And shocked at the differences between his happy family life and what she remembered of her own pretty much ruled by her workaholic legendary father.
She led him back into the main ops room. To her and Kinimaka, the room was familiar—it closely resembled an old CIA layout with ultra-modern upgrades. But the upgrades were now largely hidden within the items of technology rather than upsetting the interior arrangement. Karin sat behind the largest desk, three computer consoles positioned around her within easy reach. Her fingers tapped at the keyboard, her eyes flicking between the computer screen and the big TV display that took up half a wall and was the main focus of the room.
Komodo stood behind her, watching her every move, a hand placed protectively on the back of her seat. The ex-Delta man had been excited to see Romero and Smyth joining the team, but made it clear he would only socialize with them once a week during downtime, preferring to spend the bulk of his free days with Karin.
The ribbing he had endured only strengthened his resolve. Yes, he enjoyed cooking for her. No, he wasn’t about to sizzle Romero and Smyth up some smokehouse wings.
Hayden surveyed the big screen. “You’re playing Galaga? Seriously, is nothing happening in the world?”
Karin motioned toward her other screens, in between shooting the enemy spacecraft. “Got everything set up. Nada on the agency feeds, the news links, the Web troll bots. Hey, it’s only been four days. Don’t worry, some highborn, arrogant ass will decide he wants to rule the world in the next day or two. Besides—” she nodded at the wall clock, “— shift’s over. T-vor’s going to show me his expertise around the kitchen.”
Hayden had to admit she was right, and the prospect of spending a relaxed night with Mano did sound appealing. “Alright. We’re heading out.” She snaked an arm around her boyfriend’s large, muscle-bound waist and pulled him toward the single lift that led down to the underground parking garage.
“Night,” Karin called.
Hayden leaned in. “What’s new at the movies?”
“There’s this new film playing at Casa Kinimaka. It’s called, Here’s to us.”
Hayden hugged him harder. “Raise a glass . . . ‘cause the last few weeks have kicked our ass?” she paraphrased. “I know the song.” She reached out to press the lift’s call button, surprised to see it was already lit.
“Must be Romero and Smyth on their way back up. Those boys would—”
The lift dinged and the doors slid open with a whoosh. The small space beyond was jam-packed with men, all wearing black bodysuits, adaptive goggles and carrying Heckler and Kochs. The leader, face as white as a sheet, shouted an order as he saw Hayden and Kinimaka, then the whole world went straight to hell.
Hayden sprang to the side, hitting the wall hard. Kinimaka rolled with her, keeping his immense body between her and the attacking force. Men poured out of the lift. Komodo appeared in the doorway behind, fantastically quick, gun in hand, and sized up the situation in less time than it takes to kill a man with a bullet. He fired at the crowd, sending men sprawling and scrambling for cover. Kinimaka started to drag Hayden back toward Komodo, but already half a dozen gun barrels were drawing a bead on them. They had no time.
The plaster wall beside them exploded outward. Two huge figures stepped into the corridor, Romero and Smyth, already firing. Only the leader stayed upright, maybe sensing that ducking for cover in this situation would get him nowhere and increase his risk. He reached in and calmly sent the lift back down to the parking garage.
Shit, Hayden thought. Did they have more men down there?
Romero grunted as a bullet struck his Kevlar vest. Two of the attackers fell back, painting the corridor walls with their blood. Two more folded over, also hit hard in their bulletproof armor. Kinimaka scrambled back as best he could, pushing Hayden behind him. She was the first to reach Komodo, and he knew her well enough to forget the rescue and hand her a gun.
“How the hell did they get in here?”
But Hayden knew, rather than be worrying about that just yet, Karin would be calling for back up. It should already be on its way—unless something bigger was going on in Washington tonight.
Why that thought crossed her mind, Hayden never knew. It probably had something to do with a sense of foreboding that crept down her spine on spidery feet, but more likely the result of the leader of the group removing his goggles and giving them a big grin.
“The Blood King sends his regards,” he said, and fired at the same time as his men.
