The Edge of Armageddon

CHAPTER FORTY FIVE

Drake scrambled across the floor, rolling Gator onto his stomach as the madman giggled into the bloody deck. Dahl dropped beside him, pain, horror and foreboding written all over his face. The strap was buckled down, but Drake had it open in a moment and then eased the metal casing clear of the rough material.

The countdown timer faced them, its flashing red numbers as menacing and terrible as the blood that spread across the floor beneath their knees.

“Forty minutes,” Hayden spoke first, her voice hushed. “Don’t play with it, Drake. Defuse that thing right now.”

Drake was already turning the bomb as he had the last. Kinimaka handed him an opened utility knife, which he took to the screws, moving carefully, wary of the plethora of booby traps a bombmaker like Gator could put into play. When he had the device clear of the mad terrorist he glanced up at Alicia.

“Say no more,” she said, grabbed the man under the arms and dragged him away. For this kind of killer there would be no mercy.

With a steady hand, he removed the bomb’s front plate. Folded blue wires came with it, stretching alarmingly.

“It’s not a fucking pipe bomb,” Dahl whispered. “Be careful.”

Drake paused to stare at his friend. “Do you want to do this?”

“And be responsible for setting it off? Not really. No.”

Drake chewed on his lower lip, hyper aware of all the factors involved. The flashing countdown was an ever present reminder of how little time they had left.

Hayden called Moore. Kinimaka called the bomb squad. Someone else called NEST. All angles were covered as Drake took a look at the device, and information rapidly flooded in.

“Pull the wires again,” Dahl suggested.

“Too risky.”

“I’m guessing there’s no motion sensor this time judging by the way Gator was running around.”

“Correct. And we can’t re-employ your sledgehammer idea.”

“Collapsing circuit?”

“That’s the issue. They already used something new — a failsafe wire. And this bastard is the real thing. If I tamper with this it could go off.”

Gator made unearthly noises from the other room as Alicia worked. It wasn’t long before she stuck her head through the shattered door. “He says the bomb does have an anti-tamper switch.” She shrugged. “But then I guess he would.”

“No time,” Dahl said. “There’s no bloody time for that.”

Drake glanced at the timer. Already they were down to thirty five minutes. He rocked back on his haunches. “Shit, we can’t risk it. How long ‘til the bomb squad get here?”

“Five minutes tops,” Kinimaka said as choppers pounded down onto the ferry’s decks wherever they could. Others hovered just above as first responders jumped. “But what if they can’t defuse it?”

“How about throwing it into the bay?” Lauren suggested.

“Nice idea, but it’s too shallow,” Hayden had already asked Moore. “Contaminated water would saturate the city.”

Drake rocked back and forth, contemplating madness, and then caught Dahl’s eyes. The same idea was in the Swede’s, he knew. Through the locked gaze they communicated directly and easily.

We can do it. It’s the only way.

We’d be blind. Outcome unknown. Once started, there’s no going back. We’d be taking a one-way trip.

So what the hell are you waiting for? Mount up, motherfucker.

Drake responded to the challenge in Dahl’s eyes and straightened. Taking a deep breath he strapped on his rifle, holstered his guns and pulled the nuke free of the backpack. Hayden stared at him with wide eyes, a perceptive frown on her face.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“You know exactly what we’re doing.”

“The safe distances might not add up. For you, I mean.”

“Then they won’t.” Drake shrugged. “But we all know there’s only one way to save this city.”

Drake hefted the nuke and Dahl led the way. Alicia stopped him for one more precious moment.

“You’re leaving after just one kiss? Do not let this be the shortest relationship of my life.”

“I’m surprise you haven’t had shorter.”

“I’m purposely discounting the guy I decided I liked, shagged, then got bored of in about eight minutes.”

“Oh, good. Then I’ll see you in a few.”

Alicia held him with her eyes alone, holding the rest of her body absolutely still. “Come back soon.”

Hayden pushed between Drake and Dahl, talking fast, relaying information from Moore and keeping her eyes out for first responders who might be able to help.

“They’re saying the bomb has a payload of five to eight kilotons. Taking into account its bulk, weight and the speed at which it will sink…” She paused. “The safe depth is eighteen hundred feet…”

Drake listened, but headed up the nearest stairs toward the top deck. “We need the fastest chopper you’ve got,” he told the approaching pilot. “No fucking about. No whining. Just hand us the goddamn keys.”

“We don’t—”

Hayden interrupted. “Yeah, eighteen hundred feet to neutralize all that radiation according to NEST command. Shit, you’ll need to be eighty miles offshore.”

Drake felt the bomb’s metal casing slip a little through the sweat that coated his fingers. “In thirty minutes? Ain’t gonna happen. What else you got?”

Hayden blanched. “Nothing, Drake. They got nothing.”

“That sledgehammer’s starting to look good now,” Dahl commented.

Drake noticed Alicia shoot past, heading out onto the top deck and looking out to sea. What was she searching for out there?

A pilot approached, Bluetooth device flashing at the base of his helmet. “We got the fastest goddamn chopper in the Army,” he drawled. “Bell SuperCobra. Two hundred miles per hour if you push her.”

Drake turned to Hayden. “Will that work?”

“I think so.” She did a few mental arithmetic calculations in her head. “Wait, that can’t be right.”

Drake clung onto the nuke, the red numbers still flashing, Dahl at his side. “Come on!”

“Eighty miles,” she said, running. “Yes, you can do it. But that’ll leave you only… three minutes to get the hell out of there. You won’t escape the blast zone!”

Drake approached the SuperCobra without slowing, eyes taking in the sleek gray shape, turret mounts, three barrel cannons, rocket pods and Hellfire missile launchers.

“That’ll do,” he said.

“Drake,” Hayden stopped him. “Even if you do drop the nuke safely the blast will destroy you.”

“Then stop wasting our time,” the Yorkshireman said. “Unless you or Moore or any of the other bods in your head know of another way?”

Hayden listened to the data, advice and intelligence Moore was constantly passing on. Drake felt the ferry bobbing on the rolling waters, saw the skyline of Manhattan in the near distance, even made out the ant-like scurrying of people already returning to their lives. Military vessels, speedboats and choppers sat all around, manned by many who would give their lives to save this day.

But it came down to just two.

Drake and Dahl climbed aboard the SuperCobra, receiving a crash course in its operation from the exiting pilot.

“Godspeed,” he said, departing. “And good luck.”