Authors: David Leadbeater
Drake forced his limbs to stop working, wanting to charge forward with all guns blazing. He reached out to both Kinimaka and Dahl too, steadying them.
“Timing,” he said.
Hayden, Smyth and Lauren looked a little beat up. Bruises stood out on their foreheads and blood trickled from their lips. Their bonds were tight, painfully so, causing them to grimace in pain with every movement. But thank God they were still alive and Ramses enjoyed his awful spectacles. This entire situation was about to explode big time. Drake checked his guns, his knives, his spare ammo. He checked the positions of Ramses, of Webb and of Robert Price. He fixed Kenzie with a momentary stare, wondering how she might take advantage of such an unforeseen dilemma.
All the while, their three teammates were herded amid a gaggle of squawking guards ever closer to the stinking caiman pit. One ran ahead and started working on the padlock that allowed entry. Ramses walked behind them, an extremely attentive Akatash at his side. The two men now sported AK47s, borrowed from guards. All of a sudden the strangely cheery atmosphere of the bazaar had turned very deadly indeed.
Drake and his colleagues drifted ever closer, using the crowd for cover and remaining as placid as they could. This outcome was all about surprise, made harder by the clear fact that everyone was expecting something to happen.
Hayden stumbled. Smyth bent down to steady her and received a rifle-butt to the back of the neck. He didn’t go sprawling, but took it with a glare of anger, making sure Hayden was stable before staggering to his own feet. Drake dogged the guards now, still amid the crowd, and was surprised when Kenzie put an arm around him.
“You might be surprised, soldier boy, but this shocks even me. What they’re about to do.”
“They’re terrorists,” he mumbled. “What did you expect?”
“Professionalism. Restraint. This is a public forum despite its secrecy.”
“These are the people you chose to run with.”
“I take my own path. I am not like them. I can’t help what they do in private or among themselves but this, feeding humans to animals . . . this is beyond reprehensible.”
Drake nodded. Maybe this woman did have some heart after all, buried beneath all those layers of hardiness, hatred and dreams of vengeance.
“I will help you,” Kenzie said. “Until they are free or we’re dead.”
“And then?”
“Don’t get in my way.”
Drake grimaced inside. Somehow, he believed she might help them and then try to kill them. With this woman it made sense, and at least she was open about it. The guards reached the edge of the pit and halted, waiting patiently for Ramses to pick his way through them as their captives continued to struggle. At length, the Prince of Terrorists stared down into the hidden depths of the deep hole.
“Ahh, my friends, you do look hungry down there!”
Spontaneous laughter broke out. Hayden stood upright, no fear on her face as she eyeballed Ramses. Smyth moved next to Lauren as if his body might shield hers from harm. Drake wondered briefly how the angry soldier might have been surprised, then decided it didn’t matter. Tension settled over the crowd as most of them watched each other, waiting for some kind of reaction. Hands hovered over weapons. Hammers clicked back on dozens of guns as the tension rose high enough to trigger lightning.
Ramses was ready.
“Throw them into hell!”
Drake stood as close as he dared without arousing suspicions. It was whilst he scanned a dozen different positions and possibilities, the guards’ faces and stances, that he noticed the red flash among the nearby trees.
For the second time.
One moment it was there, the next it was gone. The distraction cost him though—as the guards pushed their bound prisoners to the edge of the pit and only then slit their bonds. Smyth immediately lashed out, as did Lauren and Hayden, but their feet were already slipping over the edge, dirt and vegetation crumbling beneath them, the hands of the guards driving them, the unstoppable force of sheer momentum thwarting them.
Time slowed, stretching out like elastic. Everyone moved. Everything changed. Drake raised a rifle in one hand, a Glock in the other and charged the guards. Dahl battered men aside and raced headlong toward his falling friends.
Caimans writhed and churned, their mouths agape, slashing.
Alicia helped Dahl’s charge by encumbering the enemy. Ramses looked surprised, recognizing them from the jungle, then began to grin. All distances were halved even as Hayden, Smyth and Lauren scrambled to stay at the rim of the pit, and as the guards kicked at their chests, sending them tumbling helplessly head-over-heels straight down.
