Instead, he raced past Kovalenko and confronted the cops. One swung his gun but Kinimaka batted it away, sending it flying over the top of a passing car. Another aimed, but a wall of water, thrown up by a speeding truck, drenched the cop and sent him sideways, staggering and coughing.
Kinimaka faced two more. They were already pointing their guns at him. He backed away. Shawnasee, to her credit, wasn’t protesting. She’d clearly worked out the danger. Kinimaka backed away until he bumped into something hard—a normal event for him. But this time the impact was good fortune. He looked up and saw a stack of scaffolding above him, reached around and wrenched the bottom bars apart.
He stood with a bar in each hand, brandishing them at the cops.
“You gonna shoot me, or fight?”
The two men glanced at each other. “Oh, we’re definitely gonna shoot you,” one said.
Before he’d finished speaking, Mano attacked, sweeping one iron bar down with his right hand and swinging another with his left. The right blow struck a wrist, sending the gun flying; the left blow struck an ear, making its recipient stagger and cry out. Mano didn’t hesitate.
Still swinging the bars in both hands, he clouted the cops on shoulders, arms and thighs, alternating with a crisscross pattern, driving them back toward their cars. They staggered against the onslaught, guns forgotten.
The drenched cop was back in action though, shaking his surprise off and searching for his gun. As he reached down for it, Shawnasee fell upon him, striking him with the handles of her knives, to temple and throat, and then tripping him so that he landed on the back of his head.
The cop didn’t move again. He was unconscious.
That left one free cop. Shawnasee was already confronting him.
“Don’t do it,” she said.
She was a daunting sight, standing tall under the bright lights with her braided ponytail and Native American features awash with rain, both hands holding knives, her teeth bared. The cop hesitated but then squared his shoulders and struck out at her.
Shawnasee leaned away from his attack, letting his right fist pass her by, and then stepped in, lifted him off his feet and threw him to the ground. The cop yelled out in shock and pain, squirming. Shawnasee stomped on his sternum then his forehead. When he still struggled, she fell to her knees, grabbed his throat and choked him into unconsciousness.
The Blood King laughed at the spectacle.
Kinimaka finished battering his cops and left them folded into the space between the curb and the side of their car, half-covered by running gutter water. He dropped the scaffold tubes and ran back to Shawnasee.
“You okay?”
“I am.” The girl almost smiled at his concern. “Thank you.”
Kovalenko came between them. “Get moving.”
Mano checked the situation left and right. Strike Force were still huddled together, discussing something. He could see Hayden’s face pointed his way, her expression twisted in concern. There were no more Russians for now, and no reinforcements for the Blood King. Above, battling with the clouds, helicopters battered at the air, their engines as loud as thunder. Sirens wailed in the streets, their lurid lights splashing across the concrete facades of dozens of buildings. New York was a war zone, the hub of battle being kept under the radar. New York was an hour from oblivion, and most had no idea. Kinimaka wondered if President Coburn had any kind of contingency plan.
They ran another block before Kovalenko caught sight of his next bunch of men.
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE
Drake struggled with mixed emotions. The chase had already taken its toll—not to mention the nuke still on countdown—but when Kinimaka squared up to Luther in the street you could have knocked Drake down with a feather.
His first thought was to blink and focus again. It couldn’t be Luther. It couldn’t be Kinimaka. But it was and, alongside him, his entire team came to a halt when they should have been closing the gap and chasing the Blood King down.
“Did we enter an alternate universe?” Alicia rubbed her eyes.
Hayden was gawping. “What are those two idiots doing?”
The rain hammered down upon them, bouncing up off the sidewalks. People hurried by, their heels clicking and umbrellas waving. Drake thought thunder rocked the sky but then a helicopter passed overhead.
One thing was sure, if a man wanted to fly surreptitiously through New York, tonight was the night. A thought that gave Drake temporary pause.
Was that the Blood King’s plan?
