Damnation Code (William Massa) - William Massa Page 0,35
One wrong move and he was history. Ten minutes had passed since the vicious attack on the Apple Store. Odds were good that the coders might still be inside the auditorium, drawing inspiration from their twisted muse. A perfect opportunity to drop by and share some quality time.
Talon palmed the cultist’s Omicron identification badge. His name was Richard Webb. “So tell me, Richard, what goes through a crazy person’s head? Are you like, ‘man I’m a psychotic fruit loop, today is a beautiful day to go stab some innocent people?’”
“We mock that which we don’t understand.”
“A true believer, huh? I wonder what your leader will have to say when he finds out you didn’t have the guts to off yourself like the others.”
“We all serve in our own way.”
A nervous shiver rippled through Richard’s features and Talon smiled. The enemy hiding behind the robot masks was all too human.
“Turn right.”
Richard did as he was told and the Omicron campus jumped into view. They drove into the parking structure and Talon commanded Richard to swipe his badge. The security gate rose, offering them full access.
Richard parked the car as instructed. Talon grabbed the cultist by the collar and kept the gun trained on him as they both got out of the Tesla on the passenger side. There was a bank of elevators about forty feet away. An empty chair flanked the steel lift, but there was no sign of a guard. “How many guards are in the lobby?”
“About four.”
Not an ideal scenario, but it could’ve been worse.
Talon didn’t know who belonged to this cult and who didn’t. He wasn’t eager to kill any innocent bystanders.
“Walk next to me. Pretend we’re having a wonderful conversation. If you do anything fishy, I’ll shoot you. If you call for help, I’ll blow your fucking brains out. Got it?”
Richard nodded and swiped the card. The elevator doors split open. Seconds later, the lift ascended.
Talon studied his hostage and wondered what could have pushed him into this madness. Casca’s words rang through his mind. The dark power of any cult comes from its message, Casca had said. But what was the message here? How could such fanaticism find fertile soil in the homeland? Silicon Valley wasn’t some war-ravaged hellhole but one of the most affluent regions in the United States.
The elevator door zoomed open. They stepped out onto the ground level. A cathedral of glittering glass and brushed steel awaited them. Exotic plants abounded, creating the illusion of walking through a giant greenhouse. Could this tranquil environment truly harbor a killer cult?
It boggled Talon’s mind.
Ahead of them, Talon took note of the guards. Four men wearing suits and ear-mics manned the security desk. This would be the tricky part.
Richard flashed them a quick smile and the guards didn’t pay any more attention to them. He was just another worker returning from a long lunch.
Richard was playing ball. Smart man. Seeing his buddy’s brain splattered on an iMac like a Jackson Pollock painting had left a lasting impression.
They crossed the atrium-sized space of the main lobby. Talon caught glimpses of the upstairs offices, the glass walls putting them on display as if they were all inside a big aquarium. For a beat he wondered if the cult membership came with Omicron shares and a medical plan. Talon smiled grimly. Nice to know his dark sense of humor was intact. It had helped him through some tough patches over the years.
Talon spotted more powerfully built guards fronting the auditorium’s main entrance. Remembering that Becky mentioned a back door leading to the assembly hall’s balcony, he ordered Richard to show him the way. They closed in on a glass elevator that was tinted blue. A minute later they got out on the second floor and headed for a door located at the end of the hallway.
Richard swiped his security card and the door swung open. The moment they stepped inside, Talon rammed the butt of his Glock against the back of Richard’s head. The cultist slumped to the ground, down for the count.
For a second, Talon considered his next move. His stomach churned with uncertainty. It almost felt too easy but he’d come too far to turn back. He shot a final glance at Richard’s unconscious form and moved deeper into the darkness.
Body coiled and gun up, he advanced toward the edge of the balcony overlooking the cavernous amphitheater below. About 80 of the 300 seats were occupied with coders. They faced the screen and its images of violence