Apocalyptic Visions Super Boxset (69 page)

The homeless man Cooper picked up still smelled terrible despite the clothes and deodorant she’d brought with her. It was going to take more than a clean shirt and Right Guard to get rid of the smell that decades of living in the wilderness provided.

Moringer didn’t want Cooper to bring him in, but the fact that he was able to physically identify that Perry was the man he saw drop off the cash last week for the harbormaster to pick up made him one of the only physical pieces of evidence that could bring Perry down. While her boss was doubtful that a jury would be convinced that this man had the clarity of mind and reputation to actually be believable, Cooper felt like doing something was better than nothing.

So Cooper waited at the same coordinates where she’d found the homeless man in the first place for Moringer to arrive and put the man in witness protection under the guard of the DEA, but only with agents she could trust. Her partner, Diaz, was at the top of a very short list.

The man hadn’t said much when Cooper arrived except for asking her if she had any more food. Once she gave him the sandwich she’d brought, that had become the main focus of his attention. She checked her watch, and the moment she looked up, Moringer’s silver sedan appeared on the dirt road and entered the field.

Both Moringer and Diaz exited the car, their eyes cast over to the homeless man devouring his sandwich under the shade of the tree by the bench. Diaz motioned over to the guy. “It’s a risk taking him in.”

“Perry doesn’t know about him,” Cooper said. “Trust me. And even if he did, he’s too arrogant to think that some homeless man would be able to bring him down.”

“And there would be some truth to that,” Moringer replied. “Did you speak with the captain?”

“Yeah, he’s on board, but we need to get his boy out of Perry’s control. I don’t know if he’ll move much without him safe.”

Moringer extended her the files. “This is authentic.” Before Cooper could take them, he pulled them back. “The moment Dylan Turk hands these over to Perry, he will have full knowledge of where the computer chips are located and how to bypass the security systems. It’s not just your career that’s riding on this, or mine, it’s the fate of the country.”

“I understand, sir.” Cooper took the file and thumbed through its contents. “It’s going to be risky for everyone involved.” She shot a glance to Diaz.

“Hey, I told you when we started this that I have your back. And I meant it.” Diaz looked over to the homeless man, now finished with his food. “Besides, I’ll be on guard duty. I doubt I’ll get much action on that assignment.”

“Diaz is going to work at getting our witness in front of a judge, once we get a court order I’ll take it to the other directors. Our accusations will carry more weight with it, and if Perry goes for the captain’s bait, then we’ll be in even better shape, but Perry has his ear to the ground,” Moringer said. “We should all treat this like he already knows everything.”

Cooper knew he was right. So far, Perry had been ahead of the game on everything. He’d been smarter than his superiors at Homeland, smarter than they were, smarter than the terrorists, and he’d done so with ease.

The homeless man wandered over, and Diaz took him and placed him in the back of the car. It didn’t take much convincing—another meal and a shower—and the homeless man looked like he was ready to drive himself into town.

Moringer stopped Cooper before she left. “Listen, I know you’re going this alone, but if something happens or it doesn’t feel right—”

“Sir, this hasn’t felt right since we started. I’ll get it done.”

Moringer put his hands in the air and backed away. Cooper let them leave first and made her way back over to her car by the tree and bench. She stopped for a second, taking in the area, then took a seat on the worn bench.

The legs had sunk into the earth on the right side, causing the bench to tilt, and most of the wooden planks that ran along the seat looked like they would snap in half at any moment, so Cooper made sure not to move too much. She ran her fingertips along the side of the wood, a few of the boards having letters carved into them that were no longer visible.

Cooper wondered how many people had been out here before, sat at this bench under the shade, and looked out onto the field before them. It was a peaceful place, quiet. Somewhere you could go for a picnic, perhaps during other circumstances. Why this spot?

The coordinates that Perry had given were specific, and with the bench and tree here, it had to have been a place Perry had been before. In all reality, she knew nothing more about the man than what she’d been able to read about his work history. Training, education, place of birth, date of birth, race, weight, height, but none of it told her about who he was or where he came from. Maybe that’s what she was missing. Maybe that was the piece of armor that had made Perry seem so invincible. If she could find out more about his past, then maybe she could figure out what he wanted to do with his future.

***

The folder Cooper had given Dylan rested on the table next to the radar tech he’d stolen from the boat on the last mission before it went down. He didn’t understand the technology that made it work, but when he plugged it into the GPS, the Navy, Coast Guard, no one could track him. If he was going to pull this off, he’d need it.

