Shadow Tyrants Page 14

  “Because he’s insane,” Carlton said. He didn’t add that the video of Torkan had been doctored by his media people to insert the Iranian’s face into the scene. It was just Carlton’s hunch that Mallik had been the one behind the sabotage of the Colossus 5, but he’d needed something concrete to push the others in the Nine to turn on him.

  “Two thousand years of waiting and planning,” Gupta said with a whimper, “and then the Nine is destroyed in an instant by one of our own.”

  “We don’t need them anymore,” Carlton said. “You and I can complete the project ourselves. We have everything we need to finish it.”

  “What about the other members? They’ll be missed by their own people.”

  “You forget that I own a news organization. We’ll figure out a way to make their absences go unnoticed or explained until we can activate Colossus. After that, the announcement of their deaths will just be a tragic addition to the news cycle, and we can shut down any subsequent investigations.”

  “Does Mallik know where the Colossus ships are right now?”

  Carlton shook his head. “No, I made sure to keep that information from him. There’s no way for him to find them. I even convinced Saidon to move the Colossus 5 to an undisclosed location to install the replacement satellite dish.”

  “And you’re sure Jhootha Island won’t lead back to us?”

  Carlton grinned. He wasn’t upset at all about what had just happened. In fact, Mallik did him a favor by culling his partners.

  “I wasn’t lying to Mallik when I said that I issued the code for the self-destruct protocol. Jhootha Island will be but a distant memory by the end of the day.”

  * * *

  —

  “That was bold of you,” Torkan said as he led Mallik to their own exit tunnel from the Library.

  “Eliminating the other Unknowns will give us some breathing room,” Mallik said, still surprised at his own impulsive act.

  “I think Carlton made it out with his assistant. Gupta, too.”

  “Even if they aren’t all dead, it’ll take them time to regroup from that mess.”

  When they reached the opening to the exit tunnel, the anxious guard stationed there asked Mallik and Torkan what the screaming had been about, but he didn’t get an answer. Torkan viciously chopped him in the throat and took his weapon. The guard fell to his knees, his windpipe collapsed.

  “The other guards will come after us,” Mallik said, looking at the dead man. “Even you can’t kill all of them. They’ll catch us before we get off the Library property.”

  “No they won’t,” Torkan replied. He took the guard’s guns and removed two wicked-looking knives from his belt and said, “Let’s go.”

  Mallik didn’t ask what Torkan had in mind. Strategic thinking was Mallik’s skill, tactical creativity was Torkan’s. Mallik simply followed him into the passageway, where they took off at a trot.

  As they got close to the end of the long tunnel, the sound of footsteps pounding behind them echoed off the stone. Torkan let loose a volley from his gun while Mallik activated the lion heads control. The barrier slowly lowered, and they dove to the ground to avoid the guards’ bullets that were pinging off the corridor walls.

  By the time the barrier reached the floor, Torkan’s ammo was gone. They’d be chased down outside long before they got to their waiting car and executed on the spot.

  They stepped across the barrier as it started to close with the rising water. Torkan turned and shoved the blades of each knife he’d taken from the dead guard into the narrow gap between the barrier and the wall.

  The hardened steel of the knives squealed as the barrier came to a stop. The knives acted as wedges to keep the barrier from rising to seal off the passageway. Water began to gush over it. The temporary dams holding back the water from the canal were already starting to drop.

  They ran up the steps and out onto the dry path. Mallik looked back, and the dams had disappeared from sight. Water was now flooding into the tunnel at a fearsome rate. The guards behind them would almost certainly drown before they could make the quarter mile back to the Library.

  “Quick thinking,” Mallik said as they headed back to their car.

  “Carlton will come at us with everything he can,” Torkan said.

  “I know. Now we’re in a race against each other.”

  Torkan silently nodded, his expression somber. He knew the stakes. Whoever won would change the course of civilization forever.

  TWENTY

  JHOOTHA ISLAND

  Lyla Dhawan walked three paces in front of her guard as she had every day for the past six months. When she’d first arrived on the island eighteen months ago, they gave her much more freedom to explore. She knew how futile it was to make an escape attempt from one of the island’s beaches, yet she tried several times anyway. Now she’d been reduced to having a guard watch her every step during her single thirty-minute walk to the beach and back.

  She kept telling herself it could be worse. The guards had been instructed not to harm or harass the prisoners, and she’d been well fed during her entire stay. She was even occasionally given perks like candy and DVD movies for good behavior or excellent work. But this was a prison all the same. Lyla had no doubt that once she was no longer useful to Project C, she would die in this lonely place.

  She thought that might be soon. Every day for twelve hours, she’d sat in front of a computer screen, writing code based on her expertise in pattern recognition software. Like everyone else who’d been on Xavier Carlton’s plane, she was one of the top technicians in the world focusing on various elements of artificial intelligence. She didn’t know many of the details about Project C, but it was clear their work was critical to the project’s success. Now the amount of their work was winding down.

