Molokai was at her side, his bulk reminiscent of Kinimaka’s but also quite different. Molokai wore thick robes under a flak jacket, robes that shrouded his body and covered the underside of his face. There was no sign of the lesions underneath them. Molokai was a granite-faced, oversized figure, as intimidating as an island rising out of the Pacific and just as hard to beat down.
Opposite, sat Luther and Mai. They were a couple still finding their feet, drawn together by work and circumstance, though just recently Hayden had spotted a distant look fixed in Luther’s eye, as if he might have his focus on something else.
They were all fully tooled for combat. The Intel was that the Blood King’s Chicago team were holed up below ground in one of these car storage places, going over their final preparations. Grigori’s information had been solid so far. There was no reason to think this would be any different.
Hayden held on as the van came to a sudden halt. They were outside seconds later, police cars slewing all over the road at their backs, officers jumping out and clearing civilians out of the way. High-rise office blocks surrounded them. Colorful shops and eateries lined sidewalks crammed full of people. It was hard to believe that, under their very feet, a secret, subterranean world belonging to the mega-wealthy existed; even harder to believe a team of terrorists were using the same area as ground zero for the detonation of a small nuclear device.
That was the reason for the fear chewing its way from Hayden’s heart to her soul. There was no transporting this device. It was already in place.
She ran at the head of a fifteen-strong team, made up mostly of SWAT officers. They ran up a wide concrete ramp into a multi-story car park and then turned, heading for a discreet door to the left. Beyond that was a solid metal door requiring a keycard to open and, once through that, a glass booth where a guard sat. Right now, he watched in concern and amazement as the assault team raced past.
Hayden listened as a constant stream of information buzzed through the comms system.
“Eyes on the street . . . no movement.”
“. . . evacuating the area . . .”
“Grab that guard before he starts making stupid phone calls.”
It was that simple sometimes. A guard saw them, called his mom or best friend; such calls were being monitored by the bad guys and boom, the whole day went to shit.
Hayden led the way, at the head of an elite crew of men and women. The concrete passage sloped downhill for a while as it descended underground. When the slope leveled, they passed rows of what appeared to be small compact offices or resting areas. Ahead, Hayden saw the first level of the car park opening outward.
Among countless concrete pillars, lit by overhead halogens, sleek shape after shape appeared. Many were hidden beneath tight-fitting car covers. Some, like a green Aston Martin and a red Porsche, were exposed to the bright lights, their gleaming metalwork drawing her eye. She ignored them, moving forward, heading out into the parking garage.
Row after row of mostly covered cars marched away to left and right and straight ahead. There were dozens of them, if not hundreds. An eerie silence filled the vast gray void, a silence that would echo with every misstep.
Hayden slowed as much as she dared, treading lightly. Those behind her did the same. They formed two lines now; Luther leading the other. Many of these capable SWAT officers knew of Luther’s incredible reputation as a Special Forces hero and were in awe of him. Thus, with Luther following Hayden’s lead, they were in awe of her too.
Mai Kitano, the best of them all, followed in line.
They ducked below the roofs of cars which, since they were all about three feet high, wasn’t exactly easy down here. The odd stealth black G Wagon or gaudy chrome-colored Range Rover SVR helped ease Hayden’s back as they pressed deeper into the parking garage. They crouched and scuttled from the side of one car to another, working their way further in. Hayden felt the sweat running down her brow. Every time one of her colleagues slipped up and made a noise she stiffened, listening hard.
In the back corner, behind two covered Rolls Royces that looked like oversized barges in the dim light, she saw movement. The lights back there had been broken or unclipped. But a flashlight shone dimly, and shadows jumped on the far wall.
Maybe it was her frame of mind, but these shadows capered and danced like demons. Limbs elongated by the light reached up and outward. Heads were occasionally rectangles, becoming as pointed as a church spire. She saw fingers reaching out to touch unknown objects, their tips growing sharper as they stretched until turning into terrible knives.