Mark hobbled out of the bathroom and buttoned his shirt, wincing from the exertion. He couldn’t do it himself, and Dylan cursed himself for asking, but he needed help. “You sure you’re up for this?”

“I don’t need you patronizing me,” Mark answered. “I was sailing before you were even born. I once stitched up my own leg from a shark bite diving off the North Carolina coast then managed to paddle my way back to shore. I think I can handle sitting at a dock behind the boat wheel.”

“Once you’re in it, these people will know you. Hunt you.” Dylan pointed to the folder and the tech on the table. “You touch it, and you’re toxic like I am.”

Mark picked up the small cloaking device and turned it over in his hands. “I was toxic the moment I let you into my house. Now, where’s the marina?”

Cooper had told Dylan that Homeland and the FBI were doing a fake transport of the computer chips. In reality, they were staying exactly where they were in the facility just south of DC in hopes of tricking the terrorists into attacking a dummy truck, one that would be easier for them to take down. But with Dylan feeding Perry the truth, along with the date and specifics of the facility.

Everything depended on Perry believing Dylan. It was on him to convince Perry that the plan was solid. Perry would be able to verify through his Homeland contacts, but the fact that Dylan was bringing the information beforehand, that was what would be suspicious. It all came down to convincing Perry that Dylan was double crossing Cooper for his son.

The marina Dylan would meet Mark at would be just south of the city, close to where the heist would take place. Dylan handed him the keys to the boat he’d rented with the cash that Cooper had given him, and the two men embraced.

Mark clapped Dylan’s back hard, the strength Dylan thought had been gone seemingly returning in the blink of an eye. “You make sure you’re at that dock, all right?”

“I will.” Dylan handed him the bag with the device, along with some of his medications, food, water, extra clothes, and his revolver with a box of ammo. Even if Dylan made it to the dock, he wasn’t sure how long they’d have to stay out there, and he wanted to make sure they had something to fall back on.

Once Mark disappeared, Dylan grabbed his phone then texted the number that always contacted him. I have some info. Give me a time and a place.

The answer was almost immediate, and with that, Dylan grabbed the files and jumped into his truck. The entire ride over, his stomach flipped and churned, but each time he felt like his breakfast was going to come up, he remembered why he was doing it, and a rush of anger replaced whatever fear came to the surface. The location Dylan had received in the text was just a few miles from Mark’s house, a sign that Perry knew where he was staying. Not something he didn’t expect, but still unnerving.

Dylan pulled into an abandoned shopping mall, all but vacant with the exception of a few homeless and those who had scattered with nowhere else to go with the events that had been plaguing the nation. Regardless, whoever they were, they ran the moment his truck pulled in.

The only other car in the lot was parked on the opposite end, near a cluster of rusted shopping carts under the shade of a large oak tree. Dylan pulled up right alongside it, but the windows were so tinted that he couldn’t see inside, so he waited for them to make the first move. Finally, the window lowered, and Kasaika motioned for him to get out of his truck and into the back seat.

Dylan shut the door, and the leather squeaked as he sat down. Dylan had never seen the driver before, but Kasaika did all the talking. “Well? What do you have?”

“I need to speak with Perry about it,” Dylan answered, keeping the folder clutched tight in his fist. “It’s something only he’ll understand.”

Kasaika scoffed and shook his head. “You will tell me, and I will decide whether it is worth our time.”

Dylan opened the door and quickly got out, triggering both the driver and Kasaika to exit the vehicle as well. Before Dylan made it to his truck door, Kasaika stepped between it and him, wielding a pistol. “Give me what you have, or your boy will get a cut across his back to match the one on his chest.”

Dylan tossed Kasaika the folder, and the terrorist smiled. “I need to hear back from him quickly. We have a small window of opportunity to make this happen.” Dylan let the terrorists leave first then made his way back to Mark’s place. Along the way, he kept checking his phone, making sure he hadn’t missed some sort of message, but found none.

The drive back to Mark’s was the longest of Dylan’s life. The seconds seemed to drag into hours, each one exponentially longer than the last. When he pulled into the driveway, his shirt was soaked with sweat, the sun already high in the sky.

Dylan trudged up the steps of the front porch, and when he opened the door, Perry was sitting on the couch, his legs crossed and his hands folded in his lap. “Hello, Captain.”

The sight of Perry caught Dylan off guard. Even though this wasn’t Dylan’s house, he still felt the revulsion of Perry being in a place that was meant to be private. For a moment, he wondered whether or not Perry had surveillance in Mark’s house. Had he seen Cooper over here? Had he heard their conversations?

