The Kasparov Agenda (Omega Ops Legion Book 1) (9 page)

“Gregory Pike, was it?” Laura called out. Pike looked her way. She was holding up a police radio. “SWAT’s here; building is surrounded. Now would be a good time to consider giving up.”

Pike laughed. “Not before I’ve had a chance to say
hello
to them.” Pike picked up two wooden skids, one in each hand, and hurled them like Frisbees.

“Watch out!” Roy yelled. Santos and the three officers scattered as the skids flew past them and crashed to the floor. Pike ran towards the big rig parked by the garage entrance of the warehouse.

“Get back here, coward!” Varick attempted to chase after him, but it was no good. The pain in his side was too much. He stopped running and fell to one knee.

Santos and the officers rushed over to assist Varick. Laura and Santos hoisted Varick to his feet.

“I don’t—need your help,” Varick muttered. “Go get him.”

Pike got into the truck and pulled out a remote opener from the glove box. He started the engine and pushed the button. The garage door slowly rumbled open and the warehouse was bathed in sunlight. Pike squinted through the glare; several squad cars and two SWAT vans had formed a perimeter around the warehouse.

Roy glanced at Henry. “Eighteen wheels...make every shot count.” Pike’s truck slowly rolled out of the warehouse as Roy and Henry fired upon the truck’s tires. They managed to puncture several, but it was not enough to stop the truck l
eaving the warehouse. Pike
had escaped the frying pan and was now plunging into the fire.
Every
officer outside had their guns trained on the truck
. Pike shielded his face with his gauntlet and pre
ssed forward, driving headlong into a storm of bullets. The windshield was already completely gone. Gaining momentum, the big rig bowled over a swat van, and the officers scattered to avoid being run over.

“Don’t let him get onto the main road; take him down
now
!” Henry yelled, as he came running out of the warehouse with Roy. Officers and SWAT sprayed the truck with gunfire while it pulled away from the
warehouse
—there was no stopping it
. They scrambled to their vehicles to continue pursuit. Henry and Roy sprinted down the road to where they had parked to join in the chase.

Santos and Laura walked out of the warehouse holding on to an injured Varick. Varick brushed both of them off. “I can walk. My car’s down the road, come on.” Holding his side in agony, Varick led the way.

Pike looked in his rear-view mirror: the cops were tailing him, not far behind. He could feel his truck losing steam—he was practically riding on the rims. He wouldn’t be able to escape. Not with the cargo, at least. Before Varick and the others had arrived, Pike had loaded all of Solly’s weapons from the warehouse into the back of the truck. And now he was going to lose it all...
but he wasn’t planning to go down with the ship
. In case of an emergency, Pike had placed one item from the stolen inventory on the passenger seat: A Colt M4A1 assault rifle, complete with an M203 grenade launcher attachment. He had modified the trigger frame so that his beefy fingers could actually fire the gun.

Pike was fast approaching the main road, and there was quite a lot of traffic...
and then he spotted it.
A tanker truck
. Pike laughed to himself.
This is too perfect. You want it, pigs? Well, here it comes...
Pike cut into the traffic, his foot crushing the accelerator. The tanker truck blared its horn as Pike’s big rig bowled over car after car, heading straight at it. Pike grabbed the assault rifle and ditched, the moment before his big rig T-boned the tanker truck with a thunderous crash. Pike rolled onto the road and only stopped when his body smashed into the side of a hatchback. Faring better than the hatchback, Pike got back on his feet with his weapon at the ready. The cop cars screeched to a halt and watched in horror as Pike unloaded his
assault rifle into the tanker. Gasoline began to spill out into the
streets. Henry rolled down his window and yelled into his police megaphone: “Everybody, evacuate now!” The civilians didn’t need to be told twice; they were all fleeing in panic and leaving their vehicles in the mess of traffic.
 

“Have fun cleaning this up, pigs!” Pike fired the 40mm grenade at the tanker.
It was total chaos
. The vehicle exploded in a spectacular blaze of fire, which instantaneously spread along the rivers of gas that had spilt into the streets. Cars with the fiery gas lines running underneath them ignited and exploded like firecrackers.

