19. Hornet
19
HORNET
“ G o!” Jekyll urged as I watched him let go of Kima. His face had gone alarmingly pale, the earlier exertion clearly taking its toll.
She cast one more glance at him, then her training kicked in as she sprinted toward the boathouse, weapon ready.
I grabbed her arm as we burst through the tunnel exit and into blinding daylight. The boathouse Jekyll had described stood a few paces ahead, the Adriatic’s turquoise waters lapping at its wooden dock. Behind us, the tunnel thumped with footsteps and muffled shouts of pursuit.
I took up the rear guard position, covering Jekyll, who’d stumbled. When I caught him by the elbow, I was struck by how little substance there was beneath my grip. The cancer had eaten away more than his strength.
“I’m fine,” he insisted, straightening with visible effort.
The moment we reached the boathouse, Reaper’s voice crackled through our comms. “Blackjack and I are pinned down in the east wing. Typhon and Greenwich are engaging hostiles at the main entrance.”
“Coordinate with Typhon for fallback to extraction point Charlie,” I instructed. “We’re at the boathouse now.”
Jekyll moved past us to a control panel hidden beneath the weathered planking. His fingers danced across the keypad, and the low rumble of machinery filled the air as part of the dock slid aside, revealing a sleek black speedboat rising from a concealed berth.
“Minerva Protocol precautions,” he explained, already moving to the controls. “Always have an escape route your enemies don’t know about.”
“How did they find us?” I demanded, my mind racing through our security protocols. “We had surveillance on every approach, jamming technology for all known frequencies, and a complete communications blackout.”
Jekyll’s expression darkened. “They’ve been watching this location for days, waiting for me to arrive.”
“That’s impossible,” I countered. “Greenwich verified the perimeter was clean less than four hours ago.”
“Unless someone gave them our location,” Kima said, the implication hanging heavy in the air.
I scanned the treeline behind us. Movement caught my eye—dark figures emerging from the forest at a full run.
“Company,” I warned, taking up position at the boathouse’s entrance while Kima helped Jekyll into the boat. I sighted on the lead figure and fired twice, forcing them to dive for cover.
“Hornet!” Kima called. “We’re ready!”
I raced back toward the dock, maintaining suppressive fire as bullets splintered the wooden frame around me. The speedboat’s engines roared to life as Jekyll hunched over the controls.
The moment I leapt aboard, Kima pushed us away from the dock. Bullets stitched the water around us as Jekyll opened the throttle, and the boat surged forward with unexpected power.
“Use the radio,” Jekyll shouted over the engines, tossing Kima a secure handset. “Try channel six. It should connect with your team.”
She tuned to the specified frequency. “Typhon? Are you there? This is Delfino. We’re on the water, heading south. What’s your status?”
His response came through garbled, but clear enough: “Heavily engaged. Extraction in progress. Confirm rendezvous at point Echo.”
“Confirmed,” she replied. Echo was our southernmost fallback position, a small cove with multiple exit routes.
A bullet ricocheted off the boat’s hull, and Jekyll swerved sharply, putting more distance between us and the shore.
“They’re launching pursuit watercraft,” I noted, spotting two smaller boats speeding from a hidden inlet.
“Expected,” Jekyll replied grimly. “Hold tight.”
He veered suddenly, taking us into rougher waters where our boat’s superior design gave us an advantage. Salt spray lashed my face as we bounced over the waves, the pursuing vessels falling back slightly, but still doggedly following.
The radio crackled again. “We have wounded,” Reaper reported. “Regent took a hit.”
Kima’s jaw tightened. “How serious?”
“Flesh wound. He can move. We’re proceeding to the vehicles now.”
I checked our ammunition. “If they follow us to the rendezvous, we’ll need to create a diversion.”
“There’s a narrow channel ahead,” Jekyll noted, gesturing to a rocky outcropping. “Local fishermen use it. The water’s too shallow for most vessels, but we can make it. It’ll put us out of sight long enough to gain some distance.”
Kima studied him, evaluating his knowledge against her inherent distrust. “Do it,” she decided, her hand resting on her weapon.
The boat slowed as Jekyll navigated into the channel, rock walls rising on either side. Our pursuit momentarily vanished from view, searching for another route around the formation.
“They’ll figure it out eventually,” Jekyll warned, focused on the treacherous passage. “But this gives us a few minutes.”
I used the opportunity to check our position on the GPS. “We’re six minutes from the rendezvous, assuming we maintain current speed.”
I noticed Jekyll’s hands trembling on the controls. Whatever reserve of strength he’d called upon was rapidly depleting.
“Let me take over,” I offered, moving beside him.
He hesitated, then relented with a short nod. As I gripped the wheel, he sagged into the adjacent seat, his breathing shallow.
“There’s something else you need to know,” he said, voice low enough that only I could hear.
Before he could continue, the radio burst with static. “Incoming!” Greenwich’s voice cut through. “Helicopter, approaching from the northwest!”
I looked up to see a dark shape against the blue sky, moving fast toward the coastline where the villa stood.
