Angel of the Lord Novel by Jose R. Leveriza Part 24

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Angel of the Lord Novel by Jose R. Leveriza Part 24

(For the previous episodes please scroll down to the older posts)

Bader kicked the security guard sprawled on the steps as the latter tried to grapple Bader’s legs. He fired once into the watchman’s chest when the poor bloke tried to draw his pistol as he rolled over like a log. The women shrieked in horror. Pandemonium ensued as everybody fled in all directions.

To discourage would be heroes and troublesome meddlers Bader squeezed off two more warning shots in the air then broke in a hasty run for the gates. Another uniformed security agent came sliding forward from the idled leviathan and fired at Bader from a genuflecting position. Bader ducked instinctively behind the rotating turnstiles.

Bader quickly surfaced and propped his aim on top of the electronic reader. The guard was an easy target out in the open hallway. Two well placed shots from Bader’s Glock pistol downed him backwards to the floor. Bader slid over the pinwheel and rested a bit with his back pressed to the steel gate. He checked if the coast is clear then headed to the right corridor where the front caboose was.

Bader deduced rightly that the electric commuter was immobilized from the darkened lights and the locked doors. He didn’t think he could break into the front cabin to commander the controls and hold hostage the engineer. Stragglers in the crowd caught in the corridor with Bader raised up their hands and cowered in the sides to let him breeze past. A third uniformed security with an ashen face laid his weapon in slow motion to the floor to clearly signal his capitulation to Bader who let him live and waved him to the side with his gun.

With no other way to turn, Bader ran forward to the middle of the tracks in the open air above the buzz of the street below. He bowed his head in fear of the hanging cables. He kept his gaze on steel plates running the length of the tracks marked with a warning in red, “Danger High Voltage.” He launched on a steeplechase cadence and held it unerringly as he plowed forward with urgency to build the biggest distance between him and Jason Burke.

Midway, the usual rubberneck retinue swarmed around Jason Burke and slowed his progress under the cavernous alcove. The bright side was they made Jason Burke a difficult target because of their crisscrossing. The other downside was that they gave away his location and announced his approach with loud rabble rousing.

Jason Burke worried that the unruly groupies dogging his every step would open him up like a sitting duck ready to be waylaid. The upside was the motley crew carried on like a pack of sniffing hounds which could telegraph back in an instant thru their cantankerous frenzy the sighting of elusive prey.

The pesky street urchins clung to Jason Burke like barnacles and tugged at his arm and clothing with star struck agitation. Their giggles and screeching chatter made the otherwise unflappable covert operative squirm and try to wedge his way with outstretched forearms serving as outriggers to clear the path ahead.

The whole coterie gasped in alarm and stepped back momentarily when Jason Burke pulled out his gun to begin his ascent on the sharply angled staircase leading up to the Pedro Gil Station. Like a cheering section egging on a competitor with reassuring catcalls, the bystanders crowed almost in unison,” he’s not up there; your quarry is running on ahead on the empty tracks!”

Jason Burke felt grateful for the unsolicited tip but played it safe and hugged the wall closely with his gun aimed forward leading the foray. He dashed and leaped over the tills in one swift motion while keeping a sharp eye for possible resistance, friendly or hostile. He stayed low according to the de rigueur of training manuals and traveled on nimble feet all along darting closely to the safety of the walls.

The panicked horde scooting nervously the reverse way tipped him off where Bader must be headed. He picked up the loose firearm abandoned by the wasted guard on the floor and tucked it in his waistband. He didn’t really want it because it could be a nuisance when he had to sprint with gusto. But thought he should get it out of the way lest shuffling feet trip over it and trigger a misfire.

Jason Burke ducked forward to the edge of the platform and caught his momentum with his right shoulder flushed against the last pillar that led to the tracks beyond in the open air. He waved back to the train engineer in the canopy of the stalled train who smiled ruefully and watched Jason’s every move while talking on a handheld radio.

A fast diminishing figure in the distance was rushing to make a clean getaway. But where in the world could Bader be headed? Jason Burke thought to follow suit and plunge right in onto the empty tracks in the blistering heat. But first he flipped on his phone and beeped Richard.

