Chapter Eighteen: Doctor Emerick Rhodes

‘Shit,’ Mike said, pressing down on the button again and watching the readout of the digital timer that was on the display of the detonator. ‘This is not happening,’ he muttered, well aware of the glances he was receiving from everyone but Jon, who was still busy keeping the remaining forces outside the silo in cover, as he popped open the back of the detonator, inspecting the wires and boards within, checking each plastic covered line carefully. ‘The detonator’s fine,’ he concluded, looking up worriedly, ‘there’s got to be a problem with the satchels…someone’s still in there!’

‘Rhodes.’ Paul muttered, immediately making for the back door of the truck when Jon’s voice interrupted everything: ‘I’m out! We’re out!’ and the level of gunfire on the outer shell of the truck increased tenfold as the security forces moved in, guns blazing. ‘Hold it right there, Heff,’ Graeme said over the radio loop, watching the monitor that showed the inside of the truck, ‘you can’t all go back in, you’re going to need to keep those forces off you, and Tim’s not in position to do that, and his hands are full enough now.’

Back at the headquarters Graeme was typing rapidly, his fingers a blur as he took in the detail from the two sectors that were up on adjacent screens. One showed Tim, lying in the cover of a small hillock as he traded fire with a group of men who had taken up position around the gate and the other was the view of the truck’s interior. ‘Shadow, you take Nobel back inside, if Rhodes is there do not engage him, the Fade to Black is our priority, any way you can get that thing to blow. Heff, you and Demon get some firepower from one of Sloth’s handy stashes in there and protect the truck, Sloth – get prepped for immediate evacuation once Shadow and Nobel get back, you have to go now or you aren’t getting out of there,’ he finished, watching the perimeter or security forces as they moved in on the truck.

‘I should be going back in,’ Paul said, ‘Matt’s more use out there,’ he added, not wanting to slight the other man. ‘And if Rhodes is armed?’ Graeme said in reply, knowing that Paul would see the sense, which was confirmed when he reached into a create opposite him and withdrew a heavy machine gun and bipod, settling it on his knees.

‘Me first,’ Matt said, reloading his pistols before handing one to Mike, then drawing another one from the gun rack on one side of the truck to replace it. Moving to the back he kicked the doors open, guns up and firing from the off, making each shot count and each shot deadly. Two men went down with blood pouring from wounds in their heads, another four fell as bullets took them in the legs and one more from the end of the truck fell as a bullet found the gap in his flak armour and went straight through his heart. ‘Move it Nobel!’ Matt yelled, moving back into the room as the other agent leapt out after him and before the fire from the security forces could resume as they ran around to the rear of the truck. Jon followed, a light machine gun in his hands, before doubling back to the front to set up a field of fire from there, and Paul rolled out last, landing neatly on the floor and deploying the bipod for the machine gun, perfectly positioned to repel the first three men who came into view.

Matt took off down the corridors again, Mike in pursuit, heading for the balcony that would lead down to where the bombs had been wired up. As he ran Matt let the empty clips fall from his guns, clattering away on the floor as the two of them ran to the silo’s heart and the final confrontation with Rhodes. ‘Hey Matt,’ Mike said suddenly, drawing to a halt behind his friend and causing Matt to do the same, even as he was pulling fresh clips from his combat jacket to put into the guns.

‘What is it?’ Matt asked, only realising a second later that Mike hadn’t called him by his call sign, and that the man’s earpiece was dangling from his jacket, his radio switched off.

And Mike’s gun was pointed towards him.

‘What the hell–?’ Matt started, sliding a clip into his gun forcefully and lifting it, but not before the end of Mike’s exploded with noise and a bullet flew from the barrel into Matt’s stomach, slamming him up against the wall as it blew out his back, spraying the corridor with his blood. Matt’s guns fell from his nerveless grasp as he slowly slid down the wall, his legs buckling beneath him, and Mike leaned forward quickly, pulling the earpiece and radio from Matt’s jacket then slamming the equipment up against the wall, shattering the electronics.

Crouching down opposite the wounded man, Mike looked up at the wall where Matt’s blood was smeared, nodding with interest. ‘You see how it’s blacker than normal blood from a wound? That means I got you somewhere near the liver, see, that’ll give you about twenty minutes to live if you can get pressure on it, maybe ten minutes without.’ Nodding to himself once more Mike reached into his combat jacket as Matt’s mouth moved noiselessly, his eyes searching the face in front of him while his hands now held the wound in his stomach, dark blood seeping from between his fingers. Ignoring the look of his friend Mike pulled two batteries from his pocket and held them up to Matt with a smile before opening the detonator and sliding them into the device, which immediately started beeping as the eight minute countdown kicked off.

