The Edge of Armageddon (15 page)

Together, they passed through the still swinging front doors of the sports shop and into its vast, silent interior. Displays, shelving and clothes racks stood everywhere, along every aisle. Lighted tiles provided illumination, set up in the open-framework ceiling. Hayden stared at the reflective white floor and saw dust-smeared footprints leading into the heart of the store. Hurrying along she checked her mag and righted her vest. A face peeking out from under a clothes fixture made her flinch, but the fear etched into the features urged her to soften.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “Stay low and keep quiet.”

She didn’t have to ask for directions. Though they could follow the dirty footprints the noises ahead betrayed the positions of their targets. Price’s constant groans were an added boon. Hayden brushed under a metal arm full of leggings and squeezed around a bald dummy wearing a Nike running outfit into an area reserved for gym equipment. Barbell stands, weight trays, trampolines and treadmills lined up in uniform rows. Just passing into another section were the terrorist group.

One man saw her, raised a warning, and opened fire. Hayden ran hard and at an angle, hearing a bullet zing off the metal arm of a rower only inches to her left. Kinimaka jumped aside, landing heavily on the conveyor section of a treadmill and rolling through the gap. Hayden returned the legionnaire’s compliment, perforating a shelf of trainers above his head.

The man inched back as his colleagues spread out. Hayden threw a pink sports bag into the air to test their numbers, making a face when four separate shots took it down hard.

“Could be covering Ramses’ escape,” Kinimaka breathed.

“If ever we needed Torsten Dahl,” Hayden exhaled.

“You want me to try crazy mode?”

Hayden was unable to suppress a laugh. “I think it’s more of a lifestyle choice than a change of gear,” she said.

“Whatever it is,” Kinimaka said. “Let’s be quick.”

Hayden beat him to it, charging out of hiding and firing rapidly. One of the figures grunted and fell sideways, the others ducked down. Hayden stormed them, keeping obstacles in their way, but closing the gap as fast as she could. The legionnaires backed off, shooting high, and disappeared around the ceiling-height rack that sold every make and color of trainers available. Hayden and Kinimaka crouched down around the other side, pausing for a second.

“Ready?” Hayden breathed, relieving the fallen cell member of his weapon.

“Go,” Kinimaka said.

As they rose, automatic machine gun fire minced the trainer rack a fraction over their heads. Bits of metal and cardboard, canvas and plastic showered them. Hayden scrambled toward the edge even as the entire structure teetered.

“Oh . . .” Kinimaka began.

“Fuck!” Hayden finished and leapt.

The entire top half of the wide rack collapsed, torn apart, and fell toward them. A huge looming wall of shelves, it discarded metal struts, cardboard boxes and heaps of new canvas shoes as it came. Kinimaka held a hand up as if to ward off the edifice and continued to move steadily, but his bulk left him lagging behind the scuttling Hayden. As she rolled clear of the descending mass, her trailing foot clipped by a metal support, Kinimaka buried his head beneath his arms and braced as it fell on top of him.

Hayden finished her roll, gun in hand, and looked back. “Mano!”

But her troubles were only just beginning.

Four legionnaires descended upon her, kicking the gun away and slamming her body with their rifle butts. Hayden covered up and then rolled some more. A rack of basketballs tipped over and sent the orange spheres spilling in all directions. Hayden glanced over her shoulder, saw moving shadows and cast around for her Glock.

A shot rang out. She heard the bullet strike something close to her head.

“Stop right there,” a voice said.

Hayden froze and looked up as the shadows of Ramses’ men descended upon her.

“You are with us now.”

Drake rushed into the ravaged precinct, Alicia at his side. The first movement they saw was from Moore as he whirled at the balcony above and drew a gun on them. Half a moment later his face flooded with relief.

“At last,” he breathed. “I guess you guys got here first.”

“We had a little advanced warning,” Drake said. “Some clown called Gator?”

Moore looked blank and beckoned them up. “I never heard of him. Is he the leader of the fifth cell?”

“We think so, yes. He’s a fucked up wazzock with a gob full’a shite, but he’s in charge of that nuke now.”

Moore stared open mouthed.

Alicia translated. “Gator sounds madder than Julian Marsh after ten gallons of coffee, and I’d have said that was impossible before I heard what he had to say. Now, where’s Hayden and what has happened here?”

Moore laid it all out for them, commenting on the fight between Ramses and Price and then the escape. Drake shook his head at the condition of the station and the inadequate scattering of agents.

