Deadly Intent: An Action Thriller (Adrian Hell Series Book 4) (30 page)

“At least let’s look for roof access first… there might be a fire escape, but even if there’s not, we’ll be able to see any alleys or service entrances before we approach them on the ground.”

“If you wanna waste time scouting around while terrorists blow up the planet, go right ahead. Personally, I’m getting inside that building as quickly as I can. If I see anyone, I’ll shoot them.”

Wallis looks to Clark and Raynor for some kind of support. Clark holds his hands up in a
keep me out of it
gesture. Raynor just shrugs.

“Time’s against us,” he says to Wallis, before turning to me. “But that said, it don’t matter how quickly we get inside if we’re shot down the moment we do.”

I sigh. “Fine, come on.”

I keep low and head to the entrance of the first store, which is a local coffee shop. I try the door, but it’s locked. Inside, I see members of staff cleaning. I tap on the window and one of them looks over. I point to the door, and they shake their head, mouthing to me that they’re closed. I look at Wallis, who steps up without a word and places his FBI badge to the glass. The worker’s eyes widen slightly, and they turn to say something to their colleague. The two of them stand looking at us, and then walk over and open the door.

“FBI,” says Wallis, taking point and pushing past them into the shop. “Do you have a rear entrance, or roof access, to the property?”

The taller of the two workers steps forward, taking charge. He’s a skinny guy, probably younger than he looks, with fair hair and bad skin.

“Just the service entrance,” he explains. “There’s an alley at the back where we keep the trash.”

Wallis looks at me and raises an eyebrow. I nod.

“Perfect,” I say.

“Thank you for your help,” says Wallis, turning back to the worker. “Now lock the front door behind us and don’t open it for anyone else, understand?”

The guy nods eagerly. “Hey, is… is this anything to do with what’s going on outside?”

Wallis flicks his eyes to me before answering. “The less you know, the better,” he says, all very officially. “Just keep your doors locked and stay put ’til you’re told the area is safe.”

The workers look at each other excitedly. I push past everyone and head through the back at the side of the service counter. It’s a small kitchen, with another door leading to a larger storage area. In here is a makeshift office space in the right corner, consisting of a small desk with a chair behind it, and three in front; a modest-sized shelving unit containing boxes of, what I assume, is coffee and snacks; and on the left wall, a double door with an EXIT sign above it.

I head for the doors, drawing my gun and holding it two-handed in front of me, ready for anything. Pausing, I lean against the left door and listen for a moment, then push it open, peering slowly around it. Seeing nothing, I step outside, quickly snapping my gun level, checking all the angles. Behind me, Wallis and Raynor do the same, slotting in step with me to form a triangle. Clark comes out last, staying a few steps back and covering the rear.

The area outside is small and enclosed. Facing the doors, is a wall belonging to another store. The right is a dead end too, leaving us with no option but left. This brings us to a miniature courtyard, of sorts. Against the left wall and the wall behind us to the right, are large dumpsters, surrounded by trash bags. Ahead of us is a narrow passageway that opens out on John Portman Boulevard, just to the left of the ComForce building. Off to the right is another alley leading farther into the courtyard. I head for it with the others covering. I look up and all around but see no movement.

So far, so quiet.

I press myself against the wall and peer around the corner. This alley leads along the back of the stores on Baker Street, but opens up to the left about three hundred yards in front of me. I signal for everyone to stay where they are, and I push on, keeping low, and pausing just before the left wall disappears. I scan the area and see a small patch of grass with a large tree in the center—easily fifteen feet high. All around it are old wooden benches, and beyond them is the back entrance to the ComForce building.

Much like the front, there’s a security desk just inside the double doors on the right, and a pad for scanning a swipe card next to some glass gates, that I assume open automatically when you produce your card.

The glass is tinted, and I can’t see farther inside very well. However, looking round, I see two men patrolling the perimeter—one on the other side of the tree with his back to me, and one walking away from me to the right, along the width of the building. The second guy’s holding a submachine gun close to his right hip; the strap slung over his left shoulder.

I glance over my shoulder and motion for everyone to join me. They move quickly, forming a line next to me.

“Well?” whispers Wallis.