No flights had been grounded because Coburn didn’t want the police ruling the air for the next few hours. If certain elements of the force could reach and attack Strike Force at ground level, they could do even more serious damage by air. Thus, the news choppers were still out; the rescue choppers were out – air ambulances and many others that Drake could see. Choppers filled with tourists getting a far better show than they’d bargained for on such a dismal day. Unspecified aircraft, full of figures who might be the FBI, ATF or specially selected members of the Army.
“Look,” Dahl said.
Drake noticed that the choppers were in fact veering away. “They’re leaving,” he said, watching the new activity.
“They must have closed the airspace,” Hayden said. “Makes sense.”
Drake pursed his lips. “The Blood Whacko won’t be happy. I got the feeling leaving the airspace open and the Army out was part of the plan.”
“Maybe he won’t notice,” Alicia suggested.
Drake gave her a doubtful look. “He’s crazy as bat guano, not thick as pigshit.”
“Mano!” Hayden cried out.
But the big Hawaiian didn’t hear her. He was engaged in some other lunacy, fighting Luther off and then running.
He was running with the Blood King and some black-haired woman.
Luther was on his knees staring after them.
Drake raced up to the bald American. “Have you two gone barking mad?”
Luther shook his head. “Yes . . . I mean no. Well, maybe.”
Hayden was next, skidding to a stop beside Luther and grabbing his collar in an effort to urge him to his feet. “This better be good.”
“It’s the opposite, I’m afraid. Kovalenko has abducted Mano’s sister and husband. He’s threatening to kill them unless Mano helps him.”
Drake heard the words as a crushing blow. Kono and Han were good for each other. Their future had been bright. Drake dreaded to think what kind of trauma this would put upon their relationship.
“Oh, crap,” Hayden was whispering, staring after Kinimaka. “Oh, Kono. Mano. I’m so sorry. I . . .”
“Come on,” Alicia said, stepping forward. “We can’t let them out of our sight.”
They darted across the road and gave chase. Suddenly, it seemed, the tables had turned. Now the Blood King was in charge even though he was on the run. He was free, even though a member of the Strike Force team was with him.
“Where does this leave us?” Mai asked.
Drake couldn’t even begin to answer. There was no positive reply. A stroke of luck might be useful about now.
It was Dahl who’d spotted Kinimaka leave the phone behind after firing three shots into the air. The eagle-eyed Swede rushed over to the black Samsung device and picked it up.
“It’s still active,” he said, pressing a button so it wouldn’t revert to the lockscreen.
“Perfect,” Hayden said. “Check the last called number.” She turned to Drake. “I’m calling the President.”
Five minutes later Coburn had everything he needed to get the White House staff on the case. Kovalenko had called a burner cell to let Mano speak to Kono. That burner was still active and traceable. Obviously, the people holding Kono and Han would be waiting for Kovalenko’s next call.
Hayden and then Coburn wanted to call Strike Force Six into action, but they weren’t close enough to Kono’s location. A nearby SWAT team had to be deployed to save her. Hayden ended the call with fear and trepidatio
n in her eyes.
“If anyone prays, now would be the time to do it,” she said. “SWAT are on their way.”
Dahl started off again, following Kovalenko a few hundred yards back and from the other side of the street.
“As soon as we get the call to say she’s safe,” Kenzie said. “We hit Kovalenko hard.”
“Oh, I’m gonna rip his fucking legs off this time,” Alicia growled.
They trotted through the rain, keeping pace with the Blood King. They saw Kinimaka and then the black-haired woman beat up four dirty cops with scaffold tubes. Kenzie and Alicia enjoyed it immensely.
“I didn’t know Mano could fight like that,” Alicia said.
“He took me by surprise,” Luther admitted.
Hayden remained quiet. So did Drake. The overarching anxiety was like a twenty-foot python tightening around his neck. At this very moment, SWAT would be attempting to save Kono. Now, Drake respected SWAT as highly as any law enforcement authority; they were the best at what they did and trained tirelessly. But, on days like these, things could go indescribably wrong.
