Brothers In Arms (Matt Drake 5) Page 18

  A terrible hiss signaled that the weapon had discharged early. The missile impacted against the road near Dahl’s passenger-side wheel and skipped away, exploding against a barrier that ran along the verge. From above Drake came the sound of rapid gunfire. Bullets rattled against the truck, taking out one of the men in the back. The police chopper dove in low, passing right over Drake’s windshield, so close he could almost have stood up in his seat and grabbed one if its skids through his window. The helicopter veered slowly in mid-air as its occupants continued firing. Dahl’s Humvee squealed out of the way, itself strafed by errant gunfire.

  The truck started a crazy swerve, a slow motion snaking of machinery so heavy its rear seemed to take forever to catch up to its front end. The cab flew into the right-hand lane, the trailer sliced across the other two. The chopper cut sharply left, chasing the wide-open back doors.

  A sizzling explosion and a smoke trail burst from the back of the truck. The chopper shuddered as the rocket blasted against its side, veering wildly and losing altitude fast. One of the cops inside fell through the open door, only to save himself by grabbing a skid on his way down.

  Alicia held her breath.

  The chopper came down fast, the pilot trying desperately to keep it under control as fire licked its tail boom and rotor. The main rotor struggled to carry the damaged chopper, its tail fins hitting the interstate first and crumbling under the impact.

  The body of the chopper came down hard. Men leapt out any way they could. The cop who was hugging the landing skid hauled himself around and began a slow, lumbering run toward the median. As Alicia watched in the rear-view mirror, the following convoy of cop cars had reached their brethren and was stopping to tend to them. Three big vehicles powered on through.

  The eighteen-wheeler slewed back into the middle lane, its occupants flung to the sides, somehow managing to stay inside the rear container by grabbing at the many ropes and ratchet straps that whipped and thrashed around. Drake gave a tight smile when he saw the RPG launcher clatter onto the road and bounce away.

  They all passed a civilian vehicle on the inside, the lone businessman staring in astonishment. Drake started to thank their lucky stars Kingston and his cronies had set out so early, keeping civilian road traffic to a minimum, then realized it would’ve been even better if he’d been planning to set off about thirty minutes later. They’d have caught up to him back at his house. He’d assaulted enough houses, ranches and compounds in the last few months to rate his chances pretty highly.

  Hayden was shouting across the airwaves, something about civilians being their priority, a point so obvious even Alicia rolled her eyes.

  Then men stood up in the bed of the F150 and began lobbing hand grenades down the highway.

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  Mai turned to Smyth.

  “Well, it’s been fun, my friend, but I think it’s time to leave.”

  The marine raised an eyebrow at her. He knew enough about the Japanese agent now to take her at her word. “What’s the plan?”

  Mai studied the way her hands were tied for a minute, then started to slowly lift her legs until her ankles touched her ears. Her wrists took the weight, her body contorted back on itself.

  Smyth whispered, “Jesus Christ.”

  Mai selected a sharp blade that had been hidden inside her boot. “Shut it and watch them.”

  “They just noticed. Be quick.”

  “One of the advantages of being a bit of a legend in the lethal department,” Mai said as she slit her bonds, “is that no one normally has the balls to pat you down.”

  “Hurry.”

  Mai dropped to the ground, massaging her wrists and palming the knife. One of the guards was opening the door, another half dozen poised to file in behind him. Mai spread-eagled herself across Smyth’s body, nose to nose as she chopped his bonds away. “You ready for this?”

  “Just lead the way. I’ll follow.”

  Mai coiled her body and spun hard, flinging herself across the floor as the first of the guards piled in. She crashed into his legs and the legs of the men behind him, scattering them like skittles. Guns and radios flew randomly, creating chaos. Men hit the floor with their collarbones, their faces and the backs of their heads. Mai wrestled among them, lethal with both knife and fingers, and not a man moved in her wake. Smyth took a running jump and leaped over the top of her, slamming straight into more guards as they breached the doorway. The marine flew into the corridor, rolling, unable to stop himself from hitting the back wall but clever enough to hit it right. With a second’s pause, he reached down and claimed the nearest rifle. A bullet smashed into the wall right next to his head. He swung the barrel around, firing indiscriminately. North Korean guards were flung back by the impact, through the open door into their cell, and against the heavy windows.

