Halon-Seven (49 page)

“Okay,” he admitted. “You got me.”

At his admission, she looked even more proud of herself.

“I’ll make you a deal,” she suggested. “I’ll keep your sordid secret…if you better acquaint me with Johnny Rock and Abigail Lang’s little trick with the ice cube and the peacock feather?”

Now Cyrus had a proud grin. “It’s a deal!”

His mind spinning at the innuendo, Cyrus was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of creaking wood coming deep from the darkness of the warehouse.

Ah, that would be the signal!

He glanced at the thermal image on his phone’s display. Dargo’s men were still holding position outside the industrial park. And it was nearly 7:30. If things were going according to schedule, they should have had the warehouse surrounded by the time the signal was given. That didn’t seem to be the case. The sound from back in the darkness was his cue; it was time to begin. If he was going to stick to the plan, he needed to investigate the sound. But the signal from the darkness didn’t mesh with the thermal reading of the troop deployment he was receiving on his phone.

Something wasn’t right.

“What was that?” Reese asked, moving smoothly to their script. Dargo would be listening. So would Bayer.

Climbing to his feet, Cyrus dusted himself off. “I don’t know. Wait here while I check it out.”

He thought for a moment. “If I’m not back in two minutes, don’t wait, and don’t come looking for me. Teleport out and don’t come back until you hear from me.”

This was complete play-acting on his part. Not only were the file boxes completely fake, but they didn’t have a functional teleportation platform in the building either.

“Be careful,” she said quietly.

He found sincerity in her voice along with the request. Clearly, she held some uncertainty for Dargo as well. He shot her a quick smile, grabbed his rifle and disappeared into the darkness.

Phoenix, Arizona

Sunday, 7:24 pm (8:24 pm Colorado Time)

Walking slowly and silently into the darkness of the warehouse, Cyrus listened for any hint of the soldiers he knew to be there. According to the plan, two of Dargo’s men would be lying in wait. But as he moved on, he was unable to find them.

The further he moved from the small work area he and Reese had set up, the murkier the warehouse became. It was a sprawling facility, and they’d engaged the overhead lights only in the section they were using. Still, Cyrus moved on. But with each passing step, an ominous suspicion was taking form, like a three-dimensional image in his mind. Something was wrong. The plan had already gone off the rails. He looked at the thermal readout on his phone. It showed that Dargo’s men were still holding position around the warehouse. Given the time, that was wrong. Turning back, he would double-time the return trip. He needed to retrieve Reese and get the hell out of here.

“I’ve got a bad feeling,” Cyrus said, as he stepped from the shadows cast by the last aisle of shelving. “Grab your stuff, we gotta—”

Cyrus froze in his tracks. A tall man wearing dark battle fatigues stood behind Reese. He had the muzzle of a Colt 1911 pressed against her head.

Two men swept in on Cyrus, one from either side. One relieved him of his rifle, the other took the Springfield from the holster behind his back. Once stripped of his weapons, one of the men pulled Cyrus’s hands behind his back and secured them in flex cuffs. The entire operation took only seconds.

One of the two men beside Cyrus nodded to the man holding the gun on Reese. Cyrus mentally tagged Reese’s captor as the man in charge and filed it away for future reference.

The man at Cyrus’s right pulled out a small, hand-held radio. “Area secure. You can come in,” he stated simply.

A moment later they could hear the squeaking sound of a distant service door. It was nearly thirty seconds before Dargo and four of his men emerged from the darkness, along with Nil Bayer and one of the men from his security detail. Bayer’s security man was dressed in the same BDUs as the men who held Cyrus at gunpoint. This was unusual, because Dargo’s men were dressed in less conspicuous street clothes.

“I don’t understand,” Dargo stated with some irritation. “This was not my assault plan. What is going on here?”

That was when Cyrus realized things had taken a terrible turn. His eyes flashed to Bayer just in time to see the man give a nod to the radio operator beside Cyrus.

“Now,” the man mouthed quietly into his radio.

Simultaneous bursts of gunfire coughed from the shadows of the rafter catwalks high above. The four men that had accompanied Dargo spilled to the floor simultaneously. Dargo moved instantly to raise his assault rifle, but he was stopped cold when he felt the muzzle of a 1911 pressed to his temple. The security guard who had accompanied Bayer held the gun.

