The Phoenix Variant: The Fifth Column 3 (30 page)

DC ran for the platform entrance. A few tracks ahead he could see a train with blue livery. He reached the platform and peered around the corner.

Nasira was pacing. Behind her, he could see Jay sitting on the ground. Trapped inside the box perimeter of the motion sensors. He started down the ramp. Nasira saw him and stopped pacing. He picked up his speed and ran the length of the platform.

Nasira held out her hand. ‘Don’t come too close,’ she said.

He knew, so he stopped well short of her.

‘I don’t think there’s another perimeter but just in case.’

He realized she was also trapped in a perimeter. ‘Good to see you too,’ DC said.

Nasira’s attention shifted to Sophia’s ruck on his back. ‘What are you doing?’

‘It’s the only way.’ DC moved for the doors on a nearby train carriage.

‘The hell you talking about?’ Nasira yelled.

He paused in the doorway. ‘Denton won’t trigger the explosives if the meteorite’s here.’

Nasira’s eyes burned into him. ‘You’re not saving us, are you? You’re saving that stupid rock.’

He slipped the ruck from his shoulders, leaving the sword on his back. ‘This rock
is
saving you.’

‘You’re full of shit,’ Nasira said.

He stepped into the carriage and walked halfway, picked a luggage compartment at random. He stowed the ruck inside, making sure Nasira and Jay couldn’t see. He was about to step out of the carriage when he noticed movement at the edge of his vision. Someone was walking the platform toward Nasira and Jay. He froze, resisting the urge to duck. The train’s windows were tinted: they wouldn’t see him unless he moved suddenly.

There was more than one individual. He counted four in his field of vision. They were dressed casually but he noticed tactical vests under their jackets. He noticed blades on their hips, swords in sheaths. They all carried carbines.

Except the fifth figure who slid between them. She carried only a sword.

‘We’ll be meeting again now,’ she said.

Her accent was Jamaican, but DC did not recognize her from the Fifth Column or any of its projects. Not that it surprised him. Even as the former General of the Fifth Column’s Tactical Division, he hardly knew any of the organization’s special projects—at least until he’d volunteered for one.

‘Nice sword,’ Nasira said.

‘Not believing we’ve been introduced,’ the Jamaican woman said.

‘Not believing I want to be introduced,’ Nasira said. ‘Didn’t I hear you guys were at the Astoria? How did that work out for you?’

The woman smiled and moved past her soldiers, toward Nasira. ‘Five by five. Slide your pistol out where we see it now.’

Nasira did as instructed, placing her stolen NYPD Glock on the floor and stepping away.

‘I wouldn’t come any closer if I were you,’ Nasira said. ‘This platform is rigged to blow.’ She pointed to an imaginary line of the platform. ‘Motion sensor. Step over that line and we’re toast, pal.’

The Jamaican woman didn’t seem convinced, but she stopped walking.

‘That a tall story you expecting us to be down with,’ she said. ‘Where the explosives be at now?’

Nasira pointed at the carriage. DC flinched, even though no one could see him. She was pointing directly at him. 
DC slowly lowered himself in the carriage, aware that he was crouching over a long line of demolition charges Denton had placed down the aisle. He could see the door at the end that connected to the next carriage. If he could open it quietly and move through he had a chance of making it to the end of the platform and escaping up the ramp. It was a small chance but it was all he had. 
He had to move. Now.

Shifting to his hands and knees, he checked over his shoulder to make sure his sword, in its sheath, wasn’t going to catch on any of the seats or make a sound. Satisfied, he started moving.

The doors at the end of the carriage lurched open and one of her soldiers stepped through. DC halted in the aisle, still on hands and knees, and rolled into a row of seats. He grasped the sword on his back, ready to draw. But he knew at the same time that he didn’t have much room to get it out of its sheath, let alone use it.

‘What do you want?’ he heard Nasira say.

‘Simple now,’ the woman said. ‘We just here for the package, nothing more.’

The soldier moved through the aisle, each step careful and measured. DC imagined he was inspecting the demolition charges. He was drawing closer. If he walked past, DC would be hard to miss. And the soldier’s wavy daggers were ideal for the confined spaces of this train carriage.

