Circle of Death, page 20
“No,” she says firmly. “I don’t need him. I’m done with him.” She grabs my arm and glares at me. “If I see one of your sensor needles in the black, I’m coming up there!” she says. “You won’t be able to stop me.”
“We’ll be fine,” I tell her.
I’m glad she can’t read minds. Because if she could, she’d know that I’m not at all sure we’ll be fine. I’m not really sure of anything. I lean in for a hug, but Maddy twists away. I know she’s angry. But I also know it’s for the best. I watch as she walks back into the house and slams the door. Jericho slides into the driver’s seat.
“She’s a tough girl, boss,” he says. Big compliment, coming from him.
“I know. That’s why I need her here.”
I hop into the front passenger seat and give Jericho a nod. “Let’s go.”
As we pull out of the driveway, I look back to see Jessica, Maddy, and Margo looking out from an upstairs window. They’ve each protected me in more ways than they know. Now it’s the Shadow’s turn to protect them.
Along with the rest of the whole damn world.
CHAPTER 94
IT’S ALMOST 10:00 p.m. We’ve been driving for nearly an hour. Burbank is staring into a device on his lap, lit by the glow from the dashboard.
“Turn here!” he shouts, jerking his thumb to the west.
We all rock to one side as Jericho makes the hard left off the main road. Now we’re heading down a rutted dirt lane directly toward the Hudson. Burbank is homing in on Trapper and Hawkeye. Closer and closer.
Jericho skids to a stop in a scrubby shorefront clearing. Water is lapping on the small, rocky beach. By the light of the moon, I can see an old concrete boat ramp and a sagging wooden dock sticking out about thirty yards into the river, with a few planks missing. At the end of the dock, Tapper and Hawkeye are waving at us, silhouetted against the water. They’re standing next to some kind of low-slung boat. I hop out of the Humvee with Burbank and Jericho. We grab our gear and head down the dock.
“Welcome aboard, maties!” says Tapper as we get close. He waves his hand toward the boat. Now I can see what it is—some kind of speedboat, with a long, sliver-shaped front end and a small cockpit with a wraparound bench in back.
“Twin two-fifties,” says Hawkeye. I don’t know much about twenty-first-century watercraft, but I assume he’s talking about the engines.
“Where did this thing come from?” I ask.
“I promise the owner won’t miss it until morning,” says Tapper. Good enough for me. When it comes to Tapper and Hawkeye’s methods, sometimes it’s better not to ask too many questions. Just trust them to get the job done. Same as I did with their ancestors.
We stash our bags in the small cockpit and climb in. I can tell that Burbank is not happy with the tight fit. We’re practically on top of one another on the narrow bench.
Tapper takes his seat behind the controls. Hawkeye unties the last line from the dock and steps in as Tapper fires up the engines. I feel the vibration from my toes to my head.
“Where to?” I ask.
“Bayani’s vehicle is about ten miles upriver,” says Hawkeye. “Water approach is better.” That’s the last thing I hear. Tapper shoves the throttle forward and the roar of the engines shuts out everything else.
As we speed up the Hudson, I feel the wind whipping my hair back, along with the skin on my cheeks. The river is choppy. With each hard bounce, cold spray flies up over the bow. Within a minute or two, we’re all pretty much soaked. Burbank is crouching in the middle of the cockpit with his arms wrapped around his bag of electronic gear. He looks seasick. Probably sorry he came.
After a short ride up the dark river, Tapper cuts the engines and lets the boat drift forward. Hawkeye points to the cliff on the east shore. Set back from the edge, about a hundred feet up, is a huge mansion. Bigger than mine. It’s glowing from inside.
“That’s the place,” says Hawkeye.
Burbank stares at the cliff rising out of the dark water. “How the hell are we supposed to get up there?”
Hawkeye pulls a canvas bag from under the console and unzips it. I can see ropes and grappling tools inside. “How else?” he says. “We climb.”
Burbank looks at the bag, then at Hawkeye. “Maybe you,” he says. “Definitely not me.”
