Running With The Horde (Book 2): Delusions of Monsters (25 page)

“So which is it, you don’t know him or you do?”

“Stop being an ass, Wendell, you know what I meant.” Bill said.

“Why did Chip Fielding contact you with the information?” Wendell asked.

“I’ve been over this; we were colleagues, years ago. We’ve since both retired from active service.”

“Right. Colleagues. In a secret clandestine organization nobody has ever heard of,” Morris said, disbelief dripping from his lips like saliva.

“You wouldn’t have heard of the DIA. We were black budget operations. Cold war stuff. We didn’t officially exist. I couldn’t talk about it then and I can’t now other than to tell you that’s how I knew Chip.”

“That’s very convenient,” Wendell said sarcastically. “Mr. Shipman was a part of the gang as well?” Bill nodded and Wendell continued, “And Mr. Lewis? He seems a bit young for retirement. Should I assume then that he is still an active member of this secret organization?”

“Mr. Lewis is my employee. He is responsible for research and investigations at my security firm. Nothing more.”

“Yeah, right,” Morris mumbled under his breath.

“If I knew anything at all, I would certainly tell the feds, right? That’s you, isn’t it?” Bill asked with a slight grin. “I’ve got callouses on my fingers from all the phone calls I’ve made the last few days. I don’t know what else you want from me. You have everything I received in the mail from Chip.”

“Tell you what, Mr. McCloud,” Wendell said, “Why don’t we try this another way? I will show you mine and then you can decide if you’ve shown me all of yours.

“Wendell, I don’t thi-“

“No, its fine, Morris, Bill is right. He has been nothing but cooperative and we’ve been terrible hosts. At approximately 2100 hours last Monday evening, a group of people working in a highly sensitive area of Andrews Air Force Base engaged in an act of terror and treason that resulted in the death of over 100 Air Force personnel and the total devastation of that facility. In the process they managed to steal some highly classified and dangerous materials. We believe Andrew Penrod was their ringleader.

“We assume they intend to carry out an additional act of terror only on a much larger stage, as in the world. It is beyond imperative they are located and captured before they can carry out their plans.”

“If this is about the flu outbreak then I believe that ship has already sailed,” Bill said. Agent Morris and Agent Wendell said nothing. “Do you have any idea where they went after they escaped?” Bill asked.

“We were able to trace a flight from just outside of Vegas down to Tulsa and then to a small airport here in Minneapolis. From there the trail is cold but maybe you can help us,” Wendell said.

“Were you able to locate the pilot?” Bill asked.

“Right after his plane crashed.”

“I see,” Bill said, “I already told you I don’t know anything. Everything you just said was news to me so I don’t understand how you think I can help you.”

Wendell said, “We have reason to believe they are holed up downtown.”

“Based on what?”

“That is classified information, Bill, I am afraid you don’t have the clearance.”

Bill did his best to suppress a smile at that comment. “Like I said, I can’t help you. I don’t know anything.”

“That’s very unfortunate, Mr. McCloud,” Wendell said as he stood and nodded to Agent Morris. “I will give you and Agent Morris some privacy and see if he can’t change your mind.”

Bill turned to look at Morris. The man was rolling up his shirt sleeves with an evil grin on his face. Bill took a deep breath and resigned himself to his fate. Something had clicked for him during Wendell’s description of Andrew’s escape from Area 51. Something that he believed would lead him to Andrew’s current location. He just had to survive long enough to let Derrick do his thing.

An hour or so later Bill was taken from the interrogation room down an ancient musty corridor to an old fashioned jail cell. Shipman and Derrick were already inside. Morris had roughed him up enough to require that he lean on one of the guards to prevent himself from falling down while another guard unlocked the cell door. Derrick leapt to his feet like a cat at the sight of Bill’s face but one of the guards had his gun trained on him so there was really nothing he could do.

They pushed Bill through the door and he stumbled to the cold cement floor coming to rest near Shipman’s legs. The man with the gun turned his attention to Derrick, “You are coming with us. I need you to put your arms through the slot so we can cuff you,” he said.

“You okay, Bill?” Derrick asked as he complied with the order.

He squinted up at Derrick through swollen eyes. What they needed more than anything right now was a way out of here. “I’m fine, Derrick, just another day navigating the maze of Minneapolis bureaucracy. You know what happens when you stir the pot,” Bill said.

Derrick grunted as they led him away, the message was received.

“What happens when you stir the pot?” asked Shipman as he helped Bill to his feet and settled him on the metal bench.

“A real shit storm,” Bill replied quietly.

“I don’t know what that means.”

“You’ll find out soon enough,” Bill said.

It was maybe 30 minutes later when the gunfire and screaming started. Perhaps another 15 minutes before Bill and Shipman heard the heavy steel door that guarded the main entrance to the old cell block being unlocked. Then came the sound of two men moving quickly down the center of the block and keys jangling. One man seemed to be crying and the other was silent but breathing heavy like a bear.

The guard came into view first. He looked like he had been hit by a car. His right leg was broken but he was hopping gamely along on his good leg. The agonized and terrified look on the man’s face spoke volumes as to the epic shit storm he was currently enduring. Derrick came along behind him armed like he’d just walked off the set of an 80’s action flick. He had a small cut on his neck but other than that looked no worse for the wear.

“This one of the fuckers that messed you up, Bill?” asked Derrick while they waited for the hapless guard to unlock the door.

Bill looked the whimpering man up and down, “No, it wasn’t him.”

“Oh well, sorry, dude,” Derrick said before smacking him on the back of the head with the butt of the assault rifle. “Let’s go gents,” he said to Bill and Shipman, “The cavalry is gonna be here soon and we need to be gone. I’m good but I’m not superman.”

