Fight Fire With Fire. Page 7

  Fifteen feet away, Max laid on the branch hanging over the water, his legs hooked around the wood. The boat passed. Max waited till it was nearly beyond his reach to grab the rear man and drag him off the back. It rocked the craft, and Riley dropped the vine around Vaghn’s head and shoulders. He swatted at it, lifting one arm to take it off and Riley pulled. He jerked up, his legs scraping the boat and the man in front turned, drew his gun. Vaghn kicked, dangling over the water, and Riley almost laughed when crocs slid into the river from the opposite bank.

  Vaghn saw them and screamed. “Help me! You have to help me! Shoot them! Shoot them!”

  The twins didn’t. The boat driver was on the bank, out cold and face down already. Way to whip on it, Max.

  Riley’s muscles strained and he swung Vaghn, the branch bending under their weight. He heard a crack. Maybe this wasn’t such a great idea. Vaghn was sliding out of the loop. The second guard had recovered, aiming his weapon, but he didn’t shoot, searching the foliage for a target. Crocs moved in. Riley heaved, giving the guy a chance and let go. Vaghn barely landed on the bank, wet to his thighs and digging at the mud to get out.

  “Drac,” Riley warned.

  “I’m on him,” Max said.

  Riley moved briskly down, tough to do going backwards, then he jumped. Max held the vines, having a little too much fun sweeping the jungle floor with Vaghn. The geek clawed the ground and screamed like a slasher movie victim, false arrest or something. Riley was on him, a knee in his back, and pushing his face into the ground so he’d shut up. He pulled off his backpack. Max tossed him cuffs and he twisted Vaghn’s arms behind his back and locked them down.

  “Help me, you have to!” he shouted at the boat trolling just out of range.

  One man was looking for his buddy. Oh yeah, feel the love. Riley stood, pulling Vaghn to his feet. Recognition was instant and Riley smiled. “You knew this would happen.”

  “Give it up, Donovan. You have no jurisdiction here!”

  “Ahh, but today, I do.”

  Max flipped the Diplomatic Security ID in front of his face. It paid to have friends in the intelligence community.

  “That’s bullshit. You’re Dragon One.” Vaghn struggled.

  Riley tightened his grip, pulling him back toward the dirt road, Max covering his back. It didn’t surprise him that Vaghn knew his business.

  Mud and dirt spewed as Sebastian braked nearby. “My God. It worked?” He jumped out and sighted over the open door at the river.

  “Not for long.” The boat moved swiftly upriver toward the bridge.

  Quickly, Riley threw open the door, and with a hand on his head, pushed Vaghn into the back of the truck cab. Like a panicked toddler, Vaghn tried to go out the other side, but Max was already there, moving in and closing the door. Sebastian hit the gas.

  “You won’t get away with this. Are you stupid? Wait, I forgot, you all are.”

  “It’d be wise to shut your mouth about now,” Sebastian said.

  “You shouldn’t have messed with me again.”

  Riley unclipped the satchel, and Vaghn kicked out to keep it. With his arm across his throat, Riley pinned him. “Don’t make me wish I’d killed you the first time.”

  “You don’t scare me, Donovan.”

  He met his gaze. “I should.” He punched, once.

  Vaghn didn’t make another sound, blood trickling out his nose.

  “Did that feel as good as the last time?” Max said.

  “Neither was enough. Head to the jet,” Riley said. “We leave this country now.” Damn cops. There were too many unknown factors going on. Who was helping Vaghn? The guys in the boat were muscle and using a familiar route. But it wasn’t their assignment to investigate further, just bring him in. Besides, Vaghn wouldn’t admit to anything. He never had, even under oath.

  “You know we’re kissing off about ten grand in equipment?” Max said, poking through Vaghn’s gear. In the satchel was a laptop. The backpack contained a couple disposable phones, an MP3 player, a PSP, a couple games, clothes, booze, and a bottle of pills. The small handgun made Max snicker as he turned on the laptop.

  “I’ll take the loss.” Vaghn slumped and Riley pushed him off. “That was too easy.”

  “Tell that to my aching back,” Max said. He inserted a flash drive and with a few swift key strokes, downloaded the hard drive.

