The Phoenix Variant: The Fifth Column 3

by Nathan M. Farrugia

  ‘That’s going to be hard,’ Sophia said.

  ‘Sorry, I thought it was here but—’

  Sophia didn’t bother waiting. She crashed through the barrier, sending the officers scattering. The windscreen shattered into a thousand pieces but was held in place by its interlayer. Didn’t help Sophia though: she couldn’t see where she was going. Pedestrians huddled on the street corner. She maneuvered to avoid crashing into them, almost hitting a passing truck. She took the cab over the pedestrian crossing. Into oncoming traffic. ‘Hold on.’

  ‘Shit shit shit shit,’ Aviary said.

  Sophia reached for her Glock and punched the barrel through the windscreen, clearing a hole just big enough to see out of. That helped.

  There were two lanes ahead of her but the oncoming cars were crammed three abreast. Sophia jerked the cab to the right. She went wide, around a champagne-colored 4WD. It brought her into the right lane and an almost head-on with a Lexus. She nosed back into the center again, sideswiping a black sedan. She swerved, avoided another incoming car. Right lane again. The correct road was coming up on her right. She took it over the curb and hit the brakes.

  She hit gridlocked traffic again.

  ‘I think you made those cops angry,’ Aviary said.

  Through the rear vision she could see two NYPD officers moving around the chaos of crashed cars and burned rubber behind her.

  They had nowhere to go.

  Chapter 15

  Damien struggled against the weighted net. A current of electricity rippled through him. Air burst from his lungs and he collapsed. The current stopped, but as soon as Jay started wriggling nearby it sparked up again. Damien’ shook violently and he could do nothing to stop it.

  He could see one of the black-helmed soldiers moving toward him. Jay was not suffering as badly. The soldier brought the end of his spear down on Jay’s leg, but Jay moved from its path and gripped the spear, pulling the soldier in. Jay planted one hand over the soldier’s Batman-like helmet and gripped. The soldier convulsed from Jay’s electrical charge and collapsed.

  The current stopped again and Damien was able to regain control. Jay wrenched himself from the net. The woman shouted orders to her soldiers and they closed in. Another current rolled through Damien and his vision blurred. There was movement before him, then suddenly Jay was pulling him to his feet. He was out of the net just in time to see the soldiers leap down from the balconies. Jay swung his captured spear, catching a soldier as he landed and knocking him into the archway.

  ‘An electric net probably wasn’t your best choice,’ Jay said.

  The woman ignored him. ‘Don’t you kill them now,’ she said. ‘They no use to us dead.’

  ‘No promises,’ Jay said.

  ‘I don’t think she was talk—’ Damien stopped mid-sentence as he noticed a soldier on the balcony aim her bow.

  He pulled Jay sideways. An arrow punctured the floor-to-ceiling window behind them. They couldn’t possibly engage so many of them—Damien counted eight, not including the leader—and a further four who emerged from the foyer, blocking their escape to the west elevators.

  The only other options were to move south past the three soldiers who had circled behind them. Or north, past the remaining black-helmed soldier and the leader herself. Damien had no idea where the glass-latticed doors would lead but it didn’t look promising.

  Jay was already advancing toward the leader. Damien kept a few paces off. In combat, armed or unarmed, he never stopped moving. As soon as the soldiers saw Jay aiming for the leader, they pushed aggressively. The archer on the balcony removed an arrow from her quiver. Damien waited for her to aim and then rolled sideways, moving himself closer to a soldier.

  The soldier thrust his spatha at Damien’s midsection. Damien turned, the blade missing him. For a longsword it was quite short, about thirty inches. Damien’s hip pressed on the soldier’s sword hand and his free hand pinned it there. Manipulating the wrist, he curled the hand back on itself. The wrist snapped and the tip of the sword turned, pressed into the soldier’s stomach, pushing at his armor.

  Other soldiers were moving in fast on his left and Jay wasn’t around to disperse them. Damien tore the sword from his captive’s grasp and, with one hand, brought it back around, smashing the blade across the soldier’s golden helm. The impact concussed the guy and knocked him backward.