  “Stop.”

  Mai’s command made Smyth rip his finger off the trigger. Then she stood there, not a hair out of place, but with a slight smile playing across her lips.

  “Now we take this island.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  Dahl growled in anger as he slammed his foot to the floorboards once more. No one alive had ever fired an RPG at him and got away with it. He wasn’t about to let that change now.

  Komodo, the seasoned ex-Delta soldier, swallowed hard. “Um, Dahl…”

  The Humvee powered up to the very back of the big Mack truck, inches from touching it. Without a word, the big Swede opened his window and angled his body so he could slip out of the opening. Then he let go of the wheel and drew his gun.

  Komodo yelped and threw himself behind the wheel. With inches to spare, the two huge vehicles sped along the interstate. Those left standing in the back of the eighteen-wheeler fired at the Humvee, seeing their bullets bounce off the windshield. Dahl leaned out the window and pumped half a dozen shots into the opening. A man pirouetted, spraying blood, slammed into the side of the truck and then slipped off the back end. His body bounced along the concrete and across the median at speed, instant roadkill.

  “That’s one.” Dahl spoke into his throat mike and used the distraction to gracefully rotate his body until he was sitting out the window, arms rested carefully on the roof, sighting his rifle. Only his legs remained in the car. Komodo used every ounce of concentration and skill to stay on the truck’s rear end. Dahl squeezed his trigger, taking out another enemy. A return bullet grazed the roof near the Swede’s head.

  Dahl had had enough. Gyrating quickly, he squeezed fully out of the Humvee, balanced on the edge of the window for half a second and then slithered down the windshield, landing on the hard metal hood. Wind buffeted his face and plucked at his clothes with enthusiastic fingers. The man who had fired the RPG at him raised another weapon.

  Bad move, arsehole.

  Dahl ran and jumped, one arm aiming his rifle, the other reaching for a thick rope that flapped gently around the back of the truck. As his hand closed around the rope, he fired his gun, taking the RPG firer’s head off at close range. The rope flexed as it took his weight, rolling him out of the truck and around the side.

  Dahl bounced off the outside of the eighteen-wheeler, gun aimed high, hanging on with grim determination.

  Komodo let out a harsh expletive as his mouth dropped open.

  Drake shook his head. “Now he’s showing off.” Alicia whooped with excitement. “C’mon, Drake! Get us into the action! The mad Swede’s having all the fun.”

  Dahl’s momentum sent him swinging right back through the open doors. Instantly, he let go. Bullets flew past him, fired in haste by the two remaining occupants. Dahl rolled as he hit the metal deck and came up on one knee, firing two head shots.

  Both adversaries fell dead.

  “Four.” Came over the comms system.

  Dahl wasn’t finished yet. Buckling into a pair of ratchet straps, he shot out the lock of a forward door and again stepped out into the blasting wind. For a moment, he hung from the vehicle as he hooked a strap over a rail th
at ran the length of the truck and then began to traverse sideways toward the cab, one step at a time.

  Komodo brought the Humvee around, now seeing the F150 running in front of the truck—thankfully out of grenades but still with men balancing in the open bed of the vehicle. Beyond that, three SUVs, the limo and the Viper sped, snaking through the sparse traffic.

  Komodo gunned the engine as he spied guns being leveled at Dahl from the back of the Ford. As the first man fired, Komodo’s heart leapt into his throat, but the Humvee gave an instant response and surged forward straight into the bullet’s path. As more men opened fire, Komodo kept the big armored vehicle steady, giving the F150 men no human target.

