Читать книгу The Finish Line - Cliff Ryder - Страница 10

David slowed as he approached the edge of the building, his enhanced hearing picking up both the noises of his quarry and their conversation as they ran.

“What the hell was that? We’re lucky we only lost three guys to whoever those guys were, and then you go and pull a goddamn stupid stunt like that? It’s bad enough I have to report this to HQ, and I’m seriously considering bringing you up on insubordination charges once we get back—”

“Jesus, would you put a sock in it, you sound like my grandmother. They were just as surprised as we were. They got lucky is all. Besides, they had some nuts going head-to-head with us. And as for our deaders, well, I never liked them all that much anyway. Besides, we got the job done—”

“Not all of it, jackass. In case you’d forgotten, she’s still alive, which makes this even worse—”

They missed someone? David crouched at the roof’s edge and listened as the two arguing men clattered down the stairs of the fire escape and hit the alley. A soft beeping indicated that his superior was trying to contact him, but David ignored the insistent tone, trying to hear more. As soon as they were on the street, he swung over the side and followed them, his HK USP Tactical .45-caliber pistol out. He stepped carefully to minimize any noise.

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll find her. That little bitch is crappin’ her pants and on the run. We’ll take her down in no time.”

“Says the guy who can barely keep his own e-mail account open. Don’t forget, she’s a hacker, and a damn good one, if she and her brother really got what we wanted. That fuckin’ prick, trying to jack up the price on us—you should have seen the look on his face just before I double-tapped him. It was almost worth all this trouble….” The first man’s voice trailed off.

David was coming down the first-floor steps when he heard an engine turn over. Looking down the narrow, grimy alleyway, he saw the headlights of a boxy SUV flare to life.

Leveling his pistol, David stepped to the end of the first-floor fire-escape landing and aimed at the driver’s side of the windshield. The Range Rover sped forward just as he fired three shots. A trio of pockmarks appeared in the glass, but it didn’t break as he had expected. Instead the SUV zoomed forward to pass below him.

Shoving his pistol into its holster, David grabbed the railing with both hands and vaulted over the side, tucking his feet under him to break his fall when he landed on the moving vehicle. He had practiced the maneuver during his Midnight Team training dozens of times, and pulled it off flawlessly, landing on the metal roof with a thud. As soon as he hit, he dropped to his knees. The built-in pads on his armor easily absorbed the impact as he grabbed on to the sides of the vehicle. The roof was more solid than he had expected, and he realized that it was armored, as well. If they can’t shoot me, then they’ll have to come out and get me.

The Range Rover picked up speed as it shot out of the alley, swerving in a hard right turn onto Wyvil Road—away from the rest of David’s team. He opened a channel to his leader. “M-One, this is M-Two. I’m tracking the hostiles, who are heading west on Wyvil—” David braced himself as the SUV ran over the curb and shot onto a larger avenue, heading north. “Make that north on Wandsworth Road.”

“So nice of you to report in, M-Two. I’ve got you on our tracker—are you on the roof of the target vehicle?” M-One asked angrily.

“Affirmative—” David broke off as a man popped up from the passenger-side window, aiming a silenced pistol at him. Without time to draw his own weapon, he lunged toward the man and grabbed the gun just as it went off. The bullet disappeared into the night air. Holding the weapon away from him with one hand, David tried to maintain a grip on the roof with his other, but couldn’t do both at the same time. The pistol slowly inched back down toward his head, the other man using his superior leverage with both hands to force it against his helmet. David let go of the roof and grabbed the man’s other arm, but his opponent twisted out over the street, pulling David’s upper body off the roof. Feeling himself slipping further, David lashed out with his left arm, grabbing the shooter’s shoulder and pulling him down with him as he slid precariously close to the road.

“Whoa!” The man leaned back as David’s weight forced him half out of the window. Dropping his pistol, he grabbed the door frame with one hand while trying to remove David’s hand with the other. The driver yelled something, but David couldn’t make it out. He tried to grab the window frame, as well, but the other man knocked his hand away, then clamped on to his fingers and pried them from his own black-suited shoulder. David tried to hold on, but felt each digit being loosened one at a time. He flailed frantically with his other hand, stealing a glance at the rough London pavement flashing by below, and not wanting to get any closer than he already was.

