“Comin’ for ya.”
Lauren lay helpless, connected to tubes, with nurses hovering and looking scared out of their wits.
“Does she have a chance, any chance at all, without these damn tubes?”
“Not long,” one of them responded. “But then she doesn’t have long anyway. Take this.” She held out a long syringe filled with a clear mixture.
“What the hell is it?”
“A little something to slow her metabolic rate. Drastically. It should give you a few extra minutes.”
“Why not give it to her now?”
“Because if you do, when she wakes, everything will speed up and she’ll die faster.”
Smyth understood. “I’m all for Hail Mary passes,” he said. Damn, he knew exactly where all this was coming from.
Romero. That ass!
Goddamn Romero had gone and got himself killed whilst running from the Blood King’s men. Smyth had loved that overgrown ass and would gladly have taken the bullet. Now—Lauren had gone down under his watch—not in actual fact but since when did that matter?—and now he would give everything to save her.
Smyth scooped her up, the lifelessness of her body causing his mouth to draw into a thin white line, and pocketed the syringe. “Lie low,” he said. “They’re not here for you. We’ll be luring them away soon.”
Outside, he sprinted after his group.
*
Hayden moved out soundlessly, slowly, not wanting to draw any attention. The first merc to see her died with a shot to the forehead. As the rest turned her team opened fire, sending them cartwheeling and dropping desperately to the ground.
“No time to waste.” Hayden swiveled and raced for the side of the building, the parking lot ahead. To her right, Crouch’s team were already in fast motion and far beyond them Drake’s team.
Choppers lifted off the roof above, their guns rattling, and dozens of mercs surged from the hotel behind Crouch. Hayden dropped to one knee.
“Cover them!” she cried.
Her team knelt beside her.
“Fire!”
Mercs collapsed as they converged on Crouch’s team.
Behind her, Smyth placed Lauren in the center of their defensive guard and faced the other way. “Rear guard,” he barked. “Fire!”
More assailants dropped behind the hotel.
Hayden dropped a raised fist. “Fire!”
CHAPTER FORTY
Drake darted ahead with Dahl a step behind. He saw Hayden’s team drop and cover Crouch’s escape with bursts of gunfire, then watched the choppers lift off the roof. Now beyond the hotel’s property, he skidded to a halt on the gravel drive that led to the front door of a wedding chapel. Further down the wide road he spotted a large TGI Friday’s and, beyond that, the soaring Tower Hotel, wider at the top and bristling with windows that gave as good a view of the city as they gave of the falls themselves.
With no access to comms or a radio—the raid had happened before they could be deployed—he signaled to Crouch that he should continue. Then he shrugged at the others. “Let’s make it tough for those choppers.”
As the birds swooped down, Drake and Dahl with Trent alongside filled the air they flew through with lead. Alicia and Mai deterred the mercs atop the hotel roof from trying any potshots. Crouch’s team ran ahead, spilling out onto the road and then stopping and turning. The chopper veered up and away, then came down in the hotel’s parking lot, finally grudgingly accepting they offered no advantage and disgorging the rest of their men onto the ground.
Drake and the others ran hard toward Crouch. His old boss met them in the middle of the road.
“Keep running!” he cried. “Hayden needs your help. We’ll head toward that restaurant. We need transport fast.”
Drake accepted the orders without question. He sprinted on, arcing around Crouch’s position and swinging toward Hayden’s. She was already in motion, sensing the backup, and urging her comrades onward. Drake stopped at the side of the road and fired at the mercs behind and to the side of Hayden’s position, making the already traumatized mercs lurch away in surprise.
Hayden and her team raced past them. Drake covered their run, then he turned to Dahl. “Our turn. Let’s go.”
The five whirled and ran hard. Ahead, Crouch and Russo, Healey, Silk and Radford stood in the center of the road, picking any mercs off who tried moving forward. Three more times they swept as separate teams in rough semi-circles, each team covering another as they opened up space between themselves and their enemies, following a curve to left and right, kneeling and standing, firing in ranks to keep up a steady hail of bullets.
The lesser force pinned their enemy down.
