“We’re in the system too now,” Lauren assured them. “The FBI brought some high-level computer geeks down who’ve been poking around for a while.”
“Any news on the other Special Ops teams?” Hayden asked.
“We think so. Just getting confirmation. It’s all a bit of a muddle in there.”
Drake tapped Yorgi’s cheek, to the right of his mask. “Tell me about it.”
The Russian moved slightly, raising his arms. His eyes fluttered open and he stared unseeing, straight at Drake. He coughed, tried to remove his mask, but Drake kept it in place. Atropine or no atropine, it was best to leave nothing to chance. Smyth struggled too and then Kenzie; Dahl breathed a long, audible sigh of relief. The team took the chance to share a brief, weak smile.
“Let’s get them out into the air,” Hayden said. “We’re done here today.”
Lauren came back on the comms. “They’re okay? All of them?” She still had no idea who had been infected.
“So far so good, love,” Drake said. “Could do with a doc to check ’em over though.”
“We have a dozen out here.”
“Coming to you now,” Hayden said.
The team reformed and helped each other out of the front doors. Hayden clutched the bio-weapon to her chest, unsure even now who she could trust. She posed the question to Lauren across the comms.
“It needs taking to a safe facility in Dallas,” Lauren said. “I have the details here. They’re waiting for you.”
Hayden stared over at Drake, eyes weary behind the mask.
It never ends.
Drake knew exactly what she was thinking. By the time they reached the ambulance set-up, removed their masks and found Lauren though, they were already starting to feel a little refreshed. Drake found pleasure in being brought a hot coffee and Alicia bleated for a bottle of water. Mai took it away from her, drank, then offered her a sip from the used bottle.
Kenzie reached up, grabbed it away from Mai, and sighed. “Why do I see four of you?”
Alicia reclaimed the water. “Still alive then? Hey, does this count as a three-way?”
Drake had been watching. “Y’know something? I’ll know when it’s time to quit this job when you two stop trying to wind each other up. That’s when I’ll retire.”
Lauren left Smyth’s side for a moment as a barrage of information came across her central comms system. This would include messages from the obnoxious guy in DC, the local Dallas operation and, to a lesser extent, the Secretary of Defense.
She waved for the group to listen up before remembering she could use the comms. “Hey, ah, well, hi. I’m gonna give you the address in Dallas and you should get on your way. The longer that bio-weapon stays loose the greater the danger. Now, we have a little bit of clarification. It seems the initial sleeping agent which was introduced to affect almost everyone working in the lab was triggered by a redundant code as soon as you opened Geronimo’s coffin. It seems they think the cult may now not still exist, but at least one person might still be working for them. The sarin was also triggered by the same code and no doubt by the same person. An insider? Maybe. But don’t forget we had to take down the lab’s shields so a signal could have gotten in.”
“You need to check for people leaving before the sleeping agent did its work,” Hayden said.
“On it. But there’s more. Bodies have been counted.” She took a breath. “Our lab people and innocent civilian have fared well. They all seem to be responding to the atropine. It’s assumed, since they were asleep on the floor, that they received only weak doses, and help came quick. Now, the IDs are hard, but since we knew the positions of the Russians and Swedes we have to assume we’re correct. Three Russians dead, two missing. Two Swedes dead, one missing. And three Israelis dead, two missing.”
“They didn’t get atropine?” Dahl asked worriedly.
“Sure they did, but after the civilians. And it did hit them more aggressively.”
By now, Smyth, Yorgi and Kenzie were on their feet, looking refreshed and hungry for action. Drake wondered if it might be one of the aforementioned side effects.
“Yorgi,” he said. “Look at Alicia. What do you see?”
The Russian smirked. “Ice cream and hot chilies?”
Drake grinned. “He’s fine.”
Alicia frowned hard. “What the hell does that mean. Yogi? Yogi? C’mon, mate. You know I love you, but if you don’t spill I’m gonna have to kill you.”
Drake pulled her away toward the waiting cars. “Well done, love, you just proved his point.”
CHAPTER THIRTY ONE
Speed was their choice, their savior, their God, and their best way to stay alive right now.
They had no illusions about what might await them on the way into Dallas. It didn’t matter how many cops assisted; how many FBI SUVs and SWAT vans lined the route, the people they were up against were among the best in the world and they would find a way.
Depending on who they were really working for.
Drake saw the vehicles they’d been provided with for the short run through Dallas — two government issue, four-wheel drives — and pulled up short.
“That really ain’t gonna work.”
Remembering the car park and its contents, he nodded to a pair of parking spots near the exit.
“They will.”
Lauren voiced her agreement. “I’ll get the FBI to sort it out.”
“Quickly.” Drake was already headed that way. “Everyone? Load the fuck up. We’re about to need every bullet we’ve got.”
With Hayden in their midst they dashed toward the cars — a stealth-black Dodge Challenger and a baby blue Mustang with two white stripes down the bonnet. Dahl honed in on the Mustang, which was fine because Drake wanted the Challenger. Police cars screamed away, preparing to clear a route through the center of Dallas. A chopper hovered nearby, warned away because of the likely probability that Special Forces teams could shoot it down. Both cars were new enough to be hacked — the FBI didn’t need the keys.
Drake climbed in, along with Yorgi — who grabbed the passenger seat — Hayden, Alicia and Mai. He fired the engine up, grinning happily.
“Now that,” he said, “is a sound I’d get out of bed before six a.m. on a morning for.”
Alicia ignored it. She was used to his childishness, and had let everyone know it.
Drake revved the engine. Dahl fired up the Mustang alongside and the two men grinned through two sets of windows, together at last.
Hayden tapped the canister against the back of his seat. “Bio-weapon.”
“Umm, yeah. Okay.”
He floored it, spinning the wheel and the car around a tight space in the car park and racing for the exit. The vehicle bounced over uneven asphalt, front end lifting and rear end scraping. Sparks flew.
Behind Drake, Dahl saw the sparks flashing across his windshield, covering it in fire for over a second. Clearly, he wasn’t happy.
“ ’Kinell, Drake. Were you trying to hit that?”
“Just drive,” Hayden came back. “The secure building’s only nine minutes away.”
“Yeah, on a race track maybe,” Smyth said. “But this is Dallas, and these two ain’t race car drivers.”
“You wanna shot, Lancelot?” Drake breathed. “Climb over that Swede and take it.”
“Whatever.”
“Are you angry?” Alicia joined in. “Surely not, Lancelot.”
“Can we—” Hayden tried again.
Lauren’s voice overrode hers. “Hostiles are inbound,” she said, then: “Don’t get shot, Lancelot.”
Drake held a great deal of oversteer by finessing the wheel and using both lanes of the road. A cop car stood ahead, blocking other drivers from crossing their path. The Challengers shot past a junction, high-rises now surrounding them. The Mustang blurred past half a second later, almost nosing the Dodge’s rear fender. Drake glanced up into the rearview and all he could see was Dahl’s gritted teeth.