D.E.A.D. Till I Die: An Action Thriller (GlobaTech Book 1) (14 page)

Jericho stepped forward, taking the scope from him and holding it up to his right eye. “Jesus... that’s incredible!”

He felt a hand on his shoulder. “Told you,” whispered Julie.

He handed the scope back and looked on the work bench at the other items on there. He was drawn to a handgun—dark gray in color and sleek in design. It resembled a Desert Eagle, fifty-cal, but bulkier.

“What’s that?” he asked, gesturing to it with a nod of his head.

Dev chuckled. “That, my friend, is what we call
The Negotiator
.” He picked it up and racked the slide back. Then, with his finger hooked through the trigger guard, he flipped the gun around and presented the butt to Jericho. He took it without hesitation, feeling a professional excitement as he held the weapon in his hand, regarding it with an expert eye. It was a beautiful piece of hardware.

Having been born into the military, with a father that served, it was a genetic inevitability that Jericho would develop an affiliation with soldiering and combat. He believed that being a soldier was like any other trade—to be the best at it, you had to understand the tools you’d be using.

At a young age, he taught himself how to take apart, clean, and reassemble pretty much every type of gun. Then, he trained religiously, during both active duty and in his spare time, on how to use one effectively. The result being he was probably one of the most accurate shooters ever to serve.

The
Negotiator
he was holding was like nothing he’d ever seen before. He frowned as he examined it. The barrel was larger than normal pistols, having a separate, smaller barrel underneath the chamber, with space in front of the trigger guard for a miniaturized magazine. The butt, too, was larger in every way, but shaped ergonomically, so it fit comfortably into the palm of your hand.

“How does it work?” asked Jericho, eventually conceding defeat.

Dev took it back from him, pointing to it like a salesman. “Thumb print scanner on the grip,” he said. “Tailored to a single user. If it ain’t your gun, the trigger won’t depress. Same story if your thumb ain’t on the scanner, too. That’s your safety—just adjust your grip when you’re ready to shoot.”

Jericho raised his eyebrows, silently impressed.

Dev continued. “The gun fires standard nine mil’ parabellums from the main mag, but can also fire specialist rounds from an additional, smaller magazine attached to the secondary barrel. So far, we’ve got two types: a modified High Explosive Incendiary Armor Piercing round, and a developmental bullet that emits a low-level EMP on impact—useful for taking down security systems.”

“Very nice,” he said. “Can I have one?”

Dev laughed, turned, and opened a large box that was sitting on another table top behind him. Inside, resting in compartments cut into the lining, were three
Negotiators
. He picked up the box and presented it to the trio.

“Mr. Winters called ahead—said you all might be interested.”

Julie and Collins exchanged an excited look. Jericho placed the one he was holding on the table and smiled calmly as they were each handed their own, personalized gun. He noticed the small pad on the grip lit up blue when he gripped it.

“That’ll turn red for anyone besides you,” said Dev, not needing to be asked.

Julie stepped forward. She checked her weapon and found just a standard magazine was loaded. She chambered a round and looked at Jericho. “How good a shot are you?” she asked him. “I’m not working with someone who can’t shoot straight.”

“That’ll be a first,” smirked Collins.

Julie shot him a look. “I’m holding a loaded gun, asshole...”

Collins held his hands up, feigning shock. “Jerry, ya won’t let her shoot me, will ya?”

“Keep me outta this,” he replied, winking at Julie. “Take your shot,” he said to her. He nodded at the target at the end of the range. “Down there, not at him.”

She smiled back, took her aim, and fired, hitting just left and slightly higher than dead center.

“Not bad,” said Jericho.

He picked up a standard mag from the table next to him, taking a step forward as he slid it into his own weapon and worked the slide to chamber a round. He stood facing the target sheet, which was pinned to the wall roughly fifty feet in front of him.

Like lightning, he raised his right hand and fired once, shooting from the hip with no obvious preparation. Even with one eye, his bullet hit the target in the center, dead on, just to the right of Julie’s shot.

“Whoa!” said Collins. “Nice shootin’, Tex.”

Jericho turned and smiled at Julie. “Straight enough for you?” he said. Dev and Collins laughed. Julie simply continued to smile at him, an impressed look on her face.

“One more thing for each of you,” said Dev, pushing past Jericho and walking to another work bench just to the left of them. He held up a piece of material and ceremoniously handed it to Julie. He then picked up two more; one for each of the guys. “These are Tech Sleeves. You’ll notice a hard surface stitched into the lining on one side with the face of it showing, and a bracelet, of sorts, stitched onto the wrist. Slide them over your forearm, with the plate on the inside.”

