The Finish Line r5-5

by Cliff Ryder

  Jake bowed slightly from the waist and motioned toward the door with his hand. "I'm yours to command."

  "Well, yeah, that is the idea. Just let me change and…" The insistent trill of the computer brought Kate back to reality, freezing her in midstep.

  "Is our chariot turning back into a pumpkin?" Jake's face showed no trace of a smile.

  Against her will, Kate sank back down into her chair. "Just a minute — maybe it's something that can be dealt with quickly." She slipped on her headset and connected. "This is Primary."

  A twenty-something kid with green hair and several piercings dotting an eyebrow, ear and lip appeared on the screen. "Primary? This is Autom8. I got a line on your dead merc."

  Turning the rest of her body toward the screen, which had her full attention now, Kate waved Jake off with one hand.

  "Subject is — or was, rather — one Jordan Tancreo, formerly of Rio de Janeiro, Brazil." The man's picture appeared in a split screen next to the hacker's metal-decorated profile. "Former army military sergeant, then a police officer below the equator, but he apparently decided neighborhood bribery and shakedowns weren't enough for him, so he went for the big time and joined Mercury Security, Inc."

  Kate leaned in. "You're sure about that?"

  "Employed with the company for two years before his untimely demise."

  Kate drummed her fingers on the desk. What does this mean? Was it pure coincidence that Terrence Weatherby, who had spoken to her at the conference yesterday, had no idea who she really was? Or did he? After a moment, she dismissed the thought. Paranoia is a way of life in this business. These two events had to be connected only by the merest of coincidences. However, she couldn't have been handed a better way to investigate them…

  Kate moved the microphone away from her mouth. "Rain check, Jake — I've got something here I have to follow up on."

  With a silent nod, he ghosted out of the room while Kate turned back to the monitor. "Good work, Autom8." She didn't pause at his online handle — Kate had been dealing with various hackers for far too long to be amused or concerned at their unusual idiosyncrasies. "Get me all current data on the company."

  "It's uploading now for you, both public and private data. They seem to be having some cash-flow problems lately."

  "That would explain their trolling for business at the convention. Great, this is great. Keep digging, but be sure to stay out of sight."

  The hacker recoiled as if she had slapped him. "Naturally."

  "Right, no offense." Kate winced — sometimes her intensity about the job could be taken for brusqueness.

  "None taken. Autom8 out."

  Kate disconnected and leaned back for a moment, weighing possibilities. Making her choice, she hit a key on her computer's speed-dial directory, listening to the phone ring.

  "Hello?"

  "Samantha, this is Kate." There was an odd kind of echo on their connection that Kate couldn't figure out. "Where are you?"

  "I'm standing in the entryway of your suite."

  Kate pushed back from her improvised office to see Samantha, her face pale, standing right next to Jake, who was holding her long cashmere coat. He shrugged and disappeared into the adjoining bedroom.

  "Well, I guess we don't need these anymore." Kate took off the headset and waved her in. "What's going on?"

  Samantha slid the recessed door closed behind her. Taking a small device from her pocket, she quickly swept the room for bugs, even going over Kate and her computer. She then attached it to the window and pressed a button, making the device emit a faint, high-pitched whine that vibrated the window ever so slightly. "Okay, we're clean. What I have to tell you cannot — cannot— go beyond this room. Do you understand?"

  Kate slowly closed her laptop. "Samantha, you know I can't give you that assurance. If this is really that sensitive a matter, then perhaps I'm not the one you should be speaking to."

  Samantha walked in and sat on the sofa. "That's the issue at hand, since this does involve the current mission. It's just — there's a particular aspect of it that is of vital importance to the security of Great Britain — and America, as well."

  Kate mulled it over for a second. "All right. Tell me what's happening, and let's see what we can do about it. Would you like something to drink?"

  "No, my digestion is already in knots as it is." Samantha brushed back her hair and continued. "Here's what I can tell you. It is imperative that we recover that woman who escaped the Wyvil house, and any data storage devices she has on her."

