Читать книгу Fight Fire With Fire - Amy J. Fetzer - Страница 9

Sungei Kadut

Singapore

Max was finishing off Riley’s wrap when he saw movement behind the salty glass of a storefront. He grabbed his binoculars, sighted, shifting his position on the windowsill. His side of the neighborhood was empty except for a couple of dogs that would end up as dinner if they weren’t careful. A few entrances up from Vaghn’s suspected address, a bell plinked as a shop door opened.

A man appeared, then turned west. That he didn’t look left kept Max watching. Who didn’t check for oncoming anything? Max slipped back inside and went to the laptops, keying up the next street in their four-block radius. He focused the tiny pen-sized cameras, then saw the man turn the corner. A few seconds passed before he could get a face shot.

The man appeared, his image clarifying with each step closer.

Max grabbed the radio. “Riley. It’s not him!”

“Repeat last?” came back. “I’m three feet away.”

Max grabbed his weapon, holstering it behind his back. “I’m telling you, he’s here . Your guy’s a freakin’ decoy!”

Over the wire, he heard a scuffle, then cursing. When Riley’s voice came back on, he could tell he was hoofing it fast. “Some Australian. Vaghn paid him a hundred. Where the hell is Vaghn now?”

“On Pi Nang Road, west. I’m going after him.” Max went out the fire escape, and when he hit the ground, the ladder shot off its track. He darted out of the way as it crashed to the pavement and crumbled in a pile of rusted iron. “One step closer to demolition.”

He took off in a hard run and glimpsed the guy’s brown tee shirt that hung to his thighs, his jeans rippling with fabric. “Behind the village, toward the river,” he said over the personal roll radio. “Same clothes, same pack.”

Where was he going? There wasn’t a damn thing on the water except shanty homes slapped together with tin and wood discards from recent construction. The river was so shallow along tributaries the next monsoon would wash away any evidence of their existence. He hauled ass past new construction toward the old and almost untouched. Lush with palms and towering banana trees, the paved land blended into dirt roads, rutted and sloping toward the water.

Far ahead, Vaghn walked a steady pace, unaware. Then two men in a flat bottom boat appeared around the curve of a jetty. Vaghn quickened his steps.

“Put some fire under it, buddy,” Max said into the mic. “He’s got a ride.”

Seletar Airstrip

He knew her by no other name than Odette.

“What I don’t understand is why you aren’t handling it yourself,” she said, then sipped warm tea.

He couldn’t place her accent and wondered if, like him, she strove to cover it. The less people knew of him the better. It was something they had in common. “Like your employer, I can delegate.”

“We have warned you.” She set her cup down with a click. “He’s immature and a genius. Those are qualities not easily handled, neh?”

“I’m due a measure of trust.”

She scoffed, her smile tinged with patience delivered to the mentally incapable. Barasa felt his shoulders tighten. The pretty little bitch would learn not to dare more than that with him.

“Trust is not a commodity in business. Any business.”

At least they agreed on that and planned for it. “When will he show himself?”

“When we have completed the next phase.”

“He promised the perfect delivery system.”

Something skated across her flawless face just then, and he didn’t try to decipher it. The woman was not the force in this dangerous bargain, but merely the messenger.

“You will have it.” She made a show of checking the time. “We will expect to hear from you within the deadlines you set.”

“You came all this way to say that?”

“No. I’m here to demonstrate that, should you betray us, we will find you.”

“If he wishes to fold”—he shrugged—“I won’t oppose.”

Her smile was slow and thin, her blue eyes taking on a victorious gleam he’d seen only in the pump of sex.

“And you’re prepared to return the money he has already fronted? Won’t that be difficult when you’ve already spent most of your share?”

His features stretched tight. How did they know anything? No one knew…his gaze immediately scanned his surroundings. Their position was in the open, yes, but also far enough to see anyone approach. He saw nothing unusual.

“No one has betrayed you, Barasa.”

He looked at her and she tilted her head, the move coy yet somehow ill-fitting on this woman. He offered the truth. “Had they, they would be dead.”

She nodded once, regally. “Sometimes loyalty accompanies strict rules of self-preservation. Your clever discretion and influence has earned his admiration.”

His brows knit as he considered what would bend her loyalty.

He stood with her.

