Drake attempted to divert Marsh. “We have the jacket. Where—”
“You’re not listening to me, Englishman. You were late. Do you remember the penalty for being late?”
“Marsh. Stop fucking around. Do you want your demands met or not?”
“My demands? Well, of course they will be met, when I decide I’m good and ready. Now, you three be good little soldiers and wait right there. I’ll just order up a couple of takeaways.”
Drake cursed. “Don’t do it. Don’t you bloody do it!”
“Speak soon.”
The line went dead. Drake stared into three pairs of haunted eyes and knew they were a mere reflection of his own. They had failed.
With a giant effort he managed to refrain from crushing the phone. Alicia took it upon herself to call in the imminent threat to Homeland. Mai made Gonzales shrug himself out of his jacket.
“Let’s get on with it,” she said. “We deal with what is before us and ready ourselves for what may come next.”
Drake studied the horizons, the concrete and tree-lined ones, mind and heart far away and crushed at the very idea of Marsh’s intentions. In the next few minutes innocents would die, and if he failed again there would be more.
“Marsh is going to detonate that bomb,” he said. “Whatever he says. If we don’t find it, the whole world will suffer. We’re standing on the very edge…”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Marsh laughed and hung up the phone with a flourish. Zoe cuddled in even further. “You sure showed him,” she purred.
“Oh, yes, and now I’m going to show him even more.”
Marsh plucked out yet another burner cell and checked the number he’d already saved to the memory. Convinced it was the right one he quickly dialed and waited. The voice that answered, all gruff and imposing, confirmed his expectations.
“You know what to do,” he said.
“One? Or two?”
“Two, as we agreed. Then move on in case I need you again.”
“Sure boss. I’ve been keeping up with events through my cellphone’s app. Would sure have loved me some of that action.”
Marsh huffed. “Are you a terrorist, Stephen?”
“Well, no I wouldn’t put myself in that class. Not exactly.”
“The do the job you’ve been paid to do. Right now.”
Marsh flicked one of the screens to a city camera, just a mini-surveillance unit the neighboring businesses used to keep tabs on the comings and goings along the sidewalk. Stephen would cause havoc along this particular street and Marsh wanted to watch.
Zoe leaned across, trying to get a better view. “So what else are we going to do today?”
Marsh stared. “Isn’t this enough for you? And you do suddenly seem a little soft, somewhat malleable, for a woman invited to join the big bad Pythians, Miss Zoe Sheers. Why is that? Is it because you like the mad in me?”
“I think so. And more than just a little. Maybe the champagne is going to my head.”
“Good. Now shut up and watch.”
The next few moments unfolded as Marsh wanted them to. Normal men and women would flinch at what they saw, even tough ones, but Marsh and Sheers viewed it with cold detachment. It then took Marsh only five minutes to save the footage and video-message it to the Englishman with the attached note: Send this on to Homeland. I’ll be in touch shortly.
He wrapped Zoe up in one arm. Together they studied the chase’s next scenario, which would have the Englishman and his three stooges actually knowing they would arrive too late before they even began. Superb. And the mayhem at the end… priceless.
Marsh remembered then that there were other people in the room. Ramses’ primary cell and its members. They were sitting so quietly in a far corner of the apartment that he barely recalled their faces.
“Hey,” he called. “The lady has run out of champagne. Would one of you drifter types be able to freshen her up?”
A man rose, his eyes filled with so much contempt that Marsh squirmed. But the expression was quickly masked and became a fast bobbing of the head. “Sure can.”
“Excellent. One more bottle should do it.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Drake watched Mai rip open the guard’s jacket as she searched for a list of demands. Alicia and Beau searched the gathering crowds, almost certain the last remaining member of the third cell would make some kind of move. Homeland were en route, only two minutes out. Sirens shrieked nearby as the cops gathered. Drake knew that by now the culminating incidents would have all New Yorkers on edge, and sightseers rattled. It might not be a bad thing if people stayed off the streets, but what more could the White House actually do?
Drones with radiation detectors were looping through the skies. Metal detectors were stopping everyone who merited attention and many who didn’t. The Army and NEST were here. So many agents were roaming the streets it felt like a veteran’s reunion. If Homeland, the FBI, CIA and NSA were doing their jobs correctly, then Marsh would surely be found.
Drake checked his watch. It was somewhat over an hour since this nightmare began.
Is that all?
Alicia nudged him. “She found something.”
Drake watched as Mai removed a folded sheet of paper from Gonzales’s ruined jacket.
The New Yorker winced at her and picked up a tattered sleeve in each hand. “Will the city give me comp… compen… compens—”
“The city can give you some advice,” Alicia said dead-pan. “Next time use a little warm oil. Don’t pay for bad company.”
Gonzales shut up and slunk away.
Drake moved over to Mai. Marsh’s demands had been printed on a white A4 sheet in what appeared to be the biggest typesetting. All in all, they were pretty straight forward.
“Five hundred million dollars,” Mai read out. “And nothing else.”
Beneath the demand was a sentence written in a contrasting small script.
“Details to follow shortly.”
Drake knew exactly what that meant. “We’re about to be sent on another wild goose chase.”
Beauregard watched the crowds. “And we remain under surveillance, no doubt. It is certain this time that we will fail again.”
Drake lost count of the cellphones being held up among the gathered throng, then heard the dull buzz of his cell’s message tone and checked the screen. Even before he clicked onto the video link his scalp started to itch with deep foreboding. “Guys,” he said and held the device at arm’s length as they crowded around.
It was grainy and it was in black and white, but the camera was steady and clearly showed one of Drake’s worst nightmares. “This is senseless,” he said. “Killing people who have no idea what’s going on. It’s not for terror, it’s not for gain. It’s for…” He couldn’t go on.
“Pleasure,” Mai breathed. “We dig up more of these bottom feeders every day. And the worst thing is, they dwell at the very heart of our communities.”
Drake didn’t waste another moment, but sent the link on to Homeland. The fact that Marsh appeared to be able to pluck his cellphone number out of the air wasn’t particularly surprising given all he’d accomplished so far. The terrorists helping him were clearly more than expendable foot soldiers.
Drake watched the cops do their jobs. Alicia moved closer to him, then randomly pulled up the leg of her pants. “Y’ see this?” she intoned. “Got this when you tried to kick my ass in the desert. And it’s still bloody fresh. That’s how fast this thing is moving along.”
Drake took more than one impression from her words. There was the memory of their bonding, their new attraction; the inference to Mai and Beau that something had happened between them; and the more obvious reference to her own life so far — how fast it had been moving and how she was trying to slow things down.