Silent Night - By Tom Barber Page 0,4
stepped inside and pressed 3, mentally running through all the tasks he and his team had to work on today. A few seconds later, the lift dinged again and the doors slid open on the third floor.
He walked forward, looking at the folder in his hand and his mind on the day ahead, but suddenly sensed someone standing in front of him.
He looked up.
A large man with thick black curly hair was blocking his path.
No one else was around.
The man's arm was outstretched; he was gripping a pistol aimed straight at Dr Bale’s forehead.
Bale dropped his folder and briefcase, shocked, and raised his hands instinctively.
Behind the handgun, the man’s face was cold and hard. He nudged the pistol to Bale’s right.
‘Move.’
Dr Bale did what he was told, staring at the weapon, too scared to object.
‘Keep going.’
Dr Bale kept walking.
He arrived at a colleague's office. The door was closed.
‘Open it.’
Dr Bale did.
As the door pushed back he saw with horror that a pile of bodies had been dumped inside, all of them shot in the head. They were all the members of his team, dumped one on top of the other. Amidst the heap he caught a glimpse of a security guard’s uniform. Joel. The white-tiled floor was pooled and caked with dried blood.
‘Whh-what-,’ he stammered, fear making his vocal cords seize up.
‘Inside.’
Trying not to faint, Dr Bale did as he was told. At his feet, he could see the dead faces of his colleagues and friends. Some of the most brilliant scientists in the country.
Their eyes open and lifeless.
‘Against the wall.’
Bale moved back to the wall, but self-preservation kicked in. He started trying to reason with the man.
‘Please. I’m beg-’
He never finished the sentence. The weapon in the other man’s hand was a modified Glock, an illegal trigger catch turning the weapon from a semi-automatic into an automatic. With an extended magazine slapped into the base of the weapon, he had thirty two bullets to work with. Lowering the weapon in anticipation of the muzzle climb, the man pulled the trigger. The weapon drained the mag in just over a second, and Dr Bale took every single bullet to the face. When the gun clicked dry and the echo of gunfire ceased, the body collapsed to the floor, cordite in the air, blood and brains and small black holes sprayed all over the wall behind where he’d been standing. The curly-haired man pulled the empty clip from the weapon and tossed it to the ground. Then he walked out, shutting the door behind him. He pulled a fresh magazine from his pocket and slapped it into the weapon, snapping the working mechanism forward and loading a shell in the chamber.
He walked across the empty lab towards a chair and took a seat directly in front of the lift.
Waiting for whoever came next.
THREE
Fifteen minutes after Archer had stepped inside the taxi, it turned off Vernon Boulevard in Queens and began to move down a side street, passing a long junkyard and several auto-body shops. In the back, Archer looked out of the window to his right. The snowfall here had been pretty heavy last night, the same as in Manhattan. The white stuff had been shovelled and ploughed to the kerb to clear the way for vehicles, piled a couple of feet high in some places.
They paused at a red light for a few moments, then crossed the street and continued to head south. Before long, a long red-brick building slid into view on the left. It was unmarked and looked innocuous, blending in with all the other structures on the block.
‘Here’s good,’ Archer said.
The driver looked at him through the rear-view mirror. ‘Right here?’
‘Yeah.’
The driver shrugged and pulled to a halt by the kerb. Archer paid the fare and tipped the guy then climbed out and slammed the door shut behind him. As the taxi moved off, turning the corner and disappearing out of sight, Archer looked around. He could see why the driver had been confused. The whole neighbourhood was pretty much deserted, just the faint sound of a radio hanging in the air from one of the auto-body shops nearby.
He walked straight towards a set of glass doors that led into the red-brick building. He pulled one of them open, moving inside.
A second glass door was directly in front of him, this one electronically controlled. He drew an ID card from his pocket and swiped it down a card reader. It buzzed, a green light on the boxed-panel