“It’s in your best interest to keep the genius alive and out of Western hands.” She tossed the napkin on the table. “Bring him to us.” She turned away, starting toward the plane.

He called to her, but she didn’t stop, and he rushed to grasp her arm. He heard the click of bullets chambered and looked at the plane. From under the open staircase, two men advanced from either side and aimed rifles with infrared scopes. The gaping entrance in the fuselage remained empty, yet a gun barrel slid from hiding.

She didn’t have to tell him to let go. He put his hands up, stepping back.

“Again you have underestimated, Cale.”

His gaze narrowed. He didn’t like anyone calling him that.

“Anticipating your enemy is necessary for success,” she said.

“I’m not your enemy. We are equal partners.”

“Equal?”

“I am risking everything while your boss hides in the shadows giving orders,” he snarled at her, taking a step closer and ignoring the men with weapons.

“Are you not capable of the task?”

“Do not insult me, woman. Of course I—”

“Then enough.”

The words weren’t sharply spoken, but he felt their bite. Something shifted between them and not in his favor.

“Do you want more money, is that it? Or simply to see a face when it’s shown to you several times already?” She flicked her hand at the jet and men. “We have step one. Now stop this… whining and fulfill your obligations.” She spun away and mounted the steps. “Succeed, and the rewards will be many, Barasa.” She paused to look back at him, smile, and add, “And I don’t mean in virgins.”

Barasa chuckled under his breath, admiring her ass shifting inside the gray cloth as she took the stairs. She never once looked back as she was swallowed inside the jet. The guards filed in, the door raising on a hydraulic hush and the locks clamped it seamlessly. Barasa hurried away as the engine powered up for takeoff.

“Hey,” someone said and he looked at the guard standing near his car.

“Address me as sir and nothing else. What do I pay you for?”

“Answering your phones.” The beefy man held out a clean one.

He suddenly realized that the woman couldn’t have arrived so quickly if she hadn’t known where he was first. He stared at the phone. She must have tracked it and while removing the GPS would end her watchful eye, the phone wouldn’t work without it. Disposable cells were easier. He put the phone to his ear.

“We have the package,” the gravely voice said.

Barasa snickered. Of that, he did not doubt. “Bring him to me, and take away his phone.”

“Yes sir.”

He waited till the jet banked off the runway and into the sky, then slid into the back of the town car. He wasn’t without influence and scrolled through his phone numbers for just the right advantage. He didn’t doubt Odette and her mysterious master were doing the same to him. He hadn’t survived in this business by being careless.

Max’s words pushed Riley, his arms pumping as he ran. He darted into the street, around people and cyclists, then jumped a cart, spilling baskets to the ground. A hunched man shouted at him in Mandarin, and his new kneecaps held up as he sprinted out of the dreary projects onto a newly paved street. Cars raced dangerously close together. He stopped, catching his breath. A traffic circle was packed with little cars like bugs marching to a nest. It led off in three directions but not anywhere he wanted to go. He watched the cars, then stepped into traffic. Horns honked, drivers shouted. A cab came so close he felt it brush and he figured it was now or get killed standing here. He darted between cars, then hopped on the back of a pint sized Carmen Gia, holding on as it took him around the curve. The driver shouted at him and Riley felt the bumper give under his weight. He had to jump, his target coming fast.

This is gonna hurt. He pushed off, but the driver sped up a fraction, and he tumbled to the road. His elbow burned as he rolled away from the street, then hopped to his feet.

“Finn, come back.”

Riley frowned. Why was he using call signs? “I hear you.”

“He’s on the docks.” Max’s voice popped in his ear. “Two men in a boat heading toward him. Christ, the package waves like a pansy.”

Riley paused on the balls of his feet, spying between the trees. The river looked almost black from the road. It was deceiving, the tributaries only hip deep. It confused him when he heard the soft putt of a motor and he rushed into the trees toward the water. Two men in a flat bottom boat floated toward the dock, the trolling motor small enough to accommodate the low water level. The pair in the boat looked like any local; big shirts over a muscle tank, but that’s where it ended. Riley was thinking fast as Vaghn waved with big gestures. It annoyed his chauffeur as he expertly slid the boat sideways to the dock.

“Back off, Drac.”

“We’ll lose him.”

“They’ve been here before and the locals know it. Look at them.” On their approach, people vanished, retreating into huts, dropping what they were doing and melting into the forest along the banks. “That’s too familiar.”

