The Finish Line r5-5

by Cliff Ryder

Oh, shit! David peered one way, then the other, trying to see as far down as he could without opening the door. There was no sign of her in either direction. Damn it! He was just about to open the door and go after her when it swung toward him, almost hitting his face.

  "Where the hell were you?" he asked.

  Her arms were full of medical supplies, along with a white jacket. "Hey, relax, I found a storeroom and took advantage of it. I got bandages, gauze, tape, alcohol, everything we need. Now hold still." She knelt down and lifted his shirt, wincing as she peeled it away from his wound. "Ow, that's nasty."

  "Just get something on it and let's get out of here," he said.

  "Hold still, and I will. This wing seems pretty quiet. No one's running around or anything — it's almost like they haven't even heard of the crash yet."

  "Good for usss!" David's breath hissed between his teeth as he tried not to cry out when she swabbed alcohol on his wounds.

  "Sorry, I know this isn't the nicest treatment, but it'll have to do until you can get treated by a professional."

  "That's irony for you — surrounded by doctors, and we can't ask a single one for help," he said.

  The comment brought a smile to Maggie's lips as she worked. "You always crack jokes when you've been shot?"

  "Takes my mind off the pain."

  "Well, I'm sure any doctor here would say try not to include so much lead in your diet, then call the police next. Sorry, but you're stuck with me for the time being." She folded a bandage into a double-thick pad and securely taped it over the side wound, then did the same with the shoulder injury, recovering the entry and exit wound. "That'll do for now. Here, clean up your hands, and wipe down your face while you're at it." She held out a handful of self-sealed antiseptic wipes for him.

  "You thought of everything," he said.

  "Well, you did save my life back there — twice — so I figured I should probably start pulling my weight somehow."

  "So far, so good."

  "All right, Doctor." Maggie held out the lab coat. "We should be able to get outside with this and to the street. I hope your little gizmo can open car doors, as well. It'd be embarrassing to see a doctor standing next to his car with a bent coat hanger." Her words were light, but David still detected the undercurrent of fear in them. Which is probably just how I sound when I talk right now, he thought.

  They took the last flight of stairs down to the ground floor, and once again Maggie poked her head out to make sure the coast was clear before David emerged. Although this level was crowded with people, no one gave them a second glance, as they were all intent on their own business. As they walked, David heard snatches of conversation about something that had happened on the premises.

  "…helicoptere…"

  "…accident…"

  "…quatre personnes mortes…"

  David stiffened at that last bit, but Maggie kept him moving toward the double doors that led outside. They came out into a broad thoroughfare that led to other areas of the hospital grounds. "All right, wheels."

  A sleek silver hatchback pulled in from the street to the north and parked near an entrance about ten yards down from them. A harried-looking man dressed in a suit and tie got out and rushed into the hospital, barely slamming his door closed behind him.

  "That'll work. Come on." David headed over, glancing casually around to make sure no one was watching. He extruded the prongs on his phone again and pressed a button. After a few seconds, the locks popped open on the car. "Get in."

  "Hey, it might be best if I drive, given your condition," Maggie said.

  David regarded her for a moment, then nodded. He went to the passenger's side and sank into the leather seat with a grimace. "Ow."

  Maggie got in the driver's seat. "Okay, start 'er up."

  "Right." David extended the second prong, making it longer this time. "Put that into the keyhole and press seven three times."

  Maggie did so, and the ignition turned over without her hand moving, the engine purring quietly. "Wow."

  "Yeah, now let's hit the road before the suit comes back to find us boosting his ride."

  Maggie adjusted the seat, belted up, shifted into gear and pulled out, aiming for the same entrance the man had come through. She slammed on the brakes as a large cargo truck lurched into the entryway, blaring its air horn as it screeched to a halt. The driver threw up both of his hands in the universal gesture of exasperation, shaking his head and mouthing what were no doubt aspersions on Maggie's dexterity, ancestry and anything else he could think of. Smiling sweetly, she squeezed the car through the narrow opening, turning right on the street and accelerating away.