  “They could have shot us and taken him, and the lack of cops says something.” He waved to the area. Still not a Singapore police vehicle in sight. From behind the driver’s seat, Riley scanned the streets, the cars. The men in the boats were more than prepared.

  Max replaced the laptop in the case, then searched Vaghn, emptying his pockets.

  Riley picked up a cell phone, then found another just like it. He turned one on and was scrolling the numbers when Sebastian said, “We have road warriors.”

  He leaned to see. An all terrain vehicle popped out from under the trees.

  “Strap in,” Sebastian said. “They’re out for blood.”

  Seletar Airstrip

  Safia backed her bike out of view in between some bushes as the car zipped past her position. She didn’t need to track him. The marker on his car was working just fine. But he didn’t seem happy and she needed to know why.

  “Did you get that call?” she asked Ellie.

  “Sorry, too short to triangulate. The plane, however, is heading toward Thailand. I’ll track.”

  Well, it was clear that Red Shoes was more than just a pretty face in this. Safia’d recognized Barasa’s fury, and for an instant there, thought he’d smack Red Shoes. Till she saw the backup in black hidden under the jet’s stairs. Smart woman. Safia half expected the commandos to put two in Barasa if things didn’t go their way.

  Red Shoes was the money, a shocker, decent firepower notwithstanding. She didn’t trust Barasa, wise move. Not being seen with him only slightly wiser. But then, that’s the game, bad versus bad, and the good guys have to fight harder. Safia swung her leg over the bike and started the engine, then flipped down her visor. The tracking beacon showed Barasa was headed toward his hotel. The call from the restaurant phone was from the other side of the island, but there had been too many crowded signals on cell towers to pinpoint the call’s exact location.

  Out in the open now, she could put a laser sight on him.

  Not that it was a consideration. Probably annoy the big cheese though. She didn’t want this guy in U.S. custody—yet. His usefulness was limited from behind bars. She’d learned the hard way that when criminals had a benefit, the Company exploited them. She agreed, let them dig their own graves, but her boss wasn’t in the field with a twenty-three-year old female Marine intelligence expert as her only link. Though Ellie wasn’t just her relay, but more like a little sister who completely ignored her good advice on men and pushed the fashion envelope. Yet they were both alone. Once they’d been tanked on Singapore Slings, and almost got arrested for hotdogging a couple of borrowed jet skis down the channel. Her lips curved. That’s where her invisible friendships with the local police came in handy. The Company would have hated to bail them out of that one.

  “Base to Raven.”

  Okay, Raven was a new one. Ellie came up with the names and changed them often. Safia could always tell when she was upset. The names got a little raunchy. She could care less, though she thought “maggot breath” for their last subject was inventive.

  “Gotcha.”

  “He’s on the phone again and changing directions.”

  She glanced at the GPS tracker on the dash screen and slowed to take a residential street. “Can you intercept the call, let me hear?”

  “That wouldn’t be authorized.”

  “Screw waiting for Langley. They’re not here right now.”

  A sigh came through the microphone. Safia even heard the rustle of papers while Ellie wrestled with her conscience. Langley would approve or she’d threaten something. It’d worked before and Safia wasn’t above stickin
g some pins in people to get what she needed. If they wanted her to fight the good fights, she had to have access to intelligence and quickly.

  “I’m on him.” A pause and then, “Damn, he’s got a scrambler.”

  “Ohh, he’s a nasty boy.” Scramblers weren’t easy to come by, no matter who you bribed. But one the CIA couldn’t extract?

  “Let’s hope it’s a phone sex line.”

  Safia smiled to herself.

  “The longer he chats, the more time to track,” Ellie said. “Why aren’t you moving?”

  “I want to wait to see what direction he takes and alter my route.” She couldn’t risk exposing her cover by tailing too close.

  “I’d reconsider that. He’s either going to have a suit made or he’s headed to the heliport.”

  Safia keyed in a search for the nearest helipad from her position. Just about every high rise had one, four were on the same street. But Ellie was right, he was in the garment district. She started to ask for satellite imaging when Ellie said, “He’s speeding. Okay he’s turning. You need to move.”

  “I’ll get there. You keep tabs because if he takes off for the far reaches, I’m sunk.”