Drake fired, the bullets hitting their marks. Kenzie picked up a dropped Uzi and sent three guards flying into the pit, their chests pumping blood. Dahl hit men so hard they were lifted off their feet. The crowd parted all around them, terrorist leaders and decadent procurers unused to putting themselves in the line of fire, now showing fear. Drake finally approached the edge of the pit edge and found his way blocked by eight guards, Ramses and Akatash.
Shit, we’ve left it too late. God help them down there . . .
Despite their desperate efforts they would not make it in time.
Then, like a streak of lightning, like the Ninja she truly was, Mai Kitano came speeding out of the jungle. Leaping from a standing start she jumped up to the top of the railings that surrounded the pit, balancing on a pinhead for a second, and then launched herself through the air, over the top of the pit, and into the backs of the guards, scattering them like bowling pins.
Alicia gawped for many reasons. “Fuck. Me.” She used two sentences.
Drake leapt high, then was among the enemy punching and kicking, firing a shot. Dahl plowed through. Alicia elbowed one and kneed another in the crotch. Kinimaka bellowed with rage. Without a moment’s hesitation those four leapt over the edge of the caiman pit and followed their downed colleagues into its lethal depths.
Drake slipped feet-first down a hard-packed slope, hindered by tree roots and exposed boulders. The pit was wide even at its narrowest point and God only knew what incredible skills Mai had employed to leap clear across it. Dahl careened down only a foot to Drake’s left, unable to keep a wide grin off his face, and Drake remembered his intense disappointment at missing the caiman fight of earlier.
“You are fucking crazy!” he yelled.
Dahl only grinned even wider.
Down they went, bouncing, scraping, jolting bruises already raw from the ghost ships sliding escapade. Drake remembered what Dahl had then said:
Drake made me do it
, a new and not entirely adored team catchphrase.
Well, Hayden might feel bloody different about it now.
Below, huge black caimans writhed and splashed, rippling under water or breaking through the waves. Tails lashed at the sides of the pit. Some tried to crawl out whilst others simply waited with jaws apart. Smyth hit the water first, unable to control his fall, going straight under without a word. Lauren tumbled in next, across the back of a caiman. Hayden flailed last, almost halting her descent by grabbing hold of a jutting branch but screaming when it snapped clean off. The caiman she landed on broke her fall, its jaws snapping shut as if in pain.
Suddenly, the bottom of the pit became a churning, screaming mass.
Drake took a final glance upward before joining the incredible fray—above, guns were being trained down upon them and spectators lined the rim of the pit, Ramses among them. Then he flew off an outcropping, sailed through mid-air, and splashed down into the very center of the roiling waters. Underneath, it was a barely penetrable gloom. Snapping jaws passed an inch from his nose, their fury felt even in this subaquatic murk. Drake powered upward, breaking the surface and blowing water from his mouth and nose. The visage that faced him was harsh, unforgiving, and very hungry.
“Alicia,” he spluttered at her. “Move!”
A caiman darted in from the left, cutting a swathe between them. Drake had valiantly kept hold of his Glock and now fired two shots into the beast’s flank. It rolled, blood leaking out, and ducked away. Ahead, Dahl had already gained a foothold, standing upon two stones jutting out of the bank, a wriggling predator held in each hand. He struggled to hold the beast’s scaly tails, jaws gnashing close to his nose.
Drake fired at a second beast as it set upon Lauren. Smyth rolled with another. Hayden went under as a black shape landed on her shoulders, its tail whipping the waves. Dahl somehow managed to punch one adversary right in the face, then sniffed as it exhibited no reaction other than to somehow get even angrier.
Alicia swam in circles, unable to locate a foe or rescue anyone. Finally, her attention was grabbed by a set of eyes floating toward her—a caiman waiting to pounce. She reeled back as it struck, slamming Kinimaka in the process. Her pistol went off, thudding into the animal’s flesh. Drake hit the bank and pushed upward, gaining a little traction. To one side Dahl still stood, and now to the other Kinimaka climbed hard out of the water, twin waterfalls dripping from his shoulders, a huge black caiman held in his hands.
