The Omega Sanction by Andrew Scorah (urban books to read TXT) 📖

this section, and the next. Hypos took Billy with him to check the other sections.”

Morgan nodded, “See if you can’t scout up some weapons around here, there’s bound to be an armoury.”

“Okay boss, there are some rooms in the other landing that could be a weapons store.”

Dr Connelly was standing by a cell door half way along the landing, talking to the men inside. Bane walked over to her.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she nodded, “I was talking to one of the men in this cell, he’s a physicist, Professor Horatio Guyler, he’s been listening to the guards chatter. I think you need to hear what he has to say.”

Bane called to Morgan who walked over to join them. The cell door slid to one side to reveal four men in white lab coats. Cyclops had found the controls.

The complex staff emerged from the other cells, and was soon milling around the Omega team, wanting to shake their hands, and asking if it was all over.

“Stay here, professor while we get this crowd under control, I’ll need to speak with you,” Morgan said.

Trotsky pushed his way through the crowd of bodies, a man in the uniform of an airforce policeman followed behind.

“Boss, this’s Sergeant Bob Butcher of the 820th Base Defence Group, they’re tasked with internal defence of Area 51. He’s eager to kick some butt without taking any names.”

“Morgan shook Butchers hand, “Good to meet you Sergeant, I’m Morgan of Omega team, and we’re not out of the shit yet.”

“Your man here filled me in, where do you want me and my men? There’s twenty of us on this landing.”

“Well, we need to set up a perimeter guard for now, and someone needs to establish some order in here, only weapons spare though are with the dead.”

“That’s okay, there’s an armoury down that corridor,” he indicated past the staff room.

Butcher pointed to four men nearby, ordering them to fetch weapons and ammo, to another four he put on crowd control duty.

“Is that all, sir?” He asked, turning back to Morgan.

“For now, Sergeant.”

Morgan returned his attention to Guyler.

“Now, I’m told you may have some Intel for me?”

The oldest of the four in the cell stepped forward. He pushed up the wire framed spectacles which had slid down his nose, and coughed.

“Yes sir, with nothing to do but twiddle our thumbs, we took to listening to the conversations of our captors when ever they were in ear shot.”

“Go on,” Morgan said.

“They are planning to use the Kecksburgh device to take them back to Hitlers bunker, under the Reich Chancellery.”

“We’d already figured they were after that device, even though I’m having a hard time believing they can make it work.”

They were interrupted as Butcher’s men returned with weapons and ammo crates.They began dispersing them to the former prisoners, before assigning them positions. Morgan watched them go, before turning back to the professor.

“Oh, they can, the bell is already set up and functioning, waiting for the right mixture of fuel, and it’s travelled through time before, there’s no reason for it not to be able to do it again.”

“So, they want to go rescue Hitler eh, that’s their game.”

“No, no, no, they are after what Hitler knows, something about a super weapon that was never activated at the end of the war. Something more powerful than the two bombs dropped on Japan, and anything we have today. I’ve also worked with the device, and have some understanding of its capabilities.”

Bane and Morgan looked at each other. Both knew if Staat got their hands on a device like the one Guyler had just described, the world would indeed be in trouble.

The sounds of distant gun fire echoed down the landing. Trotsky emerged from the door leading to the next set of cells. He jogged down the landing to them.

“We got trouble, a large force is coming from the other side of the prison level.”

“How many exactly?”

“The whole lot of ‘em I think. Butchers men are holding them back for now. He said not to worry and he’ll hold them off for as long as he can while we make a break for the vault.”

The door they had used to enter the prison section crashed open. Black clad troops burst through, firing.

Bane dived into the nearest cell. He saw Morgan go down. Bullets shredding him to pieces. Trotsky made it into the cell across from him. He managed to pull in the professor and Connelly. The professors cell mates were not so lucky. There was no sign of Cyclops or Kukri. The other prisoners still on the landing were cut down before they had a chance to react.

Bane risked a look. The troops had taken cover in the doorways of the open cells.

“The boss is down,” Trotsky said as he risked a shot at one man who leaned out of his cover to far. The bullet struck his chest, knocking him out of the cell.

The sounds of boots on the landing above signalled the arrival of more Staat forces. Bane knew they were about to be caught in a pincer movement. They were indeed in the shit, and to be swallowed up.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER FOUR

Chapter 19

 

The sound of her footfalls echoed off the garage walls as Charlotte ran for her life. With her heart ponding and her brain travelling at a hundred miles an hour, she reached the exit-ramp. Not daring to look behind her she bounded upwards.

She had no idea if the assassin was behind her or not, she dare not look. All her focus was placed on escape.

She rounded the curve of the ramp which terminated at the security shed. Feeling a little safer with the barrier and shed in sight, she called out Martin’s name.

A man in a black ski mask and dark clothes stepped out of the door. Time slowed down for Charlotte as horror filled her to the core. The man raised a pistol in her direction. She looked over her shoulder to see the man she was fleeing from limp around the curve.