“Two guys guarding the rear entrance,” I say. “Can’t see inside clearly.”

“Silent takedown?”

I shake my head. “Too far away and too far apart.”

I sigh. There’s no way inside without taking these two out. And there’s no way of doing that without shooting them, which will make an awful lot of noise, and attract a lot of unwanted attention.

I peek around the wall again. The guy by the tree hasn’t moved, but the other one with the submachine gun is walking back across the building toward us.

He’ll have to go first. I’ll have a second, maybe two, after dropping him for the guy by the tree to react and turn round.

Plenty of time.

I look back down the line, catching everyone’s eye in turn.

“You know that element of surprise I’ve been so desperate to keep?” I ask.

They all nod.

“Well… fuck that.”

I turn and move out, raising my gun and firing twice. The first bullet hits the guy with the submachine gun in his chest, high up just below his throat. As he falls backward from the impact, I snap left and fire again, catching the second guy in the side of his head as he steps out from behind the tree. His face disappears in a crimson flash, and his body slumps to the floor.

Screams from the street beyond fill the air, and I look up at the building, expecting to see signs of commotion sixteen floors above me. There’s no movement anywhere, so I walk quickly over to the first guy, tucking the borrowed Glock 22 back in my waistband. I pick up his weapon, a Heckler and Koch MP7, feeling the weight and checking the mag.

Time to end this.

37.

11:26 EDT

I take position next to the door, with Wallis across from me. Raynor and Clark spread out, covering from a slight distance. I look across and nod, and Wallis responds the same. I push the door open hard and dash in, sliding to a stop on one knee and sweeping the area quickly for signs of life. Wallis appears next to me, with the others coming in moments later.

The area isn’t as spacious as the main reception area out front. There’s a small station on the right side, currently unoccupied, with elevators in the far wall opposite us. On either side of them are double doors—the right side leads to a stairwell, according to the sign next to it; no idea about the left, but my guess would be it’ll eventually bring you to the front of the building. In the center of the space is a mid-sized circular decoration made of marble, with some indoor plants in it at the base of a large palm tree.

I jump over the glass gates by the swipe pads and walk toward the elevators, gun ready. As I draw level with the plants, the door on the left bursts open, and three men rush through, screaming and firing carelessly in my general direction. I spin away to my left, ducking behind the tree. I look as everyone scatters; Wallis and Clark dive right, behind the desk, while Raynor crouches by the glass swing gates.

Looking back, the three men are fanning out, firing at us relentlessly. I squeeze off a quick burst of blind fire off to the right, creating a momentary pause in their onslaught as they move for cover. In that split second reprieve, I stand and take aim, firing at the man on my far left and dropping him with a controlled burst to the chest.

To my right, I hear multiple shots from Wallis, who’s resting on the desk and taking aim at the remaining two gunmen. He kills one with a well-placed bullet to the head, and wounds the other by catching his shoulder. As he stumbles from the gunshot, I let off another burst and hit him in the right side, pushing him away and into the door. He hits it hard and slides lifelessly to the floor.

“Everyone alright?” I shout over in the deafening silence that follows any gun battle.

“We’re good,” replies Wallis as he walks out from behind the desk with Clark close behind.

Raynor steps over the glass gates and joins us. “So much for the quiet approach,” he says.

I shrug. “I’ve never been one for stealth,” I say. “Now, we need to get to the sixteenth floor. Elevators aren’t an option.”

“Agreed,” says Wallis, nodding.

“We’ll split up—me and Raynor will go left; Wallis, you and Clark take those stairs on the right. Keep quiet, don’t fire unless absolutely necessary, and we’ll converge on the sixteenth.”

“Won’t those doors lead us to the front of the building?” asks Raynor.

I nod. “I assume so, yeah. We just need to keep our heads down, and be quick at taking anyone out. I know there’s a door to some stairs in the left corner as you look from the front doors. My guess is we’ll come out at the opposite end of a corridor to these two.”

“That might actually work out well,” adds Wallis. “If the media see you from outside shooting terrorists, the story will break that
we’re
fighting back, which will put pressure on the people who
should
be and aren’t.”

I hadn’t thought of it like that, and it certainly make sense. But it makes me think about another factor.

