“I’m out of ammo!” she screamed, tossing the rifle aside and scrabbling in the muck for her handgun.
Gideon fell on Nodding Crane, grasping the man’s gun and trying to wrench it from his hands, hoping he was dead. But he was not — it seemed he, too, had body protection. The two wallowed in the muck, locked in a struggle for the TEC-9. But Nodding Crane was incredibly strong and he threw Gideon off, bringing his weapon up.
Mindy swung in with a board, attempting to slam it against Nodding Crane’s head, but the assassin pirouetted away, deflecting the blow with his shoulder and raising his weapon unsteadily.
Gideon staggered back, realizing they had only one option now: to get away. “Out!” he cried.
Mindy leapt over the lip of the trench as Gideon followed. Another burst came from the TEC-9, but they were already racing across the field in the blackness of the storm and the rounds went wild.
For a moment the sky was split by an immense blast of lightning, followed by the roar of thunder.
“Bastard’s reloading,” Mindy gasped as they ran, reaching the line of trees as a fresh burst of fire ripped through the leaves around them, spraying them with vegetation. They crashed through the undergrowth, running until they could run no more.
“Your weapon?” Gideon gasped.
“Lost it. Got my backup.” She pulled out a military-issue Colt .45. “The wire?”
“In my pocket.”
“We’ve got to keep moving.” She turned and headed south at a jog, Gideon following, pushing away the pain as best he could. He had lost his night-vision goggles and flashlight in the fight, and they were moving in pitch black, blundering through the woods, thrashing aside heavy brush and brambles. He had no doubt Nodding Crane was following.
“This isn’t going to work,” gasped Gideon. “He’s got night vision. We need to get out in the open where we can see.”
“Right,” said Mindy.
“Follow me.” Recalling the map, Gideon headed due east. The woods thinned and they passed through another field of bones, their feet crunching over skulls half-hidden under the leaves, and emerged at a broad, overgrown road with long, low buildings along one side: the boys’ workhouse complex. There was just enough light coming from the southern sky — the lights of New York City — for them to see. Gideon broke into a run and Mindy did the same.
“Where’s the boat?” she gasped.
“Near the beach by the smokestack,” he said.
A sudden burst of fire came at them from behind, and Gideon instinctively threw himself down. Mindy landed beside him, rolled, returned fire with the .45. There was a sharp scream, then silence.
“I got him!” she said.
“I doubt it. He’s a wily bastard.”
Scrambling to their feet again, they ran for the ruined dormitories, leaping over a shattered doorway. Gideon kept going, running almost blind through one ruined room after another, tripping over mangled bed frames and broken plaster. Coming out the far end, he took a sudden turn into the ruined chapel, ran its length, leapt out the broken rose window at the end, then doubled back.
“What are we doing?” Mindy called softly from behind. “You said the boat was the other way—”
“ Randomis what we’re doing. We need to lose him, go to ground.”
Gasping, ribs on fire, he led the way through a dense stand of woods toward the opposite shore, moving more slowly now, trying to be as silent as possible. The trees thinned and they stepped out onto the overgrown baseball field he had seen earlier, bleachers covered with vines and trees, the diamond having vanished under a riot of weeds and saplings.
They pushed through the field. Gideon stopped and listened. The wind howled, the rain came down in stinging sheets — it was impossible to hear.
“I’m pretty sure we lost him,” Mindy whispered, digging rounds out of her pocket and reloading. She nodded at the bleachers. “That looks like a good place.”
Gideon nodded. On their hands and knees, they crawled under the old bleachers. They were covered with a heavy mat of vegetation; within, it was like a cave. The rain drummed on the metal seats above.
“He’ll never find us here,” she said.
Gideon shook his head. “He’ll eventually find us anywhere. We’ll wait for a bit, then make a dash for the boat. It’s not that far.”
He listened. Over the roar of the storm he could hear the sound of the surf in the distance.
“I think I really did hit him back there.”
Gideon didn’t answer, thinking instead of the route they now had to take to get to the boat. He had no confidence that Nodding Crane had been hit — or that they’d shaken him.
“You don’t have a light or the map?” he asked.
“Everything was in my pack. All I saved was the gun.”
“How did you get out of the dirt?”
“It was loose and I wasn’t far under the surface. You shoveled off most of the weight. Give me the wire.”
“For God’s sake,” he hissed, “we’ll deal with that later.”
The gun came around and pointed at him. Mindy rose slowly, taking a step back. “I said, give me the wire.”
For a moment, Gideon’s mind went black as he stared at the gun. And then he recalled Nodding Crane’s comment. You’re a fool.It had seemed like a random insult at the time. But now, too late, he realized that nothing Nodding Crane said or did was random.
“What the hell are you doing?” he asked.
“Just give me the wire.”
“Who are you? You’re not CIA.”
“I was. They didn’t pay worth shit.”
“So you’re freelance.”
She smiled. “Sort of. I’m doing this particular job for OPEC.”
“OPEC?”
“Yeah. And I’m sure you’re smart enough to figure out where OPEC comes in.”
“No,” he said, buying time.
“What do you think that piece of wire would do to their business? You could kiss the petroleum market good-bye. Along with the gas-powered car. So give me the wire, big boy. I really don’t want to kill you, Gideon, but I will if you don’t do what I say.”
“So how much are they paying you?”
“Ten million.”
“You sold yourself short.” He thought back to Hong Kong, how she’d just happened to have a diplomatic embosser in her bag. That alone should have made him suspicious. He recalled how she always seemed to be working alone, no backup, no partner. Very un-CIA.
Nodding Crane was right — he’d been a fool.
She stuck out her hand. Of course, she might kill him anyway. But maybe, just maybe, the memory of their time together would stop her…He reached into his pocket and handed her the wire.
“That’s a good boy.” Still covering him, she held it up, scrutinizing it. Then she balled it in her fist and took fresh aim.
“Wow,” she said. “I’m really sorry to do this.”
And Gideon realized she meant it: she truly was sorry. But she was going to do it anyway.
He closed his eyes.
69
A single shot rang out from the darkness. Gideon felt nothing: no pain, no impact of a bullet. His eyes flew open. At first, nothing seemed to have changed. Then he saw the blank look on Mindy’s face, the clean bullet hole between her eyes. For a moment she stood there. Then she toppled backward into the dirt.
Gideon snatched the wire from her twitching hand and ran.
More shots ripped through the seats, spraying him with wood chips and vegetation. He burst out the rear of the bleachers and made a beeline for the boat. It was his only chance for survival.
Ahead stretched the post-Armageddon suburban neighborhood. He sprinted down the leafy, ruined streets, turned a corner, then another. He could hear Nodding Crane pounding along behind him, slowly catching up.
To go into a house would mean being trapped. He couldn’t outrun his enemy. And he realized now he was never going to make the boat.