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TIME-CHASE by Bobby Asghar : Chapter 1

Click cover to read the first chapter of TIME-CHASE - http://bobbyasghar.com/tracker.html - https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B015BLQQ50 - https://www.amazon.com/dp/B015BLQQ50

BOBBY ASGHAR He paused

BOBBY ASGHAR He paused shy of the sensor on the wall, turned about and said something, which made one of the blue suits laugh out loud. The technician turned back to the door and swept his pass over the sensor. The door slid open, the three men stepped through, and the door slid shut behind them. The passage finally clear, the woman looped the surveillance feeds. Then she raised her thumb to brown eyes, and they swept around the corner. Even with premeditated stealth and contrived cover there was only so far they would get undetected: stories deep in a veritable ant’s nest, their eventual discovery was inevitable. The deeper into the complex they ventured, the higher the odds stacked against their lasting concealment. Then their dice finally crapped out: a door opened up and a blue uniform booming laughter stepped out into the passageway ahead of them. With only the colour of their garb to hide them, they froze rigid. The enforcer’s mirth tapered abruptly, the hairs of his neck rising to the white shadows in the corner of his eye. He reached for his gun but was fated never to reach it: his transitory hesitation was all the edge the intruders needed. The passageway pulsed with rapid muzzle flare as muted gunfire burst out at the enforcer, turning the walls from sanitary to opposing canvases of abstract red splatter. He fell back between them, crashed to the floor sputtering blood, his gun still holstered at his side. The three intruders scattered to the side walls, crouched low as the alarm sounded and the passageway dimmed. Eyes tense beneath a blinking wash of red, their ears rang to the periodic wail; their window of opportunity had been cut short. 6

TIME-CHASE Blue eyes tapped a button on the side of her mask and her ensemble morphed to black. Her companions followed suit, their colouration transmuting to match her own as she covered the open doorway with her gun. Whoever was in the room had triggered the alarm. She pointed at brown eyes, swept her hand towards her face, and then tapped at her head. Brown eyes nodded, and he crossed in front to cover her. She traced the room’s vis-scan feed, pulled it onto her visor, saw two uniforms—a man and a woman—crouching down on the other side of the doorway. She pointed her thumb down, then raised two fingers and motioned her hand around the doorframe. Keeping the feed online she raised her gun, one frigid eye on the two uniforms as they shuffled closer to the doorway, the other glaring through flashing red at the edge of the frame. She waited for the female enforcer’s gun arm to pull out past the frame. Then she opened fire, and her companions’ firepower added to her own. The enforcer cried out as she twisted, her fingers stretched by high current, her gun spinning free. She slammed into her partner’s chest, a raw gorge running along her upper arm. “Lopez!” he said. “I’m good, Cage,” she stuttered, pressing her hand to the wound, blood oozing out between her trembling fingers. Cage fired into the hall, more to keep the wolves from the door, and concrete chips and splintered wood showered him for his efforts. Though outgunned and pinned down, he only needed to hold them off until backup arrived. “Take cover,” Cage said, flinching to gunfire and shrapnel. 7

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