He’s right. Burbank is in no condition to take on a nearly vertical rock face. Once again, time to split forces. “Fine,” I tell him. “You stay in the boat with your bag of tricks. We’ll come for you if we need you. Just monitor us, okay?”
Tapper lets the boat drift toward the cliff and then pulls out a massive paddle. He hands it to Jericho. “Okay, strongman,” he says, “get us as close as you can to those rocks.”
“Without sinking the ship,” adds Hawkeye.
Jericho grabs the paddle and starts stroking through the water on the port side. I can see his muscles bulging under his shirt. Slowly, with a little help from the current, he brings us close enough for Hawkeye to jump onto a boulder at the bottom of the cliff. Tapper eases the boat anchor into the dark water. Then he and Jericho hop off.
From here, the cliff seems to be straight up. We’re totally out of sight from above—at least for now.
“Coming, boss?” asks Tapper in a low voice.
“You three go ahead,” I tell him. “I want to get a look from up top.”
Hawkeye cocks his head. “Up top?”
I shape-shift right in front of them. Right there on the boat.
“Holy shit!” is Tapper’s reaction. I’m sure he’s speaking for everybody. Ten seconds later, I’m riding the updraft alongside the cliff. My first time in this particular form. But it was the best possible choice.
Great-horned owls have fantastic night vision.
CHAPTER 95
FROM UP HERE, I can see the layout of the whole property. The house is set back in a grove of evergreens. On the river side, there’s a sloping lawn with thick hedges on two sides. A couple of limos and a few security vehicles are lined up around a circular driveway on the street side of the mansion. Strange. I expected more. Most of the guards are out front. Only a few are posted on the side facing the river, spread out on the far corners of the lawn.
Our black-hulled boat blends in with the water below, but I can clearly make out the top of Burbank’s balding head in the back. I do a few slow circles while Jericho, Tapper, and Hawkeye make their way up the rocks. They’re finding plenty of footholds. With their skills, they hardly even need the equipment. For them, it’s pretty much a free climb.
I swoop lower as all three of them reach the lip of the cliff and start moving toward the house, using the hedges for cover. One by one, Jericho grabs the sentries and sprays them with knockout gas, then rolls them into the underbrush. Now I can see the team crouching against the stone foundation of the house. They’re packed tight together, checking their weapons. Waiting for me.
Suddenly, I hear a high-pitched whir, like a very loud wasp. I feel an updraft under my wings. My heart rate explodes as I sense another predator. I turn my head.
Drone!
No time for human thought. Avian instinct takes over. I tuck in my wings and go into a dive, shooting down toward the river. I hear the whir of blades behind me. I bank right. My wingtip brushes the surface of the water. The drone stays tight behind me. I flap my wings hard to generate thrust. I hit a small thermal and ride it up. I look inland.
Maybe I can lose the drone in the trees. But as I start to head toward shore, it rises up in front of me, lights blinking. I make a move to get past, but the rotors almost clip my right wing.
I can’t evade this thing.
I have to kill it.
I bank out over the water again, looking for room to maneuver. I glide, then dive. The drone follows, matching my every move. I can feel it trying to lock on to me. I can see dart-sized missiles bristling below the rotors. Probably programmed to seek a heat center. I need to keep moving! A stall means death.
I make another dive, heading straight for the water. The drone is as nimble as I am. Maybe even better. As I pull out of my dive, I bank hard to the right and gain altitude again until we’re a hundred feet up. Me and the damned machine. I can see the lights from the mansion off to my left. I turn in a tight circle. The drone follows. For a second, its underside is tipped toward me.
Its belly.
I adjust my angle and head straight for it. I hit the underside hard with both talons. Hard enough to break an animal’s spine. I feel a panel shake loose. The rotor blades tip toward me, barely missing my neck. The drone goes into a wobbly circle, trying to right itself. I attack again, heading straight for the loose panel. This time, my right talon hooks a small wire bundle. I rip downward and feel something give. The drone starts spiraling down. But I’m losing lift! I’m heading down, too.
