Shredder, page 3
The giant beneath her pumps up and down on arms the size of tree trunks. He is yet to break a sweat. He once fought for something he believed in, freedom for the place he called home. His ancestors had survived the potato famine but an explosion had ended the family name so he'd taken a new one... Those who know him call him Blight.
The final member of the group is moving around them, toying with the heavy bladed knife in his right hand. He watches Ruby with a glint in his eye and, with the flick of his wrist, the knife leaves his hand and pierces the soil not inches from Blight's face.
The Irish giant jumps up in anger and Ruby is forced to leap from his back with feline agility.
“What's your fuckin' problem, Finch?” snaps Blight. “You coulda had me fuckin' eye out.”
“Maybe I'm jealous,” replies Finch, retrieving his knife. “Only one Señorita and you're getting all the attention.” He licks his upper lip and Ruby gives him the finger.
“Maybe its the Irish charm,” Blight drops a mighty arm over Ruby's shoulder.
“Get used to your own company, Finch,” says Ruby. “You ain't got a hope in hell of touching this.” She runs her hand over her hip.
“Fucking tease.” Finch throws the knife, the blade embedding deeply in a nearby trunk.
“You would do well to read from the good book.” Pastor looks up from the Bible.
“And what's your good book say about killing for money, eh Pastor?” asks Blight.
“An eye for an eye, my friend.” Pastor slams the Bible shut and then grins from ear to ear. “A life for a life.”
“Why'd you even bother with that shit?” asks Finch, working the blade free from the sturdy oak.
“It eases my mind to know that forgiveness awaits me.”
“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” says Ruby. “Dios ha muerto.”
“Any belief is better than none at all.”
The conversation is brought to end by the arrival of another Humvee, the tyres kicking up a cloud of dust in their wake.
“Here comes the 'B' Team,” sneers Finch, sheathing the knife and joining the others.
“Loosen up, Finch,” says Blight. “Its only an evaluation... Its gonna be like playing army when you was a nipper.”
“I was more of a doctors and nurses kind of man.” Finch winks at Ruby.
“In your dreams, Hijo de puta,” Ruby snaps back.
The Humvee comes to a sliding, sideways stop, a showy handbrake turn to announce its arrival. The rear door swings open and Keene jumps down, arching his back and looking up at the sun.
“I take it back,” Blight says, instantly recognising the man in black. “This is gonna be anything but a game.
***BREAK IN TRANSMISSION***
Inside the Mobile Command Centre it is cool, the air kept at a steady temperature by a top of the range environmental control system. Along the entire length of one wall is a series of colour monitors which, right now, show the clearing and its inhabitants.
The monitors are being watched by Chris and Harvey, both nerds of the highest order. As with everything else Clarke only buys the best. The two nerds are, in turn, observed by Valerie, a harsh looking disciplinarian. She scribbles down a quick succession of notes onto a pad and then stands, looking down her angular nose at Chris and Harvey as she heads towards the rear of the command centre.
“Frigid bitch,” whispers Chris.
Valerie hears the hushed insult but chooses not to say anything. She can reprimand them both later and when she does they'll know about it. For now she has work to do.
She reaches a solid, air tight door and knocks on it three times, a rapid rattle of bony knuckle on polymer resin.
“Enter,” Clarke calls from the other side.
Valerie enters the office and closes the door carefully, not wanting to disturb Clarke's current phone conversation any more than is necessary.
“I want those satellite uplinks within the next hour,” demands Clarke. “No excuses... Just get it done.” He ends the call, slamming the receiver down into the cradle and then looks up with a smile.
“Mr Clarke,” She says.
“Valerie... You have news?”
“Keene has just arrived, Sir,” she tells him what he wants to hear. “Everyone is here.”
“Very good,” says Clarke, standing up and making his way around the table. “I best get ready to introduce myself... don't you think?”
“Yes, Mr Clarke, Sir.”
He places an arm around Valerie and the stern look on her face quivers ever so slightly with excitement. “I think we should have dinner, sometime,” he says, leading her out of the office and back into the command centre.
“That would be good, Mr Clarke, Sir.”
“Call me Noel,” he whispers in her ear and then pats her on the rear. “But for now we must get back to work.”
***BREAK IN TRANSMISSION***
Keene is surrounded by those he's been hired to evaluate and he finds their attention quite daunting. Not that they'd ever know it from the stoic expression on his face.
“I hear you killed more people than the potato famine,” asks Blight.
“An overestimation,” replies Keene, slinging the kit bag over his shoulder and walking towards the mobile command centre. In his free hand he still holds the Adam unit.
The group fall in line behind Keene and follow him. He can feel their eyes burning into the back of his head.
“He ain't one for talking, then,” says Blight to Ruby.
“He's fucking insane if you ask me,” offers Jester, rubbing his chest.
“Like Christ he is a man of actions... not words,” says Pastor. “He has a cross to bear and it weighs on him.”
“I doubt your Almighty would be happy with the comparison,” sneers Finch.
They've almost reached the command centre when the door glides open and Clarke steps out to great them.
