Hess checked his blueprints again and glanced back at the mercenaries in coveralls. “Winchell, you and your friends bring those big boxes and follow me.”
They continued back down the hallway from whence they came as the other mercenaries split up to head to their assigned positions. Hess breathed out. This was really happening now. He glanced back at one of the large, stainless steel boxes they were rolling down the concrete corridor, knowing exactly what was inside.
The cook who had confronted Hess earlier stepped out into the hallway. “Well finally you cocksuckers decided to show up!”
Hess found his second kill much easier. The cook coughed and collapsed to the concrete floor as three needles seemed to magically sprout from his chest.
The entourage moved on towards a back stairwell and Hess got in touch with Barkley once again. “This stairwell should lead down to the basement, correct?”
“That’s right. Get a move on, Hess, I’m disabling the security cameras and I can only have them out for two minutes without arousing suspicion.”
“I hear you.”
Hess raised a hand to indicate for his detail to wait. Moments later, he heard Barkley give the command over the voxcom.
“Cameras are out and security is back in position. You have two minutes, gentlemen.”
They pushed open the door to the stairwell and hurriedly carried the two large stainless steel crates down into the basement, Hess helping with the heavier of the two. The five men continued on down through the concrete corridor that ran through the foundations of the convention center, ducking around pipes and squinting to see in the grimy darkness, the only illumination from a handful of red small bulbs.
“Barkley, we’re in the basement heading north. When will we be in place?”
“There’s a turn in the corridor at one of the major pipes. Turn right there, and then follow the stairs down, and you’ll reach a dead end. That’ll be almost directly under the reception room and the conference chamber behind it. You have forty-five seconds.”
They hurried down the corridor and hung a hard right, hauling the two boxes into the small antechamber, which had various heating equipment hooked up to pipes.
“Okay, cameras are back. You guys down there?”
“We’re here. How does security look?”
“We’re in control of the building.”
Hess breathed out and looked at the four men who had accompanied him down into the depths of the convention center.
“Start unpacking. We’ve got half an hour.”
#
The event staff brought the dinner out right as the band finished their final tune, a roller coaster of percussion, trumpets, electric guitars and a variety of alien synthesizers. The audience rose to applaud, and the lead singer took a bow.
Godford stepped back to the podium. “Enjoy your dinner, ladies and gentlemen. In a few minutes, President Paine will say a few words before we begin the summit itself.”
Perry felt his voxcom buzzing in his pocket and he checked it. Barkley was calling.
Shit, he thought and looked around at the other guests at his table. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to use the restroom before I eat.” He slid out towards the edge, and noticed that the security guard who acknowledged him at the door was one of the mercenaries from the warehouse.
Good.
Perry moved briskly through the marble-floored lobby, seeing another mercenary playing the role of an SIS agent perfectly near the far door. They smiled at one another and tacitly nodded in turn, both aware that a camera feeding images to the convention center’s security room and SIS headquarters was right above them.
Once inside the men’s room, Perry entered one of the stalls and sat down, calling Barkley back. “What’s wrong?”
“SIS headquarters just called. We have a serious problem, Mr. Perry.”
“Which is what?”
“The alarm in the director’s office went off. Some agents went upstairs to investigate and found Cray shot in the head and Vosen with his neck broken.”
“Only Gresham…” Perry muttered. “Okay, thank you. Anything else I need to know?”
“Well, obviously SIS is in complete lockdown. What a fucking mess…”
“Call it off if you can. Gresham’s on his way already.”
“Who?”
Perry sighed. “It’s not important. I’ll have Dakkal take care of it with his men. There’s no way one intelligence analyst and a single krokator can take on that many commandos.”
“Eli, the LAPD is going to swing by the convention center if they think there’s a threat, and SIS going into lockdown certainly gives that impress–”
He hung up on Barkley and called up Dakkal instead.
“Perry,” the deep voice of the krokator purred over the line. “We are standing by to assault the convention center if needed. We have already neutralized a number of security personnel off-site.”