He recognized fear in their faces. If just showing up provoked that, then it was probably a smuggling trail. Within moments, there was only Vaghn, the docks, and his cabbies. The boat rocked as Vaghn stepped in and apparently not fast enough. The cabbie yanked him into the center seat, his partner in the rear. They used the long handled paddles to push away and under their loose shirts, Riley saw weapons.

“Christ, they’ve got an Israeli Galeils, and I’ve got two magazines. Sebastian where are you, man?”

“Stuck behind a rickshaw,” Sebastian said. “ I could walk there.”

He looked back at the road and saw the hood of the truck behind a cycle cart. “When you can, go north, cut them off.”

“What are you thinking?”

He told them.

Sebastian snorted. “You don’t actually think that will work, do you?”

“We don’t have much choice now that he has help. And I’m not into automatic gunfire with so many locals nearby.”

He wasn’t leaving without Vaghn. No bloody question about it. He hauled ass to get further ahead of them. The craft was moving slow, idling in the short canal as one man used a cell phone, the call no more than seconds. The main body of water was just a few yards ahead. The only path was around hundreds of soggy juts of land. Riley moved out on one of them, stopping to yank on thick green vines and cut a portion. He turned in a small circle to wrap it around his chest, then moved further out on the peninsula.

Max appeared in the forest several yards to his right. He crouched low, winded, then swiped his hand over his face. “That’s some definite skill there.”

“The norm lately, huh?” Riley approached a tree and quickly climbed.

Max moved into position. “This better work.”

The armed twins kept an eye on their surroundings and only the dense undergrowth concealed Riley. Broad branches curled without direction, the porous limbs seeking water and light. Soft moss coated the north side, and he slipped, hitting his chin, nearly biting off his tongue. He shimmied quickly toward a thick branch hanging over the river. Stringy green-gray moss draped inside the trees so dense it felt like a cave. Riley slid a length of vine free, rolling it, then feeding it down and up. This would be tricky, but automatic gunfire could spray the huts hiding villagers.

“Eagle’s in the nest.”

The craft was about fifteen feet long. He’d seen the like all over Asia. Farmers used them to bring goods to market. They could accommodate a lot of weight. Lucky for me, they tip easy . The boat slipped forward on the current, its motor silent, the pair of guards using the paddles to guide. He could tell it was shallow, too flat and clear nearly to the center. Drowning their asses wasn’t an option. Vaghn wore a satchel and pack like the last guy, yet it was his death grip hug on it that clued Riley in. No telling what that guy could invent when he wasn’t restrained.

Fifteen feet away, Max laid on the branch hanging over the water, his legs hooked around the wood. The boat passed. Max waited till it was nearly beyond his reach to grab the rear man and drag him off the back. It rocked the craft, and Riley dropped the vine around Vaghn’s head and shoulders. He swatted at it, lifting one arm to take it off and Riley pulled. He jerked up, his legs scraping the boat and the man in front turned, drew his gun. Vaghn kicked, dangling over the water, and Riley almost laughed when crocs slid into the river from the opposite bank.

Vaghn saw them and screamed. “Help me! You have to help me! Shoot them! Shoot them !”

The twins didn’t. The boat driver was on the bank, out cold and face down already. Way to whip on it, Max.

Riley’s muscles strained and he swung Vaghn, the branch bending under their weight. He heard a crack. Maybe this wasn’t such a great idea. Vaghn was sliding out of the loop. The second guard had recovered, aiming his weapon, but he didn’t shoot, searching the foliage for a target. Crocs moved in. Riley heaved, giving the guy a chance and let go. Vaghn barely landed on the bank, wet to his thighs and digging at the mud to get out.

“Drac,” Riley warned.

“I’m on him,” Max said.

Riley moved briskly down, tough to do going backwards, then he jumped. Max held the vines, having a little too much fun sweeping the jungle floor with Vaghn. The geek clawed the ground and screamed like a slasher movie victim, false arrest or something. Riley was on him, a knee in his back, and pushing his face into the ground so he’d shut up. He pulled off his backpack. Max tossed him cuffs and he twisted Vaghn’s arms behind his back and locked them down.

“Help me, you have to!” he shouted at the boat trolling just out of range.

