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“You’ll see.”
For the next few minutes we scramble to load up the van. Like the one we used for the attack on Anton’s men at Vinegar Hill, it boasts a shielded, remote-aimed machine gun turret ready to fire on our attackers — this one deploys up through the roof, rather than out the side. The van’s so heavily armored, bullets will bounce off. Even most missiles will have a hard time penetrating the inches-thick steel sheets protecting us — assuming they can even score a hit. Additionally, the engine can put out enough horsepower to outrace a tank, despite the heavy load.
“Intercept in two minutes!” Baptiste announces. “Missiles ready!”
“Time to go!” I shout.
Eyal drives the van, easing it a safe distance from the barn. Stanislaw and Henrik take the Cadillac and follow the van. We take out sets of earmuffs for everyone; even from inside the van, this is going to be loud.
“Kate!” I yell, loading up an app on my phone. “Brace yourself!”
I hit the Detonate icon, and the barn behind us explodes. In a few minutes, any evidence left behind as to who was there and what we were doing will be incinerated. If they were hoping to find Kate’s body, they’ll be in for a disappointment. They won’t even find pieces of her implants.
Of course, creating a giant fireball and a plume of smoke visible for miles may as well tell Anton, Here we are, come and get us! But he already has our location anyway. Now he’s going to get a reminder of what happens when you fuck with Death.
“Attack helicopters!” Eyal shouts. “Twelve o’clock!”
Those must have cost Anton several million apiece. This is going to hurt.
The machine gun has a simple joystick controller connected to a tablet — I never played video games growing up, but this is as close as one gets to playing one in real life. A camera attached to the gun lets me see the incoming choppers, which are easy to make out against the gray skies. They’re out of range yet for the guns, though I could fire missiles at them. I’d rather save that surprise for now. They’re closing in for the attack; let’s see what they’ve got.
Anton’s men take the first shot: a missile of their own, headed directly for us.
“Prepare for evasive maneuvers!” Eyal shouts.
I glance at Kate; she’s strapped in properly. I hope she’s ready for a bumpy ride.
Eyal turns the van sharply at the last second, busting through a short wooden fence and into a field, causing the missile to blast the road behind us. Kate and I get tossed into our harnesses, but we stay put. Clods of dirt fall everywhere, but the van’s undamaged — and now the first chopper’s in range of the guns.
I hit the switch to open the turret doors and raise the gun into position. The helicopter banks to the side, but it can’t turn on a dime the way a car can. I fire the guns, releasing a torrent of hot lead that smacks into the aircraft. Its engines catch on fire and the chopper enters a tailspin, falling to the ground slowly at first, but then dropping like a stone.
“One down,” I mutter.
The second helicopter quickly evades to get out of range of the gun.
“Reports are coming in about the barn,” says Kate. “Police, EMS and fire are on the way.”
“Thanks. Keep listening!”
“Cars, up ahead!” says Eyal.
I train the machine gun forward in time to see the lead vehicle swerve to a stop, blocking the road. The driver gets out, using the door for protection. He trains his assault rifle on the van and opens fire.
“Brace for impact!” Eyal shouts.
Seeing that we’re not stopping, the mercenary scrambles away, just in time to avoid being crushed as our van glances past his car, tearing off its open door in the process. However, he doesn’t avoid Henrik and Stanislaw behind us in the Cadillac.
We can barely hear the gunshots inside the van, but then Stan says over the radio, “Got him.”
A clap of thunder bursts above us and a flash of lightning blacks out our monitors for a moment.
Eyal finds the road and floors the gas, forcing two of Anton’s cars to swerve off the road. I swing around the machine gun and spray both cars, aiming low to the ground to pop the tires. They burst as bullets rip apart the vehicles’ underbellies.
A squall of rain patters against the ceiling as another crack of thunder booms overhead.
“Missile incoming!” Eyal screams. “It’s gonna hit our side! Brace!”
I take Kate’s hand and squeeze. Then a fist slams into the van’s left side, lifting us onto two wheels for a protracted second but failing to pierce our armor. Kate grips my hand until we slam back down to the ground. Eyal corrects for the turn and steers us back on the road once more.