“It’s not going to be long before people turn up who don’t want us here,” I say. “The CIA will try to kill us. The FBI will try to arrest us. Either way, it doesn’t end well. Bottom line is, El-Zurak’s somewhere above us, and he needs shooting. Preferably
after
he tells us what this has to do with the director of the CIA.”

“Agreed,” says Wallis. “We need answers, ideally with evidence, before we shoot anyone important. Good luck, Adrian. See you up there.”

I nod and look at Clark, who doesn’t look well.

“Bob, relax,” I say, sensing his reservations about going into battle.
“
There are three MP7s over there, so everyone grab one. Let Wallis take point, you stay back and provide covering fire where necessary. Once we’re up there, we need you to disable Cerberus.”

“If I can…” he replies, quietly.

“You can,” I say. “I know you can. We’ll buy you all the time you need to do it, okay?”

He nods and I turn to Raynor.

“Ready?” I ask him.

“When you are,” he replies.

The three of them move over to the newly-dead terrorists and take a weapon, putting their handguns in the waistbands as I have. We then pair off and head over to our respective doors.

“Thanks, Tom,” I shout over. “Watch your back.”

“Any time,” he replies. “You too.”

He heads through the doors on the right, somewhat reluctantly followed by Clark.

“You think they’ll be okay?” asks Raynor.

“Don’t worry about them,” I say. “Worry about us.”

I walk over and open the door to the left, stepping to the side and propping it open with my foot. Raynor nods and walks through, stopping in a crouch and covering as I step through. I guide the door closed behind me with my hand, to reduce the noise.

We’re at one end of a long corridor. There’s plush carpet underfoot, which I’m thankful for, as it reduces the noise of our footsteps. Halfway along, on the left, is a fire exit. Just farther on from that, on the right, I can make out another door, but can’t tell what it is from here.

“Watch my back,” I whisper as we both set off down the corridor toward the main reception area ahead. We make it halfway when the door on the right bursts open and three men step out. I freeze and hold my breath, holding up a fist to signal to Raynor behind me.

They look in a hurry, and thankfully don’t look left—they practically run ahead and disappear out of sight.

I let out a heavy breath and hear Raynor do the same.

“That was close,” he whispers.

I nod and set off again. I manage two steps before the same door bursts open again. Two men step out, but this time they turn left and stop in their tracks when they see me, not moving—frozen like a crazy statue with a goofy, awkward smile on my face. The whole scene slows to a stop for a moment, with everyone caught off guard.

“Hey fellas…” I say.

Just as they resume normal speed and go to shout something, I squeeze the trigger twice with only a slight movement in between. Two bursts of fire hit them both in their chests, and they flail backward to the floor. I step to the side to allow Raynor a clear shot ahead.

“Wait a sec,” I say to him.

Sure enough, the three from before head back around, guns aimed at us. I fire off a couple of bursts, as does Raynor. Between us, we drop them all before they have chance to fire at us.

“So far, so good,” Raynor says.

“So far…” I reply.

We reach the end of the corridor, and I peer round the corner. I can hear a faint roar of commotion from outside, and the flashing of cameras through the doors momentarily blinds me.

Our little exchange was obviously overheard.

It looks clear, so I step out, checking the angles while Raynor covers my six. The door to the stairwell is on my right in the corner, as I remembered.

“We good?” I say without turning round.

“I reckon so,” replies Raynor. “I assume most of their manpower will be upstairs.”

“I’d imagine so.”

I make it to the door and wait for Raynor to take up position across from me. I put one hand on the handle, ready to pull it open, but just as I do, I hear a noise behind me. I look round to the front doors and see objects being thrown, breaking through the glass and skidding across the floor.

Oh shit…

“Tear gas!” I yell, bringing my left arm up across my face, as the violent hiss of releasing gas fills the air. “Get through the doors!”

Raynor opens them and steps through. Gunfire erupts from the front doors, and I return blindly, coughing on the fumes. I dive through the doors and drop to my knees, struggling to breathe.

“You alright?” asks Raynor, crouching down beside me.

I nod and stand, looking through the glass in the door to see a four-man squad entering the building, dressed head to toe in black, wearing masks and tactical goggles, and armed with assault rifles.