One man was looking for his buddy. Oh yeah, feel the love. Riley stood, pulling Vaghn to his feet. Recognition was instant and Riley smiled. “You knew this would happen.”

“Give it up, Donovan. You have no jurisdiction here!”

“Ahh, but today, I do.”

Max flipped the Diplomatic Security ID in front of his face. It paid to have friends in the intelligence community.

“That’s bullshit. You’re Dragon One.” Vaghn struggled.

Riley tightened his grip, pulling him back toward the dirt road, Max covering his back. It didn’t surprise him that Vaghn knew his business.

Mud and dirt spewed as Sebastian braked nearby. “My God. It worked?” He jumped out and sighted over the open door at the river.

“Not for long.” The boat moved swiftly upriver toward the bridge.

Quickly, Riley threw open the door, and with a hand on his head, pushed Vaghn into the back of the truck cab. Like a panicked toddler, Vaghn tried to go out the other side, but Max was already there, moving in and closing the door. Sebastian hit the gas.

“You won’t get away with this. Are you stupid? Wait, I forgot, you all are.”

“It’d be wise to shut your mouth about now,” Sebastian said.

“You shouldn’t have messed with me again.”

Riley unclipped the satchel, and Vaghn kicked out to keep it. With his arm across his throat, Riley pinned him. “Don’t make me wish I’d killed you the first time.”

“You don’t scare me, Donovan.”

He met his gaze. “I should.” He punched, once.

Vaghn didn’t make another sound, blood trickling out his nose.

“Did that feel as good as the last time?” Max said.

“Neither was enough. Head to the jet,” Riley said. “We leave this country now.” Damn cops. There were too many unknown factors going on. Who was helping Vaghn? The guys in the boat were muscle and using a familiar route. But it wasn’t their assignment to investigate further, just bring him in. Besides, Vaghn wouldn’t admit to anything. He never had, even under oath.

“You know we’re kissing off about ten grand in equipment?” Max said, poking through Vaghn’s gear. In the satchel was a laptop. The backpack contained a couple disposable phones, an MP3 player, a PSP, a couple games, clothes, booze, and a bottle of pills. The small handgun made Max snicker as he turned on the laptop.

“I’ll take the loss.” Vaghn slumped and Riley pushed him off. “That was too easy.”

“Tell that to my aching back,” Max said. He inserted a flash drive and with a few swift key strokes, downloaded the hard drive.

“They could have shot us and taken him, and the lack of cops says something.” He waved to the area. Still not a Singapore police vehicle in sight. From behind the driver’s seat, Riley scanned the streets, the cars. The men in the boats were more than prepared.

Max replaced the laptop in the case, then searched Vaghn, emptying his pockets.

Riley picked up a cell phone, then found another just like it. He turned one on and was scrolling the numbers when Sebastian said, “We have road warriors.”

He leaned to see. An all terrain vehicle popped out from under the trees.

“Strap in,” Sebastian said. “They’re out for blood.”

Seletar Airstrip

Safia backed her bike out of view in between some bushes as the car zipped past her position. She didn’t need to track him. The marker on his car was working just fine. But he didn’t seem happy and she needed to know why.

“Did you get that call?” she asked Ellie.

“Sorry, too short to triangulate. The plane, however, is heading toward Thailand. I’ll track.”

Well, it was clear that Red Shoes was more than just a pretty face in this. Safia’d recognized Barasa’s fury, and for an instant there, thought he’d smack Red Shoes. Till she saw the backup in black hidden under the jet’s stairs. Smart woman. Safia half expected the commandos to put two in Barasa if things didn’t go their way.

Red Shoes was the money, a shocker, decent firepower notwithstanding. She didn’t trust Barasa, wise move. Not being seen with him only slightly wiser. But then, that’s the game, bad versus bad, and the good guys have to fight harder. Safia swung her leg over the bike and started the engine, then flipped down her visor. The tracking beacon showed Barasa was headed toward his hotel. The call from the restaurant phone was from the other side of the island, but there had been too many crowded signals on cell towers to pinpoint the call’s exact location.

Out in the open now, she could put a laser sight on him.