Between Shipman and Derrick they wrangled Bill out of the dungeon and up a couple of flights of stairs. Bill noted the bodies of several men scattered about. Some of them were wearing suits and others guard uniforms. “Sheesh, Derrick, how many men did you drop?”

“Feds at that,” added Shipman.

“They weren’t FBI any more than we are,” Derrick said, “and I stopped counting after ten.”

They pushed through a door that said exit and found themselves on the main floor of the Government Center and right into the lunch hour of John Q. Public. The building wasn’t as busy as usual given the flu scare but the sight of the three men still caused quite a stir. They moved as fast as they could through the crowd. A security guard made for the radio on his belt but froze after a cold stare from Derrick.

“I wonder how they didn’t hear that gunfire.” Bill said.

“There was some pretty sophisticated sound proofing down there,” Derrick said. “Whoever those people were, we just escaped from a place where they’ve been pulling fingernails uninterrupted for years.”

The crossed the sidewalk to a cab and were inside before the terrified cabbie could speed away.

“Head north out of the city and floor it,” Bill said.

“If you boys wouldn’t mind, just drop me off at the next corner and I will make my own way home,” Shipman said.

“Oh, hell no. You’re the ace in the hole. Those morons had the answer to their question rotting away in that cell with us and didn’t even know it,” Bill said.

“What the hell are you talking about? I will tell you the same thing I told them. I know nothing!” Shipman raged.

“Shipman,” Derrick growled, “today is not a good day to lie.” The gangly man seemed to shrivel under Derrick’s gaze and he uttered no further protest.

They had the cabbie drop them off in the North Loop. Bill threw a hundred dollar bill at him and waited impatiently until he sped away. They moved one block east and piled into another cab which took them to South Minneapolis. Three more random taxis from different companies took them around the city until they ended up on the eastside at an apartment complex in a part of town one might consider rough. Derrick kept a safe house there under an alias. Bill had chided him for years about not letting it go. The chances they would ever need such a thing seemed slim. Now he was relieved Derrick hadn’t listened.

There were people loitering in the large commons area of the property. They started moving in the direction of Bill and Shipman but turned around immediately when they spotted Derrick who had been dealing with the cab driver. “C’mon, fellas,” he said, “My royal suite awaits.”

The apartment itself had seen better days but it was clean and well stocked. All three men took turns with the facilities and got themselves squared away from their ordeal in the bowels of the Government Center.

Bill threw together some food which included grilled cheese, coffee and bourbon and the three men gathered around the tiny kitchen table. “More I’m thinking about it, I don’t think those guys were FBI,” Bill said sarcastically.

“They could have been feds but they were something else as well,” Derrick added. “Any thoughts, Shipman?”

“Time to come clean, Nolan. Whatever side you thought you were on. Those guys now think you are with us. I’m thinking Derrick and I are your best chance to see another day,” Bill said.

Nolan blanched; he looked like he had been through hell. He simply nodded as he took a small bite from his grilled cheese. “They first made contact with me about 15 years ago,” he said between mouthfuls. Bill did a spit take at this revelation but Shipman ignored him. “It was always by phone or courier. I know I’ve talked to more than one person but I’ve only ever known them by the code name Control.”

“What did they want with you?” Derrick asked.

“As you know I have done quite a few real estate deals for the government as well as some private parties over the years after the DIA disbanded. You probably won’t be surprised to learn they weren’t all entirely on the up and up,” he added sheepishly. “I built kind of a reputation as someone who could make things happen and keep things quiet.

“Make what kinds of things happen?”

“Fill in the blank; motivate a stubborn seller, set up business fronts that seem legitimate, hell, you name it I’ve done it. I only worked through trusted referrals and I wasn’t cheap. I guess that’s how they found me. Started having me make discreet real estate purchases here in the city as well as a handful of other places around the country. Wasn’t too long before they were my only client and I still had no fucking idea who I was dealing with. But I was able to piece together a few things. I learned they are a syndicate with a vast and powerful network. Their reach appears to be everywhere.”

“Funny they’d never heard of the DIA?” said Bill.

“All I can figure there,” Shipman said, “is that the DIA was built by someone who was aware of the Syndicate and wanted to put a few pieces on the board that were purposefully kept outside their reach. Didn’t you think it was funny that funding for the DIA just stopped all of a sudden? Like somebody turned off the power? It was almost as though somebody at the very top got spooked and just shut everything down very discreetly and counted on his assets to be smart and go away quietly. You’ll note guys like us don’t typically get to retire. We all just went with the flow and moved on with our lives.”

“Some of us better than others apparently,” Bill said.

“You don’t need to gloat, Bill, I’ve made some poor choices. But, damn, the money was so good! I made so much I started building my own empire, discreetly of course.”

“Who is gloating now?”

“Hell, you had your chance to get in. Every time I saw you I said I had business ventures I wanted to discuss with you. My partners and I would have welcomed someone with your experience.”

“The fact you could have used someone with wet work expertise speaks volumes as to the quality of the business ventures you had in mind. I’m glad I had the good sense to pass. As to your partners, are they still alive?”

“I was discreet. I only dealt with people of similar qualities to me. I can assure you they are alive and well.”

“So they are snakes?”

Nolan ignored him again, “I was DIA too, remember? Hell, those assholes are probably going to be set-up better than anyone when the shit hits the fan.”

“So you believe that message from Andrew Penrod is the real deal?”

“Don’t you watch the news? Of course it’s real and I think it’s already started. Look, I’ve known this Syndicate was planning on doing something terrible for a long time. I just had no idea what it would be and I was in too deep to do anything about it. I realized long ago that if I went public I would be a laughing stock or they would kill me so I kept quiet. I assumed it would be some kind of coupe attempt or a regime change or a war. I thought greed and power was the driving force but Andrew’s super virus means it is something else entirely.”