The folder that Dylan had given Kasaika was in Perry’s hand. He rose from the couch, waving the folder back and forth. “This is impressive. And I’m wondering how you managed to get your hands on it.”

Dylan forced the lump that was catching in his throat back down. “Cooper came by with an offer. She wanted me to give you that information to set you up in exchange for her help in getting my son back.”

“And I take it by your submission of you telling me that information that you don’t intend to help her?”

“No. I want a trade.” Dylan took a step closer, the rage bubbling up within him, giving him a false sense of courage. “I get you whatever these computer chips are for by double-crossing Cooper, and then you give me my son. No more games. No more bullshit.”

Perry stepped around Dylan, pacing the living room, gently and patiently tapping the corner of the folder against the palm of his hand. “And why do I need your help for that? I have the folder, the intel, and the man power to get it done already.” Perry spun around, a questioning look on his face, almost as if he were anticipating what Dylan would say next.

“Cooper is only letting me inside the facility, along with a few of your men, but it’s me who will have the access. You could try and do it without me, but you’ll run the risk of exposing yourself, and you and I both know that’s not something you’re able to do right now.”

An unexpected laugh burst from Perry, and Dylan watched the man shake off the laughter, waving his finger at him. “I must say I am surprised. It always thrills me to know that there are still some things I can’t expect.” Another roll of a chuckle escaped, and Perry took a moment to compose himself. “Well done, Captain.”

Perry tossed the folder onto the coffee table and made his way to the door without saying another word. A car pulled up out front, and Dylan chased after him into the driveway. “Wait! Do we have a deal?”

Perry got into the car without answering, and it drove off, leaving Dylan alone in the driveway, watching the taillights fade into the distance. His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he checked the message. The time was set for tomorrow.

***

Everything was in order. Dylan had checked in with Mark, who was positioned at the marina, waiting for him to show up. Aside from a lack of sleep the night before, he was fine. Dylan met the small unit of men that Perry had sent over a few miles from the facility, which was tucked between clusters of hills. Kasaika was waiting for him when he arrived.

Open fields surrounded the facility for at least one hundred yards before trees offered any cover. Guards patrolled the chain-link fences around the perimeter, and there were security feeds monitoring all the activity on the premises.

The building itself looked no larger than a storage facility, but according to Cooper and Perry, the looks were deceiving. The facility went deep underground, at least fifteen levels from what the schematics of the building told them. While trying to penetrate the security on the ground level was nearly impossible, the schematics revealed drainage and vent tunnels two miles east of the facility, where the waste was disposed of, and that was Dylan and Kasaika’s point of entrance. Despite Dylan’s request to be armed, he was forced to go in without a weapon but was still positioned in the front, where Kasaika could keep the barrel of his rifle pointed at him.

Boots splashed against the thin stream of runoff water, and flashlights illuminated the large concrete tunnels they navigated. It was going to get a lot more cramped and uncomfortable before the trip was over. Less than a mile into their infiltration, the tunnels shrank to half the size, and Dylan, along with Kasaika and the three men he had with him, was forced to crawl.

Dylan scraped his knees and elbows against the concrete, his belly sliding along the wet floor until he finally made it to an intersection where the piping opened up into a small cavern, just big enough for two men to stand. A vent was directly above them that would take them into the air ducts, where Dylan and Kasaika climbed.

The air shaft ran another hundred yards and then opened up into a utility room, where they would be able to use the security codes that Cooper had given him. The five men squirmed along the narrow vents until they finally arrived at the utility room.

Air conditioning units hissed and hummed upon their entry, and Dylan pulled the key card from his pocket and slid it across the magnetic strip on the door’s locks. A light flashed green, and Dylan cracked the door open to get a look outside. The hallway was clear, and Dylan took his first step out as the last member of Kasaika’s team lowered himself into the utility room.

The hallway was dimly lit, and according to the schematics, they still had to go down one level to retrieve the computer chips. Dylan followed the path, doing his best to remember the way that Cooper had described it on the maps.

Voices echoed farther down the hall, and Dylan came to an abrupt halt. Kasaika and his men quickly stopped behind him, and they retreated to the utility room. Dylan fumbled for the key, and the voices grew louder. They heard their footprints thump closer. Kasaika aimed the rifle down the hall, and his men mimicked his motions.