  David had just managed to get his seat belt fastened before slamming into it, the restraint locking up across his chest and lap, and making his injuries flare with so much pain he nearly blacked out. His vision was dimming, turning gray around the edges, and he couldn't move, couldn't talk, couldn't think. His last conscious memory was seeing her turn to him and ask, "Where to, David — David?"

  30

  "Damn it, David, don't you flicking die on me now!"

  Maggie tried to divide her attention between staying on the road and checking the agent, or whatever he was, to make sure he was still breathing. She placed a hand on his chest and was relieved to find he was still alive. "Oh, thank God." Alarmed horns alerted her to her drifting car, and Maggie quickly straightened up before she sideswiped somebody.

  With that minicrisis over, she concentrated on where they were, and more importantly, where they were going. She found a broad avenue and turned left onto it.

  A chirping noise filled the car, and Maggie nearly strained her neck, whipping her head around to see where it was coming from. After a startled few seconds, she realized David's cell phone was trilling.

  "Crap, what now?" She pulled over and, holding her breath, she removed the phone from the ignition, amazed to find that the car still kept running. She stabbed the green connect button, holding the phone to her ear gingerly, as if it might attack her at any second, as she pulled back onto the road.

  "Hello?" said a clear, calm, female voice on the other end.

  "Hello." Maggie's response was automatic, but she didn't say anything more.

  "May I ask who this is?"

  "No, you may not. In fact, I'd rather you told me who the hell you are first."

  "I'm a friend of the man in the car next to you. You might say I'm his boss," the voice said.

  Maggie grimaced. Wonderful, more double-talk bullshit. Without realizing it, her speed began creeping up as she tried to escape the city faster. "Great, but that doesn't really answer my question. Who are you affiliated with?"

  "I'm afraid I don't quite follow you."

  Maggie jerked the phone away from her ear and rubbed the mouthpiece on the seat belt. "Hmm, the connection's breaking up here. Now, stop jerking me around. Who do you work for?"

  "We're an independent organization, if that's what you're wondering."

  Son of a bitch! Is this guy with another mercenary group? she wondered, alarmed. "And if I said the name Mercury Security, your response would be?"

  "We are not a private security organization, if that is your concern."

  "That's just one of my concerns at the moment."

  "I'm sure it is. May I speak to the owner of this phone, please?"

  Interesting how she never says his name, Maggie thought, shooting her unconscious passenger a sidelong glance. "I'm afraid he can't come to the phone right now — in fact, I gotta go, too."

  "Miss, wait, is he hurt? Please, don't hang up, we can help you…" was all she heard before Maggie clicked off the phone. She held the sleek unit in her palm for a moment as she wondered what to do. What else does this thing do, I wonder? Can it track us? If she hadn't had both hands occupied, she would have smacked her forehead. Shit, of course they can triangulate on our position. Hell, if this guy's with the government — no matter what she said — I gotta ditch this thing.

  At the next int
ersection, Maggie pulled up to a truck with an open-topped flatbed filled with broken concrete. She held the phone for another moment, then lowered the window and tossed the chirping device up into the back of the truck, which was turning left onto another boulevard.

  Okay, what to do, what to do? At the next light, she wrestled her laptop out of its case and inserted her mobile satellite Internet card. Her encrypted connection would pop up on the Web for a few minutes, but since she was moving, she felt it was worth the risk. Besides, I need help right fucking now.

  Logging on, she placed a scrambled VOIP call to a number known only by a handful of people in the world, inserting her wireless earpiece into her ear while she waited. Next to her, David moaned and stirred restlessly in his seat. A fine sheen of sweat gleamed on his forehead. And this is just what I need, as well, to haul around a wounded secret agent. As soon as the thought popped into her head, Maggie felt a bit guilty. After all, the guy had been standing between her and that other gunman when he'd gotten shot.

