WEST SIDE – DETROIT – UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. He got up and followed her out into the compartment beyond

An hour later, the hatch clanked open again and the blonde woman stood in the doorway, beckoning Jensen with one hand. “Come on,” she told him.

He got up and followed her out into the compartment beyond. He’d pieced together that they were on some kind of boat, and when he looked up and saw the distant arches of the bridge through a rent in the tarp roof, he knew where they were. “Smart place for an FOB,” he offered. “No-one comes down to the docks these days.” When the woman didn’t acknowledge his words, Jensen tried a different tack. “You don’t think much of me, do you?”

“Vande don’t think much of anybody,” said an olive-skinned man as he walked past them. “It’s not personal.”

“Shut up, Chen,” she told him.

Jensen watched the guy cross the room to where the rest of the Task Force team were assembling. It was a familiar setup. A few techies were working keyboards, prepping comm channels and scanning through the city data grid, and by their sides, a small squad of hard-faced men and women made ready their weapons and told bad jokes, burning off any pre-mission adrenaline.

The blonde – Vande – brought him to her commander as he climbed out of a folding chair, pushing aside a clamshell VR helmet rig on an extending arm. They exchanged weighty looks again, and Jensen understood that these two had the kind of highly synchronized behavior patterns that could only be earned through shared combat experience.

“So if we’re introducing ourselves,” he began, “the name’s Jarreau. I’m what passes for in charge of this band of reprobates. Vande here, she’s my red right hand.”

“I thought Interpol were all admin and investigation,” said Jensen. “Since when have they had covert mobile strike teams?”

“The Aug Incident changed a lot of things,” said Vande, by way of explanation.

“We track, locate and neutralize criminals and terrorist groups,” added Jarreau. “It’s that simple.”

“I doubt it,” Jensen replied. “So what happens now?” He nodded toward the team, unconsciously reaching for the inhibitor bracelet around his forearm.

“You’ll be pleased to know that the folks who write my paychecks agreed with the intel you gave us. Turns out, there happens to be a certain cargo lifter coming into Wayne County Airport from across the Canadian border tonight, and its flight plan is what you might call sketchy.” He glanced at Vande. “It’s a good probable for Sheppard and his crew.”

“That’d be the connection picking up the stolen augs?” said Jensen.

“Affirmative.” Jarreau nodded. “So, you’re gonna liaise with Chen over there, keep an eye on the screens and sing out the moment you spot a face you recognize, got it? We tie this all up with a neat little bow tonight, and then everyone goes their separate ways.”

Jensen shook his head. “That won’t work. I can’t do this by remote, I need to be on site.”

“Not going to happen,” Vande said immediately.

“No?” Jensen fixed her with a steady gaze. “You’re not new to this and by the looks of your people over there, no-one on this tub is a day-player. So you tell me: in a high-tempo operation, every moment is vital, right? Do you really want to chance me missing something important because I’m getting it secondhand through someone else’s optics?”

Vande glared back at him. “You seem to think we’re operating as equals here, Jensen. But you’re in our custody. You’re not part of our team.”

“And how well has your team been doing so far?”

The woman opened her mouth to retort, but Jarreau interceded. “Okay, enough. Jensen makes a good point. Make a space for him on the bird, he’s coming with us.”

Vande shot an are you kidding me look at her commander, but he gave nothing back. “Your call, boss,” she said, after a moment.

“All right.” Jarreau pointed toward the tech Jensen saw earlier. “I assume you’ll want your tac kit back? Chen will fix you up.”

“Do I get a weapon?” Jensen held up the arm with the inhibitor bracelet. “And what about this?”

Jarreau smiled. “I’m not stupid, Jensen. Consider yourself an observer, not a participant.” He walked off toward the gathered team.

The steel index finger of Vande’s right hand prodded Jensen squarely in the chest and she lowered her voice so only he could hear her. “He’s taken a shine to you. That’s a rare failing on his part, one that I don’t share.”

“And yet you seem so warm and friendly.” Jensen’s deadpan reply didn’t land.

“You get in the way out there, do something I don’t like, look at me funny… I’ll make you regret it. All I care about is getting that tech off the grid. You don’t matter to me, clear?” Vande stalked away before he could offer a reply.

⇐ Предыдущая20212223242526272829Следующая ⇒

Поделиться: