Authors: Tom Grace
Quantum (15 page)
Ann Arbor, Michigan
Quickly making their way to the main floor, Nolan and Kelsey rounded the corner into the vestibule and raced out through the front doors. As they reached the top of the steps, Kelsey looked down into the crowd on the Diag. Below, in the mass of people who now stood bewildered as the library burned, she noticed a group of men forcefully working their way through the crowd. In the middle of the group, one of the men quickly glanced back at the burning building.
‘Nolan, over there!’ Kelsey shouted, her voice full of surprise and anger. ‘That’s one of the movers.’
Nolan immediately shifted his gaze to where Kelsey pointed. The taut, muscular men stood out from the crowd like a team of athletes walking among the fans. They carried themselves differently than normal people, their posture and movement the result of skillful training.
‘I got ’em, Kelsey. Looks like a six-man unit in a close formation. You’re right about the tall blond one in the middle. The big guy in front of him was there, too. Come on.’
As they stepped down into the crowd, Nolan keyed through his phone’s memory and selected a number.
‘Major Crimes Unit, Detective Ptashnik.’
‘Nolan Kilkenny here. The Preservation Lab where Johann Wolff’s notebooks are being stored is on fire. Anyone who was inside is probably dead. I’m on the Diag headed toward the intersection of State and North University. About fifty yards in front of me is a group of six men who I believe are responsible for the fire. All are probable ex-Russian Special Forces. Two of them are wanted for murder, theft, and arson in Indiana. You need to get some cops down here ASAP.’
‘Shit. You sure about this, Kilkenny?’
‘Absolutely.’
‘All right, I’ll put the word out and get a car’ – Ptashnik paused – ‘fuck, the streets are blocked off for Art Fair. I’ll get the foot patrols moving to your location. What’s your number?’
Nolan carefully recited his phone number.
‘I’ll call you as soon as I get something moving on this end. Where are the suspects at now?’
‘They’re crossing State, looks like they’re heading into Nickels Arcade.’
‘Keep an eye on ’em. I’ll call back in a minute.’
Ann Arbor, Michigan
Leskov heard the sound of approaching sirens and instantly knew that firefighters were en route to the burning building. He scanned the crowded plaza; people were starting to edge away from the library as clouds of thick black smoke roiled upward. Bright orange-yellow flames danced at the base of the smoky column. The accelerant had completely engulfed the lab in seconds. The firefighters didn’t know it, but soon there would be nothing left for them to salvage.
‘Misha, where is rendezvous?’
‘The driver reports very heavy traffic, as expected, Dmitri. An accident is causing problems at the primary pickup site. He suggests we meet at the backup location.’
‘Approved,’ Leskov said. ‘Evgenii, take us to the backup site.’
‘
Da
, Dmitri,’ the point man replied.
The Russians waded through the audience gathered around a quartet of Peruvian musicians. Leskov smiled; the crowded streets were the ideal place for him and his men to disappear.
Evgenii led the way across State Street toward Nickels Arcade, a two-story glass-roofed gateway of small shops that bisected the long block of continuous storefronts.
The phone purred in Nolan’s hand.
‘Kilkenny,’ he answered.
‘It’s Ptashnik. I’ve got you on a speakerphone so we can relay information to the cops on the street. Where are you?’
‘We just crossed State and are moving toward Nickels Arcade.’
‘Understood. I want you to stay out of sight – do not let these guys see you following them. They’ll bolt or worse. There’s a pair of uniformed officers on Washington moving toward Maynard. What do these guys look like?’
Nolan described each of the men as best he could. As he spoke, someone in the background on the other end of the line parroted what he’d said.
‘Got it. Our patrol has spotted your Russians just exiting the arcade.’
‘That’s them,’ Nolan confirmed.
From where they stood, Nolan and Kelsey saw the six men leave the arcade onto Maynard Street. An earful of static told Nolan their signal was fading as he and Kelsey moved deeper into the arcade.
‘I’m losing you,’ Nolan hollered, hoping the detective could still hear him. ‘Call me in a minute.’
The connection was gone.
‘What’s going on?’ Fear resonated in Kelsey’s voice.
‘Two cops on Maynard have spotted the Russians. I just hope to God they hang back until they can get these guys in the clear, or we are going to have a genuine, grade-A clusterfuck. Look at all these people – nothing but shields and hostages.’
‘Oh my God.’ Kelsey’s fear grew stronger.
‘The tactical situation here is completely skewed in their favor,’ Nolan continued. ‘What we need is a handful of two-man teams on the ground, roving in the crowd, and a sniper team up above if we’re to have any chance of taking some of those men alive without killing a lot of bystanders.’
‘Dmitri,’ Josef said in a low voice. ‘Police.’
