Chapter 37

Jeffrey Sorren couldn’t believe that the shot he had just taken had missed Brandt’s heart. It had been a while since he had used this type of rifle, but the sights should not have mattered even at such short range. He made a mental note to spend more time with the weapon once this was over. It was an impressive looking weapon to him, and he was sure that its former owner, now with three center mass bullets put into him, wouldn’t miss it in the afterlife. He kept the sights trained on Brandt but hesitated to fire the weapon again. He couldn’t risk damaging the equipment that Avery may have been using.

Brandt clutched the server rack with his right arm, steadying himself as he went into fight or flight mode. With Sorren clearly aiming the rifle in his direction, it was flight that took priority for him. He would need to figure a way to outwit and outmaneuver his adversary. The burst of energy from his feet sent him flying across the open space into another row of server racks.

Sorren kept his sights trained in the direction he noticed Brandt escape to. “It’s no use hiding in here. All exits are locked down, and your friend Dan can’t help you anymore. Why don’t we end this in the way of gentlemen?” Sorren yelled out, hoping to be heard beyond the noise of the exhaust fans.

“Gentlemen? Is that how you took out all of your previous contracts? Did you fight Andrew like a man?”

Sorren swung the rifle in the direction of the voice as he slowly moved forward. “That was business, this is survival. Will you ever see logic, Mr. Brandt? I would apologize for Andrew, but what difference does it make. One of us is not leaving here alive.”

“That one would be you.”

The voice was now coming from somewhere behind Sorren. I can’t think with all of this damn noise. “I have the rifle. What do you have, a pea shooter? Come on out; you’ll have my word that I won’t shoot you.” He walked to the end of the row into a lane that gave him an overview of every row in the building. They were numbered from one to forty by the placards hanging from the ceiling and posts on the steel beams that ensured the structure’s integrity. “Which row are you in? It will make this a lot quicker.”

“I’m in row numbered Fuck You.”

“Not very nice.”. Okay, enough games. He sprinted down the entire stretch of numbered rows, and he saw a glimpse of movement. He no longer cared for the safety of the equipment, and he was getting pissed. After sending three shots down range, they clearly missed their intended target. He erupted into another sprint to catch up to Brandt but was only met with the smell of smoldering electronics.

“I don’t even know how you missed. Do you need a bipod or something?” Brandt called out and peaked from a rack far behind Sorren.

Sorren swiveled the barrel of the rifle and sent several more shots toward the voice. “This is getting boring, Mr. Brandt.”

Brandt aligned himself with the server rack to supply cover from the shots being sent in his direction. His plan was starting to work. There was more than one opportunity to take a shot at Sorren, but he kept the voices of Dan and Jean in his mind. Focus on the greater issue. He just needed to figure out a way to get back to the original server where he had dropped the USB drive. Poking his head around the corner again, he saw Sorren almost in full sprint coming toward him. There was another pause in movement as he brought the rifle back up to take a few more shots at him. Brandt removed his head from view quickly and scurried down the next row of servers.

“Hey!” he yelled in a whispered tone toward the gunman on the other side of the row and quickly took off again. He heard another burst of shots ring out, this time with sparks from damaged electronics to match where the shots were trained.

“Don’t think that I don’t know what you are doing, Mr. Brandt. I’m keeping count.”

Brandt wouldn’t have expected anything less from the assassin. It didn’t matter how many rounds were left in the magazine. It was about getting his opponent winded enough to keep making mistakes in accuracy. Brandt was a natural runner and had an emphasis on endurance, whereas, best that he could tell, Sorren relied more on building his muscles for strength. Brandt released two shots from his Glock 19 down the empty aisle just for good measure before rounding the corner and moving in an all-out sprint toward the row he needed to be in.

Another series of shots rang out from a couple aisles over. I think he’s confused now, probably a little tired, Brandt thought to himself as he moved more slowly as he got closer to the server rack. Looking around the floor below him, he did not immediately see the device. Come on. He knelt down, hoping to find it quickly before Sorren finally got his wish. Wedged between the two large racks, the shiny aluminum from the end of the USB drive glistened at him as he reached into the crevice to retrieve it. Thank god. He got to his feet quickly and looked around while aiming the pistol in the direction his eyes met. Clear. Without any more hesitation, Brandt plugged the device into the front of the console.

The celebration was over before it began as the buttstock of the rifle that Sorren now possessed cracked along the back of Brandt’s skull, instantly dropping him to the ground.

Sorren tried to regain his breathing. He had sprinted almost half of the length a football field to get to this spot. An audible alarm started to sound just as Brandt hit the floor. “What the hell?”

Brandt flipped himself back over and leaned against the rack. “It’s over. Avery is gone. Or at least will be soon.”

The message had left him conflicted. He didn’t know whether to feel relief in being free from his chains or sad because he had really started to believe in the cause. As he looked down at the defeated former Agent Brandt, it didn’t matter what he felt. It just needs to be over for him as well. “It’s not over yet.” He raised the barrel of the rifle directly towards Brandt’s face and pulled the trigger.