War Hawk: A Tucker Wayne Novel (46 page)

Jane whispered in his ear, leaning at his shoulder. “Look at those cables on the floor.”

He had noted them, too. A bundle of black snakes stretched across the landing, both extending into the passageway and continuing down the spiral of the stairs.

“Look like power and insulated data lines,” Nora offered.

“But which way do we go?” Tucker asked.

“Down the stairs,” Nora said without hesitation. “They’d need to keep the servers as cool and insulated as possible.”

With no better plan, Tucker crept around the curve of steps and joined Kane. The voices had grown louder, clearly rising from the passageway to the left. Kane sniffed in that direction, his hackles raised, again clearly picking up a scent trail.

Lyon.

One more reason not to go that way
.

Tucker reached Kane and sent the shepherd moving down the steps again, following the cables. This time, the spiral ran around three turns and ended at another steel door. The cables ran through a hole cored through the neighboring wall.

Kane reached the door first, sniffing along the sill—then backed a step and lowered to a crouch with his neck stiff, his nose pointed toward the door. Kane was silently signaling his partner.

Someone’s inside there
.

Tucker spotted no cameras, so he had Jane and Nora remain on the stairs and crossed to the door. He pressed his ear and could vaguely hear someone whistling inside. Considering all that was happening, the casual, nonchalant noise pissed him off more than any blistering curse.

He gently tested the door latch with a finger.

Locked.

Screw it
.

Tucker straightened and boldly rapped his knuckles on the steel.

This time Tucker got a curse, followed by a muffled inquiry. “What?”

Tucker growled his response, matching the other’s irritation. “Lyon needs you up top. I’m supposed to cover you.”

“What for?”

Tucker heard the worry and fear in this question; plainly their boss ruled with an iron fist. Tucker took advantage of this.

“Who the fuck knows?” he said. “Just get your ass moving if you know what’s good for you.”

Another curse followed, and the lock unlatched.

Tucker retreated a step. As the door opened, he grabbed the edge and yanked. The man inside, his grip still on the knob, got pulled off balance. As his body fell forward, Tucker punched the guard in the hollow of this throat. With a strangled cry, the man buckled forward. Tucker sidestepped him, palmed the back of the man’s head, and slammed his forehead into the steel jamb.

Bone crunched, and his victim collapsed limply to the floor.

Stepping over the body, Tucker scanned the next space with his SIG Sauer leveled. It wasn’t a room as much as an arched tunnel carved into the bare rock that delved deeper into the mountainside, extending beyond the reach of the pool of light cast by a pair of halogen pole lamps. He could make out a couple of broken copper-banded wooden barrels in the darkness.

Must be the old wine cellar for the monastery
.

But the naturally insulated space had been repurposed.

Along both sides of the tunnel were banks of six-foot-tall server bays, blinking with lights and entangled by cabling. A small steel workstation sat to one side with a keyboard and monitor.

Tucker did a quick sweep, then rasped softly, “Clear.”

He returned to the door, grabbed the downed man’s ankles, and dragged his body into the room. Jane and Nora followed him inside. Tucker signaled Kane to keep watch on the stairs.

Nora looked at the sprawled figure on the floor. “Is he d—?”

“Yep.” Tucker crouched down and frisked the man, freeing a compact assault rifle and pulling it over his own shoulder. The weight felt good as he stood.

Jane turned to Nora after studying the servers. “Is this what you were looking for?”

“I think so.” She strode over to the workstation and began typing at the keyboard as if she had worked here for ages, which considering her prior employment was partly true. She glanced to them and pulled out a familiar thumb drive. “This is the right place, but I’m going to need time to hack Sandy’s new code into these systems and broadcast them.”

“How much time?” Tucker asked, picturing the attack on the valley.

Nora looked worried and doubtful. “I’m not sure. Sandy was brilliant. I don’t know if I can—”

Jane put a hand on her shoulder. “Sandy left this drive for
you
. She knew you could handle it. If you don’t trust yourself, trust her.”

Nora took a deep breath, nodded, and set to work.