Hayden forced the terrifying sight of that crazy white albino face from her mind and tried to scurry away. Bullets whizzed above her head and around Kinimaka’s frame. Romero and Smyth, clad in body armor, leaped in front, taking multiple hits, their bodies jerking like marionettes.
“No!” Was that my own screaming voice? she thought.
Showers of plaster blasted from the walls and cascaded all around. A bullet parted Kinimaka’s hair, so close to killing him that Hayden saw the lock of hair that flew from his skull. It was only a matter of time.
She leaned around him even as he forced her further back, firing over Romero and Smyth, seeing at least two of the attackers convulse. The albino’s hard, battle-worn face stared back at her so fiercely she had to look away. She forced Mano to the side and fired until her clip was empty.
Smyth scrambled on his elbows and back toward her, firing hard, groaning as Romero clambered across his legs. Komodo must have caught a weapon thrown by Karin for he suddenly reappeared, rifle in hand, and began to give their assailants some solid return fire.
Because of his position, Hayden pushed Kinimaka into the ops room first. Her brief view showed Karin on her knees, sliding a second rifle across the floor to the big man.
Fucking A. They had a chance here, a chance made out of nothing by a competent and clever team with crazy skills. Kinimaka spun and added his fire to Komodo’s. Hayden slid through the doorway, Smyth and Romero staggering after her.
“What the fuck!” Smyth yelled.
“I thought you two had left.” Hayden stooped to pick up another rifle.
“Nah. We hit the showers. But I gotta ask, what’s the point of communal showers if there’re no chicks around? Available chicks,” he added.
“Shut it.” Romero slammed Smyth’s shoulder hard, wincing with pain. “Took one in the forearm. Listening to your caterwauling don’t help it much.”
“Shit, are you okay?” Smyth’s tone changed instantly as he bent to examine his team mate’s arm. “You’re bleeding. Fuck!”
“Calm down. It just a bullshit flesh wound.”
“Oh. Ya fuckin’ pussy.”
Komodo was last through the door. Karin rose as he crossed the threshold, relief apparent in her face. The trouble with this team, Hayden thought. Is that we all love each other too fucking much.
“Retreat,” she breathed unnecessarily. They all knew what to do.
Komodo led the way, with Karin, Hayden, and then Kinimaka coming up behind him. Romero and Smyth brought up the rear. Before they had moved three steps, Hayden heard the lift ding again and the soft whispering of orders. Their attackers had just been reinforced.
“Someone planned this,” she said as she walked. “Down to the last detail. But Kovalenko’s still in prison . . .” she paused as something occurred to her. They all knew it was his prison that had suffered the riot much earlier that day, and no one in law enforcement had so far managed to get near the place. Could some inmates have escaped in the chaos? It didn’t seem likely, but then this was Kovalenko they were dealing with; a man who for many years had convinced the world he was a mere myth.
In that case, everyone needed warning.
She ran harder. Where’s Gates? she wondered. And fuck, even more important than that, where’s the man who signed the order to incarcerate Kovalenko—the President?
CHAPTER SEVEN
Through the ops room they dashed, Karin pulling down a large lever by the side of a junction box, an act that wouldn
’t prevent a determined enemy from stealing their hard drives but would at least shut them all down. Komodo dragged her along almost before she could finish, darting through the open door and into the conference room. Behind them the sounds of pursuit intensified.
Romero spun in the doorway, pulling Smyth down with him. “Keep going,” he muttered. “We’ll buy a few extra minutes.”
Hayden sped on, glancing back as she passed them. The leader of the attackers ran into view. Romero opened fire instantly, but the man twisted acrobatically and dived headlong out of sight. Romero’s subsequent bullets took down the second man.
Return fire rattled from within the ops room, straight through the open door of the conference room, and slammed into the far wall. The large oblong front of the table was churned to splinters. Smyth extended his arm and fired blindly around the corner, then looked shocked when his rifle was shot out of his hand.
Romero swore at him, “Dickhead.”
“Always works in the movies.” Smyth made no effort to scramble after the lost weapon. No doubt it had been damaged by the offending bullet and besides, it was far too exposed. Instead, he reached around his back and came out with a handgun. “Ready?”
