Blood Relics (A James Acton Thriller, #12) (27 page)

Dawson
and Niner rose.

“Thank
you for your time, sir,” said Dawson, shaking Renner’s hand as the door opened
and Kellner entered.

“Always
a pleasure to help out the FBI.”

Dawson
nodded, noting the slight smile on Renner’s face at the mention of the FBI.
Dawson suppressed the frown desperate to break out.

He at
least knows we’re not who we say we are.

“This
way, gentlemen,” said Kellner, holding his hand out and toward the hallway.

As they
stepped out into the late afternoon sunlight shining through the bank of
windows an alarm sounded, red lights mounted in the ceiling at regular
intervals flickering on and off. Kellner touched an earpiece, his eyes opening
wide as he turned toward them.

“Trouble?”
asked Niner.

Kellner
reached into his jacket and Niner’s hand darted forward, crushing Kellner’s
windpipe, his other hand quickly retrieving the weapon the man was reaching for.

Dawson
looked behind them to see the hallway starting to fill with personnel. “Get his
pass.” Niner nodded, yanking the badge and reel off the gasping man’s belt.
Dawson sprinted toward the reception area, Niner on his heels.

“Halt!”

Dawson
dropped his shoulder and tackled the man confronting them, nailing him square
in the chest. They both hit the ground, Dawson pulling the man’s weapon and
rolling to a knee, aiming down the long corridor causing most to jump back into
their offices. Niner took a knee beside him and slid the heel of his shoe
aside, pulling out a small square of C4 with a detonator.

Renner
stepped into the hallway and Dawson took a bead on him, pulling the pass off
his man’s belt.

“Gentlemen,
you’re not getting out of here. Why don’t you just surrender?”

“Ready?”
asked Dawson.

“As I’ll
ever be.”

“Let’s
go.”

Dawson
rose, retreating toward the door, his weapon trained on Renner as Niner whipped
the small bundle at the closed glass doors, counting down the delay he had
programmed into the timer.

“And
down!”

Dawson
dropped to a knee, lowering his head so any glass or shrapnel would hit his
back and not his neck, Niner doing the same behind him. He covered his ears and
squeezed his eyes shut.

The
blast was deafening and too close for comfort. His head was ringing a bit but
it was nothing he hadn’t experienced hundreds of times before. He jumped to his
feet, doing a self-assessment on the fly as they continued their retreat
through the now shattered door.

“Our
stuff, now!” shouted Niner, Kellner’s weapon pointing at the receptionist. Her
hands shaking, she placed two plastic trays on the counter. They quickly filled
their pockets as Dawson kept his weapon trained on the hallway.

Renner
began walking toward them.

“You
aren’t getting away, gentlemen.”

“Stairs?”
asked Dawson, the receptionist pointing to their left. “Let’s go!”

Niner
led the way, Dawson covering Renner for a few extra seconds then following
Niner, his weapon aimed at the cowering occupants of the Renner Security
reception area.

“It’s locked!”
Dawson glanced over his shoulder to see Niner swiping Kellner’s pass to no
avail. Dawson pointed the weapon at the receptionist.

“Open
it!”

“I
can’t! Everything is locked down!” she cried, her hands up, most of her body
hidden behind the counter as she ducked.

“Cover
me,” ordered Dawson as he rushed to the door, Niner taking his place. He
retrieved the small block of C4 from his own shoe and placed it on the lock.
“Fire in the hole!” The blast made quick work of the door and he pushed it
open, checking the stairwell, finding it empty. “Let’s go!”

Niner
retreated toward the door and they were soon rushing down the stairwell toward
the ground floor, the sound of heavy footfalls above them keeping them
motivated as their pursuers refused to give up.

Niner
shoved through a fire exit, another alarm going off as they found themselves
outside and at the side of the building. Two men suddenly appeared from around
the front corner of the building, weapons drawn.

“Halt!”

Dawson
shot the man on the left in the leg, Niner doing the same to the one on the
right. Both men dropped, writhing in pain as Dawson sprinted toward them, his
weapon still trained on his target, ready to take him out should he be foolish
enough to try and raise his weapon again.

It fell
to the ground, his partner doing the same as they instead grabbed their wounds.
Dawson jumped over them, turning the corner to see civilians running away from
the sound of the shots.

Good.
Makes it easier to spot the hostiles.

Several
men burst from the main entrance of the building, giving pursuit as Dawson located
their car parked wisely on the street rather than in the underground parking
that had been available to them.

“Start
the car!” shouted Dawson as Niner put on a burst of speed, key fob in hand, the
lights of the Ford Mondeo flashing as he unlocked the doors. Niner yanked open
the driver side door as Dawson slid across the hood, weapon still extended
toward their pursuers, more now pouring from the side entrance they had just
come from. Niner’s door slammed shut as the engine roared to life.

“Let’s
go!”

Dawson
climbed in as Niner gunned the engine, sending them into traffic. Dawson hit
the button for the sunroof then pushed himself through, his gun leading the way
as he kept a bead on the lead pursuers just in case anyone had the idea of
shooting.

Niner
turned the corner just as Dawson spotted their tail from earlier. “We’ve got
company!” he shouted, dropping back into the passenger seat.

“Buckle
up! It’s going to be a bumpy ride!”

Dawson
reached for his seatbelt as Niner jumped the curb to avoid the stopped traffic
ahead, sending pedestrians screaming and fleeing, Niner laying on the horn to
warn the less observant. As they barreled down the wide sidewalk Dawson checked
the side view mirror to see the black Mercedes gaining, it not having to wait
for pedestrians to get out of the way.

“They’re
getting a little close!”

“Stop
backseat driving!”

