The Milestone Protocol Ernest Dempsey (best short novels of all time .txt) 📖

Desmond instantly reached for the phone in his pocket. He clumsily fumbled it as he pulled it out, nearly dropping it. He pressed the power button on the side and then swiped the screen to do a manual shutoff of the device. Within seconds, the screen went black. His heart raced and his breathing sped up. He could see the same nerves were causing similar reactions in his two friends.

“We need to get out of their line of sight,” Corin said, even as she began withdrawing silently into the shadows of the forest.

“Yeah,” Diego agreed and retreated as well.

Desmond followed suit, sliding backward and away from the two men at the front of his home.

The three didn’t say anything until they were well within the confines of the woods, and even then they spoke in hushed tones.

Once the last of the homes was out of view, the group finally stood up straight and picked up their pace as they continued away from the neighborhood.

“If they are here because of what I sent Tommy,” Desmond said, panting, “that means the FBI is tracking Tommy’s phone, too.”

“But he’s on the other side of the world,” Diego argued, surprisingly not out of breath.

“Maybe that doesn’t matter,” Corin offered. “My concern is why the”—she hesitated to say it and again rolled her eyes at the thought—“feds would be tracking his phone. He doesn’t break any laws.”

“Maybe he has something the government wants,” Diego theorized. “Who knows what kind of artifacts they keep down in their basement?”

“We do,” Desmond and Corin countered at the same time.

“We’ve been there a few times before,” Desmond added on his own.

“That’s true,” Diego admitted. “But we’ve all heard the stories. About how they keep mummies down there and maybe alien stuff.”

“They’re called urban legends for a reason, Diego.”

“I didn’t say I believed them.” Diego sounded hurt, but only slightly. “Besides, it’s possible they have another vault or lab we don’t know about. There’s no telling how deep the IAA building goes underground, and they didn’t show anything to us of the upper levels. Tommy claims only a handful of people work there. Then why do they need that much space, and in a prime spot in downtown Atlanta?”

Corin and Desmond snickered uncomfortably.

“It’s a fair point,” Corin offered. “It would make sense that they keep other artifacts somewhere else in the building with all that space.”

They merged onto a deer path and continued deeper into the forest. The first time Diego and Corin had seen deer so close to large human populations had been a surprise to both of them. Sometimes the deer would even sneak into neighbors’ backyards to graze, seemingly unafraid of humans.

“Whether or not Tommy didn’t show us all the goodies doesn’t matter,” Desmond argued. “What matters is that the FBI was watching his phone. Either way, you just gave me an idea.”

“What’s that?”

Desmond looked around the forest, noting the churning sky overhead as it seemed to darken every second. “It’s going to be evening soon. Which means it’s going to get colder. If those people were FBI and they have questions about our message to Tommy, I’m not so sure we should answer.”

“They’re the FBI, Dez,” Corin said. “Don’t we have to do what they say?”

“Probably. But we owe it to Mr. Schultz to trust him. After all, he trusted us.”

“Okay,” Diego conceded. “But what do you mean if they were FBI?”

Desmond smiled at his friend. “I don’t know. Just call it a hunch for now. But that brings me back to the idea you gave me.”

“I didn’t give you an idea.”

“Sure you did. Talking about the IAA lab?”

Diego’s face lit up at the realization. “Tara and Alex.”

“Bingo. You have their number?”

“Already on it,” Corin said. “I’ll call them now.”

21

Stockholm

Sean plucked the radio from the nearest body and held it in his left hand before scooping up two more magazines from the man’s belt. He released the nearly spent magazine from the gun well and replaced it, then shoved the last full one in his pocket.

He knew there would be people watching the hotel exits and hoped there wasn’t a spotter or a sniper on one of the other rooftops, though if that were the case he’d probably already be dead.

Sean pried open the door to the stairwell and stabbed his gun through the crack, sweeping from left to right. The area was clear. He listened intently for several rapid heartbeats, but didn’t hear anyone else coming up the stairs.

Moving faster, he flew down the staircase to the next level, passing the landing between the floors, then continuing beyond the floor where Tommy’s penthouse was located. His plan was simple in design, but he knew it was risky.

Sean stopped at the floor below the top and listened again. No sounds below.

A voice through the radio interrupted the silence.

“Unit two, report in.”

Right on time.

Sean hurried down the next set of stairs and stopped at the landing. Using his best Swedish accent, he replied, “We need backup. Send backup. Repeat. Send backup.” He added a sense of urgency to the command and then continued down the stairs until he reached the next floor. There, he opened the door into the hallway, and peeked inside.

With his weapons concealed by his winter coat, Sean stepped into the corridor and casually ambled toward the elevator.

He heard the commotion on the radio as the team below barked orders for another unit to make their way up to the top.

They would take the stairs, which would leave the elevators open. If he were lucky, or simply wise with his planning, the last of the enemy below would be watching the exits with a skeleton crew.

Sean arrived at the elevators, pressed the call button, stepped back, and waited.

He heard laughter from down the hall and turned to see a young couple, probably in their late twenties, emerge from one of the rooms, arms over shoulders, stumbling toward the elevators. Sean pressed the button again, this time repeatedly in the hope