James Acton 01 - The Protocol (28 page)

“We’ll be at the hospital in less than five minutes.”

Reading and Nelson surveyed what remained of the lobby as backup arrived.

“Just
after
the nick of time, lads,” said Nelson, holding up his I.D. to the armed officers.

“Sweep the building, top to bottom, there may be more,” said Reading. “Take these two for interrogation and the injured one to the hospital. Put a guard on him.”

“Yes, sir!” said the PC who hustled the surviving men out of the building. The new arrivals fanned out for the search. Those who had been involved in the earlier action sat on bullet-ridden leather couches in a corner, relaxing.

Reading pulled out his cell phone and called Chaney’s number.

“Hello?” asked an unfamiliar voice.

“Who is this?” asked Reading.

“Umm, who is this?” asked the voice.

“This is Detective Chief Inspector Reading of Scotland Yard,” said Reading in his most commanding voice. “And you are?”

“Sorry, Chief, this is Professor Acton.”

“What are you doing with Chaney’s mobile?”

“We’re at the hospital, he’s been shot.”

“Tell me where you are,” said Reading as he strode toward the door.

Dawson exited the same alleyway as the professors had and looked in both directions. There was no sign of the other SUV. He pressed the control to his radio. “Bravo One to Control.” There was a momentary pause.

“Control here.”

“Control, mission partially accomplished. The building has been shut down, however, none of the targets were captured.”

There was silence at the other end.

Dawson waited and was about to repeat what he had said when the radio crackled.

“Return to base and await further instructions. Control out.”
Not before I free my men.
He turned the corner and pulled the SUV to the side where they could see the entrance of the Triarii headquarters. Ambulances and other emergency personnel were still arriving. He grabbed a scope off his vest and peered through it for a better view.

“That’s Red!” said Spock, who was doing the same from the back. Two attendants carried a gurney down the front steps. Dawson watched as his friend, strapped down and cuffed, was pushed into the back of a waiting ambulance. Two more men were led out and loaded into the back of a squad car.

Dawson radioed their chopper pilot, Wings, to see where he was. He had been ordered to insert the team on the roof of the Triarii HQ, then return with a vehicle for pickup. “Just approaching your position now, Bravo One. ETA thirty seconds.”

“Roger that, Bravo Twelve,” Dawson watched his rearview mirror. A few seconds later a cube van turned the corner. “We’re in the black SUV, tinted windows, about one hundred yards in front of you. Come up beside me.”

He watched as the van pulled up beside them, then looked back at Spock and Niner. “Spock, you go with Wings and take out that squad car. Niner and I will retrieve Red.”

“Roger that,” said Spock as he jumped out of the SUV and into the van. It took off after the squad car as Dawson put the SUV into gear to follow the ambulance. He let it get far enough away from the scene so backup wouldn’t be too close, then gunned the engine to overtake it. Cutting in front of the ambulance, he slammed his brakes on, blocking its path. He and Niner jumped out. Niner put a bullet in the driver before he could radio for help as Dawson ran to the back and pulled open the door. The cop and paramedic were both still picking themselves up off the floor when he stepped up into the vehicle. He cold-cocked the officer and pointed his gun at the paramedic.

“What’s his status?” asked Dawson.

“BP is one hundred over—”

Dawson cut him off. “Is he going to die if I move him?”

“N-no, it’s just a leg wound, he’ll be fine with proper treatment.” Dawson breathed a sigh of relief as he undid the straps holding his friend to the gurney. He searched the officer’s pockets, retrieved the cuff keys, and unlocked his friend.

“’Bout time you showed up,” said Red, grimacing as he was helped out of the back of the ambulance.

“Good to see you, too,” replied Dawson. Niner had already pulled the vehicle up to the door. Dawson helped Red into the back seat then climbed in with him. “Go! Go! Go!”

Niner floored it and headed back to their secondary rendezvous point where they could switch vehicles without it being traced back to the base.

Dawson turned to check on his friend’s wound. “Looks like a through-and-through. Bleeding’s under control.” He looked his friend in the eyes. “You’ll live.”