Dawson’s
eyes popped wide as he turned his attention forward, a café patio rapidly
approaching, people still sipping their coffee. “Umm, you see that, don’t you?”

“Don’t
make me pull this car over.” Niner pumped the horn, the closest patrons
beginning to abandon their drinks and seats. He adjusted their trajectory
slightly, favoring the side closest to the road with about half a car width of
depth available. “It’s not gonna work!” shouted Niner as he apparently noticed
the same thing Dawson just had.

An iron
fence lining the side of the patio facing the road.

If they
took the line Niner was on now they’d hit post after post, and depending on how
hard of an impact, the airbags might just deploy, cutting off their engine.

“Clear!”
Niner jerked the wheel to the right, lining them up with the center of the
patio just as they hit the first table, abandoned coffee cups and assorted
snacks firing out in every direction including up the hood and onto the
windshield.

“Where
the hell are the windshield wipers?” yelled Niner, grasping at air, finally
finding the stalk and turning them on.

He
locked up the brakes as the sidewalk came back into view, the thick cream
infused coffee cleared away, a small child with a balloon in her hand standing
in the middle of the sidewalk as her mother rushed toward her, screaming.

Niner
cranked the wheel to the right, sending the car into a skid as he yanked on the
emergency brake then released it, gunning them down an alleyway, missing the
little girl by only a few feet.

“Still
on us!”

Dawson
leaned forward, checking the mirror and cursed as the Mercedes pulled into the
alley. “We’ve gotta lose them then this car. Cops all over the city are going
to be looking for this thanks to your lane choices.”

“Hey,
we’re trained to always take the lane with the least cars in it.”

“Remind
me to revise the training manual to define what a lane actually is.”

Niner cranked
the wheel, directing them into another narrow street then hammered on the
brakes, the car shuddering to a halt as a large garbage truck rumbled toward
them. Niner slammed the car in reverse and floored it, the engine whining as
they shot backward and past the alley they had just come from, the Mercedes
about to reach them. Dawson pointed at the one way sign and was about to say
something when Niner glared at him. “Not a word from the cheap seats.”

Dawson
shrugged, palms upward at the garbage truck driver, giving a “Hey, what can
I
do” look at the irate man shaking his fist at them and seemingly not too
concerned over how close he got.

The
Mercedes burst out of the alleyway, the driver cranking the wheel to the left
to follow, just as the garbage truck arrived at the same spot, slamming into
them, shoving the driver side into the corner of an old timber framed gasthaus,
shattering the first floor windows with the impact.

Dawson
waved at them.

Niner
spun the wheel, reversing their direction as a small courtyard opened up and
gunned them from the scene, quickly turning up another lane, leaving their
pursuers behind. Dawson fished out his phone and sent a message to Langley.

Need
pickup.

“Let’s
ditch this thing before you get someone killed.”

Niner sniffled.
“I save your life and all you do is criticize. You’re such a man.”

Dawson
pointed at an open parking spot. “Park it there, princess.”

Niner
nosed the car in, popping up on the curb then back down. Dawson climbed out,
checking to make sure their pursuers didn’t have friends, then blended in with
the late afternoon pedestrians, Niner beside him.

His
phone vibrated with a message.

Pickup
in 15 minutes at these coordinates.

He
touched his thumb on the GPS coordinates and the map application launched with
instructions on how to get to the rendezvous. He showed it to Niner.

“Let’s
boogey.”

Renner Security, Stuttgart, Germany

“What did they get?”

Renner
was glaring at the tech as the young man’s fingers flew over the keyboard,
expertly checking log files as another examined the device that had been found
inserted into the back of his laptop computer. The network security software
had detected the hack but he had no idea how long the device had been active
before the alarm had been triggered and the internal network shutdown.

“I’m not
sure yet, but they got a lot.”

“Sir!”

Renner
looked toward the door, Kessler poking his head inside. “Our guys lost them,
one is injured pretty bad.”

“Scheize!”
Renner’s fist slammed into the desk.

“They
were hit by a garbage truck. Karl has a broken arm and leg, but he’ll live.”

Renner
batted the words away. “I don’t care about that. Do we have any idea where they
are?”

“The
tracker we put on their car has them stationary the past two minutes so we’re
assuming they’ve left it. We have men heading to the area now.”

“They
downloaded our employee records!” exclaimed the pimpled geek at his desk. “It
looks like they pulled the entire file.”

Renner
paused.

That
might not be so bad.

Their
employee files were all legit, and if these guys were CIA like he suspected,
nothing in there would really be secret. All off-the-books projects were
staffed by “former” employees, and no records were kept on the network, instead
everything in a vault with an electromagnetic pulse safeguard that would wipe
all of the data in the event of a breach.

“They
got nothing,” he finally said, looking at Kessler. “Nothing of value, at
least.”

Kessler
smiled. “So our security software worked.”

Pimples
raised his hand. “Umm, no, it looks like they had already broken their
connection.”

Renner’s
eyes narrowed, not liking the implications. If they were the ones that broke
the connection, then that meant they had what they wanted. “But why would they
want personnel files?”

Kessler
stepped farther into the room, arms folded across his chest, one hand rubbing
his chin. “We keep tombstone data in there like name, address, phone number,
date of birth.”

Pimples’
head bobbed. “Employee history, banking information, emergency contacts—”

Renner
snapped his fingers. “Banking information.” As soon as he heard it he knew what
they were after. Due to the nature of his employees’ work he was quite certain
the CIA would have thick dossiers on them all including all of their
biographical information and current contact information. But they might not
have their financial data, and if they did, they almost certainly didn’t have
any buried accounts. “I want every single employee file checked, starting with
recent layoffs. I want to know if any of their bank accounts are private.”