The Edge of Armageddon (17 page)

He leaned over so that his body crushed both hers and the backpacks’ contents. “Now it is time for your last visit to the zoo. I will allow Matt Drake the honor of finding you,” he whispered. “As the bomb detonates.”

Hayden heard the words, the implications in them, but found herself wondering what failsafe could be more spectacular that what he already had planned.

Hayden slipped and bumped around in the rear of the small truck. The legionnaires had deposited her, still strapped to the bomb, in back, at their feet as they occupied the benches on both sides. The trickiest part of the entire trip was maneuvering her out of the apartment block. The legionnaires wasted no time trying to disguise her; they shoved her where they wanted her to go and walked with guns exposed. Anyone who saw them would be killed. Luckily for them, most people seemed to be heeding warnings and staying home in front of their TVs or laptops. Ramses made sure Hayden saw the truck that pulled up at the curb alongside the dark alley, grinning all the time.

Black with SWAT markings.

Who would stop them? Question them? In time, perhaps. But that was the whole point of everything that had happened so far. The speed and execution of every part of the plan had tested America’s responses beyond the limit. Reactions had been anticipated, and the real kicker was that the terrorists simply didn’t care. Their only agenda was the death of a nation.

They used 57
th
Street to head east, avoiding patrols and cordons where they could. The snarls were there, the odd abandoned vehicle and groups of onlookers, but Gator himself was a New York native, and knew all the quieter, seemingly fruitless routes. The city’s grid system helped, making it easy for the driver to return to a pre-planned route. They went slowly, carefully, knowing the Americans were still responding, still anticipating, and only a few hours into realizing that the bomb might already be there.

Even now, Hayden knew, there would be White House officials advising caution, quite unable to accept that their borders had been compromised. There would be others scrambling to engineer a profit from the situation. Still more getting the hell out of Dodge and screw the taxpayers. She knew Coburn though, and hoped his closest advisors were as dependable and savvy as he.

The journey bruised her. The legionnaires kept her steady with their feet. Sudden stops and large potholes made her nauseous. The backpack moved beneath her, its hard innards always unnerving. Hayden knew this was what Ramses wanted—her final moments to be filled with terror as the timer ticked down.

Less than half an hour passed. The roads were quiet, if not empty. Hayden couldn’t tell for sure. In another novel twist to his plan Ramses ordered Gator to tie Marsh and Sheers to the bomb alongside Hayden. These two complained and fought and even began to scream, so Gator duct taped their mouths and noses, sat back until they subsided, and then gave their nostrils chance to draw in a little air. Marsh and Sheers then began to cry almost in unison. Maybe they had harbored dreams of release. Marsh squealed like a new-born and Sheers sniffed like a boy with man-flu. As a punishment for them both—and unfortunately for Hayden too—Ramses ordered them strapped naked to the nuke, which caused all kinds of problems, contortions and even more sniffling. Hayden bore it well, imagining the Lovecraftian horror they might now resemble and wondered how the hell they were going to get through the zoo.

“We’ll finish inside,” Gator regarded the mass critically. “Five minutes tops.”

Hayden noticed the bombmaker spoke perfectly well when dealing with his boss. Maybe anxiety caused the shrill rise in his voice. Maybe excitement. She refocused as the truck pulled to a halt and the driver let the engine idle for a few minutes. Ramses exited the cab and Hayden figured they might be at the entrance to the zoo.

Last chance.

She struggled mightily, tried to rock from side to side and scrape the duct tape away from her mouth. Marsh and Sheers groaned and the legionnaires planted their boots upon her, making it hard to shift, but Hayden fought back. All it needed was an odd crash, an out-of-place rocking motion, and flags would be raised.

One of the legionnaires cursed and jumped over her, crushing her even harder to the nuke and the bed of the vehicle. She groaned into the duct tape. His arms enfolded her body, preventing all movement, and by the time Ramses returned she could not breathe.

With a gentle rev of the engine the truck started forward again. Slowly, it drove and the legionnaire removed himself. Hayden sucked in lungfuls of air, cursing her luck and the faces of all those that surrounded her. Presently, the vehicle halted and the driver turned off the engine. Silence descended as Ramses, now clad in a rudimentary SWAT uniform, stuck his head into the back.

“Target achieved,” he said emotionlessly. “Wait for my signal and get ready to carry them between you.”

Helpless, it was all Hayden could do to breathe as five legionnaires positioned themselves around the bizarre bundle and prepared to lift. Ramses banged on the door, the all-clear, and one man flung it open. Then the legionnaires heaved the bundle into the air, carried it out of the van and along a tree-lined path. Hayden blinked as daylight stung her eyes, and then grabbed a brief glimpse of where she was.

