Page 31
CHAPTER 31
NICK
Blackness falls.
The fiery heat singes skin and burns eyes.
The floor lights flicker and die.
Fuck no .
Scarlet screams. Terrified.
I slam into her back.
She stumbles.
I hold her to me, still. Gathering my wits.
It’s so dark I can’t see my hand in front of my face.
The ground trembles with a muted boom.
“What’s happening?” Scarlet asks.
She’s winded. I hear it in her gasp and feel it in the expansion of her rib cage.
I fumble with my mobile. The screen light allows me to see my hand, Scarlet’s shape, and perspiration along her temple.
For security reasons, the mobile has no apps. But surely there’s a light. Please let there be a light.
I find it. The bright white beam lights the floor and the sides of the tunnel.
“Drop a bag.”
“I can carry it. Let’s go.”
“I’ll get it.”
“No, I can?—”
She tugs on a shoulder strap.
“Scarlet, it’s not the weight. It’s bulky. You can carry the weight, there’s no doubt, but you move faster without the bulk.”
Stubborn, she grips the strap of my backpack. I grab the handles of the tote she’s holding, ignoring her efforts.
“Hold the mobile. Light the way.”
With both my hands full of tote straps, I can’t very well hold a mobile. She grabs the device and holds it in front. At first, her steps follow a quick pace. I match her, sticking close.
A minute passes, and she shifts into a steady jog.
“Will the fire come through the tunnel?”
“Shouldn’t. There’s nothing for it to catch. I’m more worried about it stealing our oxygen.”
We’re getting further away from what I presume is the garage and what must have been a massive explosion.
Is this Nooyi? Was his visit to scope the place out and figure out if my safe house was located somewhere other than the main house? Or did they bomb every building on the property?
The heat increases.
My eyes are watering. The smoke must be getting thick.
A cloudy haze wafts through the cylindrical white light.
“How much further?”
I don’t have the answer. I should’ve marked the tunnel with distance measurements.
“If you need to slow?—”
“One foot in front of the other,” she says.
Is that what she’s been saying to herself for this last stretch?
My lungs are on fire, as is my throat. Sweat drenches my shirt.
Thank god I didn’t install a gas line in the tunnel.
“What’s that?” Scarlet asks.
I slow, scanning past her. Ready to drop the bags and grab a gun.
The gaping black morphs into a shape. A door.
Thank the gods. We made it.
Scarlet reaches for the latch.
“No!”
She bends over, sucking in air through an open mouth.
The bright white light blinds me, and I hold a hand out, using the tote to block the glare.
“What’s wrong?”
The light flits away from my face, and I lower the bag.
“It’s too hot in here. The metal may burn your hand.”
I drop the bags, unzip one, and locate a pair of leather gloves. They're too small, and I tug at them.
Scarlet snatches them from me and hands me the mobile. The gloves are loose on her, but she can get them on all her fingers.
I pull out my handgun and stand by the door, holding the light so she can unlock the latch. The electricity must be completely gone, as the exit door is on manual overdrive, which is the emergency backup.
She pushes the door open, and a gust of cold, fresh air blows in.
“Wait.”
I step past her, gun raised, and scan the surroundings.
The desolate dirt road, lit only by the moon, evokes calm. A night owl screeches. The shadows of the forests blend into an eerie haze.
Down the road, a rusted vehicle sits on the side of the road. Leaves scatter over the hood, and there’s one broken limb over the roof, giving it the look of an abandoned vehicle. The dilapidated SUV is all part of the plan hatched years ago. The thought was that if someone wandered by the road, they wouldn’t give the clunker a second thought.
I kick the door open wider, and Scarlet grabs the totes, one in each hand. I close the door behind us, careful to kick some leaves back over the disturbed earth in front of the door.
Satisfied it’s not immediately noticeable that the door of the long-forgotten shack has been opened, I catch up with Scarlet, lifting one bag from her hand.
A single distant siren pierces the night air.
The explosions were massive. This time, we caught the attention of the authorities.
Scarlet helps me load the back with our bags. She gets into the front passenger seat, but I bend on my knees, checking the undercarriage. It’s dark, and the mobile light isn’t adequate.
“Get out,” I tell her.
“Is something wrong?”
“Being safe, love. Step back over by that tree. The big oak.”
I wait until she does as I say, then clamber in and crank the engine.
I’ve never wished for a remote to start a vehicle more than this moment. All my daily vehicles start remotely. Typical of electrics. But this gem is of the archaic combustion variety.
The car cranks. I wait a beat.
Press on the accelerator. The engine guns, but with my foot on the brake, the wheels spin.
The passenger door opens.
“Are you kidding me?” she shouts. “You thought it would explode, so you had me sit outside?”
“You can get in now.”
“What in the ever-loving hell? You’re keen to have me witness your death?”
Her door slams shut, and I check the rearview, then click the headlights on.
The road up ahead is quiet.