“Could he have planned this? All the way from that bloody castle in Peru? Even whilst we were scouting the bazaar?”

Mai looked skeptical. “Sounds a little farfetched even for one of your theories.”

“And it doesn’t matter,” Alicia said. “Does it? I mean, who cares? We should stop gassing and start looking.”

“For once,” Mai said. “I agree with Taz. Perhaps her latest lover has actually pounded some sense into her.” She flicked a nifty glance at Beau.

Drake cringed as Moore looked on, now even more wide-eyed. The Homeland agent stared at the four of them.

“Sounds like some party, guys.”

Drake shrugged it aside. “Where did they go? Hayden and Kinimaka?”

Moore pointed. “51
st
. Followed Ramses, eleven of his followers and that prick, Price, into the smoke. I lost sight of them after only a few minutes.”

Alicia gestured at the bank of screens. “Can you find them?”

“Most of the feeds are down. Screens destroyed. We’d be hard pressed finding Battery Park right now.”

Drake walked up to the broken balcony rail and surveyed the station and the street outside. It was an odd world that lay before him, in conflict with the city he envisaged, rocked back on its heels at least for today. He knew only one way to help these people recover.

Keep them safe.

“Do you have any more news?” Moore was asking. “I guess you’ve been talking to Marsh and this Gator guy.”

“Only what we told you,” Alicia said. “Did you get the deactivation codes checked out?”

Moore pointed at a blinking icon that had just started flashing on one of the surviving screens. “Let’s see.”

Drake now returned as Beau headed over to the water cooler for a drink. Moore read the email aloud, which quickly got to the point and authenticated the deactivation codes.

“So,” Moore perused. “The codes are actually kosher. I have to say that that’s surprising. Do you think Marsh knew he was going to be usurped?”

“Could be any number of reasons,” Drake said. “Security for himself. Brinksmanship. The simple fact is that the man is six bullets short of a full mag. If this Gator didn’t sound so wappy I’d actually feel safer right now.”

“Wappy?”

“Batshit crazy?” Drake tried. “I dunno. Hayden’s better at talking your language than I am.”

“English.” Moore nodded. “Our language is English.”

“If you say so. But this is a good thing, folks. Genuine deactivation codes are a good thing.”

“You do realize we could have reached out for them anyway once the boffins have determined the origin of the nuke?” Beau said, returning and sipping from a plastic cup.

“Umm, yeah, but that hasn’t happened yet. And for all we know they changed the codes, or added a new trigger.”

Beau accepted that with a slight nod.

Drake checked his watch. They had been inside the precinct for almost ten minutes now with no word from Hayden or Dahl. Today, ten minutes was an eternity.

“I’m calling Hayden.” He plucked out his cellphone.

“Don’t bother,” Mai said. “Isn’t that Kinimaka?”

Drake whirled to where she pointed. The unmistakable figure of Mano Kinimaka lumbered steadily along the street, bent over, clearly in pain, but jogging doggedly toward the precinct. Drake swallowed a dozen questions and instead raced straight for the man who could answer them. Once outside, the team caught Mano at the rubble-strewn intersection.

“What happened, mate?”

The Hawaiian’s relief upon meeting them was tempered by some terrible heartache sitting just below the surface. “They have Hayden,” he whispered. “We took three of them down, but didn’t get close to Ramses or Price. And then they ambushed us at the end. Took me out of the game and, when I climbed out from under a ton of rubble, Hayden was gone.”

“How do you know they got her?” Beau asked. “Perhaps she is still giving chase?”

“My arms and legs might’ve been impeded,” Kinimaka said. “But my ears heard just fine. They disarmed her and dragged her away. The last thing they said was . . .” Kinimaka swallowed with a heavy heart, unable to go on.

Drake caught the man’s stare. “We will save her. We always do.”

Kinimaka winced. “Not always.”

“What did they say to her?” Alicia pressed.

Kinimaka looked to the skies as if seeking the inspiration of sunshine. “They said they would give her a close look at that nuke. They said they were gonna strap it to her back.”

Torsten Dahl left several clean-up crews to take care of the area around Times Square and drew his team deep into the shadows offered by a narrow alley. Here, it was quiet and free of life, the perfect place to make an important phone call. He first rang Hayden but when she didn’t answer he tried to contact Drake.

“Dahl here. What’s the latest?”

“We’re in the shit, pal—”

“Balls deep again?” Dahl interrupted. “What’s new?”

“No—neck deep this time. These mad bastards broke, or were broken out, of their cells. Ramses and Price are gone. The fifth cell is—or was—twelve strong. Mano says they got three.”

