Kill Chain (32 page)

Yangcheon
District
Seoul,
Republic of Korea

Dawson
shoved a grenade into the M203 launcher attached to his MP5 and leaned out,
firing at the nearest automated weapons platform before stepping back
immediately behind the wall providing cover. An explosion shook the ground, the
belching lead abruptly stopped.

He grinned at Atlas.
“Care to see if I got it?”

“Umm, no. I think it’s
Spock’s turn.”

“No, effin’ way,” was
Spock’s reply over the comms.

“Hey, I was the one left
outside in Iceland to deal with these damned things last time.”

“Not my fault you’ve got
ample hips and couldn’t fit in the air duct.”

“Again with my hips.”

“At least I didn’t
mention your momma’s.”

“Or your sister’s!” added
Jagger.

Atlas glared through the
walls to the other side of the warehouse where Spock and Jagger were stationed.
“Skulls. Cracking. Pain!”

Dawson grinned and poked
his head out, relieved to find the platform a smoking slab of twisted metal.
“Okay, ladies, it’s done. Spock, are you in position?”

“Roger that.”

“Fire.”

Another explosion from
the opposite end of the parking lot signaled the end of a second platform. With
three on the opposite side of the building, there was only one left to worry
about.

Unfortunately, the only
way to hit it was to expose themselves.

Dawson slapped another
grenade into the launcher. “Okay everyone, remember the plan. I’m going to head
straight for the first dead platform at this side. Jagger, five count, then you
cross in front of the building. The third platform should already be tracking
me. Take your shot. As soon as he takes his shot, the rest of you follow and if
necessary, take yours. And if you all miss, you’re fired. Understood?”

“Yes, Sergeant Major!”

Dawson gripped his MP5
tightly, taking a deep breath. “Okay, proceed in three… two… one… Execute!” He
sprinted from the safety of the side of the opposing warehouse, racing toward
the smoking remains of the first platform he had eliminated. To his right he
finally got an angle on the third platform as it acquired him, positioned
between its two dead buddies.

At the far end he spotted
Jagger racing along the front of the building, the sentry taking no notice of
him as it opened up on Dawson. He dove the final few feet, rolling in behind
the sturdy metal housing of the wrecked automated weapons platform.

And the surviving
platform immediately adjusted.

Swinging its turret
toward the exposed Jagger.

“Get down!”

Jagger dove, rolling on
the ground as the metal doors of the warehouse were shredded, hundreds of
rounds tearing it apart as Dawson took a knee and fired at the platform. The
grenade slammed into the base, rocking the entire installation, though not
silencing the weapon.

Dawson immediately began
to reload as a second explosion rocked the area, the gun silenced, Atlas
stepping out into the open with a strut that demanded We Are The Champions be
played on a boombox somewhere.

“You okay?” Dawson
shouted to Jagger who rolled onto his back, raising an arm and giving a thumbs
up.

“Not sure yet. Think so.”

Spock jogged over and
pulled the man to his feet, any frivolity silenced as the gunfire and screams
inside their target were now audible with the sentries silenced.

“Let’s move!”

Niner
reached over and checked for a pulse, breathing a sigh of relief as he detected
one. He pushed Kim’s hair aside, it matted with blood, then felt his chest
tighten as he pulled his fingers away, brain matter evident. He squeezed his
eyes shut and dropped his head onto Nancy’s shoulder, the young girl already
crying as she stared at the nearly dead woman beside her.

He sucked in a breath and
buried his emotions deep, a rage building within that demanded attention. He
pushed himself up on his elbows when Nancy grabbed his arm.

“What are you doing?”

He stopped, there no
reasonable response.

“Get down!” she cried.

He complied when suddenly
the gunfire stopped, quickly followed moments later by clattering sounds.

Then nothing.

Not even a whir of the
drones’ blades.

“What just happened?”
asked someone.

Niner quickly spun
around, peering between the couches and smiled.

All the drones were down,
some piled on others, their rotors quickly coming to a rest.

“Okay, everyone out,
now!” He kicked the nearest couch out of the way then scrambled out, pulling Nancy
and the first couple of hostages out before pulling a gun off one of the drones
and shooting the lone door’s lock off. It swung open and he stepped through to
find the warehouse empty save the car he and Kim had arrived in, and the box
van that had transported the hostages.

And dozens of drones,
lying on the ground, dead.

He sprinted toward the
large doors to the right and pressed the button to open them, the motor
overhead roaring to life, the heavy doors rising. As the light from the fading
sun of a day from hell grew, his chest tightened as he saw a group of long
shadows rushing toward them.

He raised his weapon, he finally
about to meet who was behind this.

“Lightfoot!”

He smiled. “Thunderclap!”

He lowered his weapon as
Dawson, Spock, Jagger and Atlas came into view, Jimmy on their tail.

Thank God!

He turned toward the
hostages, still cowering inside. “Let’s go, now!” He waved them through as the
others arrived, taking charge.

“What happened?” asked
Dawson as he stared at the downed drones.

Niner shook his head. “No
idea. They just dropped. But let’s get to some cover before they change their
mind.”