  Lately, she’d spent many hours in front of her terminal doing nothing. In fact, it seemed like they were being kept around just as insurance in case adjustments needed to be made to the software. Then three weeks ago, she’d overheard one of the guards talking to another about something he called Bedtime.

  At first, she thought it was some sick joke about their living quarters, which were spartan. But as she caught more tidbits here and there, Lyla began to understand that Bedtime was a code word. It would be issued when the guards were supposed to wipe out all traces of what had happened on the island.

  That meant executing all the prisoners as well. And she knew the guards would do so without hesitation after seeing what happened the first day she got here.

  After being knocked out by the gas in the cockpit of the Airbus A380, she was unconscious until they had landed. She groggily careened down the emergency slide with the ninety-seven other people who had been kidnapped. The only person missing had been Adam Carlton, who was brought out in a body bag after his deadly head injury.

  The confused and upset passengers were separated into two equal-numbered groups for seemingly no reason. An array of guards with automatic weapons stood behind a striking woman in her thirties. She addressed the passengers in an emotionless voice and with an icy glare. The scene was so chilling and surreal that Lyla would never forget it.

  “You’ve been brought here for one reason only,” their lead captor had said in her posh British accent. “You all have knowledge and access that we need. As you’ll find out tomorrow, any thoughts of escape are pointless.”

  She’d been right about that, Lyla recalled. In her first escape attempt, she built a huge pile of coconut husks and driftwood and then set it on fire hoping someone would come to investigate it and liberate them. But it was soon snuffed out, and nobody came to the rescue.

  Her second attempt had consisted of surreptitiously gathering enough driftwood and palm fronds over the course of weeks to build a crude raft. She didn’t know where in the world they were. It could be anywhere from the Caribbean to the South Pacific, but she
was sure they were in tropical waters. If she could paddle her way to a shipping lane, she might be saved.

  Lyla managed to sneak out one night, lash together her raft, and push it out to sea. She made it across the atoll and into open water, but only got a half mile offshore before a Zodiac zoomed out to pick her up. She’d been put in solitary confinement for three months after that. Again, though, it could have been worse.

  The British woman had continued her speech as if she were the Kammandant of a concentration camp. “I want to impress upon you the gravity of your situation. Whole countries are searching for you, but none of them will find you.” She gestured to the carefully hidden airliner above them. “The world thinks this plane was shot down in a terrorist incident off the coast of Iran. Pieces of it will be found, but you won’t be. Eventually, they will give up searching for it. And you.”

  “What’s this all about?” one of the passengers yelled out. Some of them advanced like they were going to start a fight, but the guards raised their weapons at a flick of the Brit’s finger. The rebellious passengers stepped back.

  “We have a very special project for you to work on. You are some of the best minds from the tech sector and academia. With your help, we will accomplish something that will change the future of our world.”

  “Then why not just hire us?” Lyla asked.

  “Because we need more than just your expertise,” the Brit replied. “We need your access. By the end of the day tomorrow, we will have full penetration of the computer files in your various organizations. Everyone thinks you’re dead. Any glitches your institutions find in their computer systems will be attributed to software malfunctions. None will suspect that you’ve aided us in hacking into your own databases. The top secret information that we acquire will save us years of work and will be the catalyst we need to finish the project. That is, of course, if you help us.”

  “And if we refuse?” Lyla said. A few people grunted their agreement.

  The Brit’s lip curled in a frightening grin. “I don’t think any of those who are left will refuse.”

  She turned slightly and nodded.

  The guards took aim at the other group. Just before they fired, Lyla had the horrifying realization about what was going to happen.

  The guards fired at the helpless passengers just a few yards away from her. They were mowed down in cold blood while the survivors screamed in terror. Lyla might have been screaming the loudest. She clutched the nearest woman and hugged her close, sobbing together about the appalling sight they’d just witnessed.

  The Brit was unfazed by the carnage. Her lack of empathy was sickening.

  “Those people were not useful to us. I hope this shows you what we will do if you don’t cooperate. We will not hesitate to make more examples. Do your work and you will be treated fairly. That is all.”

  The Brit then nodded to the lead guard and turned to leave. Lyla hadn’t seen her again, but she’d never forget that dead-eyed stare.

  Since then, she’d never given up the hope of seeing her parents again, but that hope was diminishing with every passing day. She tried to enjoy the simple things, like this excursion out into the sunlight, stomping through the mud, smelling the ripe odor of the flora damp from the fresh rainfall.

  When they got to the beach, the guard, an Indian, took out a cigarette for his ritual smoke. Lyla often tried to talk to whoever was with her to see if she could build a rapport that would someday work to her advantage. She didn’t feel like it. She sat on the sand and ran her hands through the fine grains while she stared at the calm ocean. She always looked for signs of a ship, hoping that this would be the day that someone would see her being held captive by an armed man, but today was no different. The sea was empty to the horizon.

  The guard’s radio squawked, and he dropped his cigarette into the pile with the rest of the butts.

  “Can’t I have a little peace for a minute?” he complained to the caller, lifting his cap to wipe his brow. He looked at Lyla. “She’s even being quiet, for a change.”

