“Take ’em out.” Hayden backed off a little, giving Kinimaka space to work. But before he had sighted his Glock, one of the SUVs veered sharply and smashed into the Humvee’s front end. Hayden laughed. The SUV would destroy itself long before it wrecked the Humvee.
A second SUV slowed rapidly, tires screeching and black smoke funneling from beneath its wheels until it drew level with the Humvee. The third SUV performed a similar maneuver and came up slightly behind them.
“Boxed in,” Hayden muttered. “I don’t think so.”
The second SUV turned sharply, slamming against the Humvee’s side. Hayden struggled to control the wheel, forced into the left hand lane. And now, all the windows slid open and weapons were poked out. Even the wide rear window of the SUV in front powered fully open.
“Oh fu—” Kinimaka began, and then the deadly fireworks started.
*****
Drake twisted the wheel hard. Alicia draped herself out the window shouting something like “Here, boys!” at the top of her voice, but the wind took her words and shredded them. He counted only three men left alive in the back of the F150. A second ago, they had thrown one of their dead brethren over the vehicle’s tailgate to give themselves more room.
There was no love lost between mercenaries and hired guns.
Alicia fired. Bullets pinged off the F150. One took out the small rear window. The car slewed dramatically.
“Driver’s hit,” Drake said. “You crazy bitch.”
“One,” Alicia shouted back. “That puts you last, Drake.”
Drake took matters into his own hands. These Humvees didn’t come equipped with cruise control, but they did sport something similar called throttle lock. Only difference was this thing didn’t turn off by applying the brakes. He clambered up onto the seat, keeping the wheel straight with his knees, and arched his back out of the window. His first shot sent a man flying over the side of the Ford.
“Now we’re even.”
Then the F150, driverless, careened across the interstate at fifty miles an hour and smashed into Drake’s vehicle.
*****
Hayden reacted without thinking, turning the wheel and veering toward the hard shoulder. She heard Kinimaka’s matter-of-fact comment “It’s what they want,” and peered through the hail of fire.
“We’ll lose ’em in the trees.”
Kinimaka stared at her, then back at the highway. “What?”
Hayden wrenched the wheel hard just as the third SUV swung toward her. The realignment sent their Humvee across the hard shoulder and onto the grass verge. The car began to bounce as if they’d joined a dirt track, but the three SUVs followed her.
“Look out!” Kinimaka at last saw the trees ahead.
Hayden looked grim. She ploughed toward them, pulling left at the last minute. Two SUVs followed her; the third went right. All four vehicles lost traction in the grass and dirt. The straight line of tall palm trees continued ahead for as far as the eye could see.
“Let’s slalom the shit out of this thing.” Hayden skidded right, churning up grass and mud. The enormous frond of a palm tree whacked the windshield as they scrambled by.
Kinimaka stared. “You get palm trees in Washington state?”
Hayden grimaced. “How the hell would I know? I’m from Toledo.”
Kinimaka held on tight as they cut sharp left. “Doesn’t look right is all.”
Hayden aimed the big car at the sharp camber of an upcoming curve. “Mano, Hawaii doesn’t have the monopoly on palm trees. Get over it.”
She used the momentum the camber afforded them to swing down the slope and swerve around another big tree. The Humvee banked sharply, all the weight suddenly on the passenger side, lifting onto two wheels. . .
. . .and drenched suddenly in fire as the first SUV smashed headlong into the tree with a sound like the collapsing of the sky and exploded into a fierce fireball. Hayden’s face was bathed in hot red as she took a fleeting look through the side window. Kinimaka met her eyes. They were both consummate professionals and would never say it aloud, but that look spoke volumes.
I guess that puts the boss in the lead.
The second SUV clipped their rear end and spun out of control. Hayden struggled with the wheel, and for ten crazy seconds, they skidded from left to right with the second SUV spinning out of control and keeping pace with them. . .
. . .then Hayden swung right to avoid the next tree and the SUV crashed sidelong into it. A second crunch made even the SPEAR agents wince.
