No Fortunate Son Read online

  She reached the target and slowed. She peeked inside, then planted her feet onto the rough brick, leaning close, arms above her head grasping the outcropping.

  Over the radio, I said, “Blood, Retro, status?”

  “Good out here. We can walk right in. No issues.”

  “Stand by. Koko’s got something.”

  I saw her peer inside, twisting her body to get closer. She came on the radio.

  “Pike, through the bathroom I can get a corner of the den. There are two hostages on the floor. Hooded. I can see their heads.”

  80

  Her radio transmission echoed in my brain, illuminating the possibilities.

  Two? That means . . . Kylie’s here.

  I said, “You sure? No trap?”

  She said nothing for a moment, then, “I just saw someone walk by the door. A black man. He has a pistol. There’s another black man further in. The hostages are moving on the floor. They’re alive.”

  I said, “Break, break. Blood, Retro, back to the vehicle. Koko, hold what you got.”

  I started sprinting, reaching the van at the same time as my teammates. We entered and I slid the door closed, saying, “We’re going in. Right now. Brett, you lead. Retro, you’re behind me. Nung, you bring up trail. Pull security once we’re in. Lock down the hallway.”

  Nung nodded, as bored as ever.

  I said, “Sir, status on the men in the room?”

  Blaine knew what I was asking. He said, “Hostile force ROE.”

  Which meant we could kill them whether they posed a direct threat or not. I said, “Roger that,” and Blaine started screwing a suppressor to his Glock.

  I said, “What are you doing?”

  “Don’t start, Pike. I’m coming.” He pointed at the two communications guys we’d been dragging along. “They can handle the radio.”

  They both had wide eyes, sitting behind a makeshift console of computers and SATCOM antennae. Not wanting to leave the safety of the van for anything.

  I thought about my numbers and said, “Okay. But my show. You come in behind me.”

  He grinned and said, “No issues.”

  I said, “Blood, you got radar scope. Retro, you got bump key. You open, and we flow in. Blaine, you come in last.”

  I got a thumbs-up from all and said, “We need to do this silently. Don’t let them get off a round. We don’t know where this is going.” They nodded and I said, “Pure violence. Kill anyone not wearing a hood.”

  We slid out of the van, and I called, “Koko, moving now. Anything?”

  “No. Same story.”

  Leading the way, Brett threaded down the hallway between the stores and entered the apartment area. We reached a row of mailboxes, and he veered to the stairs on the right side. We took them two at a time, reaching the third floor in seconds.

  I alerted Jennifer. “At last covered and concealed. About to make breach.”

  “Roger. The black man is slapping one of the hostages through his hood, shouting something.”

  “On the way.”

  We raced down the hallway, me taking the far side of the door, Retro on the near side. Brett placed a radar scope against the wall next to the door and studied it. He turned and held out his hand. Five.

  With the two hostages, that left three to deal with.

  I nodded at Retro and rotated out, facing the door at an angle and putting my barrel in play. He jammed a baseball-size device with a universal key into the doorknob, then looked at me. I nodded, and he hit the switch.

  The mechanized bump key seemed to rattle enormously loud, sounding like fingernails scraping on a chalkboard. He jerked it out, turned the knob, and flung the door open, allowing a world of hurt to flow into the room.

  I cleared the funnel of death, turning right and seeing a tall, skinny man with a pistol. I cracked a double-tap and saw his head snap back. I rotated left before his body had even hit the floor and saw another man standing in shock, a weapon held limply in his hands, not even raising it. His head exploded from someone’s round and I raced to the bedroom, holding up until I felt a body behind me. I exploded in, seeing a fat man with an open mouth jamming his hands in the air. My finger dragged the trigger to the rear.

  I halted.

  By the rules of engagement he could be killed outright, but ROE was nothing but a piece of paper. It wouldn’t help me sleep at night.

  I closed the distance to him and hammered his temple with the butt of my pistol, dropping him in his tracks.

