Nike's Wings

by Valerie Douglas

  The others doing the same.

  Voices echoed as people hurried back into the building, fanning out to their seats, relaying information, following up on Delia’s trace, calling up blueprints and diagrams as they called out the information.

  The voices filtered through her earpiece. An address, part of a large, mostly abandoned warehouse complex with a heavy homeless population near some of the less savory sections of Baltimore. Isolated, the perfect location for Victor’s needs. Considering the afternoon traffic, it would be nearly dark by the time they reached there.

  She glanced at Mitch.

  “You were right,” he said. “Difficult enough on appearance…”

  Nodding, she shifted a little. The weight would be awkward, but she didn’t think she’d be carrying most of it for long.

  “He knows you’re coming,” Byron said, over the intercom.

  Nike glanced up to where he stood in Ty’s office, and then turned to study the maps and blueprints on the central conference table. “I’m hoping he won’t expect us to be moving on him so quickly. In any case, we’ll give him what he expects. Brad, it looks like we’ll find out how good a traceur you are.”

  He’d been the best of her students of those nearest to hand, the youngest, the most agile, and the shortest of the men. In the growing darkness, it wouldn’t matter.

  “All I need you to do is hold their attention for few moments, to draw it away from me. Probe, but don’t engage.”

  She looked at Mitch, who nodded, knowing his part. “Cover Brad.”

  “Buck, as soon as I find Ty, I’ll give you his location. Move in as fast as you can. They’ll have him in one of the warehouses in the center of the complex. Victor will very likely have given them orders to let ‘me’ pass. He’ll want me in deep to be sure of getting me.”

  She looked at Brad and Mitch, who nodded their understanding.

  “I’ll let you know the moment I’m in. Brad, then pull back with Mitch to cover. It will take them another few minutes before they realize you’re not me. That’s all I’ll need. Start moving in as soon as you can.”

  She looked from one to the other.

  Jerry came down to join them.

  Looking at the map of the complex, Jerry had to shake his head. “It’s a maze, Niki.”

  The warren of narrow roads in the warehouse complex gave plenty of cover to the enemy. All of Victor’s men had been highly trained even before Victor Torrance got his hands on them. It would be a bloodbath for both sides if they tried to do a frontal assault. A lot of good people would die, including Ty.

  Except at a distance – most cities had both police and news helicopters – choppers were out, at the first sign of one closing in Victor would simply kill Ty and disappear. However, there was a way to use that to their advantage.

  She glanced at Jerry, smiled a little thinly. “I’ve faced worse, but the lines of sight…”

  They were all straight and clean. She’d have to be fast.

  “Byron?” she asked, looking up at him for approval, standing in Ty’s office.

  “You’re a go,” he said.

  She nodded. “Let’s roll then.”

  In the distance, helicopters scanned the far side of the complex, but not too close. It had taken Niki a little time to move into position, as it had the others. There was always a chance that Victor had some of the Unit out in the fields that surrounded the buildings, but it was remote. Better by far to hold them within the confines of the complex, where their skills could be put to better use.

  It was all a gamble.

  They’d created a rough plan in the helicopters that had brought them here, landing a short distance away, but far enough, she hoped, not to alarm Victor.

  A few poorly maintained security lights illuminated the complex, but the uncertain light only seemed to make the shadows in some areas deeper.

  Silently, patiently, Nike waited in the darkness near the edge of the pavement for the others to move into position. Weeds grew thickly there. Her mind was clear and empty.

  Not far away a homeless man paced angrily, agitatedly. As with many such places, the warren of buildings had become a refuge for people like him. His arms waved as he muttered to himself. The disruption to his routine, people in his place had disturbed him.

  If he hadn’t been there, Niki had been prepared to play that part herself.

  He was making enough noise to distract any watchers.

  Through night vision goggles she saw a figure shift a little from the cover of a stack of empty pallets, his restless movements an indication that he debated what to do about the homeless man. He was a distraction. That small motion was enough.

  “Ready,” Buck’s voice said over the radio.

  “Go,” she said softly.

  She ditched the goggles, she’d no longer need them.

  Parkour was not particularly amenable to protective gear. Movement needed to be free and loose. For this, though, Brad wore the lightest helmet he could find and the thinnest vest. They were taking as few chances as they could. Otherwise he wore only a dark t-shirt and thin nylon running pants. He felt strangely naked. The team had moved in through the scrubby fields separating the complex from some of the projects. Helicopters swept across the sky on the other side of the complex, keeping their distance yet providing another distraction.

  It wasn’t the best part of the city, a maze of deserted rail ends and the battered cookie-cutter housing.

  With night vision goggles and some spotting from the helicopters, they’d slipped close enough for Brad to have room to move.

  In ghillie suits themselves, this time to mimic the grass, Buck gave the signal and Brad moved out, keeping low.

  Watching through their goggles, both Brad and Mitch saw movement. Mitch settled the sniper rifle, hoping the guard had called in the warning as he pulled the trigger. If not, when he didn’t check in, they’d be alerted.