“To fight another day.” Red started to laugh then stopped, his face contorting in pain. “I think I’ll just sit here and be quiet until you get me some drugs.” Dawson smiled then pressed his earpiece when a transmission came in from Spock.

“Bravo One this is Bravo Five, beginning to engage.” There was silence for about two minutes as Niner drove them through the relatively empty streets of nighttime London. The wait seemed interminable until finally a burst of static sounded in the earpiece, followed by Spock’s voice, “Bravo One this is Bravo Five, two targets retrieved, heading to rendezvous point Alpha, over and out.”

“They’re okay,” said Dawson to Red who had had his communications gear confiscated earlier. Red smiled and closed his eyes as Niner headed out of the city.

Royal London Hospital, London, England

Reading burst through the doors of the waiting room and saw the two professors sitting nearby. He walked briskly toward them as they rose from their chairs.

“Hello, Chief,” said Acton. “He’s been in surgery for about half an hour, no word yet.”

“How did it happen?”

“He was shot in the back trying to save us,” said Laura.

“It hit his vest,” explained Acton, “but went right through. Some type of armored piercing round. I pulled him into the vehicle and Laura drove us here.”

“What’s the prognosis?”

“He lost a lot of blood, but was conscious when we arrived,” said Acton. Reading finally noticed that Acton was covered in blood.

“Okay, I’m going to go and see if I can find out what’s going on. And, professors,” Reading put a hand on each of their shoulders, “thank you.” He made eye contact with each of them for a moment then headed to the nurses’ station.

The White House, Washington, DC

In the Oval Office, President Jackson sat with his elbows on his desk and his hands clasped over his head, pulling at his thinning hair. Darbinger sat on one of the leather chairs facing the desk, watching his old friend, and trying to figure a way out of the mess they were in.

“I can't believe the most highly trained special operations unit we have failed to capture a civilian professor
female
twice in a row!”

“Neither can I, Mr. President,” said Darbinger. “The police seemed to know what we were after. They didn’t all fall for the diversion. And we knew the Triarii headquarters would be extremely well defended. The unit lost several men, but managed to eliminate several dozen members.”

“There are thousands of members!” cried Jackson. He lifted his head from his desk. “From all accounts not one of the council was eliminated, and all we have is one of the skulls we didn’t already have before.”

“Yes, Mr. President,” agreed Darbinger. “The Triarii enacted The Protocol before we could reach them. We have the skull from the British Museum and, as far as we know, the newly discovered skull is still at large. If we just wait a few years for things to cool off, maybe the Triarii will let down their guard and we can find a third skull then?”

“The Triarii will never let their guard down, not so long as there is a skull missing. I’m going to end this now.”

“But, Stewart–!”

“Now!” roared Jackson.

Dawson read the secure communiqué that had arrived for Red.
Structural Amorphous Metals (SAM) project not capable of transparent structures. Hope that helps.
He clenched his jaw.
Control lied. What the fuck is this thing all about?

The communications gear beeped, demanding his attention. He put the headset on and entered a code to unscramble the transmission. It was Control. Dawson listened to the voice over his radio. “Bravo One this is Control. I want you to eliminate the two targets with extreme prejudice.”

“Control, this is Bravo One. Extreme prejudice, sir? Can you please clarify?”

“I want a message sent,” responded the voice. “I don’t want them just killed. I want them eliminated in a public way so that no member of the Triarii will ever sleep again with both eyes closed. Use one of those choppers if you have to.”

“Bravo One to Control, please confirm! We are on a foreign ally’s soil, these are civilian targets. A public take-down could result in other civilian casualties.”

“Carry out your orders, or your identities go public.”

“Sir, what is this all about?” asked Dawson, going out on a limb he knew he shouldn’t, but with nearly half of his team dead or injured, he didn’t care anymore. “I know the SAM project can’t make these skulls.”

There was silence for a moment. “I’m looking at your file. You have a sister in Connecticut don’t you? And a godchild named Bryson?”

Dawson remained silent as he pictured his sister and his niece as well as Red’s son.

“If you want to see them again, follow your orders. Control out.”