‘I’d love to stay,’ Mike said, ‘after all, my work is here, well, not all of it,’ he continued, standing and pulling a vial from one of his pockets. ‘Fade to Black will be back and Emerick Rhodes with it,’ Rhodes said, sneering down at Matt, ‘Graeme will never have a chance to find the cure; I won’t fail where Haldis did.’ Leaving Matt propped up against the wall, Rhodes began to jog away, heading back for the surface when the bullet whizzed past his cheek. Turning around he saw Matt lying in the middle of the hall, blood pouring from the wound in his back as he lay face down, holding the gun in bloodied fingers that lost the grip, letting it fall to the floor. The sneer on Rhodes’ face increased, and he lifted the gun that he held once more, letting it fall on Matt’s face, tightening his finger on the trigger.

But Matt’s head slumped downward like his hands as the pool of blood surrounding him continued to grow, and Rhodes lifted the gun, allowing a satisfied smile to cross his features instead of a sneer. Turning around he saw the hole in the wall where Matt’s final shot had lodged, and then without hesitation brought the gun up to his arm and pulled the trigger, sending the bullet through the soft flesh above the bone to create a non-lethal wound that sent him staggering anyway.

Thirty seconds later he was on the top level, slamming into the side of the truck having dodged the bullets that were flying in from every angle as Jon and Paul tried to stem the tide of his security forces. Crouching down he tapped Paul, catching the man’s attention with a drawn face and clutching his wounded arm with a bloody hand, the detonator in a death grip on his other arm. ‘We have to go!’ he yelled, and Paul nodded, standing immediately after letting another burst of gunfire go out, taking down two more security guards too slow to find cover.

‘Where’s Matt?’ Jon asked, hastily climbing in after Paul and Mike, being dragged inside by the former as he listened to Mike’s reply.

‘Rhodes found us as we were sorting the device,’ Mike said, using the pain in his arm to feed his voice, ‘he got a shot off at me and then Matt was after him – he told me to get out, we all need to get out.’ The earpiece in his ear, which he had replaced on the way back up, crackled as Graeme’s voice cut in; ‘Shadow knows what he’s doing, he’s finishing this – Sloth, get everyone out – now.’

‘How will Shadow–?’ Jon started, only to be cut off by Graeme once more. ‘HE’LL GET OUT BUT YOU WON’T IF YOU DON’T GODDAMNED MOVE!’ the Intelligence Eight chief yelled, and Ben gunned the engine, sending the truck forwards into the hailstorm of bullets from the remaining security teams. As Paul leant over to try and check Mike’s wound Jon shoved his way past, moving to the back of the truck and looking out of the two slit windows that were there, watching the entrance of the silo. ‘Come on… come on!’ he was muttering, even as Ben slid the truck around a corner, taking them out of sight of the battleground.

Up on the hilltop Tim could just about make out what was happening, and was now returning fire furiously, taking down every person who was offering resistance without mercy. A minute later the truck came flying through the gate, accelerating straight up the hill using every bit of grip that the shredded tyres could afford to gain the height. ‘You’re going to have to hold on!’ Ben warned Tim over the radio as the truck came within reach of him, and slinging Matt’s rifle onto his back Tim managed to leap up at the side of the truck, grabbing one of the railings that ran along the roof as Ben slowed temporarily, letting Tim secure his hold by locking his arm then roaring away up the rest of the hillside.

As the reached the top Tim let go, dropping to the side and rolling, and just beyond the crest Ben threw the handbrake on, brining the battle wagon around in a wide skid that tore up the grass leaving a trail of mud and dismantled sod.

From their vantage point at the top of the hill they could see right into the base; and could see the frantic swarm of the security forces now trying to get out before the inevitable result of the raid took place. Training the rifle on the entrance to the silo once more, Tim managed to glimpse it for only a second before a bright light suddenly filled his one eye, glaring brightly as he felt someone pull him back from the hill’s crest.

The shockwave hit a second later, throwing Tim and the others to the floor as a loud crack rent the air, the sound nearly deafening them. The tremor continued to shake the ground for a moment as Tim tried to rise on unsteady legs, throwing off the arm of whoever had pulled him away he walked back to the peak of the hill, coughing in the billowing cloud of thick grey dust that had formed as the explosion in the compound destroyed every building.

The silo was gone, replaced by a deep crater that was filled with charred earth, the area around it strewn with molten metals that burned into the ground, generating gouts of steam as they burrowed into the earth.

‘Shadow, come in,’ a voice said over the radio, and Tim’s dazed ears recognised Graeme, although his tone sounded beyond the normal calm and controlled one that Tim was now so used to hearing.

‘Shadow, report,’ Graeme said into his microphone, staring at the one remaining visual feed that was of any use, the thermals and other heat sensitive scans now reduced to red glares from the explosion.

Leaving Jon to hold the wounded Mike upward, Paul walked up to the top of the hillside where Tim was now kneeling, running the rifle’s scope back and forth frantically for any sign. With a firm hand Paul grabbed the barrel, and lifted the gun away from Tim, slinging it over his own shoulder as the other man continued staring down into the ruined valley.

‘Man down,’ Paul said quietly into his radio, before reaching down and cutting the signal.