“FSB air support,” Jekyll confirmed, his expression darkening. “They’re escalating beyond standard protocol.”
“For you?” Kima asked sharply.
“Not only me,” he replied, meeting her gaze. “For what I know. And for what we might have discussed.”
We emerged from the channel into open water, and I pushed the throttle forward, sending the boat leaping ahead. Behind us, the pursuit craft reappeared, closer now than before—they’d also found a shortcut.
“Two minutes to rendezvous,” I called out, focusing on the shoreline ahead, where a small, sheltered cove came into view.
Gunfire erupted from the pursuing boats, bullets splashing into the water around us. I steered in an evasive pattern, making us a harder target while maintaining our forward progress.
“Down!” I shouted as a round pinged off the metal frame inches from Jekyll’s head.
Kima returned fire, targeting the pilot of the lead boat. Her shot connected, and the vessel veered wildly before cutting speed.
“One down,” she noted coolly, already sighting on the second boat.
“Typhon, we’re approaching the rendezvous under fire,” I reported. “Status?”
“In position,” came the immediate reply. “Ready to provide cover.”
As we rounded the final headland into the cove, I saw the extraction team already in place—Typhon and Greenwich in defensive positions with a vehicle waiting on a narrow access road. Relief washed through me at the sight.
But it evaporated when the second pursuit boat suddenly accelerated, closing the distance with alarming speed. The distinctive crack of a high-powered rifle echoed across the water.
Jekyll jumped up and covered Kima’s body with his, and bullets flew all around us.
“He’s hit!” Kima shouted as I maintained our course.
Blood bloomed across Jekyll’s shirt, spreading with terrifying rapidity from below his right collarbone. His face had gone ghostly white.
“Almost there,” I called, pushing the boat to its limits as the shoreline rushed toward us.
Typhon opened fire from his position, forcing the pursuing boat to veer off. The moment we were close enough, I cut the engines and leapt into the shallows, helping Kima lower Jekyll’s now-limp form from the boat.
“Stretcher!” Kima shouted, applying pressure to Jekyll’s wound as blood seeped between her fingers.
Greenwich rushed forward with a field medical kit while Typhon covered our retreat. Jekyll’s eyes fluttered as we transferred him to the waiting vehicle.
“Not good,” Greenwich muttered, checking his vital signs.
Jekyll’s hand shot out with surprising strength, gripping Kima’s wrist. “Listen,” he rasped, blood bubbling at the corner of his mouth. “There’s a traitor?—”
His voice failed as a violent cough seized him, spattering crimson across his chin.
“Save your strength,” Kima urged, her voice breaking despite her best efforts.
I applied additional pressure to the wound as Typhon slid behind the wheel. “We need to move. Now.”
The SUV lurched forward as the helicopter we’d been warned about appeared over the headland, bearing down on our position. Typhon navigated the rough road that climbed away from the cove.
In the back, Kima cradled Jekyll’s head in her lap, her fingers pressed against the pulse point in his neck. I worked alongside Greenwich, trying to stem the blood flow, but the spreading stain told its own story.
“Stay with us,” Kima whispered fiercely. “Please. We have so much more to talk about.”
Jekyll’s gaze found hers, a ghost of a smile touching his bloodless lips. “Proud of you,” he managed, each word clearly costing him. “Always was.”
His gaze shifted to me. “Take care of her,” he murmured.
“I will,” I promised, meaning it with every fiber of my being.
Jekyll turned back to Kima. “Minerva,” he breathed. “Find Lyra…tell her?—”
His body convulsed suddenly, back arching against the stretcher. Then, with a long, rattling exhale, he went completely still, focusing on Kima’s face as the light behind his eyes faded.
“No,” Kima whispered, her fingers checking desperately for a pulse. “No, no, no.”
I reached for her hand, squeezing it as we both knew the truth. Edgar Hyde—Jekyll—was gone. Whatever secrets he still held, whatever explanations he might have offered, had died with him.
Typhon’s voice broke the silence. “We have a rendezvous in twenty minutes. Reaper reports his team is clear, wounded secure.”
“What about Amaryllis?” I asked.
“Attempts at contact have gone unanswered,” Reaper responded, the strain in his voice was uncharacteristic enough that it stunned me.
Kima sat motionless, one hand still clasping Jekyll’s cooling fingers, grief-stricken.
“They knew exactly when to hit us,” she said softly. “The timing was too perfect.”
“I agree. Someone compromised our operation. They waited until Jekyll was with you, then struck.”
“But who?” she asked. “And why wait at all? If they could breach our security that completely, why not take him in transit?”
The way she phrased the question led me to think that she, like me, was wondering if Amaryllis was the traitor Jekyll had tried to tell us about. For now, though, I wouldn’t voice that suspicion.
Whether it was her or someone else, clearly they’d wanted Jekyll silenced at the exact moment he was about to share critical information with Kima.
As the vehicle carried us away from the coast, the sound of distant explosions marked the villa’s final destruction. I kept my arm around her, offering what comfort I could while acutely aware that the mission had shifted once again.
Jekyll’s death wasn’t the end. In many ways, it was only the beginning.