Before he could regain his grip on the other man, David’s hand was torn away, and he flew from the Range Rover as it took another right turn. He landed on the street with a breath-stealing impact, rolling, bouncing and skidding to a halt at the side of the road. He had just begun to clear the stars from his eyes and get some air back into his lungs when a tire screeched to a stop only inches from his head. He heard doors popping open above him, and then strong hands were under his arms, hoisting him to his feet.

“Let’s go, tough guy, you already fucked up the op enough, don’t you think?” David caught M-Four’s mocking words as he was unceremoniously stuffed into the back corner of the van, right next to the dead body they’d hauled back. Everyone else was in position. M-One was in the driver’s seat, and hadn’t even taken his eyes off the road as they’d collected David. But as David examined his battered body, he met the team leader’s eyes in the rearview mirror, and got a very clear message—we’ll discuss this later. Beside M-One, looking back with a concerned expression on her face, was Tara. M-Four, the loudmouth, had removed his MASC to reveal a lean, fox-faced man with a shock of ginger hair and a smattering of freckles.

Their final member, M-Five, rose from his position at the communication console to tend to David. “M-Four, take over here,” he said.

The other man did so with a contemptuous snort. “Sure, make sure the hard charger hasn’t hurt himself any more.”

“M-Four, that’s enough.” M-One’s voice was as calm as if he was ordering dinner, but it commanded immediate respect from the rest. “Monitor the police channels. It’s bad enough we’re exposed like this, but we might as well follow through now. Coming up on South Lambeth Road. M-Three, watch for cross traffic, particularly cops.”

The windshield was blocked out by the dark face of M-Five bending over him. “Saw you take that flyer off the SUV. Ballsiest move I’ve seen in a long time, but none too bright.” The tall South African undid the clasps on David’s body armor as he spoke. “Take your gear off and let’s get a look at you.”

The van swayed as M-Five worked, and everyone heard the blast of car horns outside. “Too close,” M-One commented. “Now heading east on Fentiman Road. They’ll either try to lose us in the neighborhood streets, or else take their chances on Clapham—”

“Watch your left!” Tara pointed, and the van jogged to the right just in time to avoid a truck that filled the windshield, passing close enough to knock the flexible side mirror out of alignment.

“Thanks. Passing Meadow Road. They’re heading to Clapham for sure.”

M-Five ran his hands along David’s ribs, pressing gently and listening for any exclamation of pain or indrawn breath. Although his joints ached from the drubbing they’d taken during his roll on the street, David said he felt fine overall. “That Dragon Skin is some tough stuff.”

“Yeah, and the MASC did its job, as well.” M-Five shone a light into each of David’s eyes. “I don’t see any immediate signs of a concussion, but I’m gonna keep you under watch for the next twenty-four hours,” he said.

M-Four spoke up from the console, shoving earphones off his head. “The bobbies are cordoning off Wyvil Road at both ends, and expanding their net to include the surrounding blocks. Due to reports of explosions in the house, a bomb squad is being called in. Looks like we got out just in time.”

“Good. The more time they spend there, the less time they have to look for us.” M-One glanced both ways as they sped toward a busy intersection. “We’re coming up to Clapham, folks, so hang on—this next bit’s liable to get bumpy.”

David had shrugged off the team medic’s attentions and sat up just in time to see them roar into the intersection. Still hard on the SUV’s tail, the van shot out into the main thoroughfare, forcing cars to screech to a stop on both sides of them and attracting much more attention than anyone inside was comfortable with.

“Damn it, we’ve got company,” Tara said.

David looked out the one-way rear window to see a motorcycle officer hit his lights and siren and give chase.

“Can’t be helped now. If we’re blocked for any reason, you all know what to do,” M-One said.

Since Midnight Teams were brought in only as a final resort for specific missions, they weren’t supposed to attract attention in any way, even in what would nominally be a friendly country. If they were stranded, their orders were to escape and evade capture by any means necessary, up to and including deadly force. David grimaced as he realized what this chase meant—the longer it went on, the higher the risk of their being caught, and that simply couldn’t happen. And if I hadn’t gone racing into it, we might have kept this more low profile—the way we’re supposed to operate, he admonished himself.

“Looks like we’ve got them.” M-One alternated between keeping an eye on the SUV and watching the motorcycle officer slowly gain behind them. “The traffic on Clapham is slower than usual—must be something blocking the road ahead.”