  “We just got the word,” came the reply. “It’s Bedtime.”

  Lyla stiffened when she heard the word, but she didn’t look at the guard. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him stand up straighter at the news.

  “Really? No drill?” Lyla remembered the drills where they were hustled back to their cells as part of the protocol.

  “Really. Get back here with Dhawan. Now.”

  “Affirmative,” the guard said into the radio. Under his breath, he added, “Finally.”

  “Let’s go,” he said to Lyla.

  She remained motionless as her mind raced for what she could do.

  “I haven’t had my full time out here.”

  “I don’t care.”

  She stayed seated, options flashing through her mind, none of them good.

  “I said, let’s go,” the guard repeated. “Don’t make me haul you up.”

  She slowly got to her feet, watching the guard as she did. His attention was focused on getting back to the facility, and he still had his assault rifle slung idly around his shoulder. He didn’t think she’d know that today was any different and would dutifully return with him.

  But if she was going to die on this day, she might as well do it out in the sunlight.

  Lyla rushed at him and grabbed for the rifle. She yanked it off his shoulder before he realized what was happening, but the larger guard countered quickly. He elbowed her arm, and the rifle flew onto the beach. She tried to go after it, but he clasped a strong hand around her wrist.

  A vague recollection of her self-defense training came back, and she kneed the guard in the groin. He doubled over in pain, letting her go in the process. She dove for the gun, but she’d only fired a pistol on the gun range a couple of times with an old boyfriend, never a rifle of any kind. Even if she got it, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to use it.

  She stopped scrambling when she heard the click of a hammer being pulled back. She rolled over and saw the furious guard pointing his sidearm at her. The barrel of the semiautomatic pistol in her face looked huge.

  “Enough of that!” the guard yelled. He slowly circled around and picked up the assault rifle, his aim never wavering. “I should kill you right here.”

  She got to her feet and sighed in resignation over her fate.

  “Then why don’t you? I know what Bedtime means. You’re going to destroy the whole place and murder us all, aren’t you?”

  His eyes flickered in surprise.

  “Then go ahead!” Lyla shouted. “Shoot me!”

  He smiled and shook his head. “And lug your dead body all the way back? Too much work.”

  “I’m not moving, so you might as well pull the trigger.” Lyla stared at him in defiance and steeled herself for the shot.

  The guard shrugged and walked toward her, the pistol right in her face. “If that’s the way you want to do this.”

  He never got to pull the trigger. A crossbow bolt zinged past Lyla’s head and pierced the guard’s eye. He went down so fast it was like he’d been switched off.

  At first, Lyla thought she’d been saved from certain death, but then she realized how crazy that idea was. Nobody knew they were there except for the people who’d ordered the Bedtime protocol.

  They weren’t just wiping out the prisoners. They were going to kill everyone on the island, the guards included.

  To her right, she saw movement. A tall, blond man in combat gear emerged from the jungle holding an automatic weapon. He smiled at her and said, “Hi there. My name’s Juan. And I’m here to—”

  He didn’t finish speaking because Lyla bent down and picked up the guard’s pistol. Without waiting to hear more, she aimed it at this guy called Juan and fired three quick shots in his direction.

  Juan went down, and Lyla didn’t wait to see if there were more peop
le with him who’d been sent to kill her.

  She turned and ran.

  TWENTY-ONE

  JHOOTHA ISLAND

  Raven Malloy watched Juan fall to the ground from the trio of shots, but she let Eddie and Linc tend to him. She needed to go after the woman with MacD. His crossbow was already reloaded.

  They took off down the beach and then into the jungle, where the woman’s footprints disappeared into the trees. The dense foliage provided cover for her, but it would also make it difficult for her to move quickly and silently.

  Raven stopped and put up her hand. They both listened for the sound of crunching foliage, but everything was quiet.

  “Ah saved her life,” MacD whispered. “Why did she shoot the Chairman?”

  Raven thought about the plain jumpsuit the woman wore. “She might have been a passenger on that plane, which puts her here for a year and half. She doesn’t know who her enemies are anymore.”

  “Or who her friends are.”

  “We need to find her before she runs into her real enemies.”

  MacD nodded to her right. “She stopped about a hundred yards that way.”

  Raven looked in that direction, but she couldn’t see anything. “How do you know?”

  “Ah’ve been a hunter all my life,” he said with a cockeyed smile. “Ah could track a hummingbird through a hurricane.”

  Raven shrugged. MacD was always saying stuff like that. Not being a hunter herself, she couldn’t tell if he was right. She’d grown up on military bases, and then worked in the Military Police after joining the Army, spending most of her time tracking people using clues of a different kind. But one of the things she’d learned since being added to the Oregon crew was that her new colleagues were experts in their fields. If MacD said the woman was hiding behind a tree a hundred yards away, Raven accepted it without question.

  “Let me talk to her,” she said. “I don’t think your kind of charm is going to work in this situation.” As an investigator, one of Raven’s specialties was talking to people and gaining their trust.