William Weber - Zero Day

At last, Nate and Sanchez reached the eighth floor. What they found there was a veritable maze of offices and cubicles. Webs of shadow vanished and reappeared before the sweep of their tac lights.

In the distance, the warm glow of candles hinted at a presence up ahead. Nate and Sanchez moved forward, cautious, but ready.

They reached a large office filled with expensive oak furniture. In one corner behind a bookcase was the faintest hint of a door. It appeared to lead to another office, or perhaps to a bathroom. They were about to pull out when two figures emerged, their hands raised in the air. Nate leveled his weapon and saw Five. Next to him was Dakota, a piece of duct tape over her mouth. She was murmuring from beneath the tape, her eyes wide with terror. Or was that something else? The whole scene was downright confusing. He’d thought she was dead. But here she was, next to Five, and both of them prisoners, their arms up.

“Anyone turns around and you all die,” the gravelly voice said from behind them. Nate had only heard Jakes speak once, to a reporter after beating a murder rap in Chicago. But it was the kind of voice that sent bony fingers dancing up the back of your neck and that was precisely the feeling he had right now.

“Now, put your guns down,” Jakes ordered them.

Dakota shook her head vigorously. He didn’t need an interpreter to know she was telling him not to do it. The real question was whether or not he’d be able to draw his Glock and spin around before taking a bullet in the back. His right hand began inching toward his pistol grip.

“Why should we? You’re just going to kill us anyway,” Nate said, hoping to buy time. “Let Dakota and Five go and we’ll do it.”

A low laugh filled with menace. “You don’t really get it, do you? Five is the reason I knew you were coming.”

Nate glowered at the small man before him. “You rat!” he shouted.

“Nothing worse than a crooked cop, man,” Sanchez said with disgust.

Five cackled with laughter before pulling out a pistol from his waistband and aiming it at Dakota’s head. He tsked, wagging his index finger at them. “They still haven’t pieced it together, have they? Jakes doesn’t run Rockford. I do. He works for me. The chief and I were running things until he got put away. That left yours truly.”

Sanchez’s eyes widened in shock.

Five and Jakes both snickered. “Surprised, aren’t you? Now set your weapons on the floor, all of them.”

Nate and Sanchez did so. Soon two pistols and two assault rifles lay before them.

“Your backup gun too,” Five said, annoyed.

Nate grit his teeth and complied.

Five waved the barrel of the pistol wildly and then settled it against Dakota’s temple. She closed her eyes, and Nate couldn’t tell if she was praying or wishing for all of this to be over. “Your little friend here’s been trying to tell us she doesn’t know where her uncle keeps his cache of high-powered weapons. And until you came knocking, we were almost starting to believe her.” Five turned his attention to Nate. “I’m a reasonable man. A very generous man. You don’t believe me, ask Jakes.”

“It’s true,” Jakes said.

Five eyed Nate up and down. “A real go-getter. I respect that. I could use someone like you in my organization. Probably won’t come as much of a surprise, but ever since the power’s been off, business has been booming. So here’s the offer and I suggest you consider it carefully because I won’t be repeating myself. You help me get my hands on that cache of weapons dear uncle Roger’s been hoarding. In exchange, I’ll see to it you and your family live in Rockford like royalty.” Five pressed the barrel deeper into Dakota’s flesh. “And as a bonus, I won’t blow this pretty little girl’s brains all over that wall.”

Dakota began to mumble.

Five rolled his eyes and mocked Dakota’s attempt to speak from under the strip of tape covering her mouth. “She’s got a real mouth on her,” Five said, still basking in the glow of his own dumb joke. “You leave it up to me and I’d just as soon finish her off nice and slow.”

Dakota continued mumbling. Five reached over and tore back part of the duct tape covering her mouth. “What the hell is it? Can’t you see the men are conducting business? You just wanna chime in with your two cents, don’t you?”

“Yeah, and here they are,” Dakota snapped. “Screw you and your stupid offer.” In a blur of motion, she slammed both of her arms down on the hand Five was using to hold his pistol.

From behind Nate came a grunt of surprise from Jakes. Time slowed to a deadly crawl. Any second now, Dakota was going to be shot dead, along with Nate and Sanchez soon after. With the hatchet gripped tightly in his hand, Nate spun on his heels and swung it down, burying the carbon fibre blade into the top of Jakes’ skull. At once, the man’s eyes rolled up to whites and he let out a groan before crumpling to the ground. By the time Nate turned around, two stray shots rang out from Five’s gun as he and Dakota struggled over it. Then came a third shot. This time it was from Sanchez. Five let go and brought both hands up to his throat, blood rushing out from between his fingers.

Nate reached Five right as the crooked ex-cop hit the floor, writhing.

Sanchez came to join them and stumbled. Nate caught his friend, regarding him with a puzzled. Then they both glanced down at the same time to see the bloodstain blooming on Sanchez’s shirt.

“Oh, crap, man,” Sanchez said, sputtering blood. “The little prick got me.”

He tensed in pain and set himself down. Already the flesh on Sanchez’s face was growing pale, his lips a light shade of blue. Five’s bullet must have hit an artery.

“Just give me a minute,” Sanchez requested, as though a short break was all he needed.

“We gotta get you help,” Nate said, preparing to lift his friend up on one shoulder, his bum knee be damned.

Sanchez waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t be a fool, man. I won’t make it to the ground floor, let alone through all that snow.”

Nate could see the life draining out of him at a frightening pace. Sanchez gripped his hand. His fingers were already cold. An insane amount of blood was pooling on the floor beneath him.

His friend’s voice was down to a whisper. “I’m glad.”

Nate squeezed back. “About what?”

“That I stayed.” Sanchez smiled, squeezing something into Nate’s hand. It was the pendant of St. Christopher he always kept around his neck. “Hopefully this’ll do you more good than it did me. Now go get your family. And find somewhere they’ll be safe.” Sanchez barely got the words out before his grip loosened and then fell away.

By contrast, Five continued to sputter away on the floor nearby. Dakota remedied that particular inequity with two shots to the head from Five’s own pistol. This time, when the chips were down, she hadn’t been paralyzed with fear, Nate realized. At least some good had come out of all this death. He pulled her into a hug, sad for the friend he had lost and relieved for the daughter he had found.

With Jakes and Five dead, the two of them headed back to the lobby. The glass doors at the front entrance, shattered in the firefight earlier, were now letting in cold air and blowing snow. Their feet crunched on broken shards when they heard a weapon being cocked.

Both of them turned at once to see two fresh bodies on the ground, which was strange because Nate remembered only encountering three thugs in the lobby. Also observing the fresh carnage was a young man, somewhere in his late teens, early twenties, holding a pistol. He was one of Five’s men, clearly still ignorant that his boss lay dead up on the eighth floor. The kid fought to steady his quivering hands. Then from out of the darkness came a low, threatening growl. All three of them looked at once to see a pair of glowing eyes staring out at them from a deep pocket of darkness. Except that feral stare wasn’t locked on them at all. It was aimed at the young man with the gun.