  "Okay, we're working on that. May I inquire as to the sudden paramount leap in her importance to your government?"

  Samantha actually glanced at the door before speaking. "Yesterday, the headquarters at MI-6 was infiltrated on-site, and our computer system was broken into from the inside."

  Kate had been prepared for anything but that. "My God, I thought the new headquarters building was impregnable."

  "So did the architects and builders. The hackers found an old, abandoned sewer pipe that ran exactly where they needed it — from Wyvil Road. They broke through and were able to access the mainframe undetected. It seems they used a backdoor — even though we were sure we had eliminated all of them. We're still getting an idea of the damage, but it appears that they might have our entire playbook — classified information, agents in place, everything. If word of this got out, you can imagine the black eye it would give the department. I can see the headlines now — MI-6 Can't Even Protect Its Own Headquarters."

  Kate's mind whirled as she absorbed the magnitude of the news. "Not to mention the damage caused in the intel community if any of the data is leaked to the public. I can think of dozens of organizations that would pay handsomely for even a fraction of what those files contain."

  Samantha nodded. "Exactly. Long-term operations scuttled, deep-cover agents blown, informants exposed. It might set law enforcement back a decade or more worldwide. There are terrorist and crime rings around the world who would love to know just what we know about them. No matter what, that woman — and every bit of stolen data — must be recovered."

  "We're doing everything we can at the moment. I assume that MI-6 has scrambled everyone they have to work on this?"

  "Every available officer is scouring the city for her. That's another thing — there may be cross fire if the Midnight Team runs into anyone from MI-6. They're under orders to consider anyone attempting to approach or assist her as an immediate threat, and to capture or neutralize them using whatever methods are available. Even she is expendable, as long as the data is recovered."

  "Understandable. I'll let our boys know. If MI-6 gets to her first, we'll break off our pursuit. If we get her first, we'll arrange a handover as soon as possible," Kate said.

  Samantha took a deep breath. "Kate, with what I've just told you, does that change your mind in any way about using the Midnight Team?"

  "I have the utmost faith that they will be able to get the job done, even with this new wrinkle. Our teams have not failed in executing an assignment yet, and despite what others have been saying, I'm counting the Wyvil Road operation as a win. I expect this one will be no different."

  "I hope you're right." Samantha rose. "I've got to head back — they've pulled me in to consult on this. I'll do what I can to keep you informed."

  "Check in whenever you can. If anything breaks on our end, you'll be the first to know after me." Kate got up with her and walked Samantha to the door. "Don't worry, with all of us on the job, she won't get away."

  "Yes, but more operators in an area also means a higher chance of something going wrong," Samantha said.

  "Then we'll just have to do our best to make sure that doesn't happen. Stay in touch, and good luck."

  "You, too."

  Like a silent butler, Jake appeared to help her on with her coat. Samantha flashed a wistful smile at both of them, then let herself out.

  "I take it that wasn't a social call," Jake said.

  "Not in the slightest." Ka
te's computer chimed yet again. "Damn, when things happen, they really happen fast." She crossed the room to the computer and stabbed a key. "Yes?"

  "Primary, this is NiteMaster. I have a fix on your target with a seventy-eight percent chance of accuracy."

  Kate sank into her chair again. "Where?"

  "You're not gonna believe this, but…" a photograph popped up of the outside of the house on Wyvil Road, and of the crowd surrounding the police vehicles "…she actually went back to the scene of the crime." The picture zoomed in on a woman in a baseball cap, denim miniskirt and leggings, with a laptop case over her shoulder. Although she was watching the police work with the rest of the crowd, she also did her best to keep her head down and face away from the news cameras. "When she left, she forgot to keep herself covered, and a watch camera on the next block got a good front-on shot."

  He showed the ball-cap-clad girl next to the grainy shot of the woman they had obtained from their specialist on the Midnight Team. She had cut her hair, and her clothes were completely different, but the face was the same, albeit happy in the first picture, and haunted in the second.

