Hayden took it all in. Her feeling of helplessness was akin to the emotions she’d been subjected to by Tyler Webb of late. The sense of being so cleverly stalked and powerless to do anything about it. She experienced the same emotions now as she watched Drake and Dahl try to bring New York and the rest of the world back from the edge.
“I will kill Ramses for this,” she said.
Kinimaka laid an enormous paw on her shoulders. “Let me. I’m much less pretty than you and would fare better in prison.”
Moore gestured at a particular screen. “Look there, guys. They’ve disarmed the bomb.”
Elation shot through Hayden as she watched Matt Drake emerge from the café with a relieved and victorious look on his face. The assembled team cheered and then suddenly paused as events began to spiral out of control.
On many monitors, Hayden saw bins exploding, cars swerving to avoid erupting manhole covers. She saw motorcyclists veering through traffic and throwing brick shaped objects at buildings and windows. Seconds later another explosion occurred. She saw a car raise several feet off the floor as a bomb detonated underneath, smoke and flames billowing out from the sides. All around Grand Central, amid the fleeing commuters, trashcans burst into flame. The purpose was terror, not casualties. Fires burned on two bridges, causing tailbacks so profuse even motorcycles couldn’t thread a path through.
Moore stared, face slackening for just a second before he began to bark out orders. Hayden fought to keep her tough perspective and felt Mano’s shoulder brushing against her own.
We will go on.
Activity continued in the ops center, emergency services dispatched and law enforcement rerouted to the worst hit areas. The Fire Department and Bomb Squad were stretched beyond all limits. Moore ordered the use of choppers to help patrol the streets. When the Macy’s department store was hit by another small device Hayden could watch no more.
She turned away, searching through all her experience for any kind of clue as to what to do next, remembering Hawaii and Washington DC in recent years, focusing… but then a terrible sound, a horrendous drawn-out noise, drew her attention back to the screens.
“No!”
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
Hayden barged through the people around her and burst out of the room. Almost growling with anger she descended the stairs, fists compressed into hard lumps of flesh and bone. Kinimaka shouted a warning but Hayden ignored it. She would do this and the world would be a better, safer place.
Surging down the corridor that stretched under the precinct she finally came to Ramses’ cell. The bastard was still laughing, the noise nothing short of a monster’s terrible snarl. Somehow he knew what was happening. The pre-planning was obvious, but the utter contempt for human welfare was not something she could deal with lightly.
Hayden flung open the door to his room. The guard jumped and then shot outside in response to her order. Hayden stalked right up to the iron bars.
“Tell me what is happening. Tell me now and I’ll go easy on you.”
Ramses guffawed. “What is happening?” He faked an American accent. “Is that you people are being brought to your knees. And you will stay there,” The large man bent low so that he could stare right into Hayden’s eyes from a few millimeters distant. “With your tongue hanging out. Doing everything I tell you to do.”
Hayden unlocked the cell door. Ramses didn’t waste a moment, rushing her and trying to knock her to the floor. The man’s hands were cuffed but that didn’t stop him from using his enormous bulk. Hayden sidestepped smartly and rolled him into one of the vertical iron bars, head first, the impact snapping his neck backward. Then she punched hard to the kidneys and the spine, making him flinch and groan.
No more insane laughter.
Hayden used him as a punch bag, moving around his frame and battering different areas. When Ramses roared and spun, she made the first three punches count — bleeding nose, bruised jaw and throat. Ramses began to choke. Hayden didn’t let up, even as Kinimaka reached her side and urged a little caution.
“Stop fucking bleating, Mano,” Hayden snapped at him. “There’re people dying out there.”
Ramses tried to laugh, but the pain in his larynx stopped him. Hayden added to it with a swift rabbit punch. “Laugh now.”
Kinimaka dragged her away. Hayden turned on him, but then the seemingly damaged Ramses charged them both. He was a big man, even taller than Kinimaka, their muscle mass evenly matched, but the Hawaiian outmatched the terrorist in one crucial area.
Battle experience.
Ramses collided with Kinimaka and then rebounded badly, staggering away and back into his cell. “What the hell are you made of?” he muttered.
“Harder stuff than you,” Kinimaka said, rubbing the impact area.
“We want to know what’s next,” Hayden pressed, following Ramses back into his cell. “We want to know about the nuke. Where is it? Who has control? What are their orders? And for God’s sake, what are your true intentions?”
Ramses fought hard to remain upright, clearly not wanting to fall to his knees. The strain stood out in every sinew. When he did raise himself up though, his head hung. Hayden remained as wary as she would be of an injured snake.
“There is nothing you can do. Ask your man, Price. He already knows this. He knows everything. New York will burn, lady, and my people will dance our victory jig amidst the smoldering ashes.”
Price? Hayden saw treachery at every turn. Someone was lying and that made her anger seethe even more. Not falling for the poison that dripped from this man’s lips she held a hand out to Mano.
“Go get me a Taser.”
“Hayden—”
“Just do it!” She turned, fury radiating from every pore. “Fetch me a Taser and man the fuck up.”
In her past, Hayden destroyed those relationships where she considered her partner too weak. Most notably the one she shared with Ben Blake, who died at the hands of the Blood King’s men only months later. Ben, she had thought, was too young, inexperienced, somewhat immature, but even with Kinimaka she now started to adjust her perspective. She saw him as weak, lacking and certainly in need of readjustment.
“Do not fight me, Mano. Just do it.”
A whisper but it reached the Hawaiian’s ears just fine. The big man trotted off, hiding his face and his emotions from her. Hayden swung her gaze back to Ramses.
“You are like me now,” he said. “I have made one more disciple.”
“Ya think?” Hayden buried her knee into the other’s abdomen, her elbow then slamming down without mercy into the back of his neck. “Would a disciple beat the crap out of you?”
“If my hands were free…”
“Really?” Hayden was blind with rage. “Let’s see what you can do shall we?”
As she reached around for Ramses’ cuffs, Kinimaka returned, a Taser looking like a cigar in his clasped fist. He saw her intentions and stood back.
“What?” she cried.
“You do what you have to do.”
Hayden cursed the man, and then cursed even more loudly into Ramses’ face, the feeling of frustration high at not being able to break him.
A low, calm voice broke through her rage: Still, maybe he did give you a clue.
Maybe.
Hayden pushed Ramses until he fell onto his bunk, a new idea springing to mind. Yes, there might be a way. Glaring at Kinimaka she exited the cell, locked it, and then walked toward the outer door.
“Anything new happening up top?”
“More trashcan bombs, but fewer now. One more motorcyclist but they grabbed him.”