Incensed, he stared it right in the eyes.
“Try to bite me would you? Try to bite my girl? Not today, bud.”
He held its powerful jaws away and wide open. After a moment his eyes met Dahl’s. The Swede was already on the same wavelength, eager to proceed. At the same time they swung their captives. The sound of them meeting in mid-air made even Drake cringe. The twin beasts dropped back into the deluge and didn’t twitch again.
Drake fired at another caiman. Hayden fought one off with her bare hands, but would only survive moments longer without help. Kinimaka launched himself high off the ledge, a human cannonball, and came down on top of the caiman with the most enormous splash. Water exploded everywhere. Kinimaka, the caiman, and Hayden all vanished. Dahl spotted another hunting marauder and hammered down onto its flank. Alicia fired a bullet into another.
Drake eyed the steep banks of the pit. For the first time since they jumped in, it was time to look for a way out.
But high above, gun barrels bristled, lining the pit. And Ramses stood up there with one arm raised.
The single word sent chills shooting toward Drake’s heart.
“Fire!”
Like death’s shadow she slipped among the guards, a knife in each hand, corpses left lying in her wake, but the simple crush of bodies between her and the edge of the pit prevented her from reaching her friends. The journey to this part of the world had been a long one for Mai Kitano, made possible by Hayden’s provision of coordinates, but the last thing she expected when she arrived was to have to pull her teammates from deadly danger. Now, she jabbed, she thrust, she darted to and fro like smoke and magic woven together; she ignored the pain of not-so-old knife and bullet wounds, the throbbing scar across her face, putting her friends first and the rest of her life on hold. As she stalled, as she despaired of ever seeing them alive again, a stranger appeared at her side.
“Mine’s bigger than yours.”
The woman wielded a katana, given back to her by Yorgi who had been concealing the Samurai sword beneath his robes. She started to forge a path through the throng.
Guns appeared in several hands but Mai made quick work of their owners, flitting among them. As even Kenzie started to stall they neared the edge of the pit. Ramses stood only two figures removed, a crowd around him. Mai saw other guards rushing toward them and, again, felt her heart sink down toward the caiman pit itself.
“Still too many,” she muttered.
Gunfire erupted. Yorgi, standing alone, made himself a target to draw some of the killers away. Several guards fell, bleeding. Mai and Kenzie forged a few steps closer. Then Kenzie’s katana was bludgeoned out of her hands and Mai received a debilitating blow to the back of the neck. For the last time, their progress faltered.
Stopped.
Screams echoed up from the bottom of the pit. Laughter spread along the top. Ramses was holding up one huge arm, a bear’s paw it seemed, and chatting to those around him about what would happen when they unleashed two hundred rounds of lead. Some were taking bets, others craning their necks for a better view. Mai ignored the agony, met Kenzie’s eyes and nodded.
“For our friends.”
Kenzie gave her a tight-lipped smile. “If you say so.”
Then, from out of nowhere, shot a lithe, black streak, a living blade that chopped, tore and slashed through their opponents as if they weren’t even there. Mai stared open-mouthed as Beauregard Alain squeezed among guards and other fighters, beyond her own capabilities, incapacitating them faster than they could blink and sending them to their knees.
A gap opened up.
Mai shot through it, flanked by Kenzie and Beauregard, heroes shouting and screaming and coming to the rescue. Guards found their flesh turning red, appendages severed, and then turned to run without even knowing the cause. Guns clattered to the floor. Ramses turned and saw the danger, his bodyguard Akatash wrenching him away at the very last moment. Mai kicked three people over the edge of the pit. Kenzie buried her retrieved katana into a shoulder and then a skull. Beauregard broke limbs and spleens and throats and ribs. His opponents died before their brains registered the fact, expressions of shock engraved forever on their faces.
