Suicide Squad (27 page)

How could he complain?

He checked his weapons, then turned back to the bank and breathed in deeply.

“God,” he said, “I love the smell of burning cash in the morning.”

* * *

Hawk angled the Blackhawk low to the ground and sped through the city canyons.

“Are we at all close to being in the clear yet?” Waller asked.

Hawk checked the GPS. “Less than a mile, ma’am. Just a few more minutes, then it’ll be all she wrote.”

Waller sighed. “Thank you, George,” she said. “This turned out to be a real hell-storm. How could we have known?”

Hawk didn’t answer. Whatever she was talking about was above his pay grade, and she knew it. He was a convenient listening post, and with him there would be zero recriminations.

“Ma’am,” Hawk shouted suddenly. She looked up.

He was pointing to a figure standing in the distance. A man, far taller than a normal human being. Waller saw him raise his hands. She saw them glow, and then he released a bolt of burning energy. Toward them.

“Evade,” she shouted. “Get us the hell out of here. Hurry.”

Hawk adjusted the throttle as he pushed up the collective. The Blackhawk jerked upward, but the bolt struck home, shearing off the Blackhawk’s rotor, dissolving its metal frame.

Hawk turned to Waller.

“Ma’am, I hope your seatbelt’s fastened. This isn’t going to be gentle.”

She held on as the Blackhawk belly flopped onto the street, then ground up the asphalt while spitting sparks and smoke, until finally it plowed into an abandoned bus.

As they came to a rest, Waller checked herself out, looking for blood, feeling for broken bones.

“I think I’m okay, George,” she shouted. “You did great. We survived. I don’t know how you did it or where we are, but we’re breathing. Thank God for that.

“George?” she said. “
George
?”

He didn’t answer.

She leaned to look into the cockpit. It was a jumble of twisted steel. The cabin had been crushed when the Blackhawk slammed into the bus. Hawk wasn’t moving. Parts of the helicopter’s steel frame had skewered him.

She told herself not to panic, recited her mantra, coined when she was still in the field, before she became one of the top brass she used to hate.

If you get yourself into a bad situation, you can get yourself out of it.
The pounding of her heart, so loud she could hear it in her ears, started to abate.

Waller saw several EAs skittering over the debris. They were headed for the Blackhawk. One of them was wearing a SEAL uniform.

She tried to get out of her seat, but she was still belted in. Smoke was filling the cabin and she could smell the stink of hydraulic fuel. It was dripping into the broken remains.

Propelled by sheer instinct, she clawed at the seatbelt until the buckle finally released. She tried to push herself out of the seat, but her left leg was trapped in the twisted steel tangle. Controlling her growing panic, she tried to pull her leg free.

George’s neck had broken in the crash. She reached for his carbine, lying on the floor beside him. She hooked a finger on the sling and dragged it to her.

There was a reflection in Hawk’s window.

She whirled and fired through the cabin’s aluminum wall. Kept firing until the carbine ran dry. She reached for Hawk again—his chest rig was filled with full magazines. She strained to reach one of the mags and managed to pull it free with two fingers, but it slipped and fell to the ground, just out of reach.

She keyed her radio.

* * *

Flag was on the roof of the Federal Building, along with GQ and the others, when his comm feed buzzed. He saw Waller’s ID flash across his screen.

“Queen Bee,” he said. “You copy? Havoc for Queen Bee.”

GQ lowered his own phone. “Operations just confirmed she’s down on K West.”

Flag turned to Deadshot, but Lawton already guessed what was coming next.

“Let’s go,” the colonel said. “The mission’s not over.”

“It is for me.” Deadshot stepped back. He wasn’t having any of this. “We had a deal.”

Flag shook his head. “The deal was to get her to safety. She’s not there.” He turned and raced down the stairwell, followed by Katana, GQ, and the half-dozen or so surviving SEALs. Deadshot and the Suicide Squad watched, angry about the sudden shift in events.

“So, what now?” Diablo asked.

Deadshot was seething. “Got no choice,” he said. “The rescue blew up in our faces. Let’s get this the hell over with.”

* * *

“Hooray. I’m back!”

As they exited the Federal Building, Harley sat on the hood of a Beemer, looking beat-up beautiful.

