Dead. Every one of them.
Pools of blood spread from the heads of four bodies dropped in the parking lot like forgotten trash. There was no evidence of a fight. Their positions suggested they'd been caught off guard and executed, two shots to the head, right where they stood.
Reese crouched low, pressed against one of the three cars the mercenaries had apparently stolen, and checked for a pulse he knew he wouldn't find. Carter and Fusco shook their heads to indicated the same findings. "Finch, four of the mercenaries are dead. You're sure these cameras and security systems are down?"
"Half way there. The camera's are looped, so baring actual eyes, they haven't seen you. I'm still working on disabling the security system... I haven't encountered anything quite like this..."
"I'd be willing to bet it's something from WAR, but hurry we're almost there."
"That.., is not helpful Mr. Reese. I'm assuming there's no sign of our numbers among the casualties?"
"No, they've got to be inside along with the rest of the Mercs."
"There! Okay Mr. Reese, I've got control now."
Reese motioned to both Detectives to follow him, staying close to the building's wall. The clinic was a long, single story white-brick rectangle. Nothing stood out about the place, except that fact. It was ignorable, overlooked by everyone unless it was needed.
They worked their way to the back, moving along the rough stone and leaving the massacre behind, but not the obvious question. How had four, highly trained mercenaries been so easily surprised and killed? Not one gun had been drawn.
John turned, speaking in a hushed voice, "Once we're in, we stay tight, no telling how many men this psycho's got. Finch, you have eyes inside yet?"
"What are we gonna do if they've got an army?" Fusco always seemed to give voice to the collective concerns.
"We have the element of surprise. Stick to your suppressed weapons, until there's no choice to use the others." Reese looked at Carter busy scanning the area. She was already well versed in bunker style infiltration scenarios and had her game-face in place, looking almost comfortable. He inwardly smiled. "Stay tight, sight around corners low, and don't move unless one of us has cleared it."
"Still think we should be storming the place with tact-teams."
"Worried Fusco?" John peered around the corner. "Clear."
"Damn right I'm worried." He huffed in a whispered moving to catch up.
"Well unless you have a better plan, this is what we've got and we're out of time."
"Mr. Reese the locks are open for the next twenty seconds."
"Copy Finch. Ok. Let's move."
The sickly sterile smell of antiseptics and bleach overpoweringly hit the three as they entered the rear door. The building was easily two hundred feet long, had minimal lighting and no discernible activity. "Talk to me Finch."
"The blueprints show ten rooms along the westside and eight to the east, with two double-size rooms in the center, that I can only guess are operating theaters. There are cameras in the west rooms, but only in a few to the east. What I can see appears empty, but I'm afraid the darkness precludes me from being certain." Finch finished.
"Then where the hell is everyone?" Carter asked.
"Good question." Reese signaled them to start with the first room on the left.
On three, Fusco yanked open the door allowing Reese to sweep in followed by Carter.
A single exam table set against one wall, a computer desk at the other, and a chair was all that filled the space. Nothing. The river reflected what few lights this part of town offered and added a peripheral movement that put the team on greater edge.
The room across the hall was the same. Nothing more than any standard hospital room, bed, bathroom and a chair. For three more rooms they systematically searched, finding no variance, perpetrators or signs of their numbers.
Until the fifth.
They entered, same as the other four, but this time there were no sterile, white walls glowing despite the low light, or empty floor spaces. This time, the center of the floor was dark, sticky and covered in a thick puddle that stretched up walls spattered in high velocity spray. Laying in the middle were the other four, awkwardly piled, mercenaries.
Reese and Carter knelt beside the closest, finding the same execution style head shots. John frowned. "The mercenaries wouldn't go down like this, not without a fight. They didn't trust this guy, so surprise is out too. They must have been drugged."
"Drugged how? They would have had to get close enough and hit them all at once. And what about the ones outside?"
"Hey guys... take a look at this." Fusco held out what he could only describe as a metallic bumblebee.
"It's a drone." John closed his eyes with sudden understanding.
"What?" Carter pushed.
"I saw them at the arms event can be remotely guided for surveillance or in this case, armed to deliver a small dose of drugs."
"So what? We find a big can of raid!?" Fusco's didn't bother hiding his irritation or alarm.
"Finch you hear that?"
"I heard Mr. Reese. I'm searching for the frequency they might be using. If I can generate enough interfere, I maybe able to prevent accurate control, but to do that I need them to use it first."
"What about the jammer?"
Finch slowly shook his head. "It was damaged too badly in the garage explosion to salvage. I only managed to save the communications hardware, and that's been quiet."
"John!" Carter yelled in a breathy whisper. She'd been standing watch at the door when she caught movement down the hall. "Three orderlies, with rifles, pushing gurneys just moved from a room across the hall into the last on the left. I think there where bodies on the gurneys!"
"Ok we finish clearing the rooms, work our way toward the end. I don't want any surprises from behind. Finch, we need eyes on those last rooms."
"I'm sorry Mr. Reese, if there are no cameras, there is nothing I can do."
"What about the bugs?" Carter asked.
"If I had the frequency, more time, and any of them were actually outfitted with a camera.., then perhaps." Finch had an idea. "I'm not sure how far the closest perp is, but try cloning one of their phones?"
