Читать книгу Black Widow - Cliff Ryder - Страница 17

London

“She did not just do that,” tech support said in Samantha’s ear.

Samantha couldn’t believe the woman survived the collision with all the munitions in the back of the truck.

“That is one gutsy bird,” the head computer programmer said as he stared at the screen with a big grin. “I think I’m in love.”

They all stared at the screen as the truck and Ajza disappeared into the ocean.

“My God,” Samantha breathed.

“What?” Kate asked.

Knowing Kate lacked visual access while she left the apartment in New York, Samantha ignored the request for information for the moment.

“Later,” she said. “Red Team?”

“We’re here, Indigo.”

“Are you mobile?”

“Since the convoy started up.”

That was good, Samantha told herself. She looked at the lead computer operator. He nodded and tapped on a keyboard.

Almost immediately the satellite view split on the wall screen. One side stayed with the white-capped wake that remained from the truck’s plunge into the sea. The other shifted to a street scene. A yellow spotlight circled an SUV.

“Hold your position,” Samantha said.

“Did she make it?” the Red Team Leader asked.

“So far. Are you prepared for an exfiltration?”

“Affirmative. Red Team is ready to rock and roll. Especially for that hard-driving lady.”

Yanks, Samantha thought. All of them had showoff tendencies.

“If she survived, I’d like to try to get her home in one piece,” she said.

On the wall screen, she saw Mustafa’s men bring their vehicles to a halt. The police car slid in behind them, then realized their mistake when Mustafa’s gunners opened fire on them. The driver of the police car reversed and hastily backed away.

“The harbor roads stretch in two directions,” Samantha told the Red Team leader. “Once I see which direction she’s going to choose, I’ll let you know. We’ll coordinate the rendezvous from here.” Out of habit, she checked the time. Their window of opportunity was closing quickly.

“We can get out fast,” the lead computer tech said.

Samantha nodded and quickly brought Kate up to speed. “I’ve asked Red Team to try to pull her out of there.”

“I heard,” Kate replied. “I would have done the same thing.”

Samantha felt a little better about that. Room 59’s policies emphasized maintaining a low profile. At this point they hadn’t been exposed, but her decision would press that possibility.

But letting the brave young woman die needlessly put her off.

Come on, she thought, staring at the water as Mustafa’s men spread out along the pier and searched.

“How deep is the harbor?” Samantha asked.

“At this time of year in that location, twenty-seven feet,” tech support said.

More than enough depth to sink a truck, Samantha decided. She admired the young agent’s strategy. The chance of recovering some of the weapons intact remained, but not without getting caught by the local police.

The water remained relatively smooth. No one surfaced.

Come on, Samantha urged.

“I have her,” one of the female computer techs announced.

“Where?” Samantha shifted her gaze to the screen.

“That’s my girl,” the male computer operator said enthusiastically. “I really gotta give her props. You don’t meet many like her.”

“Don’t wee all over yourself in your excitement,” the other female said sarcastically.

“She’s here,” the first woman said.

On the screen, Samantha spotted Ajza Manaev hauling herself from the water. Unfortunately Mustafa’s men did, too. Ajza threw herself to the ground as bullets chopped into the ground only a few feet from her. Immediately Mustafa’s men took up pursuit, some of them on foot and others taking time to get back into the cars.

“Red leader,” Samantha said.

“Here,” the man replied.

“I’ve found her. So has the competition.”

“That’ll just make it more interesting.”

Samantha smiled slightly. She knew British soldiers who spoke just as cheekily, as if they were invincible. But there was something about that Yank accent that just sounded so certain.

“We’ll bring you to her,” he said.

Istanbul

BENT OVER and staying low to the ground, her fingertips grazing the hot pavement, Ajza ran. Bullets cut the air overhead and smashed into a vendor’s cart next to her. Spicy beef kebabs flew into the air and splattered to the ground. The young vendor screamed and ran for cover.

Ajza glanced over her shoulder. Mustafa’s gunmen—all of whom she knew by name—seemed split between chasing her on foot and climbing into cars. In her present shape, hurting and winded, eluding even the ones on foot might prove impossible.

She dashed through an opening in a chain-link fence and ran across the hot tarmac. She stayed behind vehicles and heavy equipment.

“Get down! Get down!” she ordered the dockworkers. When they didn’t move fast enough, she hauled her pistol from her waistband and waved it around. She waited to fire, not knowing if the water had completely cleared the barrel.

The dockworkers moved quickly, but they ran for their lives when bullets ripped through the chain-link fence and ricocheted off the cars and heavy equipment.

Only a short distance ahead of her, a young man straddled a motorcycle. Ajza ran toward him, rammed him in the back with an elbow and knocked him off the bike. She caught the motorcycle before it fell over—she didn’t know if she had the strength to right it if it went down. She shoved her pistol back into the waistband holster.

Hurrying, trying to remain calm, she threw a leg over the motorcycle, slammed the gearshift into low, twisted the throttle and let out the clutch. The rear tire grabbed traction at once and she shot forward. Bullets chased her, peppering vehicles and the road.

One of Mustafa’s cars braked ahead of her. Men spilled from the car and drew their weapons, taking aim at once.

Out of options, Ajza steered across the road, double-clutched and downshifted, then powered the motorcycle’s front tire into the air. She hit the road’s edge and went airborne.

Panic churned through her as she felt the heavy motorcycle fighting the jump. The ground came up faster than she anticipated. When she landed, she struggled for control and barely managed to keep the motorcycle upright as the rear tire churned through the loose earth. She threw her body violently to the side and managed to stay on.

Her knee, dropped far outside to aid in balance, struck the ground, the material of her pants ripping. The exposed flesh burned hotly. She didn’t know how badly she was hurt because the impact, after an initial burst of pain, made her knee go numb.

The drop hid her from the view of the gunners. For a moment she thought she’d lost them. Then she heard the racing engine paralleling her route and knew they hadn’t given up.

The soft ground of the slope Ajza drove over proved treacherous as loose soil tore free under the motorcycle’s tires. She nearly lost control twice and knew that the bike was too heavy for the off-road conditions. Desperate, she angled upward, hoping to somehow get by her pursuers.

A low-slung sedan roared out of nowhere and slammed into the car pursuing her. The collision forced the car off the road and it briefly sailed through the air over the embankment. A moment later the car landed in the trees and rolled. A man’s broken body tumbled from one of the windows.

Ajza hoped it wasn’t Nazmi just before thoughts of survival consumed her again. She steered up the embankment, standing on the pegs as the motorcycle bucked and heaved beneath her.

The car that had smashed Mustafa’s pursuit vehicle jerked into motion just as she passed it. Armed men sat inside, but none of them seemed interested in her.

A third party? Ajza couldn’t imagine anyone who would want to take part in the confrontation going on. Everything that existed to fight over was lying at the bottom of the harbor.

It might have been the MI-6 backup team she’d waited on.

They hadn’t identified themselves, though, and she couldn’t take that chance. She accelerated and raced through the motorcycle’s gears again. No one stayed with her this time. But she still didn’t feel safe.