There was more than one individual. He counted four in his field of vision. They were dressed casually but he noticed tactical vests under their jackets. He noticed blades on their hips, swords in sheaths. They all carried carbines.
Except the fifth figure who slid between them. She carried only a sword.
‘We’ll be meeting again now,’ she said.
Her accent was Jamaican, but DC did not recognize her from the Fifth Column or any of its projects. Not that it surprised him. Even as the former General of the Fifth Column’s Tactical Division, he hardly knew any of the organization’s special projects — at least until he’d volunteered for one.
‘Nice sword,’ Nasira said.
‘Not believing we’ve been introduced,’ the Jamaican woman said.
‘Not believing I want to be introduced,’ Nasira said. ‘Didn’t I hear you guys were at the Astoria? How did that work out for you?’
The woman smiled and moved past her soldiers, toward Nasira. ‘Five by five. Slide your pistol out where we see it now.’
Nasira did as instructed, placing her stolen NYPD Glock on the floor and stepping away.
‘I wouldn’t come any closer if I were you,’ Nasira said. ‘This platform is rigged to blow.’ She pointed to an imaginary line of the platform. ‘Motion sensor. Step over that line and we’re toast, pal.’
The Jamaican woman didn’t seem convinced, but she stopped walking.
‘That a tall story you expecting us to be down with,’ she said. ‘Where the explosives be at now?’
Nasira pointed at the carriage. DC flinched, even though no one could see him. She was pointing directly at him. DC slowly lowered himself in the carriage, aware that he was crouching over a long line of demolition charges Denton had placed down the aisle. He could see the door at the end that connected to the next carriage. If he could open it quietly and move through he had a chance of making it to the end of the platform and escaping up the ramp. It was a small chance but it was all he had. He had to move. Now.
Shifting to his hands and knees, he checked over his shoulder to make sure his sword, in its sheath, wasn’t going to catch on any of the seats or make a sound. Satisfied, he started moving.
The doors at the end of the carriage lurched open and one of her soldiers stepped through. DC halted in the aisle, still on hands and knees, and rolled into a row of seats. He grasped the sword on his back, ready to draw. But he knew at the same time that he didn’t have much room to get it out of its sheath, let alone use it.
‘What do you want?’ he heard Nasira say.
‘Simple now,’ the woman said. ‘We just here for the package, nothing more.’
The soldier moved through the aisle, each step careful and measured. DC imagined he was inspecting the demolition charges. He was drawing closer. If he walked past, DC would be hard to miss. And the soldier’s wavy daggers were ideal for the confined spaces of this train carriage.
They’re after the meteorite, he thought. That had to be why they were here.
‘We don’t have it,’ Nasira said.
‘Looks like you not hear me too good,’ the woman said. ‘Half the package be sitting behind you.’
The soldier’s footsteps were getting closer. DC started to remove his sword, slowly, silently. His hand moved out at a two o’clock angle, higher as he lifted the sword. He stopped when his hand hit the window beside him. Carefully, he shifted onto one knee. The soldier paused. He hoped he hadn’t given away his presence. He heard a luggage-compartment door creak open.
DC drew one leg in from under the seats and planted a boot quietly on the linoleum floor. He tilted to one side and continued drawing his sword directly above. Then stopped when he realized his hand was about to pop into view above the headrests.
‘What the hell are they talking about?’ Nasira said.
DC figured she was talking to Jay, because he said, ‘Long story. Black market. They want our abilities. Or, like, blood.’
‘What the fuck?’ Nasira said. ‘Can they even do that? Can you even—? Lady, you better believe you just walked into a war zone.’
If DC tilted his body any further he’d fall into the aisle. All he could do was keep his sword at half-draw and hope the soldier didn’t come any closer.
‘Everything cool. We be taking your friend here,’ the woman said. ‘If you want to be living, you step out the way for us.’
‘This joint is crawling with special forces and operatives,’ Nasira said. ‘They’ll shoot you on sight, you stupid bitch!’
The woman sighed. ‘Just shoot her and be done with it.’
DC drew his sword completely from its sheath. The soldier’s boots scuffed in the aisle, one row behind him. DC wielded his sword with both hands and thrust it into the seat behind him. He heard the breath leave the soldier’s lungs. He looked over his shoulder to see the soldier freeze in position, mouth open, sword through his upper leg.
DC withdrew the sword from the seat. The soldier grunted, hands trembling with adrenalin and quite possibly rage. He aimed his carbine and fired.
Nothing happened.
DC put the end of his sword through the soldier’s neck, severing his windpipe. He kept it there, guiding the soldier to the floor slowly and with minimal gurgling. Blood pooled on the aisle around him.
‘And that’s why you don’t steal other people’s weapons,’ DC said.
Through the window, he saw another soldier aim his carbine at Nasira. He was checking the carbine’s chamber. He removed the magazine and checked the round on top. But DC knew this was no stoppage or double feed.
They were carrying Blue Beret weapons. Fingerprint coded.
Which variant of Blue Berets — Denton’s or the Commander’s — he did not know.
But he could check. He carefully picked up the carbine from the dead soldier and wrapped his primary hand around the pistol grip. He checked the small diode next to the selector switch. It blinked red.
Not the Commander’s masked Blue Berets then. Unfortunately. The weapons were useless even to him.
Through the window, he could see the woman push past the leading soldier. She drew her sword from a sheath engraved with a headless serpent and moved toward Nasira.
‘Don’t come any closer!’ Nasira yelled.
DC had two choices. He could continue through the carriages while everyone was distracted and slip away, unnoticed. It was his plan, after all. Or he could turn around and help Nasira.
Could he even do much though? Aside from being sliced to ribbons.
All he had was one sword. There were five of them.
‘Please lower your hands,’ the woman said. ‘Best if I am to remove your head clean.’
Chapter 52
Denton stood off to the side, USP pistol aimed at Sophia.
‘The bag with the meteorite, if you will,’ Denton said. ‘Go on, bring your friend up.’
Sophia realized Czarina was still wearing a ruck of her own. Denton thought the meteorite was inside.
‘Sorry to disappoint you,’ Sophia said. ‘We don’t have it.’
Denton remained in position. ‘You have five minutes to bring it to me or I blow up one of your friends,’ he said.
She noticed the other hand in his pocket. He removed it, revealing a simple two-way radio transmitter.
‘Which one? I don’t know,’ he said. ‘Lucky dip?’