An Armageddon Duology by Erec Stebbins Read Free Book Online Page A

toward the main entrance. He was not spotted until he had crossed nearly two-thirds of the distance. Shouts came from the voices of his security team, and his peripheral vision sensed several shapes converging from behind. They would reach him in seconds.
    He was through the doorway, the sunlight of the clear October day blinding him momentarily, his eyes squinting desperately to find the black SUV.
    There. Blackened windows hid the occupants. O'Kelly surrendered all pretense of casualness and sprinted toward the truck.
    “Mr. O'Kelly!”
    His bodyguards cried behind him. The men were under the strictest orders. They would have him in their arms within seconds for this dangerous breach of protocol, especially after recent events. The black vehicle was still fifty yards away. He’d never make it.
    Hornets buzzed past his head. There were screams. He heard bodies fall heavily to the ground. He didn’t look back. He ran harder, the back door of the SUV opening, arms grabbing his, pulling him in violently. The vehicle lurched forward with screeching tires and he was thrown backward into a seat.
    But he had seen. In a split second upon entering the truck and turning his head toward the plaza in front of the building, it was all too clear.
    The fiends had shot and killed the men that had been charged to protect him. Their bodies were strewn across the cement and steps, people racing in panic away from the scene.
    O'Kelly closed his eyes. God only knew what they were going to do to him.

8
    Vanished
    R ebecca Cohen sat in the back of the FBI vehicle, nearly sick from the lurching dash through traffic. Staring at the choppy video feed on her phone was surely not helping the situation. They should have just called. But they needed to see each other.
    “On the tarmac, Rebecca,” said a pixelated Savas, his phrases peppered with staccato pauses. “This is getting a bit insane.”
    They had not been back a day before the next crisis had pulled them apart again. This time it was sudden disappearances of important people both in New York and in Washington. Congressman, aides, more CEOs, workers at the Federal Reserve Board. Whatever theories they had before were jettisoned. Whatever was going on, it was highly coordinated and professionally implemented.
    “Feels like we’re back under siege from Mjolnir,” she said to the frozen face of Savas. “John?”
    There was a pause, and then the connection reestablished. “Lost most of that except for Thor’s Hammer. But I think I know what you were saying.”
    They had split their team at Intel 1. Savas had taken ex-Marine Frank Miller with him to DC. They would soon be on their way to the Capitol. Cohen had called another agent on their team, JP Rideout, and they were going to meet at the headquarters of Citigroup. The other cases were reported disappearances, no shows and quiet vanishings. But not at Citi. There were witnesses. There were bodies. There had been a failed pursuit by NYPD.
    The sedan jerked to a stop and Cohen dropped the phone, the connection with Savas lost. She quickly texted him that she had arrived and would talk to him later. He would soon be busy as well.
    The driver opened the door for her and she stepped out quickly, heading for the crowd of police and decorations of yellow tape in front of the building. The glass and steel structure towered above her. Horns blared like a strong wind from the snarled traffic of rubberneckers. Here to see the bloodbath . She counted four bodies. Two were near the exits, and two had moved toward Park Avenue before they were cut down. A black NYPD detective met her.
    “Agent Cohen?” he asked. “I’m Tyrell Sacker. You’re it for the Feds?”
    “No, we have a crime group en route and another special agent from my division.”
    “Which is?”
    “Intel 1.”
    The cops eyes opened wider. “Well, we need the best. Reports are coming in from all over the city. The radio’s total chaos.”
    “I know. Look, we’re going to go