The Edge of Armageddon

CHAPTER FIVE

As Drake stood upright the full weight of what was transpiring bore down upon him. Urgency coursed through his veins, frayed his nerve-endings, and one look at his team-mates told him they felt the same — even Kenzie. He’d really thought the ex-Mossad agent would have made her move by now but then, in truth, because of the bond between soldiers, he didn’t even have to ask her why she hadn’t. The same innocents she fought for were at stake here, the same civilians. Anyone with even half a heart would not let this stand, and Drake suspected there might be a lot more to Kenzie than half a heart, however deeply buried it may be.

Seven-forty-five, the wall clock read and the whole team were on the move. The police station was filled with an uneasy chaotic calm, cops in charge but clearly on edge. News reports flashed across TV screens, but none that were relevant to them. Moore paced and paced, waiting for news from undercover agents or surveillance teams or roving cars. Hayden squared off with the rest of the team.

“Mano and I will handle Ramses. We need two more groups, one to evaluate the nuke information as it happens, and one to chase down these cells. Keep everything quiet, but take no prisoners. Today, my friends, is not a day for fucking around. Get what you need and get it fast and hard. A lie could cost us dearly.”

Moore picked up on what she was saying and looked over. “Today,” he said, “there will be no quarter.”

Dahl nodded grimly as he cracked knuckles like he might a man’s skull. Drake tried to relax. Even Alicia marched around like a caged panther.

Then, at 8 a.m., the craziness began.

Calls started to come in, dedicated phones ringing again and again, their clamor filling the small room. Moore fielded them with efficiency, one after another, and two assistants ran in to help. Even Kinimaka took a call, though the table he perched on didn’t sound particularly happy.

Moore collated the information at the speed of light. “We’re on,” he said. “All teams are go. Undercovers have reported back the most recent talk of secret meetings and chatter. Movements around known mosques have ramped up. Even if we didn’t know what was going on we’d be worried. New faces have been seen in the usual haunts, all determined and moving fast, purposefully. Of the cells we know about two have disappeared off the radar.” Moore shook his head. “As if we weren’t already up against it. But we have leads. One team should head to the docks — one of the known cells operates from there.”

“That’s us,” Dahl grated. “Mount up, motherfuckers.”

“Speak for yourself.” Kenzie sidled alongside. “Oh, and I’m with you.”

“Ahh, do you have to?”

“Stop playing hard to get.”

Drake studied the teams, which had paired off quite interestingly. Dahl and Kenzie had Lauren, Smyth and Yorgi as comrades. He had ended up with Alicia, Mai and Beau. It was a recipe for something; that was for sure.

“Good luck, mate,” Drake said.

Dahl turned to say something just as Moore held a hand up. “Wait!” He covered the receiver for a second. “This was just patched through to our hotline.”

All heads swiveled. Moore had fielded another call and was now sending a hand out, scrabbling for the speaker button.

“You’re on,” Moore said.

A disembodied crackle filled the room, the words spilling as fast as Drake’s legs wanted to run in pursuit. “This is Julian Marsh, and I know that you know almost everything. Yes, I do. The question is — how would you like to play it?”

Hayden took point as Moore waved for a trace. “Stop dicking about, Marsh. Where is it?”

“Well, that’s the explosive question, isn’t it? I’ll tell you this, my dear, it’s here. In New York City.”

Drake didn’t dare breathe as their worst fears were undeniably confirmed.

“So the other question is — what do I want next?” Marsh allowed a long pause.

“Get to it, asshole,” Smyth snarled.

Alicia frowned. “Let’s not antagonize the prick.”

Marsh laughed. “Let’s not, indeed. So the nuke is armed, the codes all nicely entered. Clock is ticking, as they say. Now all that needs to be done is verify that it is real and provide you with a bank account number. Am I right?”

“Yes,” Hayden said simply.

“You want proof? You’re gonna have to work for it.”

Drake leaned forward. “What do you mean?”

“I mean the chase is on.”

“Will you be getting to the point anytime soon?” Hayden asked.

“Ah, we’ll get to it. First, you little worker ants have a job to do. I’d get scuttling if I were you. You see… you see how I made that rhyme? I was going to make everything rhyme, you know, but in the end… well, I realized that I didn’t give that much of a fuck.”

Drake shook his head in despair. “Bloody ’ell, mate. Speak proper English.”

“The first clue is already in play. A form of verification. You have twenty minutes to get to the Hotel Edison, Room 201. Then there will be four more clues, some of verification and some of demands. Do you get me now?”

Mai came back first. “Insanity.”

“Well, I am a man of two minds. One of need, one of vice. Perhaps at their intersection sparks of madness fly.”

“Twenty minutes?” Drake checked his watch. “Can we even make it?”

“For every minute you are late I have ordered one of Ramses’ cells to kill two civilians.”

Again the jaw-dropping shock, the terror, the mounting suspense. Drake clenched his fists as the adrenaline rose.

“Twenty minutes,” Marsh reiterated. “From… now.”

Drake sprinted out the door.

Hayden raced down the stairs and towards the building’s basement, Kinimaka at her back. Fury rode her and beat at her as if with a devil’s wings. Anger forced her legs to go faster and almost caused her to trip. Her Hawaiian partner grunted, slipped and picked himself up almost without stopping. She thought about her friends in dire peril, rushing off to different areas of the city with no idea of what to expect, laying themselves on the line without question. She thought about all the civilians out there and what the White House might now be thinking. It was all well and good to have protocols and plans and workable formulas, but when the real, working world became the object of extreme threat — all bets were off. At the bottom of the stairs she hit a corridor and sprinted. Doors flashed by to either side, most unlit. At the far end a row of bars were quickly slid aside for her.

Hayden held her hand out. “Gun.”

The guard flinched, but then acquiesced, orders from above having already reached his ears.

Hayden took the weapon, checked the thing was loaded and the safety was off, and burst into the small room.

“Ramses!” she shouted. “What the hell have you done?”