Ripper (40 page)

Jack ducked back behind a large van, reached behind him, and pulled the nine millimeter from his waistband. The weapon had been given to him by Alice, and Jack had taken it with the knowledge that Alice was one of the better-armed elderly ladies in Las Vegas. Before he left the house he made sure both she and
his mother Cally were properly armed. Jack pulled back the slide and made sure the weapon had a round in the chamber. Then he straightened and crossed the street after a short burst of traffic passed by.

In the twenty minutes Collins had watched the shop, he had only seen the two men inside the shop. He realized that the kids he had spent the past five years training for their security positions
were all more than likely dead. He just hoped they had taken as many of those bastards down as they could. As he made it across the street, he slid past the overhead street light, made his way to the right side of the building, and slid along the brick wall toward the first of the two blast holes in the building. He stayed on the far side of the three-and-a-half-foot break and stayed against the
wall, waiting.

He knew that the imposters would have to cover the hole eventually, and as he didn’t just want to knock on the front door, Jack waited. It didn’t take long. As the light inside the shop filtered through the man-made hole, he saw a shadow, and then as he leaned forward slightly, a piece of cardboard was placed over the hole. Jack reached out and with his left hand made a scratching
noise on the makeshift patch the man was using to seal the hole. Suddenly the light inside flared as the man pulled the cardboard away. Jack almost had to smile when the mercenary stuck his head through the hole.

“Hi,” Jack whispered as the man’s eyes widened to the point of popping free of his skull. The momentum of the barrel of the heavy nine millimeter caught the mercenary squarely on top
of his head. He collapsed and Jack easily pulled him free of the hole. With one look toward the street, Collins raised his right foot and brought it down on the unconscious man’s neck, crushing the windpipe and severing his spine just below the jawline. Collins reached down and pulled the man along the alley and then placed the lifeless and broken body beside the Dumpster, silently covering him with
discarded cardboard and newspaper. He then returned to the hole.

As Jack stood still next to the entry point, he listened intently. When he heard no movement he quickly risked a look through the damaged brick. He saw no movement. Then the front bank of lights went out, meaning that the remaining man was in the back at the breaker box. He bent low and squeezed through the hole, scraping his back
against the damaged brick as he did, but he wasn’t feeling any pain at that moment. As he entered, he straightened and heard the lone man in the back call out to his partner whose job it was to seal the holes leading to the outside.

“As soon as you’re done, head down that elevator and join the strike team,” the voice echoed from the back.

Jack quickly looked around in the semidarkness and his
eyes fell on the silenced weapon that the recently deceased man had been carrying. He reached down and retrieved the heavy automatic. It was a Glock nine with a large noise suppressor attached. Collins placed his own weapon back into his waistband and then made sure the dead perp’s weapon was loaded and charged. It was. He heard the curtain leading to the back room part and as he sped, the second
man came through with a mop and bucket. Jack stepped into the darkened aisle. He caught the man’s attention as he stood straight, knowing he had placed his silhouette directly in the killer’s line of sight.

“You get the holes sealed?” the man asked as he leaned the mop against the glass counter. The man stood still when the figure standing in the aisle didn’t respond. Jack realized that the man
he was facing most definitely had years of military training as he didn’t hesitate in reaching for his weapon.

Jack’s training was far better and practiced for many more years. He raised the silenced weapon and shot four times in rapid succession. The first two rounds struck the man in both shoulders, making his gun hand go numb and forcing the weapon from his paralyzed grasp. The second set
of rounds struck him in the upper thighs, sending him crashing into the glass case filled with jewelry. As Collins approached, he heard the moaning of the perpetrator as he tried to extricate himself from the shattered glass of the case. Collins on his way past reached down and grabbed his collar, pulling him free and ruthlessly dragging him along until he was through the curtain and into the brighter
area of the storage room. He let the man fall to the floor as he scanned the area like an automaton to make sure he was the only one left in the pawn shop. His eyes fell on the blood the man had missed when he was cleaning.