Dahl pointed out the Blood King as he darted across the road, headed for some concrete steps that appeared to run up to the front door of an old building. Men were gathered around those steps and Kovalenko ran right up to them.
“His next gaggle of clowns,” Alicia said.
“Twelve at most,” Mai said. “No worries.”
They were anxious, waiting for news. Minutes passed. The Blood King went up to his men and greeted them. Drake noticed that Kovalenko’s bodyguard—the man named Spartak—was back, leading the gang.
They held back as the rain grew heavier.
Cars swept by, their tires swooshing past. Men and women shouted or laughed. Horns split the air. It was a normal, if miserable, day in New York. When Drake lifted his head, he saw skyscrapers towering over the city, both up close and distant, their lights strong and distant, some almost spelling out words by the random way they were lit. It was indeed a concrete jungle, spreading as far as the eye could see, imposing over everything that happened below, each skyscraper a towering sentinel lined by slick, dazzling windows and bright lights. Drake thought that New York was like a counterfeit reflection of itself in the pouring rain, offering a stairway to heaven for all those who looked up and strove and fought at midtown, and dark, wet puddles of misery to all those who walked her streets.
And then, above everything, they heard the sound of Hayden’s ringtone.
“Yes?” Her voice was hesitant, her eyes closed. “Did they save her?”
Drake didn’t breathe. His fingers were firmly crossed for Kono. He could tell by Hayden’s face that the news wasn’t what they wanted.
“Oh, shit,” she said. “Okay.”
She ended the call and looked up at the others. “Han’s in a bad way,” she said. “They beat him relentlessly. But Kono and the baby are fine.”
It was still a great relief. Drake would take good news wherever he could get it today. He focused on the group ahead.
“That means we can work our frustrations out on these guys then?” he asked.
“Damn right it does,” Dahl growled.
They ran together, bringing their weapons up. The surrounding people that noticed them—not as many as Drake would have thought—screamed and backed away, or ran. An enemy noticed them and gave the warning. Instead of standing their ground, Kovalenko ordered his men up the steps—Kinimaka included.
“Mano! She’s safe!” Hayden’s voice was lost in the grumbling of a passing truck.
Drake hit the steps, taking two at a time. A double-door at the top had the word Library carved in red lettering above it.
Alicia let out a low whistle. “My kinda place to fuck up.”
Drake burst through the double doors, gun aimed ahead. Men were fleeing at the other end of a window-lined corridor. He gave chase. Dahl was with him. Together, they closed in on the running men.
Drake glimpsed movement to his right, from beyond the glass window. He shouted a warning and dived. Seconds later, the windows were ripped apart by lead, shattering across his back. Drake rolled, lifted his gun up over the sill and fired back.
Dahl crawled to the end of the corridor, backed by Kenzie and Mai. Luther and Molokai joined Drake in firing blindly into the next room. Cam and Alicia watched their backs.
Hayden was calling Kinimaka’s cell, an incongruous and absurd gesture for the moment but a gesture born of love.
“Damn it,” she shouted. “I can’t get hold of him.”
“Maybe he’s on the other line!” Alicia shouted back, unleashing a volley at two men who’d followed them into the library, weapons in their hands.
Dahl rushed around the corner at the end of the corridor and shouted, “Clear.”
Drake and the others rose and joined him. They were in a small annex to the main library. Dark oak shelves lined the walls and almost touched the ceiling. Plush red carpets covered the floor. Men and women were lying on the floor, taking cover, some even now on their phones and taking pictures. Drake turned away and nodded to a far double door that read Main Library.
“Storm that fucker.”
They ran as a group, four abreast, and plunged into the library. The Blood King’s men were deployed among the shelves, taking cover. When the Strike Force team appeared, they emerged briefly, taking potshots at the team. Drake and Dahl plowed walls of lead into the books and shelves that protected them.
Men fell, dead.
