An Unlikely Hero (1) (40 page)

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” he said looking painfully sad at those coming out from under the table. “Good help is hard to find in this country. In Libya there are many who will work all day for practically nothing, without complaint, I might add.” He sighed as the second dead body quickly disappeared out the door. The sound of dragging and display of blood annoyed him. “Honey, get someone to clean this up.” He watched her move stealthy out the door only to return moments later with a bucket and mop.

She walked over to Sam, throwing the mop at her. “Give me a reason to blow your face off. Clean it up,” she growled through a clenched teeth smile.

Zoric put his bony hand on Sam’s forearm. “Easy.” He felt the tension in Sam’s arm relax slightly.

Essid narrowed his eyes at Sam as she began to remove the signs of death. “Be sure to keep your gun on her,” he advised to Mansur with an amused look. He placed both his hands on the shoulders of the computer man just as the screen revealed a view of the lobby. “Empty!” he snapped. “Where are my men?” he yelled in frustration.

Zoric grinned. “Dead or incapacitated would be my guess.”

Essid whirled around violently. “And your captain? Where is he?”

“Last time I saw him he was headed into the fire you started. Probably didn’t make it.” Zoric continued to grin devilishly. “But then again…” He let his words fall sarcastically.

Essid addressed one of the guards who Zoric recognized immediately. “Jamaal, take the two guards outside and look for them! You,” he said pointing at one of his hired guns from the trucking company who appeared to know his way around a group of armed thugs. He had barely flinched when Essid shot the two drivers. “Check to see if your people have finished unloading the trucks.”

Jamaal, recognizing Zoric from several days before understood he’d been played, made to look like a fool in front the woman with the face of an angel. He slinked closer to make direct eye contact with the Serbian. When Zoric eyed him recklessly with a smirk and a devilish laugh, Jamaal started to ram his weapon into the hostage only to have Mansur cut him off with his large body.

“Do as you’re told. If you screw this up too, I’ll let this worthless piece of Serbian trash eat you alive.” Mansur growled impatiently.

A nod of acceptance forced a speedy exit.

Essid suddenly felt the need to pace with his hands clasped behind his back, fidgeting his fingers. He stopped next to several Russians, older and heavier than himself. He faked a punch at the middle aged scientist. The scientist dodged so quickly, he fell out of his chair.

A grey haired Russian slammed his fist down on the table. “Why are you doing this? This material will save the lives of thousands, even many Libyans. It can be of no use to you. Time is of the essence. The life of this material is critical to production. I beg you. Let these people do their jobs.”

Essid frowned and kneeled down next to the Russian. “There’s no one to do the job,” he smiled. “Most of the people were sent home when the fire started. The party was canceled and the caterer sent back to Sacramento before anyone in this room knew there was a problem. Besides,” he said standing up and stretching. “This whole place is going to blow sky high soon. So you see I am merciful. Creating a few isotopes will be the least of your problems. I’ve left plenty of signs that the Russians are behind the attack. Did I say ‘Russians’? I meant Chechens.” He chuckled as a confused look came over the older man’s face. “Mother Russia has imported her problems to the United States, or at least that is how it will be perceived. The president will be forced to invade your land and take care of these terrorists.” He slapped his hands together so loudly that everyone jumped at the table. “Like Afghanistan, I think. You couldn’t take care of them either as I remember. How do you feel about a little shock and awe in your country?”

Zoric stepped forward. “You would have us go to war because of your dead woman!”

Essid snapped his head around, focusing on the dark looks of his enemy. He smiled with condescension. “You are a Serbian. I remember you with Captain Hunter. I heard about your family.” A slight glint of surprise flickered in Zoric’s bloodshot eyes then disappeared. “Oh yes, I have sources too.” He looked over at the sour look on Honey’s face. He extended his arm toward her so that she could slip it around her shoulders. “I know all that you found were pieces of those sweet little girls.”

“Shut up,” Zoric spat. “I don’t need you to tell me about my family.”

The bald computer man cleared his throat to draw Essid’s attention. He was there instantly. “Yes?”

