Apocalypse Burning (38 page)

After a handful of seconds, the CIA agent slumped.

Satisfied the man was out, Goose took up the machine pistol and quickly went through the three-room apartment. He already knew the general schematics from other apartments in the area: living room/kitchen, bedroom, bath were set up in a straight shot.

No one else was there.

He returned to the front door, intending to wave Danielle into the building. He almost ran into her as she ran up the steps to the secondfloor patio. The rain dogged her footsteps. She wore dark clothes and a black watch cap he’d found for her.

“You were supposed to stay put,” Goose growled.

“I got worried.”

“If I hadn’t secured the room, you might have got dead.” Goose bent down and grabbed the first man by the ankles.

“Did you kill him?” Danielle asked.

“No. I choked him down and knocked him out. I didn’t come here to kill anyone.” Goose dragged the man from the patio into the apartment and closed the door. He nodded toward the computer. “Go. We don’t have much time.”

Danielle hesitated, then seated herself in the chair at the computer. She looked at the screen. “What is this?”

“Computer game.”

“I see that, but these players are linked.”

“So?” Goose laid the first man by the second and dug a roll of ordnance tape from his chest pack.

“What if the guy on the other end can shut down this computer from where he is?”

Goose tore off a strip of tape and started binding the first man’s hands behind his back. “I don’t know.”

Danielle stared at the screen. “Whoever it is wants to know if I’m still here.”

Goose moved to the computer and looked at the screen, scanning the type at the bottom of the screen.

>YOU THERE?

>YOU THERE?

>HASKELL, YOU THERE?

Leaning forward, Goose typed:>BRB.

“Be Right Back?” Danielle asked.

“Gamespeak,” Goose said. “They use it on Net Chat too.”

“And you learned this how?” Danielle asked.

“Joey. My teenager. He games a lot. I’ve watched him play. Gamers get used to starting and stopping play. I’m hoping these guys aren’t any different.”

>OK. GOTTA TAKE CARE OF SOME STUFF AT THIS END FOR A MINUTE. LEMME KNOW WHEN YOU WANNA GET YOUR TAIL KICKED SOME MORE.

Goose nodded at the computer. “Okay, let’s get it done.”

Danielle opened the Internet window and started typing. With the satellite connection, the Internet stayed on.

Goose finished binding, blindfolding, and gagging the two CIA agents. Then he took the removable hard drive from his LCE and hooked it into the computer system. A pull-down menu floated to the top of the screen and revealed that the computer had found the new hardware.

“You have to love the new plug-and-play stuff,” Danielle said.

Goose didn’t say anything as he watched her work.

Muckraker:>R U THERE?

The reply came almost immediately.

Mystic:>HERE. I’D ALMOST GIVEN UP ON YOU. THOUGHT MAYBE THE GREMLINS GOT YOU.

Muckraker:>WORKING OUT OF THE GREMLINS’ DUNGEON, SO WE HAVE TO WORK FAST.

Mystic:>NO JOKE?

Muckraker:>SERIOUSLY. I’LL TELL YOU MORE LATER. IF I GET OUT OF HERE. I NEED THE FILE.

Mystic:>I’M GETTING A STRONG PING ON YOU. ONLY TAKE A FEW MINUTES. I’M SENDING.

Another pull-down window appeared on the screen, asking where the file was to be delivered. Danielle pointed to the icon for the removable hard drive. Then a blue line popped up and showed the progress of the download.

Goose breathed shallowly, keeping the mind-numbing fear at the back of his skull. He was exposed and vulnerable, and he knew it. Even if he got Danielle and himself out of the CIA safe house alive, which he had every intention of doing, Remington would know he had been there and want to know why. Danielle could step away from those questions, but Goose couldn’t. And he wasn’t prepared to answer those questions yet.

The blue bar finally crept across the screen and read 100 percent.

Mystic:>YOU’RE DONE.

Muckraker:>THANKS.

Mystic:>IF YOU LIVE, LET ME KNOW HOW IT TURNS OUT. OR MAYBE I’LL READ ABOUT IT ON THE NET.

Goose let out a tense breath as he disconnected the portable hard drive and put it back in his LCE, making sure the protective foam was in place. He took Danielle’s elbow. “Let’s go.”

Danielle worked the trackball, opening file folders all across the screen. “Wait. Maybe Cody and his team have more information in here. It’ll only take a second—”

“We’re done,” Goose said. He released her elbow and picked up the computer tower. The screen went blank as the connections pulled free.

“Taking the computer?” Danielle asked.

“No.” Goose didn’t want any trace evidence left on the computer’s hard drive of who had been there and what they had done. He stepped out onto the patio, leaned over the side, and dropped the computer into the half-filled Dumpster below.

Hurrying down the steps, favoring his bad knee, Goose took an AN-M14 TH3 grenade from his LCE, pulled the ring, then popped the spoon. He tossed the grenade into the Dumpster, then turned, caught Danielle’s arm, and shoved her toward the other end of the alley.

“Run,” he growled.

“Was that a bomb?”

“Grenade,” Goose replied, and the liquid
whoosh
of the explosion filled the alley. A wave of heat washed over him and he ducked instinctively. When he glanced back, light belled out over the Dumpster and the metal sides were already turning to molten slag. There was no way anything of the computer would remain that could be used to find out what they had done.

“That wasn’t a grenade,” Danielle said, peering back at the fiercely bright destruction. The rain hissed as it touched the cherry red Dumpster.