They all inspected them dubiously, before pulling the sleeve over their left forearms. It reached almost to their elbows, and was made into a fingerless glove at the bottom end, with a hole cut out for the thumb. It covered the palm and knuckles. Jericho tapped the dark gray, plastic surface that was molded to the shape of his arm curiously.

Positioned around his wrist was a bracelet with numerous tiny holes in a semi-circle around the edge of the circumference on the inside of their arm. It had a watch face on it, set to the right time, and a single button on the outside edge.

“Press it,” said Dev, watching Jericho admire the technology.

He did, as the others looked on, intrigued. The small holes flashed into life, and the image of a touchscreen device was suddenly projected onto the hard surface. It looked, for all intents and purposes, like a fully-functioning tablet.

“Nice...” said Jericho, distracted.

The others followed suit, equally stunned when their own Tech Bands did the same thing.

“That,” explained Dev, “is a state-of-the-art, portable projection computer. Inside the wristband is a transmitter and a two terabyte server chip. It piggy-backs the nearest cell tower signal, giving you access to all of GlobaTech’s networks while you’re out in the field.”

“These are great,” said Julie. “Thanks, Dev.”

“Yeah, appreciate the upgrades,” agreed Jericho. “And it was good to meet you.”

Dev smiled. “I’m sure we’ll be seeing a lot of each other in the future.”

The three of them turned and headed out of the armory, back up the stairs and down the long corridor. Julie walked on ahead, as Jericho lingered, fiddling with the interface on his arm like a child with a new toy on Christmas morning.

Collins appeared next to him. “Hey, Jerry, d’ya think this thing can get porn?” he asked quietly.

Jericho closed his eyes with disbelief and laughed, but didn’t dignify the question with an answer.

They quickly caught up with Julie, just as she was stepping outside. They looked across the compound and saw Josh walking hurriedly toward them.

“All kitted out?” he asked as they approached.

“We certainly are,” said Jericho.

“This technology is incredible,” added Julie.

Josh shrugged. “Only the best for my team. You’ll have plenty of time to figure out how to use it in the air. Your flight leaves in...” he paused momentarily to check his watch, “...four minutes.” On cue, a transport vehicle arrived on the road alongside them. “Jump in. Everything you need is on the plane.”

“Jesus... we ain’t hangin’ around, are we?” observed Collins.

Josh shook his head. “Time is of the essence. Good luck, boys and girls.”

The three of them climbed aboard, and the driver set off. Ten minutes later, they were in the air, en route to Prague.

PRAGUE, CZECH REPUBLIC

April 22
nd
, 2017

08:56 CEST

Jericho Stone, Julie Fisher, and Ray Collins sat in their anonymous, black sedan, parked by the side of the road in Wenceslas Square, facing the museum. The sun was rising, casting a picturesque glow over the skyline from behind the spattering of gray cloud.

They had landed a couple of hours earlier. Their body clocks hadn’t fully adjusted to the massive time difference, so they made the journey from the airfield where they landed stretch to three hours, stopping for some food along the way.

They had all managed to get some rest on the flight over, and Jericho was feeling more like his old self. The seemingly endless uncertainty and paranoia had made way for more familiar feelings—purpose, self-belief, and a sense of duty.

He looked around, watching the people go about their lives. Already the streets were filling up. Prague was closer than most to the atrocity that was 4/17, with their northern neighbors, Poland, absorbing a sizeable percentage of the overall damage caused. Jericho was reminded of the atmosphere in New York, in the days that followed 9/11. People were carrying on as normal, but slower, and quieter, which he put down to a show of respect more than fear.

It’s like when you tried to sleep as a child after your mean older brother told you the monsters you thought were under your bed were, in fact, real... nighttime was never quite the same—never as easy.

Behind him, Collins was sitting in the middle of the rear seat, resting his head back and staring at the roof as he smoked a cigarette. He blew out a thin stream of smoke with a heavy sigh.

“Do you have to do that in here?” asked Julie, glancing over her shoulder at him from the passenger seat.

“I really, really do, sweetheart,” he replied, as he fought the onset of jetlag. He lifted his head, catching Jericho’s eye in the rearview mirror. “So where the fuck is this guy?”

All three of them were wearing their Tech Sleeves, and Jericho glanced down at his forearm, pressing a few buttons and bringing up the information on his display. He looked around as he read the information. “He’s in the hotel at the back of this row of stores,” he announced, pointing in front of them.

“So what’s the plan?” asked Julie.

“I’ll make the approach,” said Jericho. “Ray, you follow me inside, but keep your distance. Watch for anything out of the ordinary. Julie, wait outside by the car. Watch the street—you’re driving when we come out.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way or anything mate, but I reckon
I’m
better making the approach,” said Collins.

