Hayden leapt onto the hood of the SUV, firing without pause. Kinimaka shot out its tires. Doors opened on every side. Even the rear hatch came up. Men hurled their bodies clear, trying to twist and fire at the same time. But Hayden didn’t stop. She loped straight up the windshield, shooting ahead and to her left, darted across the roof of the car and then jumped clear, landing on a mercenary she had already shot. His body made for a soft landing.
In seconds her adversaries lay scattered at her feet.
All except one.
A thin whip of a man uncoiled himself from the back seat. The machine pistol in his hand didn’t waver as Hayden drew a bead on him.
“Germaine,” she said, recognizing him from the photos they’d seen of Kingston’s associates. “Aren’t you supposed to be at your boss’s side?”
“Bitch, I just follow orders. Same as you. He threw us to the wolves to make his escape.” The tense shoulders shrugged. “Comes with the territory.”
“How about I cut you a deal? I could make the next twenty years of your life feel like a sandy beach next to what they might be.”
Germaine pursed his lips. “What kinda deal?”
Kinimaka stepped around the front of the car, his bulk not designed to be stealthy. Germaine pointed his other hand at the Hawaiian, in which a stubby handgun magically appeared.
“Stay put, bud. Mountain or not, this baby will take you down.”
Germaine then smiled at Hayden. “I’m all ears, darlin’.”
Hayden saw his plan then. The role of the SUVs and every man inside, including Germaine, had been to slow the authorities down. What they hadn’t planned on was coming up against someone like her. All three cars had taken only two agents out of the race.
Hayden cocked her head. Maybe not.
A chopper landed on the nearby hard shoulder. Cops armed with rifles and wearing Kevlar vests stormed out, closing in on Hayden’s position. Germaine saw his fate and lowered his weapons. “Worth a try.”
Hayden’s gaze zeroed in on the idling chopper. Moving fast, she grabbed Kinimaka by the shoulder and manhandled him toward it.
“Mano,” she said, “Kingston’s still running. We ain’t out of this thing yet.”
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
Dahl blipped the Shelby Mustang’s potent throttle, feeling all five hundred and forty horses respond to his touch. The Korean’s limo weaved in front of him. He could take it any time, but held off until he perceived Kingston’s end game.
It wasn’t exactly subtle. But then, what had they expected from an arms dealer?
Five vehicles blasted onto Palicki airfield, soon to be joined by two more. The Viper streaked ahead, racing around the entrance to the parking lot and aiming for the mowed-grass borders that separated the airfield’s civilian frontage from its runway system. Dahl knew that with this being strictly a low-key private airfield meant that the fences inside were easily breached, but then he saw that even that didn’t matter. Kingston must have called ahead. Gates were open and a Gulfstream IV was taxiing out of a small hangar. The G-IV was a twin-jet engine aircraft. It would take a two-man cockpit crew and up to nineteen passengers. Kingston was running, no doubt about that, and he wasn’t planning on coming back.
Was he even planning on taking the Korean General with him?
Dahl closed right up to the limo. Behind him, Komodo sat at the wheel of the surviving Humvee, his face a mask of concentration. Now, fanning out to the left, the Swede could see Drake and Alicia, making a police-decaled Dodge Charger scream in fury. Then, crazy to see, a helicopter blasted from out of nowhere, swooping low over the tops of the cars as it joined the race.
Hayden.
Dahl tweaked some more speed out of the Mustang. The Viper raced toward the jet aircraft as the plane began to accelerate down the airfield’s longest runway. The limo roared as it struggled to keep pace. Drake’s Charger edged past them on the outside. Komodo’s Humvee tucked in behind. The Helicopter swept at an angle, arrowing hard toward the Gulfstream.
Without warning the plane’s forward hatch slid open. Two armed men leaned out with what looked to Dahl like multi-grenade launcher weapons in their hands.
He looked across, reading Alicia’s lips: Fuck me!
Dahl gave Drake half a smile as he goosed the Mustang to its limit and wrenched the wheel sideways, passing under the tail of the speeding Gulfstream and in front of the limo. The limo driver gave up the ghost, slamming hard on and sending the vehicle into a multi spin. The Viper roared as it raced alongside the jet aircraft, closing in. Drake’s Charger gained new swiftness as it pealed out to the Viper’s offside. The helicopter dove in, drifting sideways as it flew, enabling Hayden and Kinimaka to draw beads on the two guys and take them out of the picture.
Their guns bounced off the runway; their bodies bounced back inside the plane.
Dahl swore loudly. The shock, elation and danger of the chase urged him to keep going. But he could see Komodo stopping beside the damaged limo and knew the ex-Delta man needed back up. The Mustang responded without complaint as he blipped the brakes and jammed on the handbrake, performed a swift one-eighty, and took off again fast enough to leave smoke obscuring his wake.
Komodo stepped out of his vehicle and approached the limo’s driver side. “Hands up!” he cried. “Come quiet, now. My little friend here would love to make a meal of you.”
Dahl stepped on the brakes, leaping out as the Mustang still drifted forward. He approached the limo’s passenger side, slipping out a Glock. The doors opened slowly. Both Dahl and Komodo stopped walking, taking aim.
A Korean stepped out of each door, hands held high. The first, a driver, fell to his knees, clearly more than petrified. Motion sickness was making the man was throw up all over himself, his body weaving even as he tried to remain frozen.
“On the ground,” Komodo said. “Arms behind your backs.”
Dahl glanced wistfully back at the ongoing race. If only he…
Then a fifth Korean emerged. He wore the tunic of North Korea, the flag stitched to the lapel. He glared unflinchingly and fearlessly at Torsten Dahl and he held a cell phone to his right ear.
“Engage final protocol.” Dahl heard him say in English, clearly for the Swede’s benefit as a last fuck you. “I repeat — engage final protocol. Blow up the island.”
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
Mai was standing right next to the communications console when the call came in. She was tending to Hibiki’s wounds whilst Smyth secured the Korean soldiers with twine and rope and anything else he could find. The marine had even started to eye the soldiers’ feet in consideration of using their socks as gags if they didn’t shut up jabbering about freedom and victory and the Goddamn People’s Republic.
Then, the console started flashing in front of her. Balancing on her knees beside Hibiki, she looked up. The console was made up of various toggles, big colored buttons and what looked like a sat-nav system. Around it were arrayed various sized monitors. A vivid blue light began to flash, a claxon-like ring tone sounded, and then some kind of automation program answered the call.
A hasty voice filled the room, “Engage final protocol. I repeat — engage final protocol. Blow up the island.”
Mai turned swiftly. The Korean army at last went silent. Smyth met her eyes. “Are you fuckin’ kidding me?”
With that, another ominous noise came over the brash loudspeakers, a noise that filled the room. The alarm — the intermittent clang of a horn of doom, and then a robotic voice. “Warning. Warning. Final protocol engaged. Final protocol will occur in four minutes.”