  I turned back out and ran to the final room, sweeping my weapon left and right. Before I could enter, Retro came out, saying, “Clear.”

  I went to the bathroom, Brett right behind me. It was empty. I opened the window, helping Jennifer get inside, me holding her waist and Brett dragging in her legs. Halfway in, Blaine called out, “Got them. But it’s not our guys. This thing is bigger than we thought.”

  What the hell is he talking about?

  Still pulling Jennifer, I said, “No Nick? No Kylie?”

  “No. A couple of Irishmen. They’re saying they were kidnapped.”

  Jennifer fell into the bathroom and I felt the failure hit me. I sat on the toilet, disgusted.

  We should have never gotten on that plane.

  Jennifer stood up, brushed herself off, and said, “What’s the status? Is it Kylie?”

  I said, “No,” and began moving lethargically to the den. I saw two men on the floor, still bound. Both looking extremely grateful.

  Blaine said, “I don’t know what to do about this. They aren’t Americans. Not a Taskforce problem.”

  I looked at the one on the right, and saw a tattoo of a harp below his ear. Something I’d seen before, when a man walked away from me in a bar in Cork City.

  The rage blossomed and I stalked over to him, slapping him full in the face and knocking him to the ground. Blaine stood up, shouting, “Pike! What are you doing?”

  I jammed my pistol into his neck and said, “Seamus McKee. We finally meet. You have ten seconds to tell me what I want to know, or I’ll slaughter you just like your friends here.”

  Seamus looked at me like I was crazy and said, “What are you talking about? I’ve been kidnapped!” He turned to Blaine and said, “Get him off me! I’m the hostage, damn it. I’ve done nothing wrong.”

  The man to the left grew rigid at my mentioning Seamus’s name, the truth evident on his face. I tossed Seamus to the floor and held my pistol in front of the nose of the other “hostage.”

  “I only need one, you fuck. And Seamus is the winner. You’re collateral damage. Five . . . four . . . three . . . two . . .”

  Blaine jumped up, shouting, “Pike, stop it, right now!”

  The man screamed, “He’s in the car! In the trunk! Downstairs.”

  I leaned back and exhaled. Blaine flicked his head between the two men, unsure of what to do. I said, “Blood, Retro, go get him. The car is in the alley. Jennifer and I saw it on the way to the rear.”

  They left, Blaine going with them, and I sat down, waiting, my barrel aimed at Seamus’s head. I said, “Search that piece of shit.”

  Nung rolled him onto his belly, expertly going through every nook and cranny. He emptied his pockets, throwing keys and a wallet to the floor. He found a piece of paper and studied it. He held it up to me.

  “Can I take this?”

  I looked at it, a small computer printout that he unfolded like some origami thing. I said, “What is it?”

  “Payment.”

  I had no idea what it was, but if that was enough to clear me with Nung, I had no issues with it. “Yeah. It’s yours.”

  He nodded, tucking the paper into his pocket. As calm as ever.

  I returned to Seamus. “Where is Kylie?”

  He glared at me, remaining quiet.

  I stood
up, towering over him. Jennifer saw my anger and stepped between us. She said, “Don’t do it. Killing him won’t get her back.”

  At that moment, I realized she thought Kylie was dead. Gone. I said, “Jennifer, she’s coming home. She is.”

  Jennifer nodded, saying nothing.

  I leaned down and said, “You have until they return to tell me where she is. When I hear the footsteps outside, I’ll fucking kill you.”

  “She’s in the trunk! Damn it, that’s who they’re getting. Let them get back.”

  I whipped the barrel of my Glock, ripping open his cheek and slamming his head into the floor.

  I said, “Bullshit. Dickless here just said ‘he’s downstairs.’ No plural. I know who they’re going to find, and she’s not in that package. Where is she?”

  The other man said, “We don’t have her! Don’t kill us! It’s not our fault!”

  I heard the words and felt the rage grow. A blackness that I knew all too well. Seamus glared at me, his anger attempting to compete with my own. But there was no contest.

