Dark Weapon Book One: Time of Bombing

Chapter 7

Phillips, unaware that his entire family had just been murdered, burst into the State CIA office and began pouring out everything he knew about the incident. He was directed to the Captain of the CIA agents, who happened to be George’s son — an upright agent who dealt only in facts and truth, and who was more than ready to help his father’s friend.

“Here — this is Elisa’s number. But someone calling herself Nada rang me with it and said some things I didn’t understand,” Phillips said.

“What kind of things didn’t you understand?” Adan asked.

“Something about three years ago, but that’s not important right now. I need you to save my wife — this Nada said they’ve already killed Thelma,” Phillips said, his voice quivering.

“I know what to do with this,” Adan said, taking the phone from him.

“Get the agents ready, and bring SWAT along too!” he ordered, striding into his office with Phillips’ phone still in hand.

Adan dialed Elisa’s number. It was answered on the second ring.

“Adan Robertson. You’ve got some nerve, calling,” the voice on the other end said.

Adan was startled that the caller knew exactly who he was and why he was calling. He glanced around the office, wondering if someone besides his team was watching.

“No, don’t look around, Adan,” the caller said, startling him further. “I’ll speak on behalf of the Five,” she added.

“Tell Phillips to get home as fast as he can, or the vultures will finish off the packages we left him.”

“Who are you, and what do you want?” Adan asked.

“Me? I’m the leader of the Five. My name is Nada, and I want the blood of the people who were murdered unjustly three years ago. That’s all,” Nada replied.

“Where is General Phillips’ family?”

“Phillips is the only one left to meet his ancestors. Tell him Elisa and Thelma are bored on the other side without him.”

“And if Intelligence is really as intelligent as it claims, I dare you to find us within two hours. Otherwise, Adan Robertson — give up now.” Nada ended the call.

“Did you get anything? Any signal at all?” Adan asked.

“Yes, boss. She talked long enough that we traced her,” Stephany said, smiling.

“Where are they, then?”

“An abandoned building near the border.”

“Inform General Phillips. Let’s move,” Adan ordered, and they filed out of the office.

Nada set the phone down and smiled to herself. In front of her sat several monitors, each fed by cameras placed around the city — that was how she’d known who was calling, and from where. She’d given him two hours to find her, but she intended to take her time, watching them scramble, knowing full well it wouldn’t be enough.

“I think we should get moving,” Mini said — Chelsea, ever the logistician, always two steps ahead.

“Has Elisa been delivered?” Nada asked.

“Yeah. Easier than Thelma, even,” Fae said, earning an elbow from Nebula.

“Intelligence is on their way. Here’s what you asked for,” Blesse said, handing Nada a briefcase — Izzy, the one who never spoke more than necessary but never missed a detail either.

“Thanks. You can all go your separate ways now. I’ll be in touch when it’s time for the next target,” Nada said, and they left.

Come on, Phillips. Time for a taste of your own medicine, Nada thought, grinning.

Five hours later, Adan had located the abandoned building and was positioning his men around it — some in the bushes, some snipers stationed a good distance away, the rest held back as backup.

“The tracker puts the abductor on the tenth floor, boss,” Stephany said.

“Good. You heard him, sniper team. Get ready.”

“Yes, Captain,” they said in unison.

Testing Intelligence, are we? Adan thought.

His phone rang, and he signaled for silence.

“Adan Robertson. Have you arrived? I won’t show myself until you come up to the eighth floor — not the tenth, whatever your boy told you. And you’re bringing that son of a bitch Phillips with you,” Nada said.

“You think you can fool me?”

“I want you to catch me, Adan. Either you do that, or everyone here dies. I don’t much care about innocent blood, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

“Fine. Just me and Phillips. But you’ll pay for this.”

“That cell phone — you’d better throw it as high as you can if you don’t want to die.”

Just then the phone in Adan’s hand began to tick, and he realized with a jolt that it was about to go off. He hurled it into the air a heartbeat before it detonated.

“Sniper teams, stand by. Fredrick, stay sharp,” Adan said into his walkie-talkie.

“Phillips — she wants you coming in with me.”

“Fine. Let’s take this straight to hell, then,” Phillips said, and the two of them walked into the building.

“Nada! Show yourself!” Phillips bellowed once they reached the eighth floor, to Adan’s astonishment. On a mission like this, staying silent was basic protocol — it was the only way to catch the enemy off guard. Adan found himself wondering whether Phillips had ever actually served as an officer.

“You really do lack subtlety, Adan,” Nada said. “Did you honestly think I was on the eighth floor? Come down to the fifth and find out.”

“You must be shaking in your boots, hopping from floor to floor like that,” Phillips said. “You should have thought harder about the miserable way I’d make you die before you killed Thelma and Elisa.”

