Problem solved.
Smyth and Lauren also jogged together, passing quiet comments. Yorgi brought up the rear, tired and speckled with debris but loping along with game determination. Dahl knew it had been his first real experience of frantic, unsystematic battle and thought he’d coped well with it. The streets flashed past and then they turned left onto 3rd Avenue, heading up toward the intersection with 51st.
It was a weird few minutes for Dahl. Some parts of the city were unaffected and although many shops remained open and people walked inside a cloud of trepidation, others were deserted, practically devoid of life. A few streets were cordoned off with SWAT vehicles and four-wheel-drive army vehicles strewn about. Some areas shrank with shame at the presence of looters. For the most part the people he saw seemed unclear as to what to do, so he added his voice to what he imagined would be the authorities’ and suggested they find shelter anywhere they could.
And then they reached the precinct where Drake and the others waited and hoped and planned for the rescue of Hayden Jaye.
Only a few hours had passed since this day began. And now they searched in desperation for a way to find the nuke. Dahl knew there would be no turning back, no running away or hiding in bunkers. The SPEAR team were in this to the end. If the city did perish today it would not be for the lack of heroes trying to save it.
CHAPTER THIRTY THREE
Hayden kept her silence as Ramses directed actions and reactions, reminding his men who was boss, testing their absolute loyalty. After dragging her away from the sports store they had made her run among them along 3rd Avenue, then took a moment to locate and ditch her cellphone and tear off her bulletproof vest. Ramses seemed to have some knowledge of tracking devices and their whereabouts and instructed his men to remove her shirt. The small device was found quickly, and discarded, then the group continued their run along what seemed an entirely arbitrary route.
Hayden got the impression that it was anything but.
It took some time. The group ditched their larger weapons and black outer clothing, revealing the usual touristy uniforms beneath. They were suddenly bright, unthreatening, part of a hundred anxious crowds surfing the city’s streets. Police and army patrols lined some of the routes, but the cells just diverted down one dark alley and then another until they were clear. Hayden was given a spare jacket to wear. At one point they climbed aboard pre-positioned motorcycles and took a slow drive out of the inner heart of Manhattan.
But not too far. Hayden wished with everything she had that she could get a message to someone — anyone — now that she knew the location of the bomb. It didn’t matter that they might kill her — it only mattered that these fanatics were stopped.
The bikes were wheeled part way down an alley and then the ten men — eight remaining legionnaires, Ramses and Price — followed each other through a rusted metal side door. Hayden was shoved along at their center, a spoil of war, and although she already knew her fate she tried to take in every sight, every change of direction and every whispered word she overheard.
Beyond the battered outer door, a stinking inner passage led to a concrete staircase. Here, one of the men turned to Hayden and placed his knife against her throat.
“Silence,” Ramses said without turning around. “I would rather not kill you just yet.”
Up they went, four floors, and then paused for only a moment outside an apartment door. When it opened the group crowded in, escaping the hallway as fast as they could. Ramses halted in the center of the room, arms outstretched.
“And here we are,” he said. “At a million endings and at least one beginning. The people of this city will depart this life, never knowing that this is the start of our new path, our holy war. The—”
“Really?” A dry voice broke into the tirade. “A part of me wants to believe you, Ramses, but the other, worst, part — it thinks you’re full of it.”
Hayden got her first good look at Julian Marsh. The Pythian was odd looking, lopsided as if part of him had folded into the other. He wore clothing that would never match, no matter the year or the current trend. One eye was bruised, the other wide and unblinking, whilst one shoe had fallen off. To his right sat a striking brunette that Hayden didn’t know, but by the way they were tangled together it was clear they were associated in more than one way.
Not an ally then.
Hayden watched Ramses react to Marsh’s jibe with disdain. “Did you know?” the terrorist prince said. “That we tricked you before we even met you. Before we even knew the name of the fool that would carry our eternal fire into America’s very heart. Even your own, Tyler Webb, betrayed you.”
“Fuck Webb,” Marsh said. “And fuck you.”
Ramses turned away with a laugh. “Back to what I was saying. Even the people who work here resent this town. It is too costly, too touristy. Ordinary men and women can’t afford to live here and struggle to get to work. Can you imagine the bitterness that fosters against the system and the men who continue to maintain it? There are tolls on the bridges and tunnels. You are nothing if you do not have money. Greed, greed, greed, everywhere. And it makes me sick.”
Hayden stayed quiet, still calculating her next move, still watching Marsh for a reaction.
Ramses took a step away. “And Gator, my old friend. It is good to see you again.”
Hayden watched as the man called Gator embraced his boss. Trying to stay small, quiet and possibly overlooked, she measured how many steps it would take to reach the door. Too many for now. Wait, just wait.
But how long could she afford? Despite Ramses’ words she wondered if he even wanted to escape the nuclear blast. The good news was that the authorities would have the airspace sewn up so the man was going nowhere fast.
Robert Price threw himself into a chair, groaning. He asked the nearest legionnaire for a bottle of aspirin, but was pointedly ignored. Marsh narrowed his eyes at the Secretary of Defense.
“Do I know you?”
Price shrank deep into the cushion.
Hayden gauged the remainder of the room, only now setting eyes upon the dinner table that stood by the far curtained window.
Shit, is that…?
It was smaller than she had imagined. The backpack was larger than the standard model, too big to fit in an airplane luggage bin, but wouldn’t appear too ungainly on the back of a bigger individual.
“I sold you this, Marsh,” Ramses was saying. “With the hope that you would bring it to New York. For that I will be forever grateful. Think of it as a gift when I tell you that you and your woman-friend will be allowed to feel the consuming fire. It is the best that I can offer you and far better than a knife across the throat.”
Hayden committed the nuke to memory — its size, shape and backpack appearance — in case she might need it. No way was she dying here today.
Ramses then turned to his men. “Get her ready,” he said. “And don’t spare the American bitch one ounce of pain.”
Hayden had guessed it was coming. They hadn’t been able to tie her hands on the way here and now she took full advantage of it. So many things counted on her right then — the fate of a city, a nation, a major part of the civilized world. The vase to her right came in handy, its neck the perfect width for her hand and of the right weight to cause some harm. It shattered across the closest man’s temple, jagged pieces flying to the floor. When he brought his hand up Hayden grappled for the gun, but seeing that it was wrapped securely around his shoulder she gave up immediately, instead using her hold on the barrel to pull him even further off balance. Guns were leveled but Hayden ignored them all. This was purely last chance saloon now… no more fighting for her life — more like fighting for a city’s survival. And hadn’t they just smuggled her in here under cover? That told her a gunshot would be frowned upon.