The third SUV hit them at speed. Hayden jerked, saved by her seat belt. Kinimaka hit his head against the inner frame and dropped his gun. The SUV plowed on, pushing them hard. Trees and leaves, patches of sunlight and flashes of the interstate all tumbled by as if they’d entered a frenzied kaleidoscope.
Both cars came to a juddering halt. The Humvee rolled precariously up on two wheels for the second time, showing its underside before crashing back to earth, scraping noisily down the hood of the SUV as it did.
Hayden jammed the accelerator down. Wheels spun uselessly. “Shit!”
The SUV pulled back. Kinimaka swore. “They’re gonna hit us again.”
Hayden and Kinimaka needed only six seconds. The Vehicle Emergency Escape system allowed both agents to remove the windshield by pulling out the locking pins, rotating the latch handles and pushing their respective windows out.
Hayden rolled off the hood, landing feet-first and already opening fire before the SUV pounded into their Humvee.
*****
Drake and Alicia clung hard to the doorframe and then forced their bodies back through the window of the vehicle as the F150 ploughed into its front end. Drake retained enough presence of mind to land on the steering wheel itself, trying to hold it in place with his whole body. Alicia tumbled across the car, limbs flailing. Drake, stuck as he was with his body around the wheel and his face pressed to the window, was witness to the spectacular sight of the F150 actually somersaulting through space. The vehicle, propelled by a powerful momentum, hit the sloped front of the Humvee and flipped end over end. Men fell from the open bed. The huge chunk of metal crashed into the median, scraping and shuddering and vibrating to a halt.
Then, his hands were too full to think about anything other than saving their own vehicle. Desperately, he tried to undo the impetus that the F150 had given the Humvee, forcing it away from the median with brute strength, but that swift motion sent the vehicle into a spin. Tires squealed. Rubber coated the road. Thick smoke trails raged in the tire tracks. Drake held tight to the wheel with one hand and to Alicia with the other as the armored car turned over onto its roof.
At last, the world went still.
Drake groaned as he took inventory. A few bruises, a skull that pounded like the seven dwarves in a gold mine, a sprained wrist where Alicia had landed hard. When his head stopped spinning, he used the same method as Hayden to escape the car, helping to drag a foggy Alicia out after him.
Drake stood up, seeking only one thing. It came in the form of the three powerful cop cars that had so far been trailing the battle at a distance. All three were Dodge Chargers.
Drake flagged them down. The cops had been ordered by the offices of the Secretary of Defense to let the SPEAR team take the lead. That’s was why they had been staying close, but not engaging in the fray. Now, Drake slipped behind the wheel of one of the fast Chargers and fastened Alicia’s belt for her.
“Hope you’re wearing your big girl panties, Myles.” He tightened the strap and hit the gas with venom. “Time to finish this thing.”
Ahead, a great gantry hung over the interstate. The main off-ramp was signposted as Palicki Airfield.
The Charger—a super-modified police chase vehicle—spurted forward like a thing possessed, eating up the interstate as Kingston’s Viper, closely followed by the limo, Dahl’s Shelby Mustang and Komodo’s comparatively well-driven Humvee all hit the off-ramp together.
*****
Hayden leapt onto the hoo
d of the SUV, firing without pause. Kinimaka shot out its tires. Doors opened on every side. Even the rear hatch came up. Men hurled their bodies clear, trying to twist and fire at the same time. But Hayden didn’t stop. She loped straight up the windshield, shooting ahead and to her left, darted across the roof of the car and then jumped clear, landing on a mercenary she had already shot. His body made for a soft landing.
In seconds her adversaries lay scattered at her feet.
All except one.
A thin whip of a man uncoiled himself from the back seat. The machine pistol in his hand didn’t waver as Hayden drew a bead on him.
“Germaine,” she said, recognizing him from the photos they’d seen of Kingston’s associates. “Aren’t you supposed to be at your boss’s side?”
“Bitch, I just follow orders. Same as you. He threw us to the wolves to make his escape.” The tense shoulders shrugged. “Comes with the territory.”
“How about I cut you a deal? I could make the next twenty years of your life feel like a sandy beach next to what they might be.”
