Bodie was pleased the CIA agent could manage a witticism or two. The prospect of the next few days and weeks would be even dourer if she’d proved to be a stick in the mud. A hundred faces had already passed him by, and then the next face jolted him, made him blink.
Bodie allowed his eyes to glaze, his gaze to drift past the Hood. If he was that highly trained it wouldn’t do to let his eyes linger too long. The Hood was taking a diagonal path toward a drinks machine, rucksack clutched in his right hand, and it was the unerring angled route he’d chosen, against all the random human tides, that made him stand out. Maybe he was used to people getting out of his way; maybe he didn’t notice them, but either way Bodie made him and nudged Heidi’s hip with his own.
“My two o’clock. Positive sighting.”
Heidi slowed, glanced casually over. Her sharp intake of breath verified his claim. They quickly modified their own path so they were on an interception course, but sauntered still, arm in arm. Bodie gauged the distance to his weapon. Heidi steered them a little further afield, scared the Hood might detect them. When Cassidy and Gunn reappeared around the back edge of a dirty bus they dared not make any signal. It was Bodie’s hope that Cassidy would see their purpose.
Not to be. She’s too busy scolding Gunn over something.
Heidi saw it too, her face unimpressed. The Hood made his way to the drinks machine and dug in his pocket for change. He bought a can of Diet Pepsi. Bodie and Heidi came up steadily behind, still a dozen steps away. The Hood secured his rucksack over his shoulders, then paused and spun.
He hurled the can directly into Bodie’s face.
Bodie was surprised, but instantly glad it hadn’t been a knife or even a brick. He hadn’t seen it coming. Neither had Heidi. The Hood had made them and used the best weapon he could find on short notice. As Bodie staggered and tried to stop blood flowing from his nose, the Hood made a break for it, straight into a gaggle of passengers. To her credit, Heidi was straight after him, looking to give chase. Bodie struggled to hold his nose and wondered how well trained she was. The Hood threw passengers left and right, each one getting in another’s way. Heidi tried to skirt them but became entangled with an older man. The Hood burst out of the pack and ran toward the back of the buses.
Straight at Cassidy Coleman.
Bodie tried not to smile. Fortune had favored them then. The Hood saw his mistake almost instantly as Cassidy squared up to him and Gunn dropped behind. The Hood hit Cassidy head on, punching and kicking, and finding each blow cleverly blocked. Bodie forced himself into action, terribly aware they couldn’t let the Hood make any kind of call.
If anyone else was watching, they were already in deep trouble.
The Hood disengaged from Cassidy, weighing the redhead up anew. Bodie had seen it happen dozens of times. Men and women at the top of their game suddenly forced to re-evaluate their prowess.
The Hood came again, forcing her back. Bodie ran harder, now joined by Heidi. Together, they approached the scene. Cassidy deflected and counter-attacked, her blows striking with telling force. The Hood, seeming bizarre in his T-shirt and jeans and sporting a backpack, tried to find a true opening. As he spun he saw Bodie’s approach and broke off.
Cassidy went after him.
The Hood took three hard punches, went down and then rolled. Somehow, he managed to rise up and even Cassidy paused, amazed. People were everywhere, shouting, screaming, pointing. Some now digging out their android phones. Bodie thought that might spook the Hood more than anything given the secrecy in which his masters’ existence was held. The Hood backed away fast, quickly evaluating the scene. Turmoil filled his vision. Too many random outcomes and possibilities.
Bodie saw him place a hand in his pocket, probably flicking a key. “No!”
The man never showed a flicker of emotion, no doubt or anger or fear, no remorse, just turned on his heel and ran. Full speed, head down, showing them only the soles of his feet. He was getting the hell out of there.
Bodie turned to stare at Heidi. “He called it in! Now what?”
“Are you sure?” Gunn asked. “I didn’t see that.”
“Pretty sure,” Cassidy said. “Look at him go.”
The CIA agent stared at him. “We don’t belong here. We can’t—”
“Can’t what?” Jemma came running up. “Can’t save these innocent people? Fuck that.” She pulled out her gun, raised it into the air and fired three quick shots.
Pandemonium filled the bus station.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Baltasar knew it was coming. There was no stopping it. Minutes were a precious commodity, as he had no clear idea what chaos the masters would bring down. It would happen quickly. It didn’t matter which town, which city, as soon as they knew his route they would have arranged something within close proximity of every point all the way to his home; and then potentially all the way to their true headquarters. He had never seen the Grand Lodge so intense, so focused. Because of them, nobody was safe in the world today.
Except him, it seemed.
Baltasar backed away from the tussle, forced to recognize the higher ideal. The redhead with the muscles stared at him hungrily, causing a moment’s confusion. It was rare to see an opponent still standing after a skirmish, let alone wanting more. Baltasar had not seen it since the training ground and it made him slightly nostalgic.
A few more moments with her…
Strangely, the network of old wounds that crisscrossed his body began to itch. Baltasar forced himself away, using every ounce of will, and then ran, remembering he was relatively blind now and had no idea how many his enemies numbered. He raced away from the bus station.
It was coming. Three minutes gone, and time was short.
The backpack bounced; inside it the map, a relic his masters held in higher regard than every life on the planet. Peripheral vision caught the sudden onslaught of two more people — a young woman and an older man. Both looked in good shape and were wearing flak jackets underneath their clothing. That put them in league with the redhead and the others.
Baltasar saw no way past them, and no option to slow down. He truly had no idea as to the scope of the event that was coming. Directives said ‘get clear’. For those on the ground, in the thick of it, directives were occasionally a little vague.
Baltasar met the black-haired woman head on, dipped and let her slide over his back. Still, she managed to drive a knee into his thigh, causing the muscle to bark in pain. Another interesting contest. The older man came next, stance betraying a belief that he could hold his own in this battle but telling Baltasar he was no match. The Hood slammed an elbow at the face, then a jab to the chest, a spinning kick that sent his opponent crashing to the floor with a tremendous double bounce.
Baltasar didn’t stop for even a second. The bus station ended up ahead — a retaining wall dividing the passenger area from delivery bays and other distribution areas. Baltasar slowed and looked back as he reached the wall, intent on quickly evaluating the threat.
The things he saw, despite his training, would live with him forever.
All this mayhem to cover one person’s escape.
He saw a bus driven by a madman, grinning and animated at the wheel. He saw the speed at which it was going, the back tires skidding precariously out of control, the entire vehicle leaning to the right. He saw the arc of its journey, and its destination. He saw travelers spot it and run and scream; heard shots being fired by the men and women that’d accosted him, causing panic.
The careening bus struck the back end of one that was already parked, the fanatical driver standing up at the end, arms in the air and pumping. He wore a suicide vest. The aftermath would paint him in only one way.