I can see the water coming up fast. I tuck in right, almost into a ball. At the last second, I flare my wings to catch as much air as possible. I soar up again. The drone plunges in right below me, rotors churning the surface into froth. Then it flips and sinks.
Like a great dying bird.
CHAPTER 96
I LAND IN a tall pine tree near the back of the house, gripping a thick branch for dear life. My heart rate must be north of three hundred. I give myself a few seconds to settle. Then I glide to the ground and rematerialize.
Tapper, Hawkeye, and Jericho look over when they see me sneaking out of the trees. They’ve been so focused on the target, I doubt they even saw the fight. But I can tell that they’re glad to see me human again.
Jericho points toward the great room above us. It projects out toward the lawn in a large semicircle, with floor-to-ceiling windows. But the curtains inside are drawn shut.
All we can pick up are vague silhouettes, and the low murmur of voices. Dammit! This is where Burbank’s listening devices would have helped. Too late. No time to go back for him now.
I motion for the others to stay put. For a second, I feel like I’m about to pass out. I realize that it’s too soon after my shape-shift to engage another power. My body needs time to adjust. But there is no time. I shake it off, take a deep breath—and turn invisible.
I’m still shaky as I climb up the steps to the side of the porch. I hold on to the railing to steady myself. I see a guard standing in front of the side door. A stair creaks under my weight. The guard turns and looks in my direction. I bend down and pick up a pebble. I throw it hard against the wall at the far end of the porch. Oldest trick in the book. I’ve been using it for ten thousand years. The guard whips around and starts moving toward the sound. I slip through the door he’s supposed to be guarding.
The interior of the house is high-end, with custom moldings and expensive hardwood floors. I pass the entrance to the kitchen—marble counters and fancy appliances. Ahead of me, I can see the arched entry to the great room. The glow reflects out into the hallway. There’s only one person talking now. A woman.
A shiver shoots through me. I know that voice.
It’s her.
The Destroyer of Worlds.
“You’re weak. Incompetent!” she’s saying. “You don’t deserve to lead!”
I come around a thick column at the entryway, and there she is—hair pulled back from her face, wearing a gold-embroidered floor-length robe. Like some kind of ancient royalty. She has her back to a giant video monitor. Under the light from ceiling fixtures, she actually glows.
I expected a roomful of people for a weapons auction this important—a whole conclave of miscreants. But I only see an audience of two, sitting in high-backed chairs facing the screen. I work my way around to the side of the room, treading softly. As soon as the profiles of the two visitors come into view, I freeze.
Toor Bayani, I expected.
But not the man sitting next to him.
It’s Lucian Diaz, the president of the Americas.
CHAPTER 97
THE DESTROYER IS talking to the two most powerful men in the world like they were schoolchildren. And they’re both just sitting there and taking it.
“You ineffectual posers! I played you against each other and you both lost. Your emissaries bid top price for my technology, but neither of you will get it.”
“Wait,” says Diaz. “There must be some other deal we can make!” He sounds like he’s trying to preserve some scrap of authority and dignity. But it’s not working.
“The deal is done,” says the Destroyer. “And the deal is this: now you both work for me.”
Bayani takes a stab at English, heavily accented, but clear. “You cannot threaten me! I control an army of millions!”
“So you do, Minister Bayani,” says the Destroyer. “Shall we take a look?”
She turns to the screen behind her. It lights up with a drone’s-eye view of a huge Chinasian parade field. Soldiers are lined up in formation for some kind of ceremony or exercise. They’re arranged in a dozen battalions of what looks like about a thousand soldiers each. An invasion-sized force.
“I’m sure you recognize the target, Mr. Minister. I believe it’s one of your largest bases.”
The drone dips lower until it’s gliding over the formation at an altitude of about thirty feet. There is no sound accompanying the video. Suddenly, the soldiers start to collapse like rag dolls. Standing at attention one second, dead on the ground the next.
Bayani lets out a guttural growl and jumps up from his seat. Beside him, Diaz squirms.
“Sit down,” says the Destroyer. “There’s more.”