“Change of plans,” Perry said. “It looks like we have control of the building and we weren’t even detected. We have thirty minutes until Hess arms the bomb, which leaves your friend Sharm Zurra plenty of time to come here and disrupt our operation.”
“Sharm Zurra! But he is with Jurkken, to be delivered to Grakko.”
“It doesn’t look like he’s there anymore. Apparently, he managed to escape the Zone along with his human friend and they’ve already managed to kill our friend at SIS headquarters. There’s only one logical place they’ll come next.”
“We will intercept them on the bridge, and I will send Zurra back to the Origin World where he belongs personally.”
“You do that,” Perry said and hung up. This would hopefully afford them more time.
He hurried back through the lobby and gracefully returned into the reception room without arousing any suspicion, checking his watch as he sat down. Twenty-six minutes left.
#
“How long do we have?” Zurra asked as Gresham weaved in and out of traffic on the southbound lanes of the Catalina Bridge. They had lucked out and gotten onto the speedier top deck and were exceeding seventy miles per hour, well over the posted speed limit.
“I have no idea. They could be storming the place with heretics as we speak, or be planting a bomb of some kind….” Gresham paused. “A bomb. That’s it.”
“What do you mean?”
“It makes perfect sense. Why else would Hess risk murdering hundreds of innocent people and using a hit squad of krokator unless…”
“…there was no proof left behind,” Zurra finished. “They will blow up the convention center and if Dakkal or any of his men are left behind, then they have given their lives for their barbaric cause.”
“Hess must have an escape route.”
“Cooker of foods, something here seems wrong. I do not see why Hess would risk attending the conference if he were to be caught in the blast.”
“He probably isn’t at the summit unless he’s confident enough that he’ll get out in time. They’d want to maximize casualties, probably by putting the explosives underneath the target…”
“So maybe they have placed a bomb in the basement?”
“That has to be it.” Gresham said. “So when we get there, we need to be prepared for anything. We’re only ten minutes from the island, I think we’ll be in time.”
Zurra pointed forward along the bridge. “Cooker of foods, what are those large vehicles doing up ahead?”
Gresham slowed down. Two hundred yards away, two large, unmarked SHIPRs swerved into oncoming traffic and parked horizontally in a makeshift wall across the deck.
He screeched to a halt as an okka dart ricocheted off the hood of the HUVR and a second needle punctured the windshield, embedding in the reinforced glass.
“Holy shit!”
Zurra checked his own gun. “I do not have many needles left. Only a clip and a half, cooker of foods.”
Large, dark krokator were hopping out of the SHIPRs and fanning out through the stopped traff
ic. Civilians abandoned their cars and scattered as the needles began flying.
“They are going to kill everyone that tries to get off the bridge,” Zurra said in horror. “They are here for us, cooker of foods.”
Gresham threw the HUVR into reverse as needles clacked off the windshield and sides of the vehicle. A screaming civilian fell to the ground as he was struck by two of the whizzing barbs of death. The enemy krokator started taking up positions behind abandoned HUVRs, the SHIPRs forming a fallback defense to their rear.
“It is Dakkal and his heretics,” Zurra muttered. “They are dressed for war.”
A needle made it all the way through the windshield, falling flatly into the backseat after expending all its momentum to get through the glass. Gresham spun the HUVR sideways and pulled to a stop, hopping out of his door and crawling low to the ground. The HUVR touched down to the pavement, blocking him from harm.
Zurra hauled his way out as well and kneeled next to Gresham. “There are more than a dozen of them!”
There were screams as an explosion rumbled and a nearby HUVR went up into flames, causing a huge fireball.
“They must have buster guns, too.”
“Christ,” Gresham muttered under his breath and double-checked the handgun he had taken from Vosen. There were nine bullets left and the magazines he had from Jurkken’s weapons cache were for a different caliber of gun.
“We have to get through there,” Gresham said as the bridge shook from another exploding HUVR.
“How do you plan to achieve that, cooker of foods?”