A wooden canopy stretched overhead, supported by frequent brick pillars, wrapped around with greenery. A well-presented and paved sun-trap it was currently deserted, as Hayden imagined was the rest of the zoo. Perhaps a few hardy tourists were taking advantage of the uncrowded sights, but Hayden doubted the zoo would be allowed to admit anyone for the next few hours. Most likely Ramses had convinced the zoo’s guards that SWAT was here to ensure the area was entirely safe. They were carried along a path lined by arches and hanging greenery until a side door stopped them. Gator gained access by force, and then they were inside a high-ceilinged area composed of wooden walkways, bridges, and many trees that helped with the humid atmosphere.

“Tropical zone,” Ramses nodded. “Now Gator, arm the package and set it well into the undergrowth. We don’t want any early accidental sightings.”

Hayden and the rest of her precarious bunch were deposited onto a wooden floor. Gator adjusted a few straps, added more duct tape for stability, and then fiddled with a roll of extra wire until he announced that the detonator was securely twined around the prisoners.

“And the rocker switch?” Ramses asked.

“Do you really want to add that?” Gator asked. “Marsh and Sheers might set it off prematurely.”

Ramses gave the man a speculative nod. “You are right.” He hunkered down beside the bundle, the backpack resting on the floor, Hayden tied directly on top and then Marsh and Zoe atop her. Ramses’ eyes were level with Julian Marsh’s head.

“We will be adding a sensitivity switch,” he said softly. “A rocker device that, if you are lifted or perform any big movements, makes the bomb detonate. I advise that you remain still and await the arrival of Miss Jaye’s team mates. Don’t worry, it won’t be long.”

His words sent shivers all the way down Hayden’s body. “How long?” she managed to gasp.

“The timer will be set for one hour,” Ramses said. “Just enough time to allow Gator and I to reach safety. My men will remain with the bomb, a last surprise for your friends, if they manage to find you.”

If?

Ramses stood up, taking a final look at the package he had had made, at the human flesh and the storm of fire beneath them, at the terrified expressions and the power he exhibited over all of them.

Hayden closed her own eyes, now unable to move, a terrible pressure crushing her chest against the ungiving bomb and making breathing beyond difficult. These might be the last moments of her life, and she could do no more as she heard Gator gloat about fitting the sensitivity switch, but she would be damned if she would spend them in the Tropical Zone of the New York Central Park Zoo. Instead she would drift away to the best times of her life, to Mano and their time in Hawaii, to the trails of Diamond Head, the surf of North Beach and the volcanic mountains of Maui. The restaurant on the active volcano. The seat above the clouds. The red dirt beyond the roads. The lamps flickering along Kapiolani and then the beach to end all beaches, foaming under the spreading red fire of dusk and hassle-free, the one true place in the world where she could cast off all the stress and the worries of living.

Hayden went there now, as the clock ticked down.

Drake waited inside the cop station, feeling entirely helpless as they hung on every tip, every sighting, every barest nugget in regards to Ramses, Hayden or the nuke. The truth was, New York was too big to scour in a matter of hours and the phones rang off the hook. Its people were too numerous and its visitors too plentiful. It might take ten minutes for the Army to reach the White House but, despite all its guards and security measures, how long would it take to search that relatively small place? Now, Drake thought, put that scenario in New York and where do you stand? It was a rare event when the security forces captured terrorists actually committing their act of atrocity. In the real world, the terrorists were chased and tracked down after the outrage.

Dahl arrived at last, looking disheveled and world-weary, the rest of the SPEAR team at his back. Kenzie inexplicably started looking around and asked where the evidence room was. Dahl just rolled his eyes at her and said, “Let her go or she’ll never be satisfied.” The rest of the team crowded around and heard what Drake had to say which, apart from worrying about Hayden, wasn’t an awful lot.

Moore simplified matters. “People are aware of a terrorist threat to the city. We can’t evacuate though we aren’t stopping those trying to leave. What will happen if the bomb does go off? I don’t know, but it’s not for us to think about recriminations right now. Our systems are shot, but other agencies and precincts have access to other feeds. We’re collating them as we speak. Most of the systems are up and running. The streets are quiet for New York, but still busy when compared to most towns. The roads too.”

“But nothing so far?” Smyth asked with surprise.

Moore sighed. “My friend, we are responding to a hundred of calls per minute. We’re dealing with every whacko, every prankster, and every plain scared good citizen in the city. Airspace is closed except to us. We were going to close down the Wi-Fi, the Internet, and even the phone lines, but understand we are just as likely to get a break from that avenue as we are from a street cop or an FBI agent or, more likely, a member of the public.”