“Roger that.” Dawson
turned to the women. “Let’s move, people!” His bark had the ladies yelping,
though he detected excitement rather than fear.

They had been saved.

Minutes too late.

He jogged back inside,
crawled under the table, and gently lifted Kim off the floor. He carefully
maneuvered his way out from under their makeshift shelter, then carried her
through the door and out of the warehouse as he watched choppers begin to set
down several hundred feet away, the others all safely clear of the building.

He leaned in and pressed
his nose against hers. “Hang on, baby, we haven’t even had our first date yet.”

Off the
Coast of South Korea, Yellow Sea

Grant
Riker slammed his fist on the console.

“Clever. Very clever.” He
sneered. “But not clever enough.”

He moved his mouse and
double-clicked on an icon, a subroutine launched for just such an occasion. A
satellite signal was sent to a relay station he had installed at the warehouse
for this eventuality, it attached to its own cellular tower.

It was just a matter of
time.

His stomach gurgled.

He gripped it, feeling a
little green, the open seas never his idea of a good time, and now that they
were skipping across the waves, heading full speed for Chinese waters, his
stomach was doing backflips.

But that was all
forgotten the moment the first camera activated.

Then another.

And the rest.

As they began to hover,
he tapped on one of the thumbnail images, a view expanding, the Asian Special
Forces soldier walking out of the warehouse carrying the Korean woman in his
arms.

“Time for everyone to
die.”

He double-clicked on
another icon.

Launching hundreds of
fully armed drones.

Yangcheon
District
Seoul,
Republic of Korea

Dawson
held a hand against his forehead, shielding his eyes from the evening sun. And
frowned. Niner had just emerged carrying what appeared to be a lifeless body.
He squinted, trying to make out who it was, glancing over at the ladies climbing
into the choppers.

Who’s missing?

Then it dawned on him.

The South Korean officer,
Kim.

“He asked her out.”

Dawson’s head spun toward
Nancy Starling, she having slipped away from the group of older women. “Excuse
me?”

“He asked her out, you
know, like on a date.” She smiled, a sad, wistful one. “The drones were
shooting at us, everyone was screaming, and he asked her out.” Tears filled her
eyes. “Wh-who does that?”

Dawson smiled. “
He
does.”

She nodded, a tear
escaping down each cheek. “He’s so awesome.”

Dawson looked at his
friend, the pain on his face clear. “He definitely is.”

“And you know, he’s not
gay.”

Dawson stared at her, his
eyes wide. “Huh?”

Her face paled, a shaky
hand pointing toward Niner. Dawson turned and gasped as dozens of drones
emerged through the open doors.

Followed by hundreds
more.

“Get down!”

Niner
glanced behind him and cursed, dropping to his knees, placing Kim on the ground
as gently as he could as he threw his body over hers. The drones opened fire,
some tilting forward as they gained speed, giving their weapons a chance to get
an angle on them, dozens of rounds ricocheting off the pavement.

He hugged her and
squeezed his eyes shut as he placed a gentle, first kiss on her forehead.

“Looks like neither of us
are getting out of this.”

“Open
fire!”

Dawson took a knee and
set his MP5 to full auto, belching lead at the wall of drones, the others doing
the same. Drone after drone dropped, but there were just too many.

Atlas shuffled over
beside him, firing a grenade over Niner’s head and into the entrance. “How the
hell are they being controlled? I thought Langley killed the cell network?”

Dawson activated his
comm, continuing to fire. “Control, Zero-One! We’re under attack by the drones.
I thought you took out the cell network, over!”

“We did, Zero-One. It’s
still down. They must have set up a satellite relay. Look for a tower, probably
on the roof of the warehouse. Something that looks out of place.”

Dawson scanned the roof,
spotting an array of antennae with a small dish aimed skyward. “Got it. Stand
by.” He turned to the others. “Take out that tower at the one-four corner!”

All firepower immediately
redirected, Dawson slapping a grenade into his launcher and firing, Atlas doing
the same, both hitting the corner of the building as the drones swept over
Niner, toward their position.

And the hostages.

They’re targeting the
girl.

The tower tilted, the
corner weakened, yet the drones continued.

“Hit it again!” he
ordered as he reloaded, Spock and Jimmy firing. The first round blasted apart
the wall, the second hitting the tower square on, ripping it to shreds. The
drones abruptly lost altitude, slamming into the ground and skidding toward
them before coming to a halt.

Dawson leaped to his
feet. “Destroy them all while we’ve got the chance!” He switched to semi-auto and
advanced, putting two rounds into each of the drones as his team spread out,
forming a line, making sure not a single drone escaped their retribution.

As they approached
Niner’s position, he looked at his friend who was now on his knees, checking
the Korean woman’s pulse.

His shoulders slumped.

Oh no!

Niner
slowly turned Kim’s lifeless face toward him, brushing the hair from her eyes,
tears welling in his own. He barely knew her, yet there had been a connection
there, probably artificial, created by the adrenaline of the situation, though
it didn’t make it any easier. The gunfire around him was mere thuds, as if he
were at the bottom of a pool of anguish, the real world above the surface, a
surface that right now he had no interest in participating in.