Roy exited his vehicle with his gun drawn. Pike had already fled, and there was too much fire and smoke to get anywhere close to the area. “Damn…” Henry muttered, still in the car. He picked up his police radio: “I need fire trucks and paramedics at my location...”

Laura had arrived on the scene driving Varick’s car and was accompanied by Varick and Santos. From inside the car, she stared out at the carnage in front of her. “My god...”

Santos jumped out of the backseat and ran towards the fiery inferno. “Hey, what are you doing?” Roy demanded, as Santos blew by him. Other officers stared while Santos ran into the smoke and disappeared from view. A few minutes later, he reappeared from the gridlock of cars carrying three injured: a young man and woman in each arm, and their child on his back.

“Wow…nice work,” Roy said, impressed. Laura, Varick, and Henry had joined Roy at the front line.

“Yeah, I looked around…most got away,” Santos replied. “But there
are
a few casualties. These three were lucky.” The parents of the child were unconscious from smoke inhalation but would survive the ordeal. The surrounding officers who witnessed the rescue applauded Santos’ efforts and took the family aside for medical attention.

“Are you alright?” Laura asked in disbelief. She could’ve sworn she saw the fire licking at Santos’ entire body...or maybe it was just a trick of the light, because he wouldn’t be standing here like this if that were the case. “That was incredible.”

“Yeah, I’m okay.” Santos wiped his forehead. “Guess I was lucky too.” Other than a little soot on his face, Santos appeared perfectly fine.

Varick scowled. He looked at Santos and then eyed the fiery wrecks of vehicles that scattered the road. “Well done.”

***

Friday, October 8th, 1999

Manhattan, New York, 2:00 p.m.

Varick and Santos returned home from their morning ordeal. Bruce and Alex were seated at the table eating lunch. Bruce eyed the two of them. “So…how did it go?”

Santos looked at Bruce uncertainly. “Did you hear what happened?”

“Of course I heard what happened. It was all over the news.”

Santos rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, it was pretty bad; quite a scene. We were at the police station for a good while. If it wasn’t for Roy and the other officers, we would still be there being interrogated.”

Varick sneered at Santos. “Yeah, and if it wasn’t for you, the whole situation could have been avoided altogether.”

Santos was affronted. “So, it’s my fault that Pike escaped and blew up that tanker?”

“I had everything under control until you decided to show up and interfere.”

Bruce rested his chin on his hand and watched the squabble, unamused. “Well, it’s good to see that you two are working so well together. Teddy called a little while ago, you know.
Real
mad
about that fiasco. They mentioned in the news reports that Legion members were on the scene when the explosion happened.”

“Did they happen to mention how we were trying to prevent it and saved people trapped in the gridlock?” Santos questioned.

“Nope, they left out those details.”

Varick scoffed. “Typical.”

Varick and Santos joined Bruce and Alex at the table. They took turns serving tuna casserole onto their plates, then proceeded to wolf down their food. Santos put his gorging on pause to watch the other three eating in silence. Not a word was spoken since he and Varick sat down at the table. With tensions running high, Santos decided to shift gears to a less volatile conversation. “So, Alex, how was the soup kitchen?”

Alex looked up from his plate. “In a word? Dull.”

“Really?” Santos swallowed a forkful of the casserole. “And why do you say that?”

Alex shrugged. “Well, to be honest I was expecting, you know—
actual
field work. Seeing how you guys fight and take down criminals.”

Santos smiled. “I’m sure it seems glamourous, but what’s important to remember is that you shouldn’t seek it out—the confrontation. What we do to give back to the community is just as important. Maybe even more important. You shouldn’t resent doing it.”

“I know, don’t get me wrong, I understand its importance. But the way my dad was going on about it this morning, I was expecting some real action. It’s like drinking a glass of milk when you were expecting orange juice.”

Santos stroked his scruffy chin thoughtfully. “I suppose. Well, like your father said, when you’re old enough, you’ll be exposed to all of it.”