The blue eyes of Collins managed to lock on several things at once. The door to the rear office was open and he could see the damaged desk and computer where the anesthetized
dart system had been activated. Then he saw the two army cots where the results of the booby trap were lying, unmoving. With a stern countenance he walked up to the cots and fired two not-so-silent rounds into the men’s foreheads, making their bodies jump with the impact of the bullets. Collins was on automatic, and anyone that knew him would have realized that Jack could be a cold and proficient
killer.

When he saw that the shop was indeed empty, he returned to the bleeding man who was trying to hold the wounds to his thighs with his two broken arms. Collins reached down and with one arm swung the man up and onto one of the dead he had just killed now lying still on the cot. Jack then looked down at the man, unscrewed the now, damaged silencer, and pulled it free of the Glock. His eyes
locked on the man writhing in pain. As the wounded man opened his eyes, they widened when he saw up close who he was dealing with. He shook his head to try to clear the pain that wracked his mind as Collins continued to look the man over.

“Son, anything you tell me that doesn’t have the ring of truth to it will bring on pain such as you’ve never known. Normally I’m not a cruel person. I treat
enemies by the rule book, even terrorists.” Jack ejected the clip in the Glock, pulled back the slide, and popped the lone bullet from the weapon. He then tossed the gun on the floor and pulled Alice’s weapon from his waistband. “But you are neither a warrior nor even a terrorist with an agenda. You are a mercenary who gets money for wet work—a traitor.” Jack leaned over to make sure the man was
hearing him. “I am a colonel in the United States Army, and son, you fucked with the wrong man at the wrong time.”

“Colonel, I … I … was … am a former member of the SAS. I work for men that want no harm to come to this country. I—”

Jack simply reached out and hit the man with the barrel of the nine millimeter, smashing and breaking his nose and sending blood out in a spray where it hit Collins
in his face and shirt.

“The queen must be proud of one of her boys that would kill innocent men and attempt to kill unarmed women. I don’t think she would approve of your job choices, son.”

“Please, don’t—”

The gun barrel again. This time it was on the left thigh directly over the large hole where the nine millimeter round had entered. “I talk, you listen.”

The man could only nod his head
as the pain from the blow coursed through his system.

“Good. I have your attention then?”

The mercenary nodded again, tears streaming from his eyes from the blow to his shattered nose.

“The man’s name leading the assault, who is he?”

“Ssssmith,” he struggled to answer.

Whack
, a blow was delivered to the other thigh, bringing a silent scream of pain as the man rolled to one side. “Smith, that’s
all I know.”

“The lie meter says you’re telling the truth,” Jack said as he pulled the man back into position for further questions. “How many on the strike team?”

“Twelve,” the man said, managing to open his eyes as the weapon was raised again. “Twelve, I swear! Your security team eliminated four of us!”

Jack closed his eyes for the briefest moment when he heard that his men had managed to
take four of the attackers down. Then he opened his eyes and became that cold and calculating killer again.

“The woman that was taken, is she dead?”

“No, she was taken below,” the killer said as he cried in pain.

“Your mission?”

“To … destroy … the formula … from Mexico.”

Jack pursed his lips as the words were spoken. “Who hired your team?”

“I … I … don’t get that information. My team is
stationed in Arizona. We—”

Collins was done with the questions. He had enough experience in these matters to know that grunts like the man on the cot had no knowledge of the men pulling their strings. His business lay with the man named Smith. He placed the automatic to the man’s forehead before his sentence was finished and pulled the trigger.

“Thank you,” Jack said and turned for the back
room.

EVENT GROUP COMPLEX
NELLIS AFB, NEVADA

Everett knew he was going to have to force Niles Compton from the complex as he stood before him in his office. The large monitor was on and he was watching the procedures happening at that moment down on level seventeen.

“Virginia is now in charge of the complex, Doctor. You need to get above ground and into the loving arms of the air force, and
if I have to call the president to get that done, I will.”