The van slowed just enough to keep ahead of the patrolman. M-Four looked up from the radio console, headphones half on his head. “If we don’t do something soon, he’s gonna call in reinforcements, assuming he hasn’t already.”

The van’s speed decreased further. “As long as it’s not the Specialist Crime Directorate, we should be all right. If the SCD shows up, we disappear. Almost there…brace yourselves!” M-One slammed on the van’s brakes, making it skid to a stop. The pursuing motorcyclist, caught off guard, was unable to stop in time and slammed into the van’s rear door hard enough to send the rider sailing over the handlebars and thump into the door himself. He fell to the street, his bike toppling on top of him.

“Damn, that had to hurt.” David turned his attention forward again, where M-One was issuing orders. Ahead, he saw a large truck that had apparently jackknifed in the road, blocking both lanes of traffic on their side, and slowing the cars and motorbikes going in the opposite direction. Although yellow-vested officers were directing traffic, it seemed that they hadn’t been told about or noticed the slow-speed chase was approaching them.

“All right, we’re coming to a stop. On my command, Team Two will exit the side door and approach the SUV, pistols out but covered. Try to take them alive if possible, but defend yourselves and the civilians. Okay, here we go—”

With a screech of rubber, the SUV suddenly lurched out of its lane, wheels spinning for purchase as it rose onto the sidewalk, clipping a light post and scattering sparse passersby in all directions.

“Son of a bitch!” M-One shouted.

The Range Rover barreled completely off the road and into Kennington Park, tearing up grass and dirt. M-One followed, edging onto the sidewalk and into the park, ignoring the whistle blasts of the London bobbies, who had definitely noticed this unusual activity.

With a wide-open space, the SUV opened up and accelerated away from the van, but M-One tried to stay with it as much as possible. A man leaned out of the SUV passenger’s window again and pointed a submachine gun at the pursuing van. M-One jinked the steering wheel back and forth, trying to break up their silhouette to present less of a target. Short bursts sprayed from the submachine gun, the slugs pinging against the van’s bullet-resistant glass and shattering one headlight.

“Everyone hold on!” M-One floored the accelerator, and the van sped forward, close enough to almost tap the bumper of the Range Rover. Suddenly the SUV swerved to the right and decelerated, causing the van to pull alongside. The driver slammed his vehicle into the van, making the higher-center-of-gravity vehicle slew to the side, with everyone aboard swaying and grabbing at the sides to keep their seats.

“Damn it, we’re in a clear area—can’t we take them out?” M-Four asked.

“In case you hadn’t noticed, that’s exactly what I’ve been trying to do, but they got the idea first.” M-One had wrestled the van back under control, narrowly avoiding a tree as they raced through the darkened park. Fortunately there was hardly anyone out at this time of night, just a few couples who gave the fast-moving vehicles a wide berth.

“If you’re gonna do something, now’s the time, before they get back on the roads!” David said.

“I’m open to suggestions.” M-One grunted as he tried to catch up with their target again. “We’re not fast enough to catch them, and trying to spin them only resulted in our nose getting slapped.”

David shook his head. “Can’t shoot them down, either. That windshield shrugged off my .45s like nothing. Tires are probably run-flat, too.”

“We’re running out of space and time, people.” M-One swerved to avoid another of the many trees dotting the park, his night vision glowing green in the darkness. The small dot of light reflecting off the windshield gave David an idea.

“Are they running lights out, too?”

“Yeah.” Tara glanced back. “What’re you thinking?”

David grabbed a minigrenade, matched it with a barrel adapter and inserted it into the muzzle of his gun. “If we can’t bull them over with brute force, we can dazzle them with brilliance.” Staying on his knees, he moved to the van’s sliding side door. “Stabilize me.”

M-Five’s eyes widened in recognition as he grasped what David was up to, and he grabbed his teammate’s web harness to secure him.

“Open the door, M-One.”

The night air rushed in as the side door slowly rolled back. “You’re clear ahead, but you’ve only got a hundred meters—don’t hit anything but the ground,” M-One said.

“Affirmative.” David reset the grenade’s fuse and eyeballed the range between the two rocking, swaying vehicles as best as he could. The fence delineating the outer perimeter of the park rushed at them. “Fire in the hole!” Squeezing the trigger, he watched the explosive arc over the SUV and disappear into the darkness. It came down almost where he wanted—a few yards in front of the speeding Range Rover. At the last second, David shielded his eyes and turned away.

