The Bones Of Odin (Matt Drake 1) (31 page)

“Thanks, man,” she said, heedless of the guards. “Was a cake-walk.”

Following the left-hand fork they headed down another corridor that ran away from their cell block. Kennedy summoned her wits.

Just survive, she thought. Just stay alive.

Frey received another call. “
What? They are at the vault? Moron! You . . . you . . .”
he sputtered, enraged.
“Hudson you . . . send in the whole army!”

An electronic shriek severed the connection abruptly, like a guillotine cutting off the head of a French Queen.

“Take them!” Frey turned on his guards. “Take them to the housing block. It seems there are more of your
friends
than we first thought, dear Kennedy. I’ll be back to tend your wounds later.”

With that, the deranged German marched away at pace. Kennedy became acutely aware she and Ben were now alone with four guards. “Keep going,” one of them prodded her towards a door at the end of the hallway.

When they passed through it, Kennedy blinked in surprise.

This part of the chateau had been completely gutted, a new arched roof built overhead, and small brick ‘houses’ lined two sides of the space. Little more than large sheds, there were about eight of them. Kennedy knew instantly that more than a handful of captives had passed through this place in its time.

A man worse than Thomas Kaleb?

Meet Abel Frey.

Her situation was worsening by the second. The guards were manoeuvring both Ben and her towards one of the houses. Once inside, it was game over.
You lose.

She could take one out, maybe even two. But four? She had no chance.

Unless . . ..

She peeked behind at the nearest guard, caught him appraising her. “Hey, is this it? You gonna put us in there?”

“Those are my orders.”

“Look. This kid here - he’s come all this way to save his sister. You think, um, maybe he could see her. Just once.”

“Orders from Frey. We’re not allowed.”

Kennedy let her gaze travel between all four guards. “So? Who’s to know? Recklessness is the spice of life, right?”

The guard snapped at her. “You blind? Haven’t you
seen
the cameras in this Goddamned place?”

“Frey’s busy fighting an army,” Kennedy smiled. “Why’d you think he took off so quick? You guys let Ben see his sister then maybe I’ll cut you some slack when the new bosses get here.”

The guards stole glances at each other. Kennedy put more persuasion in her voice and a bit more flirt in her body language and soon two of them were unlocking Karin’s door.

Two minutes later they brought her out. She staggered between them, looking drawn, her blonde hair bedraggled and her face defeated.

But then she saw Ben, and her eyes lit up like lightning in a storm. Strength seemed to pour back into her frame.

Kennedy caught her eyes as the two groups met, trying quickly to convey the urgency, the danger, the last chance scenario of her crazy idea all in one desperate glance.

Karin shrugged off the guards and snarled. “
Come get some, motherfuckers.
”

*****

Torsten Dahl led the charge, gun held out like a raised sword, shouting for all he was worth. Drake was at his side, sprinting at full pace before the entire vault wall had even collapsed. Smoke and debris plumed through the small space. As Drake ran, he sensed other coalition troops fanning out to either side. They were a rushing phalanx of death, bearing down on their enemies with deadly intent.

Drake’s instincts kicked in as the smoke swirled and thinned. To the left, a huddle of guards stood, frozen in fear, slow to react. He fired a burst into their midst, taking down at least three bodies. From ahead, some return fire was heard. Soldiers fell to his left and right, flailing hard into the collapsed wall with their momentum.

Blood sprayed right before his eyes as an Italian’s head was vaporised, the man not fast enough to dodge a bullet.

Drake dived for cover. Sharp rock and concrete shredded the flesh of his arms as he hit the floor. Rolling, he fired a few bursts into the corners. Men screamed. An exhibit exploded under intense gunfire. Old bones spun through the air in slow motion, like dust motes.

More gunfire from ahead and Drake saw a mass of moving men.
Jesus!
Frey’s army was right here, arrayed in its own deadly formation, and coming forward faster and faster as it sensed it had the edge.

*****

Karin used martial arts training to incapacitate her guards within seconds. Kennedy delivered a sharp backhand to her guard’s chin, then stepped in and head-butted him so hard
she
saw stars. After a second she saw that her second opponent, the fourth guard, had leapt away to create some space between them.

