part0095

H e was awake this time when the plane started its descent but kept his eyes closed as he felt himself return from the temporary haven the flight had provided. Savage brought himself slowly back to the topic of what he was there to do. It was pleasant to take the plane across the country. The seats were comfortable, entertainment was available in the form of conversation with Anja—with whom he still had a connection thanks to the woman’s genius—as well as a couple of films, series, and Internet access. It was an enjoyable little isolated paradise up in the clouds, and now he had to come back to earth. He needed to return to the mindset of the man who would kick ass and chew bubblegum while forgetting to bring bubblegum.

Compartmentalization. He had to put everything else behind him. He needed to be…well, to use the character Anja had more or less pulled out her ass, The Savage.

He actually rather liked that. There was a reason why he had chosen it as a last name to begin with and having it as a moniker wasn’t a terrible thing. There were worse nicknames to be saddled with. He remembered one man on a team he’d been on called Chucky thanks to his face being scarred from an encounter with a landmine. Imagine being lucky enough to walk away from a landmine exploding, only to be nicknamed for a killer doll thanks to the scars the encounter had left?

The landing was a little rougher than he was used to and he gripped the arms of his seat as they touched down. The pressure against his seatbelt left him uncomfortable. He didn’t like that. It felt like he was going soft. Memories surfaced of the massive carriers used to ferry troops from one place to another, the kind that felt like earthquakes when they touched down. The pilots would always laugh and mock the newcomers who had the gall to complain about the roughness involved.

Savage shook his head, unbuckled, and stood up from his seat. He collected his bag on his way out. The stewardess hoped he had a great flight, and he nodded with a small smile because he didn’t want to have to make small talk. He wasn’t in the best of moods thanks to the odd sense of nostalgia that persisted. There was a reason for it, of course. Having been around his family would inevitably have consequences, even under the best of circumstances. He simply didn’t have the kind of mental power to keep it from affecting him. While that irked him as much as the emotions, he reminded himself he was only human, after all.

When he disembarked, a car was already waiting for him. It was a BMW, one of the newer M models with a powerful engine and powered by gas, unlike the Audi he had left to be delivered to the rental agency.

Sam sat on the hood and looked like she enjoyed a little sun out in the open a few miles away from the city of New York, which he could see in the distance. Terry stood outside the driver’s seat as if to claim the driving rights for himself and make sure his British counterpart wouldn’t try to steal his thunder.

“Hey, it’s the boss man,” Sam called when she saw him. She tilted her sunglasses down a little when she saw him move down the stairs toward her and grinned at him. “Coming off a private plane, no less. What do I have to do to get that kind of cheese coming my way?”

“Hell, my family live in the darker, meaner parts of London, so I expect they’re in some kind of life-threatening danger at least once a week,” she replied with a grin, released him, and brushed her hand over his jacket. “Now can I use the private jet?”

“Probably,” she replied. “You know, eventually. First, I need a vacation somewhere sunny with numerous beaches and where the gents are all shirtless, sweaty, and in possession of abs I can wash clothes on.”

“It’s good to see you again, Savage,” Terry said. “We heard about what’s happening to your family, and we’re here to help, whatever you need. Within reason, of course.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t ask you to do anything more demanding than risk your life, Terry,” he replied with a small smile, and the sniper nodded.

“I think I can live with that.” A rare smile touched his lips as he indicated for Savage to take his place in the back seat of the monster of a car they had gotten their hands on.

“This is a nice car,” he said and ran his hands over the leather seat as his teammates joined him in the vehicle. Terry started the vehicle and headed toward the entrance of the airfield. “How did you two get your hands on it again?”

“Anderson essentially gave us a blank check on everything we needed to keep tabs on Banks,” the other man replied. “Sam here said the area where we would track the man would be thick with cars like these, which I suppose she was right about.”

“The idea was to be able to blend in,” Sam explained and glanced at Savage in the back seat as they approached the bridge that would lead them to the heart of Manhattan. “We wouldn’t be able to do that in a Prius or anything like that. Besides, the BMW has a sturdier engine than most of the cars they have around there these days. The German make will ensure that it will be able to endure almost anything in case of a chase.”

