D.E.A.D. Till I Die: An Action Thriller (GlobaTech Book 1) (15 page)

As his hand disappeared behind him, the unmistakable sound of automatic gunfire rang out. Instinctively, he scrambled over to Vincent, dragging him to the floor.

“Fuck!” he yelled, taking out his
Negotiator
and positioning his thumb to enable it. He looked over to the entrance to see a man disappearing behind a nearby wall for cover. Collins fired three rounds in his general direction.

“Hostile!” he shouted over comms, as more bullets sounded out around him. “Danny Boy, stay on the fucking floor, alright? Face down. I’ll handle this.”

He rolled away and pushed himself up, resting on one knee; his weapon ready in front of him, scanning the area. There was no sign of the hostile. He figured there was only one, but he wasn’t sure. He looked over at the family, cowering behind their table. He placed a finger to his lips. “Just stay down,” he said, looking at the man, who he assumed was the dad. He had his arm around the woman who, in turn, was shielding the young child in hers. “I’ll get ya outta here, I promise.”

He glanced over at the doorway, catching a glimpse of the man shooting at them. He was a good height, with dark hair and stubble.

“Jerry, where the fuck are ya, matey?” he asked, quickly looking back to check on Vincent.

“Coming to you,” he replied. “Sit tight.”

“Julie, I don’t like people shooting at me! Where are ya, girl?”

“Quit being a pussy,” she said, sounding out of breath. “I’m looping around the hotel to enter the restaurant from the other side. Be right with you.”

More gunfire sounded, and Collins hit the floor again as bullets flew past his ear. “Fuck—that was close!” He slid a mag of high explosive rounds into the secondary magazine well of his gun. “Let’s see what ya can do...” he muttered.

Waiting until the hostile paused to reload, he leapt to his feet, took aim and fired a single shot. The impact was deafening, and the subsequent explosion destroyed the doorway and surrounding walls, punching a hole straight through to the street.

“Holy shit!” he yelled, laughing.

He saw movement to his right, and spun round to see Julie enter the room, gun raised.

She glanced past Collins at the damage, before looking at him questioningly.

He shrugged, turning to Vincent. “Danny Boy, she’s with me,” he said, pointing to Julie. “Go with her.”

“Wh-what are you doing?” he asked.

“I need to get the rest of these people outta here,” he said. “She’ll keep ya safe, and we’ve got another guy outside who’ll help protect ya, okay? Just do what she says.”

He nodded uncertainly and hurried over to her. Without a word, she grabbed his arm and dragged him back the way she’d come, through the opposite doors and out into the hotel.

He turned back just as the hostile re-appeared in the doorway to the restaurant, an assault rifle raised. The man smiled for a moment as time seemed to freeze. Collins looked on as the hostile leveled his weapon. Time resumed its normal pace a moment later, and he ran to his right, diving over the top of the bar for cover as a cacophony of stuttering death was unleashed toward him.

He heard screams as he landed, and bullets splintered the counter above him, shattering the glasses stacked up behind.

After a few moments, it went silent. He chanced a look over the bar and saw the guy had gone. He stood, gun raised, and quickly scanned the room. The two young women were sprawled across their table; a river of blood at their feet.

“Fuck...” he muttered, looking over at the family, who were, thankfully, still hiding behind their table. “Jerry, I’ve got two civvies dead in here... hostile’s gone, possibly comin’ your way.”

09:24 CEST

Outside, Jericho had taken up position next to the main entrance, covered by the wall. He peered around the doors into the lobby. “Copy that,” he said. “I’m here, Ray. The street’s clear.” He looked over his shoulder, back down the alley, toward their car. He saw movement at the other end; people running, scattering in all directions. “But I think we’re about to have incoming. Julie, what’s your position?”

“Heading out the back entrance and round the building now, coming to you,” said Julie. “No sign of our hostile.”

Jericho took cover against the wall of an adjacent building, alternating between glancing over his shoulder, waiting for Julie to appear with Vincent, and looking down the alley, waiting for who he assumed would be Baker to break his cover.

