Carrion Virus (Book 2): The Athena Protocol (24 page)

In the canteen he pulled a blackened banana free from a bunch and placed it on a tray, moved along the counter, picked up yogurt, cereal and poured a steaming hot coffee.

Nobody seemed interested in his passing, most kept their own company or talked in hushed voices. All looked dreadful, stressed and tired. A perfect mirror for Holden.

Holden nodded to a woman in her robe. Her eyes were heavy, as if she was medicated. More than likely it was nightmares that kept her awake.

A ping from a microwave sounded near the kitchen. Holden shook a sachet of sugar and emptied it into his coffee. There were no spoons. He used a pen to stir. He pushed his glasses up onto his forehead, then wrapped his hands around the mug. The warmth was welcome and at the same time a little uncomfortable.

Holden had decide his course of action. He was still wanted by authorities over the breach in Aberdeen. Holden would surrender himself to the CAF forces and allow a thorough investigation to take place. He no longer cared about his reputation built on a lifetime of good work, now ruined by lies and consequence.

Eric would help him move from the hotel to the CAF barracks at the airport, he was sure. He would have to visit Jane in the field hospital and also thank Eric personally for rescuing him. Tomorrow would be a long day, but a welcome one, the day when Eugene Holden would be removed from the outbreak.

Holden sipped his coffee lost in thoughts of what would come.

An explosion erupted with the suddenness of overhead thunder. It rocked the building, and Holden spilled his drink, scalding his free hand. A second explosion forced Holden from his seat to his knees, and beneath the table. One of his companion diners screamed. The lights went out, plunging the room into darkness.

“Don’t panic,” shouted a male voice. “It’s a power outage. The grid must have been damaged. That’s what the explosions would have been.”

“Has anyone got a light?” asked a female voice, seconds away from tears.

“We should all try to reach each other,” the male said.

“No,” shouted Holden. “Stay where you are. You can’t see where you’re walking. You could hurt yourself. Stay where you are until the lights come back on.”

Beyond the canteen, someone screamed. Commotion, and raised voices. Strong, piercing beams of light moved toward them up the corridor from the reception area. The silhouettes of armed men in combat gear entered the canteen. They took up position at the door, standing either side. The torches moved along the canteen walls, and over the tables.

Why were they armed if they were there to help? The collective light from the new arrivals allowed Holden to see a small amount. One of the men who sat not far from Holden, stood and walked toward the new arrivals.

“You’ve got a lot of nervous people here, friends. We were starting to panic when the lights went out.”

The soldier who seemed to be directing others stepped forward, and drove the stock of his weapon into the face of the approaching man. He crumbled to the floor with a low grown. The leader stepped over the fallen man.

“We are looking for Doctor Eugene Holden. If he is here, he should make himself known.” He spoke with a heavily accented voice, possibly Afrikaans.

A stab of terror penetrated Holden’s core. Why did they know him by name? And searching for him?

“Make yourself know, Doctor Holden, and everyone else may go unharmed.”

More darkly clad men arrived. They brought with them Black Aquila staff gathered from the reception area. They were ushered over to the far side of the room, next to a long table.

“Doctor Holden? We are here for your protection.”

A Black Aquila guard locked eyes with the doctor, and shook his head in warning, a slight movement not seen by others.

Holden stayed on his knees.

“You’ll all be held here until we find the doctor. We cannot guarantee your safety.”

“There!” The woman in the robe stood from her seat and pointed. Her outstretched hand shook. “That’s Doctor Holden. There. On the floor.”

The leader shined a light into his face.

“Stand up, Doctor.”

Holden did as was bid, standing on legs that felt as though they could give way at any moment.

The leader gripped his face, turning it from side to side. “It is you.”

“What do you want?”

The leader clicked off the light, leaving Holden blinded.

“From you? Nothing, Doctor. Nothing at all.”

***

“What the hell was that?” Eric checked his weapon, making sure it was serviced.

Carter, grimacing with the effort of walking, leaned on the edge of the sofa.

“The hotel’s surrounded. They’ve taken out our sentries.”

“Who?” demanded Williamson, his face set to outrage.

“Doesn’t matter. They’re killing our people,” said Carter.

“How many?”

“A lot.”

Williamson opened a secured table safe, and pulled out a Glock and magazines.

“Eric, get us support from the CAF units at the airport,” said Williamson.

Eric crossed to the table where several laptops were networked. He picked up a radio receiver, hearing nothing but the dead tone and slammed it back to the cradle.

“The line’s cut. Satellite phone maybe?”

“We’d never get through. I don’t think nine nine nine works anymore.”

“We’re on our own then,” said Carter.

Heavy footfall came outside the room. Eric pushed himself to the wall, on the threshold of the door, holding his weapon ready. So much for quiet time, he thought. More people trying to kill him without apparent reason.

It was his team, armed and kitted out for a fight.

The lights in the room and corridor failed, plunging them into near darkness, the light from the laptop screens the only real source.

Williamson said, “We’re being attacked by forces not yet identified. We’ve no choice but to engage lethal force. I’m not your employer asking you to fight, we’re fighting for our lives, all of us. We fight. We win. You all go home.”

There was a rumble of agreement.

“Move out, sweep the floors, top to bottom. You know the drill.”

They filed out, Carter hobbling after them. Eric was about to follow, to take charge of his men when Williamson stopped him.

“Eric, when you asked about The Owls of Athena, I didn’t tell you the whole truth.”

“You’ve picked a difficult time to be honest, Ben.”

