It was a timely warning. It told them that the trucks would open fire indiscriminately in an attempt to kill the Blood King. Shaw took hold of him and pulled him away from the center of the street. Dahl and Luther ran toward the advancing vehicles, aiming their guns.
They came from either side of the road, one from the left and one from the right, out of narrow alleys where they’d been hidden and parked up. They were tall, their shells made of thick steel, their forward windows fully open to allow men with heavy-duty machine guns to aim out of.
Both trucks stopped and opened fire.
Bullets chewed up the asphalt. Spent shells rained to the ground. A trail of destruction stitched the road, first along the white lines and then veering in the direction that Shaw had dragged Kovalenko, chasing her, closing in, but not once did she flinch from her task nor let go of the Blood King.
Drake was on his knees in the street, staring through the rain at the corroded side of an enemy truck. He opened fire, punching bullets into its body. The truck driver didn’t react at first, but then Alicia joined him along with Mai, and the truck gave a great roar before jerking backward.
Dahl, Luther and Molokai concentrated on the second aggressive truck.
Drake ran toward Shaw, still firing at the truck. His bullets stitched a line across a side window, cracking the glass. A man leaning out of a rear door fell, crunching face-first to the asphalt. The truck reversed crazily, at speed, closing in momentarily on a nearby thirty-story building. Drake saw people with their faces pressed to the windows suddenly look terrified and back away. Its front end still faced Drake.
Could there be a better moment?
Shouting at Alicia and Mai, he sprinted toward the truck, seeing the driver’s face take on an almost comical look of disbelief as the prey turned into hunters. Drake opened fire, bullets glancing off the delivery truck’s steel shell. The truck rolled forward, about fifteen feet away. The driver was shouting orders. Drake closed the gap between them to ten feet.
He pulled up in shock when a man hefting an RPG stuck his head out of the window and loosed a missile. It seared the air to his right, shooting past him and striking a shop front on the other side of the road before exploding. The shop detonated, fire and wreckage shooting up into the sky. The force of the explosion upset the second truck and everyone in the road, who were knocked of their feet.
Drake rose and closed in on the first truck, sliding to the right and firing between his feet as he saw men jump out of its rear. He aimed for their shins and knees, seeing them collapse screaming to the ground, losing their weapons. Alicia was to his right, Mai to his left. Together, they shot everyone who jumped out of the truck, then rose to their feet and moved to the open back doors.
Drake leaned inside. A man fired at him. Drake ducked back and threw a stun grenade into the rear of the dumpster. It exploded in a flash of light, sending the shooter to his knees, hands covering his ears.
Drake jumped up into the truck and shot one man dead. The driver he killed by shooting through the forward partition.
He ran around the front and checked on the status of his friends. The second truck was under hard assault, its tires flat and its sides perforated. It had reversed ten feet before coming to an abrupt stop, its maneuverability hampered by the explosion, its gun-toting passengers pitching from side to side. As it came to a halt, its remaining tires blew out, making it list to the side and its doors flew open.
Attackers jumped out, guns firing.
Shaw had thrown Kovalenko behind a jeep and was already returning fire, her steady Glock taking out an enemy with the first shot, her second glancing off a man’s gun, destroying it and sending shards of metal into his face. Dahl and Luther were rushing the attackers. The rainy street lit up with gunfire, its bright lurid lights shuddering under the impact of steel, lead and dying men.
Drake settled himself into the driver’s seat of his newly acquired truck, checking the controls.
Alicia settled next to him. “This thing’s shot to shit.”
“It’ll get us three blocks,” Drake said. “It has to.”
Ahead, Dahl and Luther continued to assault the other truck, with Molokai backing them up. Mai jumped on the comms.
“We’re using the truck,” she said. “It’s our only chance.”
“Kovalenko’s men are coming.” Drake pointed to a side-street where a dozen running figures had appeared. “We can’t lose him now.”
