Keep them safe.
“Do you have any more news?” Moore was asking. “I guess you’ve been talking to Marsh and this Gator guy.”
“Only what we told you,” Alicia said. “Did you get the deactivation codes checked out?”
Moore pointed at a blinking icon that had just started flashing on one of the surviving screens. “Let’s see.”
Drake now returned as Beau headed over to the water cooler for a drink. Moore read the email aloud, which quickly got to the point and authenticated the deactivation codes.
“So,” Moore perused. “The codes are actually kosher. I have to say that that’s surprising. Do you think Marsh knew he was going to be usurped?”
“Could be any number of reasons,” Drake said. “Security for himself. Brinksmanship. The simple fact is that the man is six bullets short of a full mag. If this Gator didn’t sound so wappy I’d actually feel safer right now.”
“Wappy?”
“Batshit crazy?” Drake tried. “I dunno. Hayden’s better at talking your language than I am.”
“English.” Moore nodded. “Our language is English.”
“If you say so. But this is a good thing, folks. Genuine deactivation codes are a good thing.”
“You do realize we could have reached out for them anyway once the boffins have determined the origin of the nuke?” Beau said, returning and sipping from a plastic cup.
“Umm, yeah, but that hasn’t happened yet. And for all we know they changed the codes, or added a new trigger.”
Beau accepted that with a slight nod.
Drake checked his watch. They had been inside the precinct for almost ten minutes now with no word from Hayden or Dahl. Today, ten minutes was an eternity.
“I’m calling Hayden.” He plucked out his cellphone.
“Don’t bother,” Mai said. “Isn’t that Kinimaka?”
Drake whirled to where she pointed. The unmistakable figure of Mano Kinimaka lumbered steadily along the street, bent over, clearly in pain, but jogging doggedly toward the precinct. Drake swallowed a dozen questions and instead raced straight for the man who could answer them. Once outside, the team caught Mano at the rubble-strewn intersection.
“What happened, mate?”
The Hawaiian’s relief upon meeting them was tempered by some terrible heartache sitting just below the surface. “They have Hayden,” he whispered. “We took three of them down, but didn’t get close to Ramses or Price. And then they ambushed us at the end. Took me out of the game and, when I climbed out from under a ton of rubble, Hayden was gone.”
“How do you know they got her?” Beau asked. “Perhaps she is still giving chase?”
“My arms and legs might’ve been impeded,” Kinimaka said. “But my ears heard just fine. They disarmed her and dragged her away. The last thing they said was…” Kinimaka swallowed with a heavy heart, unable to go on.
Drake caught the man’s stare. “We will save her. We always do.”
Kinimaka winced. “Not always.”
“What did they say to her?” Alicia pressed.
Kinimaka looked to the skies as if seeking the inspiration of sunshine. “They said they would give her a close look at that nuke. They said they were gonna strap it to her back.”
CHAPTER THIRTY TWO
Torsten Dahl left several clean-up crews to take care of the area around Times Square and drew his team deep into the shadows offered by a narrow alley. Here, it was quiet and free of life, the perfect place to make an important phone call. He first rang Hayden but when she didn’t answer he tried to contact Drake.
“Dahl here. What’s the latest?”
“We’re in the shit, pal—”
“Balls deep again?” Dahl interrupted. “What’s new?”
“No — neck deep this time. These mad bastards broke, or were broken out, of their cells. Ramses and Price are gone. The fifth cell is — or was — twelve strong. Mano says they got three.”
Dahl picked up on the inflection. “Mano says?”
“Yeah, mate. They got Hayden. They took her with them.”
Dahl closed his eyes.
“But we still have a little time.” Drake tried the positive side. “They wouldn’t have taken her at all if they wanted to detonate immediately.”
The Yorkie was right, Dahl had to admit. He listened as Drake went on to explain that Marsh had now been removed as the Prince of Darkness and replaced temporarily by one called Gator. Homeland had just managed to identify this man as an American sympathizer.
“Really?” Dahl said. “To what?”
“Pretty much to anything than can cause anarchy,” Drake said. “He’s a merc for hire, only this time he went super ballistic.”
“I thought Ramses always kept his business ‘in house’.”
“Gator’s a New York native. He would have been able to provide invaluable logistical knowledge for the op.”
“Yeah, it makes sense.” Dahl sighed and rubbed his eyes tiredly. “So what’s next? Do we have a location on Hayden?”
“They ditched her cell. They must have taken at least some of her clothes because the tracker sewn into her shirt says she’s under a table at the Chipotle Mexican Grill, which we’re just confirming is bullshit. Surveillance cameras are working but the receivers at our end were mostly knocked out by the attack on the precinct. They’re piecing together what they can. And they just don’t have enough manpower. Things could go real bad from here, mate.”
“Could?” Dahl repeated. “I’d say we were already past bad and heading up the street of horrific, wouldn’t you?”
Drake was silent for a moment, then said, “We’re hoping that they continue with the demands,” he said. “Every new requirement give us more time.”
Dahl didn’t have to say they had made no headway so far. The fact was self-evident. Here they were depending on Homeland to discover the nuke’s location, running around like forewarned Christmas turkeys, only so Moore could pinpoint the exact spot, but the whole enterprise had failed.
“All we’ve done is neutralize a few expendable cells,” he said. “We haven’t even come close to Ramses’ real plan, and especially his endgame.”
“Why don’t you guys come down to the precinct? Might as well be together when the next lead comes in.”
“Yeah, we will.” Dahl waved at the rest of his team and figured out the right direction to take them towards 3rd Avenue. “Hey, how’s Mano holding up?”
“Guy took a big hit from a wall of shelving. Don’t ask. But he’s raring to go, just waiting for somebody to give him a target.”
Dahl broke into a run as they ended their call. Kenzie pulled up beside him and nodded. “Bad call?”
“Considering our position I suppose it could be worse but, yes, that was a bad call. They abducted Hayden. Took her to where the bomb is.”
“Well, that’s great! I mean don’t all you guys have hidden trackers?”
“We do. And they threw it away along with her clothes.”
“The Mossad imbed under the skin,” Kenzie said softly. “Good for them, but not for me. Made me feel ‘owned’.”
“It would.” Dahl nodded. “We all need to feel that we’re in control of our own fate, and that each decision is essentially free. Not a manipulation.”
“These days,” Kenzie fingers flexed and then bunched into tight fists, “you manipulate me at your peril,” then she gave him a breezy smile. “Except you, my friend, you can manipulate me anytime, and anywhere, you like.”
Dahl looked away. There was no stopping Bridget McKenzie. The woman knew he was a married man, a father, and yet still poured on the temptation. Of course, one way or another she wouldn’t be here much longer.