Black Flagged Apex (62 page)

"Face against the wall, on your knees. Fingers interlaced."

He circled behind the men as they quickly moved against the wall. Once they were flush against the wall, he frisked them for weapons, finding a 9mm Beretta pistol on the first man. He tucked this into his belt and completed the search of the other two, yielding nothing but a stainless-steel multi-tool.

"True America?" Daniel said, slapping the first man's head.

The light-haired man nodded, and Daniel went to work with the oversized zip ties stuffed into his front jacket pockets. He secured the man's wrists and ankles, connecting the two zip ties together with a third, effectively hog-tying the man. He pulled the scruffy-looking guy to the concrete.

"What about the rest of you?" he hissed.

"I was offered overtime. Been working since last night. Same with Benny," he said, nodding at the other guy.

"Don't move from this spot or I'll kill you. Understood?"

The two men nodded.

"Bay four clear."

One more bay to go. Daniel arrived at the corner in time to see two men take up position behind a stack of empty pallets to fire on Munoz and Melendez. He fired extended bursts at both men, instantly dropping them to the ground behind the blood-sprayed wood. Each of the terrorists' upper torsos had absorbed roughly half of the P90's remaining twenty-eight rounds, which tumbled upon entry, fragmenting bone and jellifying their chest cavities. They were dead before their bodies started to fall.

Daniel detected movement to his left. Something moving fast. His world exploded a millisecond later.

**

Melendez hit the corner hard and dropped to a prone position. He didn't want a repeat of what happened in the last bay. He had been hammered by the repeated impact of cinderblock chunks, as the bullets pulverized the reinforced wall in front of him. The combination of stinging fragments and the prolonged sound of automatic gunfire caused him to instinctually crouch, knowing on some level that the wall wouldn't resist the 9mm onslaught much longer. He wasn't sure how many of the bullets had made it through, but a sizable hole remained when the guns fell silent. Large enough for him to use as a firing port to clear his side of the room.

He heard the mechanical sound of a suppressed P90. Two long bursts. He slid into a firing position at the corner of the wall and leaned his weapon in to take a quick look. Two men immediately filled his view, both carrying drum-fed shotguns. Melendez fired a quick center of mass burst at the man aiming the shotgun in his direction and retracted his head. The first shotgun blast disintegrated a 2x2-foot section three feet above his head. The rest of the 12-gauge 00 buckshot went high as the mortally wounded shooter lost the ability to control the shotgun. Still, he managed to fire the entire thirty-round drum, even as he fell backward. His efforts brought down half of the cinderblock onto Melendez and punched several dozen holes through the roof. Because of the devastating shotgun blasts and hailstorm of concrete, he assumed that both shooters had unloaded on his wall.

**

Jessica felt the vibrations and miniature shockwaves produced by the automatic fire deeper inside the loading complex. She could also hear a low thumping sound over the persistent buzzing and ringing. Her sudden deafness left her feeling exposed. She constantly looked around, painfully aware of the fact that she couldn't hear someone walk up to her. She glanced back and forth between the blasted cinderblock corner and the three men. They looked terrified of the gunfire.

"Stay right here," she said, knowing that she had probably yelled this at them.

Against her better judgment and training, she left the men alone and scrambled for the opening. She reached the corner in time to see the wall next to Daniel explode, knocking him backward. The explosions continued, vaporizing sections of the wall, but sparing Daniel any further concussive damage. He scurried backward along the floor, losing his grip on the P90, as a figure shouldering a Saiga shotgun attempted to round the corner. The man repeatedly discharged the shortened semiautomatic shotgun as he walked, emboldened by the sheer firepower at his disposal. He appeared oblivious to Jessica's sudden presence.

She lined up the HK USP Compact's three-dot sight on the man's head and fired a single shot that stopped the firing. The man stumbled forward, discharging the weapon into the concrete one last time, before falling onto the clumsy shotgun. Daniel lay on his back, fumbling with an unfamiliar Beretta, which he finally extended toward the fallen shooter. He stared at her in disbelief and winked, which was the extent of the acknowledgement she required for saving his ass. She smirked, shaking her head, and turned to deal with the men she had left unattended. Thankfully, they hadn't moved a centimeter.