  She couldn’t outrun a chopper. Leaning over the handlebars, she turned back onto the Central Expressway and toward the garment district. She rode a wide berth. No telling which direction he’d fly, but she stayed in the open for the best opportunities to get close, fast. Impatient for him to move and give her something to chase, she hailed Ellie.

  “SAT has him on the roof. Must have taken the express lift.”

  That always punched her stomach to her knees. Safia slowed, pulling off the road to a petrol station. She refilled the tank, then stretched, her gaze on the small screen showing the chopper lift off a mile away.

  “The north channel,” Ellie said, then sounded confused. “Where’s he going? There’s no place to land beyond Seletar airport.”

  “What have I told you about bad guys?”

  “They ignore all the laws, all the time.”

  She said it like a kid reciting dry poetry. “Think twisted and depraved.”

  “That’s easy for you.”

  Safia laughed as she merged onto the highway. This wouldn’t be so hard. The chopper was air traffic and well, less up there to trace. She angled around cars, squeezed the motorcycle places she shouldn’t, then saw the black chopper. It was still gaining altitude. Who’s got you jumping through hoops again, nasty boy?

  “They’re doing a pattern sweep. Looking for something,” Base said. “Their central area is Sungei Kadut.”

  “Inland?”

  “Negative, the water side.”

  It would be, she thought, and shot off the Seletar Expressway to Sungei Kadut, beneath several confusing overpasses, then past the new high rises. The chopper hovered over land, then paralleled the river. Drug trafficking, she wondered, aware the local police had problems with small time players using the river, yet when the chopper banked hard toward the Johor Bahru bridge, she shot north to get ahead of it. Six blocks and she lost it as the land dipped. It forced her to higher ground on the east side. Singapore, she thought, was sinking under its own weight. She was never going to identify Barasa’s target if she didn’t locate the man.

  Safia stopped the bike near the bridge walking path. Pedestrians ignored her, marching across. She unlatched the bike’s pack and grabbed her monocular. She sighted on the cars and trucks filing toward Malaysia, then saw a Land Rover ATV, stripped down and crowding a truck. Light bounced off weapons. Damn.

  “Be my eyes, Base, get that dark green truck.”

  Her gaze darted from the chopper to the truck to the Land Rover. The chopper hovered over the west bridge traffic, scaring drivers. Most drove faster to get away from the chaos, and when the Rover shot ahead, Safia understood the tactic. Use the bridge to box them in and shoot. She parked the bike and ran to the ladder of bars maintenance workers used for repairs and climbed. She reached the top as the Rover spun sideways and stopped traffic. Cars skidded, veering to the sides, several impacted, but Barasa’s desperation was clear. He wanted what was in that truck.

  And Safia couldn’t let him have it.

  Sungei Kadut

  Singapore

  Riley and Max leaned over the backseat, gathering ammo. Vaghn slumped sideways, still out. The ATV chased parallel, joining them on the expressway to the bridge.

  “Get off this road!”

  “I can’t. Traffic’s too heavy!” Sebastian pointed and like a swarm, little cars darted around them, blocking exits.

  The bridge was wide, a walkway on either side, lanes feeding traffic to Johbar, Malaysia and Singapore, but it was nearly rush hour. The cars weren’t the worst. Rickshaws and overloaded cyclists clogged the highway, some stacked with so many goods it’s a wonder they didn’t topple over. Hoping for a turn signal was useless. The ATV sped up alongside and Riley aimed out the window as Max flattened over Vaghn to join him. The ATV pulled away, speeding ahead, then clipping a car. The sloped, white two-door spun, smashing into another lane and the pile-up began.

  Sebastian swerved left, finding a hole.

  A helicopter rose from sea level, hovering over the water on the left.

  “Jaasus. Look at the size of that thing!” It was rigged for rescue.

  Max shook the prisoner awake. “Who’s after you?”

  Vaghn blinked, looked around at the smoking cars and smiled. “I told you not to fuck with me.”

  Riley shoved Vaghn’s head down and removed the handcuffs, securing his hands in front. Vaghn frowned and Riley said, “I want you alive.” To stand trial for treason.

  Vaghn smirked. “You don’t have orders to shoot me, do yah?”

