“Plan B is still possible. Head inland. If you’re fast you won’t need transport.”
“Plan fucking B.” Drake shook his head. “Always plan B.”
The perimeter watch reported all was clear.
Hayden indicated the box Dahl carried. “We gotta take responsibility here. If you lose that we have no idea what’s inside. And if you lose it to an enemy…” She didn’t need to go on. The Swede placed the box on the ground and knelt beside it.
Hayden brushed at the symbol engraved into the top. The swirling blades cast an ominous warning. Dahl urged the lid open gently.
Drake held his breath. Nothing happened. It was always a risk, but they had been unable to see any hidden locks or mechanisms. Now, Dahl pulled the lid up fully and peered into the space within.
Kenzie grunted. “This is what? A weapon of war? Tied to Hannibal and hidden by the order? All I see is a bunch of paper.”
Dahl sat back on his haunches. “War can be waged through words too.”
Hayden carefully lifted a handful of sheets out and scanned the text. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “Looks like a research file and… a record of…” She paused. “Tests? Testing?” She flicked through more pages. “Build specs.”
Drake frowned. “Now that sounds bad. They’re calling it Project Babylon, Lauren. See what you can dig up on that.”
“Got it,” the New Yorker said. “Anything else?”
“I’m just getting a feel for these specs,” Dahl began. “It’s a gigantic—”
“Down!” Smyth yelled. “Incoming.”
The team dropped and prepared. A volley of gunfire ripped across the stone walls, harsh and deafening. Smyth returned fire from the right, sighting from a niche in the wall. Hayden shook her head.
“We’re gonna have to pack this up. Get out of here.”
“Haul ass?” Drake asked.
“Haul ass.”
“Plan B,” Alicia said.
Staying safe, they moved from wall to wall toward the rear of the farmhouse. Debris littered the floor and chunks of masonry and timber marked where the roof had given way. Mai, Smyth and Kinimaka watched the rear. Drake paused as they reached the back windows and glanced at the route ahead.
“This can only get harder,” he said.
The rising sun slipped over the horizon in a rush of color.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The race continued, but now the odds were drawing in. As Drake and Alicia, in front, broke cover and headed inland, careful to keep the farmhouse between them and their pursuers, the Mossad team finally emerged from the forest. Clad all in black and with face masks, they came low and cautious, guns up and firing. Mai and Smyth quickly fell behind the cover of the farmhouse. Hayden sprinted forward.
“Move!”
Drake fought the instinct to stand and fight; Dahl to his left clearly fought it too. Normally they battled and outwitted their opponents — sometimes it was down to brute force and numbers. But often it was down to the numb-headedness of their opponents. Most paid mercenaries were slow and dull-witted, relying on their size, ferocity and lack of morals to get the job done.
Not today.
Drake was acutely aware of the need to protect the prize. Dahl carried the box and kept it as protected as it was ever going to be. Yorgi now ranged ahead, sampling the ground and trying to find the paths with the most cover. They traversed a hilly field and then dropped through a small, sparse stand of trees. The Israelis stopped their fire for a period, perhaps sensing other teams and not wanting to broadcast their position.
Many tactics were now on display.
But, for Drake, Alicia summed it up best. “For fuck’s sake, Yogi. Get your Russkie head down and run!”
Lauren was tracking their progress by GPS and announced the plan B rendezvous was just over the next horizon.
Drake breathed a little easier. The stand of trees ended and Yorgi led the way up a slight hill, Kinimaka hot on his heels. The Hawaiian’s trousers were caked in mud where he’d fallen — three times. Alicia glanced across at Mai, moving nimbly between folds in the ground.
“Friggin’ Sprite. Looks like a spring lamb gamboling along.”
“Everything she does, she does it well,” Drake agreed.
Alicia skidded in shale, but managed to keep her stride. “We all do it well.”
“Yeah, but some of us look more like goats.”
Alicia raised her weapon. “Hope you don’t mean me, Drakey.” Her voice held a note of warning.
“Oh, of course not, dear. Obviously, I meant the Swede.”
“Dear?”
Shots rang out from behind, cutting Dahl’s retort off before it even began. Experience told Drake the shots were not meant for them, and consisted of two different notes. Mossad were engaging with either the Russians or the Swedes.
The Swedes probably, he thought, ran headlong into Mossad.
He couldn’t help the private chuckle.
Dahl glanced over as if sensing the outrage. Drake offered innocent eyes. They crested the minor hill and slipped down the other side.
“Transport incoming,” Lauren said.
“There!” Hayden pointed to the skies, far away, where a black speck moved. Drake viewed the area and dragged Yorgi down just as a bullet skimmed its way over the top of the hill. Someone had suddenly become more interested in them.
“Into the valley,” Kinimaka said. “If we can reach that set of trees…”
The team readied for the final sprint. Drake glanced again at the oncoming speck. For a second he thought he might be seeing a shadow, but then saw the truth.
“Um, people, that’s another chopper.”
Kinimaka stared hard. “Crap.”
“And there.” Mai pointed to the left, high toward a bank of clouds. “A third.”
“Lauren,” Hayden said urgently. “Lauren, talk to us!”
“Just getting confirmation.” The calm voice came back. “You have the Chinese and the Brits in the air. Russia, Swedes and Israelis on the ground. Look, I’m gonna patch you into the chatter now so you can get first time information. Some of it’s crap, but anything could be valuable.”
“The French?” Kinimaka wondered for some reason.
“Nothing,” Lauren said.
“Good job they’re not all like Beau,” Alicia said with a twist of bitterness and melancholy. “The French, I mean. The guy was a traitor, but damn good at his job.”
Dahl screwed his face up. “If they’re like Beau,” he said quietly. “They could already be here.”
Alicia blinked at that, studying the nearby mounds of dirt. Nothing moved.
“We’re surrounded,” Hayden said.
“Special Forces teams to all sides,” Drake agreed. “Rats in a trap.”
“Speak for yourself.” Mai evaluated everything quickly. “Take two minutes. Memorize what’s inside that box as best you can.” She raised her hands. “Do it.”
Drake caught the gist of it. The box, at the end of the day, wasn’t worth their lives. If things got really tight and the friendlier team overcame them, giving up the box might just save their lives. Dahl flipped the lid open as the team walked straight toward the oncoming choppers.
He handed sheaves of paper all around.
“Whoa, this is weird,” Alicia said.
Kenzie shuffled several sheets. “Walking into a fight whilst reading a thirty to fifty-year-old document written by Nazis and hidden in Hannibal Barca’s grave? What’s weird about that?”
Drake tried to commit the passages to memory. “She has a point. Par for the course for SPEAR.”
High altitude research project, he read. Initially created with the goal of studying the ballistics of re-entry at lesser cost. Instead of expensive rockets…