But the younger man was merely playing tight on the timing: as the van drew abreast of the walkway, the front door suddenly opened and the five men sprinted out toward the street. Lathe had the side door sprung before they were halfway there, and in five seconds flat they were all aboard.
"Get yourselves braced," Lathe snapped at them, stomping on the accelerator. Ahead, Mordecai's car had emerged from the next street to lead the way; from the van's radio a slow flurry of commotion was beginning to flood in as the Security watchers belatedly realized something unscheduled was happening. At the next intersection four plain-dressed men scrambled out of their parked car, bringing laser rifles to bear—and dived out of the way as Mordecai put on a burst of speed and did his best to run them down.
Beside Lathe, a figure slid into the van's other front seat. Caine. "What can I do?" he asked tightly.
"Grab the mike and punch in Combat Freq One," Lathe told him, fighting the steering wheel as he rescattered the Security men. "Jensen's up there in a spotter—tell him to put down in the parking lot we just left."
"Got it." Caine busied himself with the radio, and Lathe risked a glance in the mirror at the rest of the team. Still rattled, but adjusting rapidly enough. "Full combat garb," he ordered them. "The next group may get some shots off at us. Braune, signal Mordecai to make for the lot we just left."
"Yes, sir," Braune said, pausing with battle-hood halfway in place to tap at his tingler.
The radio pinged, and a familiar voice came on. "Jensen acknowledging. Sit tight—I'm going to take out some of the opposition first."
"What does he mean by that?" Caine asked.
Lathe consciously relaxed his jaw. "I'm not sure," he admitted. "He may be going to buzz some of the positions closest to the rendezvous point before landing."
Without warning, a flash of light erupted from the next corner. Lathe ducked reflexively as part of the van's front blistered into a cloud of vaporized surfacing; and an instant later the vehicle tilted sideways as the left front tire blew with the heat of a second shot. "Hang on!" Lathe snapped, twisting the wheel hard. The tire would surely be equipped with an inner travel rim, but if the laser fire had damaged that too, they could well wind up taking the last couple of blocks on foot.
Ahead, Mordecai's car slowed fractionally at the hidden gunner's street and the blackcollar's left arm whipped outward through the open window. Whether the shuriken found its target or not Lathe didn't know, but the van passed the intersection without drawing any more fire.
They were barely a block away from the parking lot when the thunder of an explosion nearly shook them off the road.
Lathe's first, horrible thought was that Jensen had crashed his spotter. But seconds later they turned the next corner and saw the other's apparently undamaged aircraft settle onto the parking lot.
Mordecai pulled over to let the van pass ahead of it into the lot, then turned sharply to bring his car to a halt sideways across the opening. In the mirror Lathe saw a pair of Security cars in hot pursuit; Mordecai sent a flight of shuriken in their general direction and then turned and sprinted for the spotter. Stomping on the brake, Lathe swung open his door and leaped out as the van screeched to a halt. "Everyone into the spotter!" he snapped over his shoulder.
They hurried to obey. Beyond the running Mordecai, the Security cars had also stopped and were beginning to discharge armed men. Lathe sent a shuriken toward the crowd and then pulled his slingshot from under his tunic and unfolded the forearm brace.
"Here," Caine said from beside him, pressing a tiny cylinder into his hand. The younger man, Lathe saw, also had his slingshot ready, another of the objects in his hand. "It's a primer cap," he explained, and fired it over Mordecai's head. As a serious explosive device, the primer cap was a joke; as a creator of chaos, it was absolutely perfect. The Security men scattered as Caine's and then Lathe's projectiles blew up in their midst, laser rifles forgotten in the scramble for cover. The two men kept up the barrage until Mordecai had passed them, then turned and sprinted after him. Seconds later, squeezed together like small fish with the rest of Caine's group, they were airborne.
"Any place in particular we headed for?" Jensen asked casually over his shoulder.
"Head south to where the expressway starts—Skyler's supposed to wait for us there," Lathe told him, trying without success to get a look out of one of the cockpit windows. "And watch your back—the other spotters will be on top of us any second now."
"Unlikely," Jensen said, shaking his head, "seeing as I knocked both of them out of the sky a few minutes ago."
"You did what?" Alamzad gasped.
"Forced them down. Rammed their rear stabilizer assemblies, to be specific—this design has always had a glass tail. One of them crashed trying to chase me on manual. The other had more sense and settled for an emergency landing."
"My God," Pittman muttered. "You could have been killed!"
Jensen shrugged. "It's not dangerous when you know what you're doing."
Across Caine's shoulder, Lathe caught Mordecai's eyes. The other grimaced slightly, shook his head in disbelief. Lathe twitched his own head in agreement.
They reached the expressway a minute or two later, setting down just off the road where Skyler's van was waiting. "Everyone out," Lathe ordered, scanning the sky quickly as he trotted toward the van.
Nothing—Jensen's quick air victory had apparently caught Security by surprise.
"They'll have backups in the air any minute now," Jensen reminded him as the comsquare climbed into the seat beside Skyler.
"Right," Lathe said. "Let's get out of here, Skyler."
"The safe house?" the other asked, pulling out into a gap in the traffic flow.
"I think a little extra distance would be appropriate," Lathe answered. "Let's make it Reger's house.
He's got a right to see how his end of the bargain came out, anyway."
Skyler nodded, and silence descended on the crowded van. Behind and above, ground and air Security forces converged on the downed spotter to begin a long and futile search.
Chapter 18
Quinn finished his brief conversation and replaced the phone onto his desk, hand trembling—with anger or frustration; Galway couldn't tell which—as he did so. "Well?" Galway asked, fighting to keep his own anger under control. "Any traces at all of them?"
"No, but we're not giving up yet," the general growled. "We've got the car they abandoned—belongs to a building company in northwest Denver—and we're checking to see how they got hold of it."
Galway snorted. "In other words, you haven't got a clue as to where they've vanished. And aren't likely to get one anytime soon, either."
"Look, Galway—"
"No, you look, General," Galway cut him off. "I told you not to move against Caine—I told you time and again that the best chance we were likely to get was already planted in the group. But you wouldn't listen—and now you may have blasted the whole thing to hell."
"Have I, now," Quinn shot back. "Then tell me, if you would, why your precious Postern didn't tell us Lathe was here. Huh? Answer me that."
"I don't know. My guess is that Lathe didn't bother to tell them he was going to come along."
"Oh, really?" Quinn's voice dripped sarcasm. "He just forgot to mention it or something?"
"Or something, yes. You might recall I did ask you to confirm that the first set of drop pods really were just decoys—playing off other people's assumptions is one of Lathe's specialties. Well, he also likes playing his games tight to his chest, and he may have decided to keep his presence here secret in case one of Caine's team got captured."
"Except that you also said once that interrogating them wouldn't gain us anything," Quinn growled.
"I wish you'd keep your damn stories straight."
Galway took a deep breath. "Of course Caine's teammates aren't likely to break. That doesn't mean Lathe wouldn't hedge his bets anyway." He waved a hand in disgust. "And believe it or not, that might have worked to our advantage once. If Lathe didn't want Caine to know he was here—and we could have confirmed that was the case as soon as Postern made his next contact—then he would have been reluctant to expose himself to Caine by coming to his aid unless there were some immediate danger. We could have kept a full-scale surveillance on Caine without any risk of having the watchers taken out."