by Will Jordan
Removing the spent magazine, she reached for a new one and deftly inserted it into the gun’s housing. At the same time, her earpiece was buzzing with a new transmission from Hawkins. ‘Team Two, sitrep.’
‘We’ve got them in sight,’ Riley reported, speaking quietly as she scanned the shadowy banks of desks. ‘They’ll be dead soon.’
‘Negative. Keep them pinned down and wait for support.’
She understood what he had in mind, using Riley and her team to hold Drake up while Hawkins and the others hit them from behind. Caught between the hammer and the anvil, they’d have nothing to do except die.
But there was an edge of something in his voice now. Was it tension, or impatience?
‘No time,’ she decided. ‘We have to finish them now.’
She could do it, she knew; the elation and energy of the moment radiated from the very core of her being. She didn’t need Hawkins, or anyone else. She would be the one to take down Drake and Anya – their last remaining enemies. And then, finally, they would be free.
Hawkins started to respond, but she reached up and switched off her comms unit. Out of contact now, she glanced at the two operatives flanking her.
‘Move up. Flush them out.’
Both men nodded, then began to advance.
‘This is it, Drake!’ she called as she racked back the weapon’s charging handle. ‘Don’t make it too easy on us. I want this one to be worth it.’
Pressing himself against the floor, Drake crawled to the end of the bank of desks and eased his head out just long enough to take in the scene. Two operatives advancing towards him, both armed with submachine guns, both equipped with night vision scopes. Men who could see through the darkness as if it was bright as day. Riley meanwhile held back, waiting for him to break cover.
Three against one. Bad odds.
That was when he caught sight of something mounted on the wall nearby. A large red cylinder, gleaming dully in the hazy orange glow of streetlights. A fire extinguisher.
‘Get ready,’ he whispered to Anya and McKnight.
Taking a breath, Drake leaned out, took aim and opened fire. The first round struck the cylinder a glancing blow, ricocheting off without penetrating. However, the second landed true, punching straight through the steel casing. An instant later, the high pressure extinguisher ruptured explosively, ejecting a cloud of white carbon dioxide that enveloped the far end of the office.
‘Go!’ Drake shouted, leaping up.
Anya and McKnight scrambled to their feet. Unable to make it to the fire escape, they instead rushed at the windows facing out onto the street below. Raising the assault rifle, Anya emptied the remainder of her ammunition into the window, which shattered and collapsed under the onslaught.
She could feel rounds zipping past her as their enemies, sensing their intent, fired blindly into the gaseous haze. There was no way to anticipate or avoid them. All she could do was run and hope luck was on her side.
Closing her eyes, she gathered herself up and leapt through the gap, plunging onto the street about fifteen feet below. Buildings and roads flashed past her before the concrete sidewalk rose up and hit her hard, knocking the breath out of her lungs. Broken glass sliced through clothes and skin, and she felt the familiar hot flash of pain jolting through her already injured body.
McKnight landed beside her a second later, curling into a ball to lessen the impact and rolling to a stop a few feet away. She was wet, bedraggled and bleeding from several lacerations, but she was alive.
‘Get up, Samantha. Move!’ Anya hissed, pulling her up and moving in close to the base of the building, out of sight of the windows above.
They were injured, but they were clear.
‘Hurry, Ryan,’ she whispered.
* * *
Staying low, Drake rushed forward, ignoring the panicked gunfire that sliced through the air just above his head. The laser sights that had helped his opponents aim and fire were now working against them, the beams plainly visible in the swirling CO2 haze.
Taking aim at the nearest one, Drake squeezed off a trio of shots, hearing the distinctive wet crunch as one blew through a human skull. But the muzzle flash of his weapon had given away his position. He rolled into cover to avoid the answering volley that blasted apart the nearest desk.
Riley immediately understood what he was doing, and how to stop him. Turning towards the emergency fire suppression alarm mounted on the wall beside her, she slammed the butt of her weapon against the protective glass panel, reached in and yanked on the lever. Straight away, red lights blazed on and the overhead sprinklers sputtered into action, unleashing a downpour on the office below.
