The Marauder was bad news.
The rear opened and four masked Blue Berets spilled out. They moved in pairs, two approaching the front and the other moving into an alley, soon out of Damien’s view. One of the front Berets carried a mini battering ram in one hand, black and no larger than a fire hydrant.
Damien adjusted the straps on his ruck and fetched Jay.
‘Looks like DC’s boss is on a slightly different page to him. We’re leaving,’ Damien said. ‘Now.’
Jay winced as Damien hauled him to his feet. ‘I can’t move, you know that.’
‘Look, your arrow wound has already healed over,’ Damien said. ‘We can do this.’
‘Yeah, I have another hole now,’ Jay said. ‘And it’s less fun than the last one!’
With Jay’s arm over his shoulder, Damien pulled him to the door, then changed his mind. He took him back to the window next to the air-conditioning unit.
He watched the pair of Blue Berets move below them. He heard the steel ram hit the glass, their boots crunching as they stepped through.
‘Take the rock and run,’ Jay said. ‘Across the rooftops — whatever, you’re the only one who has a chance at getting away.’
Damien levered the window open. ‘I’m not leaving you here so shut up.’
‘If you have the rock they’ll go after you,’ Jay said. ‘Won’t even know I was here.’
’Damien looked through the window and caught a glimpse of a figure silently following the Berets in.
They weren’t on the same side.
Jay held a finger to his lips.
Gunfire cracked below.
‘Now,’ Damien said.
He climbed out, careful not to bang his head on the frame, and helped a less-nimble Jay out. Their footsteps on the fire escape were loud. He was glad the rain — and the gunfire — masked them.
‘They’re dead,’ Jay said in his ear.
He looked over to see the .50 cal operator slumped on the roof of the Marauder. The driver wasn’t visible.
There were no stairs below their fire escape level, just the extendable ladder that dropped to the footpath. Damien pulled the latch to release the ladder but it wouldn’t budge. He tried with both hands.
‘Give it here,’ Jay said. He clamped both hands on the latch and winced.
It was rusted in place.
No time.
Damien stepped over the handrail and onto the roof of the Mexican Grill. He landed neatly with both feet, knees bending to keep the noise low. He moved forward to give Jay room. The gap was three feet wide but Jay was another three feet above.
He could see Jay struggle to duck under the handrail and jump. He didn’t make it.
Damien dived forward as Jay’s hands reached the edge. He hung from the edge. One hand slipped. Damien grabbed the other. Used his other hand to brace and pull Jay up.
Gunfire cracked from inside. The operatives were deeper in the foyer, fighting the masked Blue Berets.
Rain poured through Damien’s hair, mixing with the styling wax Jay had made him use and running into his eyes. It stung and he could barely see Jay dangling right in front of the apartment block entrance.
Damien crawled forward to check the distance. Under Jay there was another six feet or so to the pavement. Jay looked up and nodded. Damien released him. Jay landed roughly, not quite in a roll but more of a hand-plant to one side. Further downtown Damien noticed another vehicle emerge, headlights peering through the rain.
Cheetah — a smaller, lighter armored vehicle.
Damien moved across the Mexican Grill roof and jumped from the end, landing and rolling with his ruck on. He doubled back to snatch Jay and haul him to the Marauder. Its lights were still on and the engine running. He was well aware both Jay and himself were unarmed, and any stowed weapons inside the Marauder would be useless to them.
Moving along the road, away from the pavement and the alleyways, he brought Jay to the rear, avoiding the headlights so they stayed as concealed as possible.
Along the way he saw the driver slumped sideways, motionless. The .50 cal operator was slumped, half dangling from the gunner platform in the roof. The Marauder’s rear cabin had seats on either side and was large enough to fit six people. The rear doors were open so Damien helped Jay up the metal steps. Jay could shut the doors himself; Damien didn’t have time.
Another Marauder hit the intersection behind them, exposing Damien with its headlights. Reinforcements were here.
Damien ran for the driver’s cabin, jumped on top of the driver and shut the door, meteorite and ruck still fastened snugly to his back. He released the handbrake and planted his foot on the gas.
The heavy Marauder growled forward and he heard the dead .50 cal operator fall from the platform and tumble into the rear cabin. As long as he didn’t fall on Jay, Damien didn’t care. He used his spare hand to roll the dead driver onto the co-pilot seat, ignoring the slick of blood in his wake.
Something landed on top of the Marauder, hard. Damien hoped it wasn’t some sort of explosively formed penetrator. The Marauder could handle most explosions except those designed to penetrate or fragment heavy armor.
The Cheetah continued toward them, undeterred. Behind Damien and Jay, the second Marauder started to slow, only to speed up again as it realized what was happening. Something moved across their Marauder’s roof and in the mirror Damien noticed someone vault into the rear of the cabin, almost on top of Jay.
Damien hit the brakes and the doors swung shut, knocking the imposter to the floor. The door, armored like the rest of the vehicle, opened slowly again. Jay slid toward the opening, hands slipping on the floor.
Chapter 31
‘Close the fucking door!’ Nasira yelled.
‘I’m trying!’ Aviary screamed back.
Nasira kept her pistol trained on the doorway to the MTA’s Operations Control Center. The big stupid metal door remained open and the only way to close it was remotely. Or electronically. Or Aviary-ly. And Nasira didn’t like that.
She could hear gunfire somewhere in the terminal and that was usually a good sign to get out of here. Not stay put in one place with no other means of escape and be a fucking idiot. But Aviary had a bright idea, which Nasira quickly realized was evolving into a suicide attempt.
Hunched over a computer in the center of the very long, expansive control center, Aviary worked a computer mouse and made a whole bunch of things jitter across a large screen on the wall. Which she noticed was actually twenty-one screens seamlessly joined.
The center was just two very long desks, each long enough to accommodate twenty operators. Flatscreen monitors hovered on floating mounts and wheeled office chairs were scattered across a horrible green-and-red striped carpet that reminded Nasira of boiled candy. The shitty kind.
‘We don’t have time, Aviary,’ she said.
Each panel twitched and became a security camera feed. That’s when Nasira noticed Blue Berets moving through the concourses. Some of the cameras showed Blue Berets with helmets. Others showed Blue Berets with ballistic masks. That wasn’t looking good.
The blue metal door groaned and slid closed. Nasira lowered her Glock. Thank fuck for that.
She turned to see Aviary shouting at the big screen.
‘It’s Sophia!’
And she was right. On one of the security camera feeds, Nasira saw Sophia move smoothly through the dining concourse. She held a sword in one hand and a Glock in the other. Pressed against her back was someone Nasira didn’t recognize. But she was helping her. And she was wielding a carbine.
‘Who’s with her?’ Nasira said.