“I missed you guys sooo much.”

She was smiling at them, but Deadshot could tell the grin was forced. Grime clung to her face where there had been tears.

“Aren’t you dead?” Croc said.

“I got better,” she replied. “These things happen, you know.”

Deadshot gave her a thumbs up. “Well, I don’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m glad you made it,” he said, offering his hand to help her off the car.

She took it and slid to the pavement.

“So who are we supposed to kill now?” She leaned close to Deadshot and talked to him in a stage whisper for everyone to hear. “Tell me it’s him,” she said, theatrically pointing at Flag, who was staring back at her.

“You’re hilarious, Quinn,” the colonel said.

She curtsied then danced off, joining the others.

“That’s exactly what Mister J always tells me.”

“Hey, Craziness!” the deep voice called to her. She turned, catching the baseball cap Boomer tossed to her. She laughed as she dropped it on her head and thumbed it to a sexy tilt.

Like it or not, she was one of the guys.

Before the Eyes of the Adversary, hundreds of thousands of suburban commuters yawned their way into the crowded subway cars each day, to begin the hour-long journey into the Midway City Rail Station, only to reverse the trip nine hours later.

Amanda Waller didn’t care about the efficiency of Midway’s transit system. She was being dragged against her will into its bowels by two hideous creatures, one still wearing his SEAL uniform, the other her police blues.

Waller resisted and tried to squirm free, but their grip was firm. She saw one of the EAs hunkered by the case that contained Enchantress’s desiccated heart. Incubus stood behind him, towering over the creatures that were scurrying about. Enchantress joined them at the man’s side.

“Bring her here,” Enchantress ordered. “Her thumb goes on the machine.”

Waller tried to pull back, but they held her firmly.

“I’ll fight you all the way to hell.”

Incubus looked down at her and smiled. “Resist and we will cut off your thumb and put it into the machine.”

Enchantress laughed as she watched Waller squirm. “We would prefer to preserve your living flesh for as long as we might need it, but we will do whatever we need to. One way or another, my heart will be freed and returned to me.”

The two EAs forced Waller’s thumb to the scanner. She heard the machine tick as if gears were grinding into place. The case lid slid open and Incubus looked inside. He was pleased.

“It is here, sister. Ready to rejoin with you.” He held up the shriveled organ and showed it to her. She lightly brushed her hand over it, caressing it.

“Now, brother,” she said. “I do not want to wait a moment longer.”

He carefully picked up the heart with both hands and pressed it into her chest, pushing it inside her ribcage. It started to beat again, and grow. They could both see it glowing green through luminous skin that was crisscrossed with thick black veins. She seemed to be wearing a cape made of smoke that pumped out of her body, and looked like a demonic god.

She thought she was one, too.

Waller stared at her in horror.
What have we set loose?
The witch had been waiting for this moment for a very long time.

She waved her hands and created an image between them. Flag was walking on a street, just outside the rail station. He was holding a weapon, looking worried, maybe even frightened, but he wasn’t about to stop.

“You see him,” Enchantress said. “The soldier. He’s outside now, coming for you.” Waller stared at the ghostly image, and she prayed somehow that Flag would find a way to save her.

“You look to him with hope in your eyes, but long before he finds you, we will eliminate him. After all, as important to him as you think you are, I have what he truly wants.

“Thank you,” she said to Waller. “For everything. You were so useful.”

“I never liked you,” Waller said, still thrown by that ghastly, shrunken image. “I should have had you killed when I had the chance.”

“Too little, too late—it is your problem, and not mine,” Enchantress said as she removed her robe and tossed it to the floor. “Anyway, he will die, but you… well, as the saying goes, it is better to reign in Hell than serve in Heaven. Isn’t that right?”

Waller squirmed as she tried to free herself from the creatures’ grip.

“And you are going to serve me very well in Hell. Oh. In case you wanted to know. I am an extremely unpleasant boss.”

“Do your worst, bitch,” Waller shouted.

Enchantress laughed. “How original, but it does cut right to the meat. Speaking of, I think I’ll start by slicing into all the precious secrets you keep hidden in your mind. You know the secrets I’m talking about. The ones about your leaders and their wonderful machines.”