“We’re back on line, but only limited. I can only open up the cameras in the lobby, the loading dock, and this hall. The others have been so scrambled I think they may have been destroyed for good.”

“What’s that?” Essid said pointing at the screen. But he already knew.

Chapter 27

Learning to become invisible became second nature if you were a member of a Special Forces team living in the mountains of Afghanistan. Something like pebbles slipping could jerk a combat soldier to attention in a heartbeat. A shift in wind direction could help or kill you. It paid to absorb details of your surroundings. He learned to observe without moving anything but his hooded eyes. Chase often found himself pausing even before pulling out into traffic on the rather docile streets of Sacramento. He could sleep standing up and eat just about anything. Blending in became second nature for a number of years before he returned to the states.

Assimilation into civil society where everyone knows your business and expects to participate in your life posed problems for the captain when returning from the war. Sometimes he had gone for days without saying a word due to the isolation of his outpost. Even his men rarely uttered a word, fearing that doing so might give the enemy a heads up advantage. Then there were times when he lived amongst a village, becoming one of them by adopting their customs and habits. A few tribal leaders thought of him as a brother giving him respect and further training to survive a common enemy, the Taliban. Sometimes a nod or the sharing of a cup of tea spoke more than a litany of promises and threats. After returning home, Chase often craved that solitude he experienced with his tribal family. He let Enigma fill in the holes of loneliness left by war and tragedy. Now someone else had fallen into his life that made him feel anxious. A new war began to stir deep inside him. What weapons did a soldier use against emotions he’d never felt before?

He had watched anxiously as Tessa approached the guards at the gate. Second thoughts nearly caused him to run after her, knowing Essid’s men would be less than respectful. Focusing on the big picture kept his feet rooted out of sight. She put on quite a show, maybe too much of one. Even from where he hid, Chase could see that the guards assisted her inappropriately with their dirty hands. A sense of urgency drove him forward when she distracted them. He’d have to go in through the loading dock and make his way back to Tessa before any harm came to her. If America was producing women like Tessa Scott across the cities and countryside the world just might become a safer place to live. Although scared out of her wits most of the week, she never ceased to amaze him with her tenacity and ability to switch gears when the situation demanded change.

A brilliant sunset began to form through the layers of smoke and ash drifting across the sky. Nothing like pollution to bring out a little beauty in nature he thought fleetingly as he pushed himself up against the corner of the building where the loading dock housed three eighteen wheeler trucks. Only one guard with a rifle stood watching the other men completing the transfer of Molybdenum 99 barrels to the cavernous storage facility. Other weapons leaned against the concrete wall. Some appeared to be AK-47s and didn’t look to be in the best of shape; more than a little dirty and banged up. He made a mental note to avoid those. After taking another quick glance Chase leaned on the exterior wall some three or four feet from the men offloading the small barrels. Chatter, an occasional laugh muffled by some solemn circumstance they probably didn’t grasp, lifted like the translucent smoke filtering the fading light of a red sky.

The last yellow container passed through the double doors as Chase eased his body from the corner of the building and carefully lifted one of the automatic rifles propped precariously against the wall.

Stepping back, he quickly checked to see if the weapon was loaded. It was. He heard their heavy, clumsy steps of indifference echo off the corrugated metal that lined the ceiling of the loading dock. His thoughts raced to Tessa. Too much time had passed.

As in times of battle, things either sped up or went into slow motion mode. He preferred fast. The smell of gunpowder filled his nostrils even before the first round left the chamber. The rat-a-tat-tat of a killing machine silenced any second guesses, knowing Tessa faced terrible danger alone. With an aggressive lunge, Chase appeared before the unsuspecting soldiers of terrorism, pulling the trigger to spray rapid death into their chests. The five unarmed men fell with surprised chokes of pain. Blood pooled so quickly that Chase never noticed the splatter of body tissue dripping from the concrete wall. He stormed quickly, seeing that the sixth man with a gun stood frozen behind a John Deere bobcat. Feeling the rifle jam, Chase swung the rifle around to use as a club. The surprise confrontation gave Chase the split second he needed to rush him. Just as the sixth man stepped out and lowered his weapon, Chase yelled like a banshee, swinging the butt of his rifle against the man’s weapon as it began to discharge. Startled the man dropped his gun and staggered backwards only to have Chase jump him with his full weight, slamming him to the ground. Chase felt the air gush from the man’s lungs just before he rammed a fist into his Adam’s apple. The death gurgle began as Chase bounded to his feet then secured two more working AKs before entering the storage area.