Romero checked on the progress of his new team mates. The conference room was empty. Hopefully by now they would be approaching the escape route door.
“Ready.”
Romero jammed his trigger finger down hard, splashing bullets in a wide arc. Smyth broke cover and ran across the room. A second later, Smyth laid down covering fire as Romero sprinted toward him. It was a classic shielding move, executed by professionals. Smyth turned into the corridor that led toward the shower rooms and the concealed escape door. There would be no time for any finesse here, no time to hide their exit route; it was simple, run for your life.
Smyth ran. Bullets pounded the walls, the table and even the windows behind them. The sound of hard pursuit spurred them on. Smyth saw the dogleg at the end of the corridor just as Hayden peeked around the corner.
“Hurry!”
Smyth didn’t need to be told twice. Freedom was twelve steps away. A quick glance to the left assured him that Romero kept pace. They were almost at the corner when Smyth felt something warm splash across his face. At the same time, Romero jerked and tripped headlong, sliding across the polished floor and leaving a red trail behind him.
Smyth stared, distraught. The back of Romero’s head had been blown out. Just like that, one of his best friends and colleagues had been killed. Shock turned to anger and Smyth turned quickly, unleashing bullet after bullet, spraying the attacking force with a deadly hail of lead.
Men collapsed groaning. Others fell to their knees or doubled over. Some remained standing, returning fire with a vengeance, their faces hard and battle-crazed behind their black masks.
Smyth would have died then and there if it weren’t for Hayden and Kinimaka. The two agents had lain in wait; not for one minute had they considered leaving comrades behind. As Smyth fired, screamed and roared, Hayden and Kinimaka emerged behind him, guns spitting hotly, and pulled him to safety. At first Smyth fought them, but as his clip ran dry and true grief set in, he allowed them to lead him away.
“I’m okay,” he said after a second, his soldier’s training kicking in. All feelings would be compartmentalized until later. “I’m good.”
Hayden hardened her resolve. She had seen Romero stagger by; seen the way he fell and the spray of blood; and, though she had only known the man for a few days, her heart had lurched. Romero was a good soldier, a good man. He had helped Drake stampede across Europe and destroy a human trafficking ring. He had had a hell of a future.
But the same thing could be said for them all. This was kill or be killed, and they were in no position to make a stand right now. She stared at the exit door. It hadn’t escaped her notice that a cacophony of sirens wasn’t blasting along the street outside. Something big was happening in DC tonight. Something terrible.
Her heart clutched at a vision of Gates, of Drake and Dahl on the other side of town, and of Mai and Alicia—so far away. Her mission, her goal in life now, was to send them a warning as soon as she could. She sprinted for the doorway. Karin and Komodo were on the other side, holding the big door open. She pushed Smyth ahead of her. Kinimaka ran at the other side, firing blindly.
A bullet clanged off the metal door. Another sent splinters of metal into Komodo’s hair. Smyth squeezed through, then Hayden.
She turned swiftly on hearing a shout.
“You will never escape us.” The words were driven at her by the attackers’ albino leader, loaded with hate and a terrifying certainty. He was grinning, with Mano clear in his sights, and pulled the trigger.
Kinimaka staggered, falling hard, but his lurch was an evasive maneuver. Still, the bullet would have ended him if Komodo hadn’t let the door swing shut at the last moment. The albino’s bullet deflected off the closing door and buried itself in the nearest wall.
“Shit.”
Hayden seconded the Hawaiian’s heartfelt sigh and helped him up. “Keep going,” she said. They could not afford to slow down now. Not until they were safe.
“Weapons check,” Komodo said as he pushed through the group to the front. He waved for them to follow and called, “One rifle, one mag.”
Karin spoke next. “Pistol. Three shots left, I think.”
“Check it,” Smyth urged. “I have Romero’s rifle and half a mag.”