  Damien over-swung on purpose; he’d seen another golden helmet advancing on his left. Damien’s shiny new spatha made it across in time to stop the slow overhead strike. Unlike the original soldiers who once wielded these heavy weapons, the modern day soldier attacking Damien wasn’t used to the weight and feel. The soldier swung again, in from the side.

  From the corner of his eye, Damien saw the archer on the balcony take another shot. Damien turned his sword in, deflecting the soldier’s. He moved forward past him. The arrow shot from the bow and scythed behind them. As he moved to avoid it, he turned his wrist and ran the sword through the soldier’s neck.

  Behind him, Jay thrust the end of his spear into the leader. She saw it coming and sidestepped it. He swung the spear in toward her. She ducked and it struck the black-helmed soldier instead. Damien could hear the air expel from the soldier’s lungs. The leader rolled under the spear toward Jay, her puglio slicing the air.

  Damien saw Jay pull his spear in close. He used it as a staff, deflecting two quick stabs of the puglio. He brought it to her pearlescent helm but she ducked. He aimed low and caught her legs, knocking her to the ground. Another stab and he would’ve ended her there. But the black-helmed soldier towered over him. His spear thrust forward. Jay deflected it. The leader rolled clear.

  Damien caught sight of Jensen retreating behind the archway and the safety of the soldiers. Damien couldn’t do anything about it—he had three soldiers moving toward him, each wielding a spatha. More were pushing in from the side, away from the archways. Jay had chosen their direction and they had to stick to it now.

  Damien clashed his blade with the soldiers’. Behind him, the black-helmed soldier traded blows with Jay. Damien retreated beside Jay’s assailant, which at least blocked those coming at him from the archway.

  The three soldiers in front of Damien moved forward together. Beside him, Damien could see the black-helmed soldier stabbing and slashing at Jay. The soldier noticed Damien and swung his spear toward him, hoping the weapon’s length would reach.

  Damien deflected the spear and, between trading blows with the three soldiers in front of him, used his sword to slam it downward, pinning it to the ground long enough for Jay to skewer the black-helmed soldier.

  Damien swung his sword into the black-helmed soldier’s breastplate—the blow throwing him backward and freeing Jay’s spear from its penetration. Jay was again able to swing across the advancing soldiers from the archway.

  Damien kept a foot under the dead soldier’s spear as he retreated. I could use that myself, he thought. He knocked off two more strikes as the three attackers compressed, growing confident. Damien waited for the archer on the balcony to draw an arrow. He leaned back as she released it. It passed an inch from his chest. He reached near the end of the spear and—in line with Jay—kicked it into the air. It bounced from his foot. He grasped it with one hand and threw it, aiming for the center of the three soldiers. It struck the middle soldier above the collarbone and he collapsed.

  Jay was beside Damien, checking over his shoulder. They had almost reached the lattice glass doors. Jay turned the handle and used the hilt of his spear to spread the doors open. Damien risked a glance. It was an open terrace, and beyond it downtown New York, skyscrapers glittering in the night. Damien could see dark, menacing clouds rolling in toward the city. A strong wind chilled his tuxedo and made him squint to see properly.

  They sprinted for the edge, but Damien wasn’t impressed to find at least a one-level drop between them and a rectangular terrace below covered in tennis court grass. It connected with the tower on the other side, and from there the
y could escape through the east tower’s elevators or stairs.

  The soldiers moved onto the terrace in pursuit.

  ‘This is all your fault,’ Jay said. ‘If you’d just let me shoot Jensen it wouldn’t have happened.’

  Damien sighed and discarded his spatha. ‘For once I don’t disagree.’

  The leader emerged onto the terrace, puglio in hand. Under her pearl helm, he could see sweat beading across her face.

  ‘There is nowhere for you to—’

  Damien jumped.

  Chapter 16

  ‘Where’s the SUV?’ Sophia yelled.

  Aviary fumbled with her iPhone. ‘Uh, wait, they’re still there. Not moving! Just half a block right ahead of us!’ She leaned forward, pointing through the shattered windscreen.