As the gas began to clear under this watery onslaught, Drake knew he had only seconds to act. Leaping out from behind cover, he launched himself at the second operative and smacked the P90 aside before he could bring it to bear. With his enemy temporarily exposed, Drake jammed the barrel of his gun into the man’s armpit, twisting it around the fabric of his Kevlar vest and pulled the trigger. The gunshot was muffled by fabric and flesh pressed against the barrel, but the thumping recoil told him the weapon had discharged.
The man jerked convulsively, tried to let out a cry of shock and pain, only to cough up a mouthful of blood. A second shot was enough to deal a fatal blow. It was the last of Drake’s ammunition. The weapon was dry.
Holding the man upright, Drake swung this human shield towards Riley just as she opened up, spraying the dead man with automatic fire. Drake could feel the sickening thumps as rounds slammed into his makeshift shield, the Kevlar vest absorbing most of them.
The instant the firing stopped, Drake released his hold, allowing the dead man to flop to the ground, then charged at his remaining enemy. With his gun empty, he drew back his arm and hurled the useless weapon at her, forcing her to throw up the P90 to deflect it. Both guns rang out as the automatic clashed against the P90’s polymer coating.
It was a desperate gesture, but it had bought him the time he needed to close the range. Realising she had no time to reload, Riley dropped the cumbersome gun and reached for the knife at her waist, slashing wildly just as he leapt at her. Instinctively Drake tried to twist aside mid-leap, raising his arm to defend himself.
Hot pain flashed up his forearm as the blade bit into his flesh. Caught off balance by his attempt to evade the deadly blade, he slammed into the wall, his shoulder taking the brunt of the impact.
Riley was on him in an instant, trying to seize the momentum and finish him. The blade swept down against him, gleaming in the crimson light, only to tear a ragged gash across the drywall as Drake ducked aside.
* * *
Outside, Anya and McKnight were retreating down the street away from the towering church building. Already they could hear police sirens closing in, mingling with the blare of fire alarms inside the church. In a minute or two, the whole area would be locked down.
‘We can’t leave him behind,’ McKnight said.
‘He made his choice,’ Anya replied, fishing out her cell phone and dialling.
‘Anya, what the—’ Alex began as soon as he’d picked up.
‘Don’t talk, just listen,’ she cut in. ‘I need your help right now.’
* * *
The two adversaries circled each other warily, each looking for an opening as water poured down around them and fire alarms blared.
Riley, however, held the upper hand. She was armed, she was fast, and she knew how to take full advantage of both. Drake was tiring, and already injured. She smiled as she shifted her grip on the blade, feinting and gauging his reactions, muscles tensing as she prepared to strike.
Guns had their place, but there was nothing quite so primal, so visceral, so exciting as a knife. Seeing the agony flare in your enemy’s eyes as the blade slid into their flesh.
‘I’ve been waiting for this, Drake,’ she said, her eager eyes shining like coals in the red light. ‘Just you and me now.’
She came in fast, slashing an
d thrusting, forcing him backward, keeping him on the defensive. The only good piece of advice Drake had ever had about getting into a knife fight was simple and blunt – bring a gun.
That wasn’t an option now. Riley was a vicious fighter, fast and nimble, moving with the easy grace of a gymnast. Sooner or later the blade would find its mark.
He had to disarm her. As she came in again, thrusting the blade at his throat, he shifted his weight suddenly, sidestepping so that the knife sailed past him. Catching her arm, he yanked it down hard, dropping to one knee and exerting all his strength to heave her over his shoulder. Turning over in the air, the young woman crashed onto the desk in front of him, scattering files and other office equipment across the floor.
That was his chance. She was exposed and vulnerable, but she wouldn’t be for long. Leaping to his feet, he came in with an elbow strike, but the agile operative saw it coming and rolled aside. Pain jolted up his arm as his elbow slammed against the desk. Before he could recover, Riley’s knee swept around and caught Drake squarely on the side of his head.