Hayden and Kinimaka spoke up too, feeling sick at the thought of their meager supplies. The tunnel stretched ahead of them, slightly inclined, lit every six feet by electric lights built into the walls above their heads. The floor was smooth concrete, as were the sides and roof. It was rough and hastily built, but it served its purpose well.
The mood was subdued. No one spoke as they trotted down the slope. A boom echoed through the tunnel as their enemies smashed something against the door. After a few more seconds an even louder boom signified an explosion, and then the sound of debris clattering off the walls. Hayden made her feet go faster.
The tunnel bottomed out before rising slightly. Unlike the rest of them, Karin had been this way before and explained that the escape route exited into a tiny room. The room was security barred and keypad locked from the outside, but only required a strong push to exit. Komodo ran hard, and the tunnel soon came up against a door. Without stopping, he leaned into it and sent it crashing back against its hinges.
Hayden brought up the rear. The layout of the tunnel resulted in their assailants being just out of sight, but the sound of their pursuit was loud and getting closer. By now she knew the timbre of the albino’s voice, hating the sound of the hard confidence it exuded. Unlike Boudreau, this mercenary was all about efficiency and cunning—the worst kind to come up against.
She pushed into the small cupboard-like room and pulled the door closed behind her, knowing it would only slow the attackers down for a few extra seconds. The others had already exited into the mall, and the sound of their voices echoed around the enormous space.
It didn’t sound right somehow . . .
Hayden glanced around, stopping in surprise. “The mall is empty?”
“Closed down three or four years ago,” Karin acknowledged. “Everything apart from the food court.”
Hayden took in the light-green shuttered shop fronts, the dimmed lighting, the higher floor windows staring down on this modern crypt as if in judgment, the polished tiled floors and highly reflective surfaces.
“It’s in the middle of Washington,” she said, as if that statement might help switch the lights of commerce back on.
“Ain’t nowhere safe from the bullshit bean counters,” Smyth said, looking at Karin. “Where’s the exit?”
Karin pointed to the right. The team set off at pace, Hayden surrounded by a sense of the surreal as the empty mall echoed to their hollow footsteps. From somewhere above them the sound of cash machines opening and kids’ conversation and laughter drifted like the sound
s of old, distressed ghosts. She felt a huge relief knowing the food court was on the next level.
A muted explosion chased the space behind their fleeing heels. Smyth turned in place, still running, and loosed several bullets in the direction they had come. Kinimaka ducked as return fire whickered overhead.
The leader barked a resonating order, signaling the start of a prolonged bombardment. Bullets flashed through the air and impacted against the shiny walls, cracking the hard surfaces. Hayden and her entire team dived headlong, hitting the floor and sliding with solid momentum. Komodo and Smyth rolled as they slid, coming around with guns already blazing.
The battle raged as Karin, Hayden and Kinimaka scrambled behind a round maroon-colored pillar. Chips of plastic showered through the air around them as their enemies concentrated their fire power. Smyth and Komodo rolled the other way, having to lie lengthways behind the short wall of a semi-circular water fountain. Komodo slithered until he could poke his head around the edge, and fired a few rounds.
Then he turned to Hayden. His eyes said it all. They were dangerously low on ammo.
Keep moving, Smyth was mouthing at her. She knew the military man’s mantra by heart. To stop was to die. She sat with her back to the pillar and surveyed the area. Karin pointed out the exit, dangerously exposed at the end of a long, wide corridor.
“How many of those assholes are left?” she asked Kinimaka.
“Best guess? Eight, maybe a few more or less.”
Karin grasped Hayden’s hand. “What is this? What’s going on?”
Hayden weighed the impact of revealing her fears and decided against it. “Not sure. Yet.” Both Karin and Kinimaka had loved ones out there and to start worrying about them now wouldn’t help anyone.
“We need to break for that exit,” she said. “Before we run out of ammo. What we need is a diversion.”
“What about that?” Kinimaka pointed overhead. Hayden took it in and looked speculatively at him. “Can you take ‘em all down?”
The Hawaiian raised an eyebrow. “How long have you known me?”
The Matt Drake Series Books: 7-9 (The Matt Drake Series Boxset 2) Page 4
