street enforcer in that city and a part-time bounty hunter for a bail bondsman. His attorney had gotten him a sweetheart deal into the army to settle a manslaughter charge the DA’s office had leveled against him.
Before the army, Doyle had been a violent man conditioned to using his fists and a gun to solve problems. After Remington found out about him, he’d put the man’s talents to work. He still employed his fists and gun, and he did the dark, dirty jobs behind the scenes that Goose wouldn’t.
The “bird” was CIA Section Chief Alexander Cody.
“Where is he?” Remington asked.
“North end of the city.”
That didn’t surprise Remington. “Is he getting ready to run?”
“He’s still here, but I’m willing to bet if things turn much more sour, he’ll bolt like a striped ape.”
Remington wasn’t sure what the colloquialism meant, but he understood the sentiment. “He’s probably afraid to head out of the city with the SCUDs dropping out there.” The other end of Sanliurfa was easily within reach of the Syrians’ missiles, and some of those who had chosen to flee late in the game lay dead on the highway now.
“That’s the way I figure it too. But if he decides he likes his chances better out on the open road, what do you want me to do?”
“Prevent that. I’m not done with him.”
“Yes, sir. Probably be better to bag him and bring him in.”
“Can you do that?”
“Yes, sir, but it’ll be bloody. He’s got him a squad of hard-core boys around him.”
Remington’s mind flipped that around. “He’s not waiting here to see if he can get out of the city. He’s waiting to see how things turn out with Goose and Icarus.”
“You could be right, sir. But seeing as how we haven’t had any radio communication with Gander, there’s every chance that-”
“Goose would keep radio silence at this point,” Remington said. “He’s behind enemy lines. He’s not going to want to call attention to himself.”
“No, sir. I reckon not. If I was in his shoes, I wouldn’t want nobody to know where I was either. Out in that brush, he’ll have a chance.”
If he’s still alive.
Even though Doyle didn’t say the words, Remington knew the man was thinking them. Remington wasn’t going to believe Goose was dead till he saw the sergeant’s body.
“Keep a loose watch on your target,” Remington said. “I don’t want to lose track of him in the confusion.”
Another SCUD landed nearby and shook the earth. Particleboard dropped from the ceiling and landed on soldiers as well as the floor. A flurry of curses ran through the room, and a few of the men hit the deck and went flat. The electronics went out for a moment, then came back on.
“Are you still there?” Remington asked.
“Yes, sir.”
Remington let out a tense breath. He needed the communications array to stay intact. “Did you copy my last instructions?”
“Stay on top of the target. Don’t engage.”
“Right. He’s probably waiting around at least till nightfall. That’s when Goose will most likely try to make it back into the city. If Icarus is still alive, Goose will bring him in at that time too.”
“Yes, sir.” Doyle’s calm tone told Remington he’d already thought of that. “The target’s wired into a communications array himself. He’s staying on the horn to some of his people.”
“He’ll have spotters around the city.” Remington’s mind flew, working out everything Cody would probably be planning for. Remington turned and gazed around the room. “He’s probably going to have someone on me.”
“Yes, sir. If I was the target, that’s what I’d do.”
Remington hated the insecurity that fell over him. He hated having to accept that he didn’t control everyone in the room. Cody, and the agency the man worked for, had enough resources to buy any one of the soldiers in the command center who wasn’t convinced his future lay in Remington’s hands. At the moment, there were probably a lot of soldiers like that.
“The good thing is,” Doyle said, “the target doesn’t appear willing to leave the city till he deals with his objective. It’s easier to hunt something that has a reason to stay around. That way you don’t have to worry about just one chance to get it right. Him hunting that Icarus guy, that’s just a honey pot to a bear. I got a feeling this guy won’t jump till he’s settled his target’s hash. Works out for us.”
“I’m relying on you,” Remington said.
“Yes, sir. You’re in good hands.”
For the kind of work he was doing, Remington knew that was true. Goose would have asked too many questions, insisted on knowing too many things.
Making himself breathe, Remington started to flip the headset back to the frequency carrying the main information for the army maneuvers. Doyle’s next announcement stayed his hand.
“We got a problem,” Doyle stated in a flat, dead voice.
“What?”
“That woman news reporter just showed up.”
“What’s she doing there?”
“Nothing at the moment. Looks like she’s just watching him.”
“How did she know where the target was?”
“Don’t know, sir. You want me to-”
“Stay out of it,” Remington commanded. He didn’t know what Danielle Vinchenzo’s game was, but he was willing to let that develop a little as well. “Let her draw the heat for a while. Maybe she’ll force the target’s hand.”
“Yes, sir.”
“If something changes-”
“I’ll let you know immediately.”
Remington flipped frequencies and concentrated on the board, where Archer labored to put up the latest stats relayed by the intelligence teams. Men and women talked incessantly as they brought information together to hand off.
The monitors that fed video from cameras strung through the city kept breaking down. The feeds had to restart constantly. But the blank screens gave only a short reprieve from the absolute carnage unleashed on the city.
Dead lay in the streets. Survivors fought with the United States Army and with the United Nations units, demanding to be taken to a place of safety or to have help with a loved one who was wounded or dead.
In addition to death, the heavy hand of madness lay over the city as well.
“Hey, get back!” a man’s voice yelled.
Drawn by the fierce protectiveness in the words, Remington turned to face the entrance. A handful of soldiers held four civilians back. Three men and one woman, all Americans or Europeans from the sound of them, fought with the soldiers.
“Get those people out of here,” Remington commanded.
The soldiers pulled at the intruders, but they weren’t making much headway.
“You need to evacuate us,” the oldest man said. He looked like he was in his late thirties, powerfully built and broad. “You have planes. We’ve seen them.” He swatted one of the soldiers away with a vicious backhand that showed he was no stranger to violence. “We just want out of the city. You owe us that. We’re civilians. You’re supposed to save us. That’s your job, and I expect you to do it.”
The soldiers formed a line but gave up trying to remove the people.
They didn’t have the heart to do their jobs. Most of the younger soldiers hadn’t ever had to fight the people they were supposed to be rescuing. Remington understood, but he faulted them all the same.
Without another word, Remington walked over to the group. The soldiers stepped away. The big man leading them smiled and looked at Remington.
“Now this is more like it,” the big man said.
