Viper Nine Read online

  ‘You know? What could you possibly know?’ Kovac replied, erupting with anger.

  ‘I’ve lost people I cared about,’ Driver continued. ‘Friends, colleagues…’

  ‘Oh, friends, colleagues!’ Kovac said, turning his back on her. ‘Have you seen your father, a war hero, die at the hands of the Bosnian Mujahideen?’ Kovac raged, spinning to face her. ‘Have you and your father been labelled criminals for defending your country? Have you seen your village bombed? Your house burned? Your homeland invaded and weakened by a corrupt Saudi regime? Have you seen the rest of the fucking world condone it? Paint it with lies – with their own twisted version of events?’ The Serb spat out the words, his neck muscles convulsing and the broad-shouldered Graf cowering away from his leader’s volcanic temper. ‘Have you watched your mother turn around and marry a fucking Bosnian-Muslim?’ he continued. ‘Seen her dishonour everything your father fought and died for? Sat across from the dinner table from your enemy? Slept in the next room and while he fucks in your father’s bed?’ Kovac breathed heavy, wiping the spit from his chin with the back of his hand. ‘No, you know none of these things,’ he continued, lowering his voice. ‘You’re American. What would you know?’

  Driver paused as the man gathered his composure. ‘I can’t begin to imagine your pain, Radovan,’ she said. ‘No one can.’ Driver took a step forward into his space. ‘But let me join you. Let me help you put things right… We can work side by side, as comrades. Who knows, maybe more?’

  She dared to put a hand to the man’s cheek, noticing a second tattoo on Kovac’s right bicep. A snake curled around a dagger and a discreet V9 inked on the blade.

  Driver teased a finger over the design. ‘Viper Nine, it means something, doesn’t it?’

  The Serb gazed whimsically at his bicep. ‘The Vipers, Ninth Regiment. My special forces unit during the war. The same as my father’s.’

  ‘I was with the Airforce,’ Driver replied.

  ‘You were a soldier?’ Kovac asked.

  She nodded. ‘Seventy-First Fighter Squadron.’

  ‘Then you know what it’s like to see combat,’ the Serb continued, his energy further softening.

  ‘Um, the account number,’ Jana said, venturing to interrupt.

  ‘What about it?’ Kovac asked, fingers toying with a strand of Driver’s hair.

  ‘It’s wrong,’ Jana said. ‘It doesn’t exist.’

  ‘Try it again,’ Kovac replied.

  ‘I did, three times already.’

  A tentative touch of her hair turned into a violent fist as the Serb grabbed a handful. He snapped her head back and looked down at her in disgust. ‘Just as I thought.’

  ‘No,’ Driver pleaded. ‘I’ve been tricked, like you.’

  Kovac grunted, incredulous.

  ‘They must have never intended to pay,’ she continued. ‘It was a way to get rid of me. To tie up a loose end and stall you in the process. These people, they’re snakes. It’s what they do.’

  ‘Oh really?’ Kovac said, motioning for one of his men to enter.

  Out of the gloomy corridor, Wells appeared, his hands in plastic ties and Graf with a firm grip of his arm.

  The German dumped Wells on his knees in front of Driver, his clothing dirty with blood and sweat, bleeding from above the eye and the bridge of his nose.

  ‘Then who’s this?’ asked Kovac.

  Chapter 36

  Juárez, Mexico

  Dawn broke over the treetops east of the city. The convoy of federal police vehicles sped nose-to-tail along the dirt roads, the morning still cast in darkness.

  Yet the sun dared stick its head out over hilltops for another day of combat in the troubled city. They had to move fast.

  Pope rode on the back of a pickup in full, black SWAT uniform, balaclava and helmet. Armed with a CZ BREN assault rifle, he steadied himself against the grab frame of the Ford F150 truck.

  It rumbled over rough terrain, the third of eight vehicles, including three other pickups. To the front was a tank-like armoured MRAP and to the rear, a pair of tactical unit vans carrying men and equipment.

  As Rios stood alongside him in the same federal police garb, Pope couldn’t deny it felt good to be riding into battle. Almost like it did when his special forces unit would ride into a war-torn town in a thunder of tank treads, chopper rotors and AC/DC over the Humvee stereo.

