“Just don’t make me climb any more ladders until this damned leg is healed.”
A shout from across the expanse of the building brought them back to their surroundings. Their eyes caught sight of a figure slamming shut the main door, water dripping from his muscular form. Miller jogged back toward their position, an automatic rifle in one arm.
“Motion detectors mounted and signaling,” he called.
The space within was long abandoned. Decaying, discarded crates the size of trucks littered the floor. The ex-marine dodged back and forth, zig-zagging as he approached. The detritus provided the perfect cover for their needs. Fawkes and his mercenaries would need to expose themselves several times in order to get near.
Savas and Cohen looked down from a raised, metallic platform. Once used by a supervisor directing the traffic in the warehouse during better years, it now served an unintended strategic purpose. They had positioned several crates facing the entrance. Together with the advantage of height, the cover would insure that only an elite commando force of some number would make it through. Whatever they would face, they were sure to do it much hurt.
Miller finished scaling the ladder and dropped heavily onto the platform, water scattering and dripping through the metallic mesh of the platform floor. He scanned the interior of the building and grunted.
“Of course, they could try blasting or cutting their way through any number of weak points in this flimsy structure. But I think that’s giving them too much credit and time to plan. And only if they had the numbers.” He pointed to the main entrance. “My money is on the front door. John and I can take positions on opposite sides of this platform — there and there. Rebecca, we could use your gun, but we can’t trust that hacker. Keep it trained on her the entire time. We’re vulnerable from behind.”
Cohen smiled. “Good plan. I refuse to move this leg again.” She turned behind them, looking down on the bound form of Poison. The hacker glared back. “Sorry about the cuffs.”
“Fuck you Feds. Maybe I should help him kill you.”
Savas crouched down beside her. “We don’t know that you won’t, Poison. Try to see it from our angle. There isn’t much trust going around when it comes to Fawkes and Anonymous.”
“He’s not Anonymous. Not anymore.”
“Who’s to say? He claims he is. He’s sprung several traps on us, tried to kill us. We can’t assume you’re on our side.”
“Why would I be here?”
“Maybe the bait is to hook us.”
She scowled at him but remained silent. At that moment, the monitor on the floor of the platform began to beep. Miller scooped it into his hands, glaring downward.
“They’re here. Barely time to prepare. Ten yards in front of the door. We’ve got seconds.”
Cohen leaned into one of the crutches, holding her firearm pointed at the platform near Poison’s feet. She stared intensely at the other woman. Miller and Savas shook the platform as they rushed to the opposite corners, crouching behind wooden crates and aiming their weapons toward the door.
Miller called to Savas. “If they throw frags, look away until the blast. Then back and focus.”
His anticipation proved correct. The door to the warehouse was slung open, the rusted metal screaming like something dying. Several black shapes outside hurled objects into the warehouse. Savas and Miller turned their heads as the grenades exploded, the sound rivaling the thunder outside. They recovered quickly and reoriented, training their guns on the men rushing inside. And opened fire.
61
The incoming soldiers were dropped quickly, their position impossible to defend. They barely had time to size up their enemy and the layout before rounds from one or both of the FBI men cut them down. Their lack of strategy made it clear they hadn’t expected this sort of resistance.
Four bodies lay within a twenty foot radius of the main door. There was no further motion from outside. The smoke of spent ammunition rose as a fog around the top of the platform. Savas started to rise, but Miller held up his hand.
“Not yet!”
“You think there are more?”
“Maybe this was a feint. Stay low.”
“But Fawkes isn’t there!” hissed Savas.
“We don’t know that. Can’t see their faces.”
“He’s not there,” said Poison, looking down on the corpses. “He’s no Johnny Rambo.”
“Don’t shoot!”
A cry rang across the warehouse.
“That’s Fawkes,” said Poison.
Miller peered over the crate in the failing light. He strapped on a set of night vision goggles and adjusted them.
“I don’t see anything, John. He’s still outside.”
“Fawkes!” cried Savas. “If that’s you, come in with both hands high in the air!”
There was a pause. “No way! You’ll shoot me!”
“Paranoid to the end,” whispered Poison.
“That’s not our plan!” yelled Savas again. “You’re useless dead. We need you to fix this shit!”
Another pause. “Is she there? Poison?”
Savas made to speak again but was cut off by the girl.
“Fuck yeah, you piece of shit! All this is because of you! And you bugged me, you fucktard? Seriously?”
A dark form ambled into the warehouse from the door, his head covered by a hood. His hands raised above him.
“Turn around,” called Savas. Fawkes obeyed. “Now close the door. All the way.”
Fawkes grasped the handle of the sliding door and yanked. At first it didn’t move and he lost his balance. After several hard pulls and better planting his feet, he managed to scrape it across the floor to the staccato bursts of metal on cement. A fifth jerk slammed it shut.
“Now back around with your hands high.” Fawkes complied and Savas stood slowly and turned to Miller. “I’m going to bring him up. He tries anything, end him.”
Cohen turned to Poison as Savas descended. “Will he try something?”
The hacker shook her head. “Are you kidding? He wasn’t even good at first person shooters. Your man’s safe.”
Miller watched tensely as Savas reached the hacker. Fawkes offered no resistance, walking slowly in front of the FBI man. Savas pushed him forward with his gun, and the pair navigated the obstacle course toward the platform. Finally, the Fawkes scaled the ladder as Miller trained his weapon downward. The pair reached the platform without incident.
Poison laughed. “You still have the fucking mask. Seriously.”
Fawkes stood shivering in a wet trench coat, water beading and running along its contours. Contrasting the black of the fabric was a white mask — the goateed, smirking visage that had come to haunt too many of their nightmares.
“Fawkes,” Savas said, stepping forward. “Miller, the extra set of cuffs?”
Miller handed Savas the restraints and he bound Fawkes’ hands behind him.
Fawkes looked to Poison. His voice was heavily muffled. “Looks like they’re still treating you well.”
“So that’s it? That’s all you had left to come rescue me?” The masked man said nothing. “What a sad way to go out, Fawkes.”
“It doesn’t matter anymore. They can’t stop things now.”
Cohen kept her weapon at the ready, her eyes on Poison as she spoke. “I wouldn’t count on that, Fawkes. We have a plan to stop you.”
“You mean the little bald girl in the cellar?” The mask laughed. “I have a larger team taking care of her now. That’s over.”
“You son of a bitch,” Miller said, advancing on the man.