The Edge of Armageddon

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Seventeen minutes.

Drake followed Beau’s lead, cutting left down 59th and heading straight into the chaos that was Columbus Circle. Flags fluttered from buildings to his left, a green swathe lay to his right, sprinkled with trees. A mostly glass apartment building sat up ahead, its windows glinting in welcome to the still rising sun. A yellow cab slowed at the curb, its driver expectant on seeing four heavily clothed sprinters hightailing it along the sidewalk, but Beau didn’t give the man a second glance. The circle was a wide, concrete expanse with waterfalls and statues and places to sit. Tourists wandered to and fro, repacking rucksacks and drinking water. Drake drilled through the middle of a group of sweating athletes, then ran under a stretch of trees that offered at least a little shadow.

Out of sight of prying eyes.

The contrast of the austere, hectic streets with their many extremes — the majestic, cluttered skyscrapers vying for space among traditional churches along a uniform grid system — and the utter peace and calm that inhabited the greenery off to his right filled Drake with a sense of unreality. How crazy was this place? How dreamlike? The distinctions were unimaginably extreme.

He wondered just how closely Marsh was watching them, but didn’t mind too much. It could be the undoing of the man. Homeland were even now trying to find the feed so they could trace it back to a source.

A flamboyant globe spun slowly to the left as the group sped on. Alicia and Mai ran close behind, keeping watch but unable to use their full abilities at this kind of pace. The enemy could be anywhere, anyone. A passing sedan with blacked out windows warranted a closer inspection, but vanished into the distance.

Drake checked the time. Eleven minutes left.

And still the moments ticked away, second after second. Beau slowed as a light gray building appeared over the road, one Drake instantly recognized. Still running, he turned to Alicia and Mai. “Same building we fought in during the Odin thing. Shit, seems like a lifetime ago now.”

“Didn’t a helicopter hit the side?” Alicia asked.

“Oh yeah, and a T. Rex attacked us.”

The Natural History Museum appeared comparatively small from this angle, a misconception if ever there was one. Steps rose from the sidewalk to the front doors, currently thronged by a group of tourists. The combined smells of diesel and petrol assaulted them as they stopped at the curb. The noise of engines, honking horns and random shouting still tattered their senses, but at least the traffic was moving past here.

“Don’t stop now,” Alicia said. “We have no idea where the guard will be.”

Drake attempted to stop the traffic and allow them to cross. “Let’s hope he didn’t call in sick.”

Luckily, the vehicle flow was light and the group managed to thread their way across the road quite easily. Once at the base of the museum’s steps they started up, all coming to a sudden halt as they heard the loud screech of tires behind them.

Drake thought: Seven minutes.

They turned to a scene of unreserved madness. Four men jumped out of a car, rifles held in the air. Drake scrambled to evade, leaping away from the museum’s doors and straggling visitors. Beau swiftly withdrew his own weapon and took a bead on the enemy. Shots were fired. Screams tore the morning to shreds.

Drake leapt high and hit low, rolling as he struck the sidewalk and ignoring the pain where his shoulder took the full force of his body. An assailant had leapt onto the hood of a sedan and was already lining Mai up in his sights. Drake rolled against the vehicle and then rose, fortunate to find himself within grabbing distance of the rifle. He reached up, becoming the clearer threat and demanding attention.

Alicia dived the other way, clearing the steps and putting the Equestrian Statue of Theodore Roosevelt between her and her attackers. Still, they fired, bullets hammering into the bronze molding. Alicia drew her weapon and sneaked around the other side. Two men were now on top of cars, making nice targets. Civilians ran every which way, clearing the area. She took a bead on a terrorist who dropped to his knees but the constant thread of his fire swung towards her, forcing her to take cover.

Mai and Beau pressed themselves into a small indented arch near the museum’s front entrance, squeezing tight to escape the flow of bullets that stitched their way across the stonework. Beau was facing the wall, unable to move, but Mai was looking out, her back to the Frenchman’s.

“This is… awkward,” Beauregard complained.

“And very fortunate that you are reed thin,” Mai returned. She popped her head out and let loose a salvo. “You know, back when we first encountered you it seemed like you often fitted between the cracks in the walls.”

“That would be useful right now.”

“Like smoke.” Mai leaned out again, returning fire. Bullets tacked a route above her head.

“Can we move?”

“Not unless you want to become perforated.”

Drake gauged he didn’t have time to bring his own weapon to bear, so tried to grab his adversary’s. Too late he realized he couldn’t quite reach it — the guy was too high up — and then he saw the yawning barrel turning his way.

Nowhere to go.

Instinct slammed through him like a projectile. Stepping back he kicked at the car window, smashing the glass and then dived through just as the terrorist opened fire. Behind him, the sidewalk churned. Drake squeezed through the gap and into the driver’s seat, leather squeaking, the shape of the seats hampering his passage. He knew what was coming. A bullet smacked through the roof, the seat and the floor of the car. Drake shuffled faster. The central well was composed of a glove compartment and two large cup-holders, which gave him something to grip as he launched his bulk into the passenger seat. More bullets thunked mercilessly down through the roof. Drake cried out, playing for time. The flow stopped momentarily, but then as Drake leaned back and booted the window out it started again at an even faster rate.

Drake scrambled into the back seat, a bullet burning a graze down the center of his back. He ended up in an untidy heap, panting and out of ideas. His moment of delay must have made the shooter pause too, and then the man came under fire from Alicia. Drake unlocked the rear door from inside and slithered out, face-palming the concrete and seeing nowhere to go.

Except…

Under the car. He rolled, barely fitting under the vehicle. Now his vision was a black undercarriage, pipes and exhaust system. Another bullet fired down from above, slamming the gap between the open V of his legs. Drake exhaled, whistling in silence.

Two can play at this game.

One leg at a time, he forced his body along the ground and down to the front of the car, wrestling his Glock free as he went. Then, sighting up through previous bullet holes he approximated where the man would be. He fired six shots in succession, repositioning a little every time, and then quickly dragged himself out from under the car.

The terrorist fell down beside him, clutching his stomach. The rifle clattered down alongside him. As he reached desperately for it and also into his waistband, Drake shot him point blank. The risks were too great to gamble, the population too vulnerable. Aching muscles wracked him as he then struggled upright, peering over the hood of the car.

Alicia darted from around the Roosevelt statue, discharging several rounds before disappearing again. Her target was positioned on the front end of another car. Two more terrorists were trying to get an angle on Mai and Beau, who appeared to have somehow forced themselves into the wall, but Mai’s accurate shooting was holding the terrorists back.

Drake checked his watch.

Two minutes.

They were well and truly fucked.