“Who says there ain’t safety in numbers?” Alicia grinned as they all finally merged with their comrades.
With soldiers guarding their flanks, the sirens wailing ever closer and flashing lights now almost upon them, the company’s leaders came together. Hayden took point as Caitlyn and Karin handed out working comms.
“We need two teams. One to hold these assholes off and stop them destroying any more of the city. The other to hit the facility before they move the friggin’ aerosols again.”
“And the antidote,” Smyth said, still with Lauren over his shoulder. Komodo had already volunteered to take her for a while but Smyth held on as if she were the Holy Grail. Hayden gave him a wan smile.
“Yes. The antidote. It must be at the facility, Smyth. Where else would it be?”
“Those fuckin’ Pythians would keep it all for themselves. Make no mistake.”
“You’re probably right.” Hayden glanced toward Drake. “Soon as we get a locale let’s split into a third team.”
Drake nodded. “Let’s make this quick. Those wankers are regrouping.”
Hayden fielded a call. “All right,” she said when she’d finished. “We have some sort of major activity at one of the warehouses where Dudley was spotted. Could be that this ongoing failure here has sparked something over there.”
“Panic.” Alicia rubbed her hands. “Oh, let’s hope so.”
“Failure?” Dahl breathed toward the now moving choppers. “Not exactly.”
“I have the FBI and the Canadians patched into my comms now,” Hayden said, then glanced at Collins. “One of the station chiefs says hi.”
Collins all but blushed and looked anywhere except at Trent.
Radford leaned in. “Another dance partner?”
Collins shoved him. “Shut your goddamn face.”
Drake set off at a sprint. “Move it!”
Crouch eyed those choppers still sat near the hotel’s parking lot, many of which had lost crew and pilots. “I have an idea,” he said thoughtfully.
Russo and Healey grinned at the same time. “Yes, sir.”
Drake headed for the shadowy first-floor level of the TGI Friday’s multi-story parking lot, seeing several patrons hovering around their cars. Knowing it would be traumatic for them and hating himself for it, but still putting the safety of the greater world first, he waved his gun at the sky.
“Keys,” Alicia said, dashing past and commandeering a vehicle.
Drake leaped onto the back of a midnight-black MV Augusta, opening the throttle even as he landed on the seat. Alicia, already climbing into the car—an old Alfa Romeo—shot him an irate look.
“Bastard.”
Dahl altered his run at the last moment, jumping up behind Drake. “Nice idea, Yorkie.”
“Thanks, Ikea. You’re only on here to piss Alicia off.”
“Of course!”
Drake peeled out of the parking area, threading a line through parked and exiting vehicles, swerving around the side of a black-and-white police cruiser. Alicia, Mai and Trent were in the Alfa, struggling to keep up. The huge yellow TGI’s writing set against a long, curving wall and red-and-white livery flashed by to their left as they hit Fallsview Boulevard at speed.
Hayden stayed in their ears. “We’re a minute behind you. See the Tower Hotel t
o your left, white fascia?”
“Aye, and the Marriott,” Drake drawled.
“Forget it. Head back down Dunn Street and then left on to Ailanthus. Then it’s the 49 to Stanley. Got it?”
“Yup.”
Drake gunned the Augusta, feeling Dahl wrenched back in surprise behind him. The Swede’s scrabbling hands tugged at the front of his jacket for a moment.
“Careful, Dahl,” Drake breathed. “If I were Alicia you’d be dead by now.”
Alicia’s voice came over the comms. “He just grab your tits?”
Drake chuckled. “Yeah.”
“He’s right, Torsty. I don’t stand for that groping crap.”
Dahl took hold of his seat and exhaled with gusto. “Just drive.”
Drake took the hint, unleashing the Augusta’s power as they leaned into the corner that led to Ailanthus.
Hayden’s voice came over the comms. “A truck is preparing to leave the facility. Hurry!”
*
Crouch ran for the nearest chopper, sprinting across Dunn Street in full view now that their enemies had regrouped a little further away, preparing to utilize the helicopters nearer the hotel and still on the roof. At first they ran unseen, cutting the gap in half, but then the call went up.