Her heart sank. So the fourth guard
had
been a bridge too far. Even for two of them.

The guard looked petrified as he raised his rifle. Finger trembling, he swept the area, seeking help. Kennedy held her hands palms outwards.

“Calm down, dude. Just stay calm.”

His trigger finger flexed in fear. A shot rang out, bouncing off the ceiling.

Kennedy cringed. Tension thickened the air into nervous soup.

Ben almost screamed as his mobile cut a raucous tune through the unease. Seether’s
Effigy
cranked up to the max.

The guard jumped too, squeezing off another involuntary shot. Kennedy felt the wind of the bullet pass by her skull. Pure fright riveted her to the spot.

Please,
she thought.
Don’t be an idiot. Remember your training.

Then Ben threw his phone at the guard. Kennedy saw him flinch and swiftly dropped to the floor to create more distraction. By the time the guard had batted the phone away and refocused, Kennedy had shouldered the third guard’s weapon.

Karin though, she had lived here for a while. She had seen and experienced hardship. She fired instantly. The guard staggered back as a red puff exploded from his jacket. Then a dark stain spread across his shoulder and he looked bewildered, then angry.

He fired, point-blank, at Ben.

But the shot went wild, the miss aided no doubt by the fact that his head exploded a millisecond before he pulled the trigger.

Behind him, framed by his spray of blood, stood Hayden, Glock in hand.

Kennedy looked at Ben and Karin. Saw them staring at each other with elation and love and sorrow. It seemed prudent to give them a minute. Then Hayden was at her side, nodding with relief at Ben.

“How’s he doin’?”

Kennedy winked. “He’ll be happier now you’ve arrived.”

Then she sobered. “We got other captives to rescue here, Hayden. Let’s get ‘em and quit this hell-hole.”

*****

The two armies met with a clash, the coalition force shooting their opponents where they stood, the Germans wielding knives and trying to get up close, fast.

For a moment Drake found this knife-play futile, utter madness, but then he remembered who their boss was. Abel Frey. The madman wouldn’t want his own side using bullets just in case they marred his priceless exhibits.

In amongst it, Drake felled foe after foe. Soldiers grunted and struck at each other all around him, using force that broke bones. Men screamed. Battle combat was a total melee. Survival was down to pure luck and instinct rather than any kind of skill.

As he fired and punched and scraped his way through, he caught sight of a figure up ahead. A whirling dervish of death.

Alicia Myles, cutting a swathe through the International super-troops.

Drake faced her. The battle noise fell away. They were near the back of the vault, Odin’s sarcophagus beside them, open now, a rack of spotlights arrayed above it.

“Well, well,” she laughed. “The Drakester. How’s it hanging, pal?”

“Same as ever.”

“Mmm, I remember. Though can’t say it
hung
for too long, eh? Nice catfight up on the ropes by the way. Not bad for a one-time soldier cum civilian
.
”

“You too. Where’s your BBF?”

“BBF?”

Two struggling soldiers crashed against Drake. He shoved them away with Alicia’s help, both of them savouring what was to come.

“Best Boyfriend Forever? Remember him? Milo?”

“Oh, yeah. Had to kill him. Bastard caught Frey and me doing the backstreet shuffle.” She sniggered. “Got mad. Got dead.” She made a face. “Just another dearly departed fool.”

“Who thought he could tame you,” Drake nodded. “I remember.”

“Why’d you have to be here now, Drake? I really don’t want to have to kill you.”

Drake shook his head in bemusement. “There’s a term -
beautiful liar.
Those two words sum everything about you up, Myles, better than any Shakespeare ever could.”

“So?” Alicia rolled up her sleeves with a grin and kicked off her shoes. “You ready to get your balls handed to you?”

Out of the corner of his eye Drake saw Abel Frey creeping away from them and shouting at someone called Hudson. Obviously Myles had been guarding them as the directed their forces, but now she had other priorities. Torsten Dahl, ever reliable, stepped in front of the crazy German and launched an attack.

