Torchwood: Exodus Code

still may be,’ said Jack. ‘The noises in my head are stronger, I’m seeing ribbons of colours in my peripheral vision and I’ve got a rock in my gut.’
    ‘Wheeee!’ giggled Gwen, squeezing Jack’s arm.
    ‘I think I know what’s going on,’ said Cash, tapping his earpiece. ‘The soldiers who were undercover are a joint task force of CIA and ATF. The other fighters are split between guards loyal to Asiro and those who’ve switched allegiances to his stepson, Antonio, who, by the way, was sleeping with Donoso, the mark. After we crashed, Antonio shot Donoso’s long-suffering wife, who, you may be interested to know, was the one trying to have her husband kidnapped in the first place, and, who, I may add, was also sleeping with Antonio.’
    ‘Doof, doof, doof, doof, doof, doof, doof-doof-doof!’ Gwen sang the theme from
EastEnders
before collapsing in giggles.
    Jack glanced at her in concern. ‘How do you know all of that?’ he asked Cash.
    Nodding towards the chapel, Cash tapped his earpiece. ‘A lovely young woman told me so.’
    Peering round the bus, Jack confirmed what he already knew: Dana had used her powers of persuasion and her covert connections to infiltrate the CIA’s unit, and she was one of the women he’d spotted undercover on the chapel steps.
    Across the courtyard a handful of Asiro’s soldiers had taken cover behind overturned food carts. Jack caught a glimpse of Isela peering over the top of the belfry wall.
    Beneath the tower, the peasant women had stripped off their colourful rags to expose their black unmarked tactical uniforms. Jack watched as one of the soldiers was setting up to climb the tower.
    ‘Shit,’ said Jack. ‘Cash and Hollis, cover me. Eva, Vlad and Gwen get Sam into the house in the compound and wait for me there.’
    ‘Where are you going?’ asked Vlad, already helping Sam to his feet.
    ‘I’m going to rescue a princess from her tower.’
    *
    Jack dodged bullets across the piazza, diving behind an upturned table outside the café, whose doors were wide open and its windows blown out. Taking fire from Antonio’s men, Jack darted to the cover of one of the arches.
    On the other side of the courtyard, four CIA ‘vendors’ had tipped over their souvenir and trinket carts and were using them as barricades. These soldiers were shooting at Jack along with the other guards from the hacienda.
    It’s the red T-shirt, thought Jack.
    Throwing himself to the ground, Jack rolled behind an upturned food cart, its vendor crouched behind the steaming metal bucket.
    ‘Who the hell are you?’ the guard snarled, raising his gun at Jack, who whacked him with a steaming container of pinto beans. The man screamed, dropped his weapon, and swiped wildly at his face trying to stop the red-hot beans sticking to his skin.
    ‘None of your business,’ said Jack, grabbing his gun.
    Flipping its handle, Jack struck the vendor’s forehead, knocking him unconscious. Crouching low as he ran towards the tower, Jack pulled on a black Che T-shirt from another cart. A bit tight, but it would do. He yanked two grenades from an injured soldier’s belt as he sprinted to the edge of the arched veranda.
    Dropping low, Jack ran to the last archway before the tower. The rapid gunfire flying across the courtyard was not abating . Staring out at the piazza, Jack knew the shooting wasn’t going to stop until there was no one left standing. But Jack didn’t have that kind of time. He could already feel his mind slipping, his concentration fragmenting, his stomach doing double flips. Glancing at the tower, he could see the soldier beginning to climb up the wall to reach the girl.
    Five hours exactly before all seven chimneys were sealed.
    Jack needed to stop this gunfight at the Inca corral. So he pulled the pins on the grenades. Keeping his fingers on the triggers, he raised his hands in the air and walked out into the middle of the courtyard. With shots chipping at his feet, Jack tossed the grenades up into the air above his head.

66
    AS THE GUNFIRE worsened beneath Isela, the clanging amplified in her head. She was comfortable with her heightened perceptions so she thought nothing of their intensity.
    She couldn’t believe her eyes when the
cóndor
leapt from behind the cover of the arched veranda and tossed two grenades high above his head, scuttling Antonio’s guards who were nearest to him. The American soldiers threw themselves to the ground behind their barricades. The explosion