But Dahl wasn’t finished. The Blood King was standing at the back of the library, beyond at least a dozen ten-foot-high stacks that ran in two rows down the length of the room. Kinimaka was in front of him for protection. They were looking back, hesitating, stopped in front of an exit door.
Dahl ran at the first stack and hit it like a sledgehammer striking a wall. It shook, it swayed, but didn’t budge. Without wasting a second, Dahl darted back and ran at it again. This time, the entire stack toppled, falling into the one next to it. That one fell too, smashing into the next, creating a domino effect. All twelve fell with a sound like monstrous thunder, paper and hardbacks flying, dust mushrooming up toward the ceiling.
Dahl lifted himself from the wreckage of the first bookcase.
Luther and Molokai were following his example with the second row of lofty shelving.
Drake saw men crushed, books surfing the floor in great piles, timber breaking and dust choking the air. He thrust out a hand to help Dahl climb to his feet.
“You mate, are a bloody animal.”
“Thank you.”
Kovalenko’s exit was blocked by the final bookcase, which had crashed down against it. Drake advanced up the aisle, picking his way through mountains of books and shelving.
Kovalenko shoved both Kinimaka and the black-haired woman in front of him. “Stop them or your families die.”
Drake saw the Hawaiian crouch, face set, preparing for battle. He certainly didn’t want to come up against the big man. “Dahl,” he said. “You go first.”
The Swede gave him a long-suffering stare and started to shout at Mano, but then Luka Kovalenko spoke up.
“Back off,” he said. “Back off, or I’ll make the call to kill his sister.” The Blood King’s face was warped with hatred.
“No you won’t,” Dahl shouted back. “Both Kono and Han have been rescued. They’re safe.”
There was a moment of pause, of shock and relief. Then, Kovalenko hunted through his pockets for his phone, cursing when he couldn’t locate it. Kinimaka whirled and leapt on him, stopping the Blood King from drawing a gun.
Seconds later, Drake and the others were at the Hawaiian’s side.
“She’s okay, Mano. She’s safe.” Hayden dropped next to him.
Drake pointed his gun at the black-haired woman. Kovalenko was snarling at them, promising hellfire. But he was back in custody.
“Hands up.” Drake waved the barrel of his gun at the woman.
Kinimaka sat back. “N
o, Drake. She’s with us. Kovalenko has her family too. We can’t let him communicate with anyone or he’ll order them to be killed.”
Drake lowered his gun, feeling sorry for the woman. Dahl wasn’t as quick to believe.
“Are you sure that’s the truth?”
The black-haired woman with the braided ponytail sheathed her knives and held her hands out. “Please,” she said. “He’s a monster. He made me do this. Please save my family.”
Kovalenko cursed and writhed. Luther smashed him over the head with his rifle until the hissy fit subsided. “Do you know where they are?”
“No. But he called their captors just before his.” She nodded at Mano. “Same phone.”
Hayden still had the phone. She made another call straight away as Luther and Molokai heaved the Blood King to his feet and prepared to vacate the library. Around the room, they could hear moaning and the scuffling of boots, signifying that not all of the Blood King’s men were dead. Drake wondered if they would stay low and regroup before launching another attack. It made sense . . . to him, at least, but before he could act Kovalenko rose once more.
“Open the airspace,” he hissed. “Get it open now.”
Hayden froze with the phone close to her face. “You’re crazy if you think that’s gonna happen.”
“I warned you—” Kovalenko began.
“I’m so tired of your arrogance.” Dahl stepped up until he was right in the Blood King’s face. “You are a self-important piece of shit. I can tell. I’ve met them before. And you never said anything about the airspace.”
Kovalenko ground his teeth, staring Dahl down. Drake could tell the Blood King was on the verge of something, swaying between decisions, and that Dahl was playing brinksmanship of the highest order.
“Why do you need the airspace?” Hayden asked, trying to defuse the tension.
Kovalenko shook his head but didn’t speak. Drake thought the Blood King was so infuriated that he couldn’t get his own way that his tongue just wouldn’t work.
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