“Ladies and Gentlemen,” he says loudly. “I'm glad you could all make it... And Mr Keene.” Clarke approaches with his hand outstretched.
Keene pretends he hasn't noticed, taking pleasure in the twitch of annoyance in the upper corner of Clarke's left eye.
“He ain't one for making friends,” states Jester.
“I'm here to do a job... not widen my social circle.”
“Indeed, Mr Keene.” Clarke lowers his hand and steps around Keene. “I would be right in thinking you have read the brief?”
“For what its worth,” replies Keene. “How about you tell us what we're doing here?”
“He's got a point, Clarke,” Finch steps up to their new employer. “What's all this evaluation crap?”
“By employing you I will be investing a considerable amount of money,” explains Clarke. “With that in mind I'd like to be assured that I'm getting what I... and my clients are paying for.”
“You've seen our histories... You know we're good for it,” says Jester.
“That maybe the case, Mr...” Clarke pauses, knowing from the profile he's read more than once what buttons he's pushing on the man facing him.
“Jester... just Jester.”
“Very good, Jester,” says Clarke. “This is not the kind of work any of you will be used to.” He eyes them all up. “Your orders will be vague, if at all... The enemy will not be what you're expecting.” He turns back to face Jester. “I need to know you're going to pull that trigger no matter what the target.”
“Just tell me what direction to aim.” Finch mimes holding a rifle. “And... Bang!”
“What if I told you to kill a child, Mr Finch?” Clarke asks. “Would you be willing to take that life?”
Finch hesitates, lowering the mimed rifle.
“I'd fucking do it,” says Jester, an eager grin on his face.
“Then I think we'll have a long working relationship.”
Keene remains silent, disliking Clarke more by the minute. He watches the man as he begins to pace and wonders if he'd be doing the world a favour if he just killed Clarke now. It would be so easy to step up and push a knife through the soft tissue of the lower back, ruining the kidney with a twist of the blade. And even easier to pull a gun and shoot... one squeeze of the trigger... one bullet.
“The next two days will decide whether I retain you on the payroll or cast you aside,” Clarke continues to explain. “The choices you make and the actions you take will be of great importance.” Clarke pauses and points at Keene. “This man will be overseeing the entire project and relaying the required data to myself and my team.”
“What does this test entail?” asks Pastor.
“I shall leave Mr Keene to fill you in on the details.” Clarke turns away and strides back towards the mobile command centre.
***BREAK IN TRANSMISSION***
Keene sits behind a small table, scrolling through the details on the touch sensitive screen of the Adam whilst also keeping an eye on the group as they arm themselves from the selection of weaponry supplied by Clarke.
“No expense spared.” Jester picks up two light weight semi automatic Uzi pistols.
“You're not going to hurt anyone with those fucking' peashooters.” Blight grins as he hoists an oversized tactical assault rifle into his arms. “You want one of these... a real man's weapon.”
“We all know I'm the only one with a real man's weapon.” Finch grabs his crotch and thrusts his hips in Ruby's direction.
“Do you ever give it a rest?” Ruby asks as Finch blows her a kiss. “Cabrón.”
“More a distance man myself,” says Wedge, picking up a long barrelled sniper rifle with built in telescopic sights and silencer. “Straight between the eyes from over four hundred metres.”
“I hear you, Hermano.” Ruby picks up an identical rifle and slings it over her shoulder.
“She never calls me brother,” complains Finch.
“That's because she doesn't like you,” chuckles Wedge.
“Fuck you both!” Finch turns away, standing at the opening of the tent and lighting up a smoke.
“If you're done?” Keene slams a hand down on the table and they all turn to face him. “You sure I've got your attention?”
“All ears, Boss,” says Poole.
Keene looks them over one more time and then begins. “There's a facility to the North-East of here... About an hour on foot.” He pauses, waiting for further complaints but they don't come. “You'll split into groups... Unit One and Unit Two.”
“So far so good,” says Wedge.
“Your orders are to scout the location, eliminate any and all sentries and then gain entry to the main building.”
“Den what, Boss?” Poole asks. “All sounds too easy.”
“Once inside Unit One will secure the main building from external attack... Unit Two will locate and disable the scientific staff.” Keene looks at Jester. “Staff members are not to be hurt... so much as a bruise and you will answer to me.”
“Dat it?” Poole asks, unimpressed. “What we gonna do for da rest of da two days?”
“Secondary orders will be relayed to me by six hundred hours tomorrow.” Keene doesn't want to but adds... “Questions?”
“Yeah, I got a fucking question,” says Jester. “This is an evaluation exercise, right?”
“Correct.” Keene nods.
“Then why are we running with live ammo?”
***BREAK IN TRANSMISSION***
Clarke sits behind his desk, flicking through papers and drinking from a brandy glass. Life is good and money makes it better. He doesn't seem surprised when the office door smashes open and Keene storms over to his desk.
“What's your fucking game. Clarke?” Keene slams the ammo clip down on the wooden surface, chipping the varnish.
“Did you really expect anything less?” Clarke answers with a question. “Do you want your men walking into a combat zone without the means to defend themselves.?”
