The Last Second (A Brit in the FBI #6)(101)

Mike’s knew time was running out. She had to end this. She pulled together everything she had, stepped into a punch, took it on the jaw, and managed to yank up with her elbow and she caught Kiera square in the nose, and shoved upward. She spun and delivered a left jab with a satisfying crunch followed by spurting blood. Kiera stumbled backward. Mike grabbed her Ka-Bar from its sheath.

Kiera swiped the blood away with her sleeve. “So you want to play with a knife now? My favorite weapon.” And Kiera grinned. The adrenaline was pumping so hard the break in her arm didn’t even hurt, at least not now, when it mattered. Kiera knew how to fight someone with a knife—either take it away or jam it inside of them. She attacked.

Mike was ready, held the knife’s thick hilt tight inside her fist, blade out, ready to punch and slice, a dangerous combination. The Ka-Bar dug into Kiera’s shoulder, but it didn’t seem to faze her. She slammed her fist into Mike’s head, twirled and hit her in the breastbone. Mike landed heavily on her back, and Kiera was above her, ready to jump down on her, teeth bared. Mike kicked up into Kiera’s face with both legs. She missed her face but hit her in the chest. A sharp zing went up her leg from her ankle—not again—and she knew she was in trouble. She could fight fine with two legs, but now she was going to have trouble standing.

She had to go for it. Mike slammed her head back into Kiera’s face, grabbed her hair, whipped her hand around her shoulder, and jerked her arm back toward herself as hard as she could. One single frozen moment—Mike plunged the knife deep into Kiera’s chest, shoved away from her.

Kiera collapsed backward, blood spurting from her chest, hot and thick. Wait, she moved. How?

Kiera suddenly flipped over, her weight taking Mike down. Mike landed on her back, and Kiera wrapped her hands around Mike’s throat. Squeezed, squeezed, squeezed, until Mike was seeing stars. No choice, she released her grip on the knife in Kiera’s chest and slammed her arms into Kiera’s once, twice, and finally, felt her grip begin to loosen. She kneed Kiera in the stomach and shoved her over her head, and managed to get out from under her and roll to her feet.

Kiera landed facefirst and stopped moving. Blood was everywhere, on the white tile, on the walls, on Mike. She saw the tip of her Ka-Bar visible through the other woman’s ribs, sticking out of her back.

It was over.

Mike tried to swallow, finally managed to roll over on hands and knees. She gagged a few times before she could breathe again. Blood was dripping from her mouth. Finally, she got to her feet, staggered a little, wiped her mouth on her sleeve. She ran her fingers over her teeth, all still in place. Good. But her ankle, did she break it this time? She tested it, put her weight on it, and wanted to scream as pain shot through her. She gritted her teeth. She’d deal with it later.

She stepped over Kiera and followed Nicholas’s path.

She could hear the wind start to pick up again outside.

No time, no time left.

Mike ran down the hall, dragging her foot, calling Nicholas’s name.





CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE


T-MINUS 6 MINUTES

Nicholas forced himself to stop before he turned into the last hallway. He used the reflection on the face of his phone to see around the corner. There were four guards grouped in front of a steel door with a biometric panel on its right side.

They were expecting a frontal assault. In front of them lay four men, two of them obviously dead, the other two moaning. He realized they’d expected to be inside the command center, but instead, there was now a steel door keeping them out. And they were stuck in the open with no cover.

Nicholas called, “Your mistress has left you to die. We have no desire to kill all of you, but we will if you fight back. We can handle this like gentlemen. Drop your weapons, put your hands on your heads, take your wounded men, and walk away. You have thirty seconds to comply before we start shooting down the hall. Trust me when I say I am an excellent shot, and I have two teams behind me.”

There was a murmur, then one of the men called back, “You are friends with Bernard?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Don’t shoot.”

He looked around the corner to see the four men, their hands on their heads.

Nicholas said, “Take your men. Leave. Now.”

The men grabbed the wounded soldiers and carried them out fireman style. They left their guns on the floor. He sent a thank-you prayer heavenward and ran to the biometric panel. Where was Mike? He couldn’t wait, no time. He had to get inside. He had a preprogrammed biometric reader in the pocket of his vest that would override the palm prints approved to open this door and put his in place. He inserted the micro thumb drive into the reader. Moments later, the image of a palm appeared on the glass, and as he watched, it morphed into the outline of his own hand. He slapped his hand into place and the steel door unlocked, opened smoothly.

He rolled onto the floor in a ball, expecting a barrage of gunfire, but there was nothing, only the quiet whirring of computers and gears. He slammed against a console.

Where was Nevaeh Patel? He’d expected her to be here, but the room was empty.

He stared at the computers. They were as high-end as any he’d seen. Liquid plasma screens crowded together on the walls, giving several different views. The command center was offset so the programmer could move from table to table. One side was organized, clean and sharp, the other was reminiscent of the interiors of the International Space Station he’d seen in photographs and interviews, cords and panels set up haphazardly, papers everywhere, all the screens showing different programs running.