The Phoenix Variant: The Fifth Column 3 Read online

  He went straight through.

  The wave hit the Marauder with a thud. It was louder than Jay expected and for a moment he thought the armored vehicle would be ripped apart. The windows were filled with fierce white. He couldn’t see anything else, but he held on as the Marauder bucked and shuddered through the collision.

  The Marauder lifted off the road and tumbled—only to land violently on the road again. Jay gripped his seat and the handrail above, elbows and knees bent. He braced himself. The white cleared from the water. It became a dark, almost impenetrable color. He could hear—and feel—the water surging over them, around them.

  Damien’s eyes were wide. He looked unnerved. Jay relaxed his hands and knocked on the glass.

  ‘Hey,’ he said. ‘You OK?’

  Damien took a moment to snap out of it. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘It’s fine, the water will drop,’ Jay said. ‘OK?’

  Damien nodded, not convinced.

  The Marauder was back on the road, at a standstill.

  Around them, the water’s surface lapped past the Marauder, past the side windows. The wave was gone and the water dropped below the windows, below Jay, below his legs, and found its level somewhere around ankle-height.

  ‘That might make it difficult for them,’ Jay said.

  Damien was back to normal now. He tried to start the vehicle again. It didn’t sound promising.

  ‘Engine block’s flooded,’ Damien said.

  Damien’s phone started vibrating. He put it on speaker. Jay could hear Sophia’s voice.

  ‘Do you have the meteorite?’ Sophia asked.

  ‘We’re doing great, thanks,’ Jay called out through the partition glass. ‘We have your rock too, by the way.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ Sophia said. ‘Denton only needs one more rock and the masked Blue Berets have it. I’ll need your help to—’

  ‘We’re having enough trouble keeping their hands off this one!’ Jay said through the glass partition.

  There was a pause.

  ‘Who?’ Sophia said. ‘Who is trying to track you?’

  ‘Fuck me,’ Jay said, ‘Who isn’t? The masked dudes, the operatives—’

  ‘That doesn’t make any sense,’ Sophia said. ‘How long since the operatives were chasing you?’

  ‘They almost got us near Grand Central,’ Jay said. ‘You’re tracking them, take a look for yourself,’ Jay said.

  There was a short pause.

  ‘Every operative on the island is moving in your direction,’ Sophia said. ‘They’re not too close yet but that doesn’t make any—shit.’

  ‘You there?’ Damien said.

  ‘Denton’s misdirecting us,’ Sophia said. ‘He doesn’t want the meteorite from Peru at all. He wants the meteorite from the museum. The one you have. Aviary, are you there?’

  Aviary’s voice came through the channel. ‘Yeah, we’re here.’

  ‘Good. Damien, Jay, where are you now?’ Sophia said.

  ‘East Village,’ Damien said. ‘But we have a problem.’

  ‘No, we have multiple goddamn problems,’ Sophia said. She didn’t sound happy. ‘What’s this one?’

  ‘Jay’s hurt,’ Damien said.

  ‘How badly?’ Nasira called out, her voice tinny as she spoke from somewhere near Aviary.

  ‘Took a round through the stomach,’ Damien said. ‘Look, it’s OK. He’s healing but he can’t really—’

  ‘Move,’ Sophia said. ‘I understand.’

  ‘Hey guys, I need you to hit the location button on your screen,’ Aviary said. ‘Right now.’

  Jay peered over and saw that Damien was on a conference call with two people—one was Sophia and the other he figured was Aviary. They were labeled with the first letters of their names and they lit up whenever they spoke.

  Jay could see there were six buttons on Damien’s screen: mute, keypad, speaker—that button was already highlighted—add call, voice activated and location. Damien hit the location button.

  ‘What now?’ Damien said.

  ‘Swipe from the top down,’ Aviary said.

  Damien swiped down, pulling a new window over the top. It was a map with markers for both Aviary and Sophia. Jay could see Aviary was around Grand Central while Sophia was further west, in the theatre district. He could see their own location much further south, near the east coast of Manhattan.

  Below that, Jay noticed a string of characters.