Jane joined Tucker. “We need to know what’s going on up there. Not to mention a backup plan if . . .” She glanced to Nora.

If Nora can’t pull this off
.

Tucker understood. “I’ll take Kane and scout the other passageway, see if I can spy on the nerve center and get a bead on what’s going on. If nothing else, I can create a distraction if necessary.”

Jane followed him to the door.

He stopped at the threshold, fished in a pocket, and passed Jane one of his spare radio earpieces to keep in contact with her. “You lock up behind me and guard Nora.”

“I will, but you be careful.”

He sighed. “If I did that, I certainly wouldn’t be in this mess.”

He turned away, but she grabbed his collar, pulled his head close, and kissed him hard. She then looked at him, struggling to put into words what glowed from her eyes.

“I know,” he whispered, and stepped away, pulling the door closed behind him.

He rushed the steps, gathered Kane to his side, and headed up.

As he climbed, he pictured the smug face of Rafael Lyon.

It’s him or us now
.

36

October 27, 1:36
P
.
M
. CET

Skaxis Mining Complex, Serbia

With Kane at his side, Tucker retraced his steps to the landing. He listened to the voices echoing from the passageway. Kane’s hackles rose again, picking up a scent that clearly stoked a deep-seated fury in the dog.

He silently signaled Kane to proceed.

C
LOSE
GUARD
.

The shepherd eased ahead, sticking to the ancient stone wall.

Tucker followed with the confiscated assault rifle at his shoulder.

As the voices grew stronger, so did the light. He also heard distant booms and the occasional loud cheer closer at hand. Clearly everyone’s attention remained on this final stage of the attack.

The hall ended in another ten yards, dumping into a cavernous space just past a carved wooden archway. Tucker joined Kane and crouched by a pillar at the base of the arch. Beyond the threshold, stone columns and giant oak crossbeams graced the expanse.

It was the monastery’s main church.

The archway opened upon the back of the nave on its second level, likely a former choir loft. The balcony spread across the breadth of the back of the church and extended along the walls to the right and left. Directly ahead was the wall of the church that faced out from the cliff face. Arched windows showed the sky, while below were the ten-foot-tall doors he had spotted earlier. One section had been pushed ajar, letting in daylight, along with the sharper sounds of the valley explosions.

A handful of men stood at that opening, watching the carnage to the south.

But the real action occupied the church floor. The main nave had been converted into a makeshift C3 suite. Down the middle of the room stretched a long trestle table laden with food staples and bottled water. To either side were U-shaped stations of computer consoles, topped by large rectangular monitors. Pairs of technicians stood or sat at those stations, calling out reports and updates.

From his vantage, Tucker spotted screens that showed aerial views of the smoky battlefield, coming from live feeds from the drones in the air. He also spotted what appeared to be black-and-white thermal imaging and a 3-D topographic map done in vivid colors.

A loud order barked to his left, out of view under the balcony on that side. “What’s wrong with that tank? Why’s it stopped?”

Tucker sneered upon hearing that accent, even Kane tensed.

Rafael Lyon
.

Directly ahead of Tucker, a narrow spiral stair led down from the balcony to the floor of the nave. Wanting to get a better lay of the land, he sent Kane to the stretch of loft that ran along the church’s left side, while he ducked low and ran to the right. He kept away from the balcony’s balustrade and circled wide to reach the loft on that side.

As he made the turn, a shadow shifted along the rail ahead, half hidden behind one of the stone columns. An armed guard. The man had his back to Tucker, his attention on the activity below. Tucker crept up behind him, then burst forward at the last step. Wrapping his left forearm across the guard’s windpipe in a strangling choke, he drew the man down and back behind the thick column. With the guard on the floor, he clamped down on his victim’s carotid artery. He waited until the man went limp, then draped his body to the floor.

Hidden behind the column, Tucker quickly stripped the guard of spare magazines for his rifle and pocketed them. He also checked on Kane’s status with his phone. He had Kane pan right and left, but there appeared to be no man stationed on that side.

Must be the only patrol up here
.