The screen goes black for a second and then lights up again. This time the view shows the Wailing Wall in Jerusalem. Early morning there. But already a mass of pilgrims and visitors is crowding against the ancient structure, sixty feet tall and almost a third of a mile long. Again, the drone swoops low. Again, the bodies drop. Dead in an instant. In seconds, the holy plaza is a carpet of death. Innocent men, women, children.
By now, Bayani and Diaz are both pitched forward in their chairs, staring at the screen. Speechless and numb.
“It’s as simple as that,” says the Destroyer. “On my command, armies, workers, entire populations, gone. What do you think? Maybe it’s better to start with a clean slate. Build the whole world up again from scratch. The way it should be. Just the three of us.”
I feel sick to my stomach, but my rage is bursting, too. I’ve felt it a thousand times. Whenever I’m in the presence of total evil.
“And now,” says the Destroyer, “something a little closer to home.”
She turns and looks directly at me. As if I’m not invisible at all.
“So rude, Lamont,” she says. “Don’t you know it’s impolite to eavesdrop?”
CHAPTER 98
“ENOUGH!” I SHOUT. I rematerialize at the side of the room. Diaz and Bayani both leap out of their chairs.
“Cranston!” Diaz shouts. Like a man grabbing at his last chance.
The Destroyer glares at me. “I knew you’d get here somehow, Lamont. Your friends are superior trackers. Or, were. Soon to be past tense, I’m afraid.”
The screen shifts to a drone’s eye view of the river. Night vision gives the scene a greenish glow, but the details are clear. The speed boat is now floating in the middle of the current. A small rubber Zodiac boat approaches. Inside are Tapper, Hawkeye, and Jericho, with guns to their heads! Their weapons are gone, their shirts ripped, their faces bruised. Guards force them onto the speedboat, crowding them in next to Burbank. The Zodiac speeds off.
“A more intimate demonstration,” says the Destroyer. “But maybe more powerful. As you can see, I gathered your associates together one last time. More poetic that way, don’t you think? Fight together, die together.”
The drone starts to swoop toward the boat. I can see the faces of my team, looking up.
On the screen, the drone is dropping lower and lower. I’m trying to muster my strength, concentrate my powers. I can feel the blood pounding in my ears. I see the faces of my friends. But I can’t do anything! In the tiny cockpit, Jericho, Hawkeye, and Tapper are standing strong, like soldiers. At the last second, Burbank drops to his knees, terrified.
I thrust my arm forward. A small fireball shoots across the room. But not fast enough. The Destroyer dodges it. The blast hits the monitor just as the drone makes its final pass. The screen explodes into a thousand pieces.
“Look what you’ve done!” the Destroyer shouts. “You’ve spoiled the show! Now they’re dead, but you didn’t get to watch them die! Have you no sense of theater?”
She waves her arms in a fury. Suddenly the room is engulfed in a furious whirlwind. Furniture spins. Light fixtures shatter. Floorboards splinter. A shaft of electricity circles the room. Bayani and Diaz drop to the floor. Diaz stretches his arm toward me. “Stop this!” he yells. The bolt passes through him, then Bayani, incinerating them both in an instant.
The force of the blast rocks me back against the wall. In the center of the carnage, I can see the Destroyer standing poised and calm. Her dark eyes are shining, looking straight at me. I try to stand, but the force of the wind pins me against the wall. I can’t move. I can’t shout. All I can think about is my friends. Gone! My fault!
Suddenly, the Destroyer’s shape begins to change. The glow around her intensifies. For a second, it seems like she’s dissolving. No! Shape-shifting! The light from her body is blinding, whiting out everything in the room.
A second later, the wind dies down and my vision clears. I can’t believe what I’m seeing. The woman in gold is gone—transformed completely.
“Did you miss me, Lamont?”
Dear God! It’s Shiwan Khan!
CHAPTER 99
THE ROOM IS filled with swirling smoke and the smell of burned flesh. Out on the river, my friends are dead. And now I’m facing my worst enemy. My worst nightmare.
Again!
“I’m glad you’re here, Lamont,” Khan says. “You and my other witnesses.”