  Dahl crab walked along the side of the fast-moving eighteen-wheeler. When he reached the cab, he fired through the window. Glass exploded, but the passenger was ready for him. The man flung the door wide, leaning out with a machine pistol cocked and ready. Dahl froze. But the driver of the truck hadn’t reckoned for the sudden explosion of glass. The shock made him jerk the wheel, the Mack swerved violently, and the passenger lost his balance, tumbling right out of the door and crashing to the concrete road below.

  Even Dahl winced as the truck bounced over him.

  The Swede grabbed the swinging door, unhooked his strap and brought all his considerable strength to bear as he leaped into the cab. The truck driver just stared at him—this mad Swede with fiery eyes and a face set as hard as obsidian—and licked dry lips.

  “I give up, man. Whatever you want. Just don’t kill me.”

  Dahl nodded at the wheel. “Stop the bloody truck.”

  The driver practically stood up on the brakes and Dahl smashed into the windshield. The truck jackknifed, back end swinging around at high speed. Komodo hit the gas even harder, urging the Humvee to outrun the approaching mass of metal, at first losing the race but then, inch by inch, gaining enough ground to stay marginally ahead of certain death.

  Dahl waited until the truck began to coast, slowing down. He saw Drake’s and Hayden’s armored cars and the three fast cop cars flash by.

  “Bollocks.”

  The driver gawped at him. Dahl motioned him out of the truck as the standard black-and-whites caught up. “Half a dozen small container crates in the back,” he told one of the cops as he climbed down, shaking the road dust and grit from his clothes. “Probably full of advanced weapons so, whatever you bloody do, don’t look inside.”

  The cop stared.

  “Ever hear the saying ‘if I tell you, I’ll have to kill you?’ Same principal applies here.” He shrugged in explanation.

  Then his eyes lit on something magnificent. “Oh, would you look at that.”

  And he walked off, hearing the cop mutter something about “English ass” at his back, eyes full of the gorgeous light blue Shelby GT500 Mustang that stood idling near the median of the highway. It seemed luck and good fortune was on his side today.

  The Shelby’s driver stared at him with frightened eyes.

  Dahl gave him a feral grin. “Step aside.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  Lauren Fox slipped off her old sweater and settled into the plush armchair. She watched admiringly as Karin quickly manipulated a host of shaky images and transferred the best ones to the main screen. From there, Jonathan Gates, Karin and Lauren watched the road battle on live T.V.

  Gates used the Blake girl’s cleverness to assist with his decisions. It was Gates who had originally pulled the mass of cop cars back. Gates who had recalled the choppers, ordering them to follow at distance. Gates who now told Karin to scroll ahead using the American government’s own version of Google maps to determine Kingston’s destination.

  “Got it,” Karin said. “Palicki airfield. Ten miles ahead. I’ll put them on alert.”

  “Now that’s bad news.” Gates breathed over her shoulder. “It means they’re on their own. We can’t get any backup there in time.”

  “Maybe you can’t,” Lauren said. “But you have time to scramble some of those F-35’s to make sure the asshole doesn’t get away.”

  Gates looked approvingly at her. “I knew you would become a valuable asset, Miss Fox.”

  Lauren narrowed her eyes. What was the old guy spouting? She hoped to high hell that he wasn’t angling for some kind of secret rendezvous or a big discount. She’d seen it before. The more powerful and rich these guys got, the more they wanted everything for free.

  Yeah, even that.

  But Gates didn’t come across as the sleazy type. In fact, the entire team, bar Alicia Myles, had treated her with respect and even a form of acceptance. Still, it seemed odd that the truck driver, Mike Stevens, had been sent home whilst she watched events related to national security unfold right before her eyes.

  Gates wandered over to the far wall, speaking quietly into a cellphone. Lauren didn’t dare wonder whom he might be speaking too. She stretched surreptitiously, searching the room for hidden cameras for the third time. When dealing with government figures, you just never knew who else might be watching.

  Then Karin gasped and Lauren joined her as they watched the Swede, Dahl, take the big truck out of the race. Lauren then followed his progress as he commandeered some guy’s sports car and returned to the fray.

  “That guy’s frickin’ awesome.” She breathed heavily, eyes wide.

  Karin glanced at her. “It’s just Dahl,” she answered. “He does that.”

