He set off at a determined jog-trot, the others reeling after him. This was an east-west street. Just a few blocks, a quarter of a mile at most, and they’d reach the safety of the Navy Yard….
A furious shout erupted behind them. “There he is!”
The searchers he’d scammed were back, and they’d brought plenty of friends. Matt risked a look over his shoulder. Perhaps three quarters of a block stretched between the escapees and the gang hunting them.
“Move!” The word came out more as a croak as he pushed his pace into a run. At least if they got around the corner….
Then, ahead, he saw dark, wiry figures rounding the street corners.
Matt swerved, leading his companions to the shelter of a stone stairway. He swallowed, tasting the bile flavor of blackest despair. They were cut off, pinned front and rear by two groups of gang members who’d be delighted to kill them. They’d have been better off back in the belfry!
Chapter 20
A shouted command rang out, and all of a sudden, brilliant lights lanced through the early evening dimness. The gangbangers ahead scuttled aside like roaches caught on the kitchen floor. The lights advanced at a walking pace. Matt made out the shapes of four Humvees, accompanied by figures on foot toting heavy rifles.
Matt caught a flash of green from the newcomers’ clothing. But these weren’t Buzzard reinforcements. The green came from the fatigues of U.S. Marines.
Behind the guard detail, lights flashing, was a fire truck! The driver honked his horn, eager to get on with the job of dousing the flames.
Matt suddenly found himself blessing the idiot who’d launched the grenade and set the house on fire. True, it had acted like a gigantic signal flare, drawing in all the Buzzards searching for them.
But it had also drawn the firefighting team from the Navy Yard!
And since the fire was in a supposedly derelict area, the powers that be had sent a Marine escort in case there might be trouble.
The Buzzards had been temporarily taken by surprise. Still, they outnumbered the Marines by a good ten to one. They could try to overrun the troopers and still attempt their big knockover.
But the Humvees had to have radios. If they could warn the Marines — get the word out….
Matt turned to Luc and Caitlin. “Come on. We’ve got to tell them what they’re stepping into. What’s going on.”
He stepped away from the feeble refuge of the steps and walked into the gleam of the headlights, his hands up.
Marine rifles snapped in his direction, but Matt kept walking forward, making sure his empty hands were visible. “You’ve got about two hundred gang members ahead of you,” he warned. “They’ve massed here—”
“For an attack on the Gardens at Carrollsburg,” Cat Corrigan interrupted, stepping past him. She, too, kept her hands in the air. “They kidnapped my friends and me. I’m Caitlin Corrigan, the Senator’s daughter.”
“Smart girl,” Luc muttered.
Matt glanced at the other boy.
“Word of the kidnapping must be out by now,” Luc said. “The soldiers will have to take her seriously.”
Matt was about to explain that they were Marines, not soldiers, when he caught a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye.
As the standoff developed, Rob Falk must have crept up through the shadows to the steps of the row house that the escapees had just left. Now he rose up out of his hiding place, the old M9 pistol he’d taken from Serge Woronov in his hand, his eyes glittering.
“Oh, no, bitch,” he gritted. “You’re not wrecking everything I’ve worked for.”
At the same time, a Marine yelled, “Get down, you young idiot!”
Luc had taken off in a wild leap to stop Falk — but he was also blocking the Marines’ line of fire!
A shot did ring out — from Rob’s gun. But he didn’t hit Caitlin. He hit Luc.
The French boy cried out, spinning and clutching his arm. He staggered, but somehow stayed upright — still blocking the Marines. But he lurched toward Falk with the stiff-legged gait of a zombie out of a horror movie. His left arm hung useless, dripping blood onto the cracked pavement.
His right hand, however, reached out hungrily for the gang’s computer whiz. “You — won’t — hurt — Cat!” he growled in short, painful gasps.
Luc made himself a perfect target — and he was everything Rob Falk hated — a member of an in-crowd, from the land of privilege — and the land of diplomats.
Rob aimed his gun toward Luc. Matt could hear frustrated growls from the Marines trying to aim their rifles, trying to find a clear shot at Rob without hitting Luc and Caitlin. If he didn’t stop this — and now — it would mean the start of a general firefight.
He forced his tired legs into one last run, a wild dash that launched him into the air. “Falk!” he yelled.
Matt didn’t know what would happen. Rob was just an amateur at gunfighting, which meant his actions were completely unpredictable. If Rob had been a trained shot, he might have taken care of his aimed target before turning to Matt.
Instead, Rob hesitated, his aim flicking between the oncoming Luc and Matt, who was now hurtling toward him.
He didn’t even have time to get a shot off before Matt tackled him. They hit the pavement with bruising force. Rob wriggled like an eel, trying to escape and shoot again. Matt held onto Falk’s gun hand, grinding down on the wrist until the weapon fell from Rob’s fingers.
When Matt kicked to send the pistol skidding away, Rob’s free hand came up like a set of claws, going for Matt’s eyes. Matt ducked, punched his opponent, then spun him around so he lay on his belly. He forced Rob’s right arm behind his back and dragged him up, applying painful pressure until the bones creaked.
Rob cried out, but Matt held him on his feet, maintaining the come-along hold. He backed up, keeping Rob between him and the rest of the Buzzards. If they wanted to shoot, they’d have to risk hitting their pet genius.
Marine riflemen closed in around them. “What’s the story here?” a sergeant asked.
“I’m a Net Force Explorer,” Matt explained between gasps. “If you contact Captain Winters through the Net Force Washington office, I think he’ll vouch for me.”
“This is the man with the computer know-how to breach the security system at the Gardens at Carrollsburg. Whatever you do, make sure his friends don’t get him back.”
The crowd of gang members surged like a restless sea. They knew that if they lost Rob Falk, their whole plan would fall apart. But they were unwilling to go up against the rifles aimed against them by the Marines. If it had been police facing them, they might have made a try at storming the line. But not Marines.
Matt had finally backed up to the parked Humvees. He gave a sigh of relief as he saw a Marine lieutenant on the mobile radio. In the distance, they already heard the skirl of oncoming sirens.
The sergeant passed on Matt’s message and the lieutenant contacted Net Force, and soon helicopters were in the air overhead as well.
It was over.
Inside the rectory of the abandoned church, Captain Winters shook his head. A full Net Force criminal investigation tech team was at work, going over the weirdly mis-mated system Rob Falk had put together.
Matt had been right. Without Falk, James and his warriors had been unable to pull off their big robbery. James himself had been on the other side of the desolate zone, leading his people in a gunfight against Serge Woronov. The Balkan diplomat’s son hadn’t made it to the elevated parkway. But he’d taken refuge among the concrete pilings, trading shots with James and a crew of Buzzards.