Julie and Vincent appeared next to him a few moments later. “On me,” he said to them, nodding a curt greeting to Vincent before turning and heading back down the alley. “Watch for the sniper,” he called over his shoulder. “On your one-o-clock as you exit.”

“Roger that,” shouted Julie.

They made their way down the alley quickly and emerged onto the street, prompting more screams and panic from everyone nearby who saw their guns. Jericho scanned the crowds, struggling to focus amid the chaos. He couldn’t see Baker, but figured he had to be nearby. LaSharde was likely still in place as well, which complicated matters further. Knowing the remaining member of the unit, Rick Santiago, usually occupied the same role Josh was covering for them, he could only assume the one Collins was chasing was Chris Black. He wrinkled his face in a moment of anger, and then let it pass. It wasn’t the time.

They moved over to the car. Julie was behind Vincent with a hand on his shoulder.

“In the back,” she said to him. “Stay down.”

As he gripped the door handle, Jericho happened to glance down at the road, which was wet following a recent downpour. There were a few puddles, but it was mostly damp to the point where it was reflective in the sunlight. He could see a blinking light in the surface of the road, just underneath their car. Straight away, he knew what it meant.

“Get back!” he yelled to Julie, running into the center of the Square, away from the car. He looked around frantically at the crowds. “Everybody, move!” He raised his gun and fired twice into the air, causing more screams and chaos as people stampeded away from them in every direction.

Julie and Vincent drew level with him just as the car exploded. The blast was violent and loud, and the shockwave sent the three of them flying backward, landing heavy and awkward on the other side of the Square.

Jericho sat up, quickly looking around and blinking rapidly. “Fuck!”

Next to him, Vincent was lying face down, with Julie sprawled on top of him; her gun aimed and ready.

Jericho placed a finger to his ear to help reduce the surrounding noise. “Ray... do you... copy?” he asked.

09:26 CEST

On the other side of the flaming wreckage, in an adjacent alley, Collins was running after the hostile from inside the hotel, who he could see just ahead of him. He didn’t have a clear shot, and had paused momentarily when he heard the blast.

“I’m here, Jerry!” he yelled. “What the fuck was that?”

“Our ride!” he shouted back.

“Everyone alright?”

“We’re alive. Where are you?”

“Just comin’ out of the next alley over, chasing the fucker who shot at me.”

Collins picked up the pace, exiting the alley at full speed and skidding to the ground on instinct as automatic gunfire erupted to his left. He fired blind as he rolled into the street, shielding his face from the heat of the burning car nearby.

He yelled a guttural roar, clambering to his feet and heading over to the others, all the while trying not to hit any innocent civilians on the way.

Suddenly, more gunfire sounded out in front of him—slow, deliberate shots, which Collins identified immediately as sniper rounds. He dove to the ground, sliding to a stop a few feet away from the rest of his team; his right arm bleeding from the friction.

“You alright?” shouted Jericho.

“I’m a little pissed off to be honest with ya!” replied Collins, shuffling over to them while keeping as low as he could. “This whole thing went to shit real fucking fast, didn’t it?”

They were taking cover behind a bench on the island in the center of the boulevard that ran the length of Wenceslas Square. Ahead of them was the flaming wreck of their vehicle, and just to the left of that was Chris Black. Over to their right, on their three o’clock, they knew Damian Baker was among the crowd somewhere, so they couldn’t head in that direction without endangering more innocent lives. And behind them, on the rooftop looking down, was Charlotte LaSharde and her sniper rifle, keeping them in check.

Julie touched her ear. “Josh, we’re pinned down here. Any suggestions?”

“I’m working on it,” he replied, sounding stressed. “Gimme a minute...”

Jericho looked down at Vincent, who was trembling—presumably from shock and fear. He was clutching his briefcase like his life depended on it.

“Daniel, what information do you have?” he asked.

Vincent looked at him for a moment, thinking. “G-get me out of here, and I’ll s-show you,” he replied.

Jericho exchanged a look with Collins, who positioned himself upright, sitting on the other side of Vincent.

