Authors: Duane Swierczynski,Anthony E. Zuiker
Dark Revelations (43 page)
“S
o what are we really up against?” Riggins asked.
o what are we really up against?” Riggins asked.
They were on their way to Global Alliance HQ in a government SUV—also arranged by Riggins back in the United States. France’s General St. Pierre, who had coordinated with them on the Sqweegel case five years ago, felt enough gratitude to Riggins and Special Circs to loan them not only the vehicle and some weapons, but a small outfit from the Commandement des Opérations Spéciales to help secure Global Alliance HQ.
It was Riggins’s peculiar genius that he could arrange for an assault in Paris, using French special forces, without going through the usual channels. Because there wasn’t time to go through the usual channels—and the last thing he wanted was to spark an international panic.
Over the phone, interrupting the general’s Christmas Eve feast, Riggins had framed it simply: following up on a Labyrinth loose end.
“Labyrinth has been captured, correct?” General St. Pierre had asked. “I’ve been keeping one ear on the radio.”
“Yes, but he had a conspirator working inside Global Alliance.”
“Which is why Global Alliance does not want to send their own team to secure their own facilities. I understand.”
“Yeah,” Riggins had said, unable to help himself. “They called in Special Circs to give them a hand.”
Conveniently omitting the part about the possible nuclear weapon hidden in the catacombs under Paris.
But now the bullshitting was over, and Riggins wanted to know about the odds they were facing. For real.
“It’s not going to be pretty,” Dark said, then told him about Global Alliance HQ. Very few ways in and out. Guarded at all times by ex–special forces soldiers
handpicked by Hans Roeding
.
handpicked by Hans Roeding
.
When he was dying, and Roeding spoke the words—
“Enter the maze.”
—he was preparing them with a secret code.
They would be prepared to fend off any invaders.
The last time Dark was here at Global Alliance HQ, he was escorted by these private guards, many of them mercs and black ops professionals. They were trained to fight fierce—and dirty. They had no idea what they’re protecting, and Dark suspected they didn’t care. Their paychecks were
fat
. They could not be reasoned with—not once a command was given.
fat
. They could not be reasoned with—not once a command was given.
The only way past them was to blitz them.
Riggins divided the French special ops guys into strike teams, then handed Dark a radiation detector. “Here. In case we all
do
make it past those guards alive.”
do
make it past those guards alive.”
“How did you explain these to General St. Pierre?”
“Told him we suspected a Labyrinth agent may have poisoned the water down here.”
Before they parted, Dark put a hand on his mentor’s shoulder.
“Riggins,” Dark said, “listen, just in case . . .”
“Hey, save it for after we kill the bad guys and save Paris, okay?”
“Okay,” Dark said. But the words that were about to tumble out of his mouth weren’t exactly an apology. He wasn’t sure he could ever forgive Riggins for hiding the truth. Not that it mattered now, anyway—they could all be dead in a matter of minutes.
While Riggins led a team through the parking garage, Dark’s team assaulted the other weak link—the backup entrance at a sewer junction. Of course,
led
was a misnomer—Dark stayed behind the half-dozen soldiers as they stormed down the fetid and gunk-caked pipe, moving so quickly it was difficult to keep up with them. Dark wore body armor but insisted on carrying a Glock 19, the weapon he was most familiar with. No sense carrying an automatic weapon unless you’ve spent weeks upon weeks with it.
led
was a misnomer—Dark stayed behind the half-dozen soldiers as they stormed down the fetid and gunk-caked pipe, moving so quickly it was difficult to keep up with them. Dark wore body armor but insisted on carrying a Glock 19, the weapon he was most familiar with. No sense carrying an automatic weapon unless you’ve spent weeks upon weeks with it.
A French special ops leader whispered something and gestured with two fingers, but Dark did not have a chance to understand because within a fraction of a second the entire pipe was full of gunfire.
The Global Alliance mercs had not waited for the invaders to fire the first shot. They opened up a fusillade of bullets from the first hint of trouble in the pipe. No doubt they’d already radioed their teams guarding the other entrances.
Dark crouched down, waiting to take his shot—no use blasting away in the dark and smoke and confusion. A special ops soldier fell to his right, his forehead blasted open. Fuck. Dark stepped forward, saw a blur at the far end of the pipe. He squeezed the trigger, and followed the blur the best he could.