Dahl picked up on the inflection. “Mano says?”

“Yeah, mate. They got Hayden. They took her with them.”

Dahl closed his eyes.

“But we still have a little time.” Drake tried the positive side. “They wouldn’t have taken her at all if they wanted to detonate immediately.”

The Yorkie was right, Dahl had to admit. He listened as Drake went on to explain that Marsh had now been removed as the Prince of Darkness and replaced temporarily by one called Gator. Homeland had just managed to identify this man as an American sympathizer.

“Really?” Dahl said. “To what?”

“Pretty much to anything than can cause anarchy,” Drake said. “He’s a merc for hire, only this time he went super ballistic.”

“I thought Ramses always kept his business ‘in house’.”

“Gator’s a New York native. He would have been able to provide invaluable logistical knowledge for the op.”

“Yeah, it makes sense.” Dahl sighed and rubbed his eyes tiredly. “So what’s next? Do we have a location on Hayden?”

“They ditched her cell. They must have taken at least some of her clothes because the tracker sewn into her shirt says she’s under a table at the Chipotle Mexican Grill, which we’re just confirming is bullshit. Surveillance cameras are working but the receivers at our end were mostly knocked out by the attack on the precinct. They’re piecing together what they can. And they just don’t have enough manpower. Things could go real bad from here, mate.”

“Could?” Dahl repeated. “I’d say we were already past bad and heading up the street of horrific, wouldn’t you?”

Drake was silent for a moment, then said, “We’re hoping that they continue with the demands,” he said. “Every new requirement give us more time.”

Dahl didn’t have to say they had made no headway so far. The fact was self-evident. Here they were depending on Homeland to discover the nuke’s location, running around like forewarned Christmas turkeys, only so Moore could pinpoint the exact spot, but the whole enterprise had failed.

“All we’ve done is neutralize a few expendable cells,” he said. “We haven’t even come close to Ramses’ real plan, and especially his endgame.”

“Why don’t you guys come down to the precinct? Might as well be together when the next lead comes in.”

“Yeah, we will.” Dahl waved at the rest of his team and figured out the right direction to take them towards 3
rd
Avenue. “Hey, how’s Mano holding up?”

“Guy took a big hit from a wall of shelving. Don’t ask. But he’s raring to go, just waiting for somebody to give him a target.”

Dahl broke into a run as they ended their call. Kenzie pulled up beside him and nodded. “Bad call?”

“Considering our position I suppose it could be worse but, yes, that was a bad call. They abducted Hayden. Took her to where the bomb is.”

“Well, that’s great! I mean don’t all you guys have hidden trackers?”

“We do. And they threw it away along with her clothes.”

“The Mossad imbed under the skin,” Kenzie said softly. “Good for them, but not for me. Made me feel ‘owned’.”

“It would.” Dahl nodded. “We all need to feel that we’re in control of our own fate, and that each decision is essentially free. Not a manipulation.”

“These days,” Kenzie fingers flexed and then bunched into tight fists, “you manipulate me at your peril,” then she gave him a breezy smile. “Except you, my friend, you can manipulate me anytime, and anywhere, you like.”

Dahl looked away. There was no stopping Bridget McKenzie. The woman knew he was a married man, a father, and yet still poured on the temptation. Of course, one way or another she wouldn’t be here much longer.

Problem solved.

Smyth and Lauren also jogged together, passing quiet comments. Yorgi brought up the rear, tired and speckled with debris but loping along with game determination. Dahl knew it had been his first real experience of frantic, unsystematic battle and thought he’d coped well with it. The streets flashed past and then they turned left onto 3
rd
Avenue, heading up toward the intersection with 51
st
.

It was a weird few minutes for Dahl. Some parts of the city were unaffected and although many shops remained open and people walked inside a cloud of trepidation, others were deserted, practically devoid of life. A few streets were cordoned off with SWAT vehicles and four-wheel-drive army vehicles strewn about. Some areas shrank with shame at the presence of looters. For the most part the people he saw seemed unclear as to what to do, so he added his voice to what he imagined would be the authorities’ and suggested they find shelter anywhere they could.

And then they reached the precinct where Drake and the others waited and hoped and planned for the rescue of Hayden Jaye.

Only a few hours had passed since this day began. And now they searched in desperation for a way to find the nuke. Dahl knew there would be no turning back, no running away or hiding in bunkers. The SPEAR team were in this to the end. If the city did perish today it would not be for the lack of heroes trying to save it.