Germaine pursed his lips. “What kinda deal?”
Kinimaka stepped around the front of the car, his bulk not designed to be stealthy. Germaine pointed his other hand at the Hawaiian, in which a stubby handgun magically appeared.
“Stay put, bud. Mountain or not, this baby will take you down.”
Germaine then smiled at Hayden. “I’m all ears, darlin’.”
Hayden saw his plan then. The role of the SUVs and every man inside, including Germaine, had been to slow the authorities down. What they hadn’t planned on was coming up against someone like her. All three cars had taken only two agents out of the race.
Hayden cocked her head. Maybe not.
A chopper landed on the nearby hard shoulder. Cops armed with rifles and wearing Kevlar vests stormed out, closing in on Hayden’s position. Germaine saw his fate and lowered his weapons. “Worth a try.”
Hayden’s gaze zeroed in on the idling chopper. Moving fast, she grabbed Kinimaka by the shoulder and manhandled him toward it.
“Mano,” she said, “Kingston’s still running. We ain’t out of this thing yet.”
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
Dahl blipped the Shelby Mustang’s potent throttle, feeling all five hundred and forty horses respond to his touch. The Korean’s limo weaved in front of him. He could take it any time, but held off until he perceived Kingston’s end game.
It wasn’t exactly subtle. But then, what had they expected from an arms dealer?
Five vehicles blasted onto Palicki airfield, soon to be joined by two more. The Viper streaked ahead, racing around the entrance to the parking lot and aiming for the mowed-grass borders that separated the airfield’s civilian frontage from its runway system. Dahl knew that with this being strictly a low-key private airfield meant that the fences inside were easily breached, but then he saw that even that didn’t matter. Kingston must have called ahead. Gates were open and a Gulfstream IV was taxiing out of a small hangar. The G-IV was a twin-jet engine aircraft. It would take a two-man cockpit crew and up to nineteen passengers. Kingston was running, no doubt about that, and he wasn’t planning on coming back.
Was he even planning on taking the Korean General with him?
Dahl closed right up to the limo. Behind him, Komodo sat at the wheel of the surviving Humvee, his face a mask of concentration. Now, fanning out to the left, the Swede could see Drake and Alicia, making a police-decaled Dodge Charger scream in fury. Then, crazy to see, a helicopter blasted from out of nowhere, swooping low over the tops of the cars as it joined the race.
Hayden.
Dahl tweaked some more speed out of the Mustang. The Viper raced toward the jet aircraft as the plane began to accelerate down the airfield’s longest runway. The limo roared as it struggled to keep pace. Drake’s Charger edged past them on the outside. Komodo’s Humvee tucked in behind. The Helicopter swept at an angle, arrowing hard toward the Gulfstream.
Without warning the plane’s forward hatch slid open. Two armed men leaned out with what looked to Dahl like multi-grenade launcher weapons in their hands.
He looked across, reading Alicia’s lips: Fuck me!
Dahl gave Drake half a smile as he goosed the Mustang to its limit and wrenched the wheel sideways, passing under the tail of the speeding Gulfstream and in front of the limo. The limo driver gave up the ghost, slamming hard on and sending the vehicle into a multi spin. The Viper roared as it raced alongside the jet aircraft, closing in. Drake’s Charger gained new swiftness as it pealed out to the Viper’s offside. The helicopter dove in, drifting sideways as it flew, enabling Hayden and Kinimaka to draw beads on the two guys and take them out of the picture.
Their guns bounced off the runway; their bodies bounced back inside the plane.
Dahl swore loudly. The shock, elation and danger of the chase urged him to keep going. But he could see Komodo stopping beside the damaged limo and knew the ex-Delta man needed back up. The Mustang responded without complaint as he blipped the brakes and jammed on the handbrake, performed a swift one-eighty, and took off again fast enough to leave smoke obscuring his wake.
Komodo stepped out of his vehicle and approached the limo’s driver side. “Hands up!” he cried. “Come quiet, now. My little friend here would love to make a meal of you.”
