Brainrush 03 - Beyond Judgment (46 page)

“Better go now,” Becker said.

Jonesy nodded. He had the final frag. He glanced at Becker’s screen and adjusted his aim. Then he heaved the grenade in a flat arc. The enemy soldiers saw it fly. Several of them dodged back to their hiding spot behind the turbine. The grenade slid toward them. Jonesy grinned in satisfaction.

But instead of continuing its slide beneath the elevated turbine, the grenade vanished into a floor grate. Two beats later, there was a hollow thump deep beneath them. A spout of flame burst from the grate. None of the enemy was wounded.

“Shit! Time to get small,” Becker said. He took a breath and sank below the surface. The rest followed. They held on to the bundle of equipment to keep from being pulled downstream. Each of them grabbed the nearest regulator. The tanks still had plenty of air.

The water was eight feet deep. Becker hugged the bottom, rolling onto his back and staring at the surface, hoping like hell that Jake’s watch had been properly synced with the team’s.

Five seconds later, the world exploded. The cavern above the water went brilliant white. Becker’s ears popped, the lights went out, and the camera view on his wrist screen went black.

Sergeant Fletcher was the first to flick on his flashlight. He made an okay sign with his thumb and index finger, receiving one back from each of the team. Becker surfaced, and the rest followed. The air was hot and smoky. It smelled like scorched electrical wires. Shadows flickered on the walls of the darkened cavern. Becker donned his night vision goggles and peered over the lip.

Intermittent licks of flame danced around the mangle of ruined equipment. Steam hissed, sparks jumped, and an orange glow emanated from the grate that had swallowed the grenade. There were bodies everywhere. Several of them still moved. None of them looked his way.

Yet.

Becker heaved himself over the edge. “On the double,” he ordered into the mouthpiece of his headset. He crouched, bringing his M4 to the high ready position as he panned for threats.

Twenty seconds later, the rest of the team—except for Karch—was fanned out behind him.

“On me,” Becker said, running in a crouch toward the door. “Watch your corners. And know this,” he added, remembering the armed hard hats who had drilled Karch. “There’s no such thing as a civilian down here.”

Becker was as mad as a cut snake.

And darkness was his friend.

Grid Countdown: 0h:42m:00s and Holding

Banda Sea
6:51 a.m.

T
ONY’S VISION CLEARED.
He was on his back. He tried to sit up.

A hand on his chest held him down. “Don’t move,” the ship’s doctor said. “I’m not done yet.”

Tony lay back. He blinked several times to clear his foggy brain. He was onboard the yacht.

The doctor tied off a bandage around his thigh. “You need to stay off your feet for a while.”

“Bullshit!” Tony said, sitting up. His head swam for a moment. His leg burned. He grunted, shook his head again, and slid off the exam table. “How long have I been out?”

“Not long,” the doctor said. “They only gave you a short dose. But you lost a lot of blood.”

“Yeah, but no worries,” Cal said. He sat on the bed beside him. His left sleeve was rolled up. He had a bandage over the inside of his elbow. Tubes dangled from an IV stand between them. “We topped you off with top-grade surfer fuel.”

Tony saw a similar bandage on his own elbow. He nodded to the pilot. The glance they exchanged said it all, but Tony added,
“Don’t even think that means I’m going to be adding
dude
to my vocabulary.”

“Maybe not,” Cal said. “But you’re gonna have to live with your new call sign.”

“Huh?”

“Come on,” Cal said, getting to his feet. “They’re waiting on us in the control room.”

Tony winced when he took his first step. His head was still fuzzy from the drug, but he was too angry about being pulled out of the action to let it slow him down. Cal offered him a hand. Tony waved it off. “Let’s go,” he said, limping out the door. Cal followed.

When they entered the converted boardroom, Marshall, Kenny, and Timmy greeted him with fist bumps and slugs on the shoulder. Sergeant Major Abercrombie stood to one side. He fidgeted like a benched linebacker anxious to get in the game.

“Welcome back to the fight, BK,” Kenny said, sitting back down.

“BK?” Tony asked.

“Big Kahuna. Best dude on the beach.”

Tony rolled his eyes. Cal shrugged.

“Check it out,” Marshall said, swinging around his computer screen so Tony could see the streaming images of people praying. “We hijacked the island signal.”

Timmy pointed to a wall monitor and said, “And it’s having an impact.”

The grid countdown was on hold. At least for now. Tony felt a swell of hope. His thoughts rushed to his wife and kids back home. He might see them again after all.

“On the other hand,” Kenny interjected, “the tactical situation sucks.”

Tony listened intently to Kenny’s brief. He didn’t like what he was hearing.

“So, to sum it all up,” Tony said, “you’re telling me that we’re in the middle of the biggest fight of our lives, with nothing less
than the fate of the world hanging in the balance. Jake, Sarafina, and Alex are still MIA, we’ve lost contact with Becker’s team, and we’ve got two women and a kid undercover behind enemy lines.”

“I tried to stop them,” Marshall said defensively. “But Lacey wouldn’t have it. Neither would Francesca.”

“And if they went, Ahmed had to join them to complete the ruse,” Timmy added. “Otherwise, why bother?”

Tony hated it. But he understood. The infiltration wouldn’t have succeeded otherwise. The manifest called for two women and a child. He simply couldn’t reconcile the idea of their being in harm’s way without backup. He clenched and unclenched his fists, running through options in his head. But each one of them felt like a bull-in-a-china-shop approach that had zero chance of success. The remote turrets made the back door inaccessible. They knew about the hidden entrance to the inlet, but the defenses that were obviously there were invisible to them.