Leskov looked to the left. About twenty feet back, two uniformed police officers carefully waded through the crowd, moving in their direction. The younger of the pair tilted her head slightly as she spoke into a microphone clipped to her shoulder.
‘Continue moving,’ Leskov quietly ordered. ‘It’s probably nothing.’
Evgenii led the team right, veering away from the approaching officers. A concrete parking structure spanned over the midsection of the street, casting a dark, cool shadow where they walked. The crowd thickened in the sheltered space, seeking some relief from the sun.
‘Excuse me,’ the senior cop announced in a stern, serious voice.
Pivoting on his left leg, Kiril quickly spun around and drove the ball of his right foot into the side of the cop’s head. The momentum of the vicious spin kick flung the man headlong through a plate-glass window and into a large bookstore. The officer lay in a torn, bloody heap atop an overturned floor display of anthropology texts.
‘Officer down!’ the younger cop shouted into her radio as she drew her weapon.
In a swift, fluid motion, Josef drew a 9-mm Glock from the holster concealed against the small of his back, aimed, and fired three rounds through the woman’s chest. She fell back, collapsing on the pavement.
A woman screamed, and the crowd on Maynard Street panicked, spreading out away from the scene like a rippling aftershock.
‘Move!’ Evgenii shouted as he pushed a couple into a booth of hand-tooled leather goods.
The metal frame supporting the light fabric roof over the booth buckled as the couple grabbed for anything to halt their fall. They toppled through the fabric wall into the next booth, setting a domino effect in motion that brought the seven consecutive booths down to the ground. Ceramics, jewelry, and blown-glass art crashed onto the pavement and was trampled by the fleeing throng.
Josef holstered his weapon as the team moved toward Liberty Street. Leskov’s team pressed farther into the crowd, hoping to lose themselves amid the chaos.
‘Shit, gunfire!’ Nolan growled as he broke into a run toward Maynard Street, leaving Kelsey in his wake.
He took defensive cover behind the pillars at the end of the arcade, scanned the situation, and moved out into the street. Kelsey emerged onto Maynard just as Nolan reached the officer who’d been shot. The crush of people emptying out onto the adjacent streets turned the area into complete chaos. Several bystanders were trampled, including artisans who were crawling out from beneath the wreckage of their booths.
‘She’s dead,’ Nolan pronounced angrily. ‘What a fucking waste.’
He rose, looked around, then spotted the other officer through the shattered plate-glass window. Kelsey followed, and they traipsed over the debris from the ruined booths and stepped into the bookstore. Carefully, they lowered the fallen cop onto the carpeted floor.
‘How is he?’ Kelsey asked as Nolan checked for a pulse.
‘Unconscious, and cut to hell.’
Nolan pulled the microphone off the cop’s shoulder and keyed the switch. ‘This is Kilkenny. There are two officers down on Maynard between Liberty and William. One’s dead and the other needs a medic, stat. Over.’
‘Help’s on the way, Kilkenny,’ Ptashnik promised, his voice filled with concern. ‘Where are the fucks who did this?’
‘They’re somewhere on Liberty, probably heading west, away from the fair. They’ve done what they came to do, so they’re looking to exfiltrate. Kelsey Newton is going to stay here with your people until the ambulance arrives.’
‘Where are you going?’ Ptashnik asked.
‘I’m going to try and get my hands on these guys for you.’
‘Don’t you even think about it, Kilkenny!’ Ptashnik shouted.
‘You’re going to have to trust me on this one.’ Then he cut the transmission.
Nolan turned to echo the same thought to Kelsey, but before he could say a word, she handed him the wounded officer’s weapon. After checking the safety on the SIG-Sauer P226 and clipping the police radio to his waist, Nolan turned and disappeared down the street.
Ann Arbor, Michigan
Kilkenny cautiously approached the intersection, edging alongside a brick building that housed a copy center in its basement level. He slowly peered around the corner and saw that the Russians were moving west down the center of Liberty Street, between the parallel rows of booths that temporarily occupied the metered parking spaces.
He moved onto the sidewalk, using the booths as a screen between himself and the Russians. At the end of the block, he passed a seven-foot-tall bomb, painted like Old Glory, that stood beside the entrance of a militarysurplus store. The Russians cleared the last booths and stepped onto the sidewalk opposite Kilkenny – about half a block ahead of him. He easily picked them out in the thinning stream of people.
‘Ptashnik, this is Kilkenny. Over.’
‘I read you, Kilkenny.’ Ptashnik sounded pissed-off. ‘What’s happening?’
‘The Tangos are still on foot moving west on Liberty. They crossed Division and are nearing Fifth.’
‘Oh my God! He’s got a gun!’ a woman screamed when she saw Kilkenny crossing Liberty with his weapon drawn.