Dahl stepped on the brakes, leaping out as the Mustang still drifted forward. He approached the limo’s passenger side, slipping out a Glock. The doors opened slowly. Both Dahl and Komodo stopped walking, taking aim.
A Korean stepped out of each door, hands held high. The first, a driver, fell to his knees, clearly more than petrified. Motion sickness was making the man was throw up all over himself, his body weaving even as he tried to remain frozen.
“On the ground,” Komodo said. “Arms behind your backs.”
Dahl glanced wistfully back at the ongoing race. If only he. . .
Then a fifth Korean emerged. He wore the tunic of North Korea, the flag stitched to the lapel. He glared unflinchingly and fearlessly at Torsten Dahl and he held a cell phone to his right ear.
“Engage final protocol.” Dahl heard him say in English, clearly for the Swede’s benefit as a last fuck you. “I repeat—engage final protocol. Blow up the island.”
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
Mai was standing right next to the communications console when the call came in. She was tending to Hibiki’s wounds whilst Smyth secured the Korean soldiers with twine and rope and anything else he could find. The marine had even started to eye the soldiers’ feet in consideration of using their socks as gags if they didn’t shut up jabbering about freedom and victory and the Goddamn People’s Republic.
Then, the console started flashing in front of her. Balancing on her knees beside Hibiki, she looked up. The console was made up of various toggles, big colored buttons and what looked like a sat-nav system. Around it were arrayed various sized monitors. A vivid blue light began to flash, a claxon-like ring tone sounded, and then some kind of automation program answered the call.
A hasty voice filled the room, “Engage final protocol. I repeat—engage final protocol. Blow up the island.”
Mai turned swiftly. The Korean army at last went silent. Smyth met her eyes. “Are you fuckin’ kidding me?”
With that, another ominous noise came over the brash loudspeakers, a noise that filled the room. The alarm—the intermittent clang of a horn of doom, and then a robotic voice. “Warning. Warning. Final protocol engaged. Final protocol will occur in four minutes.”
And repeat.
Mai leapt into life. “Which one’s the most senior?”
Hibiki pointed someone out. “Him.”
“Final protocol?” Mai bounded over to him. “Does it really blow up the whole island?”
The man swallowed nervously. Mai had no time to waste so she threatened him where it would make the most impact but still give him focus. “Your balls.” She said and twisted hard. “You can have them back for an
answer.” Alicia would have been proud of her.
“Ye.” He gasped in Korean. “Haeng un eul bile o yo.”
“What did he say?” Mai shouted.
Hibiki translated. “He said ‘good luck.’”
More Korean rhetoric spewed forth.
“What did he say?”
“Umm. My hovercraft is full of eels. As near as I can tell.”
Mai took it to the next level. A wrench and a three-quarter twist sent the man to his knees, squealing like a terrified warthog. The clang of the alarm deepened. The disembodied voice announced “Three and a half minutes to destruction.”
“Why’s it speaking in American?” Smyth wondered.
“It’s speaking in English because the call transmitted in English.” One of the Koreans stepped forward. “It’s adaptive. Like North Korea itself, it bends to better understand its enemies and then bends again into the shape of the hammer that destroys them.”
Smyth stared.
“You think we are all ignorant fools? Conscripts. Brainwashed by a tyrannical leader. Well—not all of us. Not even half of us. Have a good death, Americans.”
Mai sent Hibiki a hopeless look. “You know nothing about this protocol?”
The Japanese undercover agent shook his head.
Mai felt her death approaching. It was do or die time. She raised her gun and started shooting. The English speaker was the first to go, shot through the forehead and sent tumbling back into an array of instruments.
The mechanical announcement droned on, “. . .three minutes. . .”
“I’ll kill you all!” Mai promised. “One by one.” She pulled her trigger each time she spoke a word. Korean soldiers jerked and spasmed. Blood spattered each man’s neighbor and the walls behind.
“Tell me!”
“It’s not unstoppable!” One man screamed in Korean, instantly translated by Hibiki just as loud. The man held his hand up as if to ward off Mai’s bullet, putting his head down. He was not a soldier. This man was one of the island doctors.
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