Bruce nodded in agreement with his mouth stuffed full of casserole. He washed his food down with a glass of water. “Absolutely. Just  you wait, Alex. When it’s time, you’ll be like David Niven at the Oscars.”

The task demanded a great team effort, but together, the four of them had managed to devour the entire casserole. With their bellies now full, everyone was in better spirits. Varick grunted, holding his side. “Damn, I need to go lie down.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow. “What happened? Eat too much?”

“He broke his ribs,” Santos said, replying on Varick’s behalf.

Alex went wide-eyed. “Isn’t that something you should go see a doctor about?”

“Not really; I’ve broken them enough times to know. Nothing much they can do anyway.”

“What about wrapping?”

“Doesn’t really do anything. If anything, it may cause unnecessary complications. Best thing to do is just wait it out. Time and rest are what I need.”

“Painkillers?”

“I can live without them.”

Alex shrugged. “If that’s what you wanna do…but it sounds pretty bad.”

“You think that’s bad? Check this out.” Varick rolled up the sleeve on his left arm. “I have no idea how my arm didn’t break.” The area above his elbow was severely bruised and glowing a deep purple where Pike had struck him.

Alex feigned a look of fighting back vomit. Bruce grinned. “Wow. That looks...
appalling
.” Santos stared down at his empty plate and said nothing.

***

Scorcher’s office and living quarters were located on the top floor of the Chital Co. Tower. He was seated in his office when his desk intercom began to beep. He switched on the speaker. “What is it?”

“Scorcher, it’s Pike.”

“What the hell happened to you; where are you?”

“Still in Queens. I’m hiding out at Esther’s bar for the time being.”

Scorcher puzzled over this information for a moment. “Where are the weapons?”

There was a pause. “I’ve got some good news and some bad news. Good news is I took out Solly’s guy Wyler and loaded the weapons into the truck.”

“And where’s the truck?”

“That’s the bad news… It sort of—
blew up
. If anything was salvageable, the cops have it now.”

Scorcher rubbed his disfigured face. “That tanker explosion on the news...your truck was caught in that? My weapons?!” Scorcher growled. “How is this good news and bad news? Your bad news negates the good news.
It’s all bad news
.”

“Yeah, it was Varick and some other clowns that held me up. At least with those weapons gone, there’s that many fewer that Solly has to use against us.”

“Goddamn.” Scorcher rapped his knuckles on the desk, thinking hard. “We need to re-strategize. Stay at the bar until nightfall. Get Esther to loan you a vehicle, and come back to Manhattan once it’s dark.”

“Sure thing, boss.”

***

Queens, New York, 8:00 p.m.

Oswalt Fletcher was watching television by himself, slouching deep in his worn-out couch. He cracked open a beer, which proved surprisingly difficult with his right arm in a sling. He took a long swig. Breathing deeply, Oswalt looked around his small apartment—
what a way to spend a Friday night
. Captain Morring had given him time off—standard procedure with officer-involved shootings. But frankly, he didn’t have much to do. He liked keeping busy with his job, and with his career now off the table, he found himself idling. Oswalt was on his second lap of channel surfing, but nothing grabbed his attention.
Just a bunch of crap
. He put the remote down and walked over to the window with his beer. He had a nice view of the city; he was on the nineteenth floor. Oswalt always found himself curious about all the lights. So many people down there, each with their own story. How many people were wasting their lives away like he was doing at this very moment? How many of them were breaking the law while he was out of commission... The ringing of his telephone startled Oswalt out of his thoughts. He wasn’t expecting any calls. He picked up the phone from the corner table by his couch:
 

“Hello?”

“Am I speaking to Officer Fletcher?”

“Yeah, who is this?”

“This is Jack Solly.”

Oswalt was taken aback. “The business magnate?”

Solly chuckled. “I guess you can call me that. It has come to my attention that you’ve performed a great service for me. You saved the life of one of my trusted employees.”

“Err...yeah, well, I was just doing my job. Me and my partner.”

“Yes, but I am interested in you, not your partner. You had instincts—killer instincts in the heat of danger. To do what was necessary to survive.”

“Mr. Perkins told you this?”

“Yes—he gave me whatever details he could from his vantage point.”