  18TWL8584008819

  It was Damien’s MGRS—Military Grid Reference System. The first two digits were the grid-zone designation, the rest narrowed the precision level to one meter.

  Damien started rummaging around in the Marauder’s glove box. He grasped a hands-free with earphones and mike that plugged into the phone.

  Aviary hadn’t given Jay or Damien any wireless earpieces, so a hands-free would have to do. Jay considered checking the rear cabin for a hands-free of his own but couldn’t be bothered. He knew he wasn’t going to be running around for a while.

  Damien slipped the wire under his shirt, pulling his bow-tie off. He left the mike on a bit of slack around the collar so he could talk into it.

  ‘Damien, what’s your condition?’ Sophia said.

  ‘I’m fine,’ Damien said.

  ‘Good, because right now you’re the only person who can stop Denton from—’

  ‘Collecting all the Pokémon,’ Aviary said.

  ‘What’s that?’ Jay said.

  ‘A joke lost on an entire generation of operatives,’ Aviary said. ‘As you were.’

  ‘Aviary,’ Sophia said. ‘I need a favor.’

  ‘You got it,’ Aviary said quickly.

  ‘Can you find the nearest train for Damien?’ Sophia said. ‘Plot a route between us. I need an RV somewhere in between. A tunnel, a station, whatever. We need to do a handover and we need to do it quickly.’

  ‘On it,’ Aviary said.

  Jay could hear the rhythmic drum of keys and mouse clicks as Aviary did her computer thing. The only other sound was the rain and wind battering the Marauder’s armor.

  ‘You’ll have to leave Jay somewhere,’ Sophia said.

  Jay shrugged at Damien. ‘I’d just slow you down anyway.’

  Damien looked at him, those big eyebrows narrowed.

  ‘You’re coming with me,’ Damien said.

  Jay shook his head, but Sophia said the words for him.

  ‘He can’t,’ Sophia said. ‘He won’t make it.’

  ‘You have to go. And you have to go now.’

  ‘Damien,’ Aviary said from the phone’s speaker. ‘I found a train at a platform. Second Avenue, a few blocks south of you.’

  ‘I have a better option,’ Damien said. ‘Williamsburg Bridge. It’s less than a mile from here. If I make it across—’

  ‘No,’ Sophia said.

  ‘I can do it,’ Damien said.

  ‘They’ll have it locked down,’ Sophia said. ‘There’s no question.’

  Jay watched him plug the hands-free in, lock the phone and shove it into his pocket.

  ‘Second Avenue, got it,’ Damien said. ‘Jay, what about you?’

  ‘The sooner you get the fuck away from me the better my chances.’ Jay eyed off the .50 cal platform above him. ‘And that doesn’t hurt either.’

  Damien shook his head. ‘They’ll look here first, the least I can do is get you off the street.’

  Damien was already eyeing off the six-story building on their right. He pointed to an apartment entrance squeezed between a Thai and Mediterranean restaurant. The Thai restaurant’s roller door was closed, scrawled with graffiti, while the Mediterranean place was all glass, half submerged in dirty water.

  Jay rolled his eyes. ‘Fine, hurry up then.’

  Damien jumped from the driver’s cabin, carbine in both hands, and waded through the leftover water and battering wind. Jay landed in the murky water with his leather shoes. His stomach was on fire once again. If there was any fresh bleeding around his stomach Damien ha
dn’t noticed it yet. Instead, Damien cut a swift path through the water, toward a little red apartment entrance on the other side of the road.

  Jay looked up. Deep gray tendrils curled the sky. The rain pressed his shirt to his skin and the wind made him falter with each step. He covered his face with one hand to keep debris from his eyes and waded after Damien, dodging a cluster of trash bags that floated past.

  ‘I’m guessing the carbine doesn’t work,’ Jay called out to Damien.

  Damien slammed the butt stock into the glass door, shattering it. ‘Works for me,’ he said.

  Jay ducked under the metal handlebar. His body seized up, pain flaring along his leg and through his stomach. He clenched his teeth and tried to remain upright.

  ‘Do you have picks?’ Damien said.

  ‘Yeah,’ Jay said. ‘The only thing I am carrying in this monkey suit.’