  Even muffled, the sound of the shot seemed loud in the night silence, but given the wind and distance, it was unlikely to be noticed in this area.

  “They’ve got you, Brad,” Buck said quietly. “That’s enough.”

  Everything had to be carefully timed, keeping those inside alert, wary, and watchful…but in the wrong direction.

  Nike drew her on ghillie suit over her head, secured it just enough to keep it in place. She had her cover now, just another homeless person covered in rags. Moving through the shadows, she took the homeless man’s shopping cart. Staying hunched, she trundled it down the alley.

  With a shout, he came after her, predictably, his arms waving wildly. She said nothing, just quickened her pace a little so he would follow, so the distance would be right, until he was close enough, and then she turned the cart.

  The homeless man grabbed the end of it, tried to wrest it away from her. She repressed a twinge of guilt. It was likely everything he owned in the world, everything he treasure. But she’d never intended to take it away from him permanently. He’d be scared, but he’d live. Ty might not.

  In the alley behind her she knew the watcher or watchers would have to make a decision, either let it go and have the noise cover any sounds someone might be making or take some kind of action. If they used their weapons, the sound and muzzle flash would give them away.

  Senses alert, Nike released the cart. The homeless man stumbled back, hooting and chortling, castigating her wordlessly as he scurried backward, dragging his cart with him. It clattered and rang.

  Staying stooped, Nike saw the guard shift. All she’d needed was to get close enough.

  There was a brief moment when she could sense the guard hesitate, the anomalies flashing through his mind. It was enough. She spun, flicked her wrist.

  As with all of Victor’s men, like him she was an assassin, but she’d never been able to rely on brute strength. So she’d been trained to be quick, agile, and skilled with a number of weapons. Including knives.

  Eyes widening in disbelief, he dropped his gun with a clatt
er and clapped his hands to his throat, and found the knife buried there. Blood poured down his throat, drowning and silencing him. He had no chance to warn anyone. Nike caught his headset in her hand as he went down, one hand at his throat, the other to break his fall. Even as he shuddered and collapsed, she drew the small transmitter the headset was connected to from his pocket.

  Victor had never really appreciated what she could do with her Parkour skills or a knife. He’d scoffed at her light, low-caliber weapons until he’d seen how deadly she was with them. The rest was too intangible for him, even though he’d seen it. She was counting on that.

  Wiping the earpiece, she settled the guard’s headset over her ear.

  From what she could hear, the first part of the plan seemed to be working. For the moment…

  “Clear,” she said.

  Sprinting, Nike leaped to the pallets the guard had hidden behind for cover, used them to jump for the coping of the building, swinging up in a cat vault to perch nearly silently on the top of the wall.

  Undoubtedly, Victor would have told them to watch for her, but human beings rarely looked up and while he might have told his men of her skills, most had never really seen her in action. It was still something out of movies for most people, not a reality.

  The singular truth was the more guards that were present the more likely it was that there was something to guard behind them. She just had to find the building with the most guards.

  Before they realized Brad had just been a feint.

  Racing for the edge of the roof, keeping low, she built up speed, already knowing the distances between the buildings. She pushed off the corner, landed on the next nearly silently

  She cleared that building and the one after as easily as she’d expected, hearing the moment when they realized their quarry – Brad – had disappeared, and the guard wasn’t answering.

  Which meant that very soon Buck, Mitch and Brad would be on the move through the complex.

  Listening to the voices in the headset, it was obvious that Victor’s people were confused, checking, backtracking. As the alarm spread, they started roll-calling teams. Now it was only a matter of time and that was running out. Nike had to move quickly, but she still had to do it with care.

  The bullet zipped by so close she felt it tug at her hair as she heard the distant crack of a high-powered rifle. In the dark, at that distance and range, and as fast as she was moving, there were only a few people who could have made that shot.

  One of them was Daniel Garcia.

  Well, now they knew she was coming, but she also had a good idea where to find them. Here were the guards for whom she’d been looking.

  Sniper rifles were only good, though, for relatively stationary targets from a fixed position. They weren’t much good against a fast-moving target. Which she was as raced across the rooftop, launched herself into space, and landed to dive and roll.

  Of course, they also now knew where she was, on the roofs, which meant she had to be somewhere else very soon.

  She came to her feet looking for cover even as she ran, moving at an angle as another shot rang out, whistling past close enough to chill her blood.

  Garcia was good. He was also near enough for her to hear the report of the gun, and adjust his weapon to her new position.

  Nearby was an array of equipment, air conditioner vents, the elevator housing. She darted behind it. Glanced around the bulk of it quickly. A dull glow emanated through what looked like grimy skylights, barely visible even in the darkness. Light meant people. Victor. And Ty.

  Somewhere in that building was Ty.

  Light, guards… it couldn’t be anything else. She was momentarily breathless, desperate to see him. To know that he was all right.

  There were no other lights.

  It was time to call in the cavalry.

  Reaching up to her headset, she said, “Byron.”

  “Here.”

  “Go.”

  She pulled one of the flash-bang grenades from her pocket and lobbed it across to another building.

