Retribution (SSU Trilogy Book 3) (The Surgical Strike Unit) (37 page)

Rafe signaled one of his men. The man took the two cases and headed toward the team’s motorbikes. One of the guards assigned to protect the lab passed by, moving away a little bit when he neared them so as to give them privacy.

Gabby picked up the final case, then just stared at it. So much was riding on luck. What would she do if Rafe didn’t come back?

The team from Kerberos—a mix of Kaufmann’s enhanced soldiers and normal men—had been on the island for several days. They’d already started wreaking havoc, if news reports of strange attacks on the outlying villages were to be believed.

But now Kerberos’s men were gathering at a place deeper in these hills. Ryker’s source, a man called Mark Tonelli, said this was when the men would get their vials of Agent Styx and head to their targets.

Rafe and Niko’s teams would attack before the men separated, then contain the area. Each SSU agent would carry either the antidote to Agent Styx or the tranquilizer needed to subdue Kaufmann’s men. The tranquilizer would be delivered via dart gun. The antidote could be given via injection to someone who’d already been exposed to the chemical. Dumping the antidote into contaminated water would neutralize it. Those vials had a special quick-release cap that could be opened with one gloved hand.

“Remember,” she warned, “you have to use the antidote within two hours, otherwise it’s useless. And you have to use the special masks and gloves.”

He nodded.

As she passed the case to Rafe, his fingers closed over hers. Startled, she looked up and saw heat flare in Rafe’s eyes.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” he murmured. “Inside and out. I’ve missed you so much.”

Then he shocked her by planting a brief, hard kiss on her lips. “Stay safe for me,” he growled. “Keep alert and do exactly what the guards tell you. I’ll be back soon.”

He gave her one more kiss, turned and disappeared into the jungle.

Leaving Gabby staring after him, her heart soaring and a prayer on her lips.

Three Hours Later

The White House

Washington, D.C.

I
t wasn’t every day the country needed to be saved from the whims of a crazed President.

Ryker followed the President’s aide through the lower corridors of the White House toward the entertainment room. He ground his teeth together. President MacAdam had ordered the deaths of thousands of innocent people and he was going to watch the live video feed from his lavish entertainment room as if it was a Hollywood movie.

The Chief Justice of the Supreme Court walked slightly ahead of Ryker, just behind the aide and next to the Vice President. The White House legal counsel walked beside the Secretary of State. Jordaine, Brown, Wehring and Remington were acting as representatives of their various agencies—FBI, CIA, DOD and the House Judiciary Committee.

No one stopped the grim group as it walked through the halls. True to his word, the aide had made certain all the Secret Service agents on duty tonight were aware of the situation and would not interfere.

The radio on Ryker’s belt vibrated. “The room is secure, sir,” the Marine on the other end announced.

“Good,” Ryker said. “We’re just coming around the corner.”

As the group turned into the hallway, the guards opened the double doors into the entertainment room.

“Close the door!” the President snapped. “I told you, I’m not to be disturbed.”

The group filed silently into the room and the guards shut the doors behind them.

The President shot an annoyed glance at his aide. “It’s the fifth anniversary of my son’s death and I’m finally going to get revenge. Leave me alone.”

The full-size movie screen was broken into twelve squares around the perimeter, each showing a village on Salaqut. In the center was a view of an encampment in the middle of the jungle. Men stood in line in front of a truck waiting to receive small packages.

Agent Styx.

The White House legal counsel cleared his throat. “Your revenge is why we’re here, Mr. President. We can’t allow you to do this.”

The president laughed with crazed jubilation. “Too late.” He nodded toward the men on the screen who had started dispersing. “They’re on their way.”

Ryker watched the countdown clock in the lower right hand corner. At precisely the correct time, the screen went black.

Rafe was right on schedule.

Salaqut

R
afe checked his watch. Twenty minutes until Ryker confronted the President. He confirmed that his men were in place, then signaled them to move toward the clearing in the middle of this dense section of jungle. In the distance he heard the welcome sound of an aircraft. Tourist planes weren’t common on this part of the island, but scientists occasionally used old crop dusters in their atmospheric studies, so the plane wouldn’t raise suspicion until it was too late.

