T
he operative hugged the walls as he prepared himself for the last flight of stairs. He had recovered his breath, even if the sweating wouldn’t go away in time. Well, tough, he would simply have to play into that. He gripped the tie tighter in his hands and drew in a deep breath.
Four men. He could hear them talking, and from the sound of their voices, he could more or less place them on the steps. One stood near the door. Two more stood on the same step, three down from the door to the roof, with the fourth seated five steps below that. From the sounds, Jeremiah assumed that the man was probably playing something on his phone.
He needed to come up with a game plan. While he was well aware that any plan that he came up with would go to shit the moment the first punch was thrown, he still needed to have an idea of what he intended to do. He needed to create a mental picture of his progression through the four men, something that would give him the best chance to get through them before Carlson decided to come down.
Also, he wanted to avoid them having any kind of contact with anyone outside. He knew these kinds of people well enough. If he showed up with a gun or some other kind of weapon, they would go for their radios first. As it was, if he attacked them by surprise, their first reaction would be to help
their comrades before they reported it.
That was how it needed to happen. He couldn’t afford to have a veritable army of security coming down on his head at this point. He didn’t doubt that he would bash heads and trade bullets with these motherfuckers eventually, but he did want to keep it restricted to a time where he actually had some bullets to give back.
“Are you ready?” Anja asked through the earpiece.
“Are you sure you can’t block their radio transmissions?” he asked and tried to keep his voice as low as possible.
“I can run some interference, but I can’t guarantee that nothing will get through,” she replied. He nodded, concerned that the men on the stairs would hear him if he said anything more. She would run that interference. It was up to him to make sure that it wasn’t necessary.
“Do you actually have a plan?” she asked. He knew that she could see him. The stairs had cameras that were all connected to the central security system. He assumed that she would have a way to make sure that there was no evidence of him in the building, but he still needed to get in and out with the information they needed.
He gripped the tie in his hands, took a deep breath, and reached in deep for that cold, violent part of himself as he started up the steps. All attempts at stealth had been discarded as he stormed up the last flight of stairs and circled into view of the four men that guarded the door.
A quick assessment of the situation confirmed what he already knew. The man playing on his phone tucked the device into his pocket and took another step down. The others looked relaxed enough, but Savage could see the radios hanging from their hips. They didn’t look like they had any other weapons on them—no holsters on their belts or tucked under their suits. They could have been packing something tucked into their pants, but he doubted it.
Still, there was no sense in playing too fast or too loose.
“What are you doing here?” the man on the lowest stair asked and scowled at Savage. “This is a restricted area.”
“Dude, I work here,” he said and assumed a more submissive posture to hide the tie wrapped around his hand. “I always come up here for a smoke break. What the hell are you guys doing here?”
He noted a hint of confusion among the four men. They were all new and weren’t aware of which locations in or on the building were restricted to staff members. Their status as new members of security plus the confidence that he projected made them hesitant, which allowed Savage to take another couple of steps up the stairs without raising their alarm levels.
“Look, man,” the man at the top said and tried to be reasonable. “We were told to keep this place clear of all foot traffic, no exceptions. Can’t you find yourself another place to smoke this one time?”
“Come on, man, I hiked all the way up here from the twelfth floor,” he whined and ascended another step. “It’s one cigarette and I’ll be gone. I don’t even need to get out of sight of the door. I only have fifteen minutes off.”
He breathed deeply as he watched the man closest to him take another step down to stop him with a hand on his shoulder. He knew it was meant as a friendly gesture, to comfort him over the thought that he would have to hike all the way down and probably give up his smoke break.
Jeremiah honestly felt bad about what he was about to do to these men. They were honest, working-class citizens, some of whom were veterans. Brothers.
That said, he knew what he had to do, and they were in his way.
He reacted quickly at the same moment that the man’s hand touched his shoulder. The tie anchored by his hand worked as a leverage point and he slid it around his opponent’s wrist and
twisted it savagely. With a soft grunt of surprise, the man’s body was yanked around by the manipulation of his arm and shoulder and his head smacked into the railing to his left. The soft crunch was masked by the ringing sound from the brass railing.
Savage gripped the back of the man’s head and hammered it into the railing one more time for good measure.
The clock was ticking. Surprise would turn to annoyance and then into rage as the men saw their comrade take two hits like that. He had less than two seconds before he would have three men to deal with at one time.
He bounded up the three steps between himself and the two men who had begun to descend. The one closest to him leaned in to power a heavy haymaker at him. He used both hands and the tie between to hook the man’s wrist, drag it to the side, and throw him off balance.
One of the problems with having his hands bound in the same length of cloth was that he didn’t have much range in his striking ability. This forced him to replace momentum with balance to power his strikes.
On the bright side, he could bring a lot more speed to bear.
He came in close and hammered a series of three hard punches to his opponent’s stomach, aimed at the solar plexus. The air rushed from the guard’s lungs as he doubled over and tried to catch his breath. The operative didn’t give him the opportunity. As he twisted his body, his elbow hammered into the man’s temple. He crumpled without a sound.