The brutal engagement felt like an eternity to Dark, and it occurred to him that maybe this is what it felt like when you were about to die—the last seconds of your life, elongated to almost infinity.
Then there was a horrible, eardrum-spiking blast and hot relentless fire in his face and then he realized this was it—this
was
death.
was
death.
chapter 89
DARK
T
he Glock was still in his hand.
he Glock was still in his hand.
That was the first thing Dark was aware of when he regained his senses:
The Glock was still in his hand.
And there was movement all around him.
Someone pressed fingers to the side of his throat. Something else pressed up against his temple.
The barrel of a gun.
Opening his eyes would mean instant death. Death was going to come in a second anyway, because in one second the merc crouching down next to him would feel the beat of the blood in his carotid artery and then he would pull the trigger, blasting through skull and brain and that would be the end.
So Dark kept his eyes shut and squeezed the trigger, the bullet smashing through the sewage and into the merc.
A gunshot popped LOUD right next to his head—the merc squeezing off one last shot and missing by the slimmest of margins.
When Dark finally opened his eyes and scrambled backward until he reached the edge of the pipe, he saw the devastation all around him, and realized what had happened. Someone—either the mercs, or the French special ops—had set off a grenade. That was the only thing that could explain the horrible twisted bodies around him, and why Dark could hear no sound outside of the thundering of his own heart. Dark wondered if Labyrinth would find that amusing. Threaten to puncture a man’s eardrums, and karma pays you back.
Dark slowly rose from the bottom of the pipe and made his way forward. The face of his watch had been shattered, but if the time was still accurate, they had only three minutes left.
There was no sign of anyone else inside Global Alliance HQ. The mercs must have cut the power immediately and put the entire facility in lockdown mode. So here was Dark, mostly deaf and almost blind, looking for a container the size of a dirty nuke, somewhere down here. A weapon that could have been placed here God knows when—weeks? Months? Maybe even years ago? Julian Blair could have been spying on his own brother since the very beginning—since the moment he arranged for the use of this space.
Two and a half minutes now.
Dark unclipped the radiation detector from his belt and hit the power button. Nothing happened. He tried it again—nothing. Fucking no.
NO.
The radiation detector, which must have been damaged in the blast, was dead.
If Labyrinth could see Steve Dark now, he would surely be howling in delight. The one man who could stop him was now literally lost in the maze of his own making, blind and deaf and lacking the artificial sense that could save him, that could have saved them all....
Two minutes now.
Fuck it.
Dark would spend his last seconds on earth searching anyway.
Riggins was on the floor of Damien Blair’s office, sitting like a kindergartener, legs splayed. Dark saw the other radiation detector on the floor to Riggins’s right, as well as a steel box between his legs. He’d done it. He’d found the damned thing. Hidden all this time in a secret compartment under Blair’s own desk.
Brothers, to the last.
Riggins must have heard the movement and spun around with a gun in his hand. Sorrow washed over his face when he saw that it was Dark.
Now Dark could see the contents of the box—the most important being the digital timer, telling them there were only forty-seven seconds remaining.
Can you hear me?
Riggins asked, gesturing to his own ears.
Riggins asked, gesturing to his own ears.
The words were muffled, but Dark nodded. Yeah, I can hear you.
Everybody else is dead,
Riggins said.
They died so that I could get in here. But what good is that? I have no fucking idea how to stop this thing.
Riggins said.
They died so that I could get in here. But what good is that? I have no fucking idea how to stop this thing.
Dark kneeled down next to his mentor and now saw how damaged he was. He’d taken at least one bullet, because blood was pooling around his legs. The smear on the floor told Dark that Riggins had literally crawled in here, fucking radiation detector in hand, hoping against hope to find the bomb.
And he had.
And there was absolutely nothing he could do to stop it.
Thirty-five seconds remaining.
You didn’t by chance take a course in any of this stuff, did you?
Gallows humor from Riggins. Dark looked into the box and saw, beneath the tangle of wires, a wooden maze. The kind you’d use in a lab experiment to test mice and their memories. Nothing fancy—probably something that a grad student labored to build over a long weekend, gluing the barriers and painting the wooden slats a neutral color. The timepiece was in the middle, at the heart of the labyrinth.
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