Hardy pushed the brake pedal to the floor, leaving more rubber on the street. He grabbed his mobile and spoke into the device. “Cherry, we’re here, but there’s no sign of the SUV.”
“Hold on. I’m hacking into the navigation systems now.”
“Tick tock, Cherry.”
“I know I know.”
Hardy and Cruz heard fingers tapping computer keys.
“I’m in. I see your signal.” A moment passed. “I got the other vehicle heading…northwest on…Fleminggatan.”
“And Dahlia’s phone?”
“I’m still getting a hit from your location.”
Facing Cruz, Hardy pointed through the windshield. “We have to make sure—”
“I’ll check the hotel for her.” Cruz shouldered her door open.
“Call Cherry when you know something,” he shouted before the door shut. Hardy stomped on the gas and was gone.
Charity: “The vehicle just turned left on Marie…Bergs…Gatan. Boy, these names—”
“Talk me through it, Cherry. I can’t read street signs and drive. Tell me where to go.”
“Turn left at Jakobs…Gatan. You’re there…turn now.”
Hand over hand, Hardy made the curve on two wheels. “Now what?”
“I think he’s heading for the airport. If that’s true…you can catch up to him if you hang a left at…oh boy…Ragnar…Ostbergs…Plan.”
“What the hell kind of…” Hardy gripped the wheel tighter and sped forward. “Just tell me when to turn.”
Thirty seconds later, Charity: “Take the next street—left—and follow that up with a sharp right at the next road.”
Hardy did as instructed.
“Open it up. Except for two roundabouts, it’s a straight stretch to Bromma Airport.”
Hardy did as instructed, and the SUV went over a hundred miles per hour.
“Pence’s entered the highway. He’s only a mile ahead of you. Wait a minute.”
“What is it, Cherry?” Hardy navigated the roundabout and accelerated.
“The highway’s closed. It looks like they’re rerouting people to the airport through Bromma. He’ll have to slow down. You’ll be on him just after you get to the borough.”
Swerving in and out of light traffic, Hardy made it through the second roundabout. “Coming up on Bromma…which way, Cherry?”
“Go right at Kvarn…Backsvagen…the first street you come to once you enter the roundabout.”
“Copy that.” Hardy looked between three trees on his right and saw an identical SUV disappear behind a building. Hardy’s SUV skidded and fishtailed through the curve. “I got him, Cherry.” He straightened the wheel, situated himself in the seat, You’re mine now, and punched the accelerator.
Hardy drew up behind Pence at First Hotel Brommaplan, waiting for his opportunity.
“You’re right on him, Hardy. What are you going to do?”
“Let me know when you get word from Cruz.”
He zipped by building after building on both sides of the street. Hardy frowned. I can’t keep this up much longer. He’ll spook and I’ll have a real car chase on my hands. A half a mile later, Charity broke into his thoughts.
“I have Cruz on the other line. Dahlia’s safe.”
“Copy that.” He rocked his right foot forward and got into the oncoming lane.
“Be careful, Hardy.”
When the right front corner of his SUV reached the left rear corner of Pence’s ride, Hardy cranked the steering wheel to the right. Metal collided with metal. He eased off the gas and watched the lead SUV spin out of control, slide sideways and back into a streetlamp.
Hardy brought his foot down hard on the brake, and the two-ton behemoths faced each other; getting out of his, he was greeted with a barrage of gunfire. Bullets skipped and skidded off the hood and pavement, creating a light show on the dimly lit street.
Drawing his Walther PPQ M2, he returned fire before darting to the rear and squatting at the back bumper. Silence was followed by several gunshots and more silence. Hardy leaned out, sent a volley alongside his vehicle and took cover. “Give it up, Pence. You’re not going anywhere.”
“That’s what you think. I didn’t come this far just to give up.”
Hardy covered his head when window glass rained down on him following a string of fire. He glanced around in all directions, searching for cover. “So tell me. Why did you do all this? Were Cruz and I a part of your plan from the beginning?” Get him talking, Hardy.
“No…not until I saw your girlfriend at dinner that night.”
Hardy gave the area another look. Those buildings are too far away. He’ll pick me off before I get there.
“I knew,” Pence continued, “if I got you two out of there that whatever agency you worked for would mobilize every resource to get Wells.”
Hardy squatted at the left rear bumper. “And you figured you’d tag along for the ride.” He swapped out a partially spent magazine for a full one.
“What can I say? I still had my Army connections. They got me on your team and…well…you know the rest.”
Hardy crept along the left side of his SUV. “One thing I don’t get.” He stopped at the open door. “How does Weston fit into all this?”
“Wells gave up the location of where he had hidden the flash drive. I just needed to give you a name that would get me to Stockholm.”