Drake clenched his fists. “Not gonna happen, Myles”

FORTY-FIVE

LA VEREIN

Alicia shocked him by ripping off her T-shirt, swirling it around itself until it became as tight as a rope, then swinging it two-handed around his neck. He struggled, but her improvised harness dragged him in.

Straight into her rising knees - Thai-boxing style. One. Two. Three.

He twisted around the first. Turned again. The second crunched by his ribs. The third caught him fully in the balls. Pain thudded through his belly, sickening, and he fell onto his backside.

Alicia stood above him, grinning. “What did I say? Tell me, Drakey, what
exactly
did I say.” She made a motion of handing him something.

“Your balls.”

She dropped a hip and twisted, shot out a side-kick aimed at his nose. Drake brought up both hands and blocked it. Felt one finger dislocate. She turned so she was facing him dead-on, swinging one leg high and over in an arc, then bringing the heel sharply down towards his forehead.

Axe kick.

Drake rolled back, but the kick still struck his chest. And, with the force Myles could muster, it hurt like a bitch.

She stamped on his ankle.

Drake screamed. His body was being systematically broken, bruised and lamed. She was breaking him, piece by piece. Damn the civilian years. But then - could he even blame the lay-off? She had always been good. Had she always been
this
good?

Civilian break or not, he was still SAS, and she was painting the floor with his blood.

He shuffled backwards. A trio of fighters fell over him, crashing all around. Drake enjoyed the respite of elbowing a German in the throat. He heard cartilage crack, felt a little better.

He stood up, aware that she had let him. She danced from foot to foot, eyes lit from within by devilry and brimstone. Beyond her, Dahl and Frey and Hudson were locked together, wrestling across the side of Odin’s coffin, faces constricted with pain.

Alicia flicked out her T-shirt at him. It connected like a whip, made the left side of his face burn. She struck again and he caught it. Pulled with intense strength. She came stumbling into his arms.

“Hi.”

He jammed both thumbs just below her ears, pressing hard. Instantly she began to writhe, all semblance of cockiness gone. He was pressing the nerve cluster hard enough to cause any normal man to black out.

Myles bucked and kicked like a rodeo bull.

He pressed harder. Finally, she leaned back in his harsh embrace, letting him take her weight, limp, trying to compartmentalise the pain. Then she shot upright and thrust both thumbs under his armpits.

Straight into his own nerve cluster. Agony blasted through his body.

And so they were locked. Two fearsome enemies, battling through waves of pain, barely moving, staring into each other’s eyes like long-lost lovers, ‘til death do they part.

Drake grunted, unable to hide his suffering. “Crazy . . . bitch. Why . . . why work for this . . . this man?”

“Means . . . to . . . an . . . end.”

Neither Drake nor Myles would back down. Around them the fight began to draw to a close. More coalition troops remained standing than Germans. But they battled on. And Drake could vaguely see Dahl and Frey locked in a similar, deadly embrace, fighting to the end.

No solider interrupted them. The respect was too high. In privacy and impartially these battles would be decided.

Drake fell to his knees, taking Alicia with him. Black spots danced before his eyes. He realised that if she found a way to break his hold he was well and truly done for. Energy drained from him by the second.

He wilted. She pressed harder, that ultimate killer instinct digging in. His thumbs slipped away. Alicia fell forward, striking with an elbow to his chin. Drake saw it coming but didn’t have the energy to stop it.

Sparks exploded behind his eyes. He fell flat on his back, staring up at Frey’s gothic ceiling. Alicia crawled over and blocked his line of sight with her pain-riddled face.

None of the soldiers around them tried to stop her. This would not end until one of the combatants either called a truce or died.

“Not bad,” she coughed. “You still got it, Drake. But I’m still better than you.”

He blinked. “I know.”

“What?”

“You have . . . that edge. That killer instinct. Battle fury. Whatever. It makes the difference. That . . . that’s why I quit.”

“Why would that stop you?”

“I cared about something
outside
the job,” he said. “That changes everything.”

Her fist was raised, ready to crush his throat. A moment passed. Then she said: “A life for a life?”

Drake was starting to feel the energy trickling slowly back into his limbs. “After everything I’ve done today I think they owe me that much.”