“Stop! Stop!” The man screamed, still struggling, but Guffrey had none of it and wasn’t going to take any either.
“Jesus! Lieutenant!”
Again the SAS man paused, looking up from the man he was pealing out of the protective gear, “Get the fuck out of here, Corporal! And take those people with you!”
The young man stared at him for a moment.
“That’s a fucking order, trooper!”
That shook the man clear and he and the remaining SAS soldier began yelling for people to move back while Guffrey got on with it.
“Stop! You’re killing me!”
“You think I give a shit” He growled in response, tearing the rest of the suit away from the struggling man, “You helped bake up this shit, if you don’t have a cure that’s not my problem.”
“Cure! It’s not the disease! It’s the radiation!”
“Yeah,” Guffrey said grimly, snapping a boot to the man’s face as he yanked the suit over his shoulders and flipped the visor up over his head, “That’s about what I figured.”
He left the unconscious man where he lay, hastily sealing up the suit even as he noted the progress of the gas had already passed his position. He didn’t feel any different, but that was a worry for a later time. Guffrey strode toward the tank that held the drifting death, finishing the last seal as he did, and began vigorously twisting the knob to the right.
“Amir!”
Abdallah Amir spun around as one of the young men he had with him shouted his name, teeth clenching in a grimace at the tone. “What!”
“Reports of gunfire from the hostage areas! We’re under attack!”
“Jacob!” Amir shouted, turning to the big man who was his right hand, “What of the team we sent out!”
“No response from them, Amir,” The big man growled, his face tight with worry now.
“Surge damage!” Amir said, disgusted. “Send warriors to their last position!”
“The tower, yes Amir.” Jacob replied, grabbing for a radio.
The terrorist leader planted his hands on his desk and glared at the young man who had delivered the bad news, “Security!”
“W.what”
“Put the secuty cameras on the screen.” Abdallah growled, waving at the banks of images currently showing the exterior of the tower where, up until now, he had believed the military presence to be contained.
“Y.yes Amir.”
In moments the areas where the hostages were being held were shown, and scenes of utter chaos filled each screen. People were running as men in military clothing waded through the masses, firing occasional shots at Abdallah’s own men.
“Send people to help eliminate those men,” He said grimly, “Then have them round up the hostages and.”
“Hold it, Abdallah,” A new voice said grimly, “You’re under arrest.”
The few men left in the control room turned to see a blond man leveling a large shotgun in their direction.
“Move it you pigs!”
The call sounded oddly flat in the open acoustics of the glassed in section through which they ran, the PVC water `cells’ radiating head all around them so that the cool air they were running into turned everything slick with condensed moisture.
The call had just come from Director Jacob himself to proceed immediately to the central tower and find out what had happened to the tech team he had sent there earlier, and that was what they were about. The twenty man group were armed with the best Chinese weapons money could buy, Norinco assault rifles and carbines in bullpup configuration, and they were expecting trouble.
The cold air and wet floors had actually been a major tip off that something was wrong, but the sudden rise of a drifting fog sure as hell wasn’t right so the leader called for them to slow down as they approached the entrance to the central tower.
“Lord above,” Someone whispered, touching a pendant to his lips. “It is raining in the tower.”
The leader of this particular group frowned. He’d been on site, masquerading as a janitor, for over two years now and he’d never heard of the like. Water condensed from the air was reclaimed along the side of the tower, it certainly didn’t `fall’ in a deluge like he was seeing here. No, something else was at work here.
“Advance slowly,” He finally decided, “report anything you see.”
The nodded and slowly began to move forward, weapons now leveled ahead of them as they readied themselves for violence. The gaping maw of the entrance to the central tower room was dark, any sounds from inside completely covered by the rushing sound of water, so as they closed on it the tension in the men began to mount.
At a signal from the leader they split into two groups, moving around and taking temporary cover alongside the reinforced concrete archway that marked the entrance, pausing a moment to stare into the darkened interior.
“I don’t see anything, Ryan.”
The leader nodded, “I don’t like it.”
“What is there to like”
The question brought a slight smile to his face and Ryan Emmerson nodded, “You have a point. Alright, we’re going in. Take care, don’t group too closely together.remember, the military prays to their evil gods for enemies that stand together in large groups.”
Anselm Gunnar noted each of them men in the room as he kept the shotgun leveled on them, buzzing the electronic security lock shut behind him.
“Abdallah Amir, Jacob Harrow Kalindon.Consider yourselves served with arrest warrants,” He told them, his eyes briefly falling on the three other men in the same room. “As for the rest of you, I’m sure I can dig something up to make you feel at home.”
“The swede.” Abdallah muttered, a touch of humor on his lips.
“What are you going to do, Agent Gunnar” Jacob asked, his tone smooth as his cultured accent. “There are five of us.rather difficult to restrain us all.”
“Not really,” Anselm responded, “If anyone gives me trouble, I can just shoot them.”
The younger men exchanged worried looks, but the two primary targets just smiled thinly.
“Now, now, Agent, that would be violating our rights.”
“You’re terrorists, you don’t have any.” Anselm responded flatly, “According to the Munich Act of 2012, you do NOT have the right to remain silent. You do not have the right to an attorney. And you do not have the right to a phone call, so I’d put that radio down now if I were you, Jacob. Before I make you put it down.”
Kalindon slowly set the transceiver and lifted his hand from it as the shotgun swung over in his direction, and Anselm nodded with a smile. “Very nice.”
The Interpol agent produced a series of strips from his belt and nodded to one of the young men sitting behind a terminal, “You!”
The man pointed to himself, a fearfully questioning look on his face.
“Yes You,” Anselm scowled, “get up.”
The man looked fearfully around, finally resting on Amir. The American born terrorist nodded, and the man slowly climbed to his feet.
“Take these,” Anselm tossed the strips to him, “And put them on the others.”
The man looked down, goggling at the restraint strips in his hands, then around at the others.
“Hurry it up, we don’t have all day,” Anselm smiled thinly at Jacob and Abdallah. “I know at least eight countries that have cells held open just for one of you two. Should be fun to see who gets you first.”
With only a little more prodding the man pulled a strip from the bundle and looked around, as if trying to decide where to start.
“Jacob first.” Anselm ordered.
The technician, helplessly caught in the middle looked over at Jacob Kalindon, his expression like that of a deer caught in the light of an onrushing train, but the big man just smirked and nodded.