“Oh, your wife was a beauty. Shame she ended up with a lowlife like you. Fifth floor, Adan. I said fifth floor.”

They moved down.

“There you are,” Nada said from the shadows as they entered.

“Who are you?” Adan asked.

“I already told you. Nada,” she answered, her voice thick with contempt.

“What do you want, then?” Adan asked, drawing his gun from his back pocket.

“Ask the thing standing behind you. He knows exactly what I want,” she said, nodding at Phillips.

“Phillips — is that true?” Adan asked.

“Shut up, Robertson. You’re not actually buying what this psychotic killing machine is telling you?” Phillips snapped.

“Psychotic killing machine? That’s exactly what you turned us into, Phillips.”

“Just finish her off,” Phillips said to Adan.

“Oh, sweetie — you don’t really think a gun’s going to stop me, do you?” Nada asked, stepping out of the shadows. A mask covered her nose and mouth, leaving only her eyes exposed. Whatever Adan saw in them rooted him to the spot.

“Adan, for God’s sake, what are you doing?” Phillips shouted.

Gunshots cracked outside.

“What was that?” Adan spoke into his radio, but got no answer.

“Oh, don’t look so surprised, Adan. You brought a sniper team — I brought mine too. Two lovely girls,” Nada said, grinning behind the mask. Nebula and Fae — always her sharpest shooters.

Nada snatched the gun from Adan’s hand so fast he barely registered it happening. She leveled it at him and ordered his hands up. Disarmed, he felt a cold dread settle over him — she looked like someone who would kill without a second thought.

“I warned you, didn’t I, darling? Find me within two hours, or give up. You didn’t. It’s been five hours already,” she said, raising her wrist to show him the time.

“Phillips. Three years ago, you conspired to murder three hundred and fifty-five young recruits placed in your care so you could take the position of Army General. I’m sorry, but that position was never meant to be yours — because not all of us died. So I suppose on Remembrance Day, they should be reading three hundred and fifty names, not three hundred and fifty-five. Don’t you think?” Nada said.

Phillips knew exactly what she meant. He looked around and, with a jolt, remembered that the abandoned building had once been the training center.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Phillips said. His only chance of surviving was to feign ignorance.

He reached behind his back, quietly going for his gun. Adan caught the movement — Nada clearly hadn’t. He shoved Phillips aside and wrenched the weapon from his hand, then turned it on Nada, dead serious now.

“Is this about revenge? Is that why you killed his wife and child — people who had nothing to do with any of this?” Adan asked.

“Yes,” Nada said, raising her own gun to meet his.

“This isn’t the way to do it. The law can give you your revenge.”

“What the hell is he talking about, Robertson? What law?” Phillips demanded.

“The law?” Nada echoed.

“You are the law — and you nearly sided with this piece of garbage before you even knew why I’m doing this, love,” Nada said. “I don’t answer to the law. But you know what moves faster than the law?”

She let the question hang.

“A bullet.”

“Just end it here,” Adan said. “You’ve already killed two people — that’s a life sentence waiting for you either way. End it. Please.”

“No, sugar. I’m only getting started. Time to send you to your ancestors, Phillips.” She turned to Adan. “And you, honey — you can run, if you don’t want to die.” Then she leapt out the window.

“What the hell!” Adan shouted, rushing to the window, but there was no sign of her below.

“Where did she go?” he asked no one in particular. A shot rang out, and Phillips crumpled to the floor.

“Adan! Help me!” Phillips screamed, and then, from every direction, came the sound of ticking.

“Evacuate the building! It’s rigged with bombs!” Adan yelled into his walkie-talkie, already running, Phillips forgotten behind him. Whoever had shot Phillips had aimed for his leg — just enough to keep him from running. He’d helped blow up those trainees once; now they meant to return the favor.

“Where are you going? No — I can’t die like this. No!” Phillips screamed as the bombs detonated all at once. Adan cleared the building with only seconds to spare.

“Move the car!” he shouted at the driver as the SWAT and sniper teams piled in.

“Move it — now! There could be more!” he yelled again, and the driver floored it.

A few blocks away, the bombs went off a second, then a third time, and black smoke rolled up from the wreckage behind them.

“Whew…” The whole car exhaled at once.

“Captain, did you get a look at her face?” Stephany asked.

“I did, but…” Adan started.

“But what, Captain?”

“She was wearing a mask. All I saw were her eyes.”

“Oh, great. So we’re supposed to track down a woman by her eyes alone?” Stephany said.

“Could you please just shut up?” Adan snapped.

“Sorry, Cap.”

“Sorry doesn’t cut it,” Adan muttered, turning to stare out the window.