  Sophia peered out her driver’s side window to see the vehicles ahead properly. She spotted the gray SUV about six cars ahead, in the right lane. It was sitting almost in the center of Times Square, a major junction between Broadway and the road she was stuck on now, Seventh Avenue. Triangular in shape, Times Square was—unfortunately for her—a pedestrian plaza. From where she was, stuck in the center lane, she couldn’t get much closer. Traffic wasn’t going anywhere.

  In her rear-vision mirror she caught sight of the other gray SUV in the distance. It didn’t seem that its occupants had seen her yet, or at least identified her cab as the one that took them out, and they probably wouldn’t since they were all packed in with other cabs in every direction.

  She looked over at the other side of the Times Square plaza. Broadway was closed from vehicles entirely: it was just foot traffic. But she spotted a black 4WD pulling up near the barrier adjacent to her. The occupants were slow to emerge, moving for the trunk to get their shopping out. The vehicle was facing outward, parked alongside a sunglasses stall on the sidewalk.

  ‘Take the wheel,’ she said to Aviary.

  Sophia jumped from the cab, crunching her door against the poor car next to her. With her slim ruck still on her shoulders, she legged it past the glass ticketing building. She watched for the driver, intending on stealing his key.

  As she reached the corner, past the metal barriers, a squad car pulled in front of her. Two officers emerged, pistols drawn.

  ‘Great,’ she muttered.

  They were yelling at her to lie down on the pavement where she stood. The crowd dispersed around her. She did as she was told, following their instructions. Until they came too close.

  The nearest officer holstered her pistol and reached for handcuffs. Sophia clamped the officer’s ankle, fixing her to the concrete, and pushed into her kneecap with her other hand. The knee went sideways. The officer wobbled and fell backward. Her leg straightened out, her foot still pinned by Sophia.

  Sophia launched upward, unholstered the officer’s pistol and aimed it at her partner. She held he captured officer and, pulling her to her feet, used her as a shield. Sophia closed the gap, shifted her aim back to the head of her new hostage.

  She could hear Aviary squealing in her ear. ‘I think they’re trying to get out of the SUV!’

  When Sophia was close enough she slumped her hostage into the other officer and used her as a stepping-stone. She kneed the other officer in the face, jumped over and kicked him in the back of the head. She landed behind the pair, pivoted, stole the pistol from his holster. They crumpled to the floor together. With a stolen Glock in either hand she dumped the magazines on the road and tossed the pistols into the back of the squad car.

  ‘They’re moving! Still heading south!’ Aviary shouted. ‘Chute three of three!’

  Lane three of three.

  Sophia searched the right hip pocket of the second officer. She found his set of keys and took the squad car. She reversed, gently knocked them aside, and drove over the curb and onto the corner of the sidewalk.

  She didn’t stop, pushing through the metal barriers. The barriers were all linked so they rattled along with her for a bit. She tried a J-turn, but they got in the way and she was only half-facing the SUV on the other side of Times Square.

  The road was painted blue to indicate foot traffic. She drove over one of the entangled barriers. Her tires bit into the road. She accelerated, roared past a slanted ticketing building and toward the center of the Times Square plaza. Pedestrians—not expecting to look out for cars—scattered. Once the building was clear she could look across at the traffic on Seventh. She searched for the gray SUV and found it on the outside lane. It wasn’t moving.

  She negotiated the metal poles through the plaza. Her squad car flattened a metal trashcan. Between her and the gray SUV: a few pedestrians and some metal tables and chairs, painted red. Above the gray SUV, the giant strobing arches of McDonalds.

  She knew it would only be a matter of time before the SUV driver decided to pull up onto the plaza and illegally circumvent the traffic. But if she could box him in from the outside, she would deny him that option. The SUV would be trapped.

  And she would have five armed men to deal with, she reminded herself.

  Well, she’d cross that bridge when she came to it.

  She drove through a red table and chairs, flinging them into the air. She was past the point of discretion. She had the NYPD in pursuit, and possibly the second SUV. And the first SUV would see her coming very soon. She hit another red table. The driver must have seen it.