Savage shifted as a fist collided with the side of his torso and grunted softly when he felt a stab of pain from his ribs. There wasn’t any cracking sound, so he could safely assume that nothing had broken with the impact, but it still hurt like a motherfucker. Which made it far more satisfying when his body spun out of instinct and his elbow lashed out to strike the man on the side of the head hard enough to make his elbow
ache.
The third guard lost his balance, and if the elbow hadn’t knocked him unconscious, the tumble down the stairs would have.
That left only one more. Who the hell said that plans were bad for a fight like this? Well, he was fairly sure that nobody in history had said that, but he could still feel a hint of pride in his work.
The fourth and last man standing looked at him and the realization that he might actually now face someone who was more than he could handle finally dawned on him. Based on that knowledge, he made the smartest move—one that had eluded the three men who hadn’t been quite as astute.
He reached for the radio at his hip.
“No, no, no,” Savage snarled as he bounded up the final few steps to the top and reached him as he raised the device to his head. It was old-school like most security systems were.
The operative looped the tie around the guard’s wrist and pulled it tight. He twisted and yanked hard and the man growled and cried out in pain. A gentle crack from his hand indicated that something had broken, and Savage hauled hard to drag his target closer to him.
The radio fell, clattered down the steps, and shattered on the way. That was one problem solved, at least. He wondered if the people around there would invest a little more intelligently and give their security personnel earpieces after today. Then again, they were all hired from a third party, so he sincerely doubted it. Pegasus would most likely hire a company that equipped their people better, though.
The man roared in pain and swung a hook at Savage’s head, which he ducked to avoid. He dragged the man’s trapped hand down and the rest of him followed, and he brought his right elbow up into his adversary’s torso with as much power as he could muster. It wasn’t much, but in the end, the security
officer’s momentum as he fell forward added the impetus needed. Ribs crunched and his lungs expelled his breath in a rush as he flailed and tried to pull himself in closer to avoid any further hits like that. It was a good tactic but one that required being on the losing end of the fight in the first place—and it was one the operative had trained for. You had to train to win. Everyone knew that.
Savage brushed his adversary’s good hand aside, shook him off, and released the broken wrist from the tie. In almost the same motion, he twisted on his back foot to hammer a hook behind the man’s ear. The guard’s eyes remained open, but they glazed over and gave him enough time to loop the tie around his neck and drag him toward the railing. With a grunt of exertion, he pushed him over.
A hint of guilt touched Jeremiah as the man dropped to the lower floor. He didn’t want to kill anyone there, but everything in his training had told him to push the beating to the extreme and really release his inner beast—the one he kept hidden from everyone, even Julia. He always maintained a tight hold on it and didn’t want to get used to feeling the rush that came when he handed out violence with utmost prejudice.
It was only a floor down. The guard gasped for breath as he came to again. He would have a concussion and a broken rib, and Jeremiah had to assume there were some other broken bones from the fall. But he would live. He’d seen softer people walk off with less.
Still, it was still a shitty feeling. He didn’t like it, but it was supposed to be what made him human or something like that. It was supposed to be a good thing, too.
He gritted his teeth. If he had time, he would make sure that someone brought medical help to make sure that they were all breathing. They would be able to sue their employers for their on-the-job injuries, which would pay for their medical costs and give them a good amount of money on top of that. They
might retire in relative comfort on that kind of money. Any company that wanted to keep hiring people would pay out without too much fuss.
It wouldn’t make up for the injuries, but in situations like this, you had to look for the silver linings. Otherwise, the world was simply the worst kind of mess with very few redeeming qualities. He unwound his hands from the tie and gripped the railing until he was sure they had stopped shaking.
“Are you all right?” Anja asked. She sounded more subdued over the little earpiece than she’d been the last time.
He could understand why.
“Yeah,” he replied and dragged in a deep breath. “I need to let the adrenaline wash away.”
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re kind of scary,” she said as he moved toward the door. “That was an inventive way to get rid of four guys. I only hope they’re all right.”
“Me too,” Jeremiah admitted. “Me too.”
He eased out onto the roof and stayed low enough that he wouldn’t be sky-lined. The sun was still out, even though it was well on its way to sinking toward the horizon. It hadn’t moved enough to splash the sky with colors, but he could feel a chill as the temperature changed.
It occurred to him again that he needed to get his hands on a gun—or some kind of weapon, at least. He felt naked without anything to fight back with except for what was now a blood-stained tie.
“You’re in range of his phone,” Anja announced, and he immediately stopped. “I’m starting the cloning now.”
Savage nodded and dropped into a crouch. This wasn’t his show anymore, it was hers. Any information that would come from this whole shindig would be a result of what she was able to get from his phone, which made him the muscle and her the brains.
It wasn’t like he hadn’t done it before. He breathed deeply
and released the tension in his shoulders, his jaw, and his hands. Right now, he needed to be relaxed. The exertions of the day had begun to tell on him. He still wasn’t at his peak, he realized, and that needed to change. His position as the muscle of the organization required him to actually function as the muscle. He rubbed his ribs and grimaced at a spike of pain as he did so. His wrists and arms ached too, and his knuckles had swelled, even though he had wrapped them.
