CHAPTER ONE #3
The camera flashes and the screens burst with all different pictures of this man, but yet again he’s turned away just in time.
‘He’s almost to the hatch.’
‘Why hasn’t he dropped the power?’
They watch in silence as the man successfully reaches the hatch.
‘There’s no way,’ Cole mutters determinedly.
The hatch sits flush with the sewer ceiling; reinforced steel locked into a concrete collar by hydraulic bolts and sealed magnetically against upward force. There’s nothing beneath it to grip, nowhere to wedge leverage. You can’t cut through it, and the locks hold even under explosive pressure.
No amount of brute force on the planet will open it.
All three of them watch as he slaps something onto all four sides of the hatch, small and slender. ‘C4?’ Cole asks, squinting to see. ‘That won’t work.’
‘That’s not C4,’ Finn says. ‘No detonation cords and the placement’s wrong.’
Kade stares hard then glances at a different screen. ‘Fucking hell.’
‘What?’
‘He’s using thermal warp.’
‘What the hell is that?’
The thermal screen colours invert aggressively as a rush of heat is followed quickly by a flood of cold. ‘He’s warping the hydraulics.’
‘I’ve never even heard of—’
The hatch unlocks.
‘Oh my God,’ Cole utters, horrified. ‘He just… let himself in.’
‘Delta Team, take him out!’ Kade instructs.
Through technology they hear gunfire and controlled yelling, watching the chaos unfold as Delta Team’s night-vision goggles stream everything that’s going down, but only for a few seconds, because then every single bubble of green and black bursts into searing white, and all streams go black.
Every single one.
The headsets are quiet and dead.
‘What the fuck was that?’
Cole types fast. ‘All night-vision headsets just… popped.’
‘Popped?’ Kade echoes, eyes wide. ‘What does that mean?’
‘It’s a weaponised data overload,’ Finn explains. ‘A mass gain packet to create a heat spike in the micro-lenses.’
‘In all of them?’
‘They’re networked for hive vision. They’re all down.’
‘Fucking hell.’
‘Who is this guy?’
The dark-band bursts to life. Luca’s voice reaches Kade first.
‘The equipment… ah, fuck! It’s flash fried or something. Nothing’s working. My fucking corneas are seared, no joke. I’m seeing colours like I’m over the fucking rainbow here. Everyone’s night-blind!’
‘Take cover until it passes,’ Kade instructs. ‘Delta Team, come in?’
Nothing.
No answer.
‘Oh my God,’ Finn whispers.
‘Charlie Team, come in?’ Kade says, waiting. ‘Bravo Team, come in?’
‘Bravo Team here. What’s the status?’
‘What floor are you on?’
‘Ground.’
‘Un-sub has breached the Tower. Take him out, stay tight.’
‘Heard.’
Kade closes his eyes.
‘He’s going to drop the power.’
If and when that happens, he’ll be locked in the Watch for six minutes.
The intruder is inside the Tower.
No one’s ever made it that far.
‘Kade,’ Finn warns quietly. ‘Kade, don’t even think about it.’
Kade opens his eyes. ‘Fuck it.’
‘Don’t be so stupid,’ Cole calls out. ‘Riley will—’
‘Stay up here, I’ll be back,’ he calls out, jogging for the exit.
To leave the Watch, three doors open in staggered activation.
They’ve never seemed to take longer than now, and Kade practically runs through the last one but just makes it out in time because ten seconds later, the power drops out, plunging the Tower into darkness. ‘Motherfucker.’ He presses his earpiece. ‘QG, come in.’
The radio answers. ‘Gage here.’
‘You night-blind?’
‘You know I hate night vision.’
‘Second floor. Bring anyone recovered from the flash.’
‘Heard.’
Kade is almost onto the third floor when he hears gunshots from below.
‘Cole, you have eyes on him?’
‘The Mesh is malfunctioning now. It’s hard to track him.’
The Mesh never malfunctions.
‘He’s still on ground floor?’
‘From what we see, yes.’
‘Hold fast for six minutes until the backup line kicks in.’
‘You shouldn’t have gone down there, Kade.’
‘Keep the line clear.’
‘Heard.’
By the time Kade reaches the second floor, Gage and several others are there waiting. Kade crouches beside him in the payroll room, switching to tactical hand signals, taught as standard in Iron Star. Kade speaks fluent sign language, but Gage doesn’t, so it’s this or whispering.
Kade makes the signs slow and clear.
One-man operation. No backup.
Gage taps his chest twice. Confirmed.
Maintain visual. No blind angles. Close quarters imminent. Encircle the target and take him out.