They’re after the meteorite, he thought. That had to be why they were here.

‘We don’t have it,’ Nasira said.

‘Looks like you not hear me too good,’ the woman said. ‘Half the package be sitting behind you.’

The soldier’s footsteps were getting closer. DC started to remove his sword, slowly, silently. His hand moved out at a two o’clock angle, higher as he lifted the sword. He stopped when his hand hit the window beside him. Carefully, he shifted onto one knee. The soldier paused. He hoped he hadn’t given away his presence. He heard a luggage-compartment door creak open.

DC drew one leg in from under the seats and planted a boot quietly on the linoleum floor. He tilted to one side and continued drawing his sword directly above. Then stopped when he realized his hand was about to pop into view above the headrests.

‘What the hell are they talking about?’ Nasira said.

DC figured she was talking to Jay, because he said, ‘Long story. Black market. They want our abilities. Or, like, blood.’

‘What the fuck?’ Nasira said. ‘Can they even do that? Can you even—? Lady, you better believe you just walked into a war zone.’

If DC tilted his body any further he’d fall into the aisle. All he could do was keep his sword at half-draw and hope the soldier didn’t come any closer.

‘Everything cool. We be taking your friend here,’ the woman said. ‘If you want to be living, you step out the way for us.’

‘This joint is crawling with special forces and operatives,’ Nasira said. ‘They’ll shoot you on sight, you stupid bitch!’

The woman sighed. ‘Just shoot her and be done with it.’

DC drew his sword completely from its sheath. The soldier’s boots scuffed in the aisle, one row behind him. DC wielded his sword with both hands and thrust it into the seat behind him. He heard the breath leave the soldier’s lungs. He looked over his shoulder to see the soldier freeze in position, mouth open, sword through his upper leg.

DC withdrew the sword from the seat. The soldier grunted, hands trembling with adrenalin and quite possibly rage. He aimed his carbine and fired.

Nothing happened.

DC put the end of his sword through the soldier’s neck, severing his windpipe. He kept it there, guiding the soldier to the floor slowly and with minimal gurgling. Blood pooled on the aisle around him.

‘And that’s why you don’t steal other people’s weapons,’ DC said.

Through the window, he saw another soldier aim his carbine at Nasira. He was checking the carbine’s chamber. He removed the magazine and checked the round on top. But DC knew this was no stoppage or double feed.

They were carrying Blue Beret weapons. Fingerprint coded.

Which variant of Blue Berets—Denton’s or the Commander’s—he did not know.

But he could check. He carefully picked up the carbine from the dead soldier and wrapped his primary hand around the pistol grip. He checked the small diode next to the selector switch. It blinked red.

Not the Commander’s masked Blue Berets then. Unfortunately. The weapons were useless even to him.

Through the window, he could see the woman push past the leading soldier. She drew her sword from a sheath engraved with a headless serpent and moved toward Nasira.

‘Don’t come any closer!’ Nasira yelled.

DC had two choices. He could continue through the carriages while everyone was distracted and slip away, unnoticed. It was his plan, after all. Or he could turn around and help Nasira.

Could he even do much though? Aside from being sliced to ribbons.

All he had was one sword. There were five of them.

‘Please lower your hands,’ the woman said. ‘Best if I am to remove your head clean.’

Denton stood off to the side, USP pistol aimed at Sophia.

‘The bag with the meteorite, if you will,’ Denton said. ‘Go on, bring your friend up.’

Sophia realized Czarina was still wearing a ruck of her own. Denton thought the meteorite was inside.

‘Sorry to disappoint you,’ Sophia said. ‘We don’t have it.’

Denton remained in position. ‘You have five minutes to bring it to me or I blow up one of your friends,’ he said.

She noticed the other hand in his pocket. He removed it, revealing a simple two-way radio transmitter.

‘Which one? I don’t know,’ he said. ‘Lucky dip?’

‘That doesn’t have the range,’ Sophia said.

