Phantom zero, p.7
Phantom Zero, page 7
Here goes.
She jogged down the hill, keeping her footsteps light and scanning her path ahead to avoid branches or leaves that could snap or crunch. The fence loomed larger and larger as she approached, and when she finally reached Trent, it looked twice as tall as the nine-feet-plus she’d guessed before.
Too late to stop now, though. She placed her foot in Trent’s cupped hands and launched. Trent brought his arms up with her movement, and she leaped into the air with the grace of a ballerina.
She still barely cleared the fence. A stray slip of razor wire caught her buttock and sliced a thin ribbon through her skin. She blew air through her open mouth and rolled to her feet before placing a hand to the wound. She pulled it away to find some blood but not much. She could deal with it later.
She turned and gave Trent two thumbs up. He gave her one in return, then tossed the pack over the fence. She caught it, slung it over her shoulder, then caught the rifle that followed. Once that was in position over her other shoulder, she gave Trent another thumbs up, then moved to the nearest of the large buildings.
This one was a two-story structure, the only one in town. It was a rectangular building with a steeply sloped roof and glass windows—also unique in Morningvale, whose windows were mostly open structures covered with curtains and shutters.
She walked once around the building, keeping her footsteps soft and her eyes roving. She was about forty yards from the rear gate, and if the guards looked behind, they would see her. Fortunately, they remained focused on the darkness beyond the town.
When Mischa satisfied herself that there were no hidden cameras watching her, she approached one of the windows on the side opposite the town’s rear gate. She looked inside and saw that the window opened into a large office with modern appointments and a state-of-the-art computer tower with a widescreen high-definition monitor. It clashed badly with the rustic “righteous living” vibe the rest of the town exhibited. She guessed this was reserved for their great and glorious leader.
She tested the window. It was sealed shut. She took a deep breath, released it slowly, then unshouldered her pack. Her earpiece chirped. “Hey, Specter. Everything okay?”
“Everything’s good,” she replied in a low voice. “I’m going to cut into this window and check out the office. Looks nice and modern. Clearly a privilege for their Messiah.”
“Got it. You’re good for now. No one heading your way.”
“Thanks, Talon.”
She withdrew a glass knife, something she’d started incorporating into the team’s standard equipment after realizing that breaking into buildings happened quite a lot on the job. She pressed firmly and cut through the single-pane easily enough.
Then the pane started to fall inwards, and she realized she hadn't secured it with a suction cup yet. She swore and reached forward, grabbing it before it could shatter noisily on the floor of the office. The three-foot-by-two-foot glass was heavy, and she strained for a moment before gently lowering it to rest on the wall.
That disaster averted, she breathed a sigh of relief and climbed into the office.
The computer would be locked, but she had a tool for that as well. Penny had created a program that would crack into any computer on Earth that had anything short of DARPA-level encryption. Maya plugged the USB drive into the port. While the program engaged the computer’s firewall, she started looking through the filing cabinet.
The top drawer of the cabinet was full of handwritten letters to someone called the Lightbringer. Maya glanced at a few of them but found nothing useful. Typical mindless worship from a brainwashed flock.
Maya chuckled at the name Lightbringer. Keller was nothing if not arrogant.
The bottom drawer was far more concerning. Inside were transaction records, accounting files, and formal communications with entities ranging from major defense contractors, domestic and foreign politicians, and individuals Maya didn’t recognize but who, based on the communications and records, were clearly in the arms business.
Maya glanced through the records with growing alarm. Keller was extremely well connected, and what was worse, it looked like people in multiple levels of multiple governments, including that of the United States, were well aware of his plans to conduct an attack on air travel. A few even referred to him as Lightbringer, just as brainwashed as the people living in this commune.
The computer chimed. Maya walked back to it and opened the desktop. Several folders popped up: One, titled Morningstar, had legacy records of the company’s operations. Another, labeled Morningvale, had digital copies of the files Maya had found in the bottom drawer of the file cabinet. She instructed the USB drive to download those files so she could send them to Penny later.
