Cliff Ryder - The Finish Line

David leaned back in the seat, content to just keep an eye on her. He knew Room 59 agents would have been dispatched to all major cities in the area. Given their direction, he was pretty sure he knew where she was going, and he fully expected that there would be a welcoming party there — just not the one she was expecting.

Anthony sat in the helicopter seat as he and Gregor flew north, toward Belgium. His face was set, betraying no hint of emotion as he stared straight ahead, trying to come to grips with what had just happened over the past hour. Not only had he lost the woman again — but that cocky, smiling bastard had killed Liam right in front of him.

He had worked with Liam for three years — an eternity in the PMC trade. They had functioned like perfectly matched bookends, with the laconic Brit seeming to read his mind at times, always backing his play, yet knowing when he might be pushing the odds a bit too far. They had crossed the globe a dozen times over, fought and schemed in backwater villages on rivers that had barely been named a few decades earlier, and run operations in the largest metropolitan cities in the world. And now he was gone. To Anthony, it felt much as if one of his limbs had been cut off, leaving him crippled. Not that he would show it, but he felt it inside — a hollow space that might not ever go away.

At least Gregor took out their leader. And I got two more, which leaves only him. After the helicopter went down, Anthony had almost chased the two survivors when he saw them climb out of the aircraft before it went over the side of the building. But the jump to the lower level of the other building was too much to risk. And besides, he had cleanup to do.

He had carried Liam's body back inside and taken the elevator down one floor, where he found a wheeled cart and a sheet to cover his partner with, along with a white lab coat for himself. In the confusion over the crash, he had managed to locate a janitor's closet, where he had wrapped Liam's body in heavy-duty garbage bags and borrowed a uniform and a janitor's cart. From there it had been a simple matter to walk out a side entrance and make his way back to the SUV, where he had ditched the cart and packed Liam inside, ignoring Gregor's questioning glance. Anthony had instead offered him a cigarette, which the tall Russian had accepted. "Covers up the smell," Anthony said, lighting up himself. He hated smoking, but didn't want to take a chance on an alert cop smelling the distinct odor of burned gunpowder.

They had slipped out of the parking structure and headed the opposite way from the sirens and cordons and roadblocks. There had been one close incident, when two police cars had blocked the street in preparation for setting up a roadblock. A car coming the other way had screeched to a halt, narrowly missing the squad car, and setting off a furious argument between the driver and the two cops. It had ended with the driver in the back of the squad car, and Anthony and Gregor being waved through with just a cursory examination of their papers, which were in perfect order.

Anthony had plotted a route out of the city, but had to admit defeat, pulling out his cell phone and hitting the speed dial, then setting the phone on the dashboard.

"You certainly know how to attract attention to yourself," the voice on the other end said.

"Sod off. My team just got cut to shit by these fuckin' assholes."

"I'm aware. By the media furor, one would think the Germans were marching down the Champs-Elysees again. And?…"

"And the bitch got away again, goddamn it. In fact, she's with the last survivor of the fucking team that tried to rescue her. Do you have anything pertinent to the situation, or are you just going to keep shitting on me?" Anthony didn't care anymore what his handler thought of him.

"Since the girl is approximately thirty kilometers away from you and traveling farther every second, I'd suggest you shut your fucking gob and listen very carefully."

Anthony looked at the phone in amazement; his handler never came close to losing his temper. "Go on," he said quietly.

"We've just concluded a deal that will deliver this woman right into our hands. All we need to do is send someone to collect her at an address in Brussels."

"Where?"

His handler supplied an address on the outskirts of the city. "You know that since she's with the other side, they will no doubt be moving reinforcements to keep what they think is theirs."

"That will not happen," Anthony said.

"Your declaration doesn't fill me with too much confidence, for while you certainly are adept at killing everyone around her, the woman keeps slipping through your fingers. Go to this airfield on the north side of town." He rattled off another address. "Transportation will be waiting for you to get to Brussels ahead of them. Once there, you will take charge of the woman and bring her back to us. You'll have everything you need to get the job done. And you'd better keep her this time — otherwise don't bother coming back."

"She'll be on your doorstep this evening. Oh, one more thing — I recovered one of ours."

"There in the vehicle with you?"

"Yes — it's Liam."

There was silence on the other end for a few seconds. "That is a pity. Let the desk person know — they'll handle it."

"Thank you."

"I'm not doing it for you. I'm doing it for him. Liam was one of our best. I'd planned to give him his own team after this one, instead of him constantly cleaning up after your messes."

"After this one, you won't have to worry about me anymore," Anthony said.

"Until you're in the grave, you'll always be a worry to me. Get the woman." The connection broke with a soft click.

That had been thirty minutes earlier, and now they were shooting toward Brussels at more than 150 miles per hour. It was fast enough to get there, find the address and set up a reception for Maggie and that bastard — one that she would never forget, and he would never survive.

Kate studied the screens floating in virtual reality around her. The largest one was keeping real-time tabs on her single Midnight Team member in France — the only link they had to the girl and the stolen data. Other monitors showed possible routes the runner could take, based on her travel so far and the statistical probability of her destinations. And on each of them were travel lines and estimated intercept times for Room 59 operatives to apprehend them.

The last screen — to which she paid only peripheral attention — was CNN. The news channel was covering the recent incident in Paris with the most aplomb, although the anchors couldn't help speculating about whether it was some kind of foiled terrorist incident or a crime gone wrong. They hadn't posted any photos of suspects yet, but Kate kept glancing over, expecting to see them as soon as the French police held a conference about it. She knew the next few hours would be critical. At least they got out of the city, even if he hasn't been able to contact us, she told herself.

That last part was the most worrisome. An operative wasn't supposed to lose his or her phone, period. Kate had spoken to the woman who had answered David's — and who had no doubt ditched the device soon after so it couldn't be traced. She's no dummy, that's for sure. But if she'd been able to take the phone from David, why was she still taking him with her? Kate had rather expected that her operative would have been thrown out along with the phone, but instead his dot was still traveling steadily toward Belgium. Why?

A chime alerted her to more news. It was Autom8 again, looking as haggard as Kate felt. "Got a line on the car they're in. It's an '08 silver Peugeot 407. Here's the license plate number."