Weapons of the Gods

CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT

All hell had broken loose.

It quickly became apparent that a member of their team ran in the worst of harm’s way, fighting for her life. Suddenly everything began to escalate.

Lauren’s voice was strained and full of terror, humming desperately down the line thousands of miles away on the other side of the world.

“I’m out… I’m free… shit, wait.”

The whispered fear made Drake bunch his fists, desperately wishing he could help. Smyth was beside himself. Hayden had been trying to find out what was happening for six minutes now, but Lauren was fighting a lethal cat-and-mouse game.

Absolute silence descended in the back of the cargo chopper. It was at rest, sitting on a dark runway in a dark corner of Egypt, just waiting for a call to action.

What next?

They hadn’t expected this.

Lauren’s breath caught in her throat. There were no words among the team; even Alicia and Kenzie sat in silence and with utmost concern on their faces. Lauren’s next comments were barely audible.

“My God… they’re here.”

Hayden gripped the satphone hard. “Stay absolutely still. Do nothing.”

There was a shout and a large amount of rustling. A gunshot was heard. Lauren yelled out in shock. More rustling. One more gunshot.

Smyth stood just a meter from the phone, eyes closed tightly, fists to his temples. He said just one word: “Lauren?”

Voices came over the phone, deep and guttural: “Is she dead?”

“Looks like it.”

Smyth sank to his knees. Hayden held on to the phone and the open line in desperate hope, but didn’t hear Lauren’s voice at all. Just some shuffling.

“Better drag the bitch over here, Urban.”

Yeah, dispose of it where it belongs, hey Carmine? In the gutter.”

The entire team logged both names. Drake knew it was one of those moments when two identities would be forever remembered.

More rustling, and then a dragging sound. Both men were grunting. Drake saw Kinimaka and Kenzie turn away, not needing or wanting to hear what happened next. Alicia’s face was set in the hardest mask he’d ever seen.

“Get this fucker warmed up,” Smyth growled. “I know where I’m going next.”

Both men screamed then as two shots rang out. Drake thought he heard two bodies fall and then two more shots. It was a blessing to hear Lauren’s ragged voice.

“I’m okay,” she breathed. “They shot me. In the arm. But I’m okay. Faked it, ha ha. That’s the one thing I am good at.”

Smyth was suddenly on his knees, unable to hide the emotion. Hayden’s knuckles were pure white on the phone. “What’s happening over there?”

“Wait… I have to get clear.”

Three minutes later and after a good deal of panting and crunching she was back on the line.

“Goddamn, this hurts. I’m bleeding, but managed to wrap it.”

Drake spoke first. “Did you grab one of their guns?”

“Shit, no. I’m friggin’ useless.”

“No, you’re not,” Smyth said.

“Look, we’re hanging on by our fingertips here. We’re not soldiers. They’re gonna kill us.”

Hayden forced her voice to project calmness. “Are you safe for now? If so, tell us what happened.”

“Yeah, I’m bang in the middle of a huge parking lot, in between cars.” The New Yorker took a deep breath. “First, they took Kimberly.”

Drake tried hard to keep his mouth from falling open. “You mean Tempest? Shit.”

“Yeah, they snatched the Secretary and have her somewhere. I don’t know what’s happened. It was only… hours ago. We were planning to grab the President after his speech. I mean, not literally grab him, but Kimberly had organized anonymous press passes for us and it was clear to approach. She used her last favors with those passes, and somebody must have talked.”

“They have eyes and ears everywhere,” Kinimaka said.

“Anyway, they dragged poor Kimberly right out of the car in the parking lot. Just threw her into a black van in broad daylight. It was… horrible.”

Lauren’s voice was rising. Hayden told her to calm down. They couldn’t risk her being heard now. She may have found a good hiding place, but good hiding places were often the hardest to escape from.

“I ran. Luckily, I was close to the press conference so managed to find a place where they wouldn’t dare touch me. Hang on…”

Drake assumed she was checking the area. The team waited with bated breath.

“We’re clear, but I need to get this arm checked. It’s on fire.” Lauren fought down the panic again, resetting her core. “Look, despite all that, I did manage to talk to President Coburn.”

