The Omega Sanction by Andrew Scorah (the best ebook reader for android .txt) 📕

“... Purge commences in one...”

The door slammed shut behind them, cutting off the voice. Bane found he had been holding his breath. He took in a big gulp of air, looking back up the steps, hoping everyone had made it through.

They emerged from the stairwell in a large low ceilinged room, full of pipes, and what looked like a huge boiler at the far end.

The people, most of them scientists or technicians by the look of them, were milling around. Most looked confused, lost.

“How do we get to the vault from here?” Bane asked.

“I’ll have some of my men show you, you’ll need them, I’ve no doubt, Koenig’ll have a reception party waiting for you.”

Butcher called over to five of his men.

“You go with these boys, give them any help you can,” he turned back to Bane, “While you boys are retaking the vault, the rest of us will try to retake the rest of the base.”

“Get to Shiva control, then send a signal to Edwards, they’ll send in reinforcements.”

Butcher nodded, and then called out to the others.

“We’re gonna retake Groom people, there’s an armoury near here where we can get more weapons, let’s go.”

He looked to Bane, holding out his hand. Bane took it.

“You have some good luck, soldier.”

“And you, we’ll see you at the end of all this.”

Butcher nodded, then turned away, pushing through the crowd before anyone could complain, and led them away.

Bane looked at what was left of Omega. He noticed Jennifer and the professor had not gone with the others.

Kukri moved to his side.

“With Morgan gone we need a leader, and it looks like you're it, we’re just grunts, I’ve seen your file and you qualify for the position in my eyes.”

Bane did not know what to say, a couple of hours ago he was the new boy. Now he was being told he was in charge. It was a promotion he did not know if he wanted. He was looking at Trotsky, who just nodded at him.

“You got my vote...Boss.”

He turned to the recent additions, Butchers men. They all looked capable, tough looking individuals with eyes that told Bane they had seen combat.

“What’s your names?”

They introduced themselves as, Ian Graham, Matt Hunter, Stephen Shepard, Joe Garetano, and Curtis Lumley. All were members of the base’ internal security force, and ex Army Rangers.

“We need to get to the vault as fast as we can, but we can expect a sizable force waiting to greet us, so if you can get us as close as possible before they realise what’s happening would be great.”

“There is a way,” Graham said, “But it means some of us will have to distract them while the others go in.”

“Go on.”

“Through the air vents, the room is not a vault like in a bank so needs to be ventilated, you would have to go above where the defenders would logically be, that’s why the need for a diversion.”

“Sounds good, okay let’s move.”

With the ISF men taking the lead, alert for trouble, they moved out.

Bad Willy emerged from the shadow of the boiler housing, and stared after the departing team. He had been raging at the discovery of his brother's death, but now a kind of serene calm had descended on him.

Arriving at the prison wing too late to join the battle, he realised they may escape via the emergency exit, which he had discovered on his review of the complexes schematics.

He had secreted himself in time to see them enter the boiler room. Willy was not worried about them seeing him as he was wearing a quantum stealth suit, a kind of invisibility cloak which bent light around him.

As he had listened in on their conversation, a smile creased his hard features as a plan formulated in his mind.

The cup of coffee froze halfway between the table and her lips. Webb looked at the computer screen before her. She had found him.

Colonel Montague had escorted her to a windowless room in his basement. The only item inhabiting this room was a chair with a desk and a computer. He logged her in then left her alone. For the past couple of hours she had been trawling all her contacts, then did deep scans of NSA, CIA, and other alphabet agency databases.

She had found him buried deep within the files of a little known agency, Federal Security Adjunct. A body set up to provide deep cover protection for VIP Federal assets.

Two minutes later she was standing before Colonel Montague, presenting him with the sheets of paper she had printed off.

“What’s this?”

“The life story, and the current location, for one, Anthony Kemp, son of Dr Hans Kammler.”

“Interesting, but how can this help us?”

“Because Kammler is still alive, and living with his son in Roanoke, Virginia.”

Montague studied the top most document for a few moments.

“How’s this going to help us, Miss Webb?”

“Sir, Hans Kammler arrived in this country in 1965, and not by boat or plane.”

She went on to explain all about the Kecksburgh device being a time travel machine. She handed him the other folder containing the deep black security report she had managed to unearth on the incident.

“He may know what these guys are truly up to, and also how to get to the ones that sent them here, at least that’s what my gut instinct tells me.”

“This is amazing stuff Miss Webb. Well, I’ve got a wife and two daughters, and I learned long ago never to underestimate the instincts of a woman.”

He picked up the handset of the phone on his desk.

“Rogan, pack a bag, you're going on a trip.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

Chapter 22

They had travelled for about ten minutes, up stairwells, and along deserted corridors, when Graham called a halt. They were standing by the door marked ‘Maintenance Only’.

“This’s where we part company for now,” he indicated the door with his thumb, “The entrance to the vents in there, keep heading due West, you’ll eventually come out at the Vault.”

