What would Drake do?
This, she knew. Exactly this. He would fight until his very last breath. Through a forest of legs she searched for a weapon. Her eyes locked onto Marsh’s and the woman’s but they only clung on even tighter to one another, taking a kind of comfort in an odd companionship. Hayden kicked and spun, happy with every hard-fought scream, then found the couch at her back. Using it as a fulcrum she pushed herself to her feet.
A fist smashed into her face and stars exploded. Hayden shook her head, flicking the blood away and punched right back, making her opponent fall away. Another fist hit the side of her head and then a man tackled her about the waist, knocking her off her feet and back onto the couch. Hayden threw him over the back, using his own momentum. She was on her feet again in a second, head down, punishing ribs and necks and groins and knees with punch after punch, kick after kick.
She saw Ramses step toward them. “Eight men!” he cried. “Eight men and one little girl. Where is your pride?”
“Same place as their balls,” Hayden panted as she damaged them, feeling the weariness now, the pain of multiple blows, the battle fury subsiding. It wouldn’t last forever, and she had not expected to save herself.
But she never stopped trying. Never gave up. Life was an everyday battle whether it was literal or not. As the power left her punches and the energy quit her limbs, Hayden still struck out, though her blows were no longer sufficient.
The men pulled her to her feet and dragged her across the room. She felt a tiny bit of strength return and scraped her boot down a shin, extricating a squeal. Hands tightened around her muscles, forcing her toward the far window.
Ramses stood over the table that held the suitcase nuke.
“So small,” he said wistfully. “So incongruous. And yet so evocative. Do you agree?”
Hayden spat blood out of her mouth. “I agree that you’re the whack job of the century.”
Ramses gave her a puzzled look. “You do? You do realize that is Julian Marsh and Zoe Sheers of the Pythians cuddling down there, don’t you? And their leader—Webb—where is he? Off scouring the world for an ancient archaeological treasure, I believe. Off following the long-dead trail of a long-dead aristocrat. Off following his own crazy footsteps whilst the world burns. I don’t come close to the whack job of the century, Miss Jaye.”
And though Hayden inwardly admitted he had a point, she remained silent. At the end of the day they should all expect a padded cell.
“So what’s next you wonder?” Ramses asked her, smiling. “Well, not much if I’m honest. We’re all where we want to be. You are with the nuke. I am with Gator, my bomb expert. My men are by my side. The nuke? It is almost ready to—” he paused “—to become one with the world. Shall we say . . . one hour from now?”
Hayden’s eyes betrayed her.
“Oh, ha ha. Now you’re interested. Is that too much time for you? Ten minutes then?”
“No,” Hayden gasped. “You can’t. Please. There must be something you want. Something we can negotiate.”
Ramses stared at her as if, against his own will, he suddenly pitied her. “The sum of all I want is in this room. The annihilation of the so-called First World.”
“How do you bargain with men who only want to kill you or die trying?” Hayden said aloud. “Or stop them without resorting to bloodshed yourselves. The ultimate dilemma for the new world.”
Ramses laughed. “You people are so foolish.” He laughed. “The answer is ‘you don’t’. Kill us or bow to us. Stop us or watch us cross your borders. That is your only dilemma.”
Hayden struggled once more as the men pulled away her new shirt and then positioned the bomb so that it was strapped to her front. It was Gator who came forward and unstrapped the buckle of the backpack and unlooped several wires from inside. These had to be attached to the timer mechanism, Hayden was sure. Even terrorists this crazy wouldn’t risk unlooping the actual explosive devices.
She hoped.
Gator pulled at the wires and then looked to Ramses for permission to continue. The giant nodded. Men took hold of Hayden’s arms and forced her forward over the table, bending her frame until the nuke pushed hard at her midriff. Then they held her in place as Gator wrapped the wires first around her back and chest and then down between her legs and finally up until they met at the bottom of her back. Hayden felt every pull of the wires, every shift of the backpack. Finally they used medium-duty straps and duct tape to ensure the nuke was stuck hard to her body and that she was wrapped around it. Hayden tested the bonds and found she could barely move.