Denton smiled. ‘No,’ he said. ‘But the antenna in the master tower does.’

She returned the smile. ‘Then you should have no problems blowing up your own meteorite,’ she said. ‘Four thousand degrees? That’s hot enough to fuse the meteorite to thermate, mixing it with molten iron.’

Denton’s face paled. He fished out his touchscreen GPS, checking the location of the meteorite.

‘If your precious Phoenix virus doesn’t last long in warm climates then I doubt—’

‘Oh shut up,’ Denton said. ‘I can already read your mind, I don’t need to hear your jokes twice.’

Sophia smiled. ‘Double the fun.’

Denton was breathing heavily now. ‘You brought it—’ his words barely reached his lips ‘—here.’

Sophia blinked. ‘Isn’t that where you wanted? I was just doing as you told. You know, following instructions.’

Denton pursed his lips. ‘You have no further use,’ he said. ‘I can kill you right now.’

Sophia holstered her empty Glock on her hip. ‘Then why don’t you?’

Denton must have read her mind again because his face paled yet another shade. ‘Because he’s pointing his stupid pistol at me, isn’t he?’

‘Yep,’ Sophia said. ‘He is.’

Off to her left, out of Denton’s field of vision, the Commander was sighting Denton with his pistol, an old Colt .45. She could see the Commander’s tactical vest was shiny, and not from the rain. He was losing blood. She didn’t know how much longer he’d be standing.

She could feel the Commander’s emotions wash over her, strong enough to eclipse Denton’s burning rage. She felt his exhaustion, pain, and something re-opening to hurt inside him. He was different from his son.

With Denton’s attention diverted, she let her thoughts free. Where was Czarina? She couldn’t see her from the corner of her vision. Was she armed? Was she even OK?

‘Sidney,’ the Commander said. ‘It’s over.’

Denton turned slightly, keeping his aim on Sophia. ‘I’m Gabriel now.’

‘New York City’s open,’ the Commander said. ‘The army has this place surrounded.’

‘I should kill you now.’

The voice came from somewhere unexpected. It wasn’t the Commander. It wasn’t Denton.

Czarina moved to the top of the stairs. She wasn’t carrying the carbine any longer. Through the edge of her vision, Sophia thought she might be carrying a pistol.

It was a knife.

The blade trembled in her grasp.

She seemed only a heartbeat from charging Denton.

‘Czarina,’ Sophia said. ‘Stand down.’

She didn’t know who would shoot Czarina first, if she made her move. Denton or the Commander.

Denton’s nostrils flared. ‘I can smell your fear,’ he said to the Commander. ‘That’s smart.’

‘Drop your weapon,’ the Commander said.

‘No,’ Denton said. ‘Give in. Do it. Take it all.’

‘Command acknowledged,’ Czarina said.

‘No!’ Sophia yelled.

Czarina’s trembling subsided. Her gaze seared through Denton.

‘Who pays the piper,’ Czarina said. ‘Calls the tune.’

‘Czarina!’ Sophia shouted.

Czarina threw the knife.

Denton leaned to one side. The blade slipped past him.

The Commander opened fire on Czarina. She dropped to her knees, confused.

‘No!’ Sophia yelled.

Denton drew his pistol to his chest, pivoted, punched out. He lined his sights on the Commander.

The Commander, arms still extended, shifted his aim to Denton.

Denton fired.

The Commander fired.

Sophia sprinted for Denton. Closed the gap quickly. Targeted his pistol. She saw it leave his fingers. A round punched through Denton’s cheek. His cheek rippled. Fragments of tooth moved like confetti.

Another round disappeared into the Commander’s vest. He collapsed.

Denton was the last man standing.

He faltered, gargled something incomprehensible. Then growled. It echoed through the main concourse, sounded primal.

Sophia reached him. The pistol hit the ground. She moved in low, grasped for it.

Denton’s elbow connected with her forehead. She fell, sliding past Denton. Starbursts exploded across her vision. She couldn’t feel her head for a moment, then it came trickling back.

‘I saw that coming a mile off,’ Denton said, slurring his words through fractured teeth.

The tiny red dot on the sensor winked out.