Bane shook his hand. The others saluted, and headed off at a trot along the corridor.

“Okay, this is nearly over,” he said, “Let’s get into the vent system.”

Kukri took a step towards the door, then froze. His features twisted in pain. Blood spurted from his mouth. Bane stared in amazement at the tip of a blade emerging from Kukri’s chest. His brain could not compute what his eyes were witnessing. The blade disappeared, and Kukri crumbled to the floor, he twitched once, then lay still.

Jennifer and the professor were knocked into the wall of the corridor. Trotsky spun, weapon raised. He too was sent flying back, hit by a fist Bane could not see. He crashed head first into the wall, out cold.

He went into a crouch, backing up, and aiming his weapon all around the corridor. There was nothing to shoot though. He heard someone laugh, a horribly triumphant sound.

His weapon was sent spinning from his grasp, and something slammed into Banes face. He went down on one knee. Another blow caught him on the side of the head. Dark motes danced before his eyes, like wind blown ash, and he tasted blood as he slammed into the hard floor..

His head was swimming, he knew they were under attack, and by someone using some kind of cloaking technology, but without a target, how could he fight back.

Something grabbed the front of his jacket, and he was hoisted to his feet. Bane swung a harsh blow that connected with air. He was flung back, smashing into the wall of the corridor. Another blow caught him as he was trying to get to his feet.

Through the fog in his mind, he saw Jennifer grab a fire extinguisher from a box on the wall next to the door of the vent access.

She ran towards him, and sprayed the air in front of her. The dry powder revealed a tall bulky figure before him. He drove out with his boot, catching the figure on the left ankle. It stumbled back. Jumping up, Bane drew his Glock. Three shots later, the figure was down, twitching but presenting no more danger.

“Are you all right? ” She said as she put down the extinguisher and came to him.

“Yeah, I’ll live. Thanks, you saved my life.”

Bane spat out blood before walked over to pull aside the material covering the body. The face he revealed was an exact match to the big blonde man he’d seen earlier in the lower levels. This must be his twin brother, no wonder he was pissed.

“I’ll be damned, how did you know?”

“I knew it could only be one thing. Billy showed me it once, the wearer is completely invisible, even to infra red, he told me a heavy coating of dust is its only downfall, they’re still trying to iron that out.”

“C’mon.”

They ran over, and helped the professor to his feet. Trotsky stood up, shaking his head.

“What happened?”

“Attack of the invisible man,” Jennifer said.

Bane checked Kukri, but it was already too late for him, he was dead.

“Just the four of us, there’s no way we can finish this now,” Jennifer said, her voice tinged with the futility of their situation.

“We still have a fighting chance, and now, with the release of the base personnel the odds are now stacked in our favour,” Bane said before leading them into the maintenance room.

“I love you Brit guys, always with the optimism,” Trotsky said as he trailed behind licking his wounds.

Charlotte Webb strapped herself into the seat in the rear of the chopper. The last thing she had expected was to be sent out with Rogan. She had been trying to explain she was not a field operative, but it had fallen on deaf ears.

Rogan climbed in next to her, and buckled in. He handed her a helmet with a microphone attached, and placed one on his own head.

Seconds later, they were airborne.

She gazed out of the window, and found herself wishing she had now taken the position with Senator Drake, instead of following the family tradition of the Intelligence services, her grandfather had been in the OSS, the forerunner of the CIA, her father, and brother were both in the NSA. Both were field operatives, while she had chosen to be one of the back room boys, an analyst.

Her reverie was interrupted by the crackle of her ear piece.

“One hour twenty and we’ll be touching down at Blacksburg, a car has been arranged for you.”

“So, we’re chasing a time travelling Nazi then,” Rogan said.

She looked at him, “Seems that way, he may have the answers to what is going on out at the ranch.”

“Yeah, Morgan and the boys have gone into some heavy shit, they’re good operators though.”

“What’s your role in Omega, Rogan?”

“I’m what you may call a troubleshooter.”

“What, you see trouble, and shoot it?”

He laughed, “Something like that, most of my work is protecting our investigators out in the field. Montague has assigned me permanently to you until this situation is resolved.”

“Rogan, got a call from Colonel Montague coming in, patching you through now.”

“Rogan here Sir.”

“You’re gonna have to abort landing at the airport, Federal officers are on the way here to arrest me on some trumped up charge, our other agents here are being pulled in, I can not contact our people out at Blacksburgh, so we have to assume they’ve been compromised. Carry on with your mission but keep a low profile.”

“Shit. Sir you can’t let them take you.”

“I won’t be here, I’m going off the grid, contact me at the usual place when you’re done. Montague out.”

“You get that?” He asked the pilot.

“Yes sir, don’t worry, I know a place where we can set down.”

Webb looked at him. Shock filling her face.

“What’s happening, Rogan?”

“Looks like someone is trying to shut us down.”

They had been pulling their way through the air-venting pipes for twenty minutes