Waller reacted with a sudden shiver as Enchantress stood and spread her arms out wide. Thick, clear tendrils poured from her spine and snaked forward.

“Don’t hold anything back, Amanda,” she said. “It will hurt a lot less if you work with me.”

Harley Quinn jumped up and down, waving her hands, whooping and whistling.

“Guys, over here! Guys. Hey, c’mon! Lookee what I found,” she squealed, pointing to the crashed Blackhawk. “I found it. Can I keep it?”

Flag ignored her and peered inside the shattered cockpit. “Waller’s not here,” he announced. “Where the hell is she?”

“She could have been thrown from it,” Deadshot suggested. “If that happened while they were still in the air, she’s street pizza now.”

Flag didn’t want to hear that. “Or she crawled out, which means she could be alive.”

“I vote with Lawton,” Boomer added, “and don’t tell me you don’t secretly agree. She is not a nice person.”

“Same could be said about you, Boomer.”

“Yeah, but I call myself a villain. I’m not pretending to be something I’m not.”

Flag crawled into the copter and rummaged for clues. “Oh come on, Harkness. You wear that villain crap like it’s a badge of honor, but you might just as well say, ‘I hurt people for my own benefit,’ because that’s what it comes down to. You do whatever the hell you feel like doing, and everyone else be damned. So just shut the hell up and do what you’re told.”

“We got ourselves lots of restocks,” Kowalski said as he and GQ unloaded ammunition from the rear of the downed aircraft.

“Take a case but leave the rest behind,” Flag said. “We can’t carry any more.”

“Not a problem,” Kowalski responded. “We can always go back and get more if we have to.”

“You see anything, Colonel?” GQ asked.

“Only enough to know she’s not here,” Flag said as he pulled himself out of the Blackhawk. “That means she either got out on her own, or was helped out.”

“By the monsters?” Croc asked. “Then she’s history.”

Flag didn’t agree. “Depends on why they took her.”

“If they took her,” Deadshot added. “We don’t know that yet. She could be one of them by now.”

“Until we know, we keep looking,” Flag said. “Let’s go.” They moved away from the wreckage.

Harley followed in the rear, walking alongside Katana.

“So what do you think, Gabby?” she asked. “Alive or dead? I’m starting an office pool. Five bucks to get in. Whoever’s closest to what really happened wins it all.”

Katana turned to her and shook her head. “Do you ever keep any thoughts to yourself?”

Harley grinned. “Share the wealth, Mister J always says.”

“Hey, Looney Tunes, ten bucks on that’s where we’re going,” Deadshot said. He pointed to the impossible sight ahead and above them.

Hovering above the rail station was a large suspended ring of abandoned vehicles, trash, and other street debris, all floating around a beam of bright, white light that was shooting up into space.

“That’s where we’re going, right? I mean, cause we’re certifiable idiots, so why wouldn’t we?”

Flag stared at the floating ring, a wave of conflicting thoughts and emotions washing across his features. Finally he seemed to come to a conclusion.

“Load up,” he said. “We’re in for a fight.”

“You think,” Deadshot replied, still staring at the floating ring of junk. As Flag motioned for them to move out, he wormed back into the Blackhawk for another helping of extra ammo. Enough was not nearly enough.

He reached for a box and saw Waller’s backpack and binder. On it was stenciled “Task Force X: TOP SECRET.” He flipped through it, studying the photos of Enchantress and the EAs. There was also a selection of surveillance photos of a huge man, taken in the subway.

Deadshot’s face tightened with anger.

* * *

The colonel was in the lead, talking with GQ as they prepared to head toward the rail station. The soldiers were getting ready and moving into position.

“Hey, Flag!” Deadshot called out. He looked pissed, and threw Waller’s binder at him. “Dammit, Flag, you knew exactly what we were walking into, didn’t you?”

Flag shot him a look. “I tell you what you need to know only when you need to know it. It’s how things work. Do you know I own a pickup truck with a blown engine? Not everything is relevant.”

“Lover’s spat, guys?” Harley rested her chin on her hands, and stared at them. She shook her head sadly. Croc, Diablo, and Boomer joined them. “Tell them,” Deadshot said, still staring daggers. “Tell them everything, because they deserve to hear it.”