Mai reached the edge of the pit and stared down. Drake was already halfway up, the others following. Alicia was shouting at Dahl, trying to encourage the Swede to leave behind the caiman that he was dragging along with him. Nothing had changed there then. Yorgi’s machine gun rang out again, further scattering the guards, organizers and attendees of the last bazaar.
Everything had been blown to hell and now time was the vital factor.
“Hurry!” she screamed into Drake’s face.
“Sprite!” Alicia cried back. “Where the fuck . . . ?”
“Tell you later, Taz. Just move your knobblies, fast as you can.”
Alicia moved fast enough, her eyes riveted on the scene at the top of the pit. “Is that Kenzie? And . . . and Beau? Fuck me. What is this—an alternate reality?”
“Your
desired
reality,” Kenzie said with a mischievous smile, reaching out a hand to help the Englishwoman over the top.
Alicia beamed at Mai, then at Kenzie and Beau. “Damn, I do like the sound of that.”
Then Drake put himself into her line of sight. “Really?”
The team struggled out of the caiman pit, dripping, bruised and tired but all in one piece. Dahl hauled his prize up and then watched it slink off into the jungle. “Guys, when we get home we should get one of those for the gym. What a workout!”
Drake paused for breath and a moment to take in the scene. Shocked, humbled, overawed, he saw the entire SPEAR team gathered around him, together at last and again, united in battle.
Family. It had been such a long time.
“You guys,” he said. “Thanks for being here.”
Beauregard and Kenzie offered tight-lipped smiles. “Seriously.” He offered a hand out to each of them. “You helped save our lives. The SPEAR team owes you one.”
Then Hayden stepped to the fore. Dahl immediately gave her a fast update on events. Her face blanched terribly when she heard about the bomb and that they had no way of communicating the information.
“Time to get paid,” she said, indicating the uproar that had become of the bazaar. “Targets first. Let’s move out.”
Drake scanned the heads for those they needed. “Webb.” He pointed. “And there, Price. C’mon.”
Alicia jogged alongside Beau. “So Webb’s aware you’re a plant?”
“A what?”
“Undercover. An agent.”
“Yes, but it will not bother him. This is what he wanted. The madman has everything he needs to slink away and locate these ancient treasures.”
With weapons out and eyes glued to their surrounds the SPEAR team plunged into the running throng. Dilemmas prodded at Drake from every angle—terrorists ran alongside him clutching their new purchases and staying close to their personal bodyguards, but Drake’s quarry was far, far more important. Kenzie didn’t seem to share that value, swinging her katana at almost everybody, most likely seeing it as a new way of extracting an old vengeance. Drake turned a blind eye, not wanting to test that morality for himself.
The jungle practically shook as hundreds of feet pounded its verdant byways. Soaked leaves dripped with water and slime. Vegetation, churned up by the runners, floated in the air. Sunlight dappled the clearings. Boutiques and stalls flashed by to either side, some destroyed and one being ransacked, its owners killed. Drake tried to keep tabs on their objectives, but the crush of bodies made it increasingly hard. Twice he had to fend off attackers, finishing them with bullets. Smyth followed suit, snarling into their faces.
“No,” Hayden shouted at his side. “They’ve split apart . . . look! We’ll take Price.”
With that the team split in two, together for so short a time, and Drake concentrated his efforts on chasing down Tyler Webb. His hopes were raised when he saw that Webb was chasing Ramses, the terrorist prince surrounded by guards.
Two pricks, one stone.
He flexed his fingers and checked to see who was with him.
Dahl. Alicia. Mai and Beau.
Not a bad set.
They ran hard through the streets of the bazaar, Drake noticing that several of the attendees were now fighting each other.
Rival factions?
Who cared? You didn’t get this kind of action at Comic Con. He elbowed another attacker in the face and threw a second against a tree. Dahl performed a two-leg flying kick at another, earning a shake of the head from both Mai and Beau. But the guard didn’t get up. The Swede closed the gap between themselves and Webb.
“Time to pay up, you Pythian bastard,” he said. “Time to meet your fate.”
Then something screamed toward them.
“RPG!” Drake cried thickly, throwing his body to the floor.