“He’s out there in the open Richard hopping like a rabbit over the high voltage rods.”

“Yup, I see him. Buzzard’s fit as a fireman. His legs are not missing a beat.”

“Think he’ll head all the way to the next stop?”

“Why not, he’s chugging along like a real locomotive plus that’s the only place with a convenient descent to street level.”

“I’m going in after him Richard. Keep me posted what gives.”

“Don’t get your ass toasted rookie.”

Jason Burke took off in a repeating rhythm of hops, skips, and jumps as he jogged with unbroken sequence over the railway gaps. The searing heat gave him a scorching welcome aboard. The humidity invaded into his nostrils and ears. The hazy diesel fumes enveloped his hunched form with a cloak of smog.

Lobo Vol 6 Co-Starring RYAN EIGENMANN

The Twenty-third Episode of Angel of the Lord Novel by Jose R. Leveriza II

(For previous episodes please scroll down to older posts)

A swarming crowd warms up to an unruly scene real quickly. It seems easy with their gut instinct to smell who the good guys are in a fluid confrontation. The wary onlookers cringing for cover under the arcs in the bowels of the overhead transit ushered Jason Burke through the labyrinth with cluing waves of their hands. “He went that way!” They chorused with abandon aided by exaggerated body English.

The public utility jeeps plying the outside lanes of the viaduct echoed with cheers from the passengers. The golden haired preacher with marine cut and lanky stature which highlighted his wholesome boyish appeal drew the instant empathy of the spectators. His unobtrusive get-up of ruffled short sleeved white shirt with matching black preppie tie and pants cloaked him with stereotyped hero vestments. The jeepney drivers peppered their horns like trumpets of Jericho to herald Jason Burke as he waltzed towards the fray.

Jason Burke crouched low but kept his line of vision up as he galloped with rapid tiny steps that danced the jig of the Special Forces obstacle course. His alert eyes panned back and forth 180 degrees sizing up the nooks and crevices for any sign of snipers. By reflex he repeatedly pressed on the reassuring feel of his HK 9 mm tucked at the back. The grueling pace dissuaded him from reaching for the smart mobile to flip on to Richard with his eye in the sky. Wouldn’t work deep in this dark tunnel anyway, he thought.












































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(Twenty-third episode continued)



The dashboard speaker phone crackled with another running update.

“Gunman bounding up the wrong set of stairs. Exiting throng in an uproar. Private sentry moved to accost him but lost footing and was shoved down the steps.Gunshots, two, three!”

“Stop the trains right this minute! Get on the national security channel pronto and give the Palace code!” President Harry Sey fumbled the safety catch of his .45 caliber Gold Cup in a nervous twitch as he fiercely barked the order to the matted transceiver. The barreling convoy swept the curve that flowed into the Quirino Highway with fly-by precision. The screaming big bikes of the blue helmets blinked with lighthouse beams in the distance as their flight path caromed near vanishing point.

The President as was his daily habit when he felt overwhelmed by a crisis flicked on the built-in MP3 and played the Maha Mantras to the Abba Krishna. In unison both he and his driver bodyguard began the chant. “Hare Krishna, Hare Rama,” they fervently intoned.

The LRT (light rail transit) control center was sound proofed and looked unperturbed by the tumult in the street below. The cozy official looking blue padding over wooden vinyl tops and surfaces with matching braided upholstery blended smoothly with the soothing whirr of the ultra efficient air-conditioning console. Isolation and insulation from the turmoil of the landscape outside offered an ideal workplace that was keyed for a more highly responsive and unobstructed vantage position in the running of a railway system.

The panoramic wide angle screen spanned the entire far wall from floor to ceiling like an outsized home theater. The kaleidoscope throbbed with periodic pin lights that merrily ebbed their way towards square pegs brightly marked with numbers corresponding to way stations. The dispatcher rooted to the front seat at the center of the digital marsh conducted the intersecting array with virtuoso synchronization. Buttons in lieu of a baton vented the beat and the rhythm that made the electronic maze fall in with a systematic order akin to a symphony of the railway tracks.

