Blood Vengeance

CHAPTER THIRTY SIX

Drake felt like a man leaping to his own doom as he jumped onto the escalator’s central divide and sailed down in Dahl’s wake. The surface was slippery smooth, contributing to a swift increase in their speed. Drake heard a whoop from behind and knew that Alicia had climbed on too.

One after the other, the three SPEAR team members slid toward the Blood King, his men, and the President at high speed, firing high but still making them duck their heads and lose focus. One man tripped and fell headlong down the escalator. Dahl smashed through an oblong-shaped upright in the center of the divide, but barely noticed. His balance was perfect and never altered. He flew down the entire escalator at high speed, in just a few seconds hitting the end with his legs high and tucking to control his inevitable tumble. He landed, rolled and came up with his gun raised just as the Blood King’s men jumped down the last few steps.

The African leaped at him. Drake landed in a tangle. Alicia cheered, enjoying the air time as she flew off the escalator, landing on her knees and sliding across the polished floor. Dahl stood up to the African, offering no quarter and giving no retreat. The Blood King and two of his men ran straight at Drake. The other man collapsed at the bottom of the escalator, right onto his face. It appeared his hands were tied.

President Coburn stooped down to help him.

Drake rose and waded right into Kovalenko, welcoming the attack. It felt good to pound the Blood King’s flesh. He doubled the man over with a strike to the plexus, broke his nose with a rising knee, and smashed an elbow into the upcoming neck. All standard stuff, but Kovalenko staggered away, gurgling. The next two men looked to be a tougher prospect. Drake sidestepped a knife thrust and broke the wielder’s wrist, then maneuvered the man so his colleague couldn’t get past. The first man was far from finished, however, and propelled Drake back against the wall. Once there, his colleague stepped around. Drake ducked a stiffened fingerstab, letting it strike the wall, then grabbed hold of the man by the back of the neck and smashed his face against the hard surface. He turned once again to the man with the broken wrist.

To find President Coburn in the act of stabbing a piece of jagged plastic hard into the man’s neck from behind; an act that took some solid balls.

When the man folded, blood spraying, Drake nodded. “Mr. President.”

Kovalenko cried out in rage. In a moment of frustration he lunged toward Coburn, but the President stood his ground, shrugging off the Russian’s attack. Kovalenko staggered, seemingly bowed by defeat.

But it was far from over. Dahl traded blow for blow with the African, both men standing toe to toe and refusing to back down. Kovalenko held a gun and fished a phone out of his pocket.

Just then, Bravo’s team leader barged down the last few steps of the escalator. His face beamed a bright shade of crimson.

“Late to the fuckin’ party,” Alicia murmured as she came up behind Dahl.

“Don’t you guys listen to your goddamn comms?”

“We’ve been kinda busy saving the President’s ass.”

“Well, do you remember Kovalenko’s other two teams? They also dropped into the underground a while back, through other Metro stations. No trains means empty tunnels. And they’re all converging here, now!”

Drake’s eyes widened and he risked a glance behind him, where a wide-open, empty platform led to the train tracks. Sure enough, men were starting to climb onto the platform. Kovalenko planned this?

Seconds to decide. What to do?

“And not only that,” Kovalenko said with a grin, having regained his composure and holding up his phone. “DC’s about to go boom.” He spoke into the phone. “Send in the drone!”