Fraction by fraction, Aviary withdrew one hand. And then the other. She knew if she fucked this up, both Jay and Nasira would die. And then Nasira would probably haunt her as a ghost to remind her eternally that she wasn’t an operative and should’ve stayed away.

Sweat ran down her nose. She moved her remaining hand through the barrier and then slowly started her retreat.

One sensor down, one more to go.

She retreated, pushed herself off the carriage roof and landed back on the platform. Her entire face itched with sweat. She wiped it all away with the back of her hand.

‘Quickly!’ Damien said.

‘Going as fast as I can,’ she said.

She shoved the multitool in her jeans pocket and jumped onto the other train. She clung to the edge and hurled herself up to the roof. Her arms were trembling. But she didn’t need to move slowly until she moved closer to the sensor. She reached for her multitool. The sensors on the sides of the platform, boxing Damien in on his left and right, were still monitoring invisible barriers just along the outside of the train carriages. This prevented Damien from smashing a train window and bailing out the side. Or on top. Or underneath. Really, the only way he had out was to burrow through the platform or fly through the ceiling—neither of which was an option right now.

With her multitool poised before the sensor, she slowed right down again.

Aviary popped the panel and started cutting the wires. With that done, she pried the end of her multitool knife into the edge of the battery. Fraction by fraction, she pushed further. Sweat itched her face, collecting on her upper lip and eyebrows.

‘To laugh at death and show we’re not afraid,’ Aviary whispered.

She pushed a little more. The blade levered the battery out. It sprang from its receptacle. Aviary’s other hand was covering it, ready to grab it. The battery bounced into the palm of her hand. Her hand concealed its motion from the sensor on the other side. The battery—warm enough to trigger a sensor—bounced off the palm of her hand and back into the sensor’s panel.

The tiny red dot faded.

She breathed. Her body relaxed so quickly she almost collapsed on the carriage roof.

With barely the energy to speak, she said, ‘I did it.’

Damien was staring at her. He looked like someone had paused him in mid-sentence, his mouth open, eyebrows high.

‘I can walk through?’ Damien said.

Aviary pocketed her multitool and climbed down. ‘The sensors are dead. Batteries removed.’

‘And no explosion,’ Damien said.

She grinned. ‘I totally just saved an operative.’

She watched him tentatively step forward, across the imaginary line. He moved slowly at first, then once he was through the barrier he started to collect speed. She thought he was going to break into a run and move down the platform but he changed direction and moved to hug her. She returned the embrace but was too slow. He already had his phone out and was asking her how to find which platform Jay was on. He was swiping through the camera feeds.

‘I don’t know which one,’ Aviary said. ‘But when I was on top of that train I saw another one train just down that way.’ She pointed.

‘East,’ Damien said.

‘Yeah, that.’

He stared along the platform with a quickening pace.

‘Let’s go!’ he called over his shoulder.

Her legs seemed to have stopped working. She forced them into motion and tried to keep up with Damien.

The platform was exceedingly long—the ramp at the end almost a dot. It felt like a long time before she reached it but that was probably because she was quite unfit. She hit the ramp and followed Damien into the dining concourse. He was moving to the right, toward where she’d told him there was another train. She just hoped that was the train in Jay’s security camera feed.

He paused to wait for her, casting a glance behind them.

‘What is it?’ she gasped, sucking in air as she caught up.

‘Thought I heard—’

Something flashed past her. Knocked her to the ground. Knocked Damien to the ground. It congealed into view. Or her eyes were totally losing it and he’d been there all along.

It was a masked Blue Beret, only without the Blue Beret part. A masked operative?

Damien was on his feet, fighting the operative. The operative wielded a knife in one hand. Both hands. No, that didn’t seem good at all.

The operative and Damien danced across the floor. When they moved in close their limbs were a blur of short stabs and cuts. Almost too fast to make out the individual strikes.

‘Go!’ Damien yelled.

Aviary ran. She felt bad she’d just left Damien behind to get beaten up by some creepy operative but it’d be worse if the operative took even the half-second he’d need to gut her.