Sleeper Cell Super Boxset (29 page)

“Now, there’s a good question for you to ponder while you’re rotting in your jail cell.”

The rumble in the distance was unavoidable now, and Dylan’s earpiece had gone wild with shouts and screams. Gunfire immediately erupted from the tree line where Moringer and his men were stationed, and Dylan had sprinted to the other side of the tree by the bench when he felt two quick thumps slam into his back. He stumbled forward into the grass and dirt, still holding the bag with the gear inside. He reached for the pistol at his ankle and fired into the darkness behind him.

Dylan crawled backward, listening to the popping gunfire try and break through the roar of whatever was above them. Dylan looked up and saw the flashing lights of planes and then watched the surrounding trees light up with fire that circled the entire field, orange flames contrasting against the night sky, while smoke billowed and blocked the stars above. Drifting embers danced and swirled in the wind, popping and crackling as fire consumed the woods.

Even from the distance, Dylan felt the heat from the flames, and the radio in his ear went silent. He pushed himself to his feet, his back aching from the bullets, but the Kevlar seemed to have done its job. The case with the chips was still gripped in one hand, while the other held the pistol.

The flames illuminated the field, but Dylan could find neither Perry nor his men. “Moringer? Moringer, can you hear me? Cooper? Anyone!” He tried to remember if Cooper had gotten his son, but he wasn’t sure if Moringer had said Sean was safe or not before the shooting started.

A blow landed across the back of Dylan’s head before he had a chance to think about it further, and he fell to the ground face first, and both the bag and the pistol fell from his grip. Disoriented, he managed to push himself to all fours, but before he could reach for the gun, Perry stepped on his wrist, aiming a pistol in his face.

“It’s a powerful force, fire,” Perry said. “Hot enough that it can melt the strongest steel and has the potential to ravage the entire earth, turning it into nothing but a pile of ash.” Perry looked to the tree line, the flames’ reflection flickering in his eyes. “It’s a distinct smell, the burning of human flesh. Once you smell it, you’re never able to get it out of your nose. It just… lingers there. You can taste it in everything you eat and drink for days, weeks afterward. I’d imagine Moringer and most of his men have burned out by now.” He turned back to Dylan, the pistol still in his hands. “It’s an unimaginable pain, Captain. One that you’re fortunate to never have to experience. But then again, you’ve had your share of pain over the years.”

Dylan yanked his hand free, but Perry took a step back when Dylan tried to grab for him then laughed when he fell into the dirt once more.

“Yours truly is the saddest story,” Perry said. “So close to the life you wanted, only to have it ripped away from you, then forced to watch as it disintegrates in your own hands.”

“Your scars, you think they hurt when you got them?” Dylan asked, rising from the ground, wiping the dirt from his face that had clumped among the sweat. “Put that gun down, and I’ll show you what pain is.”

“You’re done, Captain.” Perry’s smile vanished from his face as he clutched the bag of computer chips to his chest and lined up his shot. His finger was on the trigger, and just before his muscle jerked the trigger back, gunfire exploded behind him.

Dylan shuddered, and Perry spun around. It was only for a half second but enough for Dylan to lunge and tackle him to the ground. The combined weight of their bodies smacked against the compact earth with a thud, and the two rolled on top of each other a few times over.

Dylan gripped Perry’s throat, squeezing the flesh between his fingers, and then reached for the gun that Perry held just out of reach. Perry kneed Dylan in the stomach, but the Kevlar blocked most of the blow. Dylan kept reaching for the pistol, his fingertips grazing the composite of the gun.

Finally, Dylan had one hand on the pistol, but then a sharp spasm of pain shot up his thigh, and his grip on both the gun and Perry’s neck loosened. He looked down, and Perry’s hand twisted the knife deeper into Dylan’s thigh, the handle the only part of the knife visible. Dylan cried out, and Perry punched him across the face.

The gunfire grew closer, and Dylan rolled on the ground, his hand gingerly touching the knife, but even the slightest graze triggered a spasm of pain. Blood gushed up from the fabric of his pant leg and rolled down the side of his thigh. He gritted his teeth and heard the sound of feet rushing behind him. He quickly turned his head, waiting for Perry to finish him off, but instead he saw the face of Director Moringer, with a handful of men.