  It was the pre-combat buzz. There was zero substitute. And the Australian felt a damn sight better riding through the Mexican jungle now that a good dozen SWAT police had his back.

  He glanced across at Rios, her focus like a laser and no hint of fear. Even if she was faking it, no one faked courage like the little Latina. Pope admired her for it. Not that he’d tell her. He wasn’t a soft arse, after all.

  As he held on tight, the pickup took a hard right in line with the vehicles up front. Chunky off-road tyres ate up the dusty ground bumping up onto the road into the compound. They passed under a canopy of trees with the entrance in sight. Sweating under the weight of the uniform, Pope smiled as the truth dawned on the guards on the gate.

  But he wasn’t smiling for long. High-calibre rounds fired from the perimeter watchtowers. Forty-five mils ricocheted off the MRAP and punched holes in the bodywork of the trailing convoy.

  Pope and Rios crouched low behind the cabin of the pickup as the MRAP crashed through the gate. Its steel frame no match for fourteen armour-plated tonnes rolling in at speed. Yet more than one officer on the back of a pickup took a hit to the body, while another shot scored a direct hit on the fuel tank of the pickup in front.

  The Ford off-roader went up in a fireball, but Pope’s ride swerved left and peeled off into the courtyard, avoiding the worst of the flak.

  As it slammed to a stop, the ex-special forces soldier spun and jumped off the rear. He ran low, using the truck as cover, Rios tight behind.

  The space around the pair was bedlam. A dizzying fire fight where things happened fast and combatants died faster. As a side door flew open, a trio of armed security appeared in bulletproof vests and green camouflage. Pope aimed and fired. A semi-automatic burst from the police-issue assault rifle.

  Rios fanned out and added two dead men to Pope’s one. He ran towards the main entrance, narrowly avoiding the fire from the compound snipers.

  Yet the SWAT unit had come well prepared, with handheld grenade launchers aimed at the watchtowers on all four corners of the perimeter.

  The elevated shooters caught a grenade each, one of the towers collapsing and smashing to the ground like a falling Redwood.

  In less than a minute, the police had the exterior of the compound locked down. They swarmed around the building, allowing Pope and Rios to reach the entrance unharmed. They hit the nearest wall, turned their backs and waited for the SWAT team to cut through the lock on the doors with a handheld blowtorch.

  Pope tapped Rios on the shoulder and they folded in behind a stream of masked police storming through the entrance.

  Breaking off and sweeping the corridors, the inside of the main building was functional and bland.

  Pope turned a blind corner and almost took a volley of fire from an advancing guard. He backed up, waited a second and spun out to return fire. The man was exposed and down. Pope waved Rios on as they shuffled along the corridor, around the twitching body.

  More encounters followed. Pope wasn’t sure where they were heading. And it wasn’t like they signposted the way to the cell itself.

  And as he thought, initial resistance was fierce. The remaining base security were dug in, highly-trained and fighting for their lives.

  But they weren’t dumb. And during the first break in fire, they threw their weapons into the corridor and yelled surrender.

  With the entire base under police control, Pope and Rios moved through one anonymous corridor after another.

  Then he felt a grab on the arm as she motioned towards the end of a corridor crowded with SWAT. They hurried to the source of the gathering – another set
of locked doors with a retina scan.

  ‘This is it,’ Rios said. ‘The cell.’

  The SWAT leader was on the radio. Pope assumed, confirming a successful raid. He turned to Rios and spoke in English for the Australian’s benefit. ‘We got you in. What now?’

  Spotting a Viper Nine guard on his knees at gunpoint, Pope pulled him to his feet and dragged him over to the retinal scan. He gripped the back of his neck and forced his eye to the scanner, chest-high for a man of Pope’s height.

  The scanner flashed red.

  ‘The bloke hasn’t got access,’ Pope said.

  ‘Try the other one,’ Rios said from beneath her mask, only her eyes on display.

  Maybe it was noticing her eyes for the first time, but there was something sexy about Rios in her full combat dress. He shook the thought out of his head and switched to scanning the man’s left retina. The scanner turned green and the door unlocked. Rios hauled it open, allowing the gathered SWAT to file in, yelling at the stunned, tired hackers to step away from their machines.

