Drake nodded, still reeling a little. “Stop yer jabbering and move!”
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
The third flashing signal came from over near the supermarket. Drake hightailed it that way, bruises aching, self-esteem more than a little bit battered.
“If we see that bastard again,” he said. “We need to take him down hard.”
Mai rubbed the top of her chest. “I believe I underestimated him. Being French and all.”
“C’mon Little Sprite!” Alicia barked. “What are you? A country racist? Russians are bad because nothing works right. Frenchmen in tights are weak because they’re, well, French. Wow.”
Drake shook his head. “I shoulda known, after all that just happened, you would mention the tights.”
“What?” Alicia said innocently. “I mean they were rather tight. And that sexy high-kick near my face put his—”
“No.” Drake put his head in his hands. “Please no.”
“Oh yeah. He did it to you too, didn’t he?”
Drake saw the supermarket up ahead and pointed with blessed relief. “How’s the signal, Dahl?”
The Swede estimated the distances. “Puts our man inside the damn supermarket.”
They hurried along as time ticked away. Twenty five minutes remained until Coyote’s deadline. Drake entered through the broken window and glanced around at the damage they’d already helped cause.
“Cops are going to have fun with this in a day or two.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Crouch advised. “Cops are the least of our worries.”
Dahl followed his tracking device, at last coming up against the rear wall. “Damn. Just another bloody wall. What is it with this thing?”
Drake tested the construction. “Well, they can’t have put someone behind this thing and sealed it up again so fast,” he said. “Feels sturdy.”
“Wait.” Mai was moving along the wall. “Here.”
Drake paced to her side. “Coyote’s men are indeed bastards,” he said. “As if we needed more convincing.”
A heavy metal door stood before them, featureless except for a handle and vision panel. Nobody needed to be told this was the supermarket’s storage freezer. One glance inside confirmed a woman lying prone on the floor, hands and feet bound. When Drake knocked she didn’t move to acknowledge them.
“How the hell do we get in?” Alicia asked.
Drake eyed the nano-vests Crouch carried. “What about one of those?”
The Ninth Division man frowned. “Could kill the woman inside. And us. Could bring down the entire building.”
“Bollocks.”
“Wait.” Dahl stepped up and peered inside. “How far away is she from the door?” He stepped back. “Could work.”
“What?” Drake asked. “What could work?”
Dahl ran at a sprint through the supermarket and out the broken windows.
Drake looked around at his companions, face to face. “I really don’t like it when he gets an idea in his head.”
“Yeah,” Alicia said. “Forget the nano explosions. Here comes Torsten Dahl.”
And here he did come, at the wheel of a Toyota Hilux, teeth gritted and face set through the windshield, gunning the engine for all it was worth. The large vehicle smashed through the already demolished windows, shattering what glass and framework remained, then ploughed through the fallen shelves and piles of groceries. Drake and the team scattered. Dahl hung on grimly. Box displays and large baskets full of crisps and biscuits were destroyed, slithering under the wheels and smashing to left and right. The truck bounced, yawing over a pile of groceries. On an angle, the front bars struck the freezer door, pushing it back and shattering the frame. The Hilux came to a stop halfway through, and Dahl revved hard, slamming the vehicle into reverse.
“Fuck!”
Drake and the others, on their way forward, suddenly had to dive out of the way again.
Dahl burned rubber as he reversed fast, taking most of the door with him and smashing even more of the supermarket to pieces. Once the front wheels were clear, Drake ran again, this time bouncing from pile to pile and into the demolished freezer. He dropped to his knees beside the trapped woman.
Rolled her over. The eyes fluttered softly, the breathing shallow. He nodded at Crouch. “Do it.”
He watched the man disarm the ignition mechanism. In truth, now that he’d seen it done there was nothing to it. A simple matter of disengaging a wire and a metal plate. But if Crouch hadn’t been around… the results might have been much different.
If Crouch hadn’t been around…
The thought gave birth to a deeper consideration. Did Coyote quietly control Crouch’s presence in order to help with the vests? In order to realize their wider potential and see what might be coming?
But he was giving the woman too much respect, yet again. For some reason Shelly Cohen would just not transmogrify into the terrible mien of Coyote that he held in his mind. The match wouldn’t fit.
Crouch held up the vest. “Done.”
“Now, fast.” Dahl stepped down from the Hilux. “Number four is only at the village square, just a few minutes away. We have twenty minutes.”
“The center of town.” Drake nodded. “Sounds crafty and sly to me. This is the one, guys. Coyote’s final play. Dial in your best game and turn it up to A.”
Alicia was already moving. “Dude, that’s my only game.”
CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
Karin played a game of digital warfare against the great and notorious SaBo, only the risks and rewards involved were far beyond any ‘game’. They were life-threatening.
Time and again she breached his system, only to be routed out. Komodo kept her going with coffee and Mountain Dew. When his eyes started to glaze over from trying to keep track of the scrolling code, keywords and flashing warning signals, he wandered over to a second bank of computer terminals where a man wearing an army uniform sat at ease.
“How ya doin’?”
“Good.” The man he knew as Sergeant Pearson gave him a perfunctory smile. “Feeling a little undermanned at this moment. But otherwise okay.”
“Undermanned?” Komodo asked. Nobody had said anything about being undermanned.
“Budget cuts. Recession. We’re two men down twenty four hours a day. Add that up, sir, and that’s a lot of slack.”
“Damn straight.” Komodo nodded at the door. “How safe is this place?”
“Well, it’s not Tesco, sir, but it certainly isn’t MI6 either.”
Komodo grunted at the lack of real information. “Bud, we ain’t exactly got a great track record when it comes to safe houses. If there’s someone you can call I’d do it now.”
The ex-Delta man walked away, returning to Karin’s side.
“Sir,” the man called from behind. “This isn’t a safe house. It’s a joint government-private sector run building. We just rent the basement.”
Komodo just stared. “Then call someone.”
Karin glanced around at him. “What’s all that about, T-vor?”
“Nothing special,” he said. “How you doin’?”
“Wins and losses,” she said. “Nothing vital. SaBo’s reputation is well-deserved. It’s a dance, like combat, only we don’t get hurt like you do.”
Komodo grumbled. “I never felt combat was much like a dance.”
“You know what I mean. Look…” She tapped a button, executing a command. The picture flashed across immediately to the screen to her right, tracking the progress of her latest attack, showing circuits penetrated and firewalls breached. Several layers disappeared like confetti on the breeze, destroyed, but then a flashing grid-barrier stopped them and a net enveloped Karin’s point of infiltration. All of a sudden the screen went blank.