As his team approached Kerberos’s meeting place, Rafe confirmed that Niko’s team was similarly slipping into position.

“Bro, looks like Tonelli told the truth,” Niko said in Greek over their comm line. “I count two dozen of Kerberos’s men, with more arriving.”

“Son of a bitch.” Rafe pulled up to the clearing. Straight ahead, men formed a line in front of a truck very similar to Gabby’s mobile lab. The men wearing Kaufmann’s signature black uniform with colored stripes outnumbered the normal Kerberos agents. If any of Kaufmann’s men broke through their mind control and let loose the rage Rafe knew they were feeling, the normal agents didn’t stand a chance of reining them in.

A man stepped out of the lab section of the truck holding a Styrofoam cooler. Overhead, the noise from the plane’s engine increased. Rafe pushed a button on his phone, signaling the team back in the States to start jamming the President’s satellite link.

On Rafe’s mark, his team donned their gas masks and protective gloves, then dropped to their bellies as the crop duster unleashed its special cargo directly onto the clearing.

The nerve agent acted immediately, knocking every unprotected man in the area unconscious. Rafe and his team quickly stood up and began searching for anyone left awake. The airplane circled around and dropped a load of dissipator, and within ten minutes the sensor on Rafe’s gas mask beeped to let him know the air was safe to breathe again.

Rafe finished securing the hands of the man at his feet, then removed his gas mask and gloves. Across the clearing, Niko gave him the thumbs up to indicate all the hostiles on his side were out of action as well.

Rafe crossed over to the truck and did a thorough search. Once he’d determined that none of the vials of Agent Styx had been compromised and that the lab was empty, he locked it down.

Taking his satellite phone out of its holster, he dialed Ryker. “Mission successful, sir,” Rafe announced. “The area is sec—”

“Rafe!” Andersen hurried over, waving frantically.

Everything inside of Rafe tensed at the man’s stricken expression. “The team at the mobile lab reports an attack by two of Kaufmann’s men. They think the men got lost and mistook our site for their meeting place. They’re trying to break into the lab.”

“Sir, we have a situation at one of our mobile labs,” Rafe curtly informed Ryker. “I have to go.”

Rafe shoved his phone back in the holster. “Which lab?”

“Dr. Montague’s, sir.”

No!

Rafe motioned for six of his men to join him, then quickly relayed the news to Niko.

“Go,” Niko said. “We’ve got this covered.”

Dammit, Rafe thought as he turned away, they were half an hour away from the lab. Too long for him to be of any help to Gabby.

“What else?” Rafe barked to Andersen as they broke into a run toward the motorcycles.

“The men have taken down four of our guards and are pounding on the mobile lab, trying to break down the door,” Andersen said. “Lewellyn is inside the lab’s security room and he doesn’t know how to stop them. The attackers are wearing hooded uniforms that repel the darts and bullets can’t fully penetrate the material, either.”

Rafe spared a glance at one of Kaufmann’s unconscious men. Sure enough, this close he could see the bulk of a rolled-up hood at the collar. He stopped and knelt down so he could feel the material.

Fuck. It was some sort of super flexible armor.

He surged back to his feet and sprinted toward his motorbike.

“Where’s Gabby?”

“Dr. Montague is trapped in the lab’s interior. She was working on another batch of antidote when the attack began.”

Rafe leapt onto his bike and kicked it into life. He didn’t know what terrified him more. The idea that Kaufmann’s men might break into the lab and hurt Gabby, or that by pounding on the lab they might cause Gabby to spill some of the deadly chemicals on her and somehow she’d be killed despite her hazmat suit.

Rafe sent a prayer up in every language he knew and turned his bike toward the lab.

G
abby concentrated on holding her hand steady as she poured one of the less toxic ingredients of the antidote into the measuring container. After this step, she’d have to head into the hazardous material room and don a full protective suit to finish mixing the antidote. But for now—

A man yelled and something large slammed into the observation window. Gabby’s hand jerked and the chemical spilled onto the counter. She instinctively jumped back so none of it would get on her, even though the safety equipment she wore—goggles, mask, apron and elbow-length gloves—would protect her.

