‘but I don’t know for . . .’
Harlequin cut him off with a wave. ‘Respectfully, sir, I’ll be setting up my incident command post there. I’m going to need to go in hot and secure it right now. Whatever you’ve got to spare will be greatly appreciated. You’ve got the best situational awareness of anyone here thus far, so I’ll need you to turn this post over to your deputy and join me there.’
Hewitt bridled, began to speak, but Harlequin was already turning, motioning his people back into their helos. ‘Or, you can stay here, sir,’ Harlequin added. ‘I’m trying to give you a role in this operation, but I’m in charge, and if you want out, you might be doing both of us a favor. I’m happy to pillage your resources using presidential authority with or without your consent.’
He Bound the magic and rose into the air as the helos spun their rotors up. ‘But if you’re willing to cut the crap and help me, I’d be glad to have someone who knows the lay of the land. Your call, sir.’
The words were a gamble. The truth was that he desperately wanted Hewitt at his side. Harlequin hadn’t been back to New York City since he was assigned there years ago, and Hewitt’s experience would be invaluable. But to win him, he’d first have to show him who was stronger. Please, let that be enough.
Harlequin gave a parting salute and rose into the sky, the two Blackhawks banking to join him, racing across the East River, the smoke and chaos of lower Manhattan growing clearer by the moment.
Governor’s Island rushed by below, the abandoned buildings mostly cleared now, a scattering of rising I-beams hinting at the new structures to come. Harlequin jerked his thumb down and radioed to Captain Cormack, his aide for this operation, flying in the Blackhawk alongside him.
‘That’s our fallback,’ Harlequin said into the mic snaking along his chin, pointing to the island beneath him. He wanted to be closer to the fighting, but at least this was an option if they couldn’t establish a foothold in the park.
‘Roger that, sir,’ Cormack said. ‘Sorry about what happened down there. I understand why you did what you did, and . . .’
‘Appreciated, but let’s secure the chatter.’ It was encrypted end-to-end comms, so it was unlikely anyone else heard, but the last thing Harlequin needed right now was to be distracted by sympathy.
Get to the park, get it secured. Harlequin tried to focus on the immediate. His mind turned over avenues of approach, supply lines, how quickly they could get comms going. Anything other than the woman’s face in that grainy cell phone video.
It’s not the woman you knew. She’s dead. There was only Scylla now.
He shook his head, letting the wind strip the question away.
They moved out over the blue-green of the Upper Bay, where the Hudson emptied into it around Manhattan’s western coastline. The thick green of Battery Park stood in stark contrast to the haphazard gray grid of the buildings around it. Even from this height, Harlequin could see people thronging the edges of the park, fleeing the chaos to their north. Three white-hulled Coast Guard cutters were moored at South Ferry Terminal, with several smaller boats flashing silver and orange as they loaded refugees, shuttling them to safety in New Jersey. The highway to the Brooklyn Battery Tunnel was a parking lot. The flickering colors of police lights indicated that some effort to direct the traffic was underway, but every car in the Financial District was trying to exit the island at once, and the snarl was inevitable. In the middle of the working day, it was the busiest part of an already busy city.
There was no way they would be able to get them all out in time. Harlequin had conflicting reports, but he knew that, at a low estimate, scores were dead already. There would be hundreds if not thousands more in the hours to come. The faster he moved, the better.
‘What’s that?’ Harlequin pointed to a gray
Harlequin cut him off with a wave. ‘Respectfully, sir, I’ll be setting up my incident command post there. I’m going to need to go in hot and secure it right now. Whatever you’ve got to spare will be greatly appreciated. You’ve got the best situational awareness of anyone here thus far, so I’ll need you to turn this post over to your deputy and join me there.’
Hewitt bridled, began to speak, but Harlequin was already turning, motioning his people back into their helos. ‘Or, you can stay here, sir,’ Harlequin added. ‘I’m trying to give you a role in this operation, but I’m in charge, and if you want out, you might be doing both of us a favor. I’m happy to pillage your resources using presidential authority with or without your consent.’
He Bound the magic and rose into the air as the helos spun their rotors up. ‘But if you’re willing to cut the crap and help me, I’d be glad to have someone who knows the lay of the land. Your call, sir.’
The words were a gamble. The truth was that he desperately wanted Hewitt at his side. Harlequin hadn’t been back to New York City since he was assigned there years ago, and Hewitt’s experience would be invaluable. But to win him, he’d first have to show him who was stronger. Please, let that be enough.
Harlequin gave a parting salute and rose into the sky, the two Blackhawks banking to join him, racing across the East River, the smoke and chaos of lower Manhattan growing clearer by the moment.
Governor’s Island rushed by below, the abandoned buildings mostly cleared now, a scattering of rising I-beams hinting at the new structures to come. Harlequin jerked his thumb down and radioed to Captain Cormack, his aide for this operation, flying in the Blackhawk alongside him.
‘That’s our fallback,’ Harlequin said into the mic snaking along his chin, pointing to the island beneath him. He wanted to be closer to the fighting, but at least this was an option if they couldn’t establish a foothold in the park.
‘Roger that, sir,’ Cormack said. ‘Sorry about what happened down there. I understand why you did what you did, and . . .’
‘Appreciated, but let’s secure the chatter.’ It was encrypted end-to-end comms, so it was unlikely anyone else heard, but the last thing Harlequin needed right now was to be distracted by sympathy.
Get to the park, get it secured. Harlequin tried to focus on the immediate. His mind turned over avenues of approach, supply lines, how quickly they could get comms going. Anything other than the woman’s face in that grainy cell phone video.
It’s not the woman you knew. She’s dead. There was only Scylla now.
He shook his head, letting the wind strip the question away.
They moved out over the blue-green of the Upper Bay, where the Hudson emptied into it around Manhattan’s western coastline. The thick green of Battery Park stood in stark contrast to the haphazard gray grid of the buildings around it. Even from this height, Harlequin could see people thronging the edges of the park, fleeing the chaos to their north. Three white-hulled Coast Guard cutters were moored at South Ferry Terminal, with several smaller boats flashing silver and orange as they loaded refugees, shuttling them to safety in New Jersey. The highway to the Brooklyn Battery Tunnel was a parking lot. The flickering colors of police lights indicated that some effort to direct the traffic was underway, but every car in the Financial District was trying to exit the island at once, and the snarl was inevitable. In the middle of the working day, it was the busiest part of an already busy city.
There was no way they would be able to get them all out in time. Harlequin had conflicting reports, but he knew that, at a low estimate, scores were dead already. There would be hundreds if not thousands more in the hours to come. The faster he moved, the better.
‘What’s that?’ Harlequin pointed to a gray
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