I roll down the window with a crank.
“Don’t do that,” she says.
“Do what? Plan a getaway in a vintage vehicle because we’re on the same page. I’m bloody well regretting this bit of the plan.”
“Assume your life is worth more than mine.”
What is she going on about?
“Get my backpack,” I say, focusing on matters of import. “Pull out the mobile. The flip phone.”
She bends over the seat, arse in the air, and seconds later, she’s got it.
“Buckle up,” I tell her, clocking the rear.
It’s completely dark behind us.
Up ahead, the dirt road meets a paved one. That’s where we turn.
The headlights cast an eerie glow over the narrow road, with scraggly limbs haunting the space like skeletons cast about on Hallow’s Eve.
I repeat a number to Scarlet.
“Should I message them?”
“Call,” I tell her. “That phone doesn’t message.”
“You value artifacts more than I realized.”
“Cute,” I snap.
“It’s ringing. What do I say?”
“Give it here.”
I hold the mobile to my ear.
Up ahead, red and blue lights blitz the night sky, and a chorus of distant sirens override the crickets.
“Charlie’s Pub,” a male voice answers.
“I might have the wrong number,” I say. “I’m looking for an old mate, goes by Nomad.”
“Nick. Are you safe?”
“In transit.”
“Injured?”
“No.”
“Alone?”
“The witness is with me.”
I side-eye Scarlet. I give her a wink, although, in the darkness, I’m not sure she sees.
I reach the fork in the road and slow. Three emergency vehicles whiz by, lights on.
I turn in the opposite direction on the paved road.
“I’m working on getting a satellite view of your property, but reports coming in are of multiple explosions.”
“Haven’t seen it myself. We were underground. Any reports on what caused the explosions?”
“Nothing’s coming over the wire.”
Fuck . Ash and my men. I hope the bombs didn’t take out the guardhouse.
In the rearview, two pinprick white lights appear.
“Where are you headed?” Nomad asks.
“Away. Gonna let things calm down.”
“Copy that.”
The two pinprick lights grow into circles.
“Any reports of drones in the area?”
“It’s the running theory.”
The circles become disks.
“I think I’ve got company.”
“A drone?”
“A charging vehicle.”
Flashing lights and sirens appear up ahead.
The car behind slows.
One, two, three, four emergency vehicles speed by.
“An extraction team is on the ready,” Nomad says.
“Scarlet, open the back again. Find my regular mobile. It’s an iPhone. The one from the tunnel. Check that it’s on.”
“Where are you?”
“Can you trace my iPhone?”
“Your common business line?”
“That’s the one.”
“Yes.”
The lights behind me blur the entire rearview and side views.
“Do it,” I say.
“Do you trust the authorities? I can get them to you in minutes.”
“No.”
A shot rings through the air.
“Are you being shot at?”
“Appears so.”
Scarlet’s arse shoots up.
“Get down!”
Her feet pass my head as she hits the back.
“Keep the line open,” Nomad says.
The back glass of the vehicle shatters.
I floor the clunker, and the engine roars.
A burst of air to my left snatches my attention.
Scarlet hangs out the window.
Bloody hell.
Shots ring out.
Bam. Bam. Bam.
The lights behind us swerve to the woods.
Scarlet pulls herself back in.
Bloody hell! “You fucking do that again and I will shoot you myself!”
She sits by the back passenger door, cranking the window up.
“Did you see that? I got the wheels. Do you know what a hard shot that is?” She sounds bloody fucking happy.
“I’ll show you a hard shot. What the hell were you thinking?”
“Mate?”
“Yes.” I glimpse the rearview. No cars. I turn right onto a major thoroughfare.
“From here on out, you’re Falcon. Understood?” Nomad’s question lessens my desire to throttle my partner.
“A bird?” I grumble. Yes, he mentioned the bloody code name earlier, but it’s not my favorite.
Scarlet clambers over the seat, bopping me in the head with her foot.
“Sorry,” she mouths.
“And I’ve got Angel with me,” I say.
“Hold for extraction instructions,” he says.
“Are we being routed to a location of your choosing?”
“There’s a team waiting to consult with you.”
“Consult. Not sure about that one, mate.”
“You’ve got a swarm of assassins hunting you and a two hundred and fifty-million-dollar bounty posted on your head. Are you really bloody taking the piss?”
“Not at all, wayward Nomad. Send those instructions on to Angel.”
“She on the line?”
Scarlet’s eyes are pitch-black, but with better lighting, I’d be under a glower warning.
“She’s watching over us all.” I wink.
She snatches the mobile, unamused.
“Angel here.”
Table of Contents
- Page 1
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- Page 25
- Page 26
- Page 27
- Page 28
- Page 29
- Page 30
- Page 31 (Reading here)
- Page 32
- Page 33
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- Page 35
- Page 36
- Page 37
- Page 38
- Page 39
- Page 40
- Page 41