Chapter Forty-Two
Denton sat hunkered over his Toughbook—a rugged laptop designed for extreme environments—in the darkened Security Control room. He watched the single dot onscreen—Montoya’s subdermal GPS implant—tell him Sophia and her insurgents were trying to escape in a second railcar. Major Novak stood at his shoulder, his breath warm on Denton’s shaved head. He hated it when Novak did that. Especially when his idea of breakfast was an omelet that smelled like its only ingredient was onion.
‘Oscar Five Delta to Tango Zero Golf,’ Denton said into his throat mike. ‘Hold position at railcar platform. I repeat, hold position at railcar platform. Over.’
‘Tango Zero Golf to Oscar Five Delta. Acknowledged. Out.’
‘Oscar Five Delta to Echo Four India,’ Denton said. ‘X-Rays are inbound. Sta