The green light finally flashed, the door unlocked, and they piled inside and sealed themselves up just before the guards rounded the corner. Dylan sat on the inside of the room, his body still pressed firmly up against the door, and listened as the men’s voices grew louder as they approached the room then faded away as they continued down the hall.

Dylan wiped the beads of sweat from his forehead and let out a sigh. While Kasaika and his men weren’t as vocal about their near escape, Dylan could still see the sweat beaded on their foreheads. Kasaika pointed toward the door. “We need to move before they realize the security feed is down.”

“All the levels are circular,” Dylan said. “We should wait for them to come back around to see how long it takes. Then we’ll know how much time we’ll have on our run.”

Kasaika shook his head. “We go now! We don’t have time for your cowardice.”

“There’s a difference between keeping us alive and being a coward. Shh! Listen.”

The voices of the guards grew louder as they made their approach down the halls, but this time there was a third voice, one that Dylan couldn’t make out until he heard the crackle of the radio.

“Team six, we’re having a video feed malfunction down on level fourteen. We need you to check the utility room for a system scan for the level.”

“Copy that, control. We’re on it.”

Kasaika motioned his men to aim their weapons at the door, and Dylan hid behind them. The voices grew louder, and Dylan felt his heart pounding in his head as he watched the red light on the door lock flash to green, and before either of the guards realized what happened, two bullets pierced each of their heads and redecorated the walls of the hallway with the insides of their blood.

“Move!” Kasaika thrust his arm forward, and he and his men stepped over the bodies and emptied into the hallway, with Dylan following closely behind. On their way to the stairs, Dylan heard the radio on the dead guard’s chest spout another series of demands.

They burst into the staircase, and a blur of feet and legs descended the steps. “We don’t have much time before they realize what’s happened,” Dylan said, his breaths short and sporadic as they reached the bottom floor. He rushed to the front and slid the security card through the slide holder, and the moment he stepped into the hallway, he was greeted by three guards making their rounds.

“Freeze!” The guards aimed their weapons, and Dylan tried to jump back into the stairwell, but Kasaika forced him into the hallway as a distraction and then fired at the guards.

Bullets peppered the concrete walls, and Dylan ducked on the far side of the hallway as Kasaika and his men followed, returning fire. The first terrorist who entered immediately took a bullet to the head and dropped to the floor.

Dylan scrambled to reach for the dead terrorist’s weapon, but Kasaika and his other men cut him off, firing into the hallway, before he had a chance. Kasaika shouted his orders to his men over the gunfire as the two groups crouched and stood their ground in the narrow curving hallway.

Lights flashed, and alarms sounded as Dylan and Kasaika’s men retreated backward, using the curve of the walls as cover while the guards continued their fire. Dylan kept his eye open for the door described in the schematics and finally found it on the left-hand side where the key and fingerprint scan was needed.

Dylan slid the card through the key strip, and the fingerprint panel lit up. He pressed a shaky hand against the scanner as gunshots thundered through the hallways. A very long thirty seconds later, the scanner turned green, and the door opened. Dylan was the first inside and found the package of chips, along with the second component that Perry had asked for personally. When Dylan rushed out, Kasaika and his men were pinned down, holding back a force of at least seven men.

“I have what we need, but we still have to get back to the level above us to make it out of here.” Dylan ducked to avoid a ricochet and looked behind them to make sure they weren’t being flanked. “C’mon! We’ll circle around.”

Dylan led the way, and his heart pounded in rhythm with each step forward. The footsteps behind him had the sound of a panicked herd, but Dylan focused on the simple task of keeping one foot in front of the other until he saw the barrel of one of the guards’ rifles on a turn around the corner and skidded to a stop.

Dylan ducked and narrowly missed a bullet to the head as he ran into one of Kasaika’s men. There were only three guards on this side of the floor, and Dylan knew that they must have split up to try and squeeze them out.

“Forward!” Kasaika waved his men on, pushing the three guards back as empty shell casings clinked against the floor and rolled left and right in sporadic patterns. Smoke wafted from the tips of the rifle barrels, and Dylan kept low to avoid the gunfire from both the terrorists and the guards.

Sparks from bullets ricocheted against the concrete behind Dylan, and he turned to see that the other half of the guards had caught up behind them, pressing them from both sides. “We’ve got company!”

Kasaika turned and started firing back at the guards sneaking up on their rear, while the rest of his men continued to push forward. The three groups were caught in a stalemate, rotating around and around. The longer they stayed here, Dylan knew, the more the fight would turn to the guards’ favor. It wouldn’t be much longer before they had every security guard in the facility hunting them.