  Come on, come on…At last, someone picked up.

  "Hello?"

  "G?"

  "Is this who I think it is?"

  "Yeah."

  "Girl, what the hell happened? My guy was ready to meet you, and the next thing he knows, crazy fools are capping each other and setting off noisemakers all over the place." Even on his secure line, Aragorn was careful not to refer to guns or explosives or any actual locations. "They've pretty much shut down the trains coming or going out of there, you know."

  "Good thing I'm in a car, then," Maggie said.

  "Do I want to know how you acquired it?"

  "Through my new friend," she said.

  "The kind of friends you got, I'd hate to see your enemies."

  "Yeah, ask your buddy — he probably saw them up close and personal before the fireworks started."

  "He did mention something about that."

  "Well, look, since I was unavoidably diverted from making my connection, I still need the hookup."

  Maggie heard a long, drawn-out hiss of breath in her ear. "Should I assume that what happened today involved you?"

  Maggie thought about lying for a second, but discarded the idea. She needed Aragorn more than ever, and if he found out she'd lied to him, he'd disappear like smoke in the wind — or worse, hang her out to dry. Besides, he probably had a voice-stress analyzer monitoring the call anyway. "Yes," she said.

  Aragorn murmured in disapproval. "Heat like that I do not need, you know."

  "I know, I know. I wouldn't ask if I didn't need the help — you also know that."

  "Maybe so, but I think you need to level with me, so I know what the hell I might be getting myself into."

  "The shit I got myself into involves men who would do the kind of stuff that went down today. They're the kind of men who would wax my brother without even thinking twice. That's the kind of shit I'm in, and I need help — your help — to get out of it, all right?" Maggie's eyes gleamed with tears as she spoke about her brother, but her voice was as cold and clear as ever. I'll be damned if I give him the satisfaction of hearing me cry — or beg for that matter.

  There was a long pause again, and Maggie was sure Aragorn was just playing with her. He'd always liked to pull juvenile shit like that.

  "All right, but I'm gonna need another ten percent. No negotiating this time. I've already laid out expenses on this, and now I gotta set up another net for you on short notice. Where are you right now?" he finally said.

  In her haste to get out of the city, Maggie hadn't paid any attention to where she was going, and now looked up in surprise as a jumbo jet airliner roared over the avenue she was on, crossing her vision from west to east. She waited for the ringing in her ears to die down. "I'm near an airport, if you hadn't guessed."

  "Do you know what direction you're heading?" he asked.

  Maggie scanned the dashboard for any help, and found a digital compass to her right. "Yeah, north-northeast."

  "Good, I can work with this. Keep going on this road until you're out of town, then follow the directions I'm sending you. Call me once you get to the outskirts, and we'll go from there. Drive safe, and for God's sake don't get pulled over."

  "No shit. Hey — thanks."

  "Thank me only once we get you safely tucked away. Now hang up and concentrate — you've got a ways to go."

  "I'll see you soon."

  "Not if I see you first." Aragorn clicked off, and Maggie disconnected her call just as a chime from her computer announced an e-mail had arrived. Opening it revealed a map and the quickest route to Brussels, Belgium. Settling into the seat, she glanced over at David, still breathing shallowly, and focused all of her concentration on quietly getting them out of France without any more bullets whizzing by, explosions going off or cold-eyed, brown-haired men coming after them — apart from the one in the seat next to her.

  31

  During her two years as head of Room 59, Kate couldn't remember an op going so bad so fast.

  There was always a chance, of course. Agents got themselves into trouble, getting arrested or injured in other countries, sometimes getting killed while trying to execute their missions, but they had never had what should have been a simple extraction blow up in their face like this. Four Midnight Team members were dead, at least two members of Mercury Security were dead, as well, plus two French police officers dead and three wounded. Besides that, there were reports of at least four civilians injured, two severely. That was something that Kate couldn't stand. It was the one ironclad rule that she had made sure was instilled in every agent. An innocent — a true innocent, not someone who just didn't know what Room 59 was about — should not be harmed unless the operative simply had no choice in the matter. And while she was sure that none of her people would have been responsible, she knew how it was going to look to her superiors.

