poison gas from Operation Guncotton was released. As these bodies were discovered, they were collected and burned.
The governor had declared a state of emergency, which allowed the release of funds to rebuild the town. Hundreds of contractors descended like blow flies for the purpose of repairing roads and buildings. Slowly, things began to take shape and the town got to the point where displaced families—the people we had rescued just prior to the gassing—could return. The plan was to reopen schools and businesses after the New Year.
“Sounds like Tres Marias might be a nice place to live again,” I said. Though I was being sarcastic, somewhere in me I hoped that it was true. This was my home and, despite my denials, I loved it.
“We’re getting there. Isaac Fallow has been incredible. He got the hospital back in shape and is working with a team of researchers on the RS-6160 virus.”
“I know. And now he has Peter Asimov to help him.”
Warnick went on to talk about his own role in all this. He had been packed and ready to deploy to Atlanta with Griffin and Fabian, but at the last minute word came down from Black Dragon Security’s regional office in San Francisco that Tres Marias was in need of a new supervisor to help maintain order during the reconstruction. Warnick had grown fond of the town and didn’t hesitate to accept the assignment.
“I kept trying to contact you,” Warnick said as we made our way through the blackness of the cold desert. “We thought we had you in Phoenix when you took out all that cash.”
“I didn’t stay long,” I said.
“I assigned someone from the local office to look for you. He’s a pretty good tracker and he picked up your trail in Quartzite.”
“Really? How?”
“He was using a police scanner. There was a lot of chatter about some guy who’d been shot in a parking lot. Our guy checked in with the local police, who directed him to a hospital. The victim was lucky they were able to save his leg. He admitted he was pretty drunk. Still, he was able to provide a good description of the assailant, who could’ve shot him to death but didn’t. Our guy had a feeling it might have been you.”
Warnick waited for me to confirm the story. I ignored him for a time. Then I said, “He tried to cut me.”
“So, self-defense?”
“Pretty much.”
“Anyway. After that, we lost track of you. But we knew you were headed to LA.”
“Yeah.”
“To kill Walt Freeman.” When I didn’t respond, Warnick shook his head. I expected him to pull out the bible from his back pocket and quote from Proverbs. But he said nothing.
“He met me,” Maritza said from the backseat, attempting to lighten the mood.
Glancing back, I smiled. “The only good thing that’s happened.”
“And how did you get mixed up with Vlad’s sister?” Warnick said.
“I met her on the day I went to Hellborn to kill Walt. She had just escaped.”
“Good thing you were there.”
For the rest of the trip I explained to Warnick how we had come together. I told him about Trower and about the others who had died as a result of Hellborn—Cuco, the neighbor kid, Becky and so many other strangers. By the time I’d finished the story we had arrived at the ravine. We climbed out of our vehicles and prepared.
The moon was bright as we got ready to head out. Each of us put on body armor, then our coats. Everyone carried assault rifles, as well as handguns—except Maritza, who carried her Glock. We were anxious to start walking, since the temperature had already dropped to the low thirties.
Something moved in the ravine, setting us on edge. Berta shone a light, which revealed a kit fox crushing the neck of a prairie dog and trotting off into the blackness, carrying the dead thing in its mouth.
“Let’s go,” Warnick said.
The trail we had followed ended at the ravine, and we had to make our way using a compass. Because the landscape was flat, the hike wasn’t taxing. Sometime after the first mile, Vlad had taken the lead with Warnick. They chatted amiably, trading wartime experiences. I half expected them to compare scars. Maritza, John and I followed, and the others in Warnick’s squad brought up the rear.
“Are you still planning to kill Walt Freeman?” Maritza said.
“If the opportunity presents itself.”
“What about Trower?”
“I might leave him for Vlad.”
“I wish . . .”
“What? That we could arrest them?”
“Well, yes. Why not? They should go to prison.”
“Men like that don’t do prison. They drop out of sight and reappear somewhere else to gin up a new, fresh hell.”
I had hoped that Maritza would understand what I’d been through after having listened to Warnick and me. In any case, she was silent and walked on.
John adjusted his body armor and coughed. “I would kill everyone responsible, if I could.”
“Even if it means you dying?” she said.
“Yes. At least I would have avenged my son.”
“Men . . .” Maritza said nothing else for the rest of the trip.
We stood at the edge of a rocky ridge overlooking Baseborn Identity Research, which was comprised of a massive rectangular structure, surrounded by a number of smaller buildings. The entire property was enclosed in a dual-mesh electrified fence. A long gravel road le
d to the entrance where a fortified guard shack stood.
The facility probably ran three shifts—the same as the East LA location—and I was surprised that there was no visible activity. In fact, the only sound was the whistling of a chill wind that cut through our clothes.
We had made good time—we had forty-five minutes to get into position to meet Erck. We were to meet him on the south side where we would scale the fence after he cut the power temporarily.
“Why is it so quiet?” Berta said.
Warnick peered through binoculars and scanned the landscape. Then he stopped moving and focused on something. “No one’s in the guard shack. That’s not right.”
“Could they have bugged out?” Hen said.
“Look!”
“Feck,” Ryan said.
Hen squinted up at the sky. “What?”
“Do y’ not see those t’ings?”
As Warnick pointed skyward, we watched as maybe a dozen faint dark objects flew in a crisscross pattern over the complex—drones!
“What do we do now?” Ryan said.
“Warnick, can I have a look?” I said, reaching for the binoculars. He handed them over and I scanned an area where the fence ended and butted up against a massive wall of boulders. “It won’t be easy. We’ve got some climbing to do.”
After Warnick confirmed the location, he signaled for us to head out. I was worried about John. We had a steep climb and I wasn’t sure he was up to it.
Warnick shook his head. “We’ll have to take the long way around. The drones seem to be restricted to the main part of the complex in the front.”
“What about Erck?” I said. “This is going to set us back. Can you contact him?”
“No. We’ll have to take our chances. Come on, double-time.”
We trotted towards our destination single file, saying nothing. John was behind me. I kept looking over my shoulder to make sure he was still with us.
“Don’t worry about me,” he said, his breathing regular. “I quit smoking years ago.”
It took us twenty minutes to make our way around to the point where we would need to climb the steep rock formation. When we arrived, we took a moment to catch our breath. Then, peering up at the gigantic boulders, we turned to Warnick for instructions.
Even The Dead Will Bleed Page 24