Ramses stood back to admire Gator’s handiwork. “Perfect,” he said. “The American Devil secured in perfect position with the object of her country’s destruction. It is a fitting shrine, just as this sinful city is for the rest of them. Now, Gator, set the timer and add enough time for us to go to the zoo.”
Hayden gasped into the table, at first shocked and then nonplussed by the terrorist’s words. “Please. You can’t do this. You can’t. We know where you are, what you plan to do. We can always find you, Ramses.”
“You mean your friendssss!” Gator squealed in her ear, making her jump and jolt the nuclear bomb. “The Englishhhhmannnn! Do not worry. You will see him again. Marsh did have some funnnn with himmmm, but we will toooo!”
Ramses bent close to her other ear. “I remember you all from the bazaar. I believe you destroyed it, ruining my reputation for at least two years. I know you all assaulted my castle, killing my bodyguard Akatash, killing my legionnaires and leading me away in chains. To America. The land of fools. Mr. Price over there tells me you are all part of a team but more than that. You call yourselves family. Well, isn’t it fitting that you are all together at the very end?”
“Fuck,” Hayden breathed into the top of the backpack. “You. Asshole.”
“Oh, no. it is you and your family who are well and truly fucked. Just remember—Ramses did it. And that even this is not my endgame. My failsafe is even more spectacular. But know that I will be somewhere safe, laughing, whilst America and the rest of its western cronies implodes.”
He leaned over so that his body crushed both hers and the backpacks’ contents. “Now it is time for your last visit to the zoo. I will allow Matt Drake the honor of finding you,” he whispered. “As the bomb detonates.”
Hayden heard the words, the implications in them, but found herself wondering what failsafe could be more spectacular that what he already had planned.
CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR
Hayden slipped and bumped around in the rear of the small truck. The legionnaires had deposited her, still strapped to the bomb, in back, at their feet as they occupied the benches on both sides. The trickiest part of the entire trip was maneuvering her out of the apartment block. The legionnaires wasted no time trying to disguise her; they shoved her where they wanted her to go and walked with guns exposed. Anyone who saw them would be killed. Luckily for them, most people seemed to be heeding warnings and staying home in front of their TVs or laptops. Ramses made sure Hayden saw the truck that pulled up at the curb alongside the dark alley, grinning all the time.
Black with SWAT markings.
Who would stop them? Question them? In time, perhaps. But that was the whole point of everything that had happened so far. The speed and execution of every part of the plan had tested America’s responses beyond the limit. Reactions had been anticipated, and the real kicker was that the terrorists simply didn’t care. Their only agenda was the death of a nation.
They used 57th Street to head east, avoiding patrols and cordons where they could. The snarls were there, the odd abandoned vehicle and groups of onlookers, but Gator himself was a New York native, and knew all the quieter, seemingly fruitless routes. The city’s grid system helped, making it easy for the driver to return to a pre-planned route. They went slowly, carefully, knowing the Americans were still responding, still anticipating, and only a few hours into realizing that the bomb might already be there.
The journey bruised her. The legionnaires kept her steady with their feet. Sudden stops and large potholes made her nauseous. The backpack moved beneath her, its hard innards always unnerving. Hayden knew this was what Ramses wanted—her final moments to be filled with terror as the timer ticked down.
Less than half an hour passed. The roads were quiet, if not empty. Hayden couldn’t tell for sure. In another novel twist to his plan Ramses ordered Gator to tie Marsh and Sheers to the bomb alongside Hayden. These two complained and fought and even began to scream, so Gator duct taped their mouths and noses, sat back until they subsided, and then gave their nostrils chance to draw in a little air. Marsh and Sheers then began to cry almost in unison. Maybe they had harbored dreams of release. Marsh squealed like a new-born and Sheers sniffed like a boy with man-flu. As a punishment for them both—and unfortunately for Hayden too—Ramses ordered them strapped naked to the nuke, which caused all kinds of problems, contortions and even more sniffling. Hayden bore it well, imagining the Lovecraftian horror they might now resemble and wondered how the hell they were going to get through the zoo.