He nodded. Anderson had shelled out to get him a good car in Seattle, so he doubted the man would make any noise about the rental the two had selected for themselves. Monroe might have something to say about it, of course. Anderson was leading with his heart a little on this one, but Monroe would be the one who actually had to sign off on all the expenditures.

She wouldn’t be too harsh about it, though, he thought. She seemed like the kind of person who realized that, while this was very personal for Savage, it was also a part of the overall reason why they were there in the first place—to clean out the rot in Pegasus caused by Carlson and his ilk. It had been problematic so far but not impossible. They were taking all the right steps and definitely moved in the right direction.

Savage let his gaze soak in the view of New York that drew ever closer to him as they crossed the bridge. It was a fantastic city, one he hadn’t actually had the opportunity to spend any time in until now. One hell of a time to visit the place, but it was bound to happen eventually, right? He’d been all over the rest of the world, why not end up here?

His gaze flickered to two cars that pulled in behind them. Every city had its own individual kind of traffic and flows were unique to the various cities. Sometimes, even cities had different patterns between one section and another.

“I asked if you have a visual on us,” he repeated. Terry and Sam looked at him and followed his gaze to the two cars that maintained a steady pace. “Maybe camera access?”

“There are a couple of sedans following us,” he said. “Or…I think they’re following us. I feel like I’m in something of a paranoid state of mind. Two cars behind, same make and model, and keeping the same kind of distance. Do you think you can run the plates?”

“I’m already working on it,” she grumbled. “Yeah, they’re both rentals from the same agency and rented by the same people. That’s not uncommon, though. It’s a corporate rental, so it could basically be any corporation that has sent people into the city.”

Savage nodded, still unable to shake the feeling in the back of his mind. Maybe he was a little too paranoid in this case, but he’d learned to listen to this instinct. In the past, it had meant the difference between death and survival.

He nodded. It was all he could really expect from her at this point, but he reached surreptitiously over to the duffle bag on the seat beside him, unzipped it, and checked that the weapons inside were loaded and ready. He made sure they were easy to retrieve from the bag in an emergency. The shotgun, rifle, and pistol were ready for action, and he pulled the knife clear, slipped it into his right pocket, and checked to ensure that the clasp that kept his pistol in place was loosened too.

“I’m in a paranoid mood at the moment, so let’s leave it at that,” he responded loudly enough for the two of them to hear. He had learned to trust his instincts, but the fact remained that he hadn’t exactly been at the top of his game lately. His recovery had been slow, and he was barely out of the hospital, not to mention a little rattled over the recent events. He hated feeling like this. His job had always required him to be absolutely certain on his calls and to be able to act on them at a moment’s notice without any hesitation.

They left the bridge and proceeded into the city where the afternoon traffic wasn’t quite as heavy as it would be come rush hour. The two sedans still followed them, which didn’t help his feeling of suspicion. He faced his two teammates in the front of the car.

“There’s no harm in coming up with a game plan in case we are ambushed, right?” he asked, and neither of them voiced any complaints. “No offense, Terry, but Sam is the specialist behind the wheel and we’ll need you to cover any potential long-distance problems we might have to face. If something happens and we’re forced into a stop, you two change places. What do you guys have in terms of weapons?”

The man shrugged to indicate that if they were in a situation where someone took shots at them from a distance, there wouldn’t be much of a choice, now would there?

“Okay.” Savage looked around as they started to weave through the maze that was Manhattan. He didn’t know the layout of the city so he wouldn’t know a route to their base of operations that would avoid choke points where ambushes were more likely to happen.

Choke points…like the one they’d just driven into, he realized when he saw two SUVs blocking the other end of the narrow street they were on. Terry pulled the Beemer to a halt but it was too late. Both sedans drew in behind them to block the exit.

“Shit,” he muttered. Sam and Terry were already moving to unbuckle their seatbelts and scramble quickly across the narrow space between the seats. They had switched places in seconds, and Savage was ready with the rifle.

“It…was an impulse buy,” he replied and shook his head. That wasn’t important. Terry made a few hurried adjustments to make it somewhat useable before he flicked the safety off. His first order of business would be to make sure they didn’t have anyone shooting at them from above, which meant it was down to his teammates to cover them in the meantime.

