Suicide Squad (25 page)

“So what do we do?” Croc asked. “Get on our knees and pray someone gives us the right combination?”

“I’ve got this covered,” Flag said. “First, we need to secure the roof and sweep for shooters, so we can bring in our aviation assets. GQ, think you can handle that?”

“Next time come up with something that’s a challenge,” GQ said, saluting.

Flag laughed. “I’ll try better. Be careful.”

GQ and his SEALs headed back to the roof access. Flag crossed to the steel door and punched a code into the keypad. He turned to Croc.

“No need for someone else to give us the combo when I already have it.”

Croc nodded. “Definitely makes it easier. For once, I approve.” Then he added, “Why didn’t you say something before?”

“I like hearing you complain about nothing. The revelations keep you humble.”

“That’s never gonna happen,” Deadshot said. “We’re supposed to be in this together. Next time just give us the frickin’ intel.”

Ignoring him, Flag entered the last number then stepped back. They heard the rollers retract as the vault door eased open. Flag stepped through then turned back to the others.

“I’m going in,” he said. “You stay here. Don’t wanna give our VIP a heart attack.”

Harley grinned and tapped a little dance. “Aww, so sweet. He’s embarrassed of us. You’re such a cutie.”

Deadshot glared at the colonel. “This whole mission just sucks. I’d be better off back in Belle Reve, serving twenty. Least they’d tell me what I was supposed to do.”

“That can be arranged,” Flag replied. “And by the way, who says we’d let you go back? Detonator, remember?”

“Bite me,” Deadshot said. “This guy better cure cancer after all this.” Flag gave him a twisted smile then headed through the vault door.

The room was filled with computers and monitors. A block-by-block satellite view of downtown Midway was displayed across a dozen screens. One showed GQ’s SEALs scurrying across the roof.

Big Brother was watching, and for once Flag was glad of it.

Amanda Waller was sitting at the comm, impatient as always, staring at him. He could tell she was going to complain. She always did, but he’d learned years ago to tune out most of what she babbled.

“About time, Flag,” she said. “I’ve been monitoring your progress. There were at least a dozen ways you could have gotten to me faster.”

“Yeah, feel free to write me up after I get you back home, maybe even in one piece. You ready?”

“I’ve been ready ever since this began.”

“So why are we waiting?”

She stood up and took a last look at the room into which she had sealed herself to protect her from the inhuman hordes. A.R.G.U.S. techs still manned the computers, keeping track of EA interference. Flag saw his Suicide Squad on one of the larger screens, waiting at the vault as instructed. Maybe they were capable of following some orders after all. Especially those that instructed them to do nothing.

“You wouldn’t have made it without them,” Waller said. She nodded toward the screen. Flag gave her a
Yeah, so what?
look.

“We got lucky,” he responded, “and I don’t do luck. I do planning and precision.”

She scooped up important papers and stuffed them in her shoulder bag. “Admit it, Rick. I was right.”

“We can agree to disagree on that. I told you to get on the damn truck with me, but you said no. Then, with the infestation, you got yourself trapped here, and we had to squander a whole slew of precious lives to save you. From yourself. Why’d you stay, Amanda?”

Waller stared at the monitors, watching the different elements move across the screens.

“You know I’ve been studying your girlfriend.”

Flag didn’t want to talk about June. His personal life had nothing to do with Task Force X. He stared at one of the monitors—this one displaying a high-angle shot of the rail station. It was ringed by a palisade of stacked cars.

“What the hell did that?” he asked. “And why? There’s gotta be easier ways to construct a fence.”

Waller pushed the monitor so it faced away. “I’m talking now,” she said. “You listen. So, your girlfriend, she takes an average person—a yoga mom, an elderly retiree—and she turns them into soldiers who can take a headshot and still fight. Better, they don’t argue with their superiors. Sounds like heaven.”

Flag was listening. He wanted to hear where she was going.

“You know, it takes the military years to stamp out someone like you, Flag. She does it in a minute. Poof. An instant army.” She turned to one of the techs and barked an order. “Clip four hundred and seven.” He quickly typed in the info and the monitor displayed an exterior view of the station. A platoon of EAs exited the front doors and marched in perfect lockstep.