Hayden ran from cover to cover, creeping closer. She could make out a table now, set up in the corner, but the men were seated with their backs to one of the Rolls Royces. She couldn’t see faces or figures properly or even make out how many there were.
On the table, rising prominently and blatantly about twenty inches high, was a silver container. Hayden removed a one-eye optical scope and focused in on it. What she saw on the side of the container was enough to make her shiver. A red and green button. A countdown screen. A lock.
She gave the attack order.
The fifteen-strong team rushed at the corner of the parking garage. Hayden went for the table, coming around the front of the Rolls. Others headed for the back. More zeroed in on the side, ready for whoever popped their heads up.
Unfolding before Hayden was the table, then a pair of knees and then a body, sitting with its back against the car.
“Five targets,” she said, counting.
They saw her. They rose, guns already in hand. One terrorist lunged for the nuke. Hayden shot him through the left ear. Her aim swiveled. Another bullet took out another terrorist in the act of aiming his weapon. She focused in on a third, but a SWAT officer had already come around the back of the Rolls and taken him out.
That left two alive.
Luther jumped across the hood of the covered car, leading with his feet, smashing his boots into the ribcage of the fourth terrorist. Mai was at his side, leaping over the meatier part of the car’s hood, bouncing, and then falling onto the fifth man. Luther’s opponent staggered back into the wooden table, which broke and splintered. The metal canister fell to the floor. Hayden dived for it and stopped it rolling, her heart hammering so hard she thought it might explode before the bomb.
Mai flung punches at her adversary, rendering him unconscious. Luther watched as his assailant smashed against the back wall and broke his neck, falling dead.
Hayden shook her head. They needed as many terrorists as possible alive. Luther spread his hands to show it wasn’t his fault. He was a big man with incredible strength. Hayden looked away, staring at the metal canister in her hands.
It wasn’t the worse outcome. They had captured the device and stopped any kind of detonation and they had secured one prisoner. She jumped up and handed the silver container to a member of the SWAT team that hurried it over to a bomb tech.
“Good job,” she said through the comms. “Well executed. It was a pleasure—”
But then a man’s apprehensive voice cut her off. “What the fuck is that?”
Hayden looked up, her gaze falling on the rest of the parking garage and the covered cars. Her heart froze in her chest.
God help us.
CHAPTER SEVEN
They came from under the covers, out of the spaces behind the parked cars. First, the covers twitched along the back wall. Then they lifted up, the thin material seeming to rise on its own. From under the covers came black-clad figures wearing full-face masks, appearing like the dark denizens of hell. There were dozens of them to left and right, all carrying guns and all clad from head to toe in unreflective black body armor.
Hayden fell to one knee, sighted and fired. She was the first to shoot. The enemy soldiers were the second. They lifted their weapons and opened fire on full-auto. Mai and Luther dived headlong off the hoods of the Rolls. Other SWAT officers scrambled for cover. Those caught out in the open were hit and sent staggering back.
Bullets smashed into the parked cars, perforating their covers, paintwork and shells. Tires were hit and deflated. Chunks of masonry exploded from the rear wall. The enemy advanced, still firing.
Hayden felt like a rabbit sitting in the glare of twin headlights. Bullets flew to both sides of her as she knelt at the center of the garage. Miraculously, none hit her. Her finger was on her own trigger, spraying lead at the attackers, taking them down. Three had been hit so far and were twitching on the ground. As she watched, more hellish figures appeared from behind the cars.
“What the hell is this?” Luther cried out loud. “Fucking Halloween?”
Hayden hesitated. Any movement either way could mean death. In the next second, Mai flew straight at her, tackled her around the waist, and pulled her behind a covered car that was low, sleek and long. They tumbled. Mai cried out as a bullet struck her vest. Apart from a grazed hand, Hayden was unharmed.
She turned to Mai. “You okay?”