Drake was amazed. “Whoa, you did?”

“Yeah, I got up close and he recognized me. He was familiar with the code words too, which got me a private chat.”

Drake knew there was no code word. It was Lauren’s way of saving time. In truth, he had no doubt that she would have reminded him of the Blood King’s attack on DC and what had happened then. Coburn would have seen it as a warning sign, a cry for help from SPEAR.

“I laid it all out, plain and cold. A few advisors were there too; I couldn’t keep them out of it. I spoke of Tempest, the Spec Ops teams they left out in the cold, the weapons of the gods… everything.”

“Was he responsive?” Mai asked the question on all their minds.

“Yeah. Asked questions. Asked for dates. Lots of stuff.”

“Lauren,” Hayden said. “How the hell did you end up on the run?”

“When I finished talking to Coburn I stepped away a little and Rick Troy was standing right behind me. You know him — the presidential aide that’s part of Tempest. The asshole that’s been blocking us this whole time. Well, I grinned. I said: ‘Got you, bastard,’ and then I told Coburn to act fast as his life was in danger.”

“Great,” Hayden said. “Just wait. We have a lot to think about.”

“Or nothing,” Smyth said. “We’re going to DC.”

All this time, on another line, Cambridge of the British SAS had been listening. Now Hayden gave the floor to him.

“Where are we with the weapons?”

“Tempest are in control, I’m afraid. They have almost twenty god-weapons. They have Secretary Crowe. Lauren is clearly being hunted. And, by now, I’d imagine they have a plan to take the President out if Troy overheard all that. This just got huge.”

“Understood,” Hayden said, and turned back to the satphone. “You two managed to locate Tempest’s hideout, right?”

“We identified where they meet, yeah, from Gleeson’s laptop.”

Hayden acknowledged every pair of eyes in the big cabin. “We have to destroy Tempest. Immediately.”

Smyth pumped the air with a fist. “Exactly!”

“I’m sorry,” Cambridge intervened. “It’s not quite that easy. Tempest are not alone, as you know. The terrorist camp is now fully operational. It won’t be long before they’re shipping them out in droves just to cover up what they’re planning next.”

A deep, difficult silence fell across the cabin. There was no easy answer.

“How many terrorists?” Luther asked.

“Hundreds,” Cambridge replied. “At least.”

Strike Tempest, or strike their network, Drake thought. Save Lauren and Crowe and possibly the President or cripple a terrorist army?

Hayden came up with the plan. “I’m afraid there’s no choice. We will have to split up, again, and both teams will be heading into severe danger.”

She rose with all the weight of the world on her shoulders. “Say your goodbyes while you can. We split in five. I’ll take Smyth, Mano and Molokai with me. The rest of you will deal with the terrorists.”

There were no protests, no diverting suggestions. Hayden was right and had decided their course of action. The team rose and crowded around, making sure Smyth knew he had their support and passing everything they had on to Lauren. Hayden told the New Yorker about a doctor she knew, that might be able to admit her to hospital under an assumed name.

“Get over there right away,” she said. “I’ll tell him you’re coming and work out a code word.”

“I will,” Lauren croaked. “And guys… thank you.”

“We’ll see you soon,” Hayden ended the call, addressing Cambridge.

“So, any thoughts on how five soldiers are gonna take on hundreds of terrorists?”

“That had crossed my mind too,” Drake added for good measure.

“Five?” Cambridge laughed. “No, no. How about one hundred Special Forces soldiers. Everything from Navy SEAL teams to Marine Recon, Green Berets to Delta Force. And that’s not including the undercover CIA teams and half a dozen more that don’t even have names. They’re all ready to help you.”

“Fuck me,” Drake murmured. “Talk about a dream team.”

“Never again will there be such a team assembled to defeat a terrorist army,” Cambridge said. “I’m bloody jealous of you.”

“Stuff of fantasy.” Dahl rubbed his hands. “Can’t wait.”

Hayden gestured at the chopper. “But who goes first? We only have one transport.”

“You,” Cambridge said immediately. “Because, Hayden, our insiders are already hearing chatter. A Tempest attack on President Coburn is imminent.”