Compton looked up at Everett and saw him set his jaw. At that moment he knew that arguing with the former SEAL would be like arguing with his boss, Jack Collins. He angrily tossed the pen he had been fiddling with onto the desktop and pushed his chair back.

“I should never have allowed that crap into this complex,” Compton said.

“I’m
as much to blame as anyone. It was my duty and Jack’s to see what a potential hazard we had on our hands. It was us who saw what this stuff can do. So quit kicking yourself in the ass and I’ll get an escort for you to take you through security at gate two.”

“I’m leaving under protest,” Niles said as he stomped toward the door. He waited when he saw Everett pick up the phone on his desk to alert
the gate he was sending Niles through the tunnel.

“Your protest will be duly noted in the security log,” he said as he waited for his men to pick up the phone inside the pawn shop.

Compton shook his head and saw the concern cross Carl’s features. He saw him hang up and then try pushing the buttons again. Everett waited and then slammed the phone down.

“I’m going to have someone’s ass,” he said
angrily as he turned to the Europa terminal on Compton’s desk.

“What’s wrong now?” Niles asked stepping back into his office.

“No answer at gate two,” Everett said as he slammed the communication link down with his finger. “Europa, what in the hell is happening at—”

“Alert, alert! We have an intruder alert on level three, loading dock east. I repeat, we have a security breach on level three,
loading dock east,” Europa said, interrupting Carl’s question. “All security personnel are required at this time to report to loading dock east, transport rail.”

Everett couldn’t believe what he was hearing and Director Compton felt his face go flush.

“Maybe with all that’s happening, Europa has blown a circuit,” Niles said as he quickly moved to his desk next to Carl. That question was soon
answered when the doors to his office opened and Charlie Ellenshaw and Pete Golding burst through.

“Captain, we think we heard gunfire somewhere on the upper levels,” Pete said breathlessly.

Everett looked up and then went into action. “Get the director the hell out of here,” he said as he ran through the double doors.

As the intruder warning sounded again, Charlie was the first to take Niles
by the arm and pull him from the office.

“You know the drill,” Charlie said as Pete took Compton’s other arm.

“Damn it let go of me!” Niles protested.

“Sorry, the captain is a little bigger than you. Let’s go,” Pete said as the warning notice sent by Europa continued.

All around them the warnings blared.

As they hit the elevator in the large area where Pete’s assistants normally sat and worked,
they stopped as the sounds came down from above them and entered the office through the closed doors of the elevator, making Pete and Ellenshaw come to a stop while still holding Compton’s arms.

The sounds wafting through the double doors were of gunfire and screams.

*   *   *

The assault was well coordinated by a group of men who had served in Special Forces units trained by the United States
government. They were all patriots and believed deep in their souls the righteousness of the missions they were sent on.

After the larger of the tram system cars had transported the teams to the loading facility, it had only taken a brief moment for the two-man security team manning the dock to succumb to the assault team inside the first transport. Sarah cringed as the two men went down without
firing a shot. The confusion generated by the biohazard alarms and evacuation announcement by Europa had contributed to the quick subjugation of marine and air force security men.

The two men had at least been spared. Sarah was so angry and felt so helpless that tears were rolling down her cheeks. The most horrible aspect of the initial phase of the assault was the death of the young soldier
they had brought along to force Sarah’s cooperation. Smith had performed the murder himself, placing two quick shots into the dying security man’s head even as he sat wounded on the rear plastic seat of the magnetic transport. She didn’t understand why he spared some and not others.

As Sarah was pulled from the car and pushed onto the concrete loading dock, she took a hard swing at Smith who
moved easily away from her blow and then backhanded her once more across her face. Then he again grabbed her by the arm and pulled her into the complex following the team-by-team movement of his men.

“Is there a code to get into the elevator system beyond this point?” Smith asked as he slid into a heavy set of body armor.

“Kiss my ass!” Sarah shouted as she spit blood weakly toward the man who
was handed an M-14 carbine and bandolier of thirty-round magazines.