**

Daniel's ears rang, but he had no problem hearing Munoz.

"All clear in bay three. You okay in there?" Munoz yelled through the opening.

"I think so. How the fuck did you miss the guy with the Saiga?" Daniel yelled, making no effort to stand up.

"Two guys with Saigas. The other one fucked up Melendez. They came out of nowhere," Munoz said, showing his face through one of the holes in the wall.

Daniel sprang to his feet and retrieved the P90. "Jessica's deaf. Help her out with the prisoners and get Wilkins back in here. We may need him," he said, pointing at Anne Renee's contorted body.

"Shit. I'm on it," Munoz said and ran toward bay one. Daniel reloaded while walking toward Melendez. A gray, cement-powder-encrusted form lay still among the rubble.

"I'm fine," Melendez said, lifting his head from the pile.

He spit a few marble-sized chunks from his mouth and shook the debris from his head. Daniel offered him a hand and examined the bay. Four men dead and two huddled inside the back of the semi-trailer with their hands on their heads.

"Any live ones in bays five and six?"

"Negative. We cleared anything that moved," Melendez said.

"How did you get in?" Daniel said, glancing at the tightly sealed docking connection around the open trailer.

"The driver pulled forward a few feet to let us in. He must have been one of Wilkins' regular drivers. The driver of the first truck was definitely True America. He jumped down from his cab with an MP-5K."

"Go back out and get him. We need to talk to a driver," Daniel said.

"Got it."

Melendez rushed through the bays, trailing concrete dust. Daniel ran to the back of the trailer truck and ordered the two men forward. He hustled them at gunpoint toward bay two after a quick search. When he arrived in bay two, he found all three of the men pressed firmly against the wall. He was slightly surprised to see that the two unsecured men hadn't fled during the shotgun attack. He pointed at the hog-tied terrorist.

"Drag him by his legs into the first bay," he ordered, then turned toward the room and yelled, "I want all of the prisoners assembled against the wall in bay one."

Daniel planned to spend one minute determining who would leave with them. He couldn't imagine they would be able to stay here for much longer. The gun battle inside the warehouse was sure to have attracted attention. He expected to hear from Graves shortly. When he reached bay one, he directed the seven men to stand with their backs to the wall. The True America prisoner was thrown against the cinderblocks by the warehouse loaders, one of whom kicked him in the stomach. He'd start this without Melendez and the driver. They really needed to get out of here.

"Everyone look up at me. I don't work for the FBI or any federal agency. I have no rules or restrictions holding me back, so don't fuck with me. True America is finished. Jackson Greely, Lee Harding and Owen Mills will be dead before the sun goes down. No mercy will be shown. This is how my organization works. The bottled water loaded onto these trucks carries the same weaponized encephalitis that destroyed a city in Russia and led to the president's national address yesterday morning."

All of them mumbled and protested.

The man restrained on the floor spoke up. "I didn't know the water was poisoned. I was dragged up here to help."

"With a Beretta pistol?" Daniel said.

"That's my own pistol. I'm a local volunteer for True America. I was asked to show up at the loading bay, so I tucked the pistol into my belt when I left last night. It was a little weird getting a call to come here after dark on a Saturday night."

"I know this guy. He's not a troublemaker," vouched one of the men in the line.

"I'm really not interested in a list of civic achievements. I need to know everything this group can tell me about the convoys that left here," Daniel said.

The man on the ground spoke up again. "You need to check the locked box back there on that folding table. Ms. Paulson took one of those outside right before each convoy left. She came back empty handed."

Munoz stumbled back into the warehouse through the office door. "Wilkins split. We need to get out of here immediately."

"Melendez. What's your status?" Daniel said into the comm.

"Got the driver. Checking the other cabs. Looks like the rest of them took off," Melendez replied over the comms channel.