Gabby gasped as the entire lab shook and braced herself against the counter. A second later, Lewellyn’s body hit the splintered glass of the observation window. The reinforcing wire inside the glass bent, cutting into the guard’s back as some incredible force shoved him forward. Then, with a loud crack, the wire broke and Lewellyn fell through onto the floor of the lab.

Alarms sounded and warning lights flashed.

Gabby tore off her mask and goggles and raced to his side. Oh, God. Blood seeped from under his back.

“Don’t move,” she ordered, coming to her knees beside him, thankful for the thick apron shielding her knees from the broken shards of glass. “Let me see how badly you’re hurt.”

“No,” he gasped. “Run!”

“What? Why?”

“White coat,” a voice bellowed from the other side of the shattered window.

“Kill,” shouted another voice.

She didn’t recognize the voices, but she recognized Rafe’s term for Kaufmann’s doctors and heard the familiar rage and madness behind the words. A glance at the ruined window showed two men wearing Kaufmann’s black uniform with red stripes. But these men weren’t acting like highly controlled, rational subjects of Level 1. Instead, their eyes were wild with fury. Spotting Gabby, one of the men bellowed, then leapt into the room through the window, easily clearing the high pane.

Gabby screamed and tried to scramble back, but the heavy apron weighed her down. She yanked off her gloves and fumbled for the safety catches at her neck and waist.
Come on. Come on!

There!
The catches released. She shoved the apron toward the man heading for her and stumbled to her feet, searching for escape. Oh, God, she was trapped. There was only the one entrance to the left of the observation window, and the second man now stood between her and the door.

Knowing she had to do something, Gabby turned and ran toward the hazardous material room.

She wasn’t fast enough. The first man grabbed her by the neck, lifted her off the ground, and with an incoherent yell, threw her across the room.

Gabby crashed onto the counter, knocking over beakers and test tubes as she slid along its surface until her head hit the wall. Dazed, she put her hands down to prop herself up and felt the sharp edge of broken glass cut into her wet palm.

She had only a moment to panic about which of the hazardous chemicals she’d touched when the man grabbed her feet, swung her around, and slammed her head first into the corner of the supply cabinet.

The world went dark.

Chapter 32

M
ark Tonelli had ambushed Faith’s brother Toby ten minutes ago and tried to break through the man’s mind control by playing a voice recording of his sister. Instead, a woman’s scream had sent Toby racing through the jungle, with Mark struggling to keep up with the man’s enhanced speed.

Mark followed Toby into a clearing and pulled up short at what he saw. Shit. The bodies of four guards lay scattered around a truck that must be one of the SSU’s mobile labs. Two of the men had broken necks. One had multiple stab wounds and a slit throat. The other man looked as if he’d been beaten repeatedly with a blunt object about the head and chest. Despite the damage he’d suffered, he was trying to pull himself toward the truck.

Mark threw a quick glance to where Toby had disappeared through the twisted door to the lab, then hurried over to the man. “What happened?”

“Kaufmann’s men…two…caught us by…surprise…wear…ing…protective suits…tranq darts…bullets…bounce off…” His eyes turned toward Mark, pleading. “Help…Dr…Mon…tague…” He coughed violently, then collapsed.

Mark bolted toward the lab. If the men killed Dr. Montague, then who would return Toby to normal? How would he explain to Faith that he’d failed her?

Mark jumped over the mangled ruin of the door and into an antechamber that must have been the security command center. Broken monitors littered the floor. A chair stuck out of the far wall. All that remained of the observation window were jagged pieces of glass and fragments of wire.

Beyond that, a growing pool of blood seeped out from under the body of another guard. Dr. Montague lay in a boneless heap at the foot of a supply cabinet. One of Kaufmann’s men kicked Dr. Montague repeatedly in the face and torso while a second man smashed beakers and shoved everything from the countertops onto the floor.

The man attacking Dr. Montague threw back his head, yelled in primal fury, and pulled a knife from his belt.

With an answering bellow, Toby charged the man. The pair went down in a tangle of flying fists.

The other attacker was too busy trying to pry a cabinet off the wall to notice the fight. But Mark knew it would only be a matter of time.