In the boardroom of Linqi, which sits on the penultimate story of the Lance, Mortimer Davidson demands to know from his CEO’s chair around a table frequented by the dead members of what had once been Linqi’s board, “Are those agency fuckers dead yet?” He is irate. This was supposed to be easy and would’ve been if not for their sudden meddling appearance. What’s worse is he was given no forewarning of the assault. He’ll make those with The Agency who serve him pay for failing to alert him of this incursion. First however, that incursion needs to be dealt with, violently.
“We…we don’t… S-Status is unknown sir.” One of Mortimer’s security people admits with a sheepish look on his fresh young face as he stammers.
Mortimer, a man in his late fifties with greying black hair and fiery amber coloured eyes, growls loudly and then without warning lifts his hand off the table he is sat at and snaps his fingers. The act itself is harmless, or at least it would be if not for the presence of his head of security, Declan Parfitt, who has just entered the room. In response Declan pulls his gun from its holster and blows out the brains of the security officer who had been too terrified to be aware of what fate would befall him for what are predominantly other people’s failings.
The dead body thumps to the carpeted floor. A sigh of satisfaction passes Mortimer’s lips in the moments prior to him querying of his head of security, “What are you going to do about this problem?”
“There’s only two of the squad remaining. It won’t take much to…” Mortimer cuts in and angrily points out, “That isn’t what I asked Declan.”
“I offer my humblest apology Sir.” Declan utters after a respectful bowing of his head. A short silence hangs. After it Declan continues. “I’ll handle this personally. They won’t get through me, you have my word Mortimer.”
“See that you do.” Is the short sharp reply Mortimer gives before waving Declan off. It’s how the CEO, now sole owner and leader of Linqi Corporation, likes to shoo people. Declan withdraws but as soon as he is out of earshot he orders a gaggle of his security personnel, “Don’t let anyone through this door unless it’s me and I’m alone. Is that understood?”
“Yes, it is sir.” Is the succinct reply that Declan is provided. He executes a sharp nod and then strides off. It’s time for a hunt. He’ll enjoy this. It’s about time The Agency remembered its place, which is at Mortimer’s feet, kissing them eagerly so as not to be dispatched like a pack of rabid boar. If Declan had had his way The Agency would have been disbanded, but Mort felt it necessary to keep-up appearances.
“The rest of you come with me. We have some unwelcome guests to deal with.” A twisted smile appears across Declan’s gaunt pale face, his shaved head shining in the overhead lights while his grey eyes ignore everyone around him. All he can see in his eyes are the tortured faces of the men he is going to kill. He knows the men, from their files alone. Which of the squad are still breathing he can only surmise as being Jaxson Orin and Ferris Cortez. The others don’t strike him as brazen enough to have gotten this far. At least Mortimer hasn’t asked about the damage to the lower levels when that Finch gouged into Linqi Lance. That time will come but by that point this will all be over. He’ll still kill whoever fired those shots for causing damage to his precious HQ building but it won’t be Declan so it matters little to the head of security.
“What level are they on?” The head of security asks crossing the threshold of the waiting elevator. He is closely pursued by his armed detachment.
“We can’t say sir. They entered the maintenance sector.”
“Then take an educated guess you brainless shit.” Declan’s tone is sharp but unlike Mortimer he isn’t about to execute one of his men for giving him an answer he doesn’t like. If he did Mortimer wouldn’t have a security division. Especially one made up of mainly ex-military types who unlike the squad assaulting Linqi Lance have no qualms about operating on the wrong side of the law. The majority had been mercenaries in a previous life, yet how they functioned and survived being this dull Declan will never know. The elevator doors slide shut.
“Shaft tops out three floors below our feet.” Is the reply that comes the head of securities way. Declan rolls his eyes knowing that the emergency shaft tops out precisely one floor below them. He pulls his pistol and in a blur slams the base of into the man’s nose. A satisfying crunch reaches Declan’s ears. It comes barely before the man’s screams of pain. Quickly Declan grows tired of the wailing, so executes the man with a quick shot to his bloody face. Maybe, he thinks, he can afford to thin the herd of uselessness a little from time to time.
“Who’s next in command?” Are the next words out the head of securities mouth after he has stabbed at a button to select the floor below. Many of those around Declan exchange fearful glances with one another. Clearly most of those present hope that it isn’t them.
In truth, Declan and his people could take the stairs. If they did they might catch the remnants of the squad as they’re ascending and yet he isn’t inclined to risk it. Principally, this is due to the fact that these idiots are so brainless that they might actually succeed in getting him killed and permitting their targets escape.
“I am sir.” Declan turns upon hearing the reply to find a substantial woman stood with perfect posture and a stern expression on her face.
“Good. You look capable. I’m getting off at the next floor. You go two below and then take the emergency shafts toward my position. That’ll flush them out, don’t you think?” There is slight movement at one corner of Declan’s mouth. It cannot be called a smile, grin or a smirk. In fact, it’s barely anything at all. Yet, the well built woman dressed in the typical black suit that the head of security and all his subordinates wear nods purposefully and then admits, “Yes sir. Without a doubt it’ll flush them out.”
Little time passes prior to the elevator reaching the floor where Declan said he would get off and without delay that is precisely what he does. Though, he makes certain to turn toward his assorted motley crew of security personnel and fix the heavy set woman, Charlotta, with a fierce stare. He hopes she understands his looks intent. If she does she offers no response positive or otherwise. Rather, the elevator doors slide closed, her having maintained the stare throughout. Declan smiles, turns on his heels, pulls his pistol and strides off.
He has no doubt that this is the floor the pair of infiltrators will want to reach. Mortimer would be horrified that Declan is taking the risk of facing them alone, but his old friend and boss underestimates his head of securities lethality. After all, he’s been enforcing Morts wishes and whims for almost forty years.