  As if sensing the worst possible time to interrupt her train of thought, Kate's computer chimed. She answered it wearily. "Yes?"

  Judy's grim face appeared on the monitor. "We've heard what just happened at the Gare du Nord. The board has convened a special session to decide what, if anything, needs to be done."

  Kate barely kept her mouth from dropping open. The board of the International Intelligence Agency was made up of nine people, each from a different country around the world, who provided oversight of Room 59. They selected the missions the agency sent its agents on, and could veto or otherwise modify a mission to their liking but they didn't interfere once a mission was underway. Kate had never heard of an impromptu meeting like this being called, and she immediately smelled a rat.

  "I'm sorry to contact you on such short notice, but this was the best time they could meet. I'm taking you in now."

  Before Kate could protest, the picture dissolved into the standard virtual reality conference boardroom where they discussed all Room 59 business with their superiors. Usually the boardroom was plush and inviting, with leather swivel chairs and a rich mahogany table that stretched almost the length of the rectangular room. Now, however, it looked dark and forbidding, matching the appearance of the nine silhouettes that materialized to sit in the chairs on both sides of the table. A small national flag floated above each dark form, representing the United States, the United Kingdom, France, Germany, Italy, Saudi Arabia, Russia, Australia and China. Although the U.S., the U.K., China and Russia had permanent seats on the IIA board, the other five positions were held on a rotating schedule. And even though Kate had no idea who was behind the faceless human figures in each seat, she had ascertained enough to get a general feel for how the old guard would react to this breach. It was the new members — Saudi Arabia, Italy and Australia — that she hadn't gotten a handle on yet. At the moment, however, all of the silhouettes appeared more menacing than they ever had before, vague shadows that could destroy everything she had been working for, if they felt she wasn't working in the agency's best interests. That realization brought with it a cold feeling in the pit of her stomach that
Kate rarely, if ever, felt — fear.

  Steeling her gaze, she remembered what Denny Talbot, the North American Room 59 director, had told her the very first time she had gone before the board when a mission had gone wrong. "Never let 'em see you sweat. Our people are going to make mistakes, but our job is to fix what went wrong as quickly as possible, and get back on track. The examination, recriminations and punishment, if any, will come later." She had gotten through the inquiry that time, and she would get through this one, too.

  No time like the present, she thought, reaching for her virtual glasses. She slipped them on, putting her on an equal footing with everyone else. To her left, she saw Judy sitting quietly two seats away, her expression inscrutable.

  The black figures hid any trace of gender, but Kate always made sure to address both, just in case. "Ladies and gentlemen, no doubt you have all heard of the incident that occurred in the Gare du Nord train station in Paris at approximately 1035 hours local time. Rather than rehash the details, I will fill you in on what we know. The target has been acquired, and is under guard by one of our operatives at the moment. We are making arrangements to bring both of them in as soon as possible, using every available resource."

  As she had figured, the announcement brought a wave of mutters from the board members. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Judy stiffen in her seat, her eyebrows narrowing at the news. Didn't think I'd pull that one out, did you? Kate thought grimly.

  The flag above the United States representative glowed in the dim room as the figure below it spoke. "In the interests of security, only the four permanent seats on the board have been made aware of the exact nature of the target's value to certain parties. I apologize for this necessity, but wish to reassure the other members that it was vital that this level of security be maintained. However, given what we know at this time, do you, Director, believe that the sort of force sent to recover this target was necessary, when perhaps a standard operative would have been more successful?" Although Kate didn't know who the U.S. rep was, she knew he was someone new and not familiar with her work.