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“Okay, that chopper’s gotta go. Missile locked — fire!”
A single rocket blasts out of the mounted launcher on the roof and soars toward the chopper. The missile is so small, there’s no way to see it coming — no time to evade or bail out.
The missile impacts the fuselage, detonating and tearing a chunk out of the chopper. It goes down, belching flames.
“The police are getting calls about the first helicopter,” says Kate. “They’re responding, and they’re escalating the call as a potential Anarchy, Inc. attack. Ingram, how are we going to get out of this? Everyone’s going to be after us!”
“Satellites won’t be able to see us through the storm clouds,” I reply. “We’ll be fine, as long as we get away clean.”
Four black SUVs roar in from the side roads, chewing through the fields alongside the road to close in. I fire the machine gun, taking out one of them, but the other three zoom in alongside the van.
“We need assistance!” says Henrik over the radio, the sound of gunfire in the background.
“I can’t hit them at short range!” I growl, getting up from my turret controls. Grabbing two M16s from the wall, I pass one to Kate. “When I say so, point this out the back and fire, okay? Hold on tight, it’s got a lot of power.”
Kate takes the rifle and nods.
I strap myself back in, then hit the control for the van’s back door, which rolls up into the ceiling, exposing the rear of the vehicle.
“Henrik, now!” I shout.
He slams the brakes, leaving the two attackers on our tail.
“Kate, shoot the one on the right!”
She obeys; I fire at the left car. Together, we pour bullets into their hoods and windshields, forcing the two cars to peel off their pursuit. I shut the door behind us, then get back to the targeting system.
“Missiles away!”
Two rockets speed off toward Anton’s cars, finishing them off.
“Stan, can you get the last one?” I ask.
“Of course.”
A chatter of gunfire thunders from outside, followed by the screech of tires.
“Thank you,” I say, grinning.
“Drones show the remaining vehicles have stopped,” Baptiste reports. “They’re giving up the pursuit.”
“It would be suicide,” says Eyal. “They’re not being paid to die.”
I look at Kate and give her a smile. She still points the M16.
“You can put that down, pet,” I say, pointing to the machine gun. “Everyone, good work. Eyal, drop the outer armor layer.”
“Why would you do that?” Kate asks as two loud pops indicate the plates have separated.
“The inner layer has been painted with the name Wilson and Son Professional Movers. We should blend in. Plus, we won’t be as heavy so we’ll move faster.”
She nods, smiling.
“Okay, so where are we going?”
“Upstate New York, to our compound. What’s on the police scanner?”
Kate listens for a while, then says, “Air traffic over the area has been redirected. They’re investigating the cars and downed helicopters, but they’re not quite sure what they’re looking for.”
