In the direct line of fire.
“If we survive this,” he said. “Team SPEAR is taking a week off.”
“Torsty’s already booked for Barbados,” Alicia said.
“What happened in the desert?” Mai wondered.
Drake checked his watch, then his phone, overcome by an odd, surreal moment. Mounting upon the needless death and surging threat, upon the endless chase and the brutal battle, they were now kicking their heels and being forced to take several moment’s respite. Of course, they needed the time to let go of the tension, the mounting anxiety that might eventually get them killed… but Alicia’s way of doing it was always somewhat out of the box.
“Bikini. Beach. Blue waves,” Alicia said. “That’s me.”
“Are you taking your new best friend?” Mai smiled. “Kenzie?”
“Y’know, Alicia, I don’t think Dahl’s booked a team holiday,” Drake said, only half-joking. “More a family vacation.”
Alicia growled. “What a bastard. We are family.”
“Yes, but not in the way he wants. Y’know, Johanna and Dahl need a little time.”
But Alicia was now staring hard at Mai. “And in answer to that initial jibe, Sprite, no, I was thinking of taking Drakey. That okay with you?”
Drake looked away fast, lips pursed in a silent whistle. Behind him he heard Beau’s comment.
“Does that mean you and I are now finished?”
Mai’s voice remained calm. “I guess that’s up to Matt to decide.”
Oh thanks. Thanks a bloody bunch.
It came almost with a tone of relief when his own phone rang. “Yes?”
“Marsh here. Are my little soldiers ready for a brisk jog?”
“You killed those innocent people. When we meet I will see you answer for that.”
“No, friend, it is you who are about to answer. You read my demands, yes? Five hundred million. It is a fair sum for a city full of men, women and little tykes.”
Drake closed his eyes, grating his teeth. “What next?”
“Details for the payment, naturally. Go to Grand Central Station. They’re waiting inside one of the central cafés.” He mentioned the name. “Folded neatly and tucked inside an envelope which some kind soul has stuck to the underside of the last table at the far end of the counter. Trust me, you’ll understand when you get there.”
“And if we don’t?” Drake hadn’t forgotten about the escaped cell member nor the existence of at least two further cells.
“Then I’ll call on the next donkey to carry my load and blow up a donut shop. That sound okay with you?”
Drake fantasized for a moment about what he might do to Marsh when they captured him. “How long?”
“Oh, ten minutes should do it.”
“Ten minutes? That’s bollocks, Marsh, and you know it. Grand Central is over twenty minutes from here. Probably double that.”
“I never said you had to walk.”
Drake clenched his fists. They were being set up to fail and they all knew it.
“Tell you what,” Marsh said. “To prove I can be pliable I’ll change that to twelve minutes. And counting…”
Drake started to run.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Drake rushed into the road as Beau called up the coordinates for Grand Central on his GPS. Alicia and Mai ran a step behind. This time however, Drake wasn’t planning on making the journey on the hoof. Despite the impossibly crushing schedule Marsh had set the attempt had to be made. Three cars had been abandoned outside the museum, two Corollas and a Civic. The Yorkshireman didn’t give them a second glance. What he wanted was something…
“Get in!” Alicia was standing by the open door of the Civic.
“Not nippy enough,” he said.
“We can’t waste time standing here waiting for—”
“That’ll do,” Drake saw beyond a slow-moving horse and carriage ride that had just exited Central Park to where a powerful F150 pickup idled away at the curb.
He sprinted toward it.
Alicia and Mai took off behind. “Is he fucking kidding?” Alicia ranted at Mai. “No way am I riding a horse. No way!”
They slipped past the animal and made short work of requesting the driver lend them his vehicle. Drake jumped on the gas pedal, burning rubber as he shot away from the curb. Beau pointed to the right.
“Take that through Central Park. It’s the 79th Street Transverse and leads to Madison Avenue.”
“Love that song,” Alicia barked. “And where’s Tiffany’s? I’m hungry.”
Beau gave her an odd look. “It isn’t a restaurant, Myles.”
“And Madison Avenue was a pop group,” Drake said. “Led by Cheyne Coates. As if anyone would ever forget her.” He swallowed with a flash of memory.
Alicia grunted. “Bollocks. I’m just gonna stop trying to lighten the mood. Any why is that, Drakey? Was she a tart?”
“Hey, steady on!” He swung the speeding vehicle onto 79th, which was a single wide lane and lined by a high wall with trees overhanging. “A pinup maybe. And a remarkable front woman.”
“Look out!”
Mai’s warning saved their vehicle as a Silverado swerved over the inch-high central reserve and tried to ram them. Drake caught sight of the face behind the wheel — the last member of the third cell. He tramped on the gas pedal, jerking everyone back into their seats as the other vehicle spun and set off in pursuit. All of a sudden their race through Central Park took on a far deadlier aspect.
The driver of the Silverado drove with reckless abandonment. Drake slowed to ease past a scattering of cabs, but their pursuer used the opportunity to slam their rear end. The F150 jolted and swerved but then righted itself without issue. The Silverado side-swiped a cab, sending it spinning over into the other roadway where it smashed into the retaining wall. Drake turned sharply left and then right to pass a dog-leg of cabs and then accelerated along an open stretch of road.
The terrorist behind them leaned out of his window, gun in hand.
“Down!” Drake yelled.
Bullets hammered every surface — the car, the road, the walls and the trees. The man was wild with anger and excitement and probably hatred too, uncaring as to the damage he caused. Beau, in the back seat of the F150, pulled a Glock and shot the back window out. Cold air rushed into the cab.
A row of buildings appeared to the left and then several pedestrians sauntering along the sidewalk up ahead. Drake saw only the Devil’s choice now — the chance death of a passerby or be late to Grand Central and face the consequences.
Eight minutes left.
Tearing down 79th, Drake spied a short tunnel ahead, overhung by hanging green branches. As they entered the brief darkness he hit the brake pedal, hoping their pursuer would swerve into the wall or at least lose his gun in the chaos. Instead, he veered around them, driving hard, shooting out of the side window as he went past.
They all ducked as their own window blew in, the whine of a bullet almost gone before they heard it. Alicia hung her own head out now, gun aimed, and fired at the Silverado. Ahead, it sped up and then slowed. Drake closed the gap fast. Another bridge appeared and now traffic was steady on both sides of the double yellow lines. Drake closed the gap until their own fender was almost touching the rear of the other car.
The terrorist twisted his frame around and pointed the gun over his shoulder.
Alicia fired first, the bullet pulverizing the Silverado’s rear window. The driver must have flinched, for his vehicle swerved, narrowly missing oncoming traffic and inspiring a tuneful burst of horns. Alicia leaned further out.
“That bit of blond hair whipping about,” Mai said. “Just reminds me of something. What do they call them now? A… collie?”