The Omega Sanction - Andrew Scorah (best way to read ebooks txt) 📗
- Author: Andrew Scorah
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“Of course there is a lot more to it than that, but we do not have the time. Will it hurt? I honestly don’t know, but you brave soldiers of the Fourth Reich are about to find out. May whatever god you pray to be with you.”
Hoffman began to operate the controls.
A metal shield slid up from the floor. The device and the men underneath were concealed from view. The smell of a summer thunderstorm filled the room. The sound of crackling, like bacon violently sizzling on a skillet came from beyond the wall. A deep throbbing hum that was felt rather than heard.
CHAPTER THREE
Chapter 18
Charlotte Webb stepped out of her apartment block elevator into the dimly lit underground parking garage. She was still upset at finding out her boss had swallowed the barrel of his gun. Even though she was only a junior analyst he had treated her with respect, which is why she could not understand why her report on Geheime Staat had not been actioned on.
The threat they posed had been substantial. Webb thought that she had made that obvious in her report. Now Staat had done something huge. What though, she could not ascertain. But it must be something bad to lead her boss to take his own life.
She looked about the garage. Finding it unusually quiet for this time of day. Webb shrugged and walked down the central aisle leading to where she had parked her car that morning. The only sound was her heels clicking on the concrete.
She had arrived home an hour earlier, and managed to have a shower when the phone had rung. The caller had said he was the duty officer at the Pentagon and could she return to work to brief the new head of department George Hartz on her report. Somehow the report she had given to Robert Morgan had vanished so could she bring any copies she had made.
Annoyed after such a heavy day she stuffed the flash drive with all her work on it into her Gucci handbag, and headed out.
As she approached the area where her car was parked, she realised something was wrong. For one, all the lights above her car and the ones surrounding it were out. And for two, what ever time she came into the garage, Martin the gate security man if he was on duty would greet her over the internal address system. Today he was on-duty, but no greeting was forthcoming.
She paused. Tried to look into the deeper darkness before her. Cursing her foolishness, she shrugged and continued on her way. She felt stupid, putting her anxiety down to tiredness and the death of her boss. For comfort, she put her hand into her jacket pocket closing her fingers on the short stick attached to her keys, a Kubotan, a defensive weapon she had been expertly trained to use.
She reached her car, a silver Panoz Esperante GT, and pulled out her keys. A sound behind her made her freeze. She spun, eyes scanning along the parked cars. Webb saw nothing, heard nothing except the hammering of her heart in her chest.
She turned back to her car. A figure emerged from the darkness, crashing into her. Before she could fall, he grabbed hold of her. An arm gripped her throat. Webb smelled a harsh chemical aroma. Instinctively, she jabbed back with the Kubotan, felt a hard contact. The man grunted, releasing her. She turned in one fluid movement. Jabbed hard at the nerve point on the side of his neck. The man had fast reactions. He moved his head away. She kicked out. Her foot connecting with the side of his knee, driving him to the ground.
She drove the Kubotan towards his head. He rolled away from her, coming to his feet, a silenced pistol in his hand.
She dived to her left.
Phutt! Phutt!
Two bullets streaked through the air she had vacated.
Performing her own role, she came to her feet, and fled down the central aisle of the garage.
“Everyone onto the plane,” Morgan’s voice echoed off the walls of the shaft.
Bane scrambled across the platform as the Aurora settled. He helped Dr Connelly and Billy onto the wing. Trotsky managed to get up himself before reaching down to pull Hypo and Kukri. Morgan gave Bane a hand before climbing onto the wing.
As they all scrambled for purchase on the back of the Aurora, the platform continued to descend. They cleared the roof of the chamber below as Cyclops powered the VTOL thrusters.
Shaking like a virgin taken for the first time, the plane lifted off the platform, ascending back into the shaft.
“What now?” Bane called out above the noise of the engines.
“We go up, find away out of this before we get to the surface.”
The noise in the shaft was deafening. Bane concentrated on not falling off. Cyclops gave the thrusters more power. The Aurora with it’s living cargo accelerated up the shaft.
Bad Willy stepped out of the elevator onto the mezzanine. Behind him emerged six special commandos from the elite werewolf unit. Specially trained and hard as nails. All armed with AK-47s, grenades hung from bandoleers.
He led them across to the steps down to the storage area floor. All eyes sweeping, seeking out enemies.
They reached the foot of the steps. Bad Willy turned right and led the werewolves to the section leading to the EEV door.
His nostrils flared as he caught the familiar scent of death on the air. Rounding a section of high racking they came upon a scene of carnage, broken crates, broken bodies, and twisted, scorched, metal. Bad Willy froze at the tableau before him. His eyes were drawn to an arm and shoulder jutting out from beneath the wreckage. The eagle tattoo on the back of the hand was all he needed in order to tell him his brother was dead.
The only sign of emotion on his face-a tick at the corner of his mouth.