“Undercovers?” Dahl asked.

“No cells remain that we know of. We can only assume that the cell now protecting Ramses was recruited nationally and by a local. We don’t believe our undercovers can help but they’re working every angle.”

“So where does that leave us?” Lauren asked. “We can’t find the cell, Ramses, Price or Hayden. We haven’t detected the nuke,” She studied every face, still at heart a civilian brought up with syndicated shows where the puzzle pieces all lined up for the final act.

“A tip is what usually does it,” Moore said. “Someone sees something and calls it in. Do y’know what they call a series of hot tips down here? Two tickets to paradise, after the old Eddie Money song.”

“So we’re waiting for a call?”

Drake led Lauren over to the balcony. The scene below was frantic, the few cops and agents remaining fighting off the shell shock, tracking amidst the rubble and the broken glass, answering calls and pecking away at keyboards, some with bloodied bandages wrapped around arms and heads and other with legs elevated, grimacing in pain.

“We should get down there,” Lauren said. “Help them.”

Drake nodded. “They’re fighting a losing battle and this isn’t even the hub anymore. Those guys just refused to leave. This means more to them than a trip to hospital. This is what good cops do, and the public rarely see it. Only the bad ones are dragged out by the press again and again, coloring the general opinion. I say we go help them too.”

They made their way to the elevator, and then Drake turned, surprised to see the entire team at his back. “What?” he said. “I have no money.”

Alicia grinned tiredly. Even Beau cracked a smile. The SPEAR team had been through so much themselves today, but still stood strong, ready for more. Drake saw bruises aplenty and other wounds that were well-hidden.

“Why don’t you guys reload? And pack extra ammo. When we do finally go in to end this, we’re going in hard.”

“I’ll handle all that,” Kinimaka said. “It’ll provide a distraction.”

“And I will help,” Yorgi said. “I find it hard to follow even Drake’s accent, so will be lost with the American ones.”

Dahl laughed as he joined Drake at the elevator. “My Russian friend, you have that completely back to front.”

Drake punched the Swede, adding to the bruise count, and took the elevator to the ground floor. The SPEAR team then jumped in where they could, answering fresh calls and jotting down information, talking to residents and asking questions, directing calls that had nothing to do with the emergency to other designated stations. And although they knew they were needed, and helping, it sat well with none of them simply because Hayden was still unaccounted for and Ramses remained at large. So far, he had bested them.

What other tricks did he have up his sleeve?

Drake diverted a call about a missing relative and fielded another regarding uneven paving. The switchboard remained active and Moore still held out for his tip, his ticket to paradise. But it soon became clear to Drake that time was ticking away faster than milk spilling from a split container. The one thing that kept him going was that he expected Ramses to call at least once. The man had showboated so far. Drake doubted he would press the button without at least attempting a bit more theatre.

Cops ran the station, but the team helped, seated at desks and passing messages. Dahl went off to make coffees. Drake joined him before the kettle, feeling intensely helpless and out of place as they waited for information.

“Talk about a first,” Drake said. “This ever happen to you before?”

“Nope. I see how Ramses managed to stay hidden all these years though. And I guess the device is giving no radiation signature, since they haven’t located it yet. The man who repackaged that bomb sure knew what he was doing. My guess—ex US military.”

“Well . . . why? There are many people capable of shielding radiation.”

“It’s the other things too. The local knowledge. The secret team he’s assembled. Mark my words, Drake old boy, they are ex-SEALS. Special Ops.”

Drake poured the water as Dahl spooned in the granules. “Make it strong. Actually, do you even know what this is? Did instant make it to the North Pole yet?”

Dahl sighed. “Instant coffee is the work of the Devil. And I have never been to the North Pole.”

Alicia slipped through the room’s open door. “What was that? Heard something about a pole and just knew it had my name on it.”

Drake couldn’t hide a smile. “How you doing, Alicia?”

“Feet hurt. Head hurts. Heart hurts. Other than that I’m just fine.”

“I meant—”

The call of X-Ambassadors drowned out his next words, thumping through the speaker of his cellphone. Still holding the kettle, he tucked the device under his chin.

“Hello?”

“Do you remember me?”

Drake slammed down the kettle so hard recently boiled water splashed out and across his hand. He never noticed.

“Where are you, motherfucker?”

“Now, now. Shouldn’t your first question be—‘where is the nuclear weapon’ or ‘how long until I explode’?” Deeply amused bellows blasted down the line.

“Ramses,” Drake said as he remembered to switch on the speakerphone. “Why not come straight to the point?”