  Jennifer saw the change and said, “Pike . . . don’t . . .”

  I leaned into Seamus’s face and said, “You have one chance to save yourself. And I don’t mean stay out of jail. You call yourself a soldier, but you have no knowledge of the true fight. I have seen what people like you do to captured soldiers. Flayed alive, screaming for mercy. I’ve seen the videos. And I’m about to do the same to you.”

  I saw his face falter, realizing there was something evil in the room. I pulled out my folding blade, the edge razor-sharp. I slid it across his arm, causing the blood to flow.

  “I will carve you up, piece by piece. My daughter will enjoy every minute of it as payback.”

  The words came unbidden, but they hit Seamus and his partner like a sledgehammer. They were convinced I was unhinged. And maybe I was.

  Seamus blurted out, “I know where she is. I separated them on purpose. She’s still in Ireland. I can get her back. I can give her to you.”

  I said, “Where?”

  “I have to call them. Get them to bring her to me. I don’t know where they are right now. But I can bring her to you.”

  “Call them. Do it. She dies, and you do too.”

  Nung came out of the bedroom. “Pike, you need to see this.”

  Aggravated, I said, “What?”

  “The dead guy on the floor has a stopwatch going. A timer. It’s got thirty minutes left, give or take. Inside the bedroom are pictures and attack planning.”

  “For what?”

  “For the Eye of London. They’re planning on bringing it down.”

  81

  Emily Botswanger danced in the line, weaving in and out of the ribbon barriers that were supposed to keep her in check and ignoring her mother’s stern warnings about behaving. At eight years old, she could be forgiven for her exuberance. Especially since she’d spent the last three days on a “holiday” that consisted of her parents dragging her all over England seeing a bunch of musty old things that meant as much to her as a dead mole on her doorstep. At least then she knew her tabby had done the deed, and while yucky, it was new. Why her parents thought she’d care about someone’s death a hundred years ago was beyond her.

  The Tower of London, the royal Palace, the Wartime Bunker, it was one boring thing after another, but they were finally doing something she would enjoy. Riding the Eye.

  Her mother admonished her again, saying they wouldn’t go forward if she didn’t behave. She calmed down. Enough to give her parents the leeway to continue. They advanced forward in the line, seeing the capsules being filled one after the other in a relentless march.

  She said, “How fast does it go? Will we feel like we’re on a roller coaster?”

  Her mother smiled and said, “No. It’s slow. Like an escalator. Not like a roller coaster.”

  Disappointed, Emily said, “Can they make it speed up? If we ask?”

  Her mother ushered her to the platform, lining up into the queue for the next capsule. She said, “We don’t want it to speed up. That would be dangerous.”

  Their car appeared, rolling inexorably forward, and they stutter-stepped to get in. Emily said, “I don’t mind danger. I like excitement.”

  * * *

  Blaine returned, a huge grin on his face, and I knew we’d saved the day. At least his and the president’s. My teammates came through as well, smiling and carrying in Nicholas Seacrest, groggy and drugged, but alive.

  So we had won. As far as the US government was concerned. I would have cheered, but we were still missing Kylie. And we now had a new threat. They were buoyant in our success, but I was about to pop that bubble.

  Blaine saw my face and said, “What? What happened?”

  I pointed to Seamus and said, “He can give us Kylie.”

  His face scrunched up in confusion. “Kylie? Who is that?”

  “She’s the reason I’m here. Kurt’s niece.” I pointed at Nick Seacrest and said, “Honestly, I don’t care about him. I’m glad we got him, but I want Kylie. They were tied together, and now they aren’t.”

  Wondering why his huge victory wasn’t being shared, Blaine said, “Okay, so we go get her next. These guys will know where she is. Right?”

  I said, “Yeah. They do. But there’s another problem.”

  I told him what I knew, Nung bringing out photos and schematic drawings delineating explosive charges and resulting effects.

  He said, “This is going down right now? In the next hour?”

  “Yes. But I don’t give a shit. I’m going to Ireland to get Kylie. You can sort this out.”