He said through gritted teeth, “The people who did this are already dead, they died when they killed my brother.”
Turning, he pushed through the group of men, who followed on behind him.His face a mask, devoid of emotion.
Cyclops expertly piloted the Aurora up the shaft. Keeping the plane and its cargo steady. Bane was impressed with his skill.
All eight of them were lying belly down. Stretched out across the beasts back. They had travelled what Bane approximated was a hundred and fifty feet when Morgan called out.
“Trot, find us a way out with that gizmo of yours.”
“Sorry, boss, I lost it when I got blew up, we’re flying blind from now on.”
“Shit, okay, everyone keep your eyes peeled, there’s got to be some kind of maintenance doors leading into here.”
Bane spied one two minutes later.
“Over there, on the left wall, we just passed it.”
Morgan spoke into his throat mic, “Cyclops, door, drop back until I say stop.”
The craft juddered before reversing its momentum. A few seconds later they were hovering next to a recessed door. Kukri jumped onto the ledge. Light flooded into the shaft when he opened the door, and disappeared through the opening.
Two seconds later he reappeared.
“C’mon, it’s clear.” He beckoned.
One after the other they jumped over to the ledge.
Bane was the last one. He turned back to the Aurora, wondering how Cyclops was going to rejoin them.
The big Russian had popped the canopy, and had climbed out.
“I put it on autopilot, going to crash into the roof, they think we are dead,” he said before joining Bane on the ledge.
They moved to join the others. The room beyond the door was filled with tools and workbenches. Obviously a maintenance area of some kind. Morgan had sent Trotsky and Hypo to check outside the room.
“Do you two know where we are?” Morgan asked Dr Connelly and Billy.
“Unfortunately, no. We worked mainly in the labs on the third level, our security clearance only allowed us as far as the vault level, get us there and I can get you to the vault,” Lee answered.
Trotsky and Hypo returned from their foray, looks of dismay on their faces.
“What’s wrong?” Morgan asked.
“We’re on some kind of prison level,” Hypo said.
“And they’re about to slot all the prisoners,” Trotsky added.
"How many?”
“Ten, we over heard them talking, they’re waiting for some top brass figure before they do the deed.”
“Take us to them, we can free the staff and hopefully they can run interference while we head to the vault.”
Trotsky led them out of the room into a stone walled corridor. Bane brought up the rear behind Cyclops. Unconsciously, they had corralled Dr Connelly and Billy Lee between Hypo and Morgan.
Trotsky headed off to the right of the door to the maintenance room. Bane noticed it was distinctly colder here, and the air smelt of damp. The corridor curved to the left. Single file, they followed the curve to where the corridor terminated in a barred gate which hung open.
Beyond, a small flight of steps descended to some kind of reception area, a place where a guard might be posted, a closed metal door led off this area.
“Trot, go scout out the other side of the door,” Morgan said.
Trotsky went to the door, and cracked it open before peering through, he eased through, and the door closed behind him.
A few tense moments went by before he reappeared.
“There’s an open area where the first section of cells is located over three landings. There’s ten enemy personnel in a room across from the door, four more are patrolling the landings.”
They all crowded round Morgan as he outlined their subsequent actions.
“Bane, I want you with me, Hypo, Trotsky, you take out the roving patrols. Kukri, Cyclops, and myself and Bane will take out the room...hard and fast.”
“What about us? What do me and Billy do?”
“I want you two to watch our backs while we clear the room. Do you believe that you can manage that?”
Dr Connelly and Lee nodded. Both showed signs of stress on their faces. Dr Connelly was trying hard to stop her hands from shaking where they gripped her weapon.
Bane put a hand on her shoulder. She flinched.
“You will do fine, just stay low, and don’t point that thing at any of us,” he smiled, what he hoped was a reassuring smile.
They all readied their weapons.
Single file, they lined up. Trotsky nudged open the door with his foot.
Morgan held up three fingers. When the final finger dropped, they silently filed through the door.
Hypo, and Trotsky moved to the left, towards the cells, which looked like any prison landing around the country. Directly opposite them was a set of double doors with inset windows. Moving fast, Morgan, Bane, and Cyclops crashed through the double doors. Ten men were sitting at a couple of tables in the middle of what looked just like a staff room. All four opened up. Their bullets jerking the Staat men from their seats.
All lay dead on the floor, never having a chance to fight back. The smell of blood and gun-smoke filled the air.
Sounds of gun shots came to them from the landings. Hypo and Trotsky taking out the other guards. The sounds of cheers and applause followed on the tail of the gun play. The prisoners vocalising their appreciation.
Morgan surveyed the chaos they had created.
“Cyclops, see if you can find the cell door controls.”
“On it.”
The big Russian left the room.
“Bane, let’s you and I go find someone to command our reinforcements.”
Bane smiled knowing that having the extra bodies would even up their odds.
Coming out of the staff room they were greeted by Trotsky.
“The guards are down in
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