Black Flagged (The Black Flagged Technothriller Series) (35 page)

Devastated, Claire returned to the U.S., unsure of how to proceed with her life. She accepted what was supposed to be a temporary position at the safe house, but settled into a quiet life and never left. After ten years on the job, the CIA signed an open-ended lease to have her live in the attached brownstone. Ten years after that, she was an enigma to most agents who crossed the safe house's threshold. Most agents figured she was a stuffy, miserable wife for some aging member of the wealthy Georgetown elite. Few would ever suspect that she was the building's guardian and keeper twenty-four hours a day, 365 days a year.

She was specially attuned to her "house," and when the gate squeaked the first time, she figured it was Keller and eased back to sleep. When the gate squeaked again, a few minutes later, Claire became a little more alert. In fact, she found her arms covered in goosebumps. Something wasn't right. She glanced at the digital clock on her nightstand. 12:35. She never saw 12:36. A low-pitched alarm sounded throughout her home, and she sprang into action.

**

Petrovich focused on the door as thermite charges burned through the locks and hinges at 2,500 Celsius, on four points along the outer vestibule door. The thermite was overkill for this door, but he didn't want to waste any time. The charges burned for five seconds, turning any solid metal components in their path into molten liquid and igniting the door. Daniel kicked the solid wood into the vestibule and started the chronometer on his watch.

He immediately set to work on the second door, placing small plastic explosive charges where he would logically expect to find hinges. He set a larger charge around the door handle and attached wires to each package. The wires led to a small black device that he dug out of the backpack, which lay open at his feet. He grabbed the backpack and evacuated the porch.

"Move," he whispered and pushed Farrington off the porch.

Huddled against the front of the house with Farrington, Daniel rapidly squeezed the "clacker," catapulting the serene, multi-million dollar neighborhood into a war zone. The simultaneous detonation of four compact charges blew wood and brick fragments onto the parked cars in front of the house and activated every car alarm within a one-block radius. It also removed the door cleanly. Daniel mounted the stairs and rushed through the dust and floating debris, and saw that the twisted door had simply fallen inward.

Petrovich sprinted through the heated smoke, searching for the front desk. He found it at the back of the room. His attention was drawn to a single burning stack of yellow Post-Its in the center of the desk. Everything else had been knocked clear by the concussion wave generated by the C-4, scattered in disarray on the floor behind the desk. Petrovich noticed several other small fires throughout the room, but they didn't concern him. He should be out of this structure before any of the fires become consequential. He methodically searched the back of the desk and found what he was seeking. A bank of three hidden buttons. Now he was really in business.

Daniel reached into the black military style pouch attached to his belt and removed a "special." He didn't need to visually confirm what he held. He knew the feel of the three types of grenades in the pouch and hoped he wouldn't have to search for the round, smooth type. He pulled the pin on the grenade and released the trigger handle. In one expertly timed motion, he pressed all three buttons and sprinted to the staircase, casually tossing the grenade with his left hand, in an arch toward the door at the top of the stairs. His timing was perfect.

**

Berg slowly got up from one of the dining room chairs when the alarm sounded. Keller had just arrived and was drinking a glass of water across from him at the dining table. He thought Keller would need more than a glass of water after the attack on the Pentagon, but didn't want to risk an interaction with the toxin that was likely still present in his body. He couldn't believe the raw nerve of the Black Flag group.

Keller stared off at an original piece of Revolutionary War art hanging on the wall, as Berg glanced at him, slightly annoyed. Keller must have left one of the doors ajar. He couldn't really blame the agent, but now he'd probably have to listen to one of Ms. Claire's lectures about security. He begrudgingly walked toward the hallway door when the entire building seemed to shake on its foundation and the lights flickered, causing both of them to sprint into the hallway. Neither of them was armed.

"Keller, check the front windows. I'll call—"

"First priority is securing this door!" a female voice screamed from the front of the hallway.

Claire appeared from the conference room doorway holding two weapons, a semi-automatic shotgun fitted with an ammunition drum and an MP-5 submachine gun. She tossed the MP-5 and two spare magazines at Keller, who was already sprinting toward the door leading to the stairway. The door buzzed before Berg could move.