  He looked at me in confusion. I stood up, saying, “I’m taking Seamus. And your van.”

  Seamus rolled back, clearly not wanting to be with me. Jennifer rose and said, “Pike, we can’t do that.”

  I said, “Bullshit we can’t. Kylie isn’t going to die.”

  Nung, of all people, said, “They’re going to drop the Eye. Kill over eight hundred civilians. I do not care, but I thought it would be prudent to show the tradeoff.”

  And there it was. The dilemma this entire chase had been about. Now exposed. How much was one life worth? How many could be sacrificed to save the one?

  I looked at Jennifer, wanting guidance. She didn’t turn from my glare, holding my eyes. I saw the truth to my question. I saw her answer. And the pain.

  I said, “What the hell can we do anyway? Call them. Tell them to stop the tour. Get them out.”

  Pulling up the Eye website on his phone, Retro said, “We have thirty minutes. That’s one revolution of the wheel. Even if we got them to stop loading, a ton of people will die. And that’s given we could penetrate the fog. Get through to someone with the power to stop it right this second.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut, seeing Kylie from parties in the past. A teenager, full of vitality and youth. Now going to die by my decision. I gave a silent prayer to her, begging forgiveness.

  “Okay. Let’s go.”

  Looking like he’d rather be anywhere else but in the room, Blaine said, “Pike, I have to get Seacrest out of here. I can’t let you take the team. I have the vice president’s son. He’s the precious cargo, and I have to get him out. You can have the sedan, but the van stays here.”

  I gave him a look of disgust and said, “Fine. Me, Nung, and Jennifer. Keeps it clean anyway. And I don’t need the sedan. The Tube will be faster. The rest of you fucks can bask in the glory of saving mister high-and-mighty.”

  Brett said, “I’m coming with you.” Retro followed with “No doubt. I’m not riding this in the rear.”

  I said, “Blaine’s right. Get Seacrest out of here. Numbers don’t matter now. You’ll be no help.”

  Blaine nodded, relieved, and said, “I’ll start the chain right now. Get them to stop loading and tell them what we have.
Get them ready to receive you.”

  I said, “That’s a wasted call. We’ll be there in minutes, before you can get anyone to start moving. I’ll do it myself. They’ll shut down operations when we arrive waving guns around.”

  He nodded, saying, “I know, but it’ll help with the cleanup.”

  “I could give a shit about that. I care about Kylie. You start looking. Find out what you can from Seamus, and don’t be nice. When this is over, you better help me locate her.”

  He said, “I will. No matter what the Oversight Council says.”

  82

  Jennifer followed behind Pike, leaving the apartment in a hurry. He hit the street, running to the Edgware Tube station.

  Getting into the subway, they took a seat in the rear, Jennifer pulling out the photos of the attack plan and glancing around to make sure they were clear of nosy neighbors.

  She said, “It looks like they intend to cut the cables. Up near the hub.”

  Pike pulled a picture from her hand and studied it, saying nothing.

  Jennifer said, “How can we stop it? There’s no way to get anyone up there in time. Somebody needs to get to the hub immediately, and we won’t be able to convince anyone to let us in.”

  The train pulled through the stations, and he said, “I know. It’s you.”

  She felt a touch of panic and said, “Pike, I can’t do that. We need to get someone official. Someone to stop the wheel.”

  “You already gave that answer. No time. You climb better than a monkey. You’ve seen the schematics. You know where to go. Get up there and stop it.”

  “How the hell am I going to do that? They won’t let me just walk in.”

  Sitting beside them as if he were a Buddha statue, Nung said, “That is what you’re paying me for. I will get you in. All you have to do is climb.”

  Pike grinned at the words and said, “Yeah, you damn coward.”

  She sat back, and the subway rolled on. They arrived at Waterloo station, and Nung said, “This is us.”

  They exited, sprinting up the stairs. Getting to the top, they saw the Eye in the distance, on a square of land full of musicians and street performers.