“Great,” Flag said. “They’re the damned Rockettes. So what’s the plan to stop her?”

To his surprise, Waller actually looked defeated. Flag had never quite seen her that way.

“There is no plan,” she said. “The suggestion box is wide open.”

He thought for a second. “They’re hard as hell to kill. I don’t think the government has enough bullets to put them all down, not if she can keep growing more. We have to nuke the place.”

Waller pointed to a different monitor, which showed a large ring of debris somehow floating above the station. “We thought of that, and acted,” she said flatly. “There’s a dozen W88 warheads trapped in that ring up there.”

Caught off guard, Flag stared at the ring and tried to make sense of it.

“How the hell is that floating? Are there wires hidden someplace I’m not seeing?” Waller enjoyed watching his confusion. As they watched, the ring began to pulse with a dark, strobing light. Somehow it felt evil to him. “What’s it doing now?”

Waller didn’t answer. She resumed stuffing papers into her bag.

“Waller,” he said again, a little louder, but she went to her desk and removed the case that contained Enchantress’s heart. She opened it to make sure the object was still inside. Flag noted it looked like a pincushion with who knew how many needles stuck in it.

“That’s the heart, isn’t it?” he said. “Her heart?”

* * *

Waller finally turned to him; her face betrayed both fear and anger.

“How’d she do it, Flag? How’d she game the system? With you watching her every move?”

Flag clenched his jaw. He looked at her and shook his head.

“I’ll accept the consequences.” But Waller was not going to let him off the hook.

“I’m your damned consequences, Rick.” Waller shoved the heart back in its case, shut the lid, then put the case into her bag. She looked up, and involuntarily let out a gasp. Deadshot was standing in the doorway. With his mask on, she couldn’t tell what he was thinking. How much did he overhear?

He walked over to Flag, then nodded toward Waller.

“I’d be careful out there,” he said calmly. “Everyone thinks we’re rescuing Nelson Mandela or something. Certainly not you.”

Waller didn’t care what he thought. “I can take care of myself.” She turned to the techs. “Shut it down. Wipe the drives.”

The techs rushed into action. They pushed buttons. Screens went blank, replaced by the programming code for self-deletion. Within seconds all information linked to the EAs and Task Force X was gone. As far as the databases were concerned, none of them ever existed.

He watched as monitor after monitor turned itself off. He turned to Flag, repulsed yet still in awe.

“You won’t believe me, because you’re locked in your temple of soldierly self-righteousness.” His jaw tightened. “A dude as two-faced as you wouldn’t last but a minute in the streets.”

“Says the guy who shoots people for money.” Flag laughed.

“Yeah, but you’ve seen all my cards.” Deadshot shrugged. “I don’t hide what I am.”

Flag turned away. “You really pride yourself on being bad. Don’t. That’s starting off on the wrong foot. My way got it done, and that’s good enough for me. End of argument.”

“Yeah, well. We’re both pretty much the same—but you know, when it comes down to people lying face down in the streets, our little differences don’t make a helluva difference.”

Gunshots suddenly exploded behind Deadshot and Flag. Waller was emptying her Glock into the technicians. Three bullets. Three headshots.

“What the hell?” Deadshot exclaimed. The fourth tech had time to react. Cowering, he tried to hide, but Waller coldly finished him off. Deadshot softly applauded.

“Lady, that was gangster. You get the golf clap for that.”

Flag just stared at her, surprised and confused.

“Why? They’re your people?”

“They’re not cleared for any of this.” She put away her gun then turned to him. “Any of it. You can live with it?”

Flag shrugged. “I’ve buried a lot of mistakes, too.”

Waller almost smiled at him. “We’re bonded by this. Never forget it.” Then they headed for the exit.

Waller might have been smiling at him—in her own weird way—but Flag knew she’d put that gun to his head and kill him in half a heartbeat, if she needed to. For now she still needed him.

When she no longer did, he’d make sure he was more than prepared to take her out first.

The Squad saw Deadshot heading back toward them. Flag followed. Then Amanda Waller appeared behind them.

“No. Way,” Harley said, and she stared. She had to be hallucinating. Waller walked past her and the others, not even acknowledging their presence.

“What the hell’s going on, Flag?” Boomer asked.