Kade hears footsteps.
Gage silently instructs the rest of the team to take up point all around the room. Kade stays in direct line of sight. He wants to see this fucker with his own eyes. Bathed in shadows, they wait.
The man walks inside with an unhurried pace.
Kade aims his handgun from a position of semi-cover.
They need to wait until he’s in the centre of the room.
It’s such an obvious trap, Kade can’t help but feel curious as to what this man will do. The trick with the goggles was smart, but wearing no protective gear seems suicidally stupid.
The room is dark, only light coming from outside whenever the half-moon deigns to shine through the glass.
When he walks inside, Kade strains to see him.
He clocks height first, maybe five ten. Silent-tread tactical boots, worn at the toe instead of the heel.
Shoulders level. No wasted movement. Trained gait.
He’s favouring the MP7, exactly what Kade himself would choose for close-quarters infiltration.
The sidearms are untouched. Same with the rifles.
If he was plated up, Kade wouldn’t think twice.
But the black tee shows clearly no armour underneath. There’s blood on both arms, various rivulets with no visible entry wounds.
When he’s dead centre in the room, Kade opens fire.
He trusts Gage and the others to make a fine mess of his chest and head, so Kade goes for the ankles, dropping him easily.
It’s almost disappointing.
When the last shot is fired, he’s on the floor, not moving.
Kade keeps his gun trained on him, three bullets left just in case, but he’s riddled. ‘Gage,’ he calls out calmly.
Gage kicks away the MP7. They surround him.
The moon from outside shows the blood in desaturated shades of darkest crimson. The tattoos up close are aged, some blown out. Kade reads them with interest, surprised to come across a vibrant, happy little fox with a rainbow tail sitting on the outside of his wrist.
‘He dead?’ someone asks.
Kade clocks that he’s still breathing, shakes his head.
Gage looks up at Kade. ‘Bet you wanna question this one.’
Kade parts his lips to answer but he doesn’t get the chance because his leg is viciously swept out from under him and it knocks him to the floor hard, punches his breath from his lungs.
Gunfire bursts like firecrackers on a bonfire and he vaguely hears one of his men let out a pained yell followed by an unexpectedly wet squelch.
Kade kicks up, grabs his gun, but the intruder has already fled.
He left the MP7 behind.
‘All teams, all teams,’ Kade says into the earpiece. ‘Un-sub is on the second floor headed up. Move into pursuit!’
Kade doesn’t wait for confirmation.
The intruder should be leaving a blood trail a blind man could follow after taking that many rounds at close range, but there’s almost nothing, no stagger pattern, no arterial spray.
He must be on something, Kade thinks. PCP doesn’t fit, too sharp for that, and even keta-mod or military go-pills wouldn’t stop blood loss, which means something else. Something new, maybe.
On the third floor, they sweep through the living areas.
‘Where is he?’ Gage asks, scanning around. His gun moves wherever his eyes do. ‘Fuck, we need the lights. Can the Watch see where—?’
Something rolls into the room, three somethings.
Kade turns away, arm thrown over his eyes just in time as he yells at the others to get down.
The flashbangs go off, sending a shockwave big enough to knock Kade flat and though he covered his eyes, his ears weren’t so lucky.
Freshly winded and gasping, the concussive crack has ruptured his hearing, leaving only a nasty high-pitched whine in otherwise oppressive silence.
Kade can’t hear himself breathing, can’t hear anything.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
‘Gage!’ he calls out but doesn’t know if Gage responds or even if it was loud enough to be heard. Kade scrambles for his gun, stunned but not blind at least. He gets hold of it and then wedges himself behind a sofa for cover. He can’t hear gunfire, but he can feel it puncturing the air.
Kade slows his breathing, closes his eyes, has to calm down.
Count the rings in a cut-down tree.
One.
Two.
Three.
He crouches down and peers around the arm of the sofa he used for cover. He sees his people on the ground, some of them still moving until they’re shot dead by a reckless blast of bullets. The intruder didn’t check, he just took them all out, every single one.
Kade swallows down his violent desire to absolutely decimate this motherfucker, knows he needs to be patient.
He keeps his eyes glued to the boots.
They walk closer.
Shit.
Kade grips his gun, won’t go down without a fight.
But then the boots turn away and pull into a run, headed out of the room. Kade quickly sees why when a fuck-ton of white lights come streaming inside, all of them attached to guns. Rough hands are on him, pulling him up.
It’s Luca. He’s saying things.
Kade shakes his head, taps his ears.
Luca switches rapidly to sign language, which he speaks well because Kade taught him. Are you hurt? Shot?
‘No, you?’