“Oh, where is the fun in that? And you don’t tell me what to do. I am a prince, an owner of kingdoms. I have ruled for many years and will do so for many more. Long after you are crispy. Think on that.”

“So you have more hoops for us to jump through?”

“That wasn’t me. That was Julian Marsh. The man’s freaky, to say the least, so I tied him to your Agent Jaye.”

Drake winced, snapping a glance at Dahl. “She’s okay?”

“For now. Though looking a little bound and achy. She’s trying oh so hard to remain perfectly still.”

Foreboding crawled through Drake’s stomach. “And why’s that?”

“So she doesn’t upset the motion sensor of course.”

My God,
Drake thought. “You bastard. You tied her to the bomb?”

“She is the bomb, my friend.”

“Where is it?”

“We’ll get to that. But since you and your friends enjoy a good run, and since you’re already warmed up, I decided why not give you a chance? I hope you like riddles.”

“This is crazy.
You
are crazy, toying with so many lives. Riddles? Riddle me this, asshole. Who’s gonna piss on your body when I set it on fire?”

Ramses was silent for a moment, reflecting it seemed. “So the gloves are well and truly off. That is good. I do have places to go, meetings to attend, nations to sway. So listen—”

“I really hope you’re there waiting,” Drake interrupted, fishing quickly “When we get there.”

“Sadly, no. This is where we say goodbye. As you probably know I am using you to make my escape. So, as you people say—thanks for that.”

“Fu—”

“Yes, yes. Fuck me, my parents and all of my brothers. But it is you and this city that will end up fucked. And I who will continue. So time is now becoming an issue. Are you ready to beg for your chance, little Englishman?”

Drake found his professionalism, knowing this was their single option. “Tell me.”

“My antiseptic will cleanse the world of the infection in the West. From rainforest to rainforest, it is part of the floor under the canopy. That is all.”

Drake made a face. “That’s it?”

“Yes, and since everything you do in the so-called civilized world is measured by the minute, the hour, I will set the timer at sixty minutes. A good, famous round number for you.”

“How do we disarm it?” Drake hoped Marsh hadn’t mentioned the deactivation codes.

“Oh shit, you don’t know? Just remember this then—a nuclear bomb, particularly a suitcase nuke, is a precise, accurate and perfectly balanced mechanism. Everything is miniaturized and more accurate, as I am sure you appreciate. It will take . . . finesse.”

“Finesse?”

“Finesse. Look it up.”

With that Ramses killed the call, leaving the line dead. Drake bolted back to the office and shouted for the entire station to stop. His words, his tone of voice, sent heads and eyes and bodies swiveling towards him. Phones were replaced in cradles, calls ignored and conversations stopped.

Moore gauged Drakes’ face, then said, “Turn off the phones.”

“I have it,” Drake shouted. “But we have to make some sense . . .” He reeled off the riddle word for word. “Be quick,” he said. “Ramses gave us sixty minutes.”

Moore leaned over the unsteady balcony, joined by Kinimaka and Yorgi. Everyone else faced him. As his words began to sink in people started to yell.

“Well, the antiseptic is the bomb. That’s obvious.”

“And he intends to detonate it,” someone whispered. “This is no bluff.”

“Rainforest to rainforest?” Mai said. “I do not understand.”

Drake wound it around his head. “It’s a message to us,” he said. “All this began in the Amazon rainforest. We first saw him at the bazaar. But I don’t see how it works for New York.”

“And the rest?” Smyth said. “Part of the floor under the canopy? I don’t—”

“It’s another rainforest reference,” Moore shouted down. “Isn’t the canopy what they call the unbroken tree cover? The floor is undergrowth.”

Drake was already there. “It is. But if you accept that then he’s telling us that the bomb is hidden inside a rainforest. In New York,” He grimaced. “Doesn’t make sense.”

Silence fell over the station, the kind of silence that can petrify a person to helplessness or electrify them to brilliance.

Drake had never been more aware of the passing time, each second a doom-filled toll of the Judgment Day bell.

“But New York does have a rainforest,” Moore finally said. “At the Central Park Zoo. It’s small, called the Tropical Zone, but it’s a mini version of the real thing.”

“Under the canopy?” Dahl pushed.

“Yeah, there’re trees in there.”

Drake hesitated one more second, painfully aware that even that might cost them many lives. “Anything else? Any other suggestions?”

Only silence and blank looks greeted his question.

“Then we’re all in,” he said. “No compromise. No larking about. Time to take this mythical motherfucker down. Just like we did the last one.”

Kinimaka and Yorgi sprinted for the stairs.

Drake led the entire team into the fear-filled streets of New York.