The Curse of Medusa

“All right everyone,” Kim said. “We stick to the plan — and no heroics. This isn’t just about rescuing President Grant. This is about the vital national security of the United States. We just don’t know what these crackerjacks have got planned, but if it’s got anything to do with what we all just saw on YouTube it’s not going to be pretty so we can’t risk any screw-ups, got it?”

They all nodded. No one would ever forget the look on Agent Partridge’s face when Kiefel turned him to stone. The idea of that happening to millions of people across the country was unthinkable. As for his threat to do it to the President — they all understood the gravity of the situation and how that could never be allowed to happen, but time was running out.

“We got it,” Doyle said. He cocked his SIG and scowled as he looked at the warehouse. “This is for Partridge. He taught me everything I know, and now that son of a bitch Kiefel is a dead man walking.”

They jogged to a metal door a yard to the right of one of the roller-doors and Doyle kicked it in, almost tearing it from its hinges. After moving inside and seeing the office was clear, he flashed the others a pre-arranged hand signal and they fanned out into the warehouse space.

“Clear!” Kim shouted.

“Clear!” said Doyle. “Move on to the next warehouse.”

They continued through the empty warehouse. Hawke rounded a corner, SIG raised in front of him, ready to fire, but found nothing except yet another expanse of concrete and bare metal shelving units. He moved forward with caution, his footfall quietly tapping on the polished concrete floor.

He rounded a second corner which revealed a short corridor lined with office doors, one of which was throwing a faint blue glow from its window onto the corridor carpet below.

He gave a signal and a moment later Kim Taylor was at his side.

They counted to three and then kicked the door in, immediately covering the entire room with their guns, ready to fire — but it was empty.

“Looks like they moved out in a hurry,” Hawke said. He walked over to the desk and went through the drawers. In the third drawer down he found something.

“At last!”

Kim was covering the door as the Englishman made his search of the office, but when he spoke she glanced over and saw him pulling an Apple Mac laptop from the drawer.

Hawke smiled. “Bingo…”

“You think?” the American woman said.

“I bloody hope so, because whoever was here has moved everything else out!”

“Let me look at that,” Kim said, and holstered her weapon. She walked to the desk and fired up the laptop.

“We need to get this back to Alex at the Pentagon,” Hawke said. “It’ll have a password on it.”

“Never mind about that,” she said dismissively, and pushed a flash-drive into one of the USB ports.

Hawke watched in amazement as the password screen faded to reveal the desktop. “How did you do that then?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

Kim smiled and sat down. “CIA classified.”

Hawke smiled too. He knew he wasn’t going to get any more than that out of Agent Taylor so he changed subject. “So what have we got on here?”

Kim was busy opening and checking files. “Not sure yet, but I’m copying everything to the flash-drive for analysis later anyway… ah — what’s this?”

Hawke leaned in. “What have you found?”

“It’s definitely the laptop of this Nick Collins guy, and I’m just going through the email history… looks like he’s been spending a lot of time in the Bayou State.”

Hawke looked at her, confused. “Eh?”

“Louisiana — there’s talk here of a flight to New Orleans, and another email here booking a hotel in the French Quarter.”

Hawke sighed. “That narrows it down, but not much…”

“I know, but… wait — did you hear that?”

“What?” Hawke looked up at the door and focussed on the silence of the warehouse. “Maybe it’s the SWAT guys, or Doyle and Vincent?”

“No — I thought I heard a car outside the office.”

Hawke moved to the window and squinted at the darkness of the car park. “You’re right — someone’s just pulled up in a Dodge Viper.”

“And who would be driving to an empty warehouse at this time of night?”

They looked at each and spoke at the same time.

“Nick Collins!”

Hawke scowled. “Bastard must have come back for his computer before making like a swift and heading south for the winter no doubt.”

Kim pulled her gun out again. “Not on my watch, he doesn’t!”

They opened the outer office door quietly and went outside.

With his gun raised, Hawke ran forward through the car park in the shadows. Kim followed him until they were almost at the Viper.

They reached the car with their guns raised. “Freeze, Secret Service!”

Collins looked up, terrified, and re-started the engine.

Kim raised her weapon and fired at the Dodge Viper, but Collins reversed the powerful sports car at speed, its red striped roof flashing briefly in the pale glow of a streetlight on the perimeter of the car park. The bullet missed and struck a recycling unit, ricocheting off into the night.

“Damn it!” she screamed. “We need a car, Hawke!”