Chapter 17
Mission Failed

Greta looked very much like a rodent as she scurried across the office, retreating to a corner, nursing her face. Sean turned away from her to allow her to tend to the gash on her cheek, while at the same time flipping the blood-tipped knife in his hand. He allowed himself a small glow of pleasure at her pain. There was a word for that… but Sean could not recall it at the moment.

“That…” he intoned sternly, “…is the price for failure here.”

Greta crawled back over to where Sean stood. “I am sorry… my lord… forgive me…”

“Only because you are still useful to me,” Sean spat. Then he turned and walked towards his computer. “I have a new assignment for you.”

“Anything… to redeem… myself…” Greta stood and crossed to where Sean stood tapping keys on his keyboard. “What would you have me do?”

Sean opened his email and checked his most recent message. He scowled. “Not now. We have other issues to deal with.” He stood up straight. “You will stay here with me while I deal with this. Then I will give you your new assignment. It’s right up your alley.”

“What do we need to deal with here?” Greta asked.

Sean turned and walked over to the elevator. “Theodore Winn has evacuated Sydney. He is moving those people to Helm’s Deep, an underground fortress in the central part of the island. If he makes it, we’ll have a hard time rooting him out.” He stepped inside the elevator. “Stay here. I’m going to have a talk with someone down below. Watch my office.” Greta nodded as the elevator doors closed.

Sean rode the elevator all the way down to the ground floor. When the door opened, he walked out into the busy corridor. Immediately, everyone stopped, turned to face him, and saluted. “At ease,” Sean said, passing by them and out into the courtyard.

Standing in the courtyard was one of his officers, a young man named Captain Shari. Shari smiled as Sean approached and bowed at the waste. “What can I do for you, Emperor?”

Sean stopped in front of him. “Captain, I need you to take a task force and find a large group of refugees that are making an attempt to go from Sydney to Helm’s Deep.”

Shari looked confused. “Helm’s Deep? Never heard of it.”

“It’s Australia’s equivalent of Area 51, except no one knows about it and they really don’t research flying saucers there.” Sean chuckled. “Anyway, I need you to take a group and find those refugees. With them is Theodore Winn, the Prime Minister. Find him and kill him.”

Shari smiled again and saluted. “Yes, Emperor White.” Then he turned and walked brusquely off. Sean rubbed his hands together and allowed himself a wicked smile. This was getting good.

* * *

Sam came running out of the bathroom and nearly collided with three people on his way back to the restaurant. Fred would have chuckled if he hadn’t been frantically trying to calm Gollum down and figure out how they were going to get out of there. Sam bent down next to where Fred had just pulled himself out of Gollum’s grasp. “Did you hear that?”

“Of course I heard it!” Fred snapped. “Why do you think he’s freaking out?”

Gollum, meanwhile, had begun screaming incoherently. “No! No! No! Not taking us, not taking us! Not again! We’ll never go back! Never!” He flailed his arms and squealed. People around them began to back away.

“Shut up!” Fred shouted. Gollum kept screaming. “SHUT UP!” Fred punched Gollum in the side of the head. That seemed to shut him up, at least for the moment. Fred pulled Gollum’s face close to his and hissed, “No noise. It’ll draw attention. We’ve escaped from King… oh, how many times, Sam?”

Sam counted on his fingers. “You? Four, possibly five assuming that was him on the bike. Me, one less.”

“Five times. We’ll be fine. Now…” Fred stood and looked around. “We have to get as far away from this gate as possible. King can sense the ring, so it has to be far from him.”

Sam walked over and stood next to Fred. “Let’s just go towards the exit and try to beat him there.”

Fred nodded. “That’s the only option right now. Gollum, what do you…” His voice trailed off as he looked down. Gollum was gone. Fred looked around, but he didn’t see even a trace of their guide. “Oh COME ON!” he shouted.

“Where did Gollum go?” Sam asked, noticing what Fred just saw.

“Oh, just noticing that now, are you?” Fred snapped. “Come on. We have to leave.” He took a few steps down the hallway.

The door to the ramp leading to Warren King’s plane slid open. Fred’s heart and feet froze. Two of the riders, complete with their Agent Smith look, exited the ramp and stood on either side of the door. Their gaze swept over the room. Everyone seemed to freeze. Fred was vaguely aware of Sam pulling on his arm, and the intercom saying something, but all he felt was cold, numbing fear.

From the shadows beyond the door, he emerged. Same overbearing stance, same expressionless face, same gaze that pierced into Fred’s very heart. Those eyes… Fred could not remember a time when he had seen such a piercing stare. King’s gaze swept across the room, taking in everything. Then he took a step forward.

A man who had been lurking by the terminal suddenly stepped forward and drew something out of his jacket. Fred gasped when he saw it was a handgun. Several other men and women around the gate suddenly produced weapons of their own. King froze. The riders on either side of him reached for their own weapons, but they were too late.

The sudden discharge from so many weapons at the same time echoed throughout the gate area like an explosion. Everyone except King, the assassins, the riders, Fred, and Sam, screamed and ran out, leaving that group alone. The bullets slammed into King, ripping apart his body. He collapsed to the ground, with bullet holes in his head and chest, and with one hand completely ripped off.

The riders seemed to freeze in mid-air. They turned their heads to stare down at their leader. One of the assassins looked around. “Take care of them!” He pointed to the riders. “Then let’s get out of here.”

A voice from behind Fred startled him. “What about these two? They saw everything.”

“Take them with us, I don’t care,” the head assassin said firmly. “Let’s just go!”

A cold laugh echoed through the gate area. Everyone turned to look at the body of Warren King. The body that was getting up off the floor. King had bullet holes all over and a missing hand, but there was no mistaking what was before Fred’s eyes, even if he had seen it before. After all, the man had survived a gunshot, an explosion, and being run over. And now, he was up and laughing again.

“How weak…” King roared, “…do you fools believe I am?”

The head assassin pointed at King with a shaking finger. “Shoot! Shoot! Take him out! Fire!”

The assassin nearest to King raised his weapon, but King was too fast for him. He leapt into the air and brought his good hand down on the man’s head. The head buckled like a water balloon, and the man collapsed to the ground, blood spraying everywhere. King became a blur of movement, moving towards another assassin, a woman. He kicked her legs out from under her and head-butted her. She fell down and didn’t move again.

Sam grabbed Fred’s arm. “You can’t kill him!”

“How is he doing this?” Fred gasped. “First the hill, then the bridge, then the car, then this…”

The head assassin grabbed Fred’s shoulders suddenly. “Wait… you know something? Never mind. You’re coming with me.” He grabbed Fred’s arm, yanking it out of Sam’s grasp and dragging him down the hall. “Grab the other one! Time to go!”

Fred saw one of the assassins grab Sam, and behind them, King and his riders (who had joined the battle) ripping through (sometimes literally) assassin after assassin. That was all he saw before the head assassin dragged him around the corner.

The head assassin pulled out a cell phone and dialed a quick number. “We failed. King is alive. I can’t explain it, but… he’s alive. We have two hostages and we’re on our way to the extraction point.”

One of the words registered in Fred’s brain. “Hostages?”

“Hostages,” the head assassin said quickly. “And they don’t talk. Come.” He dragged Fred down the hall, with the other assassin and Sam following close behind. Fred’s heart pounded. Hostages. This was bad. This was very bad. His thoughts went to the ring, hidden on a chain around his neck. What if his captors found out how valuable it – and he – was? They could ransom him back to the United States, or to Czaron, or worse, try to use the ring for their own purposes.

This was very bad.

To Be Continued…