“Listen, matey,” he said, his Irish accent sounding more flustered than usual. “We’re surrounded by the best people the CIA have, and they want what’s in that briefcase. It may be that our only option is to destroy it, taking their mission away from them.”

Vincent’s eyes widened as he looked up at Jericho, who nodded to him.

“He’s right,” he confirmed. “Their primary objective is to get what’s in this case.” He patted it for effect. “If we destroy it, there’s a chance they’ll back down.”

“Or a chance they’ll just kill us all,” offered Julie, casually. “There’s no way their orders don’t include killing him, or anyone trying to protect him.”

“I think I’ve bought you a way out,” interjected Josh. “Just hang in there, thirty seconds.”

The three of them aimed their guns in different directions, protecting their perimeter. Ahead of them, through the flames and the screaming crowds, Jericho caught sight of Chris Black. Their eyes met, and they both leveled their weapons at each other.

“I see you, mother—” began Jericho, but he was interrupted by the wail of sirens, as police cars and fire engines arrived in waves at the scene.

“Put your weapons away,” said Josh. “Ditch your earpieces and flash your I.D. badges. They won’t like it, but you were doing your jobs: protecting your client. You don’t know who attacked you, and you want to be taken to the U.S. Embassy. Got it?”

“Copy that,” said Julie, taking her comms out and tossing it away to her left. Jericho did the same, but never took his eyes off Black, glaring at him in the smoke. Black smiled and lowered his weapon, disappearing back into the alley before the local authorities took over the scene.

A few moments passed, and then a group of six armed officers approached them, fanning out and raising their weapons.

“
Nikdo ani hnout!
” said one of them, glaring at the group.

The three of them had a basic grasp of the language, and knew that translated to ‘Nobody move’. They raised their hands slowly in compliance. Vincent sat up and raised his right hand; his left clutched tightly at the briefcase.

“So, how are ya enjoyin’ your first day on the job?” Collins asked Jericho, turning to look at him, smiling.

He smirked back. “It’s kinda boring...”

Collins laughed, while Julie shook her head and sighed. “Men...” she muttered.

LANGLEY, VIRGINIA, USA

April 22
nd
, 2017

08:48 EDT

The door opened to General Matthews’ office, and his secretary walked in, standing uncomfortably in front of his desk, keeping a respectful silence. He looked up from the report he was reading, eyeing her up and down before speaking.

“Yes?” he asked.

“Sir, there’s a call for you. It’s—” she said.

“Tell them I’m busy.”

“Sir, it’s the president.”

Matthews raised his eyebrows, unable to hide the surprise. He placed the report on his desk and straightened the jacket of his military suit, taking a deep breath to compose himself.

“Put him through,” he said.

The secretary nodded and made a hasty exit from the room. A moment later, his desk phone rang.

“Mr. President, good morning,” said the CIA director.

“Is it, Tom?” asked President Cunningham, his voice full of frustration. “You clearly haven’t seen the news.”

Matthews frowned. “No, sir, what news?”

“Turn on the TV. It doesn’t matter which channel...”

Matthews’ heart rate increased as he fumbled for the remote to the TV in his office, which was mounted on the wall to the right of his desk. He clicked it on to see a news report showing live video footage from Prague, where according to the caption, a shootout had taken place earlier in the day, both inside a hotel and outside in Wenceslas Square.

“What is this?” he asked, absently, turning up the volume.

“Just watch...” said the president, patiently.

A news reporter on the TV was in the middle of speaking. “...local authorities arrived on the scene, prompting at least two gunmen to flee. Three people were taken in for questioning, but were later released to the U.S. Embassy. They were employees of GlobaTech Industries, the military contractor currently providing almost all of the foreign aid to nations affected by 4/17. A spokesman for the company released an official statement just over an hour ago, explaining they were protecting a client from a suspected kidnapping attempt, and they did everything they could to minimize the number of casualties. Local security footage that has been made available to the press certainly seems to back that up.

“Over thirty people were injured by the initial blast from the car bomb, with at least a hundred more sustaining minor injuries in the rush to leave the area. There are currently seven confirmed fatalities, but reports suggest that number could rise...”