  "That's her, all right. How are you doing following her trail?" Kate asked.

  "She's good, I'll give her that. She crossed into several areas that weren't covered by surveillance programs, so there are gaps in our coverage. However, using the general timeline, as well as the average walking speed of a five-foot-eight female…"

  Kate cut him off. "NiteMaster, I don't need to know how, I need to know where she is now."

  The hacker blinked as if being brought back to reality from his virtual version. "Oh, right. Anyway, using a spiral search correlated with the time-stamp data, I found her outside a hotel near the St. Pancras railway station this morning. She's a blonde now, by the way, and I last spotted her coming out of a coffee shop near the train station."

  "Fantastic." Kate was already dialing. "See if you can locate a more recent sighting, and also watch for tickets being bought within twenty minutes of that time to Paris, and the name of each purchaser — we might be able to get a name out of this. Great work."

  "Thanks, I'll let you know if I find anything more. NiteMaster out."

  Kate's call was answered on the first ring. "Go for M-One."

  "This is Primary, we have a lead. St. Pancras Station. Must warn you that locals are involved."

  "MPS?"

  "Government."

  "Mmm. Just have to watch our steps even more, then. Will report in when we are on-site. M-One out."

  "Primary out." Kate disconnected and sat back, rotating her shoulders to relieve some of the tension that had tightened them into knots. She kept a careful watch of the time, waiting to tick off the seconds. When five minutes had elapsed, she dialed a familiar number.

  "Hello, Samantha. Yes, we just got something. Our target has been sighted near St. Pancras Station…"

  12

  Marlene quickened her pace as she approached the St. Pancras Station, barely glancing up at the refurbished building's Italian gothic facade with its new, ornate clock tower that was currently tolling eight o'clock. She hurried past the bustling rows of brand-new retail shops, cafes, bookstores and bakeries that catered to the commuting and tourist crowd in the packed station. Thousands of travelers flowed to and from the neighboring King's Cross Station, as well as catching or getting off trains heading to Scotland, the East Midlands, Sheffield, Yorkshire and elsewhere.

  And of course, there was also the Chunnel rail link, which allowed a passenger to step onto a single high-speed train in London and step off in Paris. If all went well, that was exactly what Marlene planned to do.

  She got in line and nervously counted her money — a little over two hundred pounds at the moment. Once she got a ticket, she'd still have to cool her heels at the station for fifteen minutes until the train was ready for boarding. First things first, she thought, concealing her nervous impatience as the line inched forward. At last, she got to the ticket window, and even though it cost more than she would have liked, she secured her seat — the last one in her traveling class — on the eight-thirty train departing for Paris. If she'd had more cash, she would have bought several tickets to different destinations, hoping to confuse anyone monitoring the system. But getting out of the country was the most important goal at the moment, so she had to take the direct route and hope she was still ahead of her pursuers.

  Now all she had to do was sit and wait inconspicuously until the train was ready for boarding. Marlene found a bench under the Barlow train shed, which she had read about in the Times having suffered from cost overruns during its restoration. All looked fine now, with new steel framework supporting clear Plexiglas panels that let in the wan English sun. Marlene tried to at least appear as if she was enjoying the morning, but she couldn't help glancing around her, trying to see everywhere at once. Stop it, you only look more suspicious, she thought as she leaned against the back of the bench, trying to blend with the commuting crowd once again.

  The announcement to board the London-to-Paris train echoed from the loudspeakers, jolting Marlene into alertness. She pushed off the bench, making sure her laptop case was secure, and walked down the platform, keeping a wary eye on anyone who looked to be taking any sort of interest in her. She saw the doors only a few yards away. Just a few more steps, and she'd be safe…

  Marlene felt a hand grip her arm at the same moment something needle-sharp pricked into her back.