“Dylan! Are you all right?”

Dylan gripped Moringer’s collar, pulling him close. He started to feel lightheaded and was having trouble concentrating. “My son.” He grunted, suddenly feeling cold despite the still-raging fire that surrounded him. “Did my son—”

“Cooper got him out. They’re en route to a safe house now to meet with Peter and your daughter.”

What was left of Dylan’s strength left him, and he let go of Moringer’s collar and fell back into the grass. He watched the flames dancing in the night air as his eyes slowly closed. And for a moment, in the thick of the trees burning, he could have sworn he saw Perry, walking casually through the forest, fire all around him, and turning back to look at Dylan with a smile across his face.

Chapter 13

Dylan awoke with a stiff soreness in his leg that seemed to quickly spread to the rest of his body. He looked down at the tubes and wires attached to him and the thin hospital gown that covered him. When he moved his left arm, it was suddenly pulled back, and he noticed the cuffs around his wrist.

The heart monitor beeped faster as Dylan looked around the room. Another empty bed was to his left along with a curtain and a window that had its blinds drawn. Through the window in the door, he saw the shoulder of a police officer. “Hey.” His voice cracked and barely left as a whisper. He cleared it then tried again. “Hey!” He jangled the cuffs around his wrist, and the officer turned to look back then motioned for someone to enter.

It was Cooper. “Good to see you awake.”

“Sean. Where’s—”

Cooper held up her hand. “He’s fine. He’s down the hall, with Mary and Peter.”

Dylan rested his head back onto the pillow, the pain in his body numbing. “Do they… Have they watched the news?”

“They don’t know your involvement other than you helped save Sean,” Cooper answered.

But it wouldn’t be like that for much longer. Once the charges were filed and he was thrown behind bars, his children wouldn’t be hidden from those truths forever. “I want to see them.”

“You will, but the attorney general wants to change a few items on your deal. There’s been a few developments.”

“I don’t care. I’ll sign whatever he wants. Just let me see my kids.”

Cooper nodded then unlocked the cuffs around his wrist. “I’ll bring them in.”

Dylan sat up and tried to get out of bed, but his leg wouldn’t have it. He fidgeted anxiously, and when the door opened and both Sean and Mary stepped in, his eyes itched, reddened, and his throat caught. They sprinted to him on the bed and jumped up and wrapped their arms around him. It felt like his leg was going to explode, but the pain was worth it. “Are you guys okay?”

Mary pulled her head back and smiled, but Sean kept his face buried in Dylan’s chest. He kissed the top of his son’s head, and he felt the boy start to weep. His small body vibrated against Dylan’s chest. Dylan squeezed him tighter. “It’s okay, son. You’re safe now. I promise.”

Dylan looked over to Cooper, who gave a smile then disappeared, leaving him alone with his children. He wasn’t sure how much longer he had with them, but he was going to savor every second of it.

***

Cooper made her way into the makeshift conference room where Moringer, the director of Homeland, and the director of the FBI waited for her. She closed the door behind her and tossed the folder onto the table. “He’ll do whatever we need him to. He’s just happy the kids are safe.”

“Good,” Moringer replied.

The Homeland director knocked the folder off the desk in a fit of anger. “How did this happen? Did he even know what he had? Did he even realize what it was?” He jumped up from his chair and stormed over to the window.

“No one knew what we had,” Moringer said.

The table was scattered with papers stamped Confidential and Prototype. Cooper picked up some that had fallen and restacked them. “How much time do we have?”

“There’s no way to know,” the Homeland director said. “The Navy said that the prototype is functional but hasn’t been fully tested.”

“So it may not even work?” Moringer asked.

“No, it’ll work.” The Homeland director turned from the window, hands on his hips and his body sagging in defeat. “Perry now has the ability to control every nuclear arsenal in the continental United States. And god knows what he’ll do with his finger on the trigger.”