  Damien was also still wearing his complete tuxedo, missing only his bow-tie. He handed Jay the carbine. Jay wasn’t sure what he could use it for except maybe to bluff someone. The better option was finding and raiding a police station for a shotgun or even a working carbine. At least they wouldn’t be fingerprint protected and he could actually shoot something for once.

  Damien was about to leave. He checked his phone, then hesitated. Before Jay could walk up the stairs Damien reached through the door and gripped his arm. But he didn’t say anything. He knew he had to leave.

  ‘Go,’ Jay said.

  Chapter 36

  Damien shed his tuxedo jacket. He pulled the webbing straps on the ruck, tightening them around his shoulders. According to Aviary, two operatives were as of this moment two blocks north of him and another two further away. The closer pair moved independently of each other.

  Damien didn’t know where the masked Blue Berets might be, but he figured they’d be in a vehicle. Which meant he’d hear them coming sooner. It also meant they’d catch him sooner. Especially with someone riding a .50 cal.

  Aviary had sent him a map of the subway stations. She’d set the tracks. All he had to do was remember which stations to pass before stopping. His destination would be Union Square. Where Sophia would meet him.

  He kept his phone in his pocket, a single earbud in his ear so he could still hear Aviary. Sophia was moving to her own subway station so she’d drop out of the call until they reunited.

  He stepped onto the sidewalk. The hurricane had blotted out the sky. The water was barely ankle level here, only deeper in the gutters. The rain and wind channeled through the streets, slowing him down. With the wind roaring in his ears the whole time, he’d never hear an operative coming. He wasn’t happy about that.

  The thought was enough to spur him into a run, south. He reached the first corner and hesitated when he saw a green sign for Williamsburg Bridge with a picture of a bicycle. It pointed farther south. The subway station he was supposed to go to was southeast.

  He considered the bridge for a moment. If there were a way to slip past the National Guard or Blue Berets or whoever might be posted there, he’d improve his odds of survival dramatically. Trapped in New York City, he was a rogue operative in a barrel.

  An overhead traffic light groaned against the wind, then the traffic light itself tore from its frame and dropped to the road with a punctual splash.

  Subway it is, he thought.

  He took a right past Benny’s Burgers, splashing through the deeper water in the street and reaching the sidewalk on the other side. He started running west.

  Aviary had assured him she’d designed the conference calls to work regardless of who dropped out when. With her watching and talking into his ear, he hoped he’d stand more of a chance.

  Damien noticed public housing on the left. The parking lot was fenced off with high chain-link fences. He slowed and took a wide turn. He ran up the chain link, grasped the metal pole at the top and levered himself over, clinging with one hand to control his fall. He landed inside the lot on both feet and started running south—straight through the parking lot. So far, not too bad.

  ‘Damien, that operative is gaining on you,’ Aviary said.

  ‘Copy that,’ Damien said.

  From what he remembered of the map on his phone, the next three blocks were entirely public housing or at least very spaced-out apartments, giving him plenty of room to move discreetly and stay off the streets. It might not fool the operatives but it would keep him clear of any Blue Berets.

  ‘Crap,’ Aviary. ‘The dots aren’t moving.’

  ‘Have they stopped?’ Damien said.

  ‘I don’t know, you’re still moving,’ Aviary said. ‘Could be the Fifth Column satellite that’s relaying their locations. Hurricane is messing it up big time.’

  The parking lot hit a corner ahead and went left, out onto the avenue he’d come from. That was the last place he wanted to go, so he scaled the chain-link fence and moved deeper into residential. He ran between a public housing block and a playground, emerged out onto another street. It was a little more open than he liked but he had to keep going now. His path to the subway station was going to be far from perfect.

  ‘Damien!’ Aviary yelled in his ear. ‘He’s close. Take cover!’

  ‘What?’ Damien yelled over the wind and rain.

  ‘Wait! I mean, run! Run! Go left!’ she yelled. ‘Right! Go right!‘

  ‘Shit,’ he said, breaking into a run across the street.

  He hadn’t seen any movement but an operative could be close. He crossed the road, tried to stick to the walls, kept running. He passed a hotel on his left with nondescript cream brickwork. Then he struck it lucky. A large concrete playground on his left. Perfect.

