The Finish Line. Cliff Ryder
hours,” he said.
M-Four spoke up from the console, shoving earphones off his head. “The bobbies are cordoning off Wyvil Road at both ends, and expanding their net to include the surrounding blocks. Due to reports of explosions in the house, a bomb squad is being called in. Looks like we got out just in time.”
“Good. The more time they spend there, the less time they have to look for us.” M-One glanced both ways as they sped toward a busy intersection. “We’re coming up to Clapham, folks, so hang on—this next bit’s liable to get bumpy.”
David had shrugged off the team medic’s attentions and sat up just in time to see them roar into the intersection. Still hard on the SUV’s tail, the van shot out into the main thoroughfare, forcing cars to screech to a stop on both sides of them and attracting much more attention than anyone inside was comfortable with.
“Damn it, we’ve got company,” Tara said.
David looked out the one-way rear window to see a motorcycle officer hit his lights and siren and give chase.
“Can’t be helped now. If we’re blocked for any reason, you all know what to do,” M-One said.
Since Midnight Teams were brought in only as a final resort for specific missions, they weren’t supposed to attract attention in any way, even in what would nominally be a friendly country. If they were stranded, their orders were to escape and evade capture by any means necessary, up to and including deadly force. David grimaced as he realized what this chase meant—the longer it went on, the higher the risk of their being caught, and that simply couldn’t happen. And if I hadn’t gone racing into it, we might have kept this more low profile—the way we’re supposed to operate, he admonished himself.
“Looks like we’ve got them.” M-One alternated between keeping an eye on the SUV and watching the motorcycle officer slowly gain behind them. “The traffic on Clapham is slower than usual—must be something blocking the road ahead.”
The van slowed just enough to keep ahead of the patrolman. M-Four looked up from the radio console, headphones half on his head. “If we don’t do something soon, he’s gonna call in reinforcements, assuming he hasn’t already.”
The van’s speed decreased further. “As long as it’s not the Specialist Crime Directorate, we should be all right. If the SCD shows up, we disappear. Almost there…brace yourselves!” M-One slammed on the van’s brakes, making it skid to a stop. The pursuing motorcyclist, caught off guard, was unable to stop in time and slammed into the van’s rear door hard enough to send the rider sailing over the handlebars and thump into the door himself. He fell to the street, his bike toppling on top of him.
“Damn, that had to hurt.” David turned his attention forward again, where M-One was issuing orders. Ahead, he saw a large truck that had apparently jackknifed in the road, blocking both lanes of traffic on their side, and slowing the cars and motorbikes going in the opposite direction. Although yellow-vested officers were directing traffic, it seemed that they hadn’t been told about or noticed the slow-speed chase was approaching them.
“All right, we’re coming to a stop. On my command, Team Two will exit the side door and approach the SUV, pistols out but covered. Try to take them alive if possible, but defend yourselves and the civilians. Okay, here we go—”
With a screech of rubber, the SUV suddenly lurched out of its lane, wheels spinning for purchase as it rose onto the sidewalk, clipping a light post and scattering sparse passersby in all directions.
“Son of a bitch!” M-One shouted.
The Range Rover barreled completely off the road and into Kennington Park, tearing up grass and dirt. M-One followed, edging onto the sidewalk and into the park, ignoring the whistle blasts of the London bobbies, who had definitely noticed this unusual activity.
With a wide-open space, the SUV opened up and accelerated away from the van, but M-One tried to stay with it as much as possible. A man leaned out of the SUV passenger’s window again and pointed a submachine gun at the pursuing van. M-One jinked the steering wheel back and forth, trying to break up their silhouette to present less of a target. Short bursts sprayed from the submachine gun, the slugs pinging against the van’s bullet-resistant glass and shattering one headlight.
“Everyone hold on!” M-One floored the accelerator, and the van sped forward, close enough to almost tap the bumper of the Range Rover. Suddenly the SUV swerved to the right and decelerated, causing the van to pull alongside. The driver slammed his vehicle into the van, making the higher-center-of-gravity vehicle slew to the side, with everyone aboard swaying and grabbing at the sides to keep their seats.
“Damn it, we’re in a clear area—can’t we take them out?” M-Four asked.
“In case you hadn’t noticed, that’s exactly what I’ve been trying to do, but they got the idea first.” M-One had wrestled the van back under control, narrowly avoiding a tree as they raced through the darkened park. Fortunately there was hardly anyone out at this time of night, just a few couples who gave the fast-moving vehicles a wide berth.
“If you’re gonna do something, now’s the time, before they get back on the roads!” David said.
“I’m open to suggestions.” M-One grunted as he tried to catch up with their target again. “We’re not fast enough to catch them, and trying to spin them only resulted in our nose getting slapped.”
David shook his head. “Can’t shoot them down, either. That windshield shrugged off my .45s like nothing. Tires are probably run-flat, too.”
“We’re running out of space and time, people.” M-One swerved to avoid another of the many trees dotting the park, his night vision glowing green in the darkness. The small dot of light reflecting off the windshield gave David an idea.
“Are they running lights out, too?”
“Yeah.” Tara glanced back. “What’re you thinking?”
David grabbed a minigrenade, matched it with a barrel adapter and inserted it into the muzzle of his gun. “If we can’t bull them over with brute force, we can dazzle them with brilliance.” Staying on his knees, he moved to the van’s sliding side door. “Stabilize me.”
M-Five’s eyes widened in recognition as he grasped what David was up to, and he grabbed his teammate’s web harness to secure him.
“Open the door, M-One.”
The night air rushed in as the side door slowly rolled back. “You’re clear ahead, but you’ve only got a hundred meters—don’t hit anything but the ground,” M-One said.
“Affirmative.” David reset the grenade’s fuse and eyeballed the range between the two rocking, swaying vehicles as best as he could. The fence delineating the outer perimeter of the park rushed at them. “Fire in the hole!” Squeezing the trigger, he watched the explosive arc over the SUV and disappear into the darkness. It came down almost where he wanted—a few yards in front of the speeding Range Rover. At the last second, David shielded his eyes and turned away.
Even so, he caught the flash of the detonating flare grenade, its burst of brilliant phosphorus lighting up the open area like a miniwhite sun. David stared at the ground near the SUV, hearing its engine whine and feeling dirt spatter on his arms and chest as their quarry spun out of control, crossing in front of the Midnight Team’s van. With a loud crash, they caromed off a large tree and into a small wood-sided building that looked as if it might hold groundskeeping equipment. The SUV broke through the front wall in a splintering crash of wood and glass, coming to a halt wedged firmly in the middle of the structure.
M-One braked the van to a stop about twenty yards away. “Team One, take the right. Team Two go left.” He grabbed his XM110 and slid out the driver’s-side window. “I’ll cover. Move out—you’ve got twenty seconds to apprehend them.”
The four other Midnight Team members hit the ground running, submachine guns out and ready. David and Tara used the century-old trees as cover, leapfrogging