The remaining gunman watched Desh’s retreat and kneeled by his fallen partner, shoving two fingers into his carotid artery. His face registered surprise when he detected a steady pulse. He had clearly thought his colleague was dead, or at best, fighting to cling to a life that was ebbing away. He found the tranquilizer dart protruding from his partner’s neck a moment later and pulled it out to examine.
Desh’s retreat had been noisy, but when he circled back to his original position he was whisper quiet, and the remaining soldier, still in a crouch by his partner, had no idea Desh was behind him until a tranquilizer dart buried itself in his thigh and injected its fast acting drug.
The man collapsed beside his colleague, as neatly as two slabs of meat arranged side by side at a butcher shop.
That was relatively straightforward, thought Desh. Now all he had to do was lift one of these men in a fireman’s carry and meet Connelly and his minivan at the designated coordinates.
He contacted Connelly. “Mission accomplished,” he reported.
“What took you so long?” said Connelly wryly.
“I guess I’m losing my touch,” replied Desh with a smile. “How are the Rosenblatts?”
“They’re doing as well as can be expected under the circumstances. I’ll tell them to sit tight for a minute while I pick you up. Do you want to drive a family to Denver in an RV, or a prisoner to Denver in a minivan? Your choice.”
“Definitely the family,” said Desh. “I should reach you in about fifteen minutes.”
“Roger that. See you in fifteen.”
Desh hung up the phone and approached the two unconscious men. Hopefully the one he chose could provide useful information about Jake and his operation.
Desh saw movement in the corner of his eye.
He dove to the ground before his conscious mind fully registered what he had seen, just as a bullet drove through the air where his head had been a moment earlier and imbedded itself deep in an elm.
He rolled to his feet and darted off through the trees. As he ran bits of bark exploded near his head as his assailant continued shooting. Hitting a moving target in a heavy woods was not easy, and Desh knew it would take a lucky shot. Even so, being shot at did wonders for one’s speed and concentration.
When Desh had put some distance between himself and his pursuit, and he was no longer being shot at for fifteen full seconds, he risked a quick look around.
There were four men working their way cautiously but rapidly through the woods behind him, each dressed from head to toe in black. Four of them? And everything about their movements and style shouted special ops.
So much for Jake’s men not having access to any backups. What was going on?
Desh resumed his sprint through the woods, but this time he took a course that was at a right angle to his initial one. He knew the strategy that was surely being used against him—it was one he had used himself. They had organized their forces both behind and ahead of him before revealing themselves. Had he remained on course, he would have been stampeded straight into an ambush.
As he ran he tried to put the pieces together. Jake had told his second in command, Kolke, there would only be two of his men in Omaha, and to warn them that backup wouldn’t be a possibility. So Desh had set a trap for these two men.
But Jake had used Desh’s own trap against him. He had been a step ahead. How? Somehow this colonel had figured out the core Icarus team had escaped the bombing of their headquarters. Somehow this man had figured out they were on to him. The speed with which he had come to this conclusion, and had acted upon it, was impressive.
Jake must have reasoned that the only way they could have been warned of his attack was if they knew Rosenblatt had been captured. Which meant they probably knew his family was under surveillance. From there it was a simple, logical step for Jake to predict that Icarus would try to extract them.
Jake’s team must have arrived in Omaha hours before he and Connelly had, and had waited patiently until they could spring a trap of their own. And Desh had made it easy for them.
Desh put on the brakes, removed a flashbang grenade from a pocket, and threw it in a long arc behind him, into the vicinity of the men on his left flank. It hit a tree and exploded with a deafening blast that could be heard for miles, and a flash that was so bright it could temporarily blind anyone who got an eyeful, even during the day.
He hastily strung a trip wire between two trees. This one would be ineffective against men as good as these, but the flashbang and tripwire would give them something to think about. Slow them down a little. Keep them the tiniest bit off balance.
Desh considered taking the gellcap he had with him. Skilled as he was, he had very little chance of surviving with normal human faculties. But this wasn’t a decision to be taken lightly. Being judicious in the use of force wasn’t the strong suit of an enhanced mind. Once Desh was enhanced, he would be looking out for number one, with zero regard for life—other than his own. It would be difficult for him to prevent his alter ego from mowing through these men without mercy or remorse.
And this was a big problem. He had served in units just like these, and he considered these men the good guys. They were soldiers risking their lives to stop those trying to kill millions of helpless civilians. Children. The innocent. They had been led astray with respect to Kira, but he and these men were on the same side.
Several more bullets whistled by him and he knew he had no choice. He had to boost his capabilities and he had to do so now. He just prayed that he could somehow find the force of will to deflect his enhanced self, that his alter ego would retain enough of his values to get to safety without slaughtering these good men. He pulled the key ring from his pocket, put on an extra burst of speed, and then dove behind the wide trunk of an ancient cottonwood tree. He put his thumb over the small silver container attached to the ring and the top slid open.
As he reached for the gellcap, bark flew up around him as shots came in from another direction. He dove to the underbrush and rolled, sending the gellcap flying. He searched for the small pill frantically, but a wall of gunfire prevented him from trying to recover it, even if he was able to spot where it had landed.
He spun around and everywhere he looked, black clad men were moving in on him, slowly and inexorably. He was in the center of a slowly collapsing net with no gaps, and he now had no means to improve his mind and reflexes.
“I surrender!” he shouted at the top of his lungs, knowing he was seconds away from being turned into hamburger. “Cease firing! I surrender!” he screamed again, emerging from behind a clump of trees with his hands held high over his head.
The gunfire halted as he came out in the open, but well over a dozen guns were trained on him as he stood there. A colonel emerged from the pack of elite soldiers.
“David Desh,” he said in amazement. “I’ll be damned.”
And then without another word, he raised a gun in one smooth motion and fired.
Desh had just enough time to realize he had been hit with a tranquilizer dart before he sank to the dirt, unconscious.
17
Kira Miller paced across her bedroom inside Icarus’s industrial headquarters once again, continuing to feel sick to her stomach. A framed picture of her and the man she loved mocked her from the end table. It wasn’t her bedroom—it was their bedroom. She saw David’s smiling face in her mind’s eye. His strength. His compassion. His intelligence. His sense of humor. She loved him with all of her might. If she lived an eternity, she knew she would never meet his equal.