Reese pulled out his cell and attempted a forced pair, but only Carter and Fusco's came up as options. "No, didn't work, Finch." He turned his attention back to his team. "They still don't know we're here, so lets keep moving."
"Please be careful." Harold cringed at his use of the utterly useless phrase. If only he could offer more assistance, but injured, hidden in Fusco's cruiser, with the unconscious soldier in the back seat, he was at a loss. Until they activated the drones, he'd have to wait and watch.
The search of another two rooms yielded little help to answer their mounting questions, but as they entered the first operating theater, it was clear what insidious plans were laid out.
The room was a large, aseptic space, burning their nostrils with the smell of chemicals and cold death. Everything was covered in sterile blue sheets, completely readied for the round of mutilating horrors, right down to the organ transport containers.
John inspected the row of containers, reading the specific body parts and the apparent names to whom they were destined. He pulled the one labeled 'Lungs - Stark/Denshire,' finding it empty with great relief. He shook his head to answer Fusco and Carter's horrified stares.
The three soundlessly moved to the scrub-room that adjoined the neighboring surgical suite, but froze with the sounds behind the door. Carter looked to the others, putting her hand the knob. One three, she yanked it open.
Reese's lightening fast reflexes dropped a gunman before he could do more than aim. Fusco jumped to the side, firing and hitting a man in blue scrubs with a Uzi. John hit the ground returning fire at two white-clade men busily emptying their silenced pistols in their direction.
Shots ricocheted dangerously close to Reese, forcing him to roll out of the line of fire. He came up in a low crouch, next to Fusco.
Fusco stole a glancing look at the far right of the theater. "I make two bad guys 1 and 2 o'clock."
"I got three more 10 o'clock! No friendlies!" Carter called out. Bullets whipped through the open door, keeping them pinned behind the wall.
"Stay down!" Reese yelled, jumping passed the door and sending three quick shots toward the far corner of the operating room. He landed hard, rolling next to Carter and pulling her down.
Deafening blasts instantly rocked the confines. One by one the row of oxygen tanks began exploding, sending twisted metal shrapnel in every direction.
Screams filled the room easily marking locations for Reese, Fusco and Carter to add to their attackers' misery and shoot the kneecaps of those stupid enough to lift a gun.
"NYPD! Drop your weapons." Carter and Reese moved in covering for Fusco as he kicked guns across the room and zip-tied the hands of the five remaining perps.
"Carter! Over here." Across the smoke-filled room Reese stood staring at the last, functioning, closed-circuit camera. It clearly displayed their four victims, prepped and strapped to gurneys. "Finch found our people."
"Are they alive?" A heavy thud suddenly spun the pair from the screen. "Fusco?"
"Carter look out!" Reese barely caught the movement in time to bat a flying object away from her shoulder as two more darted in for attack. The swirling smoked made predicting their path difficult. Reese grabbed Carter and yanked her against the wall behind an overturned table.
Shielded from the front and back, they had a better chance of staving off the incoming threats. "Finch, we have drones!"
"John!" Carter screamed just in time to divert a diving attack toward Reese's face. "Ow, shit!" She hissed and brought her hand to her mouth in a futile attempt to suck out the drugs she feared had been injected.
John was too busy swatting away two more dive-bombing drones to be able to check Carter. "Joss, are you ok?!"
The drones were nearly silent, swooping passed at speeds of at least 35 mph. "I... John...I can't feel my arm... anymo..."
"Mr. Reese I'm working on it! Hang on!" Finch held his breath in consuming concentration.
Reese felt Carter bonelessly slump against him. "Joss!" He slowed her fall just as he felt a painful jab to the back of his neck. "Finch, we've been hit by the drones. I'm not sure how long I... have. It's... fast acting. Finch... I..."
His vision began to fad, but he could still make out the main door opening and four, maybe five, lab-coated men enter. With his last, uncoordinated reserves, he emptied his clip into whoever was dumb enough to approach. "Finc..."
Finch listened to the bloodbath playing out before him. A sudden explosion obliterated any clear understanding, limiting his interpretations to screams landing rubble. At first it seemed his friends had prevailed, hearing Fusco issuing the NYPD warning to drop their weapons, and Reese say they'd found their numbers, but too soon the new threat arose. "Finch we have drones!"
With unfaltering skill, Finch searched through the spectrum of frequencies, trying in desperate vain to unlock how the wireless data was formatted and being transmitted. If he could hack the DATA line he would be able to gain enough control to at least interrupt the signal. Unfortunately the frequency was on a rolling code and Finch didn't have the time to crack the algorithm before he heard both Mr. Reese and Carter get struck by the drones.
Finch's heart frantically pounded as he heard the quick succession of gunfire. Then nothing.
"Mr. Reese? John?!"
Despite his weakened condition Finch contemplated his options for a desperate attempt to rescue his friends. What could he do? It didn't matter, he just had to try!
Harold stiffened. The heated breath of a growled whisper sent sudden shards of freight coursing through his body. "Who the hell are you?" The deadly and very much awake mercenary shifted in back seat of Fusco's cruiser. Finch awkwardly turned to face the man, immediately seeing the boiling rage as the man's eyes locked on the bodies laying in the parking lot.
"You're gonna pay for killing my men!"