Maybe a small incursion force—

“Something’s happening,” Kenny announced, interrupting Tony’s thoughts. “The drone signal—” He cut off. His eyes went wide. His mouth gaped. “Holy shit! The island shield just went down!”

Tony rushed to his screen. The rest of them gathered beside him. Kenny adjusted the image from the circling drone.

“Way to go, Jake!” Marshall said.

It was more likely Becker, Tony thought. But he let it slide. He hoped like hell it
was
Jake. That would mean he was still alive.

“We’ve got ’em!” Timmy added.

Hell, yeah, Tony thought, staring at the overhead view of a huge hidden cove. It was dotted with boats, surrounded by structures, and served by an inlet to the sea. He searched the eyes of the men in the room. Each of them appeared ready to follow his lead.

“Are any of you content to be sitting on the sidelines right now?” he asked.

“No way!” Marshall said. The rest of them were just as quick to respond.

“The men are anxious to get to work,” the sergeant major added.

Tony blew out a breath. “Okay, here’s what we’re going to do.”

Grid Countdown: 0h:42m:00s and Holding

The Island
6:53 a.m.

A
N INTERMITTENT ALARM
sounded outside the room. The facility was going into lockdown mode.

“Your life will end in the next few minutes,” Victor said. He was calm and composed.

The words barely registered in Jake’s brain. He was still strapped in the chair. It was switched on. The computer leads running into the underside of the skullcap had been removed so it could once again be fitted over his head. Victor hadn’t yet lowered it into position. He stood beside him. His kit of torture tools was unrolled next to him. The fillet knife was back in its sheath.

But Jake’s focus was elsewhere.

Sarafina and Alex sat in the chairs across from him. Their mouths were gagged, their eyes were wide, and their hands were flex-cuffed on their laps. Alex’s tablet was propped against his belly. Hans stood beside them. The pistol he held was pointed in their direction. Alex tilted his head and stared at Jake as if he were waiting for something. He twirled his index finger in the air in the same way he had when they’d first met.

Jake understood. He opened his mind and felt his presence immediately. Sarafina’s, too. Each of them found strength from the bond.

“The Order has prepared for this day,” Victor said. “We’ve been transmitting our proclamation of peace for months. Ever since the first two pyramids appeared. The minor interruption of the signal in the last few minutes cannot change that. However, I will admit that it is imperative that the grid countdown be restarted. We can do that with your help…or without it.”

Jake didn’t like where this conversation was headed. But with any luck, it wouldn’t matter. He had his own countdown to worry about. So far, Victor had yapped for thirty seconds. Keeping the conversation going for the next ninety seconds was critical. “You expect me to help you?”

“That’s up to you,” Victor said. “You have two choices. Either link with the grid and find a way to restart the countdown, in which case your children shall be spared, or refuse, in which case they shall die in this room…”

As if to accent Victor’s words, Hans pulled the slide back on his pistol to chamber a round. Jake tensed when he pointed it at Sarafina’s head. She mewed.

Victor continued, “After which I will trigger the launch of nuclear missiles from six separate locations, including a US submarine. The targets have been carefully selected to ensure retaliation, especially in light of the current state of global panic. The result? World War III. The
real
war to end all wars. That should certainly be enough to restart the grid countdown, don’t you think?”

Jake’s shock must have registered on his face, because Victor smiled. “Don’t be so surprised. It wasn’t as difficult as you might imagine. After all, we’ve been embedding our people in all the requisite positions of authority for generations.

“So what’s it going to be? Give your children a chance to live long and fruitful lives as part of our community—on a planet rife
with life-supporting resources? Or trigger a nuclear winter that will poison the atmosphere and destroy most of the life on Earth, save those of us protected beneath the surface of our island?”

Victor paused before adding, “You have ten seconds to decide.”

Ten seconds wasn’t long enough, Jake thought. He needed twenty. “Okay, I’ll do as you ask. But first I have one thing to say.”

“And what is that?”

Jake focused his thoughts on the children, readying them for what was coming. Then he looked at Victor, counted down the last three seconds, and offered up his best Bruce Willis imitation. “Yippee-ki-yay, you sick bastard.”

Suddenly, there was a deep rumble beneath them. The floor shook, the chair switched off, and the room was thrown into darkness.

The gunshot from Hans’s pistol was deafening. The muzzle flash illuminated the scene like a flash camera. The still image froze on Jake’s retina: Sarafina’s determined expression. Her bound hands in contact with Hans’s wrist. The pistol partially dislodged from his grip. The look of surprise on his face. Alex sliding from his chair…

The pistol clattered to the floor. There was a patter of footsteps across the linoleum, and Jake felt fingers slide down his forearm toward the wrist strap. His son was trying to free him.

“Kill them all!” Victor shouted. It sounded like he had moved toward the door. A shadow disturbed the faint glow of a numeric keypad beside the exit, and Jake heard the tones of a code being entered.

A struggle across the room. A loud slap. A gagged whimper from Sarafina. Alex’s fingers fumbled at the buckle of Jake’s wrist strap. Heavy footfalls coming toward them. The snick of a switchblade.

The door flew open. Emergency lighting from the hallway spilled into the room. Three forms stood silhouetted in the doorway. “Mr. Brun!” a woman’s voice shouted. “This way!”