Black Dawn - Page Four - Thomas Rand
BLACK DAWN
THOMAS RAND: MI6 UNDERCOVER AGENT, LONDON, ENGLAND.
Thomas Rand figured they had been driving for about twenty minutes. He had been counting the turns, the stops, listening to the traffic, the bustle of the London he had grown up in, trying to paint a mental picture as to where they were going. And his conclusion? They were going around in circles. Thomas was sure of it. A deliberate attempt to hide their final destination.
Not that it mattered. If he survived the night, he'd be surprised. Viktor Radovic wasn’t known for his hospitality.
The name carried a weight that Thomas had felt for months. Each whispered mention of Viktor was laced with a fear rarely spoken aloud. Viktor was a man who operated from the shadows, controlling chaos with precision and cold calculation. And now, for reasons Thomas could only begin to fathom, Viktor had taken a personal interest in him.
Thomas shifted in his seat, pulling at the cable ties around his wrists. They didn’t budge. One of the men glanced at him, sensing his movement. “Don’t bother,” the thug grinned. “You’re not getting out of them.”
Thomas met his gaze with a steady, defiant glare. “I’ve escaped from worse.”
The thug grunted as the van screeched to a stop. “There’s no one worse than Viktor.”
The side door of the van slid open, and he was dragged outside into the cavernous expanse of a semi-abandoned warehouse. The air was cold and smelled of oil, rust, and chemicals; dim overhead lights swung from the high ceiling, casting long, skeletal shadows across the concrete floors and two more vans--white, with water company logos--and three black SUVs.
“Inside,” one of the men barked, shoving him forwards as massive steel doors groaned shut behind him.
“Any chance we could discuss this?” Thomas asked with a smile. “I just remembered, I’ve made other plans.”
Neither responded. Instead, they pushed him towards a narrow doorway and into a large dimly lit room. Three doors, including the one he had been pushed through, a metal table in the centre, and a single chair. The guards shoved him into it and secured his wrists to the arms with two sets of steel cuffs.
“Don't you go anywhere,” one of them growled before positioning himself by the furthest door with the other thug. "Viktor will be here soon."
He wasn't wrong. Thomas barely had enough time to test the strength of the cuffs when the door the two thugs were guarding creaked open. Viktor Radovic. He was tall, broad, with a sharp, angular face and a four-day-old stubble. He looked the type to not raise his voice, knowing he didn’t need to. People obeyed Viktor. If they didn’t, they knew what would happen.
His mere presence had filled the room with an air of authority and an unsettling, quiet menace. His own men had visibly straightened. They knew better than to be careless around Viktor.
He approached the table and stepped into the light, his grey eyes piercing through the shadows at Thomas. “Well, well, Thomas Rand. Finally, we meet."
Thomas kept his expression intentionally neutral. “Can’t say I’m thrilled.”
Viktor slowly circled the table. “You’ve been quite the nuisance, Thomas. Digging where you shouldn’t, asking questions, getting close to things that are… shall we say, delicate. Interfering in matters far beyond your understanding.”
Vicktor's voice was soft, casual, almost too casual. There was an edge. A sharpness to his words. Thomas had been in enough interrogations, on both sides of the table, to know Viktor wanted something from him. Which was probably the only reason he was still alive. But what? That was the question.
Thomas needed more information. “Funny,” he said, forcing a smirk. “I could say the same about you. Westminster’s a bold move, even for you.”
Viktor’s lips curled into a smile. “Ah, Westminster, yes. It will be quite the spectacle. The world will watch as an empire crumbles in real time.”
Thomas’s jaw tightened. “Not gonna happen.”
Viktor chuckled. It was a cold, humourless sound. “Bold. I admire that. But you should know, Thomas, I’ve been watching you for a very long time. You and I… We're not so different.”
Thomas frowned. “Really? Pretty sure I'm not a mass-murdering psychopath hell-bent on world domination.”
“Oh, we are more alike than you realise,” Viktor continued, ignoring the insult. “Your entire life, you have played the hero, chasing ghosts, trying to stop men like me. But never have you stopped to wonder why. Why you were chosen for this game.”
“What are you talking about?”
Viktor straightened. “You have been groomed, my friend. Watched, tested, shaped into exactly what they needed you to be. MI6, The Black Dawn, others you don’t even know exist. We’ve all had our eyes on you.”
Thomas clenched his fists, pulling against the cuffs. “You’re delusional.”
“Am I?” Viktor’s gaze sharpened. “You think you’ve been hunting me? No, Thomas. You’ve been following the breadcrumbs I left for you. And now you are here, right where I want you.”
Thomas forced himself to remain calm. “If you wanted me dead, I’d be dead already.”
“Very true,” Viktor said. “Because death would be a waste. You’re special, Thomas. There are big plans for you. Bigger than you can imagine.”
Thomas narrowed his eyes. “Doesn’t matter. I already told my handler about the bombs beneath Westminster. They’re moving to stop you. They'll find them and the King won't get anywhere near that building.”
Viktor’s smirk deepened. “Your handler? Ah, yes, Frank Herbert. You should know, he’s already dead. Or at least he will be. But not before he gives the information we need him to give, when we need him to give it.”
“You’re lying.”
“Am I?” Viktor’s voice was almost amused. "Everyone has a price, Thomas. And he isn’t the only helpful agent. You saw the two vans on your way in? Yes, of course you did, you don't miss a thing, do you? Both are packed with explosives. When the time is right, all the information will point to them as the threats. They will keep everyone locked inside Westminster. It is, after all, the safest place to be with bombs exploding outside. They will think they’re safe, but in reality, they’ll be waiting for their end.”
Thomas pulled against his restraints. “You don’t have to do this. Innocent people will die.”
“Innocent?” Viktor sneered. “No one is innocent, Thomas. Not you, not me, not them. This is the natural order. The strong survive, and the weak perish.”
“You’re insane,” Thomas spat.
“Perhaps,” Viktor said, his voice softening. “But history will remember me as a visionary. And you, Thomas… you’ll have a front-row seat.”
He gestured to one of his guards, who approached with a syringe. Thomas tensed, struggling as the needle pierced his neck. A cold, numbing sensation spread through his veins, and the world began to blur.
“Sweet dreams, Mr. Rand,” Viktor said, his voice fading as darkness closed in. “When you wake, the world will be a very different place.”
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