“Damn!”
Crouch herded Caitlyn behind him and ordered Russo and Healey out front. When he looked around he also noted the presence of Silk, Radford and Yorgi.
Two birds then, he thought. Bloody hell we’re going to cause mayhem.
Was there an easier way to guard Hayden’s and Drake’s back and complete this takedown?
Right then the question was rendered moot as four mercenary helicopters took off from the grounds of the Maple Lake Hotel, their innards bristling with paid, corrupt men toting machine guns, rocket-propelled grenades and much more.
“Let’s take this battle to the skies,” Crouch shouted as he reached the first unmanned chopper and waved Russo into the second.
The mercenaries swooped into attack formation.
*
Drake followed Hayden’s instructions, leaving the tourist areas of Niagara Falls behind and proceeding into an open-plan industrial area. Drake marveled at the wide roads, huge intersections and appealing tree-lined avenues.
“If this were back ‘ome,” he grumbled. “There’d be a multiplex, a supermarket, three bathroom outlets and a bowling alley on one road, two gyms, a police station and a nightclub on another, one bus route and some knobhead counsellor who doesn’t drive sitting in an office, looking at ways to make it even harder for cars to get around.”
Dahl pointed ahead. “There!” he shouted. “Coming toward us. That’s the truck!”
Drake gunned the bike, swerving around the front of the white van and laying the bike into a short arc as he passed around the back. For one moment his eyes met those of the men in the front.
“Ain’t gonna be no mercy shown here, guys.”
Three hundred yards from the secret facility, Drake chased the escaping van along the wide road, using the Augusta’s speed and dexterity to bring him close to its rear. Dahl unstrapped his gun from around his shoulders.
“Force it off the road?”
“Oh, yeah. And Hayden, Alicia, when you guys do finally get here, head straight to the facility.”
“Copy that,” Hayden’s reply was as expected.
“Don’t be a twat, Drake.” As was Alicia’s.
Dahl aimed at one of the truck’s rear tires. The rattling noise of the truck’s rear tailgate interrupted him.
“Bollocks!”
Drake turned sharply, leaning the bike over. Four men stood inside the back of the van, pointing weapons at them. They fired immediately, the bullets passing over Drake’s head as he tilted the bike over, only one sparking off and denting the fairing.
Dahl sputtered, hanging on for dear life.
Drake steadied the Augusta as an enormous truck loaded with wrapped plastic tubing appeared ahead, lumbering along at low speed. The furniture-van sized truck they were following didn’t hesitate, just pulled out and overtook, causing oncoming traffic to veer across the sidewalks and the road verges. Drake blipped the throttle and closed the gap once more.
“Shoot those bastards, Dahl.”
“Get closer!”
Dahl peppered the rear of the truck with a hail of bullets, sending their enemies scuttling.
“You sure? They—”
“Closer! Now!” And the mad Swede lived up to his name as he began to climb. Drake shrugged off utter disbelief, realizing he shouldn’t be shocked where Dahl was concerned. The Swede maneuvered his body so that he crouched in his seat before quickly firing again. Then, with his enemy distracted, he urged Drake right up to the tailgate of the truck and climbed onto his shoulders, using the Yorkshireman’s head to balance. The Augusta raced hard in pursuit of their enemies, trees and buildings whipping by. Dahl kept his balance easily for a moment before leaping off Drake’s shoulders, rolling through mid-air, and landing inside the truck, allowing his body another two rotations before planting his feet and looking up.
Eight pairs of eyes stared back in utter shock.
Dahl sprayed them with lead, tackling the nearest with one arm, smashing an elbow to his throat and then hurling him from the truck. The Swede took a bullet to the chest and staggered. Drake took out a pistol and joined in the battle. Dahl came up hard, head first, sending a second merc tumbling into space. A third was down, incapacitated by bullet wounds, the fourth injured. Even so he came hard at Dahl. The Swede slipped aside with more grace than a man of his size ought to possess, caught the merc’s head under an arm and flipped the man onto his back. Drake knew when he was superfluous, opened the bike rapidly, employing its swift acceleration, and surged right up to the front cab. Without warning he shot out the windscreen and then took out the passengers. In another moment the truck was shuddering and freewheeling to a halt.