Quickly moving through the holding area, he unconsciously swept the space for other men with lethal force before slipping through double doors that led into several rooms. Finally he found a way into a long corridor. Hearing whispers and feet trying to make quiet forced Chase into a small lobby off the main corridor where a fountain bubbled peacefully. Surrounded by tropical plants and deep blue cushioned stools he guessed it was a place to catch up on emails or read a book. A place like Global Navigation probably tucked several more of these respite areas along the corridor to offer a Zen-like feeling to their employees. But for Chase he plastered his back against the granite wall, pulling his weapon tight to his chest. Chase readied to take out the next person who dared interfere with his rescue of Tessa.

When he knew they were but a breath away he swung out with his rifle leveled, only to see Vernon and Tessa collide into each other trying to escape what they thought might be one of Essid’s men. Lowering his weapon, he watched Tessa stop cringing and spring toward him. It seemed like the most natural thing in the world to extend his right arm and pull her body into his. He felt her arms wrap around him and squeeze. She looked up at him with a conquering smile.

“You’re safe! I worried.” Tessa realized she’d thrown herself at her hero and shyly took a step back. “The isotopes materials?” she asked hurriedly.

“Safe for now.” His large frame twisted to survey his surroundings. It was too quiet, too empty. “The others?”

Vernon nodded upstairs. “Carter took your buddy Joe the truck driver…”

“Truck driver?” he interrupted bewildered.

Vernon explained briefly. “The others went to the fifth floor on the elevator.”

“Just short of the top,” Chase said, pulling Tessa into the secluded area where he’d hid moments before. Vernon followed. They both knew that out in the open meant danger. He looked down at Tessa, who followed his every move, as if he might suddenly vanish.

“Those men at the gate—did they hurt you?” Chase felt a catch in his throat asking such a question. Of course they hurt her; they were animals with no respect for human life.

Vernon felt confident enough standing next to Tessa after her glowing words to put his arm around her shoulder. They stood like soldiers posing for pictures in Kandahar. “My girl took them out with a bottle of glass cleaner.”

Her eyes darted to Captain Hunter in hopes of praise, “that ‘a girl”, or even a proud smile. What she got was a frown and one arched eyebrow of disapproval. “That was stupid! What if you’d missed?” he said matter-of-factly.

“I didn’t.”

“What if Vernon hadn’t been there?”

“But he was.”

“Dumb luck!” he snapped.

“I prefer to think I had an angel watching over me. Besides it’s not like you rushed in to save me,” Tessa argued. Why was the captain ruining her moment? She’d assisted in taking out two men who meant harm to her country. Wasn’t that a good thing?

“The men on the loading dock?” Vernon asked carefully, as he slipped his arm back to his side after he noticed Chase’s eyes fell on it like a hammer.

“Down,” was all he needed to say.

Vernon nodded in acknowledgment. The captain could sometimes petrify the team with his stealth ability to take out an enemy. Vernon had seen him do it on several occasions and would not soon forget it. The most frightening part came when Chase carried on as if nothing abnormal had occurred. Maybe when you live in Afghanistan for several years something gets twisted inside you. He’d once saw him down two paramilitary types in Montana then drive back to town for a cheeseburger and fries. After that, Director Benjamin Clark forced him into therapy. Chase agreed to the weekly sessions so he could remain in command of his team. The therapist often complained Chase provided very little help in the process and even played a few mind games of his own on the doctor. The rest of the team found it hilarious. The director did not.

“Give me that rifle,” Chase ordered as he reached for Tessa’s weapon. Reluctantly, she pulled it from her shoulder with a flinch when the strap dragged across her bruised shoulder. As he took the gun, Chase also pulled her blouse over to see her shoulder. She retreated against Vernon as she tried to shove his hand away in embarrassment.