Not that it was a consideration. Probably annoy the big cheese though. She didn’t want this guy in U.S. custody—yet. His usefulness was limited from behind bars. She’d learned the hard way that when criminals had a benefit, the Company exploited them. She agreed, let them dig their own graves, but her boss wasn’t in the field with a twenty-three-year old female Marine intelligence expert as her only link. Though Ellie wasn’t just her relay, but more like a little sister who completely ignored her good advice on men and pushed the fashion envelope. Yet they were both alone. Once they’d been tanked on Singapore Slings, and almost got arrested for hot-dogging a couple of borrowed jet skis down the channel. Her lips curved. That’s where her invisible friendships with the local police came in handy. The Company would have hated to bail them out of that one.

“Base to Raven.”

Okay, Raven was a new one. Ellie came up with the names and changed them often. Safia could always tell when she was upset. The names got a little raunchy. She could care less, though she thought “maggot breath” for their last subject was inventive.

“Gotcha.”

“He’s on the phone again and changing directions.”

She glanced at the GPS tracker on the dash screen and slowed to take a residential street. “Can you intercept the call, let me hear?”

“That wouldn’t be authorized.”

“Screw waiting for Langley. They’re not here right now.”

A sigh came through the microphone. Safia even heard the rustle of papers while Ellie wrestled with her conscience. Langley would approve or she’d threaten something. It’d worked before and Safia wasn’t above sticking some pins in people to get what she needed. If they wanted her to fight the good fights, she had to have access to intelligence and quickly.

“ I’m on him.” A pause and then, “ Damn, he’s got a scrambler.”

“Ohh, he’s a nasty boy.” Scramblers weren’t easy to come by, no matter who you bribed. But one the CIA couldn’t extract?

“Let’s hope it’s a phone sex line.”

Safia smiled to herself.

“The longer he chats, the more time to track ,” Ellie said. “ Why aren’t you moving?”

“I want to wait to see what direction he takes and alter my route.” She couldn’t risk exposing her cover by tailing too close.

“I’d reconsider that. He’s either going to have a suit made or he’s headed to the heliport.”

Safia keyed in a search for the nearest helipad from her position. Just about every high rise had one, four were on the same street. But Ellie was right, he was in the garment district. She started to ask for satellite imaging when Ellie said, “He’s speeding. Okay he’s turning. You need to move.”

“I’ll get there. You keep tabs because if he takes off for the far reaches, I’m sunk.”

She couldn’t outrun a chopper. Leaning over the handlebars, she turned back onto the Central Expressway and toward the garment district. She rode a wide berth. No telling which direction he’d fly, but she stayed in the open for the best opportunities to get close, fast. Impatient for him to move and give her something to chase, she hailed Ellie.

“SAT has him on the roof. Must have taken the express lift.”

That always punched her stomach to her knees. Safia slowed, pulling off the road to a petrol station. She refilled the tank, then stretched, her gaze on the small screen showing the chopper lift off a mile away.

“The north channel, ” Ellie said, then sounded confused. “Where’s he going? There’s no place to land beyond Seletar airport.”

“What have I told you about bad guys?”

“They ignore all the laws, all the time.”

She said it like a kid reciting dry poetry. “Think twisted and depraved.”

“That’s easy for you.”

Safia laughed as she merged onto the highway. This wouldn’t be so hard. The chopper was air traffic and well, less up there to trace. She angled around cars, squeezed the motorcycle places she shouldn’t, then saw the black chopper. It was still gaining altitude. Who’s got you jumping through hoops again, nasty boy?

“They’re doing a pattern sweep. Looking for something,” Base said. “Their central area is Sungei Kadut.”

“Inland?”

“Negative, the water side.”

It would be, she thought, and shot off the Seletar Expressway to Sungei Kadut, beneath several confusing overpasses, then past the new high rises. The chopper hovered over land, then paralleled the river. Drug trafficking, she wondered, aware the local police had problems with small time players using the river, yet when the chopper banked hard toward the Johor Bahru bridge, she shot north to get ahead of it. Six blocks and she lost it as the land dipped. It forced her to higher ground on the east side. Singapore, she thought, was sinking under its own weight. She was never going to identify Barasa’s target if she didn’t locate the man.

Safia stopped the bike near the bridge walking path. Pedestrians ignored her, marching across. She unlatched the bike’s pack and grabbed her monocular. She sighted on the cars and trucks filing toward Malaysia, then saw a Land Rover ATV, stripped down and crowding a truck. Light bounced off weapons. Damn.