If there was any good news it was that the entire street, for as far as he could see, was clear of civilians. People in the office buildings had seen sense and moved back or evacuated. Police lights flashed both far up ahead and behind as officers safeguarded the public. Still, above, there was nothing in the air and Drake wondered if the drones were still flying
He scanned the seat next to him, picked up a bloody machine gun and opened fire through the windshield. A line of bullets impacted the wall opposite, just a few feet above the heads of Spartak and his gang, sending them diving for cover.
In front of them, Dahl and Luther fought for control of the second truck.
The arrival of Hayden and Kinimaka helped, and then Kenzie came in from the blind side, taking the last two men out. Dahl was up into the driver’s seat immediately, settling himself behind the wheel. Luther took the seat at his side.
Drake nudged the gas pedal, making the truck roll forward. The beast protested but did as it was told, grinding and shuddering, its engine snarling in pain. The windshield hung in bits, practically destroyed. The seats were shredded with bullet holes. Mai was leaning through a hatch into the cab, an arm on each seat.
Alicia pointed at Dahl. “He’s ready.”
“Just a bit further,” Hayden said through the comms. “And we’ve less than twenty minutes to spare.”
Drake heard the stress in her voice and floored it. He didn’t take the truck too fast—there were abandoned vehicles to negotiate. As he drove north, he saw Dahl right behind him.
Together, the two battered delivery trucks cut through the maze of vacant vehicles, following Kovalenko’s directions and leaving his men behind.
Drake saw the bus ahead in plenty of time. It was the ravaged truck that didn’t respond fast enough. He fought the wheel, wrenching it to pull them alongside the tall vehicle after swiping the back end. In the side mirror he could see Dahl’s damaged truck so close it was almost pushing him along and, behind that, due to the almost empty sidewalks, he thought he could see Kovalenko’s men in pursuit. His foot responded by pressing down on the gas pedal.
Drake’s heart was in his mouth. His chest was tight. The speedometer had crept above forty. They drew clear of the bus.
“There is no doubt . . .” Drake gasped between breaths. “In my mind . . . that this heap of shit . . . is gonna crash, but I can’t slow down.”
Alicia went still. Mai rushed to the back to strap in. Drake guided the failing truck through a set of traffic lights, still weaving between abandoned vehicles, blinking when he heard Dahl’s voice in his ears.
“Get a move on. We’re right behind you!”
“Where are we going?” Alicia asked.
“Right there,” Hayden said unhelpfully at first. “To your right. The diner.”
Drake saw it and sighed with relief. He’d be happy to leave this crate behind. He started depressing the brake pedal, swearing at it to make it work, praying that the whole braking system hadn’t been destroyed. At that moment, out of nowhere, a rocket streaked from out of the shadows of a side street. It impacted with the truck’s rear and exploded. The truck swiveled as it slowed, raising its entire body up onto its driver’s side wheels. Drake felt the impact shoot from his fist to his shoulder.
To their left another RPG erupted from the shadows. This one smashed into Dahl’s truck, punching a hole through the back and swinging it around.
Drake braced as he was thrown against the seat belts, his entire body jolting once more, but finally the truck came to a stop.
Drake couldn’t hesitate for a second. They were sitting ducks here. He unbuckled and leapt into the back, following Mai out of the vehicle with Alicia at his heels. His gun was ready, his eyes seeking an enemy. To their left, Dahl’s truck was motionless, the hole in its side still smoking.
A moment later the side doors opened, and Molokai leapt out, followed by the others. Hayden was limping. Kovalenko was dripping blood. Drake hoped that it was his own. Dahl jumped down last, rubbing vigorously at his wrist.
Alicia stared at him. “Can’t believe you had time for a—”
Gunfire drowned out the rest of her sentence. Drake was watching the right; the shadows where he knew the RPG had shot from. When he saw movement there, he dropped down and started firing.
“Where’s the diner?” Alicia shouted.
Hayden pointed. “Right there.” It was no more than twenty feet away.
“How long we got?” Cam asked.
“Seven minutes.”
“Tick tock.” The Blood King growled.
