Weapons of the Gods

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

The GPR device squealed, signaling that the dagger was close by. Hayden wondered if it was sophisticated enough to indicate an exact position. The little red dot blinked faster as central Dallas came closer. Cambridge’s voice filled her ears, informing them that they had twenty minutes left to pull this off. The only reason they hadn’t been overridden so far was because they’d now annulled seven out of the eight bombs with no loss of life. Nobody outside the train would risk their career betting against odds like that by sending in a strike team.

We can’t risk the train.

“Molokai, Smyth, finish that last terrorist.”

She watched them approach the end of their carriage and then turned her attention to the nervous passengers. One by one, she sent them past her position, holding the GPR in one hand and a Glock in the other. Kinimaka stood next to her, with Dahl, Yorgi and Luther opposite.

And then she knew the identity of their enemy: a woman with scraped-back brown hair, sweating at the temples, wearing a large coat and moving with her head down. She indicated the woman to Dahl and Luther and then raised her gun.

“Stop!”

Someone screamed. Heads whipped around. Hayden didn’t expect the woman to attack, but neither did she expect her to fall to her knees and start wailing.

“No, no, no… I can’t, just can’t…”

She shrugged the coat off her shoulders, let it fall to the floor. Hayden half-expected to see a bomb-vest, but the woman wore only a simple white blouse. The Dagger of Nemesis fell to the floor and Hayden got her first real look at it.

Around fourteen inches long, with a wickedly serrated and notched blade, the dagger emitted no radiance despite the bright strip lights shining down on it from above. The dense, black surface absorbed everything. The handle grip was man-size and ribbed along its entire length and, when Hayden placed the GPR upon it, it made the device go crazy.

Good to know.

The fallen woman was sobbing into the floor. Hayden lifted her head. “What is it?”

“They have my husband. Forced me to board the train. I was supposed to jump when it slowed, then make my way to a phone box on Ross Avenue.” She nodded at the dagger. “With that.”

Hayden hung her head for a moment. The evil of men… and women… could never be underestimated.

“Sit tight,” she said, then opened the comms. “Cambridge? Sit rep?”

“More telling info from Crowe and Lauren, gleaned from the general’s computer, but we’ll discuss that later. This is your last chance, Hayden. They’re literally lining up guns on anyone all along the final route. They’re on the ground, crammed in second and third story windows. They’re on rooftops. You have… four minutes.”

Hayden screamed for Yorgi to race right down to the back of the train, to make the passengers lie down. She raced with Dahl and Luther toward the front carriage to see what the hell was happening with Molokai and Smyth.

The last terrorist stared, eyes huge, the terrifying gleam of utter fanaticism glowing from his face. He’d tied one man to the headrest of a seat and was making him hold tight to a grenade.

A grenade from which the pin had already been pulled.

The terrorist knelt on the seat behind him, a gun aimed at the rest of the passengers that were lined up at the front, some kneeling, some standing. Smyth and Molokai were halfway down the aisle.

With no options.

Hayden stole inside the carriage without being acknowledged, knowing she had to be there. The others followed. The terrorist saw them immediately, but knew he had the upper hand.

“I will kill everyone,” he said.

“Oh, I know you will,” Hayden replied. Because you’re a mad little fucker. She addressed the captive holding the live grenade: “What’s your name, bud?”

“Mark. Mark Starzynski.”

“You have kids, Mark?”

“Yes, I do. Two.”

“Well, Mark, you hold onto that lump of iron like it’s gold, the winning lottery ticket, and your kids’ futures all rolled in to one. Got that?”

“Yeah, right, I got it.”

Good. Now, fuckhead?”

The terrorist narrowed his eyes at her, gun wavering.

“Yeah, you, fuckhead. You look at me, not at those poor people. Just me. You wanna know why?”

“You are a crazy bitch.”

“Well, that’s something you got right today. It’s was me that killed all your deranged pals. I gave the orders. I pulled the trigger. How’d you like that?”

“Two minutes,” Cambridge said inside her head.

Kinimaka’s voice replied with real fear. “There are loads of passengers being forced to stand,” he hissed. “At the front. And the team too. Pass it on.”

“Ah, shit, I’ll try but they’ve gone dark now.”

The ominous phrase that nobody liked to hear. Hayden glared at the terrorist standing in front of her.

“I sent all their worthless lives to a shitty hell, and spat on their filthy corpses. What do you think of that, asshole?”

“Back away!” the terrorist yelled. “You back away now or I will kill everyone!”

“You said that already.” Hayden came to within arm’s length. “How about you stop being such a fucking coward and point that gun at me?”

“I blow your head off! You stay!”

Cambridge whispered: “Thirty seconds!”

Hayden leaned forward and hissed: “Boo.”

The terrorist shrieked and whipped his gun toward her. Before he’d even pulled it halfway round both Dahl and Molokai had put bullets into his chest, above the bomb-vest. Hayden wasn’t watching. She saw Mark Starzynski shaking badly through her peripheral vision, and reached out to steady the hand that gripped the grenade.

“You’re safe now.”

To Cambridge she said, “All clear.”

The train thundered on, minutes from Dallas Union Station. Hayden ordered everyone on the entire train to lie down and hoped to everything she held dear that Cambridge managed to get the message through.

Dahl pulled the emergency brake and the train began to squeal, wheels shrieking as it came to a fast stop. Hayden slid forward. Dahl hung on and smashed through the nearest window.

“We’re not waiting,” he said as the train finally came to a halt. “The bureaucracy would end this entire mission.”

He was right. Hayden pulled her body upright and related all she knew about the woman with the captive husband to Cambridge.

“Try to help them.”

“Will do.”

Not knowing where the shooters were, but knowing they had no choice, they put their trust in Cambridge’s contacts and exited the train.

Already dashing headlong toward the next mission.