Flag pushed in until they were nose to nose.

“Need to know, Harkness,” he growled, and he didn’t look happy. “Count your blessings rescuing her was this simple. Travel should be waiting for us on the roof. Follow me.”

“Getting here was simple?” Boomer echoed. “What parallel universe spawned you, Flag?” They headed for the stairs to the roof. Harley shook her head back and forth, refusing to believe this.

“We’re done,” Flag bellowed. “Everyone shut up and let’s go home.”

“Yeah, right,” Boomer said. “Mission accomplished. What could go wrong now?” He turned to Harley—she was walking beside him. “There’s gonna be a nine-point-seven any minute now,” he whispered.

Harley agreed. The part of her that had been Dr. Harleen Quinzel knew exactly what Boomerang was thinking, even while couching his words.

“I bet you walk under ladders and chase black cats, too,” she said, giggling. He grinned back at her.

“I make my own luck, darling,” he said. “I say we kill both of ’em. Right now. Before they kill us.”

She was about to respond when Katana, silent as always, came up behind them.

“Later,” Harley whispered. “We’re gonna need a bigger boat.” She looked at Croc and Boomer. They were in. Diablo was hit and miss, and she wasn’t sure she could trust Lawton any longer. Still, they’d make do with what they had.

Katana moved in closer to Waller, but the woman held up her detonator. She didn’t need protecting.

“Y’all made it this far,” she said, grim as ever. “Don’t get high spirited on me now, and ruin a good thing.”

Croc watched as she pushed open the door and walked onto the roof.

“She’s a rock. Nasty, too. I like her.”

Boomer shook his head. “Whatta bunch a’ wankers. You guys got no self-respect.”

Harley laughed. “A village in Australia is missing its idiot. You should call home.”

“That I will, sweet thing,” he said “And tell ’em exactly where they can find you.”

The SEALs were waiting on the roof. They watched the Chinook as it circled over them, then arced down to come in for a landing.

“Ride’s here,” GQ called.

Moving to the edge, the Squad stared down from the roof at the remains of what had been a thriving city. So many buildings were lying in rubble now. Others burned out of control. Everywhere they looked they saw terrible devastation. They doubted there had been time to save anything. Good for looting, they all thought, but given a choice, all of them knew they would rather get the hell out of there.

Deadshot saw Flag staring at him. He knew they were both thinking the same thing.

It’s over and we didn’t kill each other.

* * *

Flag looked up and watched the Chinook hover just above them. Something was wrong but he was unable to put a finger on it.

He traded looks with Waller.

She had the same hunch.

* * *

The floor of the chopper was littered with the bodies of Special Forces soldiers. Each had had his or her throat slit, and was lying in their own blood. The Joker found it all so funny, but he didn’t have time for the already dead when there were so many others still breathing.

The pilots knew about the Joker. They knew he could kill them both while the chopper was still flying, and risk crashing to Earth, too. Or he might suddenly decide to let them go free, and give them a million dollars each for their inconvenience. They had no clue how he would react, or what they might do that could set him off. So they both tried to stay professional, do what was ordered and not talk back.

Joker glanced into the cockpit and saw his Panda Man standing behind the pilot and co-pilot, holding his gun close.

“Nice job, boys,” Panda Man said. “Keep it up and I won’t turn your heads into Swiss cheese.” Joker laughed. Somehow the words “Swiss cheese” always got to him. Like “spaghetti” and “weapons of mass destruction.”

Frost sat behind, watching the nanite expert, Dr. Van Criss, use a spectrum analyzer to find the signal of the bomb Waller’s people had implanted in Harley’s neck.

The Joker was impatient. He tapped his glowing purple shoes against the chopper’s metal floor, then began to pace back and forth.

“We’re waiting, Doctor.”

Van Criss’s heart almost jumped out of his skin. He was in a helicopter with a madman. No.
The
madman. Every second the doctor still lived was a second that brought him closer to death. He knew that to extend those seconds as long as he could he had to do everything the Joker demanded, then somehow indicate he had further value down the road. If the Joker thought he might need him, perhaps he would let him live.

“Everything’s working, sir, just as I said it would,” he insisted. “But I need to be closer to isolate her specific signal. Can you get the pilots to do that, sir?”