Kinimaka saw Karin crawling around the back of the sofa. He beckoned her over, covering her brief run with gunfire. When she gained the bedroom she went straight to Hayden’s side.
“What can I do?”
“Nothing. But we might have to move her, so get ready. There are two more ways outta here. One through a trapdoor, the other out the back. Hayden can’t go down the trapdoor, that’s for sure.”
“Okay.”
Kinimaka loosed another bullet. “And Hayden seems to think they found us by using the Grid. That sound right to you?”
“The Grid? You mean the Special Agent Grid? That’s unhackable.”
“So’s the DOT’s secret traffic signal system. But they broke into that.”
“Bloody hell. I’m not even sure I could—”
“We need you to unhack the hack,” Kinimaka said. “And fast.”
“Well, I need a computer first. And how do they even know the Grid exists? Very few are privy to that kind of information, Mano.”
“This bastard, Kovalenko. He has his fingers into everything.”
“No. He has a major insider—”
“Not now.” Kinimaka saw they were losing the battle. The team was on the defensive. They only had scope for one more gigantic effort. “Gotta go.”
The big Hawaiian plowed into the room, lining up his targets. In a matter of seconds he plucked Lauren from the floor and threw her bodily back into the bedroom, sending her tumbling through the open door. In another second he was level with Yorgi and yelling at him to take Moxley and retreat. The Russian thief took her weight and dragged her away. Kinimaka held strong as a bullet smashed into him, striking his Kevlar vest. He charged at the crowd of men, splitting them apart like bowling pins and then, when he reached the other end of the room, he ripped the shattered, dangling door right off its broken hinges.
The attackers turned toward him. Kinimaka swung the big door like a baseball bat, smashing every man aside. The timbers shattered, falling apart as they hit. Kinimaka was left with shards of wood in his hand and an open front door behind him.
Could they…?
But then Smyth collided with him, bouncing clear. Kinimaka locked eyes with the albino.
“Fancy a shot at the title, big boy?”
He didn’t. Kinimaka grabbed hold of Smyth and hurled the ex-Delta soldier toward the far door. At his feet, felled men were beginning to stir. He had dropped his gun when he wielded the door and now didn’t have time to look for it.
“Back away,” he said to the albino. “Now.”
“You ever been to jail, big boy?”
Kinimaka felt pissed. Suddenly, it was okay for everyone to be sizist was it? “No. And stop calling me ‘big boy’, you vile white devil.”
“In jail, you speak like that, it’s like issuing a challenge. You need to learn more respect… big boy.”
Kinimaka never stopped moving, easing carefully past the one remaining attacker, knowing that he didn’t want to provoke this man. Now was one of those times when retreat seemed more prudent than wading into battle. Not only that, he had seven bruised buddies about to wake up.
Komodo rose unsteadily, giving the Hawaiian a hard look. Kinimaka realized he might have inadvertently taken his own man out too. That sure wouldn’t help his clumsy reputation. Smyth finally managed to compose himself and turned, reaching for a weapon.
Kinimaka backed away. “You good enough to take all three of us, chalky?”
The albino’s eyes raised and narrowed, red-rimmed and bloodshot against his pure white skin. Shit, Kinimaka thought. The crazy bastard’s up for it!
Faster than thought, Kinimaka turned and ran. Komodo moved with him. Smyth squeezed off a round. Maybe they could have stayed and defeated the albino, but Hayden’s life was more important now. They flew into the bedroom. Karin already had Hayden sitting in an upright position, and had wrapped some duct tape they had found in the kitchen around both her wounds. Hayden’s head hung low, but rose when Kinimaka ran to her.
“Let’s get outta here.”
He started to scoop her up, but then Smyth held out a hand. “Wait,” he said.
“We can’t wait.”
The angry man glared over at Kinimaka. “I said wait. I didn’t say it for fun.”
Komodo’s stance changed. His whole demeanor altered from one of aggression to one of relief.
“They’re gone,” Smyth said. “They just got up, listened as the albino took a call, and left.”
Kinimaka sighed with relief. “Now we can get her to a hospital.”
“For that to happen,” Karin said. “Kovalenko must have called them off. Only he could do that. And that means…”
“Something huge is going down,” Komodo said. “Only that would make the Blood King feel the need to interrupt his vendetta.”
“Fire up a computer,” Kinimaka told Karin. “See if you can take down the Special Agent Grid. And Komodo, grab a satnav. I want the nearest hospital programmed in. And Smyth—”
The soldier still glared at him.
“Go outside. Take a look around and over the city. Maybe head up to the roof. I wanna know what happens the moment it hits.”
CHAPTER THIRTY SIX
Drake felt like a man leaping to his own doom as he jumped onto the escalator’s central divide and sailed down in Dahl’s wake. The surface was slippery smooth, contributing to a swift increase in their speed. Drake heard a whoop from behind and knew that Alicia had climbed on too.
One after the other, the three SPEAR team members slid toward the Blood King, his men, and the President at high speed, firing high but still making them duck their heads and lose focus. One man tripped and fell headlong down the escalator. Dahl smashed through an oblong-shaped upright in the center of the divide, but barely noticed. His balance was perfect and never altered. He flew down the entire escalator at high speed, in just a few seconds hitting the end with his legs high and tucking to control his inevitable tumble. He landed, rolled and came up with his gun raised just as the Blood King’s men jumped down the last few steps.
The African leaped at him. Drake landed in a tangle. Alicia cheered, enjoying the air time as she flew off the escalator, landing on her knees and sliding across the polished floor. Dahl stood up to the African, offering no quarter and giving no retreat. The Blood King and two of his men ran straight at Drake. The other man collapsed at the bottom of the escalator, right onto his face. It appeared his hands were tied.
President Coburn stooped down to help him.
Drake rose and waded right into Kovalenko, welcoming the attack. It felt good to pound the Blood King’s flesh. He doubled the man over with a strike to the plexus, broke his nose with a rising knee, and smashed an elbow into the upcoming neck. All standard stuff, but Kovalenko staggered away, gurgling. The next two men looked to be a tougher prospect. Drake sidestepped a knife thrust and broke the wielder’s wrist, then maneuvered the man so his colleague couldn’t get past. The first man was far from finished, however, and propelled Drake back against the wall. Once there, his colleague stepped around. Drake ducked a stiffened fingerstab, letting it strike the wall, then grabbed hold of the man by the back of the neck and smashed his face against the hard surface. He turned once again to the man with the broken wrist.
To find President Coburn in the act of stabbing a piece of jagged plastic hard into the man’s neck from behind; an act that took some solid balls.
When the man folded, blood spraying, Drake nodded. “Mr. President.”
Kovalenko cried out in rage. In a moment of frustration he lunged toward Coburn, but the President stood his ground, shrugging off the Russian’s attack. Kovalenko staggered, seemingly bowed by defeat.