  "Just keep walking right on past those doors," a tony British voice said in her ear. "We're going to keep going for a few more steps, then you'll stop as if you forgot something, and we'll retrace your steps and walk right out of the terminal. Any attempt to resist me will be met with a painful deterrent." The point of the knife jabbed her rib cage to emphasize the instructions.

  Marlene tensed, then forced herself to relax and keep moving with him. "Are you from Mercury?"

  "Let's just say my employers are very interested in talking to you about an item of ours that you have in your possession. All right, we're going to stop in the next few steps."

  While he spoke, Marlene had been looking around for what she needed. Up ahead, she saw him — a uniformed Metropolitan Police officer patrolling the platform a dozen yards away. She whirled around, pushing the laptop case between herself and her captor to not only break his hold, but also to keep the case between his blade and her body. Before he could grab her again, she picked up the laptop case by its handle and shoved it into his face, knocking him off balance, while screaming.

  "Help, police, he's trying to kidnap me! Help, police!"

  The effect was immediate. The uniformed officer turned and began trotting toward the scuffle. At the same time an unremarkable man who had been waiting for a nearby train dashed up and tackled the man, sending his blade skittering across the floor.

  "Knife, he's got a knife!" Blowing a whistle, the uniformed cop piled onto the melee, and the three men fought and cursed as they wrestled each other. Marlene looked around, fearful that the scuffle had attracted too much attention, but other than a few passersby stopping to stare while giving the struggling, swearing men a wide berth, the platform was still fairly clear. She edged toward the platform, willing the doors to open as if she could pry them apart by her desire to escape alone. For some reason the train still wasn't ready, and she glanced at the main entrance one more time, and that's when she saw them.

  Two men, one a lean, blond-haired man with an alert, wary gaze and a slightly hunched posture, as if he was hiding something in his Windbreaker that Marlene certainly didn't want to know about. The other man was pure predator, scanning the crowd with measured sweeps of his gray eyes, his dark brown hair cut short to his skull, his stance alert, ready.

  Their gazes met, just for an instant.

  Although Marlene had never seen either man before, she knew they were there for her.

  13

  "Damn it, of all the times to catch the morning traffic! There's got to be a faster way o
ver there than this!"

  Although David usually wished Robert would just shut the hell up, this time he couldn't help agreeing with the wiry Welshman. Even with the congestion-charge plan introduced in central London a few years ago, the morning traffic was still as thick as the city's legendary fog, with the bumper-to-bumper crawl trapping them on Gray's Inn Road, still a half mile away from their destination.

  "Isn't there a quicker way than this?" David asked.

  "Yup." Cody swiveled in his seat. "Kanelo, you're with David as Team One. Tara and Robert, Team Two. Get out and get up there. I'll stay in touch via cell. If all goes well, by the time I get up there, one of the teams will have spotted her and made contact. Try not to cause a scene — just get her out of the station quietly. I'll meet you by the front entrance. If anything strange goes down, report it immediately."

  "What if the other shooters are there?" David asked.

  "If any fireworks start, defend yourselves or the target only — do not intervene if other civilians get in the line of fire. Also, we know that MI-6 is on the hunt, as well — so be careful and do not engage them if at all possible. Team One, get out at the next intersection, cut up one, then move over to the station. Team Two, you'll go at the next light, head down one block, then come up the back way. Stay alert and watch for trouble. Team One, you're up."

  Robert's eyebrows waggled up and down. "Looks like it's you and me, girlie. Hey, Kan, bet you a tenner we get to her first."

  David caught Tara's eyeroll in the side mirror. The tall black man loosened his sport coat and put his hand on the door, ready to move.

  The SUV lurched forward, then just as quickly came to a halt. "Team One, move out."

  David pushed his door open and stepped out into the street, barely closing the door and flattening himself against the SUV as a cyclist whizzed past, tossing an incensed "Stupid yob!" over his shoulder as he wove through traffic, the only wheeled vehicle moving for blocks. With Kanelo beside him, David stepped quickly through the packed traffic and onto the far curb as the cars crawled forward again.