“Shit,” I say, still choking. “The CIA’s here.”

“You sure?” asks Raynor.

“I recognize the outfit. They’re not here to arrest us—we need to move.”

We turn and start up the stairs, taking two at a time, not caring about who hears us. By now, everyone will know someone’s here, even if they don’t know it’s us. I just hope Wallis and Clark are having better luck than we’ve had so far.

We make it up four floors before I hear any noise. Above us a door slams open, and I hear the stamping of multiple pairs of boots on stairs. I take a chance and lean over the railing to look up. I very quickly duck back as a hail of bullets spits down at me, followed by shouting.

“Company?” asks Raynor.

“Maybe three floors up and heading this way,” I reply.

“Those CIA boys won’t be far behind us either.”

We keep going, quickly reaching the fifth floor stairwell, and I stop by the door to catch my breath.

“We’ll dig in here, kill these bastards, and carry on,” I say.

More gunfire rings out in the stairwell, this time from below.

“You seem awful confident!” shouts Raynor over the noise of the gunfire, sounding unconvinced.

“Confident… crazy—it’s a fine line, I guess.”

I look at the door and back at the stairs, playing out every scenario I can think of in my head.

“Okay, go back down the stairs,” I say after a moment. “Just one flight—crouch down out of sight.”

Raynor does so without a word. I wait near the door, listening for the men approaching. When they’re only one flight away, I pull the door open hard so it slams against the wall, then head back down the stairs, quickly and quietly, to join Raynor.

“What are you doing?” he hisses.

“Watch,” I reply.

The men appear a second or two before the door slams shut. There are five of them. Instinctively, they open it and pile through.

Hook, line and sinker; assholes.

“Come on!” I whisper to Raynor.

Swiftly, we run back up the stairs and through the door, turning right to see the men filing through the office area in a blind rush. They all stop and fall over each other as they hear me enter, but I open fire before they have chance to turn and react. Taking my lead, Raynor fires as well. With them huddled together and caught off guard, a few controlled bursts of gunfire drops them all with minimal fuss.

I know, I could’ve let them go and snuck past, but that would mean there are five guys running around, who will ultimately head back to the sixteenth floor, and I could do with leveling the playing field as much as possible before I get up there myself.

“You’re a devious son’bitch, you know that?” he says, half smiling, but with a look in his eyes that betrays his concerns.

“Just doing what I need to,” I reply with a shrug. “Come on, we’re not done yet.”

We move and stand either side of the door just as the four CIA agents pass us. I look at Raynor and nod, which he acknowledges. As the last one draws level, I push the door open, hard, and hit him with it. I step out and crouch, emptying a burst of fire into the chest of the guy on the floor at close range. Behind me, Raynor fires over my head at the group of three, dropping two of them, but missing the one who is already halfway up the next flight of stairs. I snap my gun up and fire, catching him in the leg, causing him to fall back down the stairs. As he lands, Raynor fires and finishes him off.

“There’s hope for you yet, Sheriff,” I say with a smile.

He scoffs. “After a week in your life, I’m ready to retire… How the hell did you live like this?”

I shrug. “I’d say you get used to it, but I’d be lying. You just… learn to ignore the things any sane person would find issue with.”

We take a couple of moments to catch our breath before setting off up the stairs again, taking two at a time. We make it to the sixteenth floor without further conflict.

I listen at the door, hearing movement close by. I signal to Raynor to sit tight, and I adjust my grip on my gun, getting comfortable as I prepare for the next onslaught.

I don’t know what’s beyond this door, but I have to assume the Armageddon Initiative has come prepared. El-Zurak’s here, so he’ll make sure he’s well protected. They’ll also have hostages. The fifth floor looked empty, but I don’t know about the rest. My guess is the majority of people were able to get out of here during the initial takeover. I doubt anyone on the sixteenth floor would’ve been so lucky though.

I have to play this smart and absolutely shouldn’t kick the door down and start shooting… no matter how much I might want to.

I look at Raynor, who by now, I assume, has come to know me pretty well. He looks at me with a raised eyebrow and sighs heavily, as if sensing my struggle between what’s smart and what’s crazy.