“We’ll finish inside,” Gator regarded the mass critically. “Five minutes tops.”
Hayden noticed the bombmaker spoke perfectly well when dealing with his boss. Maybe anxiety caused the shrill rise in his voice. Maybe excitement. She refocused as the truck pulled to a halt and the driver let the engine idle for a few minutes. Ramses exited the cab and Hayden figured they might be at the entrance to the zoo.
Last chance.
She struggled mightily, tried to rock from side to side and scrape the duct tape away from her mouth. Marsh and Sheers groaned and the legionnaires planted their boots upon her, making it hard to shift, but Hayden fought back. All it needed was an odd crash, an out-of-place rocking motion, and flags would be raised.
One of the legionnaires cursed and jumped over her, crushing her even harder to the nuke and the bed of the vehicle. She groaned into the duct tape. His arms enfolded her body, preventing all movement, and by the time Ramses returned she could not breathe.
With a gentle rev of the engine the truck started forward again. Slowly, it drove and the legionnaire removed himself. Hayden sucked in lungfuls of air, cursing her luck and the faces of all those that surrounded her. Presently, the vehicle halted and the driver turned off the engine. Silence descended as Ramses, now clad in a rudimentary SWAT uniform, stuck his head into the back.
“Target achieved,” he said emotionlessly. “Wait for my signal and get ready to carry them between you.”
Helpless, it was all Hayden could do to breathe as five legionnaires positioned themselves around the bizarre bundle and prepared to lift. Ramses banged on the door, the all-clear, and one man flung it open. Then the legionnaires heaved the bundle into the air, carried it out of the van and along a tree-lined path. Hayden blinked as daylight stung her eyes, and then grabbed a brief glimpse of where she was.
A wooden canopy stretched overhead, supported by frequent brick pillars, wrapped around with greenery. A well-presented and paved sun-trap it was currently deserted, as Hayden imagined was the rest of the zoo. Perhaps a few hardy tourists were taking advantage of the uncrowded sights, but Hayden doubted the zoo would be allowed to admit anyone for the next few hours. Most likely Ramses had convinced the zoo’s guards that SWAT was here to ensure the area was entirely safe. They were carried along a path lined by arches and hanging greenery until a side door stopped them. Gator gained access by force, and then they were inside a high-ceilinged area composed of wooden walkways, bridges, and many trees that helped with the humid atmosphere.
“Tropical zone,” Ramses nodded. “Now Gator, arm the package and set it well into the undergrowth. We don’t want any early accidental sightings.”
Hayden and the rest of her precarious bunch were deposited onto a wooden floor. Gator adjusted a few straps, added more duct tape for stability, and then fiddled with a roll of extra wire until he announced that the detonator was securely twined around the prisoners.
“And the rocker switch?” Ramses asked.
“Do you really want to add that?” Gator asked. “Marsh and Sheers might set it off prematurely.”
Ramses gave the man a speculative nod. “You are right.” He hunkered down beside the bundle, the backpack resting on the floor, Hayden tied directly on top and then Marsh and Zoe atop her. Ramses’ eyes were level with Julian Marsh’s head.
“We will be adding a sensitivity switch,” he said softly. “A rocker device that, if you are lifted or perform any big movements, makes the bomb detonate. I advise that you remain still and await the arrival of Miss Jaye’s team mates. Don’t worry, it won’t be long.”
His words sent shivers all the way down Hayden’s body. “How long?” she managed to gasp.
“The timer will be set for one hour,” Ramses said. “Just enough time to allow Gator and I to reach safety. My men will remain with the bomb, a last surprise for your friends, if they manage to find you.”
If?
Ramses stood up, taking a final look at the package he had had made, at the human flesh and the storm of fire beneath them, at the terrified expressions and the power he exhibited over all of them.