Jericho looked over his shoulder, raising his eyebrow and silently questioning his logic.

“It’s just... ya know... you’re really big and scary,” he continued.

Julie rolled her eyes, and Jericho frowned.

Collins sighed, quickly tiring of trying to be polite. “I just mean, if this guy’s on edge anyway, what’s he gonna think when a seven-foot pirate, built like a fuckin’ tank with a scar across his head like Frankenstein, walks toward him holding a gun? I’m a people person. Let me go in, talk to him, make him see we’re here to help, and then walk him out.”

Jericho stared out the window, resting his elbow on the doorframe and absently tapping his eyepatch with his index finger, thinking about what Collins had said. Daniel Vincent was GlobaTech, so all he’d need to see is some ID, and problem solved... But he wasn’t naïve enough not to see that Collins had a point.

“Okay, here’s what we do,” said Julie, sounding impatient. “There are three of us, so we put it to a vote.”

Both Jericho and Collins looked at her, frowning with disbelief. She shrugged. “What? Winters isn’t a field commander, and we don’t have a definite leader between us, so we resort to diplomacy. Rock, Paper, Scissors... I’ll decide if it’s a tie.”

They all exchanged glances and shrugged, before shuffling in their seats and holding their hands out in the middle, each with their right fist in their left palm.

“On three,” she said. “One... two...
three
.”

Jericho and Julie went for rock, while Collins went for paper.

“Heh, fuck yeah!” he said.

“Fine,” said Jericho. “Collins, make the approach. Julie, you back him up inside. I’ll cover the area out here. Everyone on comms?”

The three of them put their earpieces in.

“Check,” said Julie.

“Check,” said Collins.

“Check,” said Jericho.

There was a crackle of static, and then another voice sounded out.

“Everybody set?” asked Josh.

“We’re good,” confirmed Jericho. “Ray and Julie will make the approach, I’m on damage control.”

“Good. Listen, we’ve been monitoring Vincent since you left here. He’s made no attempt to contact anyone, but keep your eyes open—in the current climate, there’s no way you’re the only ones after him. We don’t want to cause a scene.”

From the back seat, Collins tapped Jericho on the shoulder. “Hey, Jerry, ya hear that? We gotta keep our
eyes
open! Ha! You’re fucked!”

Jericho shook his head, glancing at Julie, who was doing her best to suppress a smile.

“Hey, Ray, you hear
that
?” he replied.

Collins frowned and shook his head. “Hear what?”

“The sound of you getting your ass handed to you by three security guards.”

Julie laughed, and even Josh’s sly chuckle could be heard on comms.

Collins frowned. “Well, it’s good to know I’m never livin’
that
down...”

“Not as long as you keep making jokes about the eye patch.”

“Alright—focus, children,” interrupted Josh. “I’ll be tracking your progress from here. I’ve got a real-time satellite feed on you now. I’ll offer support where I can.”

“Copy that,” said Julie.

Everyone stepped out of the car, standing and looking around casually for a moment. Jericho made sure his weapon was concealed under his top. They had all dressed in civilian clothes, changing on the plane just before it landed. He was wearing loose-fitting jeans and a hooded sweater.

Collins set off down the narrow side street on their left, which led to the hotel. He’d opted for a more conventional plain T-shirt with dark jeans, instead of another of his trademark Hawaiian shirts.

A few moments later, Julie followed him. Jericho couldn’t help but cast an appraising eye over her as she walked away. Since ditching her nurse’s uniform and dropping the innocent act, Julie’s true beauty had very much shone through. Her figure was slender, but toned—not overly muscular, retaining her femininity. Her shoulder-length brown hair was tied back, and she was dressed in fitted black leggings, with light brown low-heeled calf boots. Her top was loose fitting, and concealed her gun easily. She had sunglasses on, and she looked amazing.

“Stay alert, okay?” said Jericho on comms. “Like Josh says, we might not be the only ones here. Watch your six.”

“Hey, Jules,” said Collins. “I’ll watch ya six for ya if ya want?”

She sighed. “Fuck you, Ray.”

“Heh… promises, promises.”

Jericho shook his head and smiled to himself. He paced idly back and forth in front of the car, scanning the crowds of people shuffling around Wenceslas Square—a place that had historically proven to be popular with tourists. Groups of women moved from store to store on either side of the boulevard that ran through the center. In the middle, he could see a large crowd of Japanese tourists posing awkwardly in front of the large monument, which stood proudly between the two roads.

“Okay, I’m inside,” said Collins over comms. “It looks clear. I’ve got eyes on Vincent now. He’s sitting alone eating breakfast. He’s got a briefcase with him.”