Though he now recognized Dargo hadn’t betrayed him, the full weight of Dargo’s loss had yet to grip Cyrus. Blasts of automatic gunfire were heard outside the warehouse. With a physical burst of pain, Cyrus realized the radioman’s transmission was more than the signal to take out Dargo’s men inside the building. It was also the cue to wipe out the exterior and perimeter teams.

The distant gunfire was over as quickly as it had started. Cyrus was seething. It meant nearly two dozen of Dargo’s men were dead. Dargo, for his part, looked like he was ready to remove someone’s head with his bare hands. Cyrus could see Dargo about to make his move just before he made it.

Bayer’s bodyguard must’ve seen it, too. He fired a single shot into the flesh, just above Dargo’s knee, a moment before the massive Russian vented his rage. Blood splashed across the concrete floor—but somehow Dargo managed to remain standing.

In the end, it didn’t matter that he had held his feet. He’d lost his maneuverability and with it, any hope of a successful attack on Bayer. Blood coursed from the bullet wound in his leg. Still the big man stood, never even looking down at the injury. His eyes remained riveted on Bayer. Dargo was clearly gnashing his teeth. The bullet had brought only a brief reprieve. Soon one of them would be dead.

The man beside Cyrus secured his radio and fitted Dargo with a set of flex cuffs. It took two men to muscle Dargo into submission. In that time, Cyrus was afraid the trigger-happy guard might shoot the Russian again. But finally Dargo was cuffed, and the four soldiers seemed to relax as a result. That was interesting. Bayer’s new team was comprised of operators who lacked the professionalism and experience of Dargo and his men. They were mercenaries. As soon as Dargo was restrained, every one of them relaxed and lowered their guard. They considered Dargo no longer a threat because his hands were bound and he’d been relieved of his weapons. It was a good sign.
They have no idea who they’re dealing with.
Cyrus knew their ticket out of here when he saw it.

Cyrus had a simple plan. He needed to get everyone more relaxed, and ideally, more distracted. And he needed to buy some time in the process. If he could get free, he was sure Dargo could do the same. They would just need to make their move at the same time. There were four armed guards on the ground floor, plus Bayer. That wasn’t much of a problem. It was the two additional guards located in the corners of the catwalk overhead who posed the real threat. Cyrus glanced over his shoulder. Scratch that. There were two additional men in the corners of the raised walkway behind him. Four on the floor and four up above.

Damn.

The soldier who had bound Dargo finally finished, he approached his commanding officer. Cyrus was relieved to see the gun lowered from its position at Reese’s head. Reese’s hands were quickly bound behind her, and she was shoved toward Cyrus. With some relief, she took up a position standing between Cyrus and Dargo. All three now faced Bayer and the mercenary in charge.

“What’s this about?” Dargo demanded of Bayer.

“Consider this your exit interview,” Bayer said with a dry chuckle. “Your services will no longer be required. I don’t appreciate your betrayal.”

A sound that could be described only as a low growl emanated from Dargo. It seemed that even bound and shot in the leg, he was more than a little tempted to attack Bayer. “You have murdered my men!”

“Oh, please. Give it a rest,” Bayer said with some levity. “You would be dead now, too, if your son were here with you. Tell me, where is young Yuri? I want you to see him die before you are put out of my misery.”

Cyrus considered the twist of fate that had spared Dargo’s life. Dargo had benched Yuri, refusing to take the young man on this mission because Yuri was having trouble with the idea of working with Cyrus. Dargo had come to accept that Cyrus had had no fault in the death of his daughter, but Yuri had no such acceptance when it came to the loss of his half-sister. Plus, Cyrus had bested the man on two separate occasions. Since Yuri was a hothead, Dargo considered his son a potential liability and had left him out of the operation as a result. Had Yuri been present, both he and Dargo would surely be dead already. It seemed that, as long as Yuri lived, Dargo might as well.

Bayer had no idea the tactical mistake he had made. There was no doubt that Dargo had come to these same conclusions. Cyrus just needed to keep Bayer talking. He was pretty sure he knew how to do that.

