Except Palladino. He was game. Game for anything. She ignored him, knowing the future and a necessary all-destructive path. Now Callahan pushed the vehicle up to the rear of their quarry, this time staying as much as possible to the left and slightly blind-side, much to the grumbled annoyance of their co-driver.
When it happened, it happened fast. Mullholland dropped hard, and relatively open, unobstructed views spanned their horizons; the van driver must have seen the waiting road block. He jammed on, anchoring the truck so hard its back wheels slewed.
Bodies flew backwards, striking walls and wooden crates. A man appeared creeping over the top, hanging on for dear life, but as the truck slowed, producing a machine gun so powerful it required rolls of bullets to maintain its high-velocity rate, and fired bullets that could chew up a truck in under a minute.
Callahan bellowed in surprise and swerved right. The gun rang out, deep, heavy, like Satan’s jackhammer. Karin rolled with the truck, bent her aim and angle, and zeroed in on the shooter. One shot and he was airborne, the gun toppling, the man winging it down toward the valley bottom.
“Blake,” Callahan muttered. “I don’t ever wanna let you go.”
Palladino tapped her shoulder. “You get one?”
“Yeah, just one.”
“Lame.”
Karin barely heard the comment, concentrating now on what was happening up front. Somehow the rearguard had gotten wind of what was waiting for them — Karin could tell because all of a sudden they became intensely agitated. Weapons were fed through to the front cab and others distributed amongst those in the back. Without thinking, without aiming, they opened fire, panic setting their minds alight.
“This is gonna be so bad,” Callahan moaned, twisting the wheel so violently the truck again tipped up onto two wheels. Karin winced and waited, but in the next second rubber touched asphalt again and they were back to bouncing along. A bullet clanged off the framework of an already shattered windshield.
“Any ideas?” Callahan said.
“An RPG would be nice,” the co-driver said.
“Ram ’em.” Karin could see no other options. “Ram ’em before they hit the barrier.”
Palladino gave her a pat on the back. “It’s like you read my mind, Blake. I’ll give you that much.”
Karin held on. Callahan forced his right foot down hard, surging forward, straight into the back of the gunrunners’ vehicle. The driver lost control.
The back end swayed and listed. Men fell from the open space like lemmings over a cliff. A stray, crazy bullet entered their cab and smashed through the roof above Karin’s head, the jagged metal it left briefly smoking. This time their quarry’s vehicle heaved up and then toppled onto its side, crashing down with a force of a mountain and then scraping diagonally across the road.
Karin saw Callahan stamping on the brakes and immediately turned, grabbed some guy ropes and started to make her way toward the back doors.
“Ready!”
The truck ground to a halt, momentum causing it to roll a little, then Karin pulled the silver handles that unlocked the rear. Sunlight flooded the space, glaring. She jumped down onto the hot surface, bent her knees and then twisted, staying low.
Men littered the road behind her, cop cars pulling up alongside. Weapons lay scattered from verge to verge. Around the side she crept in fluid motion, sighting along her rifle. Palladino watched her back.
They approached the broken and shattered vehicle with caution. A tattooed man lay in the back amid crates, unmoving; another crawled on his knees, probably unaware of which way was up.
When Karin saw a gun vaguely waving their way she potted its owner, putting the man out of his obvious misery. Cops ran down from the cars and up from the blockade, lending help.
The trainees picked among the wreckage, dragging the living into the open and binding their hands and legs. Karin watched Callahan on the radio and saw the grim curl of his lips. The outcome was immaterial if someone wanted to make an issue of this.
Someone responsible. Someone in charge.
Any incident could be finessed to further a white collar career. Karin knew she was close to where she needed to be with her training and didn’t particularly need the rest. But it would still be good to get it under her belt, and good to have the extra weeks to prepare. After that, she’d have all the intellectual and physical skills she required to hatch—
Palladino nudged her. “We did good, Blake. Well done back there.”
She couldn’t help but stare. “We, Dino? We?”
“Hey, we’re a team. Thought you knew that.”
We’ll see what you say when the recriminations start.
CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
Unlike many places he had visited, Drake found Dubai to be exactly as he’d imagined. Colossal airport with heightened security, rank upon rank of limo drivers brandishing cards emblazoned with people’s surnames or flight operators. Broad walkways where passengers could feel relaxed rather than shoved along in a tide of humanity, and a duty free shop to end all.
“Y’know,” he said. “I could just as well spend the night here.”
Alicia flicked him a glance. “Eh, saucy. They have rules about that kind of thing in the Middle East.”
“That’s not what I meant, love. A guy could actually get lost in here.”
Beau pointed out just a few of the hidden cameras. “I am sure they would find you.”
Hayden hefted her carry-on. “Which should tell you all to keep your heads down and get a move on. We don’t want some eagle-eyed airport employee tagging us all together.”
The Frenchman looked a little aggrieved. “Well, it is not me they will recognize, I assure you.”
“Nah,” Alicia coughed. “It’s the ‘extra package’ you got in your trunks. Ha ha.”
Hayden couldn’t help but smile. Drake leaned in close to Alicia. “Love, it’s a little off-putting when you talk about your old boyfriend’s knob right in front of your new boyfriend. Just so you know.”
Alicia battered her eyelids. “It is? Oh, well.”
Drake sighed. “Yeah. Good talk.”
Outside, the heat struck them immediately and everyone removed their jackets. Drake took a look at the group and broke out into a smile. After so much military work he’d gotten used to seeing everyone in combat gear and now it felt wrong to see Alicia in jeans and a T-shirt, sporting a thick rainbow bobble, Hayden wearing three-quarter baggy pants and the incongruity of a gold watch, Mai dressed in a flowing black dress with slits up the sides, and Beau in formal wear. For himself he’d gone for the Yorkshireman’s uniform of choice: T-shirt and jeans, a black military watch — Chase Durer for the rugged quality — and brand new white trainers. The team had already made a play of shielding their eyes every time he walked ahead of them.
A taxi whisked them away from the airport, its size and shape still capturing Drake’s attention. Soon they joined traffic and saw familiar shaped hotels on the horizon, and famous shapes, rows of restaurants, car showrooms and local stores along the side of the highway. Drake wasn’t surprised to see much of the local fare was interspersed with well-known American names — Wendy’s, McDonalds and more.
The Burj Al Arab appeared and flitted off to their right, a little misty in the distance, its sail-like appearance unmistakable even in a city stippled with splendorous vistas. The road meandered lazily before them.
Their driver half-turned and spoke in good English, “Is the temperature okay for you? Not too hot?”