  It was fenced off like everything else seemed to be around here, so he ran, climbed and hurled himself over. He landed with precision. That’s when he caught his first glimpse of the operative.

  ‘Fuck.’

  He was already soaked from the rain but he felt a colder chill run through him, shaking his fingers. The operative—Lijana from Lithuania—sprinted down the center of the street toward him.

  ‘Run run run!’ Aviary said into his ear.

  Damien tore across the concrete playground with renewed energy. The chain-link fence on the other side led him to a concrete basketball court, only that fence was twice as high. There was a shed next to it so he ran and scaled the shed, rolled to his feet and moved across the roof. The fence was only two feet away so he jumped from the shed, clung to the chain-link fence. He was already halfway up. In the rain, the chain-link was slippery and he had no grip with his dress shoes. Climbing an icicle would’ve been easier.

  The chain-link bowed with every step. He had to use his upper body strength to propel him over the top. By the time he cleared the fence, Lijana was already climbing with her sneakers. He watched her leap across the playground equipment, using one of the bright orange roofs to vault the fence in one jump.

  ‘I’m fucked,’ he said.

  ‘Damien!’ Aviary screamed.

  ‘I know!’ he yelled, running across the basketball court.

  ‘No!’ Aviary yelled. ‘They’re boxing you in!’

  Damien felt his stomach crumple when he saw another operative ahead of him, scaling the high fence he was planning to escape through. The operative was almost over the fence. Behind him, Lijana landed.

  On his right, a few concrete steps led to a door. The door was ajar. He ran for it. Shouldered through into a corridor. He was in a state school. Lijana wasn’t far behind. She drew her pistol.

  Damien weaved into a gymnasium. He ran for the other end, pulled open the double doors and continued into a second corridor. Lijana was close—he could hear her footsteps. He couldn’t give her a clear shot, even for a moment.

  There was a computer lab and some classrooms on his left, a cafeteria on his right. He checked the windows but they had bars over them. The school was locked up tight.

  ‘On your left!’ Aviary shouted.

  The lobby appeared on his left. He swerved into
it, stopped.

  The second operative stood in the entrance, between two large red doors. Damien recognized the operative’s face but struggled to recall his name. The operative aimed his pistol, but held his fire. It was then that Damien realized.

  They couldn’t shoot him.

  Denton didn’t want the meteorite damaged or prematurely fractured.

  ‘So that’s what you meant by on your left,’ Damien said quietly.

  ‘Wait, I’m pulling up the blueprint for the school now,’ Aviary said. ‘Take the stairs!’

  ‘Hand it over,’ the operative said to him. ‘And we can all walk away from this.’

  ‘Stairs are behind you, the way you came,’ Aviary said.

  A booming sound echoed from the street. Damien thought it was thunder, but then he saw the operative turn and dive across the lobby floor as .50 cal rounds punched through the red doors, splintering wood, brick and glass across the lobby.

  Damien turned and ran toward Lijana. She burst through the corridor in pursuit. The stairs were between them. Rounds punched through the walls, blasting brick and plaster, showering the lobby. Two rounds punched above Damien, covering him in fragments.

  He reached the stairs before she did. He ran up two at a time. His lungs burned for air. Lijana was closer now, five steps behind.

  ‘Where!’ Damien yelled.

  ‘Uh,’ Aviary said. ‘Uh, one second.’

  He didn’t have one second. He tried a classroom with unbarred windows. Trapped. Lijana had her knife out. Sliced.

  Damien moved from the blade’s path, tried to redirect her arm. She moved fast, her blows rapid and devastating. Damien didn’t like knives. And this was an excellent reminder of why.

  He scooped up a plastic chair with metal legs and pushed it into her advances. He swiveled the chair, its legs entangling her arms. Damien kicked for her knee, missed, glanced her shin. She faltered, regained her footing.

  Lijana pulled the chair away, sliced his midsection. The blade tore his shirt, grazed skin. He rolled backward across a desk. She monkey vaulted over it. He rolled off another, kicked it into her. She weaved around it, came in fast.