The Last Peak (Book 2): The Darwin Collapse (40 page)

MASON
grabbed Anton by the collar. He had every intention of killing the sorry son of a bitch, but he didn’t want to waste an advantage if the approaching chopper improved the situation from a last stand at the Alamo to a Mexican standoff.

While he knew he could count on Miro, two pistols against a team of six or more operators carrying battle rifles barely qualified as a standoff. Maybe it was just a different version of the Alamo.

The only advantage he had was the forty-five pointed at their boss’s chest. Maybe he could negotiate terms.

It wasn’t a great plan, but the chopper was closing in fast and Mason couldn’t think of any better ideas.

“Miro, guard them!” he shouted. “Everyone else, stay down!”

“Copy that, Sarge!” Miro said as he took up a position near the others.

Mason shoved Anton forward, purposefully yanking him around to keep him stumbling and off-balance. He climbed up the ladder to the helipad, pulling Anton up after him. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

Anton smiled at the approaching chopper. “Put down your weapon and I won’t have my men kill you and your family.”

Mason slammed a clenched fist into his solar plexus. Anton dropped to his knees gasping for breath.

“Threaten my family again and you’ll die first.” He yanked Anton to his feet and wrapped an arm under his neck and pulled tight. He didn’t have proper body armor, but this would do.

The chopper pulled in fast and flared hard to touch down soft as a feather on the helipad. Eight men in desert camo with United States flag patches on their chests filed out of the cabin and set up firing positions. The center of their perimeter had their HK 416 rifles zeroed on Mason and Anton. One of the soldiers turned and waved at the chopper. His right shoulder had an army green arrow-shaped patch with a black dagger on it.

These weren’t like the others. These were Army guys. Specifically 1
st
Special Forces Operational Detachment - Delta. These were some serious motherfuckers. Way beyond Anton’s pay grade.

Two more soldiers jumped out of the cabin. They helped a tall, lanky man in an immaculate dark blue suit step out onto the helipad. He wore thin-framed fashionable glasses of a matching color. His bald head would’ve given him away if Mason hadn’t already recognized him. He strode toward Mason as if he owned the world.

Which made sense because he mostly did.
 

Gabriel Cruz. The world’s wealthiest man. The same man Mason had inadvertently saved from that mad dog gang leader.

He came to a stop ten feet away from Mason. The Delta operators stayed between the two parties with their rifles never wavering from their chosen targets. Mason had no doubt that if he turned the gun from Anton to Gabriel, his head would end up like a watermelon at a Gallagher comedy show. Only he sure as hell wouldn’t be laughing.

“Mr. West,” Gabriel said. “Let’s dispense with the theatrics. We are both reasonable men.” He took another few steps forward with his hands raised.

“Mr. President, please maintain a safe distance,” the operator standing next to him said.

Mr. President?

Gabriel waved him off. “I have nothing to fear from this man. He saved my life less than two weeks ago.”

“All the same, sir, I’d appreciate your cooperation.”

“Captain Whitaker, you will do your job and I will do mine. Am I clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

Anton reached for his boss. “Thank you for coming for me! This madman wants to kill me!”

Gabriel’s good humor melted away until only ice remained. “Then he and I are in agreement. You betrayed me. You overstepped your limited authority.”

“I did what needed to be done,” Anton replied. The imperious weight in his voice cracked mid-sentence. It rose in pitch and wavered. “Surely you of all people must see that.”

“I see that you are unhinged, and that my trust in you was a grievous error in judgement. I will not repeat the mistake.”

Gabriel looked at Mason. “Would you mind placing your weapon on the ground? You don’t require the leverage and there would be none even if you did. Besides, I think these fellows would feel much better about it.”

Mason didn’t see the advantage in not complying. It sounded like Gabriel could offer them help. He lowered the pistol, making sure the muzzle didn’t cover anywhere near Gabriel’s direction. He released his neck lock on Anton who gasped and sputtered to get more air into his lungs.

“I’ve come for the serum, Anton. Where is it?” Gabriel said.