“Just bruising.”
Hayden nodded. “Thanks for the assist.”
“You looked lost. Unsure.”
“I guess I was. I didn’t want to jump into the bullets.”
“Sometimes, it’s the only way.”
Hayden blinked, facing Mai. Their guns were in their hands. The surrounding noise was tremendous, gunfire interspersed with screams.
Mai met Hayden’s eyes. “Ready?”
Hayden nodded and shifted. At that moment a black-clad hand reached out from under the cover of the car she was resting against, grabbing hold of her gun arm. A body followed, scrambling out from behind the car. A masked man shoved her gun up in the air and punched her in the gut. A second man followed.
Mai fell on him, punching to the throat, the ears and the groin. He didn’t even groan; just went down like a sack of stones. Hayden struggled with her opponent, falling against the wall at her back. His right hand was reaching for a knife.
Mai slit his throat from behind. Hayden watched him collapse. A bullet impacted the wall at her back, sending debris into her left cheek, drawing blood. She dropped to the floor.
“Creepy bastards.” She breathed hard, trying to catch her breath.
“I’ve never seen anything like this,” Mai said.
“Agreed. But I do have the nuke.”
“Call in backup,” Mai said. “They can hit these guys from behind.”
Hayden keyed her comms and made the request. “Two minutes,” she said.
The garage resounded with gunfire. The entire SWAT team had heard Hayden’s call and were playing for time, shooting at the Blood King’s men from the cover of the parked cars, crouched behind rubber tires, stalling their attackers as best they could. Two attackers had reached the Rolls Royces. Luther had risen like an enormous cobra, arms out, grabbed one man around the shoulders, and hauled him over the car to the ground where he was quickly incapacitated. The other was taken out by a man lying on the floor, firing under the Rolls.
Hayden knew what could well be coming next. Grenades. She decided to act first and sent three explosives arcing high over the cars and into their attackers’ midst. She followed them with several flash-bangs and stun grenades. Explosions rocked the walls of the car park. Covered supercars shuddered and bounced under several impacts, their alarms filling the air. Two were torn apart, metal and carbon fiber fragments shooting through the air like arrows. A complex mix of dust and smoke billowed upward and outward. Hayden saw their attackers as nightmare shadows emerging out of the fog, guns in hand, death riding upon their shoulders. She flung herself to the ground as a volley of bullets flashed past her head.
From out in the garage another sound erupted. A message came through the comms. Take cover.
Their attackers were assaulted from behind by an assortment of CPD cops, spare SWAT officers and even an HRT team. Whatever it took.
Hayden took cover behind a rubber tire and an alloy wheel and listened to the sound of her enemies dying.
“If possible, take some alive,” she relayed.
Three minutes later, it was over. Hayden took a firm grip of the silver canister and raised her head. Mai was alongside her.
“We did it,” Hayden said.
“One nuke safely rescued,” Mai said, removing her helmet and retying her long black ponytail. “Best get on to G at the HQ.”
“I will.” Hayden switched channels on her comms system. The tension was palpable. Nobody here knew what had happened at the other nuke sites. For all they knew, the bombs could have detonated.
“We took them all down,” G explained with obvious relief. “All three. But there’s still no time to waste. You have to start the interrogations.”
Hayden pursed her lips. “Now?”
“Right there. Cordon it off. Get some empty space. We’re gonna conduct all three interrogations right now via combined video feed. It’s the fastest way.”
Hayden saw the cleverness of it. Everyone that knew about the new Blood King threat would be looped in, from the President to his advisors; and from the top police captains to Special Forces teams. In minutes, they could potentially gain a great deal of valuable information.
She looked over at Luther. The big American hauled his captive up and dragged him over to her. Eight seconds later two more captives were brought over, escorted by several SWAT officers. Hayden took a fourteen-inch laptop from a tech and placed it on the ground, before sitting cross-legged in front of it.