Gresham peered over the top of the HUVR to observe the enemy. “They’ve got us blocked off. If we could distract them, I could maybe get down to the next deck and find a way onto the island.”
“That is a task you must face alone,” Zurra said. “It is me Dakkal wants, and he is my quarry, not yours. This will end here.”
“You can’t take on all of them on your own!” Gresham cried in shock.
“Believe me, cooker of foods, I have faced worse odds,” Zurra admitted. “Open the back compartment and give me the other guns.”
“You’re out of your mind.”
“I may be, but Frusrand guides my path, and I lay my trust in a greater power,” Zurra said and gestured upwards. “You are only wasting time staying here. I will cover for you while you move down to the next deck and find a new vehicle.”
Gresham crawled back to the driver’s door of the HUVR and popped open the trunk for Zurra. The krokator quickly pulled both the okka rifle and Triple-One out of the back and slipped his shoulder through both straps, and then tucked his okka gun into his boot.
“You’re one crazy son of a bitch,” Gresham observed, “but it’s been a pleasure, Zurra. I’ll see you again.”
“In this world or the next,” Zurra said and extended his hand. Gresham grasped it, patted their clasped fists with his other hand and nodded in encouragement. “Now go! I will give you covering fire.”
Gresham got up and darted for the nearest side of the bridge, which was only twenty yards away. Two needles bounced off the asphalt by his feet and he hurled himself behind an abandoned HUVR.
“Now!” Zurra cried and rose up, revealing that he had at some point fired a Triple-One before. Two exposed heretics cried in pain and fell with bullet wounds and the glass of several HUVRs shattered as Zurra pinned the Hudda Kugrall down with his suppressing fire.
Gresham tucked his sidearm into the back of his pants and sprinted to the edge of the bridge, tossing himself around the side and holding on for dear life.
Zurra moved around to the front of Lara’s HUVR and let go of the Triple-One, letting it dangle at his side. He instead brandished his pistol and carefully fired a few needles with lethal precision. The glass he had shot out no longer protected the krokator taking shelter behind the abandoned vehicles and three fell in quick succession.
He’ll be just fine, Gresham thought and found a footing on a metal crossbar beneath him. Reminding himself to not look down, he slowly climbed down along the crossed metal beams that ran along the sides of the second deck. There was a strong wind and he heard the chatter of the Triple-One above him. Gresham shut his eyes and clung tight to the beam as another explosion rattled the bridge and his foot nearly slipped.
It must be at least a few hundred feet down to the water. He felt another rattle as something right above him went hurtling over the edge of the bridge. Instinctively, he turned his head to see the flaming body of a krokator plunging down towards the water.
Gresham crawled around the beam and threw himself down onto the bridge’s second deck. His heart was racing and he shook his head quickly to snap back to attention.
Did I really just do that?
Most of the HUVRs on this deck were stopped and their drivers had stepped outside of their vehicles to try to discern what the commotion above was. Gresham briskly approached a confused older man standing next to a closed-top HUVR near the edge of the stopped traffic.
“Any idea what’s going on up there?”
“No, but I know what’s going on right here,” Gresham said and pulled his gun on the man. “I’m with Military Intelligence and I need your vehicle.”
“What in the name of…”
Gresham clicked the hammer back. “You think I’m kidding?”
The old man stepped aside. “Ignition’s on, just go, I don’t want trouble.”
Gresham tossed the gun onto the passenger seat and got in. “Come by the Catalina Convention Center to pick it up later… if there is a convention center later.”
He spun the wheel and zoomed off down the bridge, praying he still had enough time as he punched a number into the car’s built-in voxcom.
#
Hess tapped his foot impatiently against the ground and shot a glance at his watch again. Eight forty-five.
His bomb-maker, Winchell, was still measuring out the MV5 compounds with the portable chemistry set he had brought in a black duffel bag, weighing the different components out and testing them in beakers.
“We haven’t got all night,” Hess said breathlessly and glanced around. “We could be discovered any minute.”