  It made a satisfying clatter as it rolled and tumbled across the rooftop. In any event it would make a nice bright light and a loud noise when it went off, which it did even as she sprinted in the opposite direction.

  Garcia would figure that it was a diversion quickly enough, but the flash would make it difficult for him to see for a moment. Just long enough.

  The flash-bang also had one side benefit. Buck and the boys would also know where she was, would even now be closing in on the sound of it.

  Ty heard the sound of the grenade going off, and saw the light. So did those with him, giving him a brief respite. They’d moved him down into the empty warehouse to give them more room to work. Braced on one hand and a knee, he drew in a breath around battered ribs and aching kidneys. Lacking more sophisticated methods, or to soften him up for worse, they’d started with physical abuse. It wasn’t the first time he’d faced it, but that didn’t make it any easier.

  Even so, the sound of the thing exploding made his heart both leap and ache.

  Niki.

  She was here.

  He recognized that sound, as did his captors, and knew what it meant. Niki was not only here, but close.

  So was Garcia.

  Fear for her and fury at Torrance fueled him, gave him an extra burst of strength.

  For just a moment both of his tormentors took their attention from him for just a moment, a very brief distraction.

  That was all Ty needed. He might not have been trained like these men had been, but he was still a skilled operative and fully capable of doing some damage. If Niki was here, Buck, Mitch and Brad were close.

  He was damned if he wasn’t going to fight back.

  The additional spurt of adrenaline, knowing Niki was up there somewhere, gave him additional strength.

  Ty braced himself on his hands and rammed his foot into the back of the thigh of the closest, forcing the man’s leg and knee to buckle. He caught one flailing arm and pulled, hard, to send that guard stumbling into the other even as the man tried to shift to change his momentum and course.

  The attack was completely unexpected. Ty took advantage of their surprise.

  It would only be momentary, he knew.

  As Nike ran, she threw the other flash-bang toward the roof of the opposite building, not caring where it went off, just that it did. It was as much a beacon for Buck, Mitch and Brad as a distraction.

  She ran, full out, full tilt, and leaped.

  Her feet hit the flat blacktopped roof at the same time she saw Garcia, stretched out behind his gun, the barrel swiveling toward her. She dove over a skylight, rolled to her feet and spun away just as he pulled the trigger. The shot went wide.

  In the dim light she could see him scramble to his feet. He stood, tried to use the sniper rifle as a standard one.

  She was closer, though, close enough to kick the barrel aside, then spun into a back kick.

  He ducked and threw the gun at her.

  She dodged, but it caught a piece of her, clipping her hip and back and throwing her briefly off-balance as Garcia came at her.

  The flash of metal in the dim light was warning enough as Garcia slashed at her, looking around frantically.

  Whatever else, she knew Garcia wasn’t a fighter; he was an assassin. He liked to kill people when they didn’t know he was coming, from behind, when they couldn’t fight back, or from a distance.

  Nike sucked in a breath, danced away, as she reached for her guns.

  Her bullet hit him squarely in the chest as Nike spun away from next lunge. The surprise of the impact drove him back a step. He glanced down, his expression murderous.

  Garcia was wearing a bullet-proof vest.

  Her next shot went behind him.

  Glass shattered.

  Startled by the sound, Garcia glanced behind him, wondering what she was up to.

  Nike leaped and spun.

  The kick caught him in the head, sent him flyi
ng backward…into empty space. He tumbled through the broken skylight, arms and legs flailing to catch a hold and stop his fall.

  Glass crashed above them. The pieces fell like bombs. Ty dove out of the way, as did his two guards, giving him a necessary break. At best he’d been holding his own against them, but he was determined to go down fighting.

  All eyes were drawn upward, and one of Ty’s tormentors shielded his face and eyes against the chunk of glass that shattered nearly at his feet.

  And the body that fell after it.

  Ty glanced up quickly, to see a familiar face look down through the shattered skylight, her hair blowing around her lovely face.

  Niki.

  He hadn’t missed whose body lay on the floor.

  Daniel Garcia.

  Victor’s voice in her other ear told Nike they were coming after her, closing off the stairs, getting ready to hit the roof. It was too soon for the cavalry to help her, although she could see them in the distance, closing. She slapped the beacon into place.

  She’d only thought to make certain Garcia was dead. She was stunned to look down at the floor below to find Ty standing there, his hair shockingly white, his face bloodied.

  But alive.

  He wasn’t alone.

  Below her was an open steel structure to support the lights and ductwork, with catwalks to reach the ventilation, girders and cables. To her left offices filled the one wall, looking out over the work floor. The drop was too great to reach him.

  Even battered, and she could tell he was, he could still move. Was moving. Was still fighting.

  Her heart leaped, just to see him alive.

  She snapped off a shot to drive the two men back. Both looked up and dove away.

  “Buck,” she said, into her headset, “back of the building, a big truck entrance, small door. Ty’s got company, and more is coming. Move fast.”

  “Got it,” he said.

  She heard a bang as Brad blew the door.