Adan Robertson walked into his office and sank into his chair with a heavy sigh. He’d never seen a case like this one — never come that close to dying. Goosebumps still prickled his arms at the thought of what would have happened had he lingered even a second longer in that building. But there was no time to dwell on it. He had a maniac to catch.

She mentioned three years ago. It has something to do with Phillips. He opened his system and searched for anything tied to Phillips from three years back. The first result told him everything.

GAS EXPLOSION AT TRAINING CENTER, HORKI, he read.

Gas explosion at the military service training center in Horki, Danima; the blast claimed the lives of 355 people, male and female.

“She said it should read 350, not 355, at Remembrance Day,” Adan murmured. Which means four other people survived that explosion besides her.

Was it really a gas explosion? The question wouldn’t let him go. Stephany walked in to tell him about an interview request.

“The Army General of Horki was killed in an explosion in Horki, Danima. It’s alleged that his wife and child were kidnapped and murdered, their bodies left in front of the late General’s residence before the explosion occurred.

“Danima’s CIA agents were reportedly with him at the time. Joining me now is one of the survivors, CIA Captain Adan Robertson,” the reporter said.

“Sir, can you tell us what happened during the incident that led to the General’s death?”

“Um… everything happened so fast. We had no idea the General was still inside the building. We would have risked everything to get him out,” Adan said.

“What was the situation, and why was the General with the CIA at the time?” the reporter pressed.

“I can’t disclose that — the case is still under investigation.”

“One more question, sir. Did the kidnapper reveal who they were, or why they targeted the General and his family?”

“We’re investigating, and given how sensitive this case is, we need to take our time and handle it carefully.” Adan turned and walked off camera.

“He’s good,” Nada said to herself, switching off the television. “Did you send that thing?” she asked Mini.

“Oh, yeah. Done,” Mini said.

The “thing” was a notice naming Swart as the next target. Phillips had been almost too easy — the girls had wiped out his whole family in a single day. But now that the CIA had taken an interest, they’d have to slow things down with Swart. Their priority now was rattling him — pushing him right to the edge of exposing himself.

“Sir, you have an email,” Henry, Swart’s secretary, announced, stepping into his office.

“Oh — thanks. I’ll check it later,” Swart said, and Henry left.

He was still reeling from the fact that an entire family had been wiped out in a single day. Why did he even go into that building — the one where the trainees died? Phillips always acted so fearless, and now this.

“Sir, that same email keeps coming through. Why not just check it?” Henry asked, tired of seeing the same message from the same sender over and over — not that it was his place to open Swart’s mail.

“Later. I’ll get to it later,” Swart said. “Actually, I think I’ll head home.” He grabbed his jacket and walked out, leaving Henry staring after him in confusion.

Outside his office, Swart nearly collided with Adan.

“Oh — sorry, sir,” Adan said.

“No harm done. What brings the CIA’s captain here?”

“Just a few questions about the General’s death.”

“Come to my office, then,” Swart said, turning back — much to Henry’s surprise.

“Sir, I thought you were heading home,” Henry said, eyeing Adan.

“Henry, clear the rest of my appointments for the day.”

“Yes, sir.” Henry returned to his desk.

“Come in,” Swart said, ushering Adan inside.

“Thank you,” Adan said, taking a seat.

“I didn’t catch your name.”

“Adan Robertson. CIA Captain.”

“Well then. What did you want to ask about Phillips’ death?”

“Three years ago, there was a gas explosion at the military training center where you and Phillips both served as commanders. Correct?”

“Yes. Three years ago,” Swart said.

“Three hundred and fifty-five trainees died in that explosion. Is that right?”

Swart hesitated, clearly wondering where this was going. “Yes — yes, that’s right.”

“Don’t you think it’s possible the recent kidnapping and murders in Phillips’ household are connected to what happened three years ago?” Adan asked, holding his gaze steady.

“No. Phillips said it was fallout from a drug raid he’d run.”

“One last question, sir. Was it really a gas explosion — or was that the story used to cover up what actually happened?”

“What are you implying?”

“I’m saying a gas explosion could plausibly take out the female dormitory and the dining hall at the training center — but not the male dormitory, two blocks further away. The two blocks in between were completely untouched.”

Swart went pale. No one had ever laid the case out as plainly, or as logically, as Adan just had.

“Robertson, we can’t say for certain what happened. We weren’t there.”

“Really? I thought you and Phillips had already concluded it was a gas explosion.” Adan paused. “There’s also the matter of both commanders taking leave the same weekend, the night before it happened. From what I found, commanders weren’t supposed to let the trainees out of their sight — one taking leave, maybe. But both, at once? That’s more than suspicious.”