“My wife has it,” Mason said. “We have people on the deck below, but we have a big problem.”

“What is that?”
 

“Deltas are about to break through the door below and out onto the roof.”

“How many?” Gabriel said.

Mason glanced at the soldiers flanking the president. “More than your firepower can handle.”

Captain Whitaker narrowed his eyes at Mason. “Sir, we can handle it.”

“Captain, I’m not doubting you or your men. But this isn’t the safest position for the president to be in.”

Mason knew as well as any soldier the drive to take it to the enemy. But he also knew the cost of losing men in the effort. And there was zero chance Captain Whitaker would put the president in danger no matter his personal feelings.

Gabriel turned to his detail’s CO. “Captain, get those people aboard.”

“Yes, sir!”

Before the captain could get his men in motion, gunfire erupted on the deck below.

Mason ran to the edge of the helipad and saw the nightmare unfolding below. Deltas dashed through the opened roof access door.

BANG. BANG.

“Get to the ladder,” Miro shouted as he dropped one. He covered the rear of the group as everyone hurried to the ladder. Several deltas followed close behind.
 

Miro dropped another. Mason fired from above, knocking down a couple about to overwhelm his friend.

Still more bodies surged out onto the roof. There were too many, and there was no place to retreat from the top of a skyscraper.

Captain Whitaker and several operators appeared at Mason’s side as the deltas below encircled the group trying to get up the ladder. Beth struggled to help Theresa up. An operator slid down the ladder and hefted Theresa over his shoulder. He headed back up and Beth followed.

“Fire for effect,” the captain shouted above the thumping chopper and the screaming chaos.

Mason’s ears rang with the concussion of numerous rifles letting loose a withering barrage on the deltas below. He ran to the ladder as the operator carrying Theresa appeared on the top rung. The soldier heaved her over, knocking Mason’s forty-five out of his hands. The pistol clattered to the concrete.

Mason ignored it and helped his daughter onto the helipad. He passed her off to a waiting soldier and then pulled Beth up with Clyde around her neck. He helped Noor next and then extended a hand to Maria as she made it to the top. She snarled and climbed over without his help. Elio arrived next while Miro covered their six with the help of the operators above.

The numbers coming through the door started to overwhelm the suppressive fire. A surge of bodies pushed through the steel rain. Miro jumped up the ladder as a delta leaped on his back. The two fell backwards and Miro ended up pinned underneath. The delta landed on Miro’s back, straddling his waist.

Mason looked to where he thought Miro’s forty-five had fallen to the ground.
 

It wasn’t there. Where the hell was it?

There wasn’t time. He turned back and jumped off the helipad.
 

His foot caught the delta in the back of the neck. A satisfying crunch and it pitched to the side in a heap. Mason landed wrong and his ankle torqued to the side. Pain jolted up his right leg.

Miro pulled him up. “Shit, Sarge! You’re a regular Sam Houston!”

A couple of deltas reached for them and collapsed as a fountain of blood exploded from their foreheads.
 

Mason glanced up and saw Captain Whitaker zero on the next closest delta and dispatch it in like manner. Still more came. “Get up the ladder, Corporal!”

“Roger that!” Miro said as he scrambled up the rungs.

Mason followed close behind. He made it up and then jerked to a stop as the situation resolved to clarity. All of the operators stood at the edge of the helipad firing down on the deltas as they darted out onto the roof below. As many as they knocked down, more followed. They would not be held off forever.
 

But that wasn’t the worst part.

The worst part was that he’d found Miro’s forty-five.

Anton stood ten feet away with his back to Mason. He held the missing forty-five in his hands with the muzzle touching the president’s chest. He whipped the pistol across Gabriel’s face knocking his glasses off. A red gash lined his cheek. Anton yelled something that was lost in the din.

His weapon.

About to be used to assassinate the President of the United States.

No.

Not going to happen.

Not in a million years.

A delta appeared at the top of the ladder. The soldiers shifted to incorporate the expanded field of fire, but they still hadn’t seen what was happening behind them.

The first delta got a double tap to the forehead and it pitched backward.