  The first SUV made a sudden getaway—over the curb and onto the plaza.

  Sophia stamped on the gas pedal, smashed through another set of table and chairs. She caught up to the SUV while it was still in second gear. She had a chance. Positioning herself just to the side, she brought the nose of her squad car hard into the side of the target vehicle and aligned her front wheels with their back wheels. She steered sharply into the SUV, as hard as she could. At this slow speed she’d need a good hit to destabilize it. The SUV wobbled, went out of alignment, started sideways.

  Sophia continued with her own turn, correcting herself just before colliding with the traffic on Seventh Avenue. The SUV looked about to straighten up.

  Don’t you dare.

  She accelerated.

  The SUV started to right itself.

  It struck a pole. Came to a sudden stop.

  Sophia found herself boxed in between the traffic on her left, a statue on her right, the SUV in front. Her rear would soon be populated by NYPD and the second SUV. It was about to get messy.

  She did the only thing she could do.

  She hit the brakes and crashed into the SUV cabin, sandwiching it between her half-obliterated squad car and the pole, which now leaned at a precarious angle. They weren’t going anywhere.

  Her airbag deployed, smothering her face. She leaned back, released her seatbelt and checked for her Glock. It was still in her waistband. Her arms hurt, her head seemed fine. She remembered her face paint and wondered vaguely how disturbing she must have looked taking down those two NYPD officers as a skeleton from another realm.

  She opened the door to step out. Dizziness took over. She realized she wasn’t fine at all. She was concussed. She tried to stand but collapsed beside the squad car. Looking up, she saw the SUV’s rear hatch flip open. Armed men in black fatigues hustled the bound operative out.

  The bound operative was led toward the traffic, out of Sophia’s view. Sophia tried to move but couldn’t. All she could manage was stopping the world from spinning around her. And even that was a challenge. She turned to brace herself on the squad car and noticed another vehicle speed out into the plaza behind her. Great. It wasn’t the NYPD. It was the second SUV.

  Fear twitched inside her.

  Move.

  Hurling herself to one knee, then both knees, one foot. She touched over her head, through her hair, feeling for anything warm or wet. It came away dry, smudged with ash from the museum explosion. She staggered around the open door, using it to hold her steady.

  The second SUV was a blur in her vision. It pulled up behind her. She could see more masked soldiers
in black, carbines in hand. An NYPD squad car pulled up behind it. Not good. She staggered around the hood of her squad car.

  She had to move faster.

  She reached the edge of the hood and almost fell. The gridlocked traffic on Seventh was only twenty feet away. If she could get there she would have some concealment. She took one step. And another. Then a third. Her legs were fine but her head had other plans, lurching her to the left and then to the right. Her balance was completely shot. She staggered dangerously to the left, slumped against a 4WD. To the commuters she must have looked drunk.

  She ran her hands along the 4WD’s hood, let it guide her. She found her way into the traffic. Through the lanes she could see the masked soldiers in the distance, rushing up the avenue toward her.

  One of them fell.

  She heard someone yell. In pain.

  Moving across the center lane, Sophia collapsed between two cabs. Her Glock slipped from her waistband. She found the handgrip. It was all she had.

  She heard glass shatter. Shots fired. The discharged rounds echoed down the avenue, the sound bouncing off the vehicles like a hundred whips. She aimed her Glock at the attacker.

  ‘Motherfucker,’ Nasira said. ‘What the hell they do to your face?’

  Sophia remembered her face paint. She took her finger off the trigger, turned to see the second gray SUV idling behind them, just past the statue. Aviary was in the driver’s seat and three black-masked heads lolled unconscious in the back.

  ‘Get in!’ Aviary yelled.

  ‘Thanks for smashing into us back there,’ Nasira said.

  Sophia looked back over at two black shapes slumped on the plaza pavement and realized Nasira had in the last forty seconds taken out all of the masked soldiers from the second SUV.

  ‘Where did they take the operative?’ Sophia said. She tried to get to her feet and almost fell.