The Edge of Armageddon

CHAPTER NINE

Drake could only watch as the out-of-control truck veered toward him. His attackers didn’t even let up for a second, raining blows down because their own safety wasn’t a concern to them. He took a fist to the throat, the chest and the solar plexus. He watched the swinging body, and kicked out as it swung right over his head.

The first terrorist fell backward, stumbling away, and was struck by one of the wheels, the impact breaking his back and ending his threat. The second blinked as if stunned by Drake’s effrontery, then turned his head toward the approaching body of the truck.

The wet slapping sound was enough. Drake knew he was out of it, and then saw the first terrorist’s skull chewed beneath the sliding wheels as the truck’s body slewed around above him. Frame flattened, he could only hope. Darkness blotted out everything, even sound for a split second. The underside of the truck moved over him, slowing, slowing, and then came to an abrupt stop.

Alicia’s hand reached underneath. “You okay?”

Drake rolled towards her. “Better than those guys.”

Beau was waiting, almost hopping from foot to foot as he checked his own watch. “Four minutes left!”

Aching, bruised, scraped and battered, Drake forced his body into action. Alicia stayed with him this time, as if sensing he might be a little distracted after the near miss. They weaved around the tourist gangs, finding Central Park South and the Marea among a host of other restaurants.

Mai pointed it out, the signage comparatively discreet for New York City.

Beau ran ahead. Drake and the others caught him up at the door. A waitress stared at them and their disheveled appearance, their heavy jackets, and backed away. Her eyes showed that she’d seen damage and suffering before.

“Don’t worry,” Drake said. “We’re the English.”

Mai sent a glare his way. “Japanese.”

And Beau interrupted his search for the men’s room with a raised eyebrow. “Definitely not English.”

Drake ran as gracefully as he could through the still-closed restaurant, clipping a chair and table as he went. The men’s restroom was small, consisting of only two urinals and a toilet. He checked under the bowl.

“Nothing here,” he said.

Stress crisscrossed Beauregard’s face. He tapped the buttons of his watch. “Time’s up.”

The hovering waitress jumped as the telephone rang. Drake held out a hand to her. “Take your time. Please, take your time.”

He thought she might bolt, but inner resolve sent her toward the receiver. At that moment Alicia came out of the female restroom, a fraught expression on her face. “It’s not there. We don’t have it!”

Drake flinched as if he'd been struck. He stared around. Could there be another restroom in this tiny restaurant? An employee’s stall perhaps? They would have to check again, but the waitress was already speaking on the phone. Her eyes flickered toward Drake and she told the caller to hold.

“It’s a man called Marsh. For you.”

Drake frowned. “Did he ask for me by name?”

“An Englishman, he said.” The waitress shrugged. “That’s all he said.”

Beau lingered at his side. “And since you are easily confused, my friend, that is you.”

“Cheers.”

Drake reached out for the phone, one hand rubbing the side of his face as a rush of weariness and tension washed over him. How could they fail now? They had defeated all the odds and yet Marsh might still somehow be playing them.

“Yes?”

“Marsh here. Now tell me, what did you find?”

Drake opened his mouth, then closed it quickly. What was the right answer? Maybe Marsh was expecting the word “nothing”. Maybe…

He paused, wavering from reply to reply.

“Tell me what you found or I will give the order to kill two New Yorkers within the next minute.”

Drake opened his mouth. Dammit! “We found—”

Then Mai came sprinting out of the women’s rest room, slipping on the wet tiles and falling onto her side. In her hand was clasped a small white envelope. Beau was next to her in a split-second, retrieving the envelope and handing it to Drake. Mai languished on the floor, panting hard.

Alicia stared open-mouthed at her. “Where did you find that, Sprite?”

“You did what they call a ‘boy look’, Taz. And that shouldn’t surprise anyone, since you’re three-quarters male anyway.”

Alicia fumed in silence.

Drake was coughing as he tore open the envelope. “We… found… a… a bloody USB stick, Marsh. Shit, man, what is this?”

“Well done. Well done. I’m a little disappointed but, hey, maybe next time. Now just take a good look at the USB. This is your final verification and, as before, you may want to pass it on to someone with a bigger brain than yourselves or the NYPD.”

“Is it the inside of the… cake?” Drake was aware of the waitress still standing nearby.

Marsh laughed loudly. “Oh good, oh very good. Let’s not let the cat out of the bag, eh? Yes, it is. Now listen, I will give you ten minutes to send the USB’s contents to your betters, and then we start again.”

“No, no we don’t.” Drake waved toward Mai, who carried a small backpack in which they had stashed a tiny laptop. The Japanese woman dragged herself off the ground and came over.

“We won’t chase our tails all over this city, Marsh.”

“Umm, yes you will. Because I say so. Now, time is ticking. Let’s get that laptop booted up and enjoy what happens next, shall we? Five, four…”

Drake smashed a fist into a table as the line went quiet. Anger boiled his blood. “Listen, Marsh—”

The restaurant’s front window exploded as the front fender of a van smashed through into the eating area. Glass shattered and tore slices from the air. Woodwork, plastic and mortar burst into the room. The van didn’t stop, crashing down onto its tires and roaring like death’s apprentice as it tore through the small room.