"Help me with the door!" she screamed, just as Berg was knocked off his feet by another blast.

**

The grenade sailed up the staircase in a perfect trajectory and detonated less than one foot from the door. The "special" was a unique device used to achieve maximum distraction and confusion during a hostage rescue operation. It would first send a concussive shockwave in every direction, followed immediately by a two-millisecond-delayed flash of blinding light. All of this was topped off by a controversial third stage. A small white phosphorous charge simultaneously exploded with the flash, sending specks of smoldering material in a spectacular shower throughout a fifteen-foot radius. The pieces of white phosphorous were no larger than a grain of rice, but they ignited whatever they touched, and even the most steadfast opponent couldn't ignore the fact that they were on fire.

In this case, the shock wave created by the initial blast flung the door wide open, knocking Keller flat on his back and saving him from a direct shower of white phosphorus. Still, his clothes caught fire in several places. Blinded by the flash, he was temporarily unaware that his custom fit suit had ignited.

Claire was jammed back against the conference room doorframe, but was spared the effects of the flash and white phosphorous that had been funneled straight through the open door. She quickly regained her senses and leveled the shotgun at the opening, preparing herself to fire down the staircase at the slightest sound.

Berg remained lying on the floor, stunned by the blinding flash and concussion. Still far enough away from the door when the grenade exploded, he didn't get hit with any of the burning fragments. Hazy vision returned, and he saw the open doorway to the stairwell, which caused him to panic and scramble out of sight into the kitchen doorway. He barely had time to register Keller's body directly in front of the burning doorframe, but it was long enough for him to realize he'd have to go back out there immediately.

**

A shower of smoking fragments hit the bottom of the staircase a few feet from Daniel Petrovich. Some bounced off the walls and bannister, hissing, while others immediately adhered to whatever they first struck. Regardless of how the pieces of white phosphorous behaved in those first few seconds, without fail, they all set fire to their final resting place. Daniel rounded the corner of the burning bannister, leveling the MP-9 toward the open door at the top of the staircase, aiming down the sight as he took the stairs in a rapid, controlled manner. He kept his focus on the hazy opening. If he had glanced around, or expanded his field of vision, he might have been slightly unnerved to realize that the entire staircase was tightly sprinkled with over a hundred tiny, dancing fires. Growing fires. For now, all he registered was a growing sensation of heat.

He'd reached a point halfway up the stairs when he heard a female voice yell a command.

"Get Keller out of there! I'll cover the staircase."

He processed the possibilities and continued up the stairs. Anyone who appeared at the top of the stairs would be killed immediately. Barely a second after he heard the brusque voice, he saw a shotgun barrel appear from the right side of the door. By the orientation of the gun, he could tell that it was braced straight against someone's shoulder and that his or her head should appear…now. Through the thickening smoke, he saw the faintest trace of a head appear at the door frame and fired a quick, tightly-aimed burst where he knew the rest of the head would emerge within a fraction of a second.

**

Claire watched Berg sprint over to Keller and decided it was time to earn the paycheck she had been collecting for nearly twenty years. She wasn't afraid to face down the enemy at the bottom of the stairs, but she did have some concern that another grenade like the last one might explode in her face. She could see Keller's clothes starting to catch fire and could not imagine the horror of taking a burst of those fragments to her face. Because of this trepidation, and the fact that at 53 years of age, she didn't move as fast as she did as a field agent in her thirties, she hesitated at the doorway, and it saved her life.

She heard a sudden snap as she started to move into the doorway, and the wooden frame directly in front of her face splintered. She knew what had happened before the bullets' sonic trail changed the air pressure around her eye cavities. One of the bullets had missed hitting the far side of her face by less than three millimeters. Though the threat of these bullets had long passed, Claire reacted instinctively and pulled her body back. Still, she persisted in her mission and forced the shotgun around the corner, squeezing the trigger until she thought her hand might break. Eight deafening blasts roared into the opening.