Pain and white light exploded inside his skull. As Drake staggered sideways, injured and disoriented, Riley leapt down from the desk, her boots splashing in the pooling water.
‘The great Ryan Drake,’ she said contemptuously, breathing hard with a mixture of exertion and excitement. ‘Fucking pathetic. I’m doing the world a favour by ending you.’
Sensing victory, she crept towards her stricken adversary like a predator stalking its prey. He was no threat to her now.
This was it. This was the moment she’d been waiting for.
‘It’s a shame you won’t get to see your friends when we kill them,’ Riley said, reversing her grip on the knife. ‘You’ll just have to imagine it.’
Drawing back her arm, she leapt at him.
But Drake wasn’t as injured or helpless as he’d appeared. As she swung for an over-handed strike, he threw up his hands, managing to catch her wrist just as the knife was coming down against him. He saw a brief flash of surprise at his sudden reaction, but her expression quickly changed as a new idea took hold.
Drake knew exactly what she was going to do. He was counting on it.
Releasing her grip on the knife, she allowed the weapon to fall from her grasp as if she’d discarded it. But even as it was falling, her other hand leapt out to catch it and plunge it upward into his stomach.
But her chance never came.
In a flash, Drake caught the blade before it made it into her grip. Riley’s eyes opened wide, shock and sudden fear showing for the first time as steel flashed in the glowing red lights. She let out a gasp of pain and disbelief as the knife sank into her chest.
For a second or so they remained like that, frozen in time, water falling in slow motion around them. In a final act of defiance, Riley grasped at his neck, trying to pull him close with her fading strength, her eyes locked with his.
There was neither remorse nor compassion in her opponent’s gaze.
As Drake yanked the knife free, her legs gave way and she went down, slumping against the side of a desk. She was still staring up at him, her eyes glazed, blood seeping from the corner of her mouth as she tried to speak, unable to comprehend how she’d lost.
Drake didn’t spare her a glance as he snatched up his fallen weapon, ejected the spent magazine and calmly slapped a fresh one into place. She was no threat to him now. With his way now clear, he turned away and vanished, leaving the young woman to die alone.
Chapter 61
In the disused car garage, tensions were rising rapidly as the seconds ticked by with no contact from the rest of their team.
‘Scan the police frequencies,’ Mitchell said. ‘See if there’s been a report of gunfire.’
‘On it.’
Basic police scanners could be bought even from civilian electronics stores. Frost’s set-up, however, was considerably more sophisticated, allowing her to crack many of the encrypted frequencies that were out of reach for the average citizen. If there had been an incident of some kind, she would be able to find out in a matter of seconds.
‘What the fuck?’ she said, her expression darkening as she tilted her head, listening carefully.
‘What is it?’ Jessica implored her. ‘Is he dead?’
‘No, the airwaves are,’ the young woman replied. ‘No transmissions, no comms, nothing.’ She spun around to face the others, her face falling. The conclusion was as obvious as it was chilling. ‘We’re being jammed.’
‘But how could they be jamming us if they don’t know…’ Jessica trailed off momentarily as the implications sank in, ‘…where we are?’
Frost’s computer pinged and a message appeared on screen. A message just like the ones she’d used to communicate with Alex. Twisting around, she scanned the text on screen, her heart surging with fear.
YOU’RE COMPROMISED. GET OUT NOW!
* * *
Shoving the silenced automatic inside his soaking jacket to hide it from view, Drake hurried north along the main road, trying to put as much distance as possible between himself and the church. Already he could hear police sirens as local law enforcement rushed to the scene.
Other people nearby were reacting too, many spilling out of a nearby bus station to see what was happening. More than a few smartphones were being pointed towards the church. Drake lowered his head, trying not to be seen.