Yep, he definitely needed to up his game if he wanted to fulfill his purpose in this organization.
“I’m done with the cloning,” the hacker said. “And it looks like our boy is headed back to the door, so if you feel like making an escape, now’s the time.”
Savage nodded, unsure if she could see him do it. He hadn’t seen any cameras on the roof, but he had some lasting paranoia about what satellites could see, thanks to some underrated spy films involving Gene Hackman—as well as who might be using them.
He peeled away from his cover and moved as quickly and quietly as he could toward the door. There was no doubt that he could beat Carlson there, especially since he could detect the very noticeable odor of nicotine. The man had taken advantage of his time up there to sneak a quick smoke in, which told the operative that the man was a little less settled about what was happening than one might think.
In a few moments, he made it to the door and pulled it gently closed before he jogged down to the stairwell. He paused for a moment to check that all the men were still down and alive. It took only a couple of seconds to gather their radios, just to be safe, and he threw them down the steps to break as he continued his descent.
“Could you alert someone to the fact that there are four men in the stairwell who are in need of medical assistance?” Jeremiah asked as he retrieved his jacket and pulled it on.
“Already done,” Anja said. “So long as you’re out of there in the next few minutes, our boys over there should make a full recovery. Do you think they’d be able to identify you to anyone who might ask?”
“I doubt it,” he said and increased his pace. He would have to get rid of the tie somewhere else. Obviously, he couldn’t return it to the locker that he’d taken it from. “In the heat of the moment, they won’t remember much of what they saw. They’ll recall the fact that I wore a uniform and maybe my hair color and basic features, but not much else. Especially with the concussions that some of them have, they won’t be reliable witnesses and probably wouldn’t recognize me if they encountered me on the street. Here’s where I cross my fingers that they’ll make a full recovery.”
“Cross your fingers?” Anja asked.
“Oh…it’s like…knocking on wood?” he said as he reached the fifteenth floor.
“Americans are weird,” Anja muttered.
“No argument there.” He gave himself a quick once-over to make sure that nothing about his appearance would draw any attention. Other than the light sheen of sweat that covered his body, nothing seemed out of place. He had to hope that it wouldn’t be a problem because if medical professionals scoured the stairwell, he couldn’t be found. With a deep breath, he pushed the door open and closed it carefully before he stepped back into the offices that he’d left behind.
Nothing looked different. People worked at laptops or talked on phones, held meetings, and conducted the businesses that were a part of their everyday lives. He made his best attempt to look normal as he moved to the elevator.
“You’re looking up what knock on wood and crossed fingers are, aren’t you?” he said quietly out the side of his mouth as the elevator arrived—thankfully, empty.
“Yes,” she admitted. “But that’s not the point. I’m working
on wiping any footage of your having been in the building. Considering the kind of crap security that these guys have protecting their local servers, it shouldn’t be too difficult.”
“I think they outsource all their security in this building,” Jeremiah observed as the elevator opened to the basement. He walked back toward the lockers and made sure to maintain an even pace, the kind that people did when they had finished a long day of work and didn’t want to be rushed yet were still in a hurry to get home.
“That’s the thing,” Anja said. “From my experience with these assholes, they’ve had everything locked up tighter than a baroness’ jewels. Yet a couple of weeks ago, everyone was moved off-site, and they brought in a bunch of cut-rate outsiders to handle it.”
“Did Carlson actually work with those guys I tussled with upstairs?” he asked as he stepped into the still-abandoned locker rooms.
“Yes, those were his personal boys,” she said softly.
“You’re not watching me change, right?” Savage asked as he yanked off the uniform that he’d sweated in.
“Sorry, Jer, no cameras in the lockers,” she responded and almost sounded disappointed. “So you’re not worried about all these changes that happened in the company just as Ceecee is taking control of it?”
“Ceecee?” he asked as he dressed in normal clothes.
“Courtney,” she replied. “As in, Monroe. As in your boss’ boss. I need to lay all this out for her. She might be walking into a trap with this whole company.”
“She’s undoubtedly walking into a trap,” Savage replied. “But that’s no reason not to spring the trap in question. She wants to know what it is that Carlson has planned. Now that she knows to be careful, it’s less likely that he’ll be able to take her by surprise.”
“And if he does anyway?” Anja asked.
“Well, that’s where I come in, right?” he replied with a small grin as he moved out of the locker rooms, now dressed in a pair of jeans and a bowling shirt. It hadn’t been necessary to change out of the heavy shoes that he’d come in wearing.
“Right. All the footage of you in the building is erased. I also went ahead and helped the folks in the security company that hired you to lose the paperwork that they had on you. There’s now no official trace of you having been in the building, and more importantly, nothing connecting you to anyone else there either.”
“A good day all around.”
“Although I would suggest that you leave the building as quickly as possible,” Anja warned him. “I received a notification from Carlson’s phone. He found the guys from your little fist party upstairs and has called someone, and it’s not the medical services.”
“What an asshole,” he said with a grin, but he increased his pace to a jog toward the exit. “Not as big an asshole as the guy who left them in that state in the first place, but still.”