He spoke quickly. “Brutus came to me, a few days into our deployment here. He talked about an agency with a lot of resources looking for an in to the city and virus. The money was almost too good to question. He offered it all, and for a seemingly small price to ourselves. We needed to share key information with them, and allow certain operatives to work under our Black Aquila banner. Obviously, I had my company to think about. I couldn’t throw that away so I turned him down.”

“Brutus was the facilitator?”

“Yes.”

“The Owls of Athena and Brutus?”

“I don’t know how deep it runs, Eric. I promise you that. You know Brutus and his quest for money. He’d do anything.”

“He did everything, Ben. He killed your men. My men.”

“I needed everyone. I needed his experience. It was my mistake.”

“But Black Aquila has still been infiltrated by The Owls of Athena? That business with Doctor Holden in the forest and the research centre, they did it even though you turned them down?”

“If the money Brutus was offering was a fair assessment of resources they have access to, then I’ve no doubt they could pay off just about anyone.”

“And when we rescued Doctor Holden that put Black Aquila in direct conflict with The Owls?”

“Yes.”

“So the men outside are a kill team sent to remove us since we’ve now become a potential threat?”

“That’s what I assume.”

Eric shook his head. “If what you’ve told me is true, they’ll never stop until we’re eradicated.”

“I’ve got some ideas on what we should do next, Eric.”

“If we survive this, Ben, then we’ll talk.”

Ben loaded his Glock and followed Eric.

The two men reached the rest of the team. A few had tactical lights on the rails of their rifles. They shined their lights on a corpse, collapsed on the floor. A woman, her torso punctured by high-powered rounds. The window where she stood was cracked, two bullet holes sitting like beady eyes.

One of the team checked for a pulse. “She’s dead.”

“Move on,” ordered Eric. “Check the windows, they’ve got spotters out there.”

The team moved forward. More corpses littered the way. Eric squeezed through the narrow corridor, past his team standing two abreast. Williamson moved behind, heading toward the fore of the group. Eric turned and put a restraining hand on his shoulder.

“Forget it, Ben. You’re sticking to the rear.”

“You’re forgetting who is in charge, Eric. You don’t give the orders.”

Carter appeared at Williamson’s side. “Eric’s right. If we lose you this whole thing falls apart. They’re looking to cut off the head of Black Aquila, and that’s you. Stay to the rear, take no chances.”

“Carter, you stay with him.”

“Damn,” said Ben, letting the men traipse past him.

“They’re restricted to the ground floor, we clear the second, secure the stairs and move down.”

Eric moved forward, the team at his back moving silently behind. Events could accelerate into chaotic close combat in the dark. It would be messy, brutal and costly. Eric prayed Black Aquila moving on the offensive happened quicker than they predicted. If they could catch the assailants before they were organised, they might just get through this.

They passed down the corridor, ignoring the lifts rendered useless by the power cut. Holden’s room lay open, the door slightly ajar. Eric signalled a halt, switched on his tactical light and opened the door fully. He swept in, scanning for a threat. The darkened room stunk of body odour and damp washing. Dirty towels littered the floor, the bed unmade and clothes strewn upon the sheets. He checked the bathroom.

“He’s not here.” Eric marched out of the room. “Doctor Holden isn’t in his room.”

“Find him,” barked Williamson. “He’s important to us. He can’t have gone far, probably down to get some food from the canteen.”

Eric cursed Holden for leaving his room. If it was to get food it fitted his mood of late, creeping about at night to avoid as many people as he could. Eric had rescued him once, now he had to do it a second time.

They proceeded down the stairs from the third floor to the second. A handful of Black Aquila support staff had been roused by the explosions. Eric directed them up to the third floor, and convinced Carter and Williamson to watch the stairs to make sure no assailants managed to sneak behind and make their way above.

Eric approached the stairwell and pushed open the door. It creaked, echoing around the void. He stepped in, moved to the rail at the summit and aimed his weapon over the edge, illuminating below with his tactical light. Nothing but retreating shadows. Eric switched to hand signals and waved his team to follow. Their footfall fell impossibly loud, though he knew they were moving as quietly as a heavily armed military team could. Halfway down the stairs, Eric rounded the corner bringing him to the last set of stairs before arriving at the ground floor. He focused on the door, watching for any movement of the handle. He gripped his weapon tight, his shoulders set ready to receive the recoil. He summoned his battle calm to focus every aspect of his mind and body on what lay ahead. Beyond that door, that simple wooden door, a well-equipped military team was slaughtering whoever they found.

Eric took the last step and moved toward the door. His team split into two, each half taking position against the wall on opposite sides of the door.

“Breach and clear,” he whispered.

Brody and Cole approached the door, slipping their weapons down on their slings. Brody knelt by the handle, hand ready. Cole pulled a flash grenade from his pouch. The door opened up to the side of reception, to the right of the main entrance. If they were there in force then Eric and his men would be opening the door to instant battle.

Cole and Brody counted together. To three. Brody opened the door and stepped back. Cole threw the grenade, and stepped back covering his eyes. The grenade popped, a short dull explosion with an intense flash of light.

“Go!”

Cole stepped through the doorway, and into the dark. Eric followed close behind. The air ruptured with the hiss of weapon fire. Cole went down without a sound, riddled with bullets. Eric stepped over his comrade, and hunched his shoulders, bent his knees, making himself as small as possible.

Eric fired into reception, providing some much needed suppression fire. He rushed to one of the satellite reception desks, pushed his body against the reassuringly thick barrier. He pushed his weapon above the parapet and fired indiscriminately. Empty shells rattled across the tiled floor. More of his team joined him, all pushing themselves down to cover.