The last folder was called the Ninth Circle. Maya clicked it and found a single document. When she opened it, she found a freeverse poem written in Keller’s typical high-handed style.
In the Ninth Circle, Lucifer rises.
To blind the enemies with light.
To cast his foes into darkness.
To reveal his light to the world.
In the Ninth Circle, the angels shall fall, the sky shall open, and the secrets of the Earth shall be revealed.
From the Ninth Circle, Lucifer shall emerge triumphant to rule the world in knowledge and power and light.
She whistled. “This guy really went all in with the God complex.”
Her earpiece chirped. “Specter! Enemies approaching! Eight of them, armed with rifles. I don’t think they know you’re there yet, but they’ll arrive in less than a minute.”
“Understood, Talon,” she replied. “I think I have what I need, anyway.”
She downloaded the Ninth Circle poem onto the drive, ejected it, then turned back to the window.
Just in time to see eight surprised faces stare directly back at her.
One of the faces narrowed, and a smile came up. Maya lifted her own rifle and fired once, catching the terrorist before he could fire his own weapon. The report echoed throughout the office despite Maya's suppressor. Shouting reached her ears, and one by one, the cabin lights outside switched on.
The fight they’d tried to avoid had found them anyway.
CHAPTER NINE
Trent swore and aimed his rifle at the group of men who had come across Maya. The men had come from outside the camp and entered through the first gate Trent and Maya had seen earlier. Trent didn’t notice their vehicle pull up, which meant they’d approached with their lights off, maybe to avoid waking their neighbors.
Whatever the reason, they’d headed straight for the building where Maya was rather than any of the cabins. They stopped for a moment, staring open-mouthed through the window Maya had opened to get inside.
Then the man closes to the window lifted his gun, a long-barreled Remington 700 rifle. Trent sighted on him and fired. The bullet passed through his temple and buried itself in the dirt just in front of one of the cabins.
Shit. That’s too close. The last thing they needed was for one of those kids to die in the crossfire. He understood now why the President refused to send an FBI SWAT team into Morningvale.
Another rifle report split the air. A second terrorist fell, and the bullet sailed through the buildings and rattled through the chicken wire in front of the town.
“Bring them this way,” Trent told Maya. “If we’re going to have a fight, let’s have it outside of the town.”
“Understood,” Maya replied. “I’m looking for another way out now. Heading for the back door. This building is empty, so if anyone shows up trying to meet me, feel free to take them out.”
Trent nodded and covered the exit as the six surviving attackers split up, three heading for the front and three for the back. Residents were leaving their cabins, but so far, no one was approaching the building, just standing on their porches with their rifles watching.
Just stay there, Trent thought. Just stay out of the way.
He wasn’t convinced there were many—if any—innocent people in Morningvale over the age of eighteen, but he would rather not kill any fathers or mothers if it could be avoided. His shoulders slumped as it occurred to him that they might have already killed two.
Maya came through the back door, and Trent snapped out of it and fired at the nearest enemy, shooting him through the neck. He fell against the wall of the building and slid to the ground, blood spurting from the wound.
Maya took advantage of the enemy’s shock and dropped the other two before charging for the gate. Trent fired at one of the guards armed with assault rifles, but the other dropped behind the chicken wire and fired a burst at Maya, forcing her to drop to the ground.
The other three who had approached the office building were now aiming at her. She was on flat ground where she wouldn’t be able to avoid all four shooters.
Trent cursed and switched his fire selector to three round burst. He aimed quickly and fired at the three coming from behind Maya. He got one of them, and the other two had to jump back behind the building, but two of the bursts slammed into the wall of one of the cabins. Trent heard screaming from inside, and his heart fell to his feet before the door opened, and a woman holding two young children rushed outside, unharmed.
For now.