“Two men have been sent to collect Yuri. He will be brought back here,” Bayer continued. “You will watch him die, and then I will watch you die.”

Cyrus wanted to change the subject. He took this opportunity to do it. “I know you,” he said to Bayer.

Bayer’s deep-set eyes focused on Cyrus. “I’m sure you do. But do you know that all of this would’ve been unnecessary, had it not been for you?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Crush—kill—destroy—you’re a gangster. Your checkbook has killed more people than second-hand smoke. But that’s not what I meant. I’m saying that I know who you are. Nil Bayer. You’re fantastically wealthy. You made the better part of a billion dollars after the fall of the Berlin Wall. What I don’t understand is why you need more money. Of all the people I expected to come after Meridian, I don’t understand why it’s you. Meridian can make the world a better place. All you want is to make more money?”

The pulsing vein on Bayer’s large forehead told Cyrus that his derisive words had scored the desired effect. For a moment, the man looked as though he might have an aneurism. This told Cyrus that the key to alienating the man was talking down to him.

Cyrus could recall reading a Forbes article about Bayer, years earlier. It was a classic rags-to-riches story. Bayer started out a low level scientist, working at the Russian Academy of Sciences. He’d likely been shown great disrespect by the military chain of command, to which, at the time, every department ultimately reported. Then, later, Bayer had made his mark and become amazingly wealthy. At that point, he would’ve finally gained power and influence. As a result, he was likely no longer accustomed to being challenged.

“Meridian has the power to remake global empires,” Bayer corrected. “Professor Meade’s plan had two fatal flaws. First, it was altruistic. Second, it lacked ambition. Why give Meridian to the world when the world will gladly pay for it? And why roll the technology out slowly? I have the manufacturing facilities standing by. I’ll have the transport platforms in mass production in two months time. Plenty of time to stockpile the hardware for a
literal
global, overnight rollout.”

Reese sputtered at the sound of Bayer’s plan. “You can’t do that! The technology
must
be deployed in stages. We’ve done simulations—an aggressive deployment will result in massive economic disaster on a global scale!”

The reptilian gleam in Bayer’s eyes sent a chill down Cyrus’s spine. “You are absolutely correct, Miss Knoland! Certainly not everyone would embrace the new technology overnight, but there would be enough acceptance to gain crucial momentum. That will be followed by a groundswell of support for the technology, which will force even the reluctant to follow suit. It will take two, perhaps three weeks at most, before the Meridian platforms gain critical mass. By that time, automobiles will have become antiquated technology. Airlines and shipping companies will have gone the way of the dinosaur. As a result, automakers, airlines, and dozens of other major industries will go bankrupt overnight. The demand for fossil fuels will plummet, causing massive economic unrest. These factors will snowball into a financial meltdown, as banks collapse and entire financial markets crumble.”

Bayer’s master plan left everyone speechless, but it struck Dargo particularly hard. He was appalled to have been a willing participant in such a plan. “You are insane!” he protested. “Untold lives will be lost in the chaos. This sort of thing starts world wars!”

“And you are correct as well, Mister Dargoslav!” Bayer was having far too much fun unveiling his plan. “Every person on Earth will look to their national or spiritual leader to show them a path from the chaos. But their leaders will have no salvation to offer.”

Rolling his eyes, Cyrus could see where this was going. “Let me guess. You’ll be the one with a turn-key solution ready to go. And you’ll be happy to lend a hand, for a price.”

“Precisely! By that point, I should think world powers will be willing to pay just about anything. Not monetarily, of course. By that point, conventional currency will be completely worthless. They will be forced to pay with what little they have left. I will unite a world vaster than even Alexander the Great! Disparate nations will unite under me, or they will see their people starve and freeze.”

The confidence Bayer was displaying was chilling. Given his resources, what he described might even be possible. He sounded like a crazed supervillain from a Saturday morning cartoon, but the nut-job might just be able to pull it off, if he got his hands on the technology.

The shocked, wide-eyed look that Reese gave Bayer demonstrated her speechlessness. Cyrus couldn’t blame her. The man was literally going for total world domination.

“How?” Dargo asked. “It is how the Americans say,” he looked over at Cyrus. “You cannot unring a bell? The damage will be done. Once it is done, there is no going back.”