“So you sold out a buddy of yours.” Hardy slipped inside the running vehicle.
“Every war has its collateral damage. You should know that.”
Hardy put the transmission in ‘drive’ and, Here’s some damage for you, sent the SUV on a collision course with the other vehicle.
… … … … …
His door jammed, Hardy crawled across the front seat and fell out of the passenger side of the SUV. Horns from both four-wheel drives played an unrhythmic tune. He put his hand down on broken glass and got to his feet. Shaking his head and hand, he staggered a short distance before getting his bearings and creeping up to Pence’s vehicle.
A peek through the doorframe told him his mark was not inside. Slowly, he made his way to the rear, gun up, finger on the trigger. He peeled around the corner and pointed his weapon in all directions—no Pence.
On the opposite side, he repeated the process—no Pence. Hardy spun around and stared into the darkness. A tiny grove of trees and short shrubs obscured his vision. He whirled around in time to see the blur of a figure. After soaring through the air, Hardy landed; the Walther left his grasp. He did a backward somersault, got to his feet and saw the first punch coming, a right cross.
Hardy’s left hand shot up before his right delivered a blow to Pence’s left eye. Unfazed, the man came back with two punches to Hardy’s midsection and an uppercut, sending the FBI agent stumbling sideways.
“Is that the best you got?” Pence danced. “I expected more from you.” He rushed forward and stopped when his opponent’s hands came up, a feigned attack. Laughing, Pence danced and darted left and right, hands up to his face. “You should know I boxed in the Army. I used to revel in knocking the snot out of new recruits.” He beckoned with his hands. “Come and get some.”
After wiping his chin, Hardy eyed the blood on the back of his hand. “One flaw in your plan.” He charged, came in low and feinted right. Pence took the bait, opening up his right side. Hardy connected with a left cross, grabbed the back of his foe’s neck and drove a knee into the man’s midsection. Going down, he swung a leg and swept the older man’s foot. “I’m not a new recruit.”
On his back, Pence spun and kicked Hardy’s feet out from under him, bringing the FBI agent crashing to the ground beside him.
Hardy blocked an elbow strike and caught Pence’s ribcage with a vicious blow, forcing air out of the man’s lungs. Hardy rolled away and stood.
Making it to his feet, Pence listed and took a couple unsteady steps, holding his side and gasping for a full breath.
Hardy came in hot, swinging fists—two to the head, one to the gut. He grabbed Pence’s wrist, twisted and dragged the man’s arm over his shoulder; the body followed.
Pence crashed to the concrete, his face contorting and his free hand reaching for his back.
Hardy wedged a knee into the man’s neck, twisted the hand more and sent his other knee into Pence’s elbow.
Pence howled and slapped the roadway, his legs flopping around.
“A little more pressure and…snap.” Hardy held the position for several seconds. “Where’s Trebuchet? Tell me where it is and this all ends.”
The former Ranger let out a strained laugh. “Go f—”
Hardy pulled. Pence screamed. “Where…is…Trebuchet?”
“Okay, okay,” the man sucked in a breath, “in my…pocket…right front.”
Switching Pence’s wrist to his other hand and fishing around in the man’s jean pocket, Hardy did not see the blow to his crotch. Instant agony filling his stomach, he let go of the wrist. A left cross to the temple sent him reeling. On his back, holding his groin and head, he heard metal scrape against metal before seeing the glint of the blade.
Pence landed on Hardy’s midsection and swung his arm. Hardy caught the hand, but Pence’s bodyweight brought the point of the knife closer. His other hand was trapped between the two men’s groins. Hardy’s arm burned; the sharp blade a few inches away from his chest. He wrenched his hand free and thrust a thumb into Pence’s eye. Crying out, the man turned away.
The weight on Hardy lessened. He re-positioned his grip on Pence’s hands, let the knife’s handle rest on his chest and stopped resisting. A split-second later, he and Pence were nose-to-nose. Hardy reached around with both arms and hugged his adversary as hard as he could.
A trickle of blood formed at the corner of Pence’s mouth. He half smiled and half sneered, his teeth stained red. “Well done.” He grimaced. “See you in…” his eyelids dropped, “hell,” and his head fell onto Hardy’s shoulder.
Hardy took a breath and rolled the dead man to one side, the knife handle protruding from the body. He took a few seconds to gather his strength and got up on one knee. Crossing his forearms over bended knee, he observed the corpse, the deceased’s last words, See you in hell, echoing in Hardy’s head.
Cruz’s words came next…the One who created the universe, the world and us…chose to speak to you. Hardy clasped his hands, glimpsed Pence’s body and replayed the dead man’s final farewell in his mind, See you in hell, before bowing his head. “Not if I have anything to say about it.” Closing his eyes, he did something he had not done in a while. God…
∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞
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