Maya was on her feet and running toward the gate again. The surviving guard was backing away from her sustained fire, avoiding death but unable to stop her advance without risking his own life. One of the terrorists behind her fired his rifle, and the bullet whipped just past her shoulder.
Trent returned fire, but once again, bullets sprayed the cabin that had just been evacuated. They couldn’t keep this fight up.
“I’m out,” Maya said over the radio. “Get past the town limits. Don’t worry about me, I have—” Gunfire interrupted her for a moment, then a cry as she killed whoever was firing at her. “I have cover. Get somewhere we can fight back without endangering civilians.”
Trent looked back at the town, and his heart sank even further. Twenty or so of the residents were pouring from their cabins and jogging for the gate. Several families watched from windows as their fathers and mothers joined to defend Morningvale from the invaders. “They don’t seem intent on staying civilians,” Trent said.
Maya sighed. “Yeah, I know. We’ll do our best.”
Trent retreated into the trees and sprinted after Maya. Behind him, he heard a voice call, “There’s another one at the top of the hill!”
This was followed by a spray of bullets whipping through the branches around him. Trent’s heart pounded, and he prayed silently, Just let us get a hundred yards away. Just deep enough into the trees that we’re not hurting kids.
He wondered what would happen to the kids once this was over. The FBI couldn’t just let them stay out here. President Klein didn’t want a violent takeover, but she also couldn’t allow a domestic terror organization to thrive in the middle of New York State. He and Maya were willing to let most of these people survive to get away with the information they needed to stop Keller. The FBI might not be. Even if they were…
He sighed. He was glad he didn’t need to do that job.
Of course, his job was to stop a madman from using his satellite-cracking skills to unleash consequences even more unimaginable than the complete destruction of air travel complete with thousands of deaths. That thought almost brought a laugh to his lips, except, you know, it wasn’t funny at all.
He hadn’t heard gunfire for a while, so he turned left, angling toward Maya’s path. He pulled down his night vision goggles and switched the view to infrared.
There were about twenty figures scattered throughout the forest looking for them. One figure sat a few dozen yards from the rest, remaining still behind a thick oak trunk. That must be Maya.
Another figure, moving more capably than the rest, headed toward her, crouching and aiming his rifle ahead. That was probably the surviving gate guard.
Trent moved toward them, keeping his footfalls light, and his rifle ready. He had an idea, but he’d have to be very quick and very quiet. And a little bit lucky.
He had to stop three times when pursuers drew close. Each time, he watched anxiously as the guard approached Maya’s hiding spot. He couldn’t warn her about his plan over the radio, or he risked being overheard, so he just had to wait and hope that she didn’t blow her cover and bring the cavalry down on them.
Finally, he closed to within twelve feet of the enemy. It was the gate guard, and a tattoo above his left elbow marked him as a veteran of the Green Berets. That explained the better training.
Not as good as Trent’s though. SOG trained regularly with the Green Berets along with Delta Force, SEAL Team Six, Force Recon, and a number of allied special forces groups. They were expected to perform at a higher level than all of them, and Trent—being part of the EOT—was expected to outperform SOG.
Here’s hoping that training paid off.
He rushed the man. At the last instant, the man cursed and swung toward him, but Trent reached him first. He slammed the butt of his rifle into the man’s nose, and as the man fell, he caught him and placed him in a sleeper hold. The man went limp instantly, trying to trick Trent into thinking he was already unconscious. Trent waited until he panicked and tried to escape, then held on until he was actually unconscious.
He heard rustling next to him and turned to see Maya. “Move deeper,” he said softly. “We’ll interrogate him.”
She nodded once and disappeared into the darkness. Trent disarmed and handcuffed the terrorist and followed her. From time to time, they heard shouting behind them, and once the report of a long rifle. They walked for about a mile, Trent estimated, before Maya stopped them at a small dugout cave formed by tree roots extending over a hole in the dirt probably left behind by flooding. It would work for now.