The men disembarked from their cars, eight from the SUVs in front of them and six from the sedans behind. Savage removed the shotgun from the bag and handed it to Sam, who took it with a small, manic grin as the men unloaded assault rifles from their vehicles. They appeared to be in the mood to take their time and make sure they did this right. They looked like professionals and a formidable challenge.

He drew the pistol from his holster and the Glock from his bag before he twisted to look behind them. The trunk would have to give him enough cover from the lead that would rip through the car at any second.

Terry fired, aiming up at a nearby building, and everyone seemed to take that as a signal that they were ready for a fight. Savage left the Glock on the seat beside him and aimed the needle gun at the men near the sedans. He pulled the trigger to punch small but visible holes through the Beemer’s back window. Sam did the same, although she fired from the side window. Savage assumed it was because she didn’t want to damage the windshield too much in case an escape was still an option. They couldn’t move until Terry had made sure they weren’t at risk from above.

Savage could see flaws in his plan as he initiated a series of volleys as rapidly as his cutting-edge weapon could fire. It was effective enough, but it had taken the men coming from the sedans a few seconds to realize they were under fire. The problem came when one of their team dropped as the needles drilled easily through the body armor he wore and eliminated him in seconds.

The others opened fire from the rear, and he ducked quickly behind the back seat and covered his head as bullets erupted all around them. The idea had been, of course, to force the men attacking them to take cover in order to buy them some time. So much for that, he thought, picked the Glock up again, and pulled himself up to start shooting. His ears rang as the firefight continued with a vengeance. Sam had dropped into the driver’s seat to reload but the windshield started to show a variety of holes that forced her to slide down into the relative cover of the massive engine in front of them.

“We’re clear on top,” Terry shouted, spun, and opened fire at the men in ahead. His accuracy was on point, as always, and the head of one of the men popped like a melon. Sam, still under the cover of the engine, thrust hard on the accelerator and the vehicle lurched forward. If they had been covered from the top, all it would have taken was a shot to the engine with a high-powered rifle to disable it and leave them stranded. Of course, there would also have been the issue that they could pick the driver off whenever they decided to.

Now that they were clear and knowing there was no way to win the battle outright since they were in a bad position, outmanned, and outgunned, their only option was to get the hell out of there. Savage shifted to aim his weapons out the front. A couple of rounds impacted the trunk and he wondered when one of their attackers would manage to hit the tank.

“Anja, we need a way out of here as soon as you can,” he shouted. The concentrated firepower from the three was focused on the men in front of the SUVs and forced them to take cover, which brought a measure of relief to the defenders.

Sam raised the shotgun as they came in close to the SUVs but still pushed the Beemer as fast as it would go. They closed on the larger vehicles and she guided the smaller car to the back of the one on the left, powered hard into it, and spun it into a skid to move it far enough to allow them to escape.

There was a downside to this plan, Savage realized when all the airbags deployed at the same time and cut the engine immediately. He helped to clear the airbags in the front as she levered herself up to lean through the open window and fired the shotgun at the men who now gathered around to try to pick them off while they weren’t moving.

Cars like this—and most modern cars, really—were designed to cut all power to the engine as soon as an impact occurred, thanks to a fuel pump shut-off switch to avoid the nastiness that came with spilled fuel after the collision. While necessary for most accidents, it could be rather annoying in the event of an escape attempt.

Anja worked quickly and well and started the car almost immediately. Sam dropped into her seat and immediately careened through their newly opened exit line.

“I’ve set the GPS for an escape route and a location to stash the car,” the hacker said. “I’m keeping track of the police band too. There are notifications of shots fired in your area. The cops should be there in less than a minute.”

“I think we need to talk about what the fuck happened,” Sam snapped and scowled at Savage through the rearview mirror, which was miraculously still intact.

“Hell, if I know.” He shrugged and continued to glance back to check that they weren’t being followed. They weren’t, not immediately anyway. The other man took a moment to check their six as well before he settled into his seat and checked his rifle the way any good sniper would do after an engagement.

“This was planned,” Terry said as they pulled into a nearby underground garage that didn’t have any security in it and parked the bullet-riddled Beemer. “Someone was waiting for us to enter the city. Who?”

Savage shrugged again, hauled his duffle bag out, and slung it over his shoulder once he’d made sure the weapons were hidden. None of them appeared to be injured beyond a couple of scrapes from the glass. That was more luck than any of them had any right to at this point.