The Ghost Ships of Arizona

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

Hayden entered the Sierra Nevada electrical substation in a sub-zero mood. It didn’t matter what anyone said, Hayden found a way to pick a hole in it. Her colleagues looked as though they’d both been hit by icy daggers. The facility’s security had been beefed up, along with two other lesser ones that were close by — but Hayden was taking zero chances. Approaching the entrance and shading her eyes from the sun and heat, the first cop who met her gave a little attitude — especially on seeing the unfamiliar SPEAR badge — and almost ended up in a heap on the floor.

Dahl intervened. “We’re a covert agency,” he said in a rush as Hayden’s fists clenched. “So covert we’re practically unknown.”

“That work out well for you?” the cop drawled, oblivious of his near-death experience.

“Almost never.”

Hayden pushed past and Kinimaka followed. Dahl forestalled any wisecracks from the cop by verifying the extra security.

“How many, bud?”

“Thirty,” the cop said. “Includes a Special Ops team.”

Dahl had been about to squawk “thirty?”, knowing that wasn’t nearly enough and dreading how Hayden would react in her current mood, when the final part of the cop’s answer registered with him. “Special ops? Now you’re talking.”

He moved off, keen to meet the elite team. Hayden stopped him inside the facility. “How many?”

“Well… they’re still counting but we do have a Special Forces team.”

“We do? Well, thank fuck for that. About time Robert Price started getting his act together.”

Dahl sauntered past, having averted the explosion quite nicely, he thought. Kinimaka’s shrewd glance didn’t go unnoticed. The inside of this particular facility was relatively cramped — a wide open space crammed full with offices, electrical boxes, small pylons, and gantries. It was a maze, but thankfully one in which you could always see all four walls.

Cops stood around in huddles, disorganized. Dahl followed Hayden to the main control room where a diminutive bank of CCTV screens minded the facility. Immediately, he saw the men he was looking for.

“Torsten Dahl.” He nodded at the group.

“How ya doin’?” To a man they eyed him suspiciously. “You in charge here?”

“Nope. She is.” Dahl nodded at Hayden. “We’re part of the other Special Forces team here.”

“What?” a man said. “All three of ya?”

Dahl conceded that point. “It’s been a rough one.”

Hayden quickly scanned the screens. “We need some of the cops outside. Those two police cars ain’t gonna be enough. Don’t these people listen to the news?”

“The important part is to prevent them from gaining access to this room,” Dahl said. “We think they’re planning to enter the system by leaving behind a back door. The harder we make it the better the chance they’ll give up. So let’s make it very hard.”

A rugged soldier stepped forward, addressing Hayden. “Where do you want us, ma’am?”

“First — the next person who calls me ma’am is gonna be walking funny for about three days. It’s Jaye or boss. I mean, do I look like a friggin’ ma’am? Second — we need to get those cops organized. I don’t want any dead officers today.”

“I’ll do it.” Kinimaka turned on his heel.

Dahl nodded at the screens. “Thirty minutes and we should have this place pretty well sewn up.”

Hayden sighed. “Yeah, ahead of the game at last.”

“Don’t count on it,” the Special Forces leader said. “You told them how many mercs assaulted the last station, yeah?”

Hayden nodded, already ahead of him. “I did. And our boss sent a few cops and you guys. No offense, but that ain’t enough.”

“And there’s a bigger problem,” the leader said.

“Which is?”

“The mercs are already here.”

Dahl reacted faster than anyone, lunging for a weapon rather than reaching for his own. This way he got among them and caused a little havoc. A weapon came free, its owner stumbling as Dahl wrenched hard. These men were not Special Forces then, and as he tackled them he immediately knew it. They were slow, and poorly trained. They were unsystematic. Dahl swung the weapon hard, connecting with the side of a skull. The first merc toppled at his feet, the second went flying. That left four, all drawing guns.

Hayden swept the desk clear of junk, aiming it straight toward the mercs with a powerful sweep as she drew her own gun. The facility workers froze in place, eyes wide. Hopefully Kinimaka, behind them, would bring the cops running.

She fired instantly, her shot going wide. A merc lunged at her face, grabbing for the gun. Dahl swept another weapon aside, grabbed its owner, and slammed him against the wall. The man battered both his ears with fists the size of soccer balls. A sixth sense warned him of a blade zinging in toward his spine but he knew the stab-vest would deflect it, waited, and used the ricochet to gauge where his cowardly attacker would end up. Dahl’s arm was ready, wrapping around the neck and squeezing. With the other hand he jabbed his first opponent, keeping him against the wall.

Hayden struggled as her merc caught her in a bear hug, their faces pressed together. The gun was trapped between them. His strength crushed the breath from her body. They were too close to enable her to maneuver, but she drew her head back and used her skull. The merc was clever, having dipped his head so she couldn’t reach his nose. The blow still smashed against his temple though, a wallop that he felt all the way down to his knees.

Hayden pivoted and smashed him into the bank of TV screens, then bore down on his spine. With a little room now she brought a hand up, stiffened the fingers, and dug them into his windpipe — harder and harder, each second applying more force until the choking drowned out all else. He was a stubborn son-of-a-bitch, but nobody could resist such pressure forever. At last he pushed her away, staggering. Hayden vented much more than frustration with a sharp kick to the head.

She whirled. Dahl was dealing with two mercs, and that left just one unattended. Yes, they had been outplayed but the odds were certainly changing. The merc waved a gun in her face.

“Step back, ma’am. Sit your pretty little ass down on that chair and put your hands behind your back so I can tie ‘em together.”

Hayden backed away meekly, holding her hands slightly apart. “All right. Just calm down. No one needs to get shot here today.”

“Well that depends how good you are at keeping us happy, ma’am. Now sit the fuck down.”

Hayden bowed her head, still meek and subservient. The man stepped forward menacingly and it all fell into place. Or rather his testicles fell into place. Now at the perfect range she made good on her earlier promise and drop-kicked them from his groin to his throat. The man collapsed with a high-pitched squeak, scrambling about the floor. Hayden collected his gun.

She turned again. Dahl had already choked one merc into unconsciousness. The other batted futilely at him, already knowing he was going to lose. Quickly, Hayden spun toward Kinimaka and the cops.

The day is ours! Even now we’ve thwarted the Pythians…

Kinimaka didn’t look happy, being prodded in the back by four handguns and surrounded by thirty grinning mercenaries dressed as cops. More than twenty weapons were leveled at her and Dahl.

“Now,” grated a swarthy man with a face and arms as dark and wrinkled and hard as a tree-trunk. “Get your ass down on that floor. And you too, big guy. One wrong move an’ you’ll get to see yer fucking brains across them TV screens.”