"Understood. Get him into the Cherokee. Search the driver with the MP-5K and take everything. Munoz, search Paulson's body for anything. We move in thirty seconds."

Daniel stepped over to the True America operative on the ground and pulled a small knife. He cut the zip ties restraining the man's legs and pulled him to his feet. He pointed to Jessica and signaled that he wanted her to take custody of the prisoner.

"Fuck with me one bit, and I'll cut your throat," he said, pushing him toward Jessica. "Melendez, bring the car around."

"Give me a minute to search this body," Melendez replied.

"You have about twenty seconds," Petrovich said.

A new voice cut into his earpiece. "I'd recommend driving through the gate within the next sixty seconds. Honesdale dispatch just sent three cars to investigate reports of shots fired at the facility. I'll try to divert them, but this is bound to attract state troopers, which will inevitably drag the FBI into the picture," Graves said.

"Roger. Police en route. Fayed, I need you to intercept a gray Ford Taurus. Should be passing your position shortly. You're looking for a thin, gray-haired gentleman named Bob Wilkins. We need him to identify the drivers assigned to the convoys and help us access company records. Take him to the house."

"I see the Taurus. What the fuck happened in there? He's driving that thing like a bat out of hell," Fayed said.

"Make sure you grab him. He's our best shot at locating the convoys," Daniel said.

"Copy. Out."

Munoz finished searching Paulson's body, retrieving a cell phone, car keys and a few spare magazines for a pistol.

"Toss me the car keys," Daniel said.

Forty-five seconds later, they were split up between the Cherokee and Paulson's Mercedes SUV, travelling toward the gate. Munoz and Melendez had the True America operative in the Cherokee with the lockbox, while the Petroviches ferried Grizzly Adams. They sailed through the commercial gate unopposed, driving within the speed limit as they navigated toward Route Six. They passed several Honesdale police cars headed to the White Mills Distribution Center, followed closely by Pennsylvania state troopers. He hoped the contents of the box would shed some light on what Jackson Greely and the rest of his True America lunatics had planned for this supposed New Recovery.

Chapter 56

2:14 PM

The White House Oval Office

Washington, D.C.

The president stared at the phone for a second and glanced at Jacob Remy, who shrugged. The situation room's senior watch officer had requested the president's presence in the main conference room. Normally, this request would be passed through his national security advisor, or someone a little higher up in the chain-of-command.

"Patch the watch officer through," he said out loud.

"Mr. Lee, you're connected to the president," his secretary said.

"Mr. President, I apologize for this unorthodox request, but we've had a major development. Major General Bob Kearney needs to speak with you. They've figured out what happened to the remaining canisters, but it's complicated, sir. He's standing by."

"Tell General Kearney that I'm on my—"

"Pardon the interruption, Mr. President, but he said that you'd want to talk to him before entering the situation room. General Sanderson was involved."

Jacob Remy stood up from his comfortable chair and gave the president a concerned look. He nodded a second later. The president had no idea where this would go, but he was fairly certain it would be painful. Kearney had vouched for Sanderson's NCTC liaison, who appeared to have been a True America undercover operative. His Washington, D.C., career would hit a wall if the evidence officially supported Shelby's theory that Sanderson had planted a traitor on the task force.

"All right. Put Major General Kearney on," the president said.

"Mr. President, General Kearney. Sorry for the subterfuge, but I have a situation that requires special handling."

"What do you mean by that? Sanderson's situation is already complicated enough."

"Are we on speakerphone, Mr. President?"

"Yes. I'm with my advisor, Jacob Remy. The room is clear."

"We've discovered six convoys suspected of carrying bottled water contaminated with the Zulu virus."

"Convoys? Bottled water?" he said, glancing at the pitcher of water on the silver tray at the edge of his desk.

"It appears that True America never intended to poison municipal water supplies. Sanderson's team tracked the canisters to a hidden facility in Pennsylvania, where they were used to lace bottles with the virus. Thousands of bottles headed to different targets. They managed to stop one of the convoys at its point of origin in Honesdale, Pennsylvania, at one of the Crystal Source spring water distribution plants."