“Bollocks... This was supposed to be a glorified training exercise.”
“And it is, Mr Keene.” Clarke leans back in his plush leather chair. “But where is the edge without the threat of death?” He pauses for effect. “Your father taught me that.”
“I didn't sign up for this shit.”
“I don't care what you thought you signed on for.” Clarke pushes the chair back and stands. “We have an agreement and you will honour it.” Clarke walks around the desk. “Every man stationed at that facility knows the risk... they have taken payment and they will fight to earn it... If you've lost the stomach for death get your men to gain entry by stealth... The choice is yours.”
“They're not my men,” Keene snarls.
“Read the small print, Mr Keene... for the next two days they are.”
Keene snatches the ammo clip from the desk, dragging it across the surface and causing damage that can't be repaired.
Clarke watches Keene leave, running his fingertips over the deep scratch left by the ammo clip. “Valerie,” he shouts. “Order me a new desk.”
***BREAK IN TRANSMISSION***
Keene leads the way through the trees, making no attempt to hide the fact he's there... not yet. The moon is full and the sky is clear, beams of silver breaking through the treetops giving the forest an eerie illumination that clashes with the artificial light coming from the perimeter of their destination...
… Facility 13
They are within one hundred metres of the edge of the woodland when Keene stops in his tracks and drops to a crouched position, raising a closed fist to signal the group to stop.
“Ruby, Finch, Blight and Pastor.” He uses their names as if he's known then years. “You're Unit One.”
“Hey Ruby,” says Jester. “You know what that means, right?” He grins widely. “You get to spend the night with the Finch.”
“Paro!” Ruby curses and spits in Finch's direction.
“Do you think this is a fucking joke?” Keene snaps, spinning to face them. “If you do you can piss off now... I don't have time for liabilities.”
“Just trying to ease the tension.” Finch backs away.
Keene gives it a moment and then turns to face the others. “Wedge, Jester, Tess and Poole,” barks Keene. “You're Unit Two... You know your orders so get moving.”
“What about you?” Wedge asks.
“I'm going to sit here,” replies Keene, settling down on the ground and pulling out a hip flask. “I'm going to have a drink and wait for you lot to drop a bollock.”
“Nice to know you have faith in us.” Wedge turns to leave.
“I had any faith beaten out of me a long time ago.” Keene unscrews the lid on the hip flask and raises it to his lips, drinking deeply. When he's done he finds them still looking at him. “What are you waiting for...? I'm not here to wipe your arse.”
Tess leads Unit Two off to the left as Blight takes point for Unit One. Keene watches them leave.
“Here's to you Jenkins,” he whispers. “And that feeling in your water.”
***BREAK IN TRANSMISSION***
Wedge moves on his stomach through the undergrowth, stopping only when he has a clear view of the facility. He takes the sniper rifle from around his shoulder, flicks down the stand under the barrel and then lays it out in front of himself. He closes one eye, always the left, and peers through the sights, swivelling the weapon silently from one edge of the perimeter to the other.
Like all of the others he is wearing a throat mounted microphone which he touches inadvertently before talking. “I got four sentries,” he says in a low voice. “Two on the move, one having a sly smoke and number four is taking a piss.”
“Equal numbers this side,” Ruby's reply comes in crystal clear through Wedge's earpiece. “Lazy bastards are playing cards.”
“Bet I can take all four before you,” says Wedge, laying down the challenge.
“You're on,” replies Ruby. “On three... One... Two...”
Wedge doesn't wait for three, squeezing off four rapid shots as he swings the barrel from left to right. The rifle makes no sound and each bullet is on the mark, a throat shot that rips out the voice box before splintering the spinal column.
“I win,” announces Wedge.
“Trampo de mierda!”
“No one likes a sore loser, Ruby.”
***BREAK IN TRANSMISSION***
“Fuck you, Wedge,” Ruby curses under her breath, returning her eye to the telescopic sight. If there's one thing she hates its a cheater.
She quickly takes in the four targets, grouped together around the bonnet of a battered Landrover. She considers taking her frustration out on them, maybe kneecap them all first.
Ruby shakes her head, deciding against it. She sighs and pulls the trigger four times, watching each head shot spew a fine mist of red into the night air. They hit the floor without even a grunt, the playing cards scattering around them.
Job done.
She stands up straight, lifting the rifle and slinging it across her back, the movement so fluid it is hard to distinguish where she ends and the weapon starts.
Blight steps up next to her, doing his best to stretch the curly cable on his earpiece so that it will sit comfortable in his ear. “Unit Two... we are heading in.”
“See you on the inside,” responds Jester. “The beers are on me.”
Blight nods at Ruby and they head down towards the perimeter fence, closely followed by Finch and Pastor.
Ruby takes on a crouched position as does Blight, but he may as well not bother, his hulking frame almost impossible to disguise. Ruby steps around the four dead guards, not stopping to check for vital signs. Its too late for that.
Pastor pauses and crouches down next to the first corpse and starts making the sign of the cross above the lifeless face.