“Be my eyes, Base, get that dark green truck.”

Her gaze darted from the chopper to the truck to the Land Rover. The chopper hovered over the west bridge traffic, scaring drivers. Most drove faster to get away from the chaos, and when the Rover shot ahead, Safia understood the tactic. Use the bridge to box them in and shoot. She parked the bike and ran to the ladder of bars maintenance workers used for repairs and climbed. She reached the top as the Rover spun sideways and stopped traffic. Cars skidded, veering to the sides, several impacted, but Barasa’s desperation was clear. He wanted what was in that truck.

And Safia couldn’t let him have it.

Sungei Kadut

Singapore

Riley and Max leaned over the backseat, gathering ammo. Vaghn slumped sideways, still out. The ATV chased parallel, joining them on the expressway to the bridge.

“Get off this road!”

“I can’t. Traffic’s too heavy!” Sebastian pointed and like a swarm, little cars darted around them, blocking exits.

The bridge was wide, a walkway on either side, lanes feeding traffic to Johbar, Malaysia and Singapore, but it was nearly rush hour. The cars weren’t the worst. Rickshaws and overloaded cyclists clogged the highway, some stacked with so many goods it’s a wonder they didn’t topple over. Hoping for a turn signal was useless. The ATV sped up alongside and Riley aimed out the window as Max flattened over Vaghn to join him. The ATV pulled away, speeding ahead, then clipping a car. The sloped, white two-door spun, smashing into another lane and the pile-up began.

Sebastian swerved left, finding a hole.

A helicopter rose from sea level, hovering over the water on the left.

“Jaasus. Look at the size of that thing!” It was rigged for rescue.

Max shook the prisoner awake. “Who’s after you?”

Vaghn blinked, looked around at the smoking cars and smiled. “I told you not to fuck with me.”

Riley shoved Vaghn’s head down and removed the handcuffs, securing his hands in front. Vaghn frowned and Riley said, “I want you alive.” To stand trial for treason .

Vaghn smirked. “You don’t have orders to shoot me, do yah?”

“That’s never stopped me before.” Riley cinched the cuffs tight. “And laddie, I’m volunteering for your firing squad.”

Vaghn paled and Riley pushed him to the floor. The chopper rose and backed away, then its side door slid back. Men in Singapore rescue uniforms confused him. A chopper wasn’t necessary and where the hell were the police?

“Sebastian, get us off this bridge. And where the hell is the ATV?”

“In front. He wants to play chicken.”

The ATV was crowding again and Riley searched for a way off the bridge, then spotted a dark figure crouched on the walkway, hidden behind the slatted rails. He recognized the long slim barrel a second too late and saw a muzzle flash an instant before the right front tire exploded.

At this speed, it was all over. Riley braced himself seconds before the truck flipped.

Safia hunched down as the truck fell on its side and kept skidding. Cars collided, smashing into the barriers and the truck slid a good forty feet before it stopped.

“Tell me that’s not what you intended!” Ellie shouted and Safia winced at the high pitch.

Not really, but …“Barasa wants them badly and that’s good enough reason to screw with his plans.” It wouldn’t stop him, but it might give her time to learn more. The chopper was being tracked by Singapore Air Force right now.

“But in the middle of rush hour?”

“Hey, I didn’t pick the place for this!” Enough people had seen the Rover and truck dogfight to get out of the way.

Barasa was in the helicopter, his suit jacket flapping in the wind as he shouted orders into a hand radio. But what scared her was the two men in Singapore emergency rescue uniforms hovering on the edge, ready to deploy on cables. Fakes, she thought. But who was in the truck that he’d risk this destruction and notice?

Safia aimed at a fake and fired. He flailed, and the body rolled out of the craft and fell, caught short on the cable. Two men leapt from the Rover and ran toward the truck. They didn’t bother to hide their weapons. She’d seen that murderous look before and put in a call to the Singapore Police Force to protect the locals.

The impact drove them into the ground, everything inside the truck slapped to the left, including Vaghn. The windows shattered with a pop, the sparks of metal to asphalt spraying like fireworks till it stopped sliding.

“Everyone okay?” Sebastian asked. “Sorry about that.”

“Yeah,” Max said. “What the hell did that?” He rubbed his shoulder, trying to get his footing.