Drake spun the Augusta hard, laying rubber onto the asphalt, billowing smoke from the spinning tires. Dahl jumped down from the back of the truck and waited for him.
“Nothing in back,” the Swede said calmly through the comms. “Possibly a diversion.”
Drake saw police cars converging. “Relay a message to the cops, Hayden. Tell them to check the men in the cab. We’re about to hit the facility.”
Hayden’s affirmation came back instantly. “And we’re right with you.”
Two cars shot by. Drake picked up Dahl. The second facility was one minute away.
*
Crouch employed great skill in making his helicopter take flight. It had been many years—so many he didn’t like to calculate—since he’d taken a bird into the air and especially under such pressure. Not that his passengers, Caitlyn, Healey and Yorgi noticed, they were too busy gearing up and certainly didn’t need to be made aware of their extra peril. With the cyclic stick and collective gripped hard, his feet operated the foot pedals and worked each component simultaneously. He opened the throttle, increasing the speed of the tail rotor, realizing just how rusty he was as the chopper juddered a little. He pulled on the collective and pressed the left foot pedal, painfully aware of the mercs’ own choppers now within shooting range. Luckily, to his right Russo was already in the air.
Shoulda kept up my fieldwork instead of sitting in cafes drinking Frappuccinos all day.
At last he felt the cyclic become sensitive and nudged the chopper forward. Healey had stationed himself at the right door, Yorgi the left. Crouch felt his heart lurch as he saw them.
“Strap yourselves in, for God’s sake. This ain’t no scenic flight.”
Russo banked to the right, drawing two enemy helos. Leaning out of his nearest door was Adam Silk, already drawing a bead on their assailants. Crouch pitched in the opposite direction, turning underneath the other two. Over the top of the hotel he gained altitude, bringing his bird around in a wide arc.
Healey opened fire, aiming broadside and sliding forward at the same time,
adjusting his aim.
Below, Crouch saw a midnight-black bike racing around a corner followed by a speeding Alfa Romeo. That could only be Drake and his pals, heading for the secret facility at breakneck speed, desperate to find the antidote. His mind flicked momentarily to Smyth—the tough, snappish solider laid low by a fellow team member’s struggle against death. Before he could think again he saw an enemy helicopter swerve after them. Instantly, he blocked its path, inclining the helo and turning so Healey grabbed its attention.
Bullet holes stitched across its side.
Crouch used a deft touch to lift them higher into the sky, thankful that the old skills were returning. The second merc chopper blasted straight at them. Behind it he saw Russo taking on two more, swerving and pitching out of the skies as Silk and Radford loosed automatic firepower from its open doors. Bullets trailed through the air. Crouch flinched as he felt impact, a line of lead travelling across his own hull, and sent the chopper into a dive. Healey moved superbly with the maneuver, twisting so he could stay focused on their attacker. His own fusillade smashed a side window and sent their attacker tilting away, sideways through the skies.
“Go!” Caitlyn cried at his side. “They drove down Ailanthus. Let’s lead the mercs in another direction.”
Crouch allowed Healey and Yorgi to loose another barrage before lining the chopper’s nose up with the Tower Hotel and darting forward. Caitlyn’s advice was justified as both enemy ‘copters swung around in pursuit. Russo, listening closely to the comms, performed a similar maneuver. Dunn Street fell behind and a clear blue sky momentarily opened up ahead. The chase was on.
Six civilian choppers loaded with mercenaries and soldiers, guns and grenades, flew over the tops of some of the most famous hotels in Niagara Falls—the Fallsview Marriott, the Oakes and the Hilton—before banking right, each blasted by bullets and veering from side to side in evasive maneuvers, to come up against a sight that shocked even them.
“Jesus Christ!” Crouch exclaimed. “We’re heading straight into the falls!”
Matt Drake Book 9 - The Plagues of Pandora Page 23