It was a wasted effort. Not only was he the only person moving away from what was clearly a major incident, but he was soaked to the skin, bruised and bleeding from numerous injuries. He could feel warm blood dripping down his forearm, soaking into his jacket.
‘Oh shit, man. What happened to you?’ asked a young black man, probably a college student judging by the looks of him.
‘What’s with this guy?’ he heard another man ask. ‘Hey, you! You involved in this? What you hiding, man?’
Drake knew this was going downhill fast. For obvious reasons, Americans were particularly sensitive about possible terrorist attacks, and they knew something had happened tonight.
Seeking to put distance between himself and the increasingly hostile crowd, he turned right to cross the road, hoping to find a quieter side street to disappear into. He needed to stop and sort himself out, find a way to warn his friends and rendezvous with Anya and McKnight, but not while he was exposed.
The shouts were growing more numerous as the mood turned against him. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw a couple of the younger, bigger men pursuing him. He couldn’t allow them to swarm him. Reaching into his jacket, he closed his hand around the weapon.
The screeching of brakes drew his attention back to the road, and he watched as an old-model Chevy sedan skidded to a halt barely ten yards away, headlights blinding him.
Drake drew his gun without hesitation and turned it on the driver, assuming the car was an unmarked police unit or even an Agency service vehicle.
‘Stop fucking around and get in, Ryan,’ a gruff voice demanded impatiently.
Drake’s eyes opened wide. ‘Dietrich?’
‘Who else? Now move!’
Hesitating no longer, Drake leapt in and slammed the door shut. Barely was he in his seat before Dietrich stepped on the gas, swinging the car into a U-turn before accelerating away. Leaving the growing mob behind.
‘How did you find me?’ Drake asked, pulling up his jacket sleeve to expose the deep, snaking gash across his forearm.
‘Police scanner,’ Dietrich explained. ‘You’ve caused quite the shitstorm, Ryan. What happened back there?’
‘Cain’s dead. The Circle’s gone.’
For once, Dietrich’s stoic, dispassionate mask slipped. ‘You mean it’s over? Finished?’
‘No. They’re going after Jessica and the others. We have to warn them.’
‘They’re off comms,’ the German explained. ‘Haven’t been able to raise them.’
‘Fuck,’ Drake said under his breath. ‘Then we have to get there ourselves!’
; * * *
The sprinklers were sputtering out when Hawkins and the assault team swept into the devastated office, two operatives moving over to the shattered window to cover the street below while the others fanned out to secure the room.
In a matter of seconds, Hawkins had taken in the two dead team members lying sprawled on the ground, their blood staining the pooling water. Then at last his gaze settled on the young woman slumped against a desk at the edge of the room. Her head was down, her blonde hair hanging in limp tangles around her face.
‘Window clear!’ one of the team called out.
‘Exit clear!’
Hawkins ignored them as he walked slowly towards the fallen woman and knelt down in front of her. Laying down his weapon, he reached out and cupped her chin, raising her head up to face him. Eyes that had once sparkled with eager excitement and absolute devotion now stared lifelessly back at him.
Hawkins tilted his head, as if puzzled by what he was seeing, as if it hadn’t quite registered. She was gone. Brushing the damp hair back from her face, he gently closed the unseeing eyes.
‘Goddamn you, Riley,’ he whispered. ‘I told you to wait for me.’
‘Sir!’ one of his team was calling to him. ‘Sir, we have to go!’
Hawkins bowed his head in silent grief, ignoring the increasingly urgent warnings from his subordinate.
‘Sir, the police are on their way! If they find us here—’
Drawing his sidearm, Hawkins turned the gun on his teammate, took aim right between the eyes and pulled the trigger.
The others froze in shock and disbelief, staring at the man who now lay twitching on the ground, his blood and brains staining the floor around him.
‘Anyone else?’ Hawkins asked, rising slowly to his feet. A powerful, terrifying figure that seemed to grow larger than his mere physical presence. A man whose face was now a mask of barely contained rage.