A pistol hung from the side of one of Kasaika’s men, and Dylan quickly snatched it from his belt. The man yelled something in Arabic, but Dylan started shooting at the guards, helping the terrorists. Together they pushed forward, and each squeeze of the trigger sent recoil through Dylan’s arm and shoulder. The first few shots almost knocked the gun right out of his hands.

With Dylan’s help, they managed to force the guards to the staircase door, which was the only way in or out of the facility. The terrorists took turns jumping out from behind the bend of the wall to fire, while Dylan watched their six. He periodically checked his bag, making sure the computer chips were still there. If he couldn’t make it out of this place alive, with the computer chips, Sean was dead.

A cluster of grenades rested on Kasaika’s belt, and Dylan plucked one off and chucked it down the hallway. Kasaika and the rest of his men hit the deck, and Dylan mimicked them, covering the back of his head. Screams from the guards echoed down the hallway, and the explosion shook the ground.

The flashing lights in the hallway shut off from the blast momentarily, casting everyone into darkness. Dylan scrambled on all fours, disoriented from the blast but moving where he thought was forward. A whine in his ears blocked the shouts around him.

Gunshots fired sporadically, the flash of the rifles’ barrels illuminating the darkness. Dylan pressed his hands against the cold, smooth, curving surface of the concrete and used that to guide him. He ran quickly, still holding the pistol in his hand. He collided with another body, and both fired randomly into the dark. Dylan jumped at the sound of the gunshot, but the moan came from someone else.

Finally, Dylan found the door handle to the stairwell, and the moment his hand touched the metal, the lights flashed on. At least three of the guards were dead, the rest with wounds ranging from severed legs and arms to shrapnel wounds. Dylan looked down to the terrorists scrambling forward, and before they could get to him, he rushed up the stairs.

Kasaika and the rest of his men shouted and screamed, firing blindly at Dylan as he climbed the steps two at a time. When he had his hand on the door handle to the floor above, he heard the quick thump of Kasaika’s footsteps getting closer.

Dylan ducked after a series of shots echoed up the stairs, and he quickly opened and shut the door behind him, sealing Kasaika and his men inside, unable to get out, as Dylan had the only key card. They pounded on the door, and Dylan took a moment to catch his breath. His breakfast tried to evacuate, but he managed to keep it down. He wiped the snot from his nose and rushed back down to the utility room where they’d entered.

The lights and sirens continued to flash, and when Dylan made it to the utility room, a unit of guards turned the corner. The reaction between sighting him and the gunfire was nearly instantaneous. Bullets whizzed by, and without even thinking about the repercussions, Dylan fired back, shooting one of the guards through the chest.

All three guards had assault rifles, but Dylan couldn’t afford to turn back. If he was caught, then his son’s life would be over. It didn’t matter if Cooper would be able to clear him of whatever charges they threw at him or what they’d be able to get out of Kasaika and his men in terms of a confession. The moment Perry found out what Dylan had done, Sean would be dead, unless he had something to bargain for, something he needed, like the computer chips in the bag at Dylan’s side.

Dylan fired into the cluster of guards, making a final sprint toward the door while he did. He balanced firing and running awkwardly, the gun nearly falling to the ground with each haphazard shot flung in the guards’ direction. He reached for the handle, and a hot sting pierced the upper left of his body, close to his neck, and he stumbled a few steps. He managed to keep the gun in his hand but fumbled with the key card. He leaned against the wall, using it to help stabilize himself.

Blood spurted from the cloth of Dylan’s shirt, and he felt his shoulder go numb. The gun in his hand grew heavy, and he finally managed to slide the card down the middle of the strip. He yanked it open and collapsed inside.

The pistol skidded across the floor, and Dylan crawled to the air duct. All he had to do was make it out of the facility. The cars were still waiting on the other end of the forest that they’d snuck through. He dumped one of the large server pillars across the entrance to the door, blocking the guards from trying to enter, or at least trying to enter easily.

Dylan lifted himself into the vent and crawled as fast as he could, elbows, knees, the top of his head all banging against the metal and concrete. Halfway through he no longer had the use of his arm and had to make the rest of the journey without it.

Throughout the crawl, he thought he could hear the shouts of men and gunfire. He constantly checked behind him, just waiting to see the barrel of a rifle ready to shoot him down. The moment he’d shot that guard, he had become a wanted fugitive and terrorist of the United States of America.