Dawson sat back in his chair and ripped off his head set, throwing it on the table.

He’s lost it!

Dawson now knew who Control was. Normally he didn’t, but he had been tipped off before they started the mission in Peru that their orders were coming from the top, and he recognized the phrase: “They’ll never sleep again with both eyes closed.” He had heard it in enough speeches about terrorism to know who had just ordered him to kill two civilians, one a foreign national, in public, on foreign soil. And if he didn’t follow his orders, his sister would be dead and the identities of he and his men would be revealed, which would mean none of their families would be safe.

Darbinger listened in horror as his friend of many years turned off the communications gear and rose to face him.

“What’s wrong?” Jackson asked. “This will end it, once and for all.”

“You’ve gone too far!” said Darbinger. “You have to let this go! These are innocent people who have done nothing wrong. You are risking an international incident with one of our greatest allies just to settle a grudge because you’re pissed you failed!”

“Watch your tone with me!”

“You had Billy killed didn’t you?”

“Who the hell is Billy?”

“Guthrie’s kid,” said Darbinger. “He saw the file and you had him killed!”

“I couldn’t risk him getting in the way of God’s plan,” replied Jackson.

“God’s plan? God doesn’t want innocent kids killed!”

“Enough!” screamed Jackson. “We may be friends, but don’t forget who got you where you are today!”

Darbinger shook his head. “You’re not my friend. My friend wouldn’t be doing this. My friend would realize that this had to stop,” he pleaded. “Please, you have to let this go!”

Jackson smiled and started toward the door. “This has only just begun. After I rid the world of that goddamned professor, I’m going to hunt down the Triarii until I possess all of the skulls. God put me here for a purpose, and this is it!”

He opened the door and slammed it behind him.

Darbinger stared at the closed door in disbelief.
He’s gone mad!

Royal London Hospital, London

Reading, Acton, and Laura stood by Chaney’s bedside as he regained consciousness. Reading looked at him and smiled.

“Just like a junior copper to get shot in the back while running away!”

Chaney smiled. “Good to see you too, guv.”

Reading laughed and turned to the professors. “He’ll be okay.”

“Professor Acton,” whispered Chaney weakly, “you must get the third skull to the Triarii.”

“Yeah, I realize that now,” said Acton. “How do we find them?”

Chaney smiled then passed out.

“Great, what do we do now?” asked Acton.

“You’ll need to leave now,” said a voice from the doorway. “Mr. Chaney needs his rest. You can come back tomorrow to see him.” She handed Acton a card. “Here are the visiting hours.”

“Thanks,” he said, putting the card in his pocket. They filed out the door and headed for the elevator.

“What now?” Laura asked.

“Well, I guess we go get the skull from your apartment and then wait for the Triarii to contact us,” said Acton.

“I’ll come with you,” said Reading as they entered the elevator. “You may need protection. And besides, I still have a few questions for you.” As they exited the hospital, Reading flagged a waiting squad car – the bullet-ridden Triarii SUV they had made their escape in having already been taken away as evidence.

RAF Lakenheath, USAF 48
^th
Fighter Wing

“How ya doing?” asked Dawson as he entered the infirmary where Red was being looked after.

Red smiled. “Not bad. The doc said I’ll be fine, hopefully operational within a few months. Now, what’s wrong?”

“Control’s lost it.” He sat down on the edge of the bed and leaned closer so no one else could hear. “He wants the targets eliminated publicly.
Very
publicly.”

“Permission to speak freely?”

“Granted.”

“B.D., this sounds like an illegal order to me,” said Red. “You don’t have to follow it.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Why?”

“He threatened Bryson and my sister, all of our families if I don’t. I have no choice. I’ll try to keep the civilian casualties to a minimum, but this one is going to be a cluster-fuck.”

Red’s heart monitor beeped faster. “He threatened our families?”

“Yes. Like I said, this is out of control. If we make it out of this, we’ll talk about what we’re going to do about it.” Dawson watched as the beep rate increased. He placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of things. Nobody is going to hurt Bryson or your wife. After tonight, Control won’t be able to hide.”