Cliff Ryder: The Finish Line

"Yeah, yeah, we'll find her. That little bitch is crappin' her pants and on the run. We'll take her down in no time."

"Says the guy who can barely keep his own e-mail account open. Don't forget, she's a hacker, and a damn good one, if she and her brother really got what we wanted. That fuckin' prick, trying to jack up the price on us — you should have seen the look on his face just before I double-tapped him. It was almost worth all this trouble…" The first man's voice trailed off.

David was coming down the first-floor steps when he heard an engine turn over. Looking down the narrow, grimy alleyway, he saw the headlights of a boxy SUV flare to life.

Leveling his pistol, David stepped to the end of the first-floor fire-escape landing and aimed at the driver's side of the windshield. The Range Rover sped forward just as he fired three shots. A trio of pockmarks appeared in the glass, but it didn't break as he had expected. Instead the SUV zoomed forward to pass below him.

Shoving his pistol into its holster, David grabbed the railing with both hands and vaulted over the side, tucking his feet under him to break his fall when he landed on the moving vehicle. He had practiced the maneuver during his Midnight Team training dozens of times, and pulled it off flawlessly, landing on the metal roof with a thud. As soon as he hit, he dropped to his knees. The built-in pads on his armor easily absorbed the impact as he grabbed on to the sides of the vehicle. The roof was more solid than he had expected, and he realized that it was armored, as well. If they can't shoot me, then they'll have to come out and get me.

The Range Rover picked up speed as it shot out of the alley, swerving in a hard right turn onto Wyvil Road — away from the rest of David's team. He opened a channel to his leader. "M-One, this is M-Two. I'm tracking the hostiles, who are heading west on Wyvil…" David braced himself as the SUV ran over the curb and shot onto a larger avenue, heading north. "Make that north on Wandsworth Road."

"So nice of you to report in, M-Two. I've got you on our tracker — are you on the roof of the target vehicle?" M-One asked angrily.

"Affirmative…" David broke off as a man popped up from the passenger-side window, aiming a silenced pistol at him. Without time to draw his own weapon, he lunged toward the man and grabbed the gun just as it went off. The bullet disappeared into the night air. Holding the weapon away from him with one hand, David tried to maintain a grip on the roof with his other, but couldn't do both at the same time. The pistol slowly inched back down toward his head, the other man using his superior leverage with both hands to force it against his helmet. David let go of the roof and grabbed the man's other arm, but his opponent twisted out over the street, pulling David's upper body off the roof. Feeling himself slipping further, David lashed out with his left arm, grabbing the shooter's shoulder and pulling him down with him as he slid precariously close to the road.

"Whoa!" The man leaned back as David's weight forced him half out of the window. Dropping his pistol, he grabbed the door frame with one hand while trying to remove David's hand with the other. The driver yelled something, but David couldn't make it out. He tried to grab the window frame, as well, but the other man knocked his hand away, then clamped on to his fingers and pried them from his own black-suited shoulder. David tried to hold on, but felt each digit being loosened one at a time. He flailed frantically with his other hand, stealing a glance at the rough London pavement flashing by below, and not wanting to get any closer than he already was.

Before he could regain his grip on the other man, David's hand was torn away, and he flew from the Range Rover as it took another right turn. He landed on the street with a breath-stealing impact, rolling, bouncing and skidding to a halt at the side of the road. He had just begun to clear the stars from his eyes and get some air back into his lungs when a tire screeched to a stop only inches from his head. He heard doors popping open above him, and then strong hands were under his arms, hoisting him to his feet.

"Let's go, tough guy, you already fucked up the op enough, don't you think?" David caught M-Four's mocking words as he was unceremoniously stuffed into the back corner of the van, right next to the dead body they'd hauled back. Everyone else was in position. M-One was in the driver's seat, and hadn't even taken his eyes off the road as they'd collected David. But as David examined his battered body, he met the team leader's eyes in the rearview mirror, and got a very clear message — we'll discuss this later. Beside M-One, looking back with a concerned expression on her face, was Tara. M-Four, the loudmouth, had removed his MASC to reveal a lean, fox-faced man with a shock of ginger hair and a smattering of freckles.

Their final member, M-Five, rose from his position at the communication console to tend to David. "M-Four, take over here," he said.

The other man did so with a contemptuous snort. "Sure, make sure the hard charger hasn't hurt himself any more."

"M-Four, that's enough." M-One's voice was as calm as if he was ordering dinner, but it commanded immediate respect from the rest. "Monitor the police channels. It's bad enough we're exposed like this, but we might as well follow through now. Coming up on South Lambeth Road. M-Three, watch for cross traffic, particularly cops."

The windshield was blocked out by the dark face of M-Five bending over him. "Saw you take that flyer off the SUV. Ballsiest move I've seen in a long time, but none too bright." The tall South African undid the clasps on David's body armor as he spoke. "Take your gear off and let's get a look at you."

The van swayed as M-Five worked, and everyone heard the blast of car horns outside. "Too close," M-One commented. "Now heading east on Fentiman Road. They'll either try to lose us in the neighborhood streets, or else take their chances on Clapham…"

"Watch your left!" Tara pointed, and the van jogged to the right just in time to avoid a truck that filled the windshield, passing close enough to knock the flexible side mirror out of alignment.

"Thanks. Passing Meadow Road. They're heading to Clapham for sure."

M-Five ran his hands along David's ribs, pressing gently and listening for any exclamation of pain or indrawn breath. Although his joints ached from the drubbing they'd taken during his roll on the street, David said he felt fine overall. "That Dragon Skin is some tough stuff."

"Yeah, and the MASC did its job, as well." M-Five shone a light into each of David's eyes. "I don't see any immediate signs of a concussion, but I'm gonna keep you under watch for the next twenty-four hours," he said.

M-Four spoke up from the console, shoving earphones off his head. "The bobbies are cordoning off Wyvil Road at both ends, and expanding their net to include the surrounding blocks. Due to reports of explosions in the house, a bomb squad is being called in. Looks like we got out just in time."

"Good. The more time they spend there, the less time they have to look for us." M-One glanced both ways as they sped toward a busy intersection. "We're coming up to Clapham, folks, so hang on — this next bit's liable to get bumpy."

David had shrugged off the team medic's attentions and sat up just in time to see them roar into the intersection. Still hard on the SUV's tail, the van shot out into the main thoroughfare, forcing cars to screech to a stop on both sides of them and attracting much more attention than anyone inside was comfortable with.

"Damn it, we've got company," Tara said.

David looked out the one-way rear window to see a motorcycle officer hit his lights and siren and give chase.

"Can't be helped now. If we're blocked for any reason, you all know what to do," M-One said.