Karin sighed. “And another attack is thwarted.”
“What about your secret weapon?”
Karin smiled. “Worming its way through a myriad of redundant circuits. It is most definitely the key to beating SaBo. I just have to keep him busy until it gets to where I need it to be.”
“Got it.”
The room’s single door swung open. Komodo, still thinking of Sergeant Pearson’s words, swung around with a hand hovering over his holstered weapon. A Glock was all they would let him keep, and that only as a courtesy. To Komodo, it felt a little like brandishing a lollipop, but he knew the effect would be somewhat different.
Now, however, only Pearson came into sight. “We just received an update from the field,” he reported. “Our forces have assembled at Sunnyvale. The SAS are there, coordinating with elements of the British Army, Hostage Rescue, what was SO13 and SO12, now SO15, and CO19 along with the Special Projects Unit, which had actually been formed to combat hit men, or assassins, and several units of special police are ready to move. Hardware is on the ground and in the air. A full-scale assault will begin within the hour.”
Karin bit her lip. “They are aware of the merc army, yes?”
Pearson nodded. “We have civilians already in extreme danger. Their safety is the prime concern. The Prime Minister and COBRA have signed off on it. They’re going in, Miss.”
Karin nodded, her eyes betraying her concern. Not only for her friends but for everyone involved. An assault would leave many dead. But if she could just defeat SaBo in time, she might be able to help save lives.
In her distress, apprehension and determination she failed to notice that one of SaBo’s lesser signals had breached the tiniest part of her system. It would feed him nothing, give him no upper hand in their cyberbattle.
But if he piggybacked a cell signal onto it he would instantly have their location.
CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT
Drake raced out of the supermarket, hitting the concrete running. The team pounded along at his side, Crouch already falling back. After only a minute’s sprint he pulled up short.
“Wait!”
Everyone reined it in around him. He held up a finger. “Listen.”
The unmistakable sound of military choppers, of military might, and even the sound of a gathering force drifted on the breeze and beat a rhythm through the clouds. Drake made a face.
“That is more than a slow assembly, my friends. That is the sound of a military force getting ready to strike.”
“You’re right.” Crouch nodded as he finally lumbered up. “But they have to wait. They need to wait. Not just because they don’t know about the nano-vests, but because of their presence. What else could Coyote have up her damn sleeve?”
Drake pointed to the rear of the supermarket. “You did it once, sir. Time to go again.”
Crouch nodded. “Agreed. Oh, and Drake? I already told you I am no longer anyone’s boss. So stop calling me sir. Crouch will do. Or Michael.”
“Mick?” Alicia piped up. “Mickey? Miks? Oh, I like that.”
Crouch glared into her face. “Keep on talking, Myles, and I’ll be happy to blacken your other eye. No charge.”
Alicia turned away. The black eye was a matter of pride. Or rather — injured pride. She glared at the town. “Shouldn’t we be going?”
The four SPEAR team members approached Sunnyvale’s town square with extreme caution. The area was an open grid, lined with thick stone pavers and bordered by a waist-height stone wall. Several gaps in the wall provided entrances, each one marked by twin ornate posts. Above it all a pitched tiled roof provided shelter, held up by thick wooden columns. Flanking the square itself were two rows of stores and cafes, a large dilapidated-looking hotel with a ‘Closed for Refurbishment’ sign across the door and other businesses, a road leading toward the castle, and another leading out of town. A reddish light lit the skies above the square, casting a ruddy, almost fiery glow over the entire scene.
Nothing moved; not an early riser nor even an inquisitive bird. No sounds intruded upon the deep blanket of silence.
But a dozen men stood inside the town square. And another dozen stood around the outside.
And one smaller figure stood before them all. Revealed at last for all that she truly was.
Shelly Cohen.
The Coyote.
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE
Drake saw no value in sticking to the shadows. He walked straight out into the middle of the road and toward Coyote.
Life obviously continued during those next few minutes. Seconds passed. Minutes blurred. Men and women loved and cried and died. Governments plotted. Young children dreamed of being Elsa or Anna, as most young children did in those days. The whole world kept on turning.
Matt Drake stopped not ten feet from the Coyote.
“You have been on my mind, Matt Drake.” The sugary tones hadn’t changed. “And I know — dumb of me to keep up that kind of connection. But sharp of me to focus on my worst enemy.”
Drake stared, trying not to let his mouth drop open. Even after all this, after everything he now knew, he still imagined someone else might pop out and start up some kind of manic laughter. It couldn’t be Shelly… could it?
“I don’t get it,” he said honestly.
Shelly shrugged, her long, dark hair falling across one tanned cheek. “Imagine my surprise then. When I found out I was a closet psychopath and somehow needed to vent the urge. Every—” she shrugged again, “couple of weeks.”
Drake sensed his team coming up behind. “What does that mean? You ‘found out’ you were a psychopath.”
“It’s not something they tell your parents when you’re born, Matt. Not written on your birth certificate. You figure it out. More pleasure is gained from performing one act than another. The trick is — harnessing it.”
Drake closed his eyes. “I’ve been looking for you for years.”
“I’ve followed your trail,” Coyote said. “You know you gotta stay frisky. Maybe after this, you can let it go.”
“You murdered my wife, and… and—”
What would she do? Deny it? Say—“I know” and fuel his wrath? Apologize?
But Shelly Cohen just stared at him, blank expression betraying no emotion.
“And Michael?” Drake almost spat at her. “The Ninth?”
Coyote’s gaze flicked away very briefly. “Only the second job of my career that I almost refused to do.”
Drake guessed the first. “Why?”
“What? Coyote? It’s my outlet and I enjoy it. Do I have regrets? Yes. Would I do things differently than I have? Yes. But, as you know Matt, to stay on top sometimes you have to do bad things.”
“Like this?” Drake indicated the town around them. “Harming innocent people?”
“Kovalenko was very clear when he hired me. Carry out his wishes regarding you four and the rest of your annoying little team. And listen to the instructions of Tyler Webb.”
Alicia shifted a little. “Who?”
Coyote said nothing, her eyes never leaving Drake.
“So here we stand,” Drake said. “What’s next? You gonna get your goons to mow us down in cold blood?”
“Personally, I’d like to gut every last one of you.” Coyote licked her lips and smiled lasciviously. “And taste the blood. But, again, Kovalenko’s orders were specific.”
Drake heard the words coming out of her mouth. Like the rest of the Ninth boys he had known Shelly Cohen took on jobs of her own, but the sight of this cold-blooded, eager killer still grated on him. “How specific?”
“You four must fight and die.” She smiled; the charming, monstrous host. “Last man standing. Remember?”