Leskov and two of his men turned at the scream and saw Kilkenny. The Russians immediately broke into a run toward Main Street.
‘Shit! They spotted me,’ Kilkenny cursed into the handset. ‘Tangos are heading toward Main.’
The radio chattered with commands and responses as the police drew their forces in. Officers on foot and in cars moved to cordon off the two-block stretch of Main Street where the cop killers were headed.
The Russian in the rear position turned and aimed his weapon. Kilkenny dove behind a parked minivan as the man fired; two rounds shattered the vehicle’s windshield. The sounds of gunfire cleared the sidewalk for two blocks as people ran for cover. Ahead, the Russians pressed forward into the thick crowd on Main Street.
‘They’re on Main, heading north from Liberty,’ Kilkenny reported.
He sprinted down the street, slowing when he reached the edge of the Art Fair’s downtown venue. Thousands of people had replaced the normal gridlock of cars.
The atmosphere was still festive as the panic of Liberty Street had not infected this area yet. The aroma of spiced lamb and onion accompanied the bouzouki music wafting from a Greek restaurant’s temporary sidewalk café. Up the block a nine-foot-tall inflatable Mongol warrior greeted passersby, encouraging all to dine at BD’s Mongolian Barbeque.
‘Ptashnik, Main Street is packed, and the Tangos are right in the middle of it. Where are those other cops?’
‘On the way,’ Ptashnik promised.
The police radio crackled as officers reported their positions, converging on the scene. Kilkenny pressed the two-way against his ear to better hear over the din around him. Frustrated, he pushed his way onto the sidewalk and began hurdling over the chain partitions that defined the outdoor seating areas of the Main Street restaurants.
‘Sir!’ a hostess shouted angrily. ‘You can’t do—’
‘Dmitri, on the sidewalk,’ Josef said.
‘I see him. It’s Kilkenny, the one who killed Pavel and the others. Josef, you’re with me. The rest of you follow Evgenii to the pickup. We’ll be right behind you.’
Leskov and Josef broke ranks, moving to intercept. Each readied his weapon as they approached their prey. The four other Russians hurried their pace, moving onto the last city block closed by the fair.
Kilkenny pushed his way through the long line of people waiting to be seated at the Mongol warrior’s restaurant, and finally reached the intersection of Main and Washington. From behind a wooden barricade, he surveyed the milling crowd, searching for the Russians. He spotted them as they passed into the next block, then realized that two were missing. Nearby, a patrol car quietly approached the intersection.
‘Turn around and keep your hands where I can see ’em!’ a cop shouted as the doors on the police cruiser flung open.
Kilkenny froze, then put both hands in the air.
As one of the officers approached, Nolan saw two of the men who attacked Sandstrom’s lab muscle their way through the restaurant’s queue. The Russians spotted Kilkenny and raised their weapons.
‘Gun!’ Kilkenny shouted as he dove for the curb.
The cops hit the pavement just as two shots roared past Kilkenny. Both flew wide of the mark, ricocheting off the pavement.
A woman screamed, pulling her children away from the restaurant’s giant mascot. Her youngest, a three-year-old boy, stumbled, and she lost her grip on his tiny hand. Hearing gunfire, the young man inside the inflatable suit dove over the child. The next shots ripped through the costume’s thick nylon skin, sending an explosion of pressurized air and fabric upward.
‘Time to go,’ Leskov announced as the window of opportunity for revenge closed.
Both men rushed with the crowd up Main Street toward Huron. On the other side of the barricade that marked the northern edge of the fair, Leskov saw the rest of his team climbing into the dark green Suburban that had brought them there.
Kilkenny stood up and began scanning the crowd for the Russians. He caught sight of the two men who’d just shot at him halfway up the block.
‘Freeze!’ the cop shouted.
‘Ptashnik!’ Kilkenny said angrily into the microphone, ‘tell the two cops at Main and Washington to lay off me right now. Your cop killers are getting away!’
Kilkenny watched the Russians move farther away while he impatiently waited for a reply.
‘Rookie, lower your weapon!’ the cop’s partner shouted as he jogged over from the patrol car. ‘This is the guy who was tracking these fucks for us. We’re here to back him up.’
‘Then let’s move it,’ Kilkenny ordered, leading the way down the sidewalk.
The crackling sound of automatic-weapons fire filled the air.
‘Oh my God!’ someone shouted, terror-stricken.
When he reached the toppled barricades at Huron Street, Kilkenny saw a plume of pale yellow steam rising from the grille of a police cruiser. Dozens of holes pockmarked the dark blue sedan. On the pavement, two more officers lay clinging to life. Farther up Main Street, a green Suburban with tinted windows sped north toward the highway.