freedom to act while others were slowed by politics, egos and laws.
As Deep Blue, Duncan had initially served the team as their satellite eyes in the sky, providing intelligence through his extensive use of computers and communications equipment. Aleman could cover some of those duties from New Hampshire now, but Duncan still needed to be as connected as possible. He wore a black tactical suit and donned what looked like a futuristic motorcycle helmet with a tinted faceplate. He connected its cable to a small rectangular unit on his shoulder, and the faceplate’s display came alive inside the helmet. The same display from the computer monitor on the Black Hawk was now on one-half of the inside of his faceplate.
A new technology from a small Korean firm, he had managed to get his hands on an experimental prototype of the helmet. With satellite uplink, he was able to be in communication with Endgame at the base in New Hampshire, as well as with the helicopter pilot. He also had access to all manner of computing power, which ran off servers deep underground at Endgame HQ. He could even tap into the Pentagon from the small keypad on his left forearm if need be. Deep Blue was now officially mobile.
As he stood from his chair in the tight confines of the Black Hawk’s hold, preparing to gather his weapons, a buzzing ringtone sounded in his ear. He depressed a button on his forearm keypad and accepted the call.
“Ale, what is it? I’m about to go.”
“Deep Blue is going to want to take this call. I’m patching it over from Bragg for you.” Lewis Aleman sounded amused. Duncan couldn’t think of a single reason for that as he took the call.
“This is Deep Blue. Go ahead.”
“Hey Boss. Rook here.”
Duncan was stunned. Rook had been missing for months, and they had received no contact from him. Duncan wasn’t even sure whether Rook was alive after his last mission in Siberia had gone south and all the support members had been killed. “Rook! Where the hell are you? Are you all right?”
“Well, I’m alive. I’m at a small town in Norway called Fenris Kystby.”
Deep Blue had two lists with Rook’s name on it. The first was a list of questions. The second was a list of harsh language to use in the event that Rook turned up alive. But there wasn’t time to berate the man for going AWOL. “We could really use you right now.”
“Actually, I’m kind of up to my neck in something here and was hoping for some backup of my own. It’s bad, boss. Mind control type stuff. Killing hordes. Real nasty shit.”
Deep Blue stayed silent for a moment, torn between relief that Rook was alive and anger that the man had the balls to request resources as though he’d been on a mission. “Just tell me you were a prisoner,” he said.
“Look, I’m sorry I’ve been out of touch,” Rook said, a touch of impatience in his voice, “but I really could use some support over here. People are dying.”
Deep Blue sighed, pushing aside his mixed feelings. “Understood. But our resources are tapped.”
“Tapped?” Rook said. “You’ve got every asset in the world’s most advanced military at your command.”
“And you’ve been gone for a while,” Deep Blue countered. “Trust me. We’re tapped. I’ll get someone to your location as soon as possible.”
“Guess that will have to be good enough,” Rook said.
“If I had a choice-” Deep Blue started.
“Yeah, I know.”
“Good, and Rook, stay in touch this time.”
“Copy that.”
“Deep Blue out.”
Duncan shook his head. The man goes off the radar for months and turns up in Norway with the Village of the Damned. Figures. Well, one problem at a time.
Black Three nodded to Duncan, and then the side cargo door to the Black Hawk helicopter opened. Duncan looked down to the blinking lights on the roof of the John Hancock building under him. Far below that, the rest of Chicago was aglow as a dome of energy sat in the heart of the Magnificent Mile.
“After I’m gone, get out of here, Three. I have another transport coming for evac.”
“Roger,” the pilot said. “Good luck, Sir.”
“Thanks, we’ll need it.”
Deep Blue deactivated the heads-up display on his faceplate, checked the altimeter on his wrist and jumped out of the helicopter to freefall a thousand feet through the Chicago night sky.
NINE
Olderdalen, Norway
3 November, 0700 Hrs
Rook pressed the End button on the phone-a cell phone he had paid to borrow from a small storekeeper in the nearest town south of Fenris Kystby. He stepped out of the shop to the quiet street where Asya waited for him by Peder’s battered car, which they had used to drive the hour south.
The sky had gone overcast with a dark, heavy cloud cover. The brittle Norwegian coastal breeze ripped into him. He noticed that Asya seemed less affected by it. He supposed that was from her Russian upbringing. He himself was from New Hampshire, and he was used to both the cold and the damp sea air, but this far north in Norway was different from home. He was almost a full 30 degrees of latitude north of the chilly New England farm he knew. They were above the Arctic Circle, and Rook’s body and his emotions had taken a battering over the last few weeks. He figured it was okay to admit to himself that he was cold.
“Your friend? He will send help?” Asya seemed impatient.
“Yeah. As soon as he can, someone will be here.” Rook saw that she wasn’t looking at him but over his shoulder and behind him as he spoke.
He turned quickly to see a long-legged blonde woman strutting up to him. She wore a fleece headband that covered her ears and the scarring on her forehead-the only blemish to an otherwise sensationally gorgeous woman-the woman Rook had begun to fall in love with: Zelda Baker, also known as “Queen.” Rook whispered her name, then smiled wide. “Sonovabitch, that was fast!” Rook was stunned to see anyone from his team so quickly after Deep Blue’s brusque brush-off.
Then she drove her right fist into his jaw, squatting slightly and using the thrust from her legs as she came back up to throw her whole weight into the blow. Rook rocked back off his feet and into the air, flying backward to slam his head against the rear window of the old Two Series Volvo, shattering it. He slid down to the pavement amidst the sprinkling of safety glass cubes, landing on his ass with a thump.
Queen looked furious. Long blonde hair streamed behind her in the Arctic air. Her cheeks were a fierce red and her eyes were filled with anger. Rook understood immediately what it meant. He was both thrilled and terrified. Thrilled because it was instantly clear to him that she had come to care for him the same way her had for her, but he was also afraid that she might have construed his recent unauthorized departure from the team as his premature death. She might never forgive him for leaving and causing her to worry so.
Unfortunately, Rook was so taken by the sight of Queen and by the power of the blow she had landed on him, that he completely forgot his companion.
Asya didn’t know Queen at all and had come to a natural conclusion-only it was the wrong one. She leapt to Rook’s defense.
As Rook tried to stand up, he saw Asya’s black clad leg fly through the air as she executed a perfect flying sidekick. Her foot connected with Queen’s face, knocking the woman back, but she managed to keep her feet. Asya landed in front of Queen and both women took a long look at each other, sizing up their opponent before the real fight started.
Rook could see what was about to happen, but his head still hurt from the impact with the Volvo-to say nothing of the impact with Queen’s right cross. His body was battered and beaten from the earlier fight with the villagers and his shoulder was still brutalized from events even before that fight. He could barely move. And he couldn’t get a breath into his lungs fast enough to call out a ceasefire.
Large flakes of snow, lumped together into bold shapes, fell from the sky. A single flake fell between the women, striking the ground with a barely audible tick.