  The cell was like a regular open-plan office. Windowless, air-conditioned with a grey carpet. There was a small break area to the rear and rows of white desks with twenty or thirty super-geeks spread out among them.

  The hackers were a mix of genders and races. Most of them university-age kids in trendy T-shirts, trainers and jeans, with security lanyards slung around their necks.

  As the police worked their way through the office, they pushed their quarry to the carpet and snapped on the cuffs. One by one, they frogmarched the hackers out of the building.

  Pope followed Rios to a nearby machine, already logged in with a screen full of code and an email account window minimised on the task bar. He hovered over the machine, trying to remember what the hell he was supposed to do now they were in.

  ‘I’m no good with computers,’ he mumbled.

  ‘Out of the way,’ Rios said, stepping in front of him.

  He watched over her shoulder as she opened the email tab and clicked on new message.

  The Latina typed an email address and then a short message to Anna. She hit send and they waited. The reply was almost instant – a blank email with a mysterious attachment. Rios double-clicked and opened. Then Mo’s virus code did the rest, infecting the computer and spreading from one machine to another like wildfire.

  ‘This should infect the servers and undo all the hacks,’ Rios said.

  ‘Just like that?’ Pope asked.

  She shrugged as chaos reigned on the screen of the computer screen. ‘You wanna ask how this shit works, be my guest. I’d rather stick a cattle-prod up my ass.’

  ‘Kinky,’ said Pope. ‘I didn’t know you were into that.’

  Rios laughed and slapped him on the arm. ‘Come on, let’s get the fuck outta here.’

  * * *

  With dawn breaking, a handful of the Juárez tactical unit smoked in a huddle outside the building next to the complex. Others loaded members of Viper Nine into the backs of waiting police vans. And clean-up teams set about zipping up the bodies of fallen base security in black bags, ready for the morgue.

  Rios, meanwhile, made a call to Anna. ‘I uploaded the virus. Any change yet?’

  ‘It’s already breaking on CNN,’ the Wildcard liaison confirmed. ‘Reports of normal service resuming, at least in the States. The stock markets are back in business, for a start.’

  ‘Good, then we can get out of this dump,’ Rios said. ‘Any word on the others?’

  ‘Not from Lim,’ Anna replied. ‘Wells managed to send the co-ordinates through for Kovac’s Saudi base.’

  ‘Text me the details,’ Rios said, ending the call at the sight of an SUV entering the compound. It rolled slow through the mêlée and stopped only a few feet from her and Pope. ‘Oh great,’ she muttered.

  ‘What now?’ Pope sighed, removing his helmet and wiping the sweat from his face with the balaclava.

  The face stepping down out of the SUV said it all. The owner of that face was Chief of Police Alfredo Alvarez.

  He pulled his cap on over his bald, liver-spotted head and walked towards Rios like he was John Wayne.

  Polarised sunglasses dominated his features, with a thin grey moustache under a fat set of nostrils.

  Alvarez’s smile skewed to the left as he stood wide-legged with his hands on hips. Looking Rios up and down, he shook his head. ‘Well look what the cat shitted out.’

  Rios held her tongue, if not for her sake, then for Pope’s. They’d made it into the compound, but they were yet to make it out of Juárez.

  Alvarez broke into a full smile of nicotine-stained teeth. It was as phoney as he was. And if there was any justice, his forty-a-day habit would earn him a painful death ‘It’s good to see you again, Maria.’

  ‘Wish I could say the same for you,’ Rios replied.

  ‘Is that how you thank me for coming to your rescue?’

  Rios tucked her helmet under an elbow and peeled off her gloves. ‘Something tells me you did it for Montero, not me.’

  ‘I have to say. I couldn’t believe it when he told me you were back. It was a dumbass move, even for you, Maria.’ Alvarez toyed with his moustache as he surveyed the scene. ‘You sure know how to make a mess.’

  As hot as it burned, the raid would make Alvarez mayor if he wanted it. But maybe he preferred to stay where he was. All the power with none of the accountability.

  Correction, the illusion of power.

  Above all the crooks and thieves in the Juárez government sat Carlos Montero, from his plastic fruit empire on Mount fucking Olympus.

