Read Online Callsign: Bishop - Book 1 (An Erik Somers - Chess Team Novella) by Jeremy Robinson, David McAfee - Free Book Online
Authors: Jeremy Robinson, David McAfee
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think of what it could have been used for when he spotted the empty potato chip wrappers in the corner.
Food storage, he realized. It had been cleaned out, as well. No surprise, there. He turned and walked out of the room, almost bumping into CJ. He dodged aside just in time to avoid crashing into the man. Why was he back already? Had he found something? Had he even looked?
“That was fast,” Bishop said.
“Sorry, B,” CJ said. “I should have warned you I was there.”
“Did you find anything?” Bishop said, ignoring the apology.
“As a matter of fact, I did. That’s why I was coming to get you. Follow me.”
CJ turned and walked back the way he’d come. Bishop fell into step behind him, wondering what was so important CJ couldn’t just tell him what he’d found. When they reached the other end of the hall CJ opened a door on the right. Judging by the icon painted on the front of the door, he was leading Bishop into the facility’s lavatory.
Bishop stepped into the room and stopped. Not everyone had left the facility, it seemed.
Two dead men sat on the floor in a rust-colored puddle of dried blood, propped next to one of the urinals. The bodies leaned against the wall in a sitting position on either side of a urinal. Both looked to be of Arab descent, with black hair and dark, Mediterranean skin that had paled somewhat after their deaths.
The cause of death for each was immediately obvious. One of the men had a flat spot on the back of his head where his skull had been caved in, and the other sported a single gunshot wound to the head. The dry air and moderate temperature had combined to preserve the bodies a bit, but decomposition had begun, and the room smelled of dead flesh.
“That’s nasty,” CJ said. “What kind of guy wants to take a leak with that right next to him?”
Bishop ignored the joke. There was nothing funny about this. “Any idea who they might be?”
“A couple of terrorists who pissed off the rest of the bunch?” CJ offered.
“Maybe,” Bishop said. “But weren’t there two guys from Hassi that led the terrorists here by mistake?”
“You think that’s who these two are?”
“It’s as good a theory as any. And I know how we can find out.”
“How?”
“I think this place had security cameras inside. I’ve noticed a bunch of wires close to the ceiling that look like they’ve been snipped. If we find the room where their security was based, maybe we can scan the video files. That should tell us something.”
CJ’s eyes widened. “That’s a pretty good idea. But what if they took the security system?”
“I don’t think they did,” Bishop said. “They might have taken the cameras, but I think the system itself is still here.”
“You saw it, already. Didn’t you?”
Bishop nodded. “Just the base unit. Back in that first room. If we follow those wires,” he pointed to the ceiling, where a group of cables ran along the length of the wall, “we should be able to find it.”
“You’re good,” CJ said, his smile returned. “Let’s do it.”
The two followed the wires to a room in the center of the facility. The door was solid steel with a large window made from reinforced glass. The door stood ajar, and Bishop pulled the handle to reveal a small room with a bank of monitors on the front wall. There were eight monitors in all, and each one flashed static, casting the room in an eerie light. On the left hand wall was an empty rifle rack, and on the right wall was a row of cabinets. All the doors were open, showing them to be empty. Here and there a stray round sat on floor, the brass casings glinting in the light of the monitors, and Bishop guessed the cabinets to have been used for ammunition, among other things. The jihadists had even taken the chairs.
“They really cleaned this place out,” CJ said.
Bishop stepped into the room. He walked over to the bank of monitors and examined them. The equipment had been left intact. The terrorists
Food storage, he realized. It had been cleaned out, as well. No surprise, there. He turned and walked out of the room, almost bumping into CJ. He dodged aside just in time to avoid crashing into the man. Why was he back already? Had he found something? Had he even looked?
“That was fast,” Bishop said.
“Sorry, B,” CJ said. “I should have warned you I was there.”
“Did you find anything?” Bishop said, ignoring the apology.
“As a matter of fact, I did. That’s why I was coming to get you. Follow me.”
CJ turned and walked back the way he’d come. Bishop fell into step behind him, wondering what was so important CJ couldn’t just tell him what he’d found. When they reached the other end of the hall CJ opened a door on the right. Judging by the icon painted on the front of the door, he was leading Bishop into the facility’s lavatory.
Bishop stepped into the room and stopped. Not everyone had left the facility, it seemed.
Two dead men sat on the floor in a rust-colored puddle of dried blood, propped next to one of the urinals. The bodies leaned against the wall in a sitting position on either side of a urinal. Both looked to be of Arab descent, with black hair and dark, Mediterranean skin that had paled somewhat after their deaths.
The cause of death for each was immediately obvious. One of the men had a flat spot on the back of his head where his skull had been caved in, and the other sported a single gunshot wound to the head. The dry air and moderate temperature had combined to preserve the bodies a bit, but decomposition had begun, and the room smelled of dead flesh.
“That’s nasty,” CJ said. “What kind of guy wants to take a leak with that right next to him?”
Bishop ignored the joke. There was nothing funny about this. “Any idea who they might be?”
“A couple of terrorists who pissed off the rest of the bunch?” CJ offered.
“Maybe,” Bishop said. “But weren’t there two guys from Hassi that led the terrorists here by mistake?”
“You think that’s who these two are?”
“It’s as good a theory as any. And I know how we can find out.”
“How?”
“I think this place had security cameras inside. I’ve noticed a bunch of wires close to the ceiling that look like they’ve been snipped. If we find the room where their security was based, maybe we can scan the video files. That should tell us something.”
CJ’s eyes widened. “That’s a pretty good idea. But what if they took the security system?”
“I don’t think they did,” Bishop said. “They might have taken the cameras, but I think the system itself is still here.”
“You saw it, already. Didn’t you?”
Bishop nodded. “Just the base unit. Back in that first room. If we follow those wires,” he pointed to the ceiling, where a group of cables ran along the length of the wall, “we should be able to find it.”
“You’re good,” CJ said, his smile returned. “Let’s do it.”
The two followed the wires to a room in the center of the facility. The door was solid steel with a large window made from reinforced glass. The door stood ajar, and Bishop pulled the handle to reveal a small room with a bank of monitors on the front wall. There were eight monitors in all, and each one flashed static, casting the room in an eerie light. On the left hand wall was an empty rifle rack, and on the right wall was a row of cabinets. All the doors were open, showing them to be empty. Here and there a stray round sat on floor, the brass casings glinting in the light of the monitors, and Bishop guessed the cabinets to have been used for ammunition, among other things. The jihadists had even taken the chairs.
“They really cleaned this place out,” CJ said.
Bishop stepped into the room. He walked over to the bank of monitors and examined them. The equipment had been left intact. The terrorists
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