“Copy that,” replied Josh. “Sit tight, let him finish his meal. If he gets spooked and decides to run, we could lose him, and that information, forever.”

Jericho scanned the crowd expertly as he listened to Josh’s instructions. He had a tremendous height advantage over almost everyone around him, which was obviously beneficial, but the place was so busy that even looking down at the sea of people, he knew he’d struggle to pick out anyone who was trying to stay hidden.

Just then, however, something caught his eye. Maybe six hundred yards away, at his two o’clock. He snapped back, narrowing his eye as he focused on what he’d just glimpsed—a split-second image of something that triggered a subconscious familiarity.

“Was that...” Jericho whispered to himself.

He saw it again, clearer this time. A Mohawk haircut, poking up out of the masses.

“Shit...” He pressed his comms. “Guys, listen up. We’ve got company.”

“Who is it?” asked Josh.

“Damian Baker,” Jericho explained, strolling casually back toward the car and leaning against it, keeping his eye on the alley. “He’s a member of the D.E.A.D. unit I used to run. If he’s here, the rest of them are, too. And that means that whatever Vincent’s got, it’s important enough to warrant sending the best
they’ve
got to secure it.”

Jericho thought how Baker had always been a good, loyal soldier to work with, back when he was leading them. He shook his head, unable to grasp that it was only a fortnight ago when they were part of a close-knit unit, on the CIA’s unofficial payroll.

“Alright, change of plan,” said Josh. “Ray, make the approach now. Be delicate, but understand we don’t have much time. Julie, watch his back.”

“Copy that,” she acknowledged.

Jericho scanned the Square again. He still had a fix on Baker, who had taken up position across from him, maybe a couple of hundred feet farther down.

“There’s no way he’s not made me,” whispered Jericho.

“Alright, sit tight, stay frosty and wait for the others. Get out of there quickly and quietly,” replied Josh. “Can you see if he’s with anyone?”

“Negative. But the rest of them have to be here somewhere. I’ll find them.”

“We’re scanning the area now via satellite,” said Josh.

Jericho looked back over, but Baker had disappeared. He quickly scanned the immediate area, but saw nothing that raised a red flag to him.

“Fuck... I lost him,” he said.

“Never mind, I might have something,” replied Josh. “Across the street, on the roof of the hotel at your one o’clock.”

Jericho directed his gaze where Josh had instructed, looking to the sky. The rooftop had a large, decorative, stone barrier along the edge, with small gaps in between the waist-high pillars.

“I can’t see anything,” he said.

“We’ve got a sniper,” confirmed Josh. “Lying prone and staring in your direction.”

Jericho sighed. “Charlotte LaSharde,” he said. “It has to be.” He looked away casually. He knew she wouldn’t shoot without reason, as she’d need to retain cover until Vincent was in play. “Ray, whatever you’re doing, do it faster, would you? I’ve got a sniper marking me. Julie, how’s it looking?”

“Still clear,” she said.

“We need to keep Vincent inside. If I’ve got two of them on me, the other two will be tracking you.”

“You know these people, Jericho,” said Josh. “What’s the play?”

Jericho let out a taut breath. “These guys are pros. They won’t break cover until they need to, and they’ll be swift and effective when they do. We need to be better, simple as that.”

Jericho touched the gun at his back subconsciously before looking back up at LaSharde for a moment. He took a deep breath, turned away, and headed down the alleyway after the others.

“Coming to you,” he said.

09:19 CEST

Inside the hotel, Collins stood resting casually against the bar in the restaurant area, off to the left of the entrance. He’d spotted Daniel Vincent almost straight away, sitting alone at a table, sipping a glass of water.

He quickly scanned the room, dismissing the notion of any immediate threat. Besides Vincent, there was a family of three off to his right, and two young women sitting directly ahead.

He tapped his gun through his top, ensuring it was accessible on a moment’s notice, should he need it, and headed over toward Vincent. He had thick, short hair and a full beard, with thin-framed glasses. He wore a sweater vest over a shirt, with a tie fastened loosely around an open top button. He was sitting at an angle to the table, with his legs crossed and a briefcase resting by his feet.

He looked up as Collins approached the table, visibly tensing as they made eye contact. Collins held a hand up to him when he spotted the change in body language.

“Daniel Vincent?” he asked.

Vincent nodded silently with concern in his eyes, straightening up in his seat.

“Danny Boy, my name’s Ray—Ray Collins. I’m from GlobaTech, and I’m here to get ya home safely, alright?”

Vincent frowned, shifting nervously in his seat. “H-how do I know you are who you say you are?” he asked.

Collins made slow, deliberate gestures with his hands. “I’m gonna reach into my back pocket and take out my I.D., alright? Be cool.”