Suddenly the bright graphic glow darkened ominously to a shade of purple. Digital neon embers marched across the top of the monitor baring the words: National Security Override. Code 210 Office of the President.

Alarm beeping sounded off in sensurround cacophony making the once peaceful threshold jump with an alacrity. The Director in disheveled pose came barging past the security door to plop unceremoniously beside the open mouthed dispatcher who initially turned to the Director with alarm but was drawn back by the big bold letters that emblazoned over everything.

“National Emergency Top Priority. National Security Headquarters Camp Crame. Official Channel 719. Shut Down The Entire System Immediately By Order of the Office of the President.”

The Director keyed away on the keyboard with dazzling dexterity. The whole system hunkered down to a dead stop. Trains between and inside stations jammed to a complete stop in the middle of the tracks. “Damn another brownout!” The commuters began to wail.

Twenty-Second Sequel of Angel of the Lord Novel by Jose Roxas Leveriza

The armored Chevy Suburban blaring high pitched alarm tones and glittering with circling blue rays levitated with breakneck velocity like a wayward UFO. With gnashing gears it roared up the ramp to Nagtahan bridge. The back-up posse of growling black SUV behemoths of the Presidential security detail struggled to keep abreast with the blistering pace.

“Gunman in business suit streaking through mid island divider beneath columns of elevated rail. Closing in by 50 meters towards stairs of Pedro Gil Station. He fired warning shots to ward off pedestrians out his way.”

V’8’s blazing maximum RPM, the President’s bullet proofed 4WD custom truck lurched forward to land with a groaning thud on the crest of the bridge bearing the full weight of the double thick protective steel plates. President Harry Sey knuckled the heavy tinted windshield with vehemence. “C’mon let’s fly, give it all you got,” he contorted with his shoulders to drive it on.

Jason Burke unhinged himself from the rumpled entanglement with Ellebana’s coiffed form.” Stay down, don’t move Counselor. I’ll break after Bader and see if I will draw rear guard fire. Keep your gun handy then pull back to the safety of the hospital. Check if anybody got hurt in the room!” Jason Burke coiled to spring up to his feet and affectionately brushed back Ellebana’s fine hair

Jason Burke bolted quickly for the underbelly of the elevated rail. He crouched low and darted sideways to offer a hard target for hidden ambushers. He tucked his automatic at the back and smoothed the ends of his white shirt to slide under his belt as he ran. He heard the trailing voice of Ellebana call out with concern. “Be careful, Reverend!”

“Ellebana down on the ground by the curb twenty meters from hospital gate. Missionary up on his feet and giving chase under the LRT. Beat patrolmen approaching the scene from Faura. Thirty meters!”

“Scramble 911 ambulance. Whip it out to Ellebana right now. Get people from hospital emergency to run out to assist Ellebana in front!” President depressed the control on his side window and stuck his arm out to flail at the slow moving cars in front. The driver turned to him with alarm. “Mr. President, get back in. You could be a target!” He warned.

The acrobatic Presidential squadron of SUV’s oddly trailed by motorcycle escorts clawing to catch up went airborne on the descent from top of the bridge. The wave looked like volcanic flow rampaging down to engulf everything at the bottom. The sea of bumper to bumper traffic that straddled the avenue from end to end like a huge parking lot got convulsed to scamper away like jumpy tropical fish.

The Harley type choppers of the mounted troopers seesawed left to right menacingly. They sideswiped the stubborn and the slow moving laggards to the sides and like hulking brutes bullied their way to the front of the mad caravan. The lead escort crunched to a stop directly under the traffic signals, got down and overrode the red lights to purge the directional flow of vehicles in the path of the caterwauling formation. All other points converging on the corner came to a standstill as the lumbering giants stampeded across like a herd of spooked battle tanks.

The President made the sign of the cross as a Christian then started to chant Hare Krishna Hare Rama to the Abba Krishna Almighty Father God.