  “That’s never stopped me before.” Riley cinched the cuffs tight. “And laddie, I’m volunteering for your firing squad.”

  Vaghn paled and Riley pushed him to the floor. The chopper rose and backed away, then its side door slid back. Men in Singapore rescue uniforms confused him. A chopper wasn’t necessary and where the hell were the police?

  “Sebastian, get us off this bridge. And where the hell is the ATV?”

  “In front. He wants to play chicken.”

  The ATV was crowding again and Riley searched for a way off the bridge, then spotted a dark figure crouched on the walkway, hidden behind the slatted rails. He recognized the long slim barrel a second too late and saw a muzzle flash an instant before the right front tire exploded.

  At this speed, it was all over. Riley braced himself seconds before the truck flipped.

  Safia hunched down as the truck fell on its side and kept skidding. Cars collided, smashing into the barriers and the truck slid a good forty feet before it stopped.

  “Tell me that’s not what you intended!” Ellie shouted and Safia winced at the high pitch.

  Not really, but . . . “Barasa wants them badly and that’s good enough reason to screw with his plans.” It wouldn’t stop him, but it might give her time to learn more. The chopper was being tracked by Singapore Air Force right now.

  “But in the middle of rush hour?”

  “Hey, I didn’t pick the place for this!” Enough people had seen the Rover and truck dogfight to get out of the way.

  Barasa was in the helicopter, his suit jacket flapping in the wind as he shouted orders into a hand radio. But what scared her was the two men in Singapore emergency rescue uniforms hovering on the edge, ready to deploy on cables. Fakes, she thought. But who was in the truck that he’d risk this destruction and notice?

  Safia aimed at a fake and fired. He flailed, and the body rolled out of the craft and fell, caught short on the cable. Two men leapt from the Rover and ran toward the truck. They didn’t bother to hide their weapons. She’d seen that murderous look before and put in a call to the Singapore Police Force to protect the locals.

  The impact drove them into the ground, everything inside the truck slapped to the left, including Vaghn. The windows sha
ttered with a pop, the sparks of metal to asphalt spraying like fireworks till it stopped sliding.

  “Everyone okay?” Sebastian asked. “Sorry about that.”

  “Yeah,” Max said. “What the hell did that?” He rubbed his shoulder, trying to get his footing.

  “There’s a shooter on the bridge, right side!” Sebastian kicked out the front glass and climbed out, weapon first. Max was behind him. Vaghn crawled frantically through the back like an inchworm. Riley caught his leg, but he kicked violently, leaving his shoe behind and rolling onto the pavement. Drivers spilled out of cars to rubberneck, a few abandoning them and running.

  “Later sucker, that’s my ride!”

  “My dyin’ ass.”

  Riley was right behind him as Vaghn ran toward the chopper, waving handcuffed arms. He reached for Vaghn’s shirt and grabbed hold as the chopper swept in low. But the ATV guys were shooting and machine-gun fire chewed the road toward him. He ducked for cover, losing his grip. Vaghn fell, slamming to the ground.

  A young family was trapped in a compact car and he motioned them to stay down, then darted behind an empty car and bolted toward Vaghn. Intermittent gunfire pushed him back as Vaghn reached the side of the bridge. The chopper rose high, then dipped nose-down and swept in. A uniformed man hung out the door, reaching for their package. Shots hit around Riley as he aimed for Vaghn and fired. A bullet gouged his leg and Vaghn folded to the ground. Riley hauled ass, but a commando instantly dropped from the cable and grabbed the geek. Bloody hell, he couldn’t loose him! But bullets chunked the asphalt at his ankles, and he dove behind an abandoned car, then shouted to Max.

  “The markers! Max! Get the markers!”

  From the north end of the bridge, the ATV guys advanced, covering for the chopper. One man fired a stream and an elderly man with stacks of goods on a bike fell back as bullets went through the boxes and into him. Jesus. Riley checked his pulse, cursing Vaghn as Max crawled into their wrecked truck and came back with the biomarker pistol. On his back, he loaded the cartridges, came to his knees and hurled it. Riley caught the stubby gun before it hit the ground, then ran as the guy pulled Vaghn into the chopper.