Drake grabbed him, motioning Shaw to the left side and Cam to the right. Molokai hurled two explosive grenades over the top of his crashed truck. Dahl and Kenzie aimed an unyielding wall of lead into the shadows to the right, pinning down or killing the RPG shooters.
Drake stared at the diner.
“Straight through the front doors.” He yelled. “Don’t stop for anything!”
As one, the Strike Force team abandoned their cover and ran for the diner.
CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE
From out of the diner’s doors came half a dozen armed men.
Drake cursed and slowed, but Kovalenko kept running hard. Drake had to drag him back, almost pulling the man off his feet. The new enemies before them were led by Spartak. Weapons were raised but then Kovalenko started shouting.
“Move! Move! Get out of the fucking way unless you want to melt in the next five minutes!”
Consternation and confusion struck his men. They didn’t know what to do. Drake didn’t slow. He hit them hard, gun first, smashing two out of the way. Shaw slashed two more on the right, making them bleed and flinch away. Spartak was the only man that obeyed the Blood King—he stood aside and let the entire Strike Force team through. Even then Kovalenko crashed into him, the two entangling before Drake dragged the Blood King away. When a craggy faced man ignored the Blood King’s order and squared up to Drake on the other side of the doorway it was Kovalenko himself that swung his forehead into the man’s face, breaking bone.
Drake dragged their nemesis out of the rain and into the diner’s dry warmth. The place was new-looking and fancy, its booths a mix of bright red and dark oak, its counter a red swirl, its rear walls painted black. Coffee machines and waffle makers stood behind the counter, drawing Drake’s eye. Half eaten meals sat on the tables, drawing Kinimaka’s.
Drake shook the Blood King. “Where is it?”
Kovalenko nodded at a swing door. “Kitchens.”
Hayden checked the time. “Oh, fuck me.”
Drake pushed at Kovalenko, but he needn’t have bothered. The Blood King was running for the kitchens. That, as much as anything, made Drake’s heart sink through the floorboards. He ran after the Russian, his stomach churning and rolling with acid.
“Three minutes,” Kinimaka said.
Drake hit the double doors a second after Kovalenko. I hope to God they put it somewhere sensible and not under a foot of fucking concrete.
Behind them, Spartak and the Blood King’s men tried to crowd in through the diner’s door. Mai and Luther expended a volley of lead to keep them at bay. Drake skidded to a halt at the center of the kitchen as the Blood King pulled up.
“Where?” he panted.
For the first time, Kovalenko looked genuinely concerned. “How long do we have?”
“One hundred and fifty seconds,” Kinimaka said.
“Where is it?” Drake asked.
“Up there. But we don’t have time to reach it.”
Drake looked to where the Blood King was pointing. An air vent sat near the top of the wall, its silver frame stained from cooking fumes. Dahl was up there in less than a second, jumping onto a counter and reaching up for the frame.
The Swede pulled the vent away from the wall with his bare hands, bending the slats, his fingers bleeding. He threw it away and then reached inside, drawing out a heavy, wide silver container resembling the one they’d found earlier at Madison Square Garden.
Dahl couldn’t hold it in one hand and stay balanced. It was too heavy. Mai leapt up to help, both of them now poised on the worktop. From somewhere, Drake heard a crack. Dahl pulled the container free of the vent and handed it down to Luther.
The American placed it on the floor and looked up at Kovalenko. “Deactivate it!”
“Seventy seconds,” Kinimaka said.
The Blood King stared at the device, fear written plainly across his face. “It takes over a minute to deactivate. There are three different codes to enter, all of which have to be accepted by the inbuilt mini-computer.”
“Sixty seconds,” Kinimaka said.
Drake kicked Kovalenko behind the knees, making him fold to the floor. His nose glanced off the nuke, making Luther wince. Kovalenko reached out, turned the silver canister, and pressed a hidden button. A small door slid back, revealing a keypad and a black screen.
Kovalenko input a ten-digit code.
