Damien caught sight of Jensen retreating behind the archway and the safety of the soldiers. Damien couldn’t do anything about it — he had three soldiers moving toward him, each wielding a spatha. More were pushing in from the side, away from the archways. Jay had chosen their direction and they had to stick to it now.
Damien clashed his blade with the soldiers’. Behind him, the black-helmed soldier traded blows with Jay. Damien retreated beside Jay’s assailant, which at least blocked those coming at him from the archway.
The three soldiers in front of Damien moved forward together. Beside him, Damien could see the black-helmed soldier stabbing and slashing at Jay. The soldier noticed Damien and swung his spear toward him, hoping the weapon’s length would reach.
Damien deflected the spear and, between trading blows with the three soldiers in front of him, used his sword to slam it downward, pinning it to the ground long enough for Jay to skewer the black-helmed soldier.
Damien swung his sword into the black-helmed soldier’s breastplate — the blow throwing him backward and freeing Jay’s spear from its penetration. Jay was again able to swing across the advancing soldiers from the archway.
Damien kept a foot under the dead soldier’s spear as he retreated. I could use that myself, he thought. He knocked off two more strikes as the three attackers compressed, growing confident. Damien waited for the archer on the balcony to draw an arrow. He leaned back as she released it. It passed an inch from his chest. He reached near the end of the spear and — in line with Jay — kicked it into the air. It bounced from his foot. He grasped it with one hand and threw it, aiming for the center of the three soldiers. It struck the middle soldier above the collarbone and he collapsed.
Jay was beside Damien, checking over his shoulder. They had almost reached the lattice glass doors. Jay turned the handle and used the hilt of his spear to spread the doors open. Damien risked a glance. It was an open terrace, and beyond it downtown New York, skyscrapers glittering in the night. Damien could see dark, menacing clouds rolling in toward the city. A strong wind chilled his tuxedo and made him squint to see properly.
They sprinted for the edge, but Damien wasn’t impressed to find at least a one-level drop between them and a rectangular terrace below covered in tennis court grass. It connected with the tower on the other side, and from there they could escape through the east tower’s elevators or stairs.
The soldiers moved onto the terrace in pursuit.
‘This is all your fault,’ Jay said. ‘If you’d just let me shoot Jensen it wouldn’t have happened.’
Damien sighed and discarded his spatha. ‘For once I don’t disagree.’
The leader emerged onto the terrace, puglio in hand. Under her pearl helm, he could see sweat beading across her face.
‘There is nowhere for you to—’
Damien jumped.
Chapter 16
‘Where’s the SUV?’ Sophia yelled.
Aviary fumbled with her iPhone. ‘Uh, wait, they’re still there. Not moving! Just half a block right ahead of us!’ She leaned forward, pointing through the shattered windscreen.
Sophia peered out her driver’s side window to see the vehicles ahead properly. She spotted the gray SUV about six cars ahead, in the right lane. It was sitting almost in the center of Times Square, a major junction between Broadway and the road she was stuck on now, Seventh Avenue. Triangular in shape, Times Square was — unfortunately for her — a pedestrian plaza. From where she was, stuck in the center lane, she couldn’t get much closer. Traffic wasn’t going anywhere.
In her rear-vision mirror she caught sight of the other gray SUV in the distance. It didn’t seem that its occupants had seen her yet, or at least identified her cab as the one that took them out, and they probably wouldn’t since they were all packed in with other cabs in every direction.
She looked over at the other side of the Times Square plaza. Broadway was closed from vehicles entirely: it was just foot traffic. But she spotted a black 4WD pulling up near the barrier adjacent to her. The occupants were slow to emerge, moving for the trunk to get their shopping out. The vehicle was facing outward, parked alongside a sunglasses stall on the sidewalk.
‘Take the wheel,’ she said to Aviary.
Sophia jumped from the cab, crunching her door against the poor car next to her. With her slim ruck still on her shoulders, she legged it past the glass ticketing building. She watched for the driver, intending on stealing his key.
As she reached the corner, past the metal barriers, a squad car pulled in front of her. Two officers emerged, pistols drawn.
‘Great,’ she muttered.
They were yelling at her to lie down on the pavement where she stood. The crowd dispersed around her. She did as she was told, following their instructions. Until they came too close.
The nearest officer holstered her pistol and reached for handcuffs. Sophia clamped the officer’s ankle, fixing her to the concrete, and pushed into her kneecap with her other hand. The knee went sideways. The officer wobbled and fell backward. Her leg straightened out, her foot still pinned by Sophia.
Sophia launched upward, unholstered the officer’s pistol and aimed it at her partner. She held he captured officer and, pulling her to her feet, used her as a shield. Sophia closed the gap, shifted her aim back to the head of her new hostage.
She could hear Aviary squealing in her ear. ‘I think they’re trying to get out of the SUV!’
When Sophia was close enough she slumped her hostage into the other officer and used her as a stepping-stone. She kneed the other officer in the face, jumped over and kicked him in the back of the head. She landed behind the pair, pivoted, stole the pistol from his holster. They crumpled to the floor together. With a stolen Glock in either hand she dumped the magazines on the road and tossed the pistols into the back of the squad car.
‘They’re moving! Still heading south!’ Aviary shouted. ‘Chute three of three!’
Lane three of three.
Sophia searched the right hip pocket of the second officer. She found his set of keys and took the squad car. She reversed, gently knocked them aside, and drove over the curb and onto the corner of the sidewalk.
She didn’t stop, pushing through the metal barriers. The barriers were all linked so they rattled along with her for a bit. She tried a J-turn, but they got in the way and she was only half-facing the SUV on the other side of Times Square.
The road was painted blue to indicate foot traffic. She drove over one of the entangled barriers. Her tires bit into the road. She accelerated, roared past a slanted ticketing building and toward the center of the Times Square plaza. Pedestrians — not expecting to look out for cars — scattered. Once the building was clear she could look across at the traffic on Seventh. She searched for the gray SUV and found it on the outside lane. It wasn’t moving.
She negotiated the metal poles through the plaza. Her squad car flattened a metal trashcan. Between her and the gray SUV: a few pedestrians and some metal tables and chairs, painted red. Above the gray SUV, the giant strobing arches of McDonalds.
She knew it would only be a matter of time before the SUV driver decided to pull up onto the plaza and illegally circumvent the traffic. But if she could box him in from the outside, she would deny him that option. The SUV would be trapped.
And she would have five armed men to deal with, she reminded herself.
Well, she’d cross that bridge when she came to it.
She drove through a red table and chairs, flinging them into the air. She was past the point of discretion. She had the NYPD in pursuit, and possibly the second SUV. And the first SUV would see her coming very soon. She hit another red table. The driver must have seen it.