Russell Brooks - Pandora's Succession

The guards closed the distance to about fifteen meters from him and Fox’s thumb slid over the button of the detonator. The guard to the left was a half step in front of the other. Fox would base his timing on that one. Right before the guard on the left reached twelve meters away, Fox pressed the button on the detonator and an explosion occurred further back in the lab. Fox dropped the detonator and simultaneously launched from his position. He kept low as he drove forward, swinging his arms rapidly as his knees pumped into his stomach. He straightened up prematurely-slightly reducing his forward momentum-as he swung his arms outward a split second before he was between both guards. In a double clothesline move Fox struck them both in their heads-flipping them onto the floor.

Fox used the impact from the second guard to pivot around while he drew his gun from his waistband. As he rotated, he fully extended his arm while the third guard was still in the process of aiming his rifle. Fox squeezed the trigger and watched as the guard’s head snapped back before he lifted off the ground. The guard had not yet hit the ground before he had Sveta’s captor in his sights. Fox pulled the trigger just as he saw a flash of light come from the guard’s rifle, quickly followed by a staccato noise and objects whistling by him. However, Fox’s shot was on target. He saw the guard go down, holding onto the trigger as he did, and shots pockmarked the ceiling and burst one of the pipes.

Sveta was crouched over with both hands covering her ears, as steam from the damaged pipe blew clouds of vapor around her. Fox saw that she was in shock and felt it pointless to yell for her to join him. He yanked her away-nearly dislocating her shoulder in the process. The floor shook as they ran-the chain reaction would catch up to them very soon. Fox heard staccato shots and Sveta cried out. It wasn’t long after that Fox realized he was pulling dead weight. Damn it, she’s been hit.

When he looked down at her, blood stained the back of her lab coat. Fox saw the perpetrator, lying sideways on the floor in the middle of the intersecting hallways. It was one of the two guards he had clotheslined. Why didn’t I kill that son-of-a-bitch?

A rumbling caused Fox to nearly lose his footing. Then bits of the ceiling collapsed around him, and a huge futon-sized block crashed down and crushed the guard before he was able to fire another shot.

“Sveta…Sveta.” Fox knelt down beside her. Still no answer. Shit, don’t die on me now. “Who set me up?”

She was gone.

When he looked over his shoulder, he saw a metal door sliding down from the ceiling. He broke out in a sprint and threw himself under it, seconds before it touched the ground. He was now outside, but still underground. A metal ladder was a few feet away. He ran for it and climbed to the top. He struck the wooden trapdoor hard, and it bounced once before settling open.

The scent of hay and fresh manure struck his nostrils as a small number of horses stomped and whinnied in their stalls. The ground shook, rattling the wooden walls of the stable they were in. A stable and a farmhouse fronting for an underground bio-weapons facility. Who would’ve guessed?

He climbed out onto the hay in the middle of the stall and ran for the door. The five horses in their stalls stomped and whinnied wildly at the tremors.

Fox ran out of the stable into the crisp, cool air, and stopped at the splintered wooden fence that bordered the driveway. He hopped over, turned left, walked six steps, turned right and walked another three. He knelt down on both knees and dug up a wallet-sized tracking device. Then he bolted across the moonlit field, to the woods where he’d hidden his motorcycle. He pressed a button on the tracker and followed the sounds of a huge flock of grasshoppers that died down a few seconds later. He then came to the camouflage net that covered his motorcycle. He yanked it off and lifted the seat. Underneath it was a lit dial pad. He punched in the numbers 062176, which was followed by a beeping sound and a click. He lifted the cover to remove a satellite phone and dialed a number. The phone on the other end rang once and then he heard the recorded greeting.

“Welcome to Spade Insurance. Please listen carefully for our menu options have changed.” Fox dialed in his code, 062176. The voice recording ended and there was a short pause. A pleasant voice with a slight Jamaican accent replied.

“How can I help you, Mr. Fox?” It was Marie Vasell, General Downing’s secretary.

“The lab’s destroyed. I need to speak to General Downing immediately. We’re going to have to scramble a team to Darfur ASAP. This so-called simple assignment I was given-it just got a whole lot more complicated.”

Odessa, Ukraine, 8:57AM, the day after

The gentleman stubbed out his second cigarette in the ashtray. The outdoor terrace to the cafe he was at was one of many in this tourist area of the city, within walking distance of the Black Sea.

He wasn’t in town to enjoy the eighteenth and nineteenth century architecture, or the popular beaches. Even back in the days as a KGB operative he rarely took the time to enjoy himself in many of the places his work took him. But those days were long gone. Although he had several aliases, he was best known as Valerik. This was the ideal place for him to meet his Ares colleagues, the first time since getting back from the bombed out facility near Groznyy, Chechnya.

Valerik recognized his ride, as the black, fleet-sedan stopped several feet away. As he got up, his protruding gut bumped the table, a constant reminder of how much weight he had gained since his deactivated status as KGB. It was then that he noticed a black espresso stain on his white shirt. Had the spill been on his brown jacket it would be better concealed. But he left it unbuttoned since it fit him more comfortably. He grabbed his handkerchief and dipped it into a glass of water belonging to another patron as he walked by. He worked on the stain, ignoring the angry protest behind him.

A man dressed in an overcoat stepped out of the front passenger seat to open the back door for him. An overcoat in this weather? He might as well have placed a sign on his forehead that read I’m hiding a gun. Valerik got in and sat down beside his white-haired superior, who was also a former KGB operative. The doors shut and the car drove off.

“What’s your assessment of the Groznyy lab?” asked the white-haired man in Russian.

“The laboratory was on lockdown, indicating Pandora was unleashed inside. I didn’t dare use the override codes to open the blast door to inspect the damage,” Valerik replied in the same language.

“You should’ve gotten there quicker. We’d be rid of Fox once and for all. Now he’s gotten away, along with how much intelligence on us? Only God knows.”

“The guards reported they had captured him. Apparently Stechina helped him escape.”

“Of course she did, just as she led Fox to our lab.”

“We still have our satellite laboratories-”

“Which we’ll have to abandon immediately,” the white-haired man took out a larger than normal pen-like object and twirled it.

Valerik looked away from him, out the window to hide his frown. That damn toy of his. He couldn’t stand seeing him play with that pen.

“With Fox’s escape, those locations may be compromised. See to it that Pandora’s taken to another location until we can set up some new satellite laboratories.”

Valerik looked back to his superior. “I can do that. In the meantime, we should delay the demonstration.”

“If we do that, we risk losing the confidence of our clients-and the billions that Pandora could bring in for Ares.”

“What if Fox knows the location of the demo? If he disrupts it, we’ll lose our clients for sure. We should send a few of our men to accompany our clients while they set up Pandora to be tested.”