Hayden closed her own eyes, now unable to move, a terrible pressure crushing her chest against the ungiving bomb and making breathing beyond difficult. These might be the last moments of her life, and she could do no more as she heard Gator gloat about fitting the sensitivity switch, but she would be damned if she would spend them in the Tropical Zone of the New York Central Park Zoo. Instead she would drift away to the best times of her life, to Mano and their time in Hawaii, to the trails of Diamond Head, the surf of North Beach and the volcanic mountains of Maui. The restaurant on the active volcano. The seat above the clouds. The red dirt beyond the roads. The lamps flickering along Kapiolani and then the beach to end all beaches, foaming under the spreading red fire of dusk and hassle-free, the one true place in the world where she could cast off all the stress and the worries of living.
Hayden went there now, as the clock ticked down.
CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE
Drake waited inside the cop station, feeling entirely helpless as they hung on every tip, every sighting, every barest nugget in regards to Ramses, Hayden or the nuke. The truth was, New York was too big to scour in a matter of hours and the phones rang off the hook. Its people were too numerous and its visitors too plentiful. It might take ten minutes for the Army to reach the White House but, despite all its guards and security measures, how long would it take to search that relatively small place? Now, Drake thought, put that scenario in New York and where do you stand? It was a rare event when the security forces captured terrorists actually committing their act of atrocity. In the real world, the terrorists were chased and tracked down after the outrage.
Dahl arrived at last, looking disheveled and world-weary, the rest of the SPEAR team at his back. Kenzie inexplicably started looking around and asked where the evidence room was. Dahl just rolled his eyes at her and said, “Let her go or she’ll never be satisfied.” The rest of the team crowded around and heard what Drake had to say which, apart from worrying about Hayden, wasn’t an awful lot.
Moore simplified matters. “People are aware of a terrorist threat to the city. We can’t evacuate though we aren’t stopping those trying to leave. What will happen if the bomb does go off? I don’t know, but it’s not for us to think about recriminations right now. Our systems are shot, but other agencies and precincts have access to other feeds. We’re collating them as we speak. Most of the systems are up and running. The streets are quiet for New York, but sti
ll busy when compared to most towns. The roads too.”
“But nothing so far?” Smyth asked with surprise.
Moore sighed. “My friend, we are responding to a hundred of calls per minute. We’re dealing with every whacko, every prankster, and every plain scared good citizen in the city. Airspace is closed except to us. We were going to close down the Wi-Fi, the Internet, and even the phone lines, but understand we are just as likely to get a break from that avenue as we are from a street cop or an FBI agent or, more likely, a member of the public.”
“Undercovers?” Dahl asked.
“No cells remain that we know of. We can only assume that the cell now protecting Ramses was recruited nationally and by a local. We don’t believe our undercovers can help but they’re working every angle.”
“So where does that leave us?” Lauren asked. “We can’t find the cell, Ramses, Price or Hayden. We haven’t detected the nuke,” She studied every face, still at heart a civilian brought up with syndicated shows where the puzzle pieces all lined up for the final act.
“A tip is what usually does it,” Moore said. “Someone sees something and calls it in. Do y’know what they call a series of hot tips down here? Two tickets to paradise, after the old Eddie Money song.”
“So we’re waiting for a call?”
Drake led Lauren over to the balcony. The scene below was frantic, the few cops and agents remaining fighting off the shell shock, tracking amidst the rubble and the broken glass, answering calls and pecking away at keyboards, some with bloodied bandages wrapped around arms and heads and other with legs elevated, grimacing in pain.
“We should get down there,” Lauren said. “Help them.”
Drake nodded. “They’re fighting a losing battle and this isn’t even the hub anymore. Those guys just refused to leave. This means more to them than a trip to hospital. This is what good cops do, and the public rarely see it. Only the bad ones are dragged out by the press again and again, coloring the general opinion. I say we go help them too.”
The Edge of Armageddon Page 15