  Gates was suddenly at her side. “Where we at?”

  “Drake just went for the F150.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  Mai scrambled over to check Hibiki’s vitals. Despite a lot of groaning and coughing, the Japanese agent managed to smile through a mask of blood.

  “I knew I could take the fight out of them using just my body.”

  Mai laid a hand on his head, her own skin dappled with her enemy’s blood. “I have the most important job for you, Hibiki-san.”

  Smyth, over by the doorway, growled low in his throat “C’mon, Maggie, move it.”

  Mai waited for Hibiki’s eyes to clear and meet her own. “I need you to go to the comms room. I need you to make a distress call.”

  Hibiki struggled to sit up. “SOS? Of course.”

  Mai moved away. “We’ll draw them away. I’m depending on you.”

  Smyth charged up the corridor, firing as more Korean guards entered the narrow space. His weapon discharged quickly, but he had a second and a third slung over each shoulder. Mai scooped up every gun she could find as she chased him. Behind her, she heard Hibiki struggling to follow. Smyth passed the door that led to the lab and outside to the partially burned comms room, slowing as he saw it standing open. Mai was about to warn him when he switched left and chose a darker room.

  Shot out the windows at a dead run. . .

  . . . and dove through. Smyth landed headfirst, rolled, and came up with a gun nestled against his shoulder. Then the Korean guards opened fire.

  A round sent him toppling back among shards of shattered glass. Mai barely missed landing on him, registering the bloom of blood and seeing his eyes close before opening fire with a machine gun in each hand. A lead curtain of fury burst through the soldiers. Within seconds they were dead or twitching.

  Mai turned to Smyth.

  But at that moment, another group of Koreans came running around the side of the building—the ones who had been lying in wait outside the open door. Good, Mai thought. That will give Hibiki his window to walk or crawl over to the comms room.

  And judging by their cautious gait and by the way they huddled around their overweight boss, this was the last of them.

  Mai focused hard and all fell into place. She saw the sway of the trees behind them. The way the wind blew little tornadoes of leaves from the brush toward the shorter grass. How the sunlight dappled the killing grounds. She heard the rush of the surf, the deeper pounding of the waves out on the ocean.

  Her mind relaxed whilst her body prepared.

  The chubby island leader strode forwa
rd, unable to contain his curiosity. “And how do you plan to escape from this, Miss Kitano?” His expression betrayed his worst fears.

  “I intend to cut the head off the snake.” Mai widened her stance.

  The island boss frowned in confusion. “Are you talking about me? My head? Even in death the People’s Republic will be victorious. Even with a thousand—”

  Mai sighed. “Do it, Smyth.”

  The marine answered even as he fell into motion. “Now I can die happy.” He crawled between her open legs, and shot the boss through the neck. The ground shook and birds took flight as the lifeless body hit the ground. The remaining soldiers froze, then glanced sidelong at each other.

  Smyth remained where he was, savoring the moment. Blood seeped from an open wound in his shoulder where the Korean’s bullet had winged him. Mai didn’t move a muscle but she examined every face, looking for their tells.

  They were beaten.

  “Cover me.” She marched forward and put a foot on the dead Korean’s back. “Drop your weapons, boys. This island belongs to us now.”

  And even as the guns started clattering to the ground, her thoughts turned to Drake, wondering where in the world he was, and how they would react to each other when they met once again back in civilization.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  Hayden watched Drake speed up to the F150. Its occupants looked ragged now, not the force they had been only a half hour ago when this nightmarish interstate chase had begun. But they still had guns and plenty of volition. And it was now all concentrated on Drake.

  Hayden quickly maneuvered her own Humvee, screaming past a civilian-driven Pontiac that idled sensibly on the hard shoulder, its driver and passengers perched on the concrete K-rail, pointing their cellphones at the streaming mass of cars that sped by. Hayden approached the black SUVs. Even as she came up close, the blacked-out windows didn’t crack. The big cars just kept on going, forming a barrier between themselves, the limo and the Viper in front.