“With Barkley upstairs? Doubt it,” Winchell answered and poured a healthy portion of the black ingredient into a vial. “I have to measure a thousand grams exactly of both substances, so if you would give me a moment, Mr. Hess?”
Hess grimaced but said nothing. There was an uncomfortable silence down in the basement and he sensed that something was awfully wrong.
Not that it really mattered much anymore. He watched the other three men who had accompanied him down into the basement open the two steel crates and pull a long, wide cylinder out of each and carefully place it on the ground.
Winchell shot a glance at Hess. “What’s in those?”
“Spent ship discharge. Highly radioactive.”
“Where’d you dig that up? A cargo freighter?”
“Something along those lines. Why don’t you focus on your job, mm?” Hess crouched down and put a hand on the cold metal of the containment tube. “The metal isn’t too thick, is it?”
“About two and a half inches,” one of the men replied. “It should do just fine with the explosives.”
Winchell regarded the two cylinders as he filled another vial with MV5. “So we blow the paste here with all that radioactive waste? Is that the plan?”
“Your powers of observation are laudable,” Hess muttered. “Yes, essentially. The MV5 goes off, spreading the toxic waste into the air and polluting the explosion site, killing any potential survivors. It’s not as effective as frying people with real radioactive waves but it’ll leave a psychological imprint. Scare tactics.”
Winchell shrugged. “You’re the boss.” He pulled a bottle of water out of his back pocket and poured a small amount into each vial. He smiled as the compounds sizzled and formed into the malleable putty. “Where do I put this, Mr. Hess?”
“Spread it on the floor over there
. We want it blowing the waste upwards, right?” Hess looked at the three mercenaries hanging around. “Well don’t just stand there, make yourselves useful!”
They set to work and Hess watched them work carefully. He grabbed the picture of his son in his pocket, nearly crumpling it, and placed his other hand on the gun tucked into his belt.
He was ready.
#
Zurra ducked as a buster pellet smashed through the windows of a HUVR directly over his head and exploded in midair not ten yards away, throwing him into the side of the vehicle. An okka needle followed the pellet closely.
In response, Zurra threw himself sideways, seeing beyond the very front of the HUVR, and flicked the trigger of his Triple-One repeatedly, hitting the feet of his two attackers. There were two roars of pain and the painted and costumed commandos toppled to the ground.
“Kill him! It is only one soldier,” he heard a voice roar, a bellow he partially recognized as Dakkal’s.
Yes, I am only one soldier, Zurra thought and checked the ammunition in his human gun. But I am the only soldier like me. He noticed a shadow out of his peripheral and saw a heretic circling around to his side. Zurra raised his okka rifle and opened fire, but his new enemy ducked aside before glancing over the edge of a flipped HUVR, sizing up the distance between his target and his gun.
Before he could shoot at the exposed Zurra, however, machine gun fire tore through several of the nearby HUVRs, sending shards of glass and metal flying through the air and pelting Zurra like hot sleet. He glanced up and saw an atmospheric gunship circling above, the whine of its engine rattling the bridge. There was another burst of machine gun fire from the gunship and the HUVR his assailant was using as cover exploded in a glorious eruption of fire, the corpse of the heretic being thrown from the bridge.
Zurra then saw the gunship’s weapons rotate to face him and he realized that he was just as much the target as the Hudda Kugrall.
He flung himself over his HUVR, rolling on the other side as a rain of sizzling metal ripped the vehicle to pieces only five yards away. Zurra ducked behind another HUVR, whose back was sliced off by another targeted flurry.
“Retreat! Fall back!” he heard Dakkal scream as two more of heretics were gunned down from the air. Zurra peered over the edge of the bridge and saw two more gunships approaching low over the water from the south.
A smoke contrail emerged from one of them and veered sharply upwards. Zurra curled up into a ball between the HUVR and concrete barrier of the top deck as the remotely-controlled rocket crested the lip of the bridge and slammed into the front of one of the parked SHIPRs. The cab of the transport vehicle detonated, sending shrapnel whizzing in every direction and the back was turned onto its side as only a crackling, flaming shell.