The Edge of Armageddon

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Drake watched Mai rip open the guard’s jacket as she searched for a list of demands. Alicia and Beau searched the gathering crowds, almost certain the last remaining member of the third cell would make some kind of move. Homeland were en route, only two minutes out. Sirens shrieked nearby as the cops gathered. Drake knew that by now the culminating incidents would have all New Yorkers on edge, and sightseers rattled. It might not be a bad thing if people stayed off the streets, but what more could the White House actually do?

Drones with radiation detectors were looping through the skies. Metal detectors were stopping everyone who merited attention and many who didn’t. The Army and NEST were here. So many agents were roaming the streets it felt like a veteran’s reunion. If Homeland, the FBI, CIA and NSA were doing their jobs correctly, then Marsh would surely be found.

Drake checked his watch. It was somewhat over an hour since this nightmare began.

Is that all?

Alicia nudged him. “She found something.”

Drake watched as Mai removed a folded sheet of paper from Gonzales’s ruined jacket.

The New Yorker winced at her and picked up a tattered sleeve in each hand. “Will the city give me comp… compen… compens—”

“The city can give you some advice,” Alicia said dead-pan. “Next time use a little warm oil. Don’t pay for bad company.”

Gonzales shut up and slunk away.

Drake moved over to Mai. Marsh’s demands had been printed on a white A4 sheet in what appeared to be the biggest typesetting. All in all, they were pretty straight forward.

“Five hundred million dollars,” Mai read out. “And nothing else.”

Beneath the demand was a sentence written in a contrasting small script.

“Details to follow shortly.”

Drake knew exactly what that meant. “We’re about to be sent on another wild goose chase.”

Beauregard watched the crowds. “And we remain under surveillance, no doubt. It is certain this time that we will fail again.”

Drake lost count of the cellphones being held up among the gathered throng, then heard the dull buzz of his cell’s message tone and checked the screen. Even before he clicked onto the video link his scalp started to itch with deep foreboding. “Guys,” he said and held the device at arm’s length as they crowded around.

It was grainy and it was in black and white, but the camera was steady and clearly showed one of Drake’s worst nightmares. “This is senseless,” he said. “Killing people who have no idea what’s going on. It’s not for terror, it’s not for gain. It’s for…” He couldn’t go on.

“Pleasure,” Mai breathed. “We dig up more of these bottom feeders every day. And the worst thing is, they dwell at the very heart of our communities.”

Drake didn’t waste another moment, but sent the link on to Homeland. The fact that Marsh appeared to be able to pluck his cellphone number out of the air wasn’t particularly surprising given all he’d accomplished so far. The terrorists helping him were clearly more than expendable foot soldiers.

Drake watched the cops do their jobs. Alicia moved closer to him, then randomly pulled up the leg of her pants. “Y’ see this?” she intoned. “Got this when you tried to kick my ass in the desert. And it’s still bloody fresh. That’s how fast this thing is moving along.”

Drake took more than one impression from her words. There was the memory of their bonding, their new attraction; the inference to Mai and Beau that something had happened between them; and the more obvious reference to her own life so far — how fast it had been moving and how she was trying to slow things down.

In the direct line of fire.

“If we survive this,” he said. “Team SPEAR is taking a week off.”

“Torsty’s already booked for Barbados,” Alicia said.

“What happened in the desert?” Mai wondered.

Drake checked his watch, then his phone, overcome by an odd, surreal moment. Mounting upon the needless death and surging threat, upon the endless chase and the brutal battle, they were now kicking their heels and being forced to take several moment’s respite. Of course, they needed the time to let go of the tension, the mounting anxiety that might eventually get them killed… but Alicia’s way of doing it was always somewhat out of the box.

“Bikini. Beach. Blue waves,” Alicia said. “That’s me.”

“Are you taking your new best friend?” Mai smiled. “Kenzie?”

“Y’know, Alicia, I don’t think Dahl’s booked a team holiday,” Drake said, only half-joking. “More a family vacation.”

Alicia growled. “What a bastard. We are family.”

“Yes, but not in the way he wants. Y’know, Johanna and Dahl need a little time.”

But Alicia was now staring hard at Mai. “And in answer to that initial jibe, Sprite, no, I was thinking of taking Drakey. That okay with you?”

Drake looked away fast, lips pursed in a silent whistle. Behind him he heard Beau’s comment.

“Does that mean you and I are now finished?”

Mai’s voice remained calm. “I guess that’s up to Matt to decide.”

Oh thanks. Thanks a bloody bunch.

It came almost with a tone of relief when his own phone rang. “Yes?”

“Marsh here. Are my little soldiers ready for a brisk jog?”

“You killed those innocent people. When we meet I will see you answer for that.”

“No, friend, it is you who are about to answer. You read my demands, yes? Five hundred million. It is a fair sum for a city full of men, women and little tykes.”

Drake closed his eyes, grating his teeth. “What next?”

“Details for the payment, naturally. Go to Grand Central Station. They’re waiting inside one of the central cafés.” He mentioned the name. “Folded neatly and tucked inside an envelope which some kind soul has stuck to the underside of the last table at the far end of the counter. Trust me, you’ll understand when you get there.”

“And if we don’t?” Drake hadn’t forgotten about the escaped cell member nor the existence of at least two further cells.

“Then I’ll call on the next donkey to carry my load and blow up a donut shop. That sound okay with you?”

Drake fantasized for a moment about what he might do to Marsh when they captured him. “How long?”

“Oh, ten minutes should do it.”

“Ten minutes? That’s bollocks, Marsh, and you know it. Grand Central is over twenty minutes from here. Probably double that.”

“I never said you had to walk.”

Drake clenched his fists. They were being set up to fail and they all knew it.

“Tell you what,” Marsh said. “To prove I can be pliable I’ll change that to twelve minutes. And counting…”

Drake started to run.