**

Daniel knew he had miscalculated the burst as soon as he had fired, when the head didn't fully materialize. He actually hadn't miscalculated. If the head had followed at the same speed of the shotgun, he would be able to charge the top of the stairs unopposed. Instead, he saw two hands jam the shotgun into the doorway opening, which meant immediate trouble. He lurched backward and managed to throw himself through the burning bannister, crashing down on top of a smoldering antique table and chair. He didn't hear the bones crack, but knew he'd broken two lower ribs and damaged his left knee upon impact with the furniture. He felt no immediate pain, but the knee almost failed as he stood up and grabbed the MP-9 from under the desk.

Farrington crouched in the vestibule and assessed the situation. He was dressed in dark blue jeans and black turtleneck sweater, holding a shortened M-4 assault carbine fitted with a red-dot sighting system. He looked deadly serious and well practiced in this type of work, though Daniel doubted the man had ever kicked a door down in his life.

"Need help?" Farrington said, aiming his rifle up the stairs.

"Negative. Keep an eye outside," he replied.

"Out in sixty seconds," Farrington said, and Daniel realized he would have to escalate his use of force to get the job done.

He took two grenades out of his pouch and walked over to the staircase. One was a "special" and the other had a smooth, round surface. Daniel was done fucking around with this situation. He laid the submachine gun on the first step and pulled the pin on both grenades. He sailed the M67 frag grenade through the now impenetrable smoke and heard it hit the floor somewhere beyond the door, followed by panicked screams. He'd add the "special" to their misery as soon as the frag detonated.

**

Claire's shotgun heroics bought the CIA agents fifteen seconds to regroup and get Keller out of the hallway, where he was certain to be killed. Berg pulled Keller back to the kitchen entrance and started to rip the burning pants from his body, but Keller had regained his senses enough to continue himself. Berg turned his attention back to the burning doorway and leveled the German made MP-5 submachine gun against the kitchen doorframe, tucking his exposed elbow tight against his body and shifting his head as far behind the frame as possible while still sighting down the barrel of the gun. He presented little for his attacker to hit and braced himself for the inevitable assault. Just as he settled into the frame, a grenade hit the hardwood floor in the hallway and rolled toward Berg.

"Grenade!" he screamed and stumbled backward into Keller, knocking them both across the small kitchen floor.

The grenade exploded several feet from the kitchen entrance, cratering the floor and dislodging drywall, instantly filling the hallway with smoke and fine dust. Small pieces of the grenade's metallic outer shell splintered wood, shredded light fixtures and ripped through the walls. One fragment destroyed the fingerprint security device leading into the communications room, eliminating access to the building's biggest potential liability.

Berg crawled desperately over Keller to get back into position in the doorway, which had been shattered by the direct blast. He could see damage from several fragments embedded in the stainless steel refrigerator standing next to the doorway and realized that his jumbled panic had been justified. Some of the fragments had traveled through two sets of drywall to reach the refrigerator and would have likely instead found a home in Berg's body if he had stayed.

Just as Berg slammed himself against the loose doorframe to stare down the sights of his weapon, he heard another metallic object strike the floor somewhere in the thick haze ahead of him. He didn't have time to retreat, but luckily for him, the sharp concussion of the "special" didn't send steel fragments through his internal organs. Instead, it showered the entire hallway with more white phosphorous and blinded him for several seconds. Out of desperation and panic, he blindly fired two quick bursts in the direction of the doorway, which almost hit Claire as she sprinted down the hallway for a better position.

**

Daniel mounted the stairs quickly, and his eyes caught rapid movement as his weapon's barrel cleared the top of the stairs. He fired a quick burst at a fast-moving shadow and heard a scream, but couldn't concentrate fire on the target. Several small-caliber bullets snapped overhead, causing him to take cover behind the top of the staircase. He felt his knee buckle as he crouched, and could tell he would catch fire if he remained here. Taking a massive risk, he sprinted up the stairs and threw himself into the first room to his right, fully expecting to collide with one of the CIA agents.