He sat there, giving Swart the chance to argue. Swart said nothing. That silence told Adan everything — the truth was still buried.

“Seems we’ll be seeing a lot of each other. I’m handling this case personally,” Adan said, rising. “Good day, Minister.” He walked out.

This can’t be happening, Swart thought.

The events of three years ago had come back for him with a blade in hand. Justice had already found Phillips — his family along with him. Swart didn’t need anyone to tell him he was next.

It had been the longest day of Adan’s career — Nada’s sudden appearance, the sheer scope of what she was capable of. He wondered how long she’d been planning, to strike without warning and take out an entire household in a day.

He kept turning over what had really happened three years ago. Swart’s reaction had told him something big was buried there, but it wasn’t enough on its own. Adan had a gift for cracking cases the moment he found the right thread to pull — but something told him Nada’s case wouldn’t give up its secrets that easily.

If they survived, how did they get out during the explosion? he wondered.

Then it hit him.

“CCTV cameras,” he said aloud, already moving for his laptop.

He dug back through the records of the incident but found no footage of the explosion anywhere.

There’s no way it wasn’t recorded, he thought. Someone has it. He gave up for the night and went to bed.

“Phillips’ house, tomorrow,” he murmured, pulling the blanket over himself.

The next morning, Adan arrived at Phillips’ house to find little but furniture, police tape, and blood. The whole place reeked of death. Before it could ever smell like a home again, someone would have to scrape a fair amount of dried blood off the walls.

He moved into the living room and began turning the place over, certain that a man as corrupt as Phillips had something to do with the missing footage.

“Where is it,” Adan muttered, frustration building.

He searched every room, including the study, and found nothing. Exhausted, he leaned against the study wall — and it gave way beneath him.

“What the hell!” He nearly lost his footing.

The wall had swung half-open on a hidden hinge. There was a secret room behind Phillips’ study.

“Of course there is,” Adan said, pushing it open the rest of the way and stepping inside. He’d suspected as much ever since he’d caught Phillips reaching for his gun back at the building. The room was stacked with files everywhere he looked, and he had no idea where to begin.

He grabbed one at random. It documented a transaction between Phillips and a drug lord the CIA had never managed to pin down.

“So you were the middleman,” Adan said, setting the file aside and moving on to the next. As he shifted through the stack, his foot caught on a box tucked under the desk. He crouched to look inside.

A laptop sat there, surrounded by flash drives.

He powered it on and began working through the drives one by one. One folder was labeled “Mercenaries.” Inside was footage of the trainees, still alive, going through their drills. The next clip showed a string of men moving from room to room, each one leaving without the briefcase he’d carried in. After that came footage of an open field — someone playing guitar. Long hair. A girl, though she never turned around.

Then smoke and screaming erupted on the recording. The girl bolted into the darkness; a man stepped into frame, set down another briefcase, and ran. Moments later came the explosion, and the footage cut out.

“Bingo,” Adan said. “I’ve got the footage.”

He gathered the files, the drive, and left the study, closing the wall behind him. He crossed through the living room and headed for his car.

As he drove off, Swart watched him from a car parked down the street.

He’s digging too deep.

“Honey, how are you feeling?” Swart asked, stepping into his wife’s hospital room. She’d taken a bullet trying to stop the Five from abducting Elisa — a fight she’d lost, and one that had only made her easier to identify.

“Better, now that you’re here,” Hannah said, smiling.

“Need anything?” Swart set down the flowers he’d brought, then noticed another bouquet already on the table — her favorite kind.

“What’s this daisy doing here?”

“Daisy’s at school, you know,” Hannah said.

“I know. I mean the flower.”

“Oh — I ordered those myself. You know how much I love daisies.”

“Clearly. Enough to name our daughter after them. Funny you didn’t do the same for Macleod.” He’d half-expected the Five had sent them — a warning that she was next.

“I should’ve named him Carnation. That’s a beautiful flower too.”

“That’s a girl’s name. Are we really doing this — names, all day?”

“You started it,” Hannah sang, laughing at the face he made.

“No one strange came by today? No one following you?”

“No one’s after me, dear. You worry too much. They wanted Elisa, not me. It’s such a shame — she was wonderful,” Hannah said, her smile fading.

“I hope you’re right,” Swart said, pulling out the chocolates he’d brought and feeding her one.

“Mmm… these are good,” Hannah said.

“Yeah?”

Swart smiled and watched her eat, but the warmth didn't reach his eyes. Somewhere out there, Nada was counting down a clock he couldn't see, and no amount of daisies or chocolate was going to stop it from running out.

He kissed Hannah's forehead, told her to rest, and stepped out into the hallway — already dialing Henry, already thinking about how much time he had left.