He set the unconscious terrorist on the ground and slapped him until he woke. The man started and drew in breath, but Maya pressed the barrel of her rifle to his temple and said, “Raise your voice, and you die.”
The man considered a moment, decided he wanted to live, and clammed up. Trent squatted in front of him. “Okay, buddy. I don’t feel like killing anyone else today except your boss, so how about you talk, and when we’re done, I leave you here all nice and gift-wrapped for your buddies? Sound like a plan?”
The terrorist bared his teeth. “You won’t kill the Lightbringer. He’s on a divine mission to bring knowledge to the world, to reveal that which has been shrouded in darkness, to—”
“Yep, got it. He’s going to make the big bad government spill its guts. Only here’s the thing: he’s already killed thousands of innocent people, and he’s planning to kill more. Feel free to disagree if it makes you feel better, but I’m not interested in hearing your bullshit. Where is he?”
The terrorist grinned. “Lucifer waits in the Ninth Circle. He will rise and—”
“Where’s the Ninth Circle?”
The man laughed. “I’m not afraid of death.”
“Yeah, I figured. What with you worshipping a man who calls himself Satan.”
“Do you know what Satan means? It means the Accuser. And yes, he accuses you. We accuse you. You who hide and cheat and lie. You say the Lightbringer harms innocents? How many innocents have you harmed? How many innocents have the gods you serve harmed?”
Trent sighed. “Buddy, I just don’t have the patience. Where is Dr. Adrian Keller?”
“‘He who hath ears to hear, let him hear.’”
Trent and Maya shared a look. Maya looked at him and asked, “What consequences will we suffer if we don’t comply with the Lightbringer’s demands?
“Loss. Of everything.”
“Can you be more specific?”
The terrorist quoted another Bible verse in reply. “‘A wicked and adulterous generation seeketh after a sign, and there shall be no sign given unto it but the sign of the prophet Jonas.”
“Haven’t been to church in a minute,” Trent said. “Mind refreshing me a little on what that sign is?”
The terrorist leaned closer, eyes blazing. “Fire. There shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth.”
Trent shared another look with Maya. She shook her head. They weren’t going to get anything more specific out of him.
Trent nodded and got to his feet. “When you wake up, buddy, I encourage you to do some very serious thinking about whether or not you want to continue to be a part of this bullshit. Think about the children in your village. Think about the danger in which you’re placing them.”
“In which we’re placing them?” The man’s eyes flashed fire. “You’re the ones lying to—”
Trent tapped the man’s temple with the butt of his rifle. The terrorist sighed and slumped forward, unconscious.
“Right,” Trent said drily. To Maya, he said, “Let’s get out of here before his buddies show up.”
She nodded. Her face was pale, and Trent wasn’t sure if that was a trick of the moonlight or a combination of what their friend had just told him and what she had found inside the building. He still didn’t know what that was, but he’d ask her once they were safely out of the area.
Whatever it was, he didn’t like the warning the terrorist had given. Fire. Weeping. Gnashing of teeth.
Keller fit the image of Lucifer well. He was painting himself as a champion of humanity, but his real goal was the same as that of everyone’s favorite fallen angel.
Hell on Earth.
CHAPTER TEN
One of the most important skills Zero had developed as a spy was the ability to remain calm when faced with something shocking, frightening, or infuriating. He had used that skill to great effect as Kent Steele, developing a reputation both within and without the CIA as a cold, calculating, and ruthless individual who was unaffected by any challenge he encountered.
Like most intelligence work, it was a lie, and like most lies, it took hard work to maintain. Watching the beat-up old van move slowly through his cul-de-sac while two hard-faced men and an equally hard-faced woman scanned his house with infrared, X-ray, and magnetic imaging devices sent emotion through him so powerful that it almost overpowered his control. He was one surge of energy away from tearing the office apart.