Matthews turned off the TV. He could feel the color draining from his face. “Mr. President...” he began. “Sir, I don’t know—”

“What to say? I wouldn’t say anything, if I were you. Jericho Stone is one of those three GlobaTech employees, in case you were wondering. Your D.E.A.D. unit were the people fleeing the scene. The information Daniel Vincent has is now in the hands of the only people capable of preventing the next stage of the plan from going ahead... To say I’m upset would be an understatement.”

“Sir, leave this to me. I’ll—”

“
You
won’t do anything, Tom. I’ve already told you to take a back seat. But you better make damn sure you get your house in order. Am I clear?”

“Yes, sir, Mr. President.”

“I’m going to make life very difficult for GlobaTech Industries, Tom. Nothing can stand in the way of what’s coming next. Not now.”

The phone clicked off, leaving Director Matthews standing behind his desk, sweating and feeling genuinely nervous for the first time in his life.

He took a few moments to compose himself, and then stormed out of his office; his face a picture of anger. He made his way down the hall and left, bursting through the door to Julius Jones’ office without knocking.

Jones was sitting behind his desk, watching his own TV. He looked up as Matthews entered. “Was wondering when I’d see you, Tom.”

Matthews’ fury boiled over. “I’m the goddamn director of the CIA, and you will stand when I walk in the room!” he bellowed.

Jones raised an eyebrow, before slowly getting to his feet.

Matthews continued with his tirade, pointing to the TV. “
That
is a fucking nightmare—for the president, for me, and for this agency!
Your
D.E.A.D. unit caused that shit-storm, Julius, and it’s unacceptable!”

Jones took a deep breath, raising his hands and gesturing for the director to calm down.

“Tom... Sir—you need to take a moment to relax.” He knew the president would have been on the phone to him, and he could guess how that conversation would’ve gone.

“Don’t tell me to fucking relax, you arrogant bastard! All this is your fault!”

Jones frowned, taking exception. “Hey, wait a goddamn minute,
Tom
. I get that Black and his team screwed up, but the fact they were there was
your
call. Which you made with the president’s backing. I’m not saying this isn’t a shit-storm—I agree with you on that—but barging in here and pointing the finger at me, simply because the president likely just tore you a new one and you need to feel better about yourself, isn’t going to make things better!”

Matthews was livid, and he stood taking in deep, adrenaline-fueled breaths, staring Jones right in the eye. After a few moments, he calmed down enough to see sense.

“Fuck,” he hissed, turning to pace around the office and clear his head.

“We just need to think of a way to spin this so that it tarnishes GlobaTech’s reputation,” offered Jones.

Matthews waved his hand dismissively. “That ship’s sailed, Jones. It’s already on the news that Jericho Stone and his new friends were innocent bystanders, simply doing their job... blah, blah, fucking blah.”

Jones sighed. He had an idea what the next step was, and he wasn’t happy about it. “So what do you want to do?”

Matthews stopped and looked at him. “The D.E.A.D. unit is gone, effective right fucking now. Do you understand me? Any records are destroyed. Your funding is cut and re-distributed. Your entire program is dead and buried. Chris Black, and whoever else is left, are no longer, in any way, linked to this agency. We cannot afford to let our reputation take a hit like this, not now. Not with Adrian Hell still on the loose with his stolen intel. Are you listening to me, Julius?”

Jones was staring blankly at the surface of his desk, hearing every word, but unable to express how he felt about them. The D.E.A.D. program had been his brainchild, his baby, for over twenty years. It began with Adrian Hell. Ironically, it’s with him, albeit indirectly, that it ends.

He nodded, sitting down heavily in his chair.

Matthews regarded him quietly for a moment. “Get it done, Julius.”

He turned and left, slamming the door closed behind him.

Jones sat for a while, silently. He was angry at the decision, but he was angrier that his trust in Chris Black to manage the unit in place of Jericho had apparently been misplaced.

He snapped out of his trance and picked up the phone. He had preparations to make.