Captain Whitaker and his men had their hands full slowing the advance, never mind stopping it.

Mason glanced at Beth and she shook her head. Of course, she knew what he would do next. He didn’t waste time responding. Instead, he hobbled toward Anton hoping like hell the bastard didn’t turn around before he got there. Anton raised the pistol to Gabriel’s head just as Mason dove forward.
 

BANG.

The pistol fired as Mason steamrolled into Anton’s ribcage. They crashed to the ground and Mason made sure his full weight came down on top of the dirtbag.

Anton landed with a grunt and the pistol clattered away. He clawed at his chest and sucked at air that wouldn’t flow through a spasming diaphragm.

Mason rolled off and recovered the forty-five in one smooth maneuver. He finished the roll and came out with one knee down and a foot planted. The front sight raised to find Anton.

Only the planted foot taking his weight was the one with the busted ankle. He nearly pitched over before dropping that knee to the ground to arrest the fall.
 

The threat was neutralized, but the damage was done. A single bullet that he could never get back. He looked over his shoulder dreading to verify what it had done. Preparing to accept responsibility for the assassination.

Gabriel stood like a stone, clutching his chest.

Mason stood and limped over. “Are you okay, Mr. President?”

He didn’t respond.

Mason brushed Gabriel’s hand away and patted over shirt. There was no hole. No blood. A miss.

Gabriel looked himself over.

Captain Whitaker appeared beside them. “Time to go, sir. Now!”
 

Gabriel nodded.

Captain Whitaker yelled the order and two of his men ushered the others aboard the chopper. Two other soldiers retreated from the edge of the helipad and took up defensive positions near the bird.
 

Miro scooped Iridia up and carried her to the chopper. She stared in shock at her fallen father before disappearing into the chopper’s interior.

A roar from below momentarily rose above the thump of the rotors. The deltas must’ve realized the change in momentum. One appeared at the top of the ladder. It didn’t get higher before a bullet punctured its head and sent it reeling backward.

Gabriel knelt beside Anton and dug a hand into his left pocket. He withdrew what looked like a small silver coin. He held the coin in front of Anton’s twisted face. “I saved your life in the alley that day. I lifted you out of the gutter and gave you a future.”

Anton pushed himself up on his elbows.
 

Gabriel curled a fist around the coin. “And you betrayed me. Unwavering loyalty. That was the only rule that can not be forgiven.”

Anton snarled and spat blood onto the ground. “I saved mankind! I did what you and all the other spineless cowards could not. You should be on your knees thanking me!”

Gabriel flicked a straight right and caught Anton on the chin. His head snapped back and he collapsed on his back. “Anton Reshenko, I sentence you to death for high crimes against humanity.”

Anton’s eyes opened wide with fear. He reached up as a submissive animal does to an alpha.
 

Gabriel slapped his hand away. “Goodbye.” He turned away and allowed Captain Whitaker to help him back to the chopper.
 

Mason followed them inside.
 

“Sit here,” Gabriel said pointing to the seat next to him.

Mason nodded and took the offered seat.
 

The chopper’s engine spun up and the thump of long blades slicing through the air picked up.

The four operators holding the defensive perimeter retreated into the cabin while continuously firing at the advancing deltas.

Anton struggled to his feet and stumbled toward the chopper.

While several deltas advanced on the chopper, one broke off toward Anton.

An old man. His lower lip dangled from his chin. His thin limbs moved with unexpected energy.

“Don’t leave me!” Anton shouted.

Captain Whitaker tapped the pilot’s shoulder and pointed his finger up and twirled it.

The chopper groaned and lurched off the roof.
 

Anton wrapped an arm over a landing skid and held on as the chopper lifted higher.

The old delta reached him and grabbed hold of his waist.

Anton glanced down at the delta in terror. “No, Charles! No!”

The elderly delta bit into the bulge of belly spilling out of Anton’s shirt.

Anton screamed and lost his grip. He crashed down to the helipad. The delta crawled up his body and bit down on his face.

The surrounding deltas converged on the struggling pair. Anton disappeared beneath a wall of flailing flesh.