Page 80 of Exit Strategy
My fist clenched and I heard the faint complaint of the metal and plastic in the phone case.
“Is that so,” I said.
“It is indeed, and two pieces of good news, we’ve located, what did you call her,Cardinal, and you get to remain in New Eden’s good graces.”
“I consider myself blessed,” I said through gritted teeth.
“And don’t bother trying to contact your friend Mackenzie. She is no longer working in tech and communication, but you’ll be able to see her if this works out for you. She’s already accepted her lateral move.”
“What did you do with her?” I asked, louder than I intended.
“Temper, temper, Oberisk. Housekeeping. Don’t worry, you’ll have overlap with housekeeping, but you won’t actually be violating anyone’s private quarters with your presence. Groundskeeping, if you were curious.”
“Goddamn you, Soren,” I said, but instead of defiant I felt defeated. That fucking asshole.
“You need to be in position in about an hour. I’ll send the coordinates in a secure text. Don’t be late.”
“An hour?”
“An hour. Sigma Team is already on the ground. They took Rex’s G700 and might have set a record for LAX to BWI. Now, move your dump truck of an ass and get into position, or start considering what you’re going to do with a pink slip and a blacklisting.”
Clicking end on a call was never going to be as satisfying as slamming a phone down on the receiver; there was no cathartic violence to the disconnect. That was just fucking frustrating as hell. Soren had pulled an end run on me, and Sigma was already on the ground and well ahead of us. “C’mon, we’ve got an addy on the other side of the bay, and we need to be there in less than an hour.”
“There’s no way,” Lisa said from the driver’s seat of REX3. She gestured to the GPS screen. The distance was certainly far enough, but the traffic we had to get through, and then crossing the Chesapeake Bay Bridge… We couldn’t make that. As heavy and slow as REX3 was, it would be a struggle to meet that deadline with zero traffic and closed roads, and a fucking police escort.
“Doesn’t matter. Sigma Team is on the ground and will be moving on target in an hour, and we’re their backup.” I let out a breath, and my stomach felt tensed and wadded into knots. This was going to cost me everything. I was going to be unemployed, homeless, and blacklisted in less than twenty-four hours. It was a shit trade, but what was the alternative? Leave Sigma to handle Kurt and whatever he had planned? What if Calanthe was harmed?
What if Sigma failed?
Kurt was a decorated former Royal Marine, and had spent years in the Afghan highlands. This could very easily turn into a bad fanfic ofRambo, but it would be a bunch of guys and few women who believed in a green and pure earth, trying to rescue as close to a princess as there was in America from a British commando.
This was going to be bad for them; no one on Sigma had military experience. They were paramilitary cosplayers with connections inside New Eden.
Fuck.
If we got there in time, we might be able to pull some of them aboard the RV and evac. Maybe my team and I might be what it took to turn the tide and ensure that Calanthe was rescued.
Lisa put the hammer down and all the green lights on the dash of the RV went out, and the crimson lights started blinking. We weren’t running in economy mode, or fuel-efficient mode. The RV’s electric motors were driving one axle, and the big diesel engine wasn’t idling to power the batteries, it was pumping raw power to the rear axles. The big beast rolled down the interstate quickly, and Lisa white-knuckle drove it like a demolition derby-ace.
* * *
We crossedthe Bay Bridge with nine minutes left.
By the time we reached the edge of the park, we were fifteen minutes late.
When we found Sigma Team’s trio of rented black SUVs, we were almost an hour late. I wasn’t prepared for what I found. I expected a jubilant Sigma Team, and Soren’s mocking phone call that I was shitcanned, not even good enough to take out New Eden’s trash and mow its grass with a reel mower.
I found just the three vehicles, no sign of the ten people in Sigma.
I flipped through my contact info, none of their phones connected, everything went straight to voicemail. That was a bad fucking sign. I called Soren, and there was no answer there either. The fuck was going on?
“So, here’s the plan,” I said, addressing the rest of my team. “We have a single Royal Marine, one hostage, and ten missing members of Sigma.”
“There are only four of us,” Cullen said. “If he was able to take out Sigma, I don’t think the three of us, and Lisa will be able to do anything but end up as notches on his belt.”
“He’s got a point,” Lisa said, the look on her face showing that she had no interest in being a notch on anyone’s belt.
“We’re going, and that’s it,” I said. “We don’t quit until Calanthe is safe.”