“There’s a shooter on the bridge, right side!” Sebastian kicked out the front glass and climbed out, weapon first. Max was behind him. Vaghn crawled frantically through the back like an inchworm. Riley caught his leg, but he kicked violently, leaving his shoe behind and rolling onto the pavement. Drivers spilled out of cars to rubberneck, a few abandoning them and running.

“Later sucker, that’s my ride!”

“My dyin’ ass.”

Riley was right behind him as Vaghn ran toward the chopper, waving handcuffed arms. He reached for Vaghn’s shirt and grabbed hold as the chopper swept in low. But the ATV guys were shooting and machine-gun fire chewed the road toward him. He ducked for cover, losing his grip. Vaghn fell, slamming to the ground.

A young family was trapped in a compact car and he motioned them to stay down, then darted behind an empty car and bolted toward Vaghn. Intermittent gunfire pushed him back as Vaghn reached the side of the bridge. The chopper rose high, then dipped nose-down and swept in. A uniformed man hung out the door, reaching for their package. Shots hit around Riley as he aimed for Vaghn and fired. A bullet gouged his leg and Vaghn folded to the ground. Riley hauled ass, but a commando instantly dropped from the cable and grabbed the geek. Bloody hell, he couldn’t loose him! But bullets chunked the asphalt at his ankles, and he dove behind an abandoned car, then shouted to Max.

“The markers! Max! Get the markers!”

From the north end of the bridge, the ATV guys advanced, covering for the chopper. One man fired a stream and an elderly man with stacks of goods on a bike fell back as bullets went through the boxes and into him. Jesus. Riley checked his pulse, cursing Vaghn as Max crawled into their wrecked truck and came back with the biomarker pistol. On his back, he loaded the cartridges, came to his knees and hurled it. Riley caught the stubby gun before it hit the ground, then ran as the guy pulled Vaghn into the chopper.

You’re not getting away that easy, he thought and with smoke coiling around him, he aimed for precision and fired. It hit Vaghn in the rear, throwing him inside. Four successive shots flew past him and punctured the aircraft, liquid spewing before smoke snaked from the fuselage. Who’s the enemy here?

The chopper struggled in the air, then rose a thousand feet and flew out to sea.

Riley spun and saw a helmet disappear over the edge of the barrier. The ATV twins were only thirty yards away. Riley hurried to his buddies. Max was on the ground, his upper body in the truck wreckage. For a second he thought Mat was hit till he came back with two machine pistols and tossed one to Sebastian. Max was wearing Vaghn’s backpack.

Now the playing field was even. “Hey!” he shouted, his hands out. “Where’s mine?”

“Smashed, and you’re armed,” Max said, using the truck for cover and shouting for people to get off the bridge.

Sebastian fired a single shot at a time at the ATV guy’s feet. It didn’t stop them and they fired back. “We need to question them!” Riley rushed to cover them, but Sebastian waved him off. “Get that shooter!”

Riley didn’t hesitate and ran, then vaulted onto the walkway. He leaned out to see the land below. No sign of the shooter. Damn. He swung over the edge and rappelled down the cables and joints. He dropped to the ground, then pushed his hydrogel kneecaps to perform.

Jason Vaghn grappled to get inside the chopper and hands pulled at him, thank God. Gray-black wind swirled through the interior, the odor of burning oil pungent as someone shoved him against the bulkhead. Pain shot up his leg, blossomed to his ass, and he inhaled through clenched teeth. Goddamn Donovan, he thought, and finally opened his eyes. A man in a jumpsuit uniform knelt, tore his pant leg to his thigh and probed his wound. He said something Jason thought was Malaysian as he wrapped his leg in a field bandage. Jason pushed him away and finished it himself.

Three men were in rescue uniforms, one of them dead and lying near the door, the trail of blood spread wide. There was a rack of rifles anchored to the back with gear he recognized for thermal tracking. A dark skinned man handed him a set of headphones and he worked them on, his wrists still cuffed.

Jason looked up at the guy in a suit, for crissakes, and said, “Just who the hell are you people?” They weren’t what he’d been warned to expect.

The man didn’t say anything, as he leaned to pull a latch. It released the cable on the dead man, and as smoke sucked inside the tottering craft, he shoved the body. It rolled over the edge and dropped to the sea. The other men did no more than salute the air and close the door. And Jason realized he’d gone from one fire, right into another.