  ‘So you come to claim the credit?’ Rios asked.

  ‘Well it was my operation,’ Alvarez replied, signalling to someone over her shoulder.

  Rios turned to see a band of four SWAT police trooping their way.

  Alvarez spat on the ground. ‘You know I can’t have you running around here.’

  ‘It’s all right mate, we were just going,’ Pope said.

  Alvarez tutted and shook his head. ‘I can’t have Maria here running around anywhere. After all, if I let a hired killer go free, what kind of police chief would I be?’

  ‘That’s funny,’ Rios sniped. ‘Most of those killings were for you. And few by choice.’

  The accusation slid off Alvarez like hot oil off Teflon.

  ‘So what, you gonna arrest me for a second time?’, she continued. ‘Frame me for another of your sins?’

  ‘This time that won’t be necessary,’ Alvarez continued. ‘Neither will a prison cell.’

  Pope stepped in front of Rios. ‘You wanna take her, you’re gonna have to go through me.’

  ‘That won’t be a problem,’ Alvarez said, as his men formed an armed circle around them with rifles at the ready.

  ‘Leave the gringo out of it and I’ll go quiet,’ Rios said.

  ‘Be as loud as you want, my dear,’ the police chief smirked. ‘No one here cares.’

  Rios fought the urge to raise her weapon and shoot Alvarez on the spot. But that would be an instant death sentence, for her and Pope. Besides, why live up to all the bullshit he’d made up about her?

  Rios released her grip on her rifle as Alvarez’s men moved in. They relieved Rios and Pope of their weapons and wrestled them both into cuffs.

  ‘You know we work for some seriously powerful people,’ Pope said, struggling against arrest.

  Alvarez cast an amused eye around the complex. ‘And where are they, these people?’

  ‘You know, if slime could talk, it’d sound a lot like you,’ Rios sneered, as she was led away. ‘Where are you taking us?’

  ‘For a nice drive in the country,’ Alvarez replied, like the snake who’d got the mouse.

  Chapter 37

  Washington D.C.

  Every face in the situation room allowed themselves at least one sigh of relief. Wall Street was in business again. The Texan and Canadian oil fields were back under the control of their respective energy companies. And a string of ot
her denial of service hacks were a recent memory, including the country’s major transport systems. Similar reports were flooding in from around the world. Yet news of Driver was still to come and all attempts at communication with Lim had met with a deafening silence.

  Still – thanks to Wells – Gilmore, and the others in the room, now had co-ordinates for Kovac’s base of operations.

  As the meeting settled back in after a break, Gilmore was keen for Schneider to share the intel and get some much-needed aid to his two agents on the ground.

  Yet the Russian President was the first to speak, asking his US counterpart if there was an update on the ransom payment.

  ‘It’s still not been taken,’ Williams replied. ‘Whether that’s a good or bad thing, I’m not sure I can say.’

  ‘And your CIA operative?’ Utkin asked.

  Schneider shook his head. ‘I’m afraid there’s no update, Mr President. But we do have co-ordinates of Officer Driver’s current location, which we believe is the site of another Viper Nine cell.’

  ‘How do we have this information?’ General Budge asked.

  Gilmore leaned forward on his chair. ‘We have another officer in play, General. He’s confirmed Officer Driver’s whereabouts and suggested there’s a strong possibility that Kovac is in attendance.’

  ‘Well where are they?’ President Williams asked.

  Schneider gave a nod to one of the Watch Team, who teed up aerial footage of Kovac’s Saudi compound. ‘This is a live satellite feed of the compound. As you can see, it’s a manned station with vehicles and armed suspects.’

  ‘I suggest we launch an immediate airstrike,’ ventured General Budge.

  ‘I’d suggest we don’t be so hasty,’ Gilmore replied, eschewing his place in the pecking order.

  ‘Bryan’s right,’ Schneider said, backing him up. ‘We have officers on the ground.’

  ‘And a madman with a nuclear weapon sitting right under our noses,’ said Admiral Benson.

  Ambassador Hill remained unconvinced. ‘Even if we wanted to launch an assault, military options remain off the table as long as the hacks remain in place.’