Distressed: Perdition

Chapter 1

The building in downtown Boston had been condemned for more than three years. The windows were shattered; fast food wrappers tumbled along the concrete from the breeze, only stopping when they were caught on broken needles. Rusted rain gutters that ran along the roof’s edges crumbled and sagged. Graffiti sketches stained the walls in an assortment of colors, designs, and symbols.

The early-morning sun mixed with the greys and soft blues of the sky. The air was warm but had yet to reach the sweltering temperatures that would come in the afternoon. Agent Cooper, armored down with Kevlar, combat boots, and an AR-15, crouched at the corner of the building, eyeing the weathered front door with a strike team huddled behind her in similar garb. A second team waited twenty yards to her right, and she gave the nod.

The quick shuffle of feet against the concrete and the light sway of their gear were barely audible in their stealth movements. They kept low, hunched under the line of dirty glass in what remained of the building’s front windows. Cooper came to a stop at the building’s stoop, where both teams converged, then paused.

Cooper flexed her hand in signals, and the squad leader across from her climbed the steps. Cooper flashed another series of signals to the agents behind her, and they nodded in confirmation. The squad took a step back, aiming their rifles at the windows, while the second squad gathered on the steps, ready to pounce through the front door.

Cooper counted them down, and on her signal, gunfire erupted from the rifles behind her. Bullets shattered the windows. The pieces fell like sheets of ice from the side of a glacier, crashing onto the asphalt below.

With Cooper’s squad distracting the side of the building, the second team burst through the door, firing gunshots. With the second team inside, Cooper and her squad quickly followed.

The terrorist cell that occupied the building returned fire, and Cooper ducked behind a brick pillar. Puffs of red dust peppered the air around her from the terrorist’s bullets, and when a lull in the gunfire occurred, she edged around the corner. She lined up one of the terrorists’ heads in her crosshairs then squeezed the trigger.

The terrorist dropped to the floor with the piece of lead firmly lodged in the center of his skull. His brethren slowly retreated to the back of the building, and Cooper watched them try to collect any documents that surrounded them.

With the enemy more concerned about the filing cabinets than with defending their position, Cooper led the charge, swarming over the terrorists like ants attacking a carcass. A group of the Egyptians broke off, heading to the back left corner of the building, but Cooper spotted them. “Don, Ken, with me.”

Worn cubicle walls, desks, and chairs blocked Cooper’s path as she followed the fleeing suspects. Priority number one was capture. A dead terrorist was harder to interrogate. At least that was what the CIA told her.

Cooper stepped around the corner of the hallway, and the moment her boot crossed the threshold, gunfire lit up the corridor. Cooper dove back behind the wall, both Don and Ken stopping with her. She peeked around the wall’s edge and again was met with a barrage of lead. “Grenade.”

Don plucked one of the plump explosives from his belt and handed it to Cooper. She squeezed the lever, pulled the pin, and then chucked it down the hallway. The grenade thumped against the floor and walls, followed by the terrorists’ screams, which were cut short by the explosion that rattled the building.

The moment after detonation, Cooper stepped around the corner, drifting through the wafts of smoke, her rifle tucked into the crook of her arm. Two of the terrorists were facedown on the floor, their bodies bloodied. “Check them.”

Don and Ken knelt down and took their pulse, then patted their bodies down, while Cooper searched for the third member she had seen earlier. She crept along the hallway, being mindful of the office doors on each side. She moved slowly, methodically checking each room before moving on to the next. The closer she came to the end, the more her muscles tensed.

Two rooms remained at the end of the hallway, one on either side of her. Cooper swiveled the barrel of the rifle back and forth, looking for any sign of where the terrorist had fled, finally settling on the left. The moment her hand touched the doorknob, gunfire burst through the wood, and two bullets collided with her Kevlar, driving her onto her back.

Cooper sucked air, trying to catch her breath from the jackhammer like impact of the two dime-sized bullets lodged in her chest. She clawed for the rifle that had fallen to her side when the terrorist burst out of the room, wielding a knife high above his head.

The terrorist flung himself at Cooper, but she managed to block the blade just inches from her cheek. Cooper jammed her knee into the terrorist’s stomach, knocking him to his side while she ripped the knife from his grip, and held the edge of the blade to the flesh of his neck as she rolled on top of him.