“Yeah. It was. Thermite grenade,” Goose said. “Burns up to five thousand degrees and capable of destroying any equipment it’s placed on. That’s what they were designed for. Pretty amazing. You can pop those things underwater and they’ll burn for forty seconds.” He looked at Danielle. “We need to go. Even in this rain, this will draw someone’s attention.”

Danielle nodded, then turned and followed him back into the shadows. “What do we do now?” she asked.

“We look over the material,” Goose said. “See what we have. Then we make a plan.”

She trotted, catching up to him to walk at his side. She hunkered her shoulders against the rain and thrust her hands into her jacket pockets. “We’re still talking about the CIA here.”

“Cody’s group,” Goose said, wanting to cut down the odds they stood against as much as he could.

“And Nicolae Carpathia and his organization, which seems to be spread around the world.”

Goose hesitated. “There’s more going on than what you think, Danielle. There’s more at stake than you realize.”

Danielle glanced at him. “So now you’re going to go all mysterious on me?”

Goose shook his head. “I’m just not the guy to explain it to you.”

“Then who is?”

“Corporal Baker.”

A look of surprise filled her face. “Corporal Baker as in Baker’s Church Corporal Baker?”

“Yes.” Goose let out a breath. “He needs to be in on this with us.”

“This is my story.”

“Baker isn’t a reporter, ma’am. And I think, after you talk with Baker, that you’re going to see that you’ve got a bigger story than you thought you had.”

“Bigger than Nicolae Carpathia’s not being the golden boy everybody thinks he is?”

Goose looked at her. “Ma’am, you have no idea how bad Nicolae Carpathia can be.” His headset beeped for attention. He stepped into an alleyway as a jeep filled with Rangers on patrol rumbled down the street. The headlights flashed across the street and narrowly missed him as he pulled Danielle out of sight. “Phoenix Leader.”

“Phoenix Leader, this is Dispatch.”

“Go, Dispatch.”

“You’ve been instructed to return to base, Phoenix Leader.”

The announcement sent a cold chill through Goose. He had to wonder if Remington had already somehow found out about the assault on the CIA safe house.

“Affirmative, Dispatch. Phoenix Leader is en route.” Goose took the portable hard drive from his LCE, still wrapped in its protective sleeve, and handed it to Danielle. “Take this and find out what’s on it. Get with Baker and tell him I told you to bring it to him. Tell him I want him to tell you everything we figured out.”

Danielle took the drive. “What have you guys figured out?”

Goose shook his head and looked back down the street where the jeep had pulled in at the flaming Dumpster.

“There’s no time, ma’am. I’ve got to go. If the captain’s not wanting to see me because of this, then it’s something else I’ve got to move on.” Goose was already thinking that Remington was ready to spring whatever plans he’d been forming since the rain had hit. “I can’t say when I’ll be back.” He looked at her. “Trust me, ma’am. The story you’re really after is the biggest thing anyone has ever seen.”

She wanted to ask more questions. Goose saw that in her face.

“Baker,” he reminded her. Then he was gone, double-timing through the night to find out what Remington wanted, hoping that his secrets were still hidden from the Ranger captain. Goose knew that Remington couldn’t deal with everything Goose already knew and was beginning to suspect.

Crossroads Shopping Center
Columbus, Georgia
Local Time 2225 Hours

Joey stood frozen like a deer in headlights.

“What you two boys doing in my store?” the Asian man demanded again. He looked at the pry bar Joey held and shook his head. “You boys no good boys. You thieves. That why I sleep in back of shop. I know thieves come here, try to steal. But I have gun.”

Nausea swirled through Joey’s stomach and he thought he was going to throw up.

“You boys keep hands where I can see them,” the man ordered.

From the corner of his eye, Joey saw that Derrick had his pistol up and was pointing it at the shop owner. “Don’t, man!”

“I’ve got a gun,” Derrick said. “Just put your gun down and nobody will get hurt.” His hands trembled violently.

Joey wondered if Derrick had even thought to take the safety off, but he knew for a fact that Derrick was going to get both of them killed.

“No!” the old man shouted, swiveling his gun on Derrick. “You put gun down or I shoot you!”

“Don’t,” Joey pleaded in the calmest voice he could. It wasn’t very calm, he knew, because his words sounded scratchy and thin even to his ears. “He won’t shoot you, mister. The gun’s probably not even ready.”

“You put gun down!” the old man yelled. “You put gun down right now!”

Over the old man’s shoulder—the movement slowed down as time dragged because Joey’s senses were spinning so rapidly—Joey saw Zero step out of the darkness. Zero’s face caught part of the bluish cast thrown off by the TV that was once again showing a story about Megan Gander. He looked like a swimmer surfacing out of the shadows, like something evil that had stepped into view.

“I kill you!” the old man shouted. “You put gun—”

The cannonlike reports of Zero’s .357 Magnum blew away the old man’s voice. All of the shots struck the man. Joey saw his frail body jerk with each impact.

The gun fell from the old man’s hands. Then he stumbled forward, crossing the short distance to Joey. Blood dribbled from his mouth and coated his chin as the television glow caught his face. In two more staggering steps, the man grabbed Joey’s shoulders and held on tight. Then his knees buckled and he fell. His grip remained tight and he almost pulled Joey down with him. Joey bent, barely remaining on his feet as the man hooked his fingers into his jacket.

The old man stared at Joey, and his eyes looked sad and scared, like he couldn’t believe what had been done to him.

Zero stepped forward and kicked the man’s arms, knocking his hands from Joey’s shirt. Roughly, Zero grabbed Joey’s neck and pulled him into motion. “Get moving,” Zero ordered. He cursed and shoved at Joey until Joey headed out of the shop at a dead run. Derrick ran at his heels.