The squeal of tyres from the road diverted the mans attention. He half turned to see a blue Pontiac Firebird coming towards him. The car hit him behind the legs. He flew through the air. Slamming into the wall of the ramp.

The car screeched to a halt in front of Charlotte who stumbled back. Losing her footing, she fell to the ground.

The drivers side door opened. A man climbed out. He raised the pistol in his left hand, and shot the attacker behind her.

“Quickly, get in the car.”

Not wasting anytime, she jumped to her feet, and got in the passenger side. Luckily, she had been able to hold onto her purse.

The man took one look around then climbed in next to her. He reversed out onto Prospect Road and headed east.

Neither of them spoke until he turned the car onto Key Bridge over The Potomac River.

“Thank you, who ever you are, but you can drop me off on the other side of the bridge.”

“Are you okay, Miss Webb?” He asked, ignoring her request.

“Shaken up, but otherwise okay. How do you know me? And who are you?”

She had no feeling of threat from him. So allowed herself to relax but kept one hand on her Kubotan in case of trouble.

“I’m your guardian angel, Miss Webb. The organisation I work for found out you were marked for special measures, because of the report you drafted. I’ve been sent to bring you in.”

“What organisation, and who’s put me down for special measures?”

She knew what special measures meant, marked for death. She was confused. The report was deemed of no real importance at the time, yet suddenly it had become hot property because of something Staat had done, no one would tell her though. When she asked she had the same cliched answer, it was beyond her pay grade.

“I work for Omega. My boss, Colonel Montague needs your help in tracking down where Geheime Staats base of operations is located.”

Charlotte thought she knew all the security agencies based in and out of Washington, she had never heard of Omega. Nonetheless, the vagaries of Washington's intelligence infrastructure were as convoluted as a Chinese puzzle.

“I’ve never heard of Omega, I thought I was aware of all intelligence departments, who are you under, NSA, Treasury? I know you're not CIA.”

The man’s eyes kept flicking to the rear-view mirror as they drove along Fort Myer Drive.

“We have a tail, three cars back, the black van.”

She looked in the wing mirror on her side, and got a glimpse of the van he had described.

“Hang on, let’s see if I’m right.”

He increased speed, dashing through the intersection of 19th and Nash. Horns sounded from disgruntled drivers. She checked the mirror again. The van had sped up also. Manoeuvring around the cars in front.

The man nodded to himself as he checked the rear-view again.

For the first time, Charlotte noticed he was wearing a bluetooth device in his ear. He touched it to activate transmission.

“Rogan here, I’ve got some hangers on, need some interference.”

He listened to whoever answered before saying thanks.

Buildings blurred by as they led the van through a series of twists and turns. Some minutes later they turned onto 2nd Street on Capitol Hill. A leafy suburban street, lined with town houses.

The man, Rogan, slowed the Pontiac, allowing the van to catch up. Charlotte glanced through the rear windshield to see the van creep up, almost touching their bumper. It looked as though the vehicle was on the verge of ramming them. She braced for impact. A car shot out of a drive-way on their left. It hit the van. The left side crumpled, and the vehicle swerved across the road, smashing into a concrete post on the opposite side.

Rogan put his foot down. The crash site receded behind them. Charlotte did not realise that she had been holding her breath. She let it out, and slumped back in her seat.

“Okay, Rogan, or whatever your name is, I want answers or I’m opening this door and jumping out.”

“No you won’t,” he laughed, “Okay, Omega is not under any department, we are an autonomous agency, formerly under the auspices of the United Nations. We have a special dispensation to operate worldwide, where ever we are needed.”

He paused in his explanation while steering through traffic, and turning onto Glebe Road.

She stayed silent, waiting for him to continue.

“Your new boss, George Hartz, has ordered the special measures against you, but we believe he is having his strings pulled by others.”

That came as a shock to her. She thought he was a bit anal-retentive when she first met him but apart from that he seemed okay.

“So, what have Geheime done that has made what I know so important all of a sudden?”

He looked at her.

“You don’t know?” He asked, surprised.

“Er, no, that’s why I asked the question.”

He returned his gaze to the road.

“They’ve taken control of Area 51, our Direct Action team has managed to infiltrate the base after military intervention failed.”

Her mouth dropped open, “Holy Christ, why the fuck wasn't I listened to. If my report was actioned...”

“It never had a chance. Geheime have a reach that goes beyond any terrorist organisation seen before, more will be explained when I get you to the colonel.”

She settled back in silence, a million thoughts whizzing through her mind.

 

Koenig allowed himself to feel a thrill of excitement as Hoffman shut down the controls. Now was the moment they found out if the device truly worked.

Hoffman flicked a switch to lower the shielding.

It returned to its place in the floor revealing the four men standing as before the shield had been put in place. They appeared unharmed.

At first Koenig thought the device had failed, that the men had gone nowhere, simply remained behind the shielding.

The four stepped out, looking bewildered.

“Report.”

“Mein Gott, it worked, mein Fuherer,” one of the men said.

“We were in the garden of the Reich Chancellery...Amazing,” another adds.

Koenig