Tucker crab walked around the column to the edge of the balcony. He stayed crouched and was able to spy between the stone spindles of the balustrade.

Lyon shouted again. “Why is it just sitting there?”

The French soldier stalked back and forth behind one of the techs seated at a station. Tucker had a full view of the work space. The tech tapped and swiped at a touchscreen, while typing on a keyboard with his other hand.

“I don’t understand. It’s not responding.”

On the monitors above the tech’s head, a glowing map showed what appeared to be the town of Kamena Gora. Many areas were blackened out. Another screen showed an aerial view of the fields to the south. A tank rolled across the meadow, crushing through the pigsty of an outlying home. Sows ran through the grass. Other infantry fighting vehicles rocked across the meadow in the tank’s wake, guns blazing from atop the armored cabins, firing toward the town. All the while, a second tank sat idle in the field, as if silently watching the ongoing destruction.

“Get that bastard moving,” Lyon ordered.

“I can’t. It’s dead.”

But as they all watched, the turret of the parked tank turned. Smoke and flame burst from the gun muzzle as it fired. The shell struck the lead tank from only thirty yards away, blasting it up onto one set of treads, enveloping it with smoke. When it crashed back to the earth, half its turret was gone.

As if not satisfied with the one kill, the tank’s gun swung toward one of the infantry vehicles and fired again. The round missed, but the turret kept turning, readying for another shot.

While Lyon and the tech were baffled by the tank’s behavior, Tucker was not.

Good going, Frank
.

Frank must have finally been able to remotely commandeer one of the tanks, to bring it to Kamena Gora’s defense.

Lyon turned to another station, pointing to the man seated there. “Send in a Warhawk. Bomb that bastard.”

The tech worked quickly, but even his body language screamed his frustration. “I can’t get a targeting lock, sir. Not from any of the birds. It’s as if all our systems are blind to that tank.”

“But I can see it right there!” Lyon complained.

Tucker grinned. Rex must be electronically masking the tank, similar to how the CUCS unit had protected Kane and Tucker back in the Alabama swamp.

The tank fired again. The shell struck the armored infantry unit broadside and sent it rolling across the meadow, a gaping hole through its flank. But Frank wasn’t done. Treads churned grass and the forty-ton beast began to pursue other vehicles, gaining speed.

C’mon, big guy . . .

“Wait!” the tech in front of Lyon called out. “I think . . . I think I’m regaining control again.”

On the screen, the tank slowed, its barrel swinging erratically—then steadied.

“Got it!” the tech announced triumphantly. “Green lights across the board!”

From the neighboring station came equally good news. “And I’ve got a targeting lock on it finally.”

Tucker silently cursed. Apparently Frank’s defense was short-lived. Rex must have finally run out of juice.

“Do you want me to still destroy the tank?” one tech asked.

Lyon squinted at the glowing 3-D map. “No. Leave it where it is.” He tapped a spot on the screen, almost shaking with fury. “Send these coordinates to that tank and have it unload its remaining arsenal here. According to our premission briefing, most of the remaining townspeople are probably holed up in some caves on the western edge of the village. Blast the fuck out of this spot. If anyone survives the shelling, they’ll still be buried alive.”

“Yes, sir.” The tech started tapping in the coordinates.

Lyon strode across the length of the nave. “We end this now! Bring all guns to bear on those villages. Begin dropping the incendiaries and cluster bombs from the Warhawks. One last firestorm, men, then we clean up and get the hell out of this godforsaken place.”

He got muted cheers and a few
hoo-rahs
.

Tucker sank back behind the column and touched his throat mike. “Jane,” he whispered.

A long moment of silence stretched, then he got a static-frosted response.
“How’re things up there?”

“Bad . . . and about to get worse. You?”

“
Nora’s still working. Needs maybe another five or six minutes
.”

Tucker winced. They didn’t have that much time. “I’ll see what I can do at my end.”

Knowing he had to stop the shelling of the caves, Tucker rolled back to the balustrade and eased up enough to balance the barrel of his rifle on the stone rail. He centered his sights on the technician at the control terminal for the tanks.