The Ghost Consigliere

CHAPTER 14: Blood in the Narrow Corridor

DOOOM!

The blast of the shotgun was deafening. The buckshot tore through the chest of a Spetsnaz guard who had been about to shoot Sloane in the back from behind a door. The man was thrown backward into a steel rack, his blood spraying across the grim walls of the meat processing corridor.

Sloane threw aside the shotgun she had just taken. It was empty. Her breathing came fast and ragged. Concrete dust and blood smeared her face.

“Fall back, Cal! Fall back to the generator room!” Sloane shouted. Her right hand drew a suppressed pistol as she kept firing toward the emergency stairwell. Pfut! Pfut!

On the upper floor of the meat packing plant, panic erupted. The Obsidian Vault alarm wailed, followed by the thunder of dozens of military boots rushing up from below, sweeping every inch of the building in pursuit of the two impostor technicians.

Sloane shifted behind a concrete wall. She glanced at Caleb.

The one-eyed man was slumped against a stack of wooden pallets, his breathing like wet paper tearing apart. His blue work coveralls were soaked through with blood pouring steadily from his lower abdomen.

The first shot that had shattered the silence, before Caleb could warn Sloane, had struck him clean through the flank.

“I... I can’t run, Sloane,” Caleb rasped with a crooked smile, fresh blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. He pressed a hand against his torn abdomen, trying to keep his organs from spilling out. “Feels like my guts got fed into a grinder.”

“Shut up, idiot. Don’t waste your breath.” Sloane dropped to her knees beside him. Her trembling hands tore open the fabric of Caleb’s coveralls and jammed it against the wound.

Sloane was a combat medic. Her instincts could assess the severity of a wound in seconds. What she saw now made her heart feel as if it had stopped. The bullet had not passed through. It had ricocheted inside, shredding the large intestine and tearing a major artery. The bleeding could not be stopped without major surgery.

A deeply human panic, the emotion Sloane had hidden behind an ice-cold mask for so long, finally broke loose.

“You’re going to make it, Cal. I’m a medic. I know you’ve still got strength.” Sloane’s voice shook. She glanced around frantically, searching for an escape route through the tightening encirclement. “We need to get to the jammer room. The Vault Master must have set it up near the main control room by the iron stairwell. If we destroy that machine, Elias can get back into those corpses’ heads. Elias will help us!”

Caleb let out a quiet laugh, then coughed blood. He looked at his old friend’s panicked face.

“The three of us are trapped, Sloane. Your arrogant kid is probably pissing himself inside that coffin right now,” Caleb whispered, locking eyes with her. “Leave me.”

“Say that again and I’ll put a bullet in your head myself!” Sloane snapped, grabbing Caleb’s collar with a blood-slick hand. “You’re the only friend from the old unit I’ve got left! I’m not leaving your body for Vancroft’s dogs!”

Caleb only smiled faintly. His single eye held a long, weary exhaustion.

From the end of the corridor came shouted commands in Russian. Two flashbangs bounced off the walls, rolling toward their position.

“Close your eyes!” Sloane shouted, ducking and shielding Caleb’s head with her body.

BANG! BANG!

Blinding white light and a deafening blast tore through the corridor. Sloane’s ears rang violently, her vision swimming.

At the same time, a burst of P90 fire shredded the wooden pallets they hid behind. Splinters flew, slicing into skin.

Sloane knew she had no choice. If she did not destroy the jammer, all three of them, including Elias below, would die today.

Forcing herself up, Sloane yanked the pin from the last C4 charge in her pocket and hurled it toward the corridor where the enemies were gathering.

BOOOM!

The explosion tore through half the hallway, buying them five seconds.

“Get up, Cal! Use my shoulder!” Sloane hauled Caleb’s massive body upright, dragging his arm over her neck.

They staggered forward, leaving a trail of blood across the concrete floor toward the local electrical control room. Every step was agony for Caleb. It felt as if his insides were being crushed. Still, he did not complain. His right hand held his old revolver, firing the last rounds at the shadows behind them.

Bang! Bang!

“The control room’s ten meters ahead,” Sloane panted, her legs screaming under Caleb’s weight. “The jammer must be wired into the panel there. We take it out, we let Elias take over the bodies around here.”

“That’s a bad plan,” Caleb muttered hoarsely. His steps faltered further. “That kid can’t be trusted as a god.”

They turned toward the iron door of the control room.

Just as Sloane was about to kick it open, three Spetsnaz guards appeared from the opposite corner, their rifles already aimed straight at her chest.

Time slowed for Sloane. The distance was too close. Her pistol was empty. She would not have time to duck.

But it was not Sloane who moved.

With the last of his strength, Caleb broke free from her hold. The large man stepped forward, placing himself directly in front of her as a human shield.

“CAL, DON’T!” Sloane screamed.

The enemy P90s erupted.

TRATATATATA!

Dozens of 5.7mm rounds slammed into Caleb’s chest and abdomen without mercy. Blood burst into the air, splattering across Sloane’s face. Caleb’s coveralls were shredded. His body convulsed violently under the relentless impact of bullets tearing through his vital organs. And yet, Caleb did not retreat a single inch.

With the sheer will of a soldier, he endured the killing pain, raised his revolver, and fired back.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Three shots blew apart the heads of two Spetsnaz guards at the end of the corridor. The third stumbled back in panic behind cover.

Caleb’s revolver clicked empty.

The one-eyed man went still. He stood there for a moment, back to Sloane, smoke curling from the barrel of his gun. Then, without a sound, his massive body finally gave in to gravity. Caleb dropped to his knees, then collapsed face-first onto the concrete, a widening pool of blood spreading beneath him.

“CALEB!”

Sloane’s voice broke. Tears she had not shed in years poured down, cutting through the dust on her face.

Ignoring the bullets still whining through the air, Sloane charged the control room door and kicked it with all her strength until the hinges tore loose.

Inside the cramped room, a military jammer blinked with red indicator lights, emitting a high-frequency hum.

Sloane’s grief and fury exploded. She seized a red iron crowbar from the wall and swung it wildly at the machine.

CRASH! CLANG! CRACK!

She struck again and again, smashing its digital screen, snapping its antenna, ripping through its circuits until sparks burst and the machine died completely. The piercing hum vanished instantly.

Sloane let the bent crowbar fall. Her hands trembled violently. She sank to her knees on the control room floor, staring blankly through the open doorway at Caleb’s motionless body in the blood-soaked corridor.

Thirty meters below ground, inside a pitch-dark freezer coffin.

The sensation of a hot needle drilling into Elias’s brain suddenly stopped. The pain vanished, leaving only silence and overwhelming relief.

Elias drew a long breath, his trembling body slowly relaxing. His neural signal was free again. His necrotic waves spread outward without limit, like a deadly radar.

He touched his chest, pressing the button on his earpiece in a panic.

“Signal restored! Sloane, I’m in! I’m connected again!” Elias shouted, breathless, his voice tangled with relief and lingering fear.

But there was no command, no sharp retort from Sloane.

Through the now-clear channel, Elias heard only broken breathing. The heavy, uneven breaths of someone whose heart had just been shattered.

Sloane was sobbing quietly on the other end. A soft sound, far more terrifying than any gunfire.

“Sloane...?” Elias called softly. His blood seemed to freeze as he realized something had gone terribly wrong. “Sloane, answer me.”

“Elias...” Sloane whispered. Her voice was hoarse, hollow, and utterly numb. “He’s gone. Caleb’s gone.”