The Last Second (A Brit in the FBI #6)(100)

“I’d rather not split up. We have to keep moving. We’ll find the command center.”

They jogged down the hallway. Mike said, “I’ve counted seven dead guards. There must be more guards than this.”

“Agreed. Many more. They’ve taken cover someplace.”

They came to another split. There were two directions they could take at this point. Two completely identical, unknown paths.

Nicholas looked around for some sort of markings or directions, found nothing. He looked up at the ceiling. It was smooth white, with no breaks. But there was a slight seam in the panel above him.

“Hold on. What’s this? Can you give me a boost?”

Mike dropped to all fours and Nicholas stepped on her back, pushed on the ceiling with both hands. It gave a bit at the edge and he shoved harder, knocking a full section aside. It clattered to the floor, but still, even with the noise, there was still no gunfire from the guards.

He pulled Mike to her feet and made a stirrup from his hands. “I’m going to lift you up. Look at the rafters, tell me what you see.”

“What am I looking for?”

“Cables. Phone lines, telecom lines, anything cable oriented. Tell me which direction they go.”

She said, “Don’t get me shot,” and stepped into his hands. He lifted her easily and she stuck her head into the darkness. “Maglite.” He passed it to her, and she shined it in the darkness.

She saw steel rafters running the length of the building and tried to orient herself. They’d come from the observatory, which was definitely behind them. She played the light until she saw familiar cables. They were running away from her at a thirty-degree angle. She called down, “I got it, let me down.”

“Cables?”

“Tons of them. We need to head that way.” She pointed down the left-hand hall. “It’s leading straight from the observatory toward something, and the mess of cables are thick.”

“Good job. Let’s go.”

They started down the left-hand hallway, weapons up. Still, there was no return fire. Mike whispered, “It’s as if the guards have laid down their weapons and aren’t trying to defend this place anymore. Something’s wrong. Where did they go?”

“Maybe we tagged them all.”

“No way. Look.” She pointed out a few scattered blood droplets on the floor. “See the pattern? Elliptical drops—whoever we hit was on the run. But on the run to where?”

“I bet the guards have retreated to a certain section, probably the command center, and they’ll be setting up a final defense to keep us occupied until time runs out. Let’s keep moving.”

Three more steps, and a door flew open in front of them. It slammed into Mike’s shoulder, and she stumbled.

Kiera Byrne stepped into the hallway.

Nicholas started for her but she dodged expertly, jumping up into the air, and she grabbed hold of the top of the door and swung at him, kicking him as she went. The blow caught him in the chest and he spun to the ground, momentarily stunned.

Mike was back on her feet, her M4 at the ready, but Kiera kicked out from the door and landed right on top of her. Mike stumbled but stayed on her feet. Kiera tumbled gracefully to the floor. Mike’s M4 clattered to the floor behind Kiera. How had she managed to knock the gun from her shoulder and send it spinning away? She was fast, flexible, had the moves of a gymnast. Kiera whipped around and faced her. “Hey, little girl, who are you? You think you can hurt me? Think you can stop this? Come on, let’s play.” And she waggled her fingers at Mike.

Nicholas was back up but he couldn’t shoot, he couldn’t take the chance of hitting Mike.

Mike shouted, “Nicholas, go! Shut it down, I’ve got this crazy bitch!”

He was torn for a moment, but she screamed, “Go!” at him again and he took off running. Mike could handle herself. He had to stop this bomb.





CHAPTER SEVENTY


Mike and Kiera faced off. Kiera was taller, weighed more, and was probably as good at martial arts as Mike was at shooting. She was formidable. Still, no choice, Mike had to stop her. “You’re a hard woman to find, Kiera Byrne. Yeah, I wanna play. I’m the woman who’s going to kick your butt from here to eternity.”

Kiera laughed in her face. “Whoever you are, you’ve got a mouth. I like that. Now I’m going to slam your teeth down your throat. Okay, come on, let’s dance.”

Kiera launched herself at Mike with a cry, her hands a blur.

Mike absorbed the impact of the first hit with her forearm, the second with her shoulder, leaning into the punches instead of backing away. This surprised Kiera, who was used to people running away from her berserker charge. Her momentum carried her two feet past Mike. Mike whirled and kicked her in the hip on the way by. Kiera smacked into the wall, felt a sharp hit of pain.

Mike heard the crunch of bone, excellent. But which bone had she broken? She didn’t wait, threw another roundhouse kick, catching Kiera behind the knees.

But now Kiera was ready. She flipped over backward instead of falling, another acrobatic move, and landed lightly on the balls of her feet. She came again, arms a blur, punching, kicking, trying to catch Mike’s forearm and twist it, which would surely break it in two. Mike was faster, Kiera was bigger, but they were well matched. They brawled down the hallway, both landing hard punches and kicks but neither delivering the killing blow.