Not a chance, asshole.
No point both of us dying.
Shut your stupid mouth.
Alicia slipped further. Russo’s boots slammed against the tarmac again. The discarded bike bounced along with them for a moment, throwing sparks into the night before falling behind. Kenzie pulled up broadside, showing no emotion. The plane shrieked as it reached take-off speed and suddenly Alicia felt the angle change.
Fuck!
Only her powerful thighs were keeping her aboard now. Russo couldn’t help; he had nothing to leverage with. It was a moment of utter madness, of one soldier keeping the other safe, of one friend refusing to let the other die. It was clinging on to hope until the very last thread had unraveled and the point of return was long gone.
The plane climbed. Alicia slipped over the tailgate with no thought for herself; only the need to keep Russo alive in her head. Strong crosswinds buffeted her, whipping at her face and hair. As the rushing tarmac beckoned strong hands suddenly grabbed her own legs, holding tight and trying to haul her back inside. But Alicia refused to give Russo up. The pulling hands weren’t strong enough. A moment later a second pair grabbed hold, this time much further up, and also started to pull.
Alicia grunted in surprise and slid back inside the plane with her aching arms still attached to Russo’s enormous hands. Both soldiers fell in a heap, exhausted and battered, too spent to acknowledge they were happy to be alive. Breathing and feeling pain were now the best sensations in the world.
At last, Alicia eyed Healey. “That’s a hell of a way to cop a feel, Zacky.”
Healey managed a tired smile. “Good job you’ve got some meat on your ass. Gave me something to grab hold of.”
Alicia’s eyes went wide. “Feeling brave aren’t we? If I had an ounce of strength left you’d be over my bloody knee.”
“Ooo, can’t wait.”
Crouch signaled for quiet. “So now we have Riley and Kenzie right on our tail. This is bad, folks. Not only are we in danger but everywhere we go ends up like a war zone. I’m really thinking we may need some help.”
“Drakey?” Alicia said hopefully.
“No. The SPEAR team’s busy chasing ghost ships.” Crouch shook his head. “But this feels like war.”
“It is war.”
Crouch watched the tailgate finally slam into place, his eyes deep pools of unease. “Then let’s start fighting back.”
TWENTY ONE
Despite the mind-bending chaos, Crouch found himself drifting a little once the plane had reached altitude. Life as head of the Ninth Division had been peace and harmony compared to this madness. Perhaps it was the rigidity, the directness of military leadership, but since he’d returned to ‘the field’ nothing was written solely in stone. It was fluid, shocking, awash with decisions that were always second-guessed. It was living and thinking on your feet until your soles burned.
Ah, for the simple life.
Dreaming, thinking like a treasure hunter for all those years, hadn’t prepared him for this. The world had changed since he’d been a boy. Black and white, and even grey, were dead ghosts from a misplaced youth. The heroes of his boyhood would never succeed in the world of today. Imagining an old Corgi toy, an ancient Hornby train set, just a poster stuck to the wall with its edges curling up, he wondered how they stacked up to the toys of 2015. Life moved on, but not just life. Technology surged but at the same time it seemed — morality shrank. Somebody, somewhere, was always getting away with pushing the boundaries. How much further could they be pushed?
Nostalgia pricked him. He studied his colleagues, thanking his lucky stars for those such as Alicia Myles and Rob Russo. They did understand today. They knew how the world had changed and what it meant to stay alive. They knew what it took to keep the world safe — even if the people they saved never knew or even cared. At the end of the day, they were the best at what they did and knew little else. Though they craved peace and love and normality, could they ever live with it?
Crouch reflected on his home back in London. He owned a flat in Hammersmith, just off the A4 that eventually led past Harrods and Hyde Park Corner. The flat was locked, silent now, a dark shrine to things that he thought he loved — Matchbox die-cast cars, fantasy books and magazines he’d found in the old Forbidden Planet store on Denmark Street, material unavailable in the UK — that kind of spine-tingling treasure hunt in old bookstores was lost forever now after the advent of the Internet. Some said it was easier, less frustrating; he thought it took away the magic of discovering hidden treasures. But wasn’t that a boyhood thrill?
No. Even jaded adults like me love a gripping yarn. Once you pass a certain age your escapism comes through books or movies, not through real life.
He caught himself nodding, felt the crick in his neck, and came awake. The drone of the plane’s engines was enough to soothe anyone. Even Alicia had her eyes closed — though Crouch suspected she might still be watching him. Alicia Myles had been the first woman accepted by the SAS and — apart from Mai Kitano perhaps — remained the most dangerous and capable woman he’d ever met. Her fire, her passion, came from seeking the next challenge, the continuing adventure. What would happen if she ever stopped?
Armageddon?
He shrugged unconsciously. There was only one man alive who could stop Alicia from self-imploding and that man was not here.
His thoughts turned to the dilemma at hand, and to the man who presented the greatest threat — Daniel Riley. Crouch had learned a valuable lesson the day Riley bought explosives and detonated a bomb in India. Never let your guard down. Of course, a valuable lesson sometimes had to be learned more than once but the fundamentals were there. After India, Crouch had become much more introverted, a quality that had later helped him become a leader. All that experience though, all those later encounters, never helped him understand what the hell had happened to Daniel Riley.
Life, he thought. It was what happened to us all.
And now… Kenzie. He shouldn’t underestimate her as he once had Riley. She had already proved her willingness to do brutality, her lack of morality. She was down there with the parasites that fed off sewer scum as far as he was concerned. But two enemies? Two utterly ruthless, well-equipped and proficient enemies?
They needed help.
Crouch called a number and listened to the accent. “Hello?”
“It’s me again. Did you figure out a way?”
“Oui. I can leave here for a few days. But no more.”
“Good. I think we need you.”
“And she? Does she need me?”
“We all do.”
“Then that is good. Where she is involved I will always help.”
“Oh, thanks for that,” Crouch said a little drily.
“You are welcome, Michael. Where do you want me?”
Crouch moved to the furthest part of the plane and proceeded to convey everything he knew about Bridget McKenzie and the barest details about Daniel Riley. After a few minutes he paused.
“Is that it?”
“Yes. Now, are you sure the Pythians won’t miss you?”
“I’m sure it can be done, mon ami. The downside is that I can only spare a few days. I will be in Paris when you are.”
“Excellent. And you’re not here to, um, make contact. Do you understand?”
Laughter emanated across the airwaves. “She will not even know I am there.”
“Good. Perhaps we can find a few hours to debrief. It has been a while.”
“We should. I have completed many undercover jobs for you before, Michael, but this… this one is the hardest.”