“We ready?” she asked.
“Five minutes,” an answer came back.
Hayden looked up at the three captives and then at Luther and Mai. Molokai had appeared and was waiting behind them, a mysterious bulk as frightening as any deep shadow that moved in the dead of night.
“Let’s make these assholes uncomfortable—” she motioned at the prisoners “—and ready to talk.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Drake watched closely as a plain clothes agent set up a laptop in the back of a SWAT van. Its screen was blank for now. A slowly spinning silver circle showed that it was attempting to mate with something, though Drake had no idea what. The feed? Another laptop? He didn’t really care so long as it worked.
He turned his head, looking down the length of the van toward the back door. Alicia had dragged two wounded captives inside. SWAT officers had pushed in one more. All three were bound and herded to the center of the vehicle. Guns were trained on them. They huddled together, heads down.
Drake was worried. He tapped the IT guy on the shoulder. “How many people are looped in on this feed?”
The guy’s name was Wrigley. He shrugged. “I’m seeing a wide, busy feed. Locations for Chicago and Philly. Others in DC—that’d be the White House and FBI building—and about nine others. It’s a big party.”
Drake didn’t like it and frowned. Before he could say anything, Alicia’s voice made him look up.
“You okay?”
He shook his head. “Switch to three.”
Three was a private channel. Alicia fiddled with her comms and then asked the same question.
“The net is too large,” he said. “We have everyone from Coburn to fucking Shakira looped in on the feed.”
Cam had joined them on channel three. “Who’s Shakira? Another agent?”
Drake couldn’t stop the smile. “I wish. But, hell, who’s Shakira, you say? How old are you, mate?”
“Older than you think.”
“I doubt it. But we’re asking for trouble here.”
Alicia shrugged. “Not a lot we can do about it now. Coburn must have vetted them all.”
Not necessarily, Drake thought. The President’s advisors didn’t always give the main man all the information. Many of them had agendas of their own.
“Who’s conducting the interrogation?” a SWAT officer asked.
Alicia cracked her knuckles and gave a grim smile. “Right here.”
Drake opened his mouth to speak but thought better of it. Alicia wouldn’t have spoken up if she didn’t fan
cy the job. Anyway, she had three chances to get it right.
A face filled the laptop screen. Drake was surprised to see President Coburn himself.
“I want to thank every officer, every responder, every man and woman that put themselves in harm’s way today. From me to you, your actions are valued.”
Drake studied the man he’d helped save at least twice now. Once from the clutches of Dmitry Kovalenko and once from the old Blood King’s son. A long time had passed since that first time—when they lost Ben and Romero and more. Even longer since they lost Kennedy Moore aboard the warship. The new iteration, Luka Kovalenko, had so far proven to be every bit as elusive and batshit crazy as his father.
The laptop screen split into three. Drake was pleased to see Hayden’s face and also Dahl’s before a fourth filled the last remaining square of the screen.
“This is Secretary of Defense Goldfein,” the man said. Drake recognized him as a new appointment, though he had no more knowledge of the man. “Due to the severe nature of this latest threat I authorize you to do whatever it takes, right now, to answer the following questions. One: where is Luka Kovalenko? Two: are there any other ongoing operations? Three: where are the other nuclear devices?”
Without further comment Goldfein’s face disappeared. The laptop screens shifted to show the few people standing around as the suspects were interrogated live.
Alicia dragged a bald-headed man wearing a black leather bomber jacket out of his group of three. She lifted him by the lapels and threw him backward against the side of the van. She was on him less than half a second after impact, punching to the abdomen and then the nose. Drake preferred that she’d started with the questions, but that wasn’t Alicia. She preferred to tenderize her meat first.
“You heard the man.” Alicia hissed, including all the captives in her comments. “First to answer gets a free ride. Where is Luka Kovalenko? Are there any other plans ongoing? Where are the other nuclear devices?”
The Blood King Takedown Page 4