Drake’s attention was focused on the Blood King. Nothing else filled his senses, not the harsh, exhausted breathing of his friends, the smell of blood and tension, the rumbling flames that consumed the helicopters outside, the approach of police cars and SWAT vans, the sound of Alicia ordering Spartak to surrender. The canister’s computer took several seconds to accept the first code and then asked for a second.
“Thirty seconds,” Kinimaka whispered fearfully.
Kovalenko was right. They weren’t going to make it.
Drake stared as the Blood King input a second code and then waited. An age later, the computer accepted it and asked for a third.
“Ten seconds,” Kinimaka breathed.
Drake looked away, searching for Alicia. Kinimaka was close to Hayden and grabbed her hand. Luther and Mai weren’t even there for the end – they were busy guarding the perimeter. Cam and Shaw retreated into a corner. Molokai didn’t move, just crouched in front of the canister as if he could suppress the blast with his robes.
Dahl and Kenzie were in separate rooms, as alone as they’d always been.
The Blood King finished inputting the final code. The machine whirred. The canister grumbled. There was a sudden flash. The Blood King fell back.
“Three . . . two . . .” Kinimaka closed his eyes.
We failed, Drake thought.
“One.”
The explosion, when it came, almost blinded Drake. It was so loud it overwhelmed his senses, driving him to the ground. The white heat spread from the nuclear device, enveloping everyone, searing their flesh from their bones, dissolving them into atoms, wiping them from the face of the earth.
Except that, it didn’t.
Drake was shocked to realize that he was on his knees but still breathing. A terrible ringing was in his ears, making him see double. He couldn’t understand anything, could barely think. Other figures crawled around him, unsteady and breathing shallowly. There was a thick mist, the nauseating stench of sulfur, and a strange feeling of unreality.
I’m alive?
Drake felt rather than saw the kitchen’s double doors swing open. An errant thought: Shouldn’t they have been blown apart by the blast? ran through his mind before Alicia’s distant voice barely reached his ears.
“Did we win?”
It was an absurd question, but at the same time it wasn’t. The bomb had exploded—everyone heard it and, to some extent, were affected by it. But they were far from dead. Drake could feel his equilibrium returning already.
Even more so when Alicia dropped to her knees at his side and pulled his head up. “Drakey?”
“I’m okay, I think,” he replied through the intense ringing in his ears.
Others were starting to sit up. Kinimaka and Hayden were on their knees. Molokai was coughing. Cam and Shaw, who’d been at the back of the room, were walking forward.
Luther was the first to voice Drake’s growing realization. “If I didn’t believe my own words, I’d swear that was a stun grenade.”
Drake crawled over to where Kovalenko lay, grabbed the man’s legs and hauled him across the floor. The Russian’s face twisted into a quick grin. In one hand he held the canister up in the air for all to see.
“You think I’d risk killing myself?” he spluttered. “Spartak sent men to disarm the device thirty minutes ago and slipped me a stun grenade when you forced me into the diner.” The Blood King was coughing and spitting and laughing at the same time. He couldn’t control his mirth.
“It was worth it. Even the fact that my ears are bleeding is worth it, just to see your reactions. To see you now. It is so deliciously insane and delightfully perfect. I love it.”
“All this?” Hayden exclaimed as she gasped for breath. “Twenty blocks of sheer hell just so you could set off a fucking stun grenade? And I bet that’s not even a nuke.”
“Oh, it’s definitely a nuke,” Kovalenko said. “Deactivated, for now.”
“But why?”
“To get here. To get to this place . . . right now . . . with you. And with Coburn.”
“But Coburn’s not here,” Hayden said.
Drake wanted to punch the madman into oblivion but something in the way his tone changed stopped him. The nuke was deactivated but . . .
What else was afoot? And why did Kovalenko want them all here . . . now?
He didn’t have to wait long to find out.
CHAPTER THIRTY SIX
It should have been a happy moment. A victory.
But Drake sensed the Blood King was far from finished. In fact, Drake believed that he’d allowed himself to be captured just to be here, at this exact place in time.
“Surely you didn’t force the old Russians to try to kill you?” Hayden asked.
The Blood King Takedown Page 18