Even so, he caught the flash of the detonating flare grenade, its burst of brilliant phosphorus lighting up the open area like a miniwhite sun. David stared at the ground near the SUV, hearing its engine whine and feeling dirt spatter on his arms and chest as their quarry spun out of control, crossing in front of the Midnight Team’s van. With a loud crash, they caromed off a large tree and into a small wood-sided building that looked as if it might hold groundskeeping equipment. The SUV broke through the front wall in a splintering crash of wood and glass, coming to a halt wedged firmly in the middle of the structure.

M-One braked the van to a stop about twenty yards away. “Team One, take the right. Team Two go left.” He grabbed his XM110 and slid out the driver’s-side window. “I’ll cover. Move out—you’ve got twenty seconds to apprehend them.”

The four other Midnight Team members hit the ground running, submachine guns out and ready. David and Tara used the century-old trees as cover, leapfrogging toward their objective. There was no movement or sound from the ruined building.

When they were about five yards away, David hailed the other team. “Team One in position.”

“Team Two in position.”

“M-One in position. Execute.”

David and Tara rose as one and took a step toward the SUV when it burst into flames, spraying the remains of its shattered windows everywhere. David immediately ducked back down as the shock wave of the explosion washed over him.

“You got anything on scope?” he asked Tara, who was scanning the surrounding area with her MASC.

“Negative.”

“How about you, Team Two?”

“If they got by us, they were freakin’ invisible,” M-Four replied.

“All teams, fall back to the van.” David heard the two-tone scream of the approaching British police sirens. “We’re leaving,” M-One ordered.

Still alert in case their opponents were crazy enough to double back, David and Tara skirted the trees as they headed to the van. Jumping aboard, M-One closed the doors and drove out the back way, turning left onto the road that bordered the north side of the park and driving away casually as the rest of the team members removed their armor and changed into civilian clothes.

Driving until they well away from the park, M-One pulled into the parking lot of a car-washing facility and looked around. “M-Four, open that garage door.”

David ignored the dark stare as M-Four, a guy named Robert Muldowney, shoved past him on his way out. Instead, he worked his way up to the space between the two front seats. “Sir?”

“Yes?” M-One’s eyes never left the nearby road.

“The other team, they hadn’t finished their job when they left.”

That remark earned him a raised eyebrow. “Explain.”

“When I followed them—” Against orders, David thought but didn’t say “—I overheard them talking about a woman, and how she had escaped the ambush. One of the men said something about if she got what they wanted. She was some kind of computer hacker—”

The rattle of metal against metal interrupted him as M-Four pushed the garage door up, revealing a large interior with hoses and other cleaning equipment. M-One drove inside. “Soap it down and get every scrap of paint off,” he ordered.

David scrambled outside and grabbed a wand as M-Four turned the washing system on. As soon as the soapy water hit the van’s dark gray paint, it began to flake and slough off in large sheets, dissolving into a sludgy mess that dribbled toward the drain. Underneath was a pristine white coat. Inside, M-One hit a button, and the license plate rotated to a completely new number.

David smiled, humming the James Bond theme under his breath. Sometimes the old ways are still the best ways, he thought. He examined the fender damage caused by the SUV’s graze, making sure that no paint traces from the other vehicle had been left over in the wash. Five minutes later, they had completely transformed the van. He also knew they wouldn’t show up on any street cameras, since M-One had activated a scrambler that would knock out any recording devices in a one-block radius. Anyone using a digital camera at the time was out of luck.

Their leader pulled the van back out, and David and M-Four cleaned up, making sure that all of the paint was washed down the drain, and leaving the tools exactly where they had found them. M-Four closed and locked the door.

Tara beat David back to the side door. “M-One wants to see you up front.”

“Yeah, time to face the music. Sorry to make you lose your seat.”

“Don’t worry about it.” She held up a funny-looking piece of foam with what looked like a black piece of plastic inside. “I need to play with this at the console anyway. Recovered it from outside the house—figured the other team put it there for surveillance.”

“Nice going, rook—ah, M-Three.” David flushed, all too aware that he hadn’t been nearly as proficient in executing the mission as their newest teammate. He clapped her on the shoulder and headed up to the front of the van.

“Now that we’re undercover again—” M-One’s gray eyes flashed at David, letting the other man know he was still accountable for the breach of orders earlier “tell me everything you heard—every single word.”