The Last Bazaar (2 page)

Kono staggered away as he grabbed for her, a finger grazing her arm. Fighting to stay focused, she forced the flooding fear from her mind. Debilitating terror was what these bastards worked to achieve. They would not beat her so easily.

“You think you’re gonna get out that way?” The man nodded at the window, knowing her only exit. “Take a look. Hey, don’t worry, I can wait.” He studied his knuckles.

Kono inched over to the open window, enjoying the breeze on her hot skin. One look outside showed several craggy upturned faces. They were waiting for her.

“Just scoop you up and carry you back inside.” The man’s voice dripped malice. “Save us a job fitting you in that coffin though.”

Kono prayed for inspiration. “Why are you all doing this?” Maybe help was on its way.

“Those guys downstairs? Well, they enjoy the payday. Me? I just love breaking beautiful things.”

Kono shuddered. “Webb sent men before. They all ended up in the ground.”

“Que sera.” He spread his arms. “I don’t care.”

Trapped, out of options, Kono prayed for some luck. She broke for the window, expecting and receiving no reaction from the man taunting her. She climbed over the window sill, looking down into the blank eyes of those who waited. Then she did something totally unexpected.

She jumped.

Angling to the right, she caught hold of the water pipe with both hands. It took an enormous amount of courage to relinquish her hold on the window and dangle above the street but a moment later she was doing just that and crab-walking up the side of her own building, ignoring next door’s small but functional balcony. Even if she gained entry she would be no better off and poor old Mr. Calabretta would end up dead too. The roof lay only a few feet away though and soon she reached for the gutter to help pull herself over the top. The metal felt thin and sharp, almost coming away with her weight. But Kono held on, breathing hard, feeling gravel scraping her belly as she squirmed over the top but knowing that meant she still lived.

Quickly, she glanced down. One of the men was speaking into a two-way.

Kono rose, suddenly screaming in shock as her taunter’s face rose above the roof’s edge. He had followed right behind her and now reached out with extreme confidence.

“It’s a nice bit of exercise, sweets, but we’re getting short of time.”

“Fuck you.”

Kono started to scream. The noise would send cops, she knew. Maybe they were already on the way. The roof of her apartment was flat, concrete, and empty. No outlets to run behind, no air-conditioning ducts. For a moment she paused, again a scared rabbit caught in the headlights of this man’s smug proficiency, but then the sound of sirens split the morning air. She leaned over and vented her lungs.

Her heart leapt. She had a chance, the sound of sirens galvanizing her like nothing else could. And the man saw it. Determination replaced the superior set to his features and he quickly darted at her. For once, Kono anticipated it and jumped out of range. Her eyes swept the roof.
What would Drake do?
Again that phrase, keeping her alive, sharpening her wits. She would not panic. But catchphrase or not it offered a solution.

Jump.

Kono ran hard, the force of her launch spinning tiny bits of gravel out from the back of her heels. The edge of the roof came up fast, but there wasn’t even a millisecond to spend entertaining doubt; she leapt across the gap, landing askew on top of the next roof. Pain exploded in her ankle and she tumbled. Thoughts of Mano and his absence flashed through her mind. She ended up against the far edge, crawling, groaning and then sitting up to watch her would-be killer make his leap perfectly and then approach.

“Too bad.” The outer smugness was back, though the eyes were dead. “A millimeter either way, like me, and you’d still be running.
Pfft.
Into the horizon.” He keyed his two-way. “Move around to the side of the apartment. I’ll kick her off the roof.”

And just like that this man decided her fate. The morals of it meant nothing. His principles were below gutter-level. To have lived for this long, experienced all that she had, harbored hopes and dreams and made plans—all for this. To be kicked ignominiously off a two-story roof.

“Wait.” Kono held up her hands. “Dude, just . . . wait.”

“Be quick with your pleadings.” The man checked his watch. “I have someone else to kill at one o’clock.”

“Oh, well,” Kono had never pleaded in her life and wasn’t about to start now. “If that’s how it is . . .”

Without knowing exactly what she was doing she kicked out with her heels, aiming every ounce of power at the man’s knees. It was all she had, all she could do. The movement itself sent trails of fire through her damaged ankle. The impact caused explosions. But it also produced a raft of emotions to finally emerge from the empty-seeming man—pain and hatred and several doses of anguish.

“You . . . you bitch!”

“Oh the temerity,” Kono struggled to her feet despite her own discomfort, “that the poor little victim should fight back.

The man stumbled toward her now, experiencing some agony of his own. Kono in turn stumbled away, the two of them performing an unusual dance. Inch by inch she backed away until the edge of the roof lay at her back.

“The good news is you didn’t break my leg.” The man grimaced as he spoke. “Bad news? You’re still head-diving off this roof.”

He leapt at her, trying to force her into a sudden step back, but Kono didn’t move. Not at first, instead she waited and waited until the man was close enough to place his hands on her waist and just push. Their eyes locked together.

“You feel nothing?” she asked.

“Life gave me no conscience,” the man said evenly. “You’d be surprised how many people it dealt similar gifts too. Right from the top of the food chain and downward, believe me.”

“You think it is a gift?”

“Depends on your perspective.” The man glanced over her shoulder. “Yours ain’t so hot, right now.”

“I pity you.” Kono said. “I really do.”

The man hesitated for just a moment. “And would you forgive me?”

“For killing me? That’s possible. But for all the other murders you committed? No, for that you will rightly burn in Hell.”

“Oh, well.” The man laughed as he shoved her off the edge of the roof.

Kono grabbed the man’s shirt and threw herself backwards as he pushed. Normally he might have pulled away, resisted, but his damaged knee refused to play ball and he went over with her. If the man had been watching carefully he might have noticed that Kono’s fall wasn’t exactly directionless; nor was it without power. She thrust herself in one direction, away from him.

Her fall ended abruptly when she landed on a top floor balcony, screaming in pain but alive. His didn’t end at all until he smashed into the concrete floor of the alley below, his own scream cut off by instant death.

Kono groaned. The balcony was solid, railed and hid her from the eyes below. They would probably guess where she was and send someone up, but those sirens were awfully close now. Blue lights washed the walls of buildings. Would these killers risk capture?

Voices barked from the alley below.

“Sheeeyit! That’s Tone. Did the bitch do this to him?”

“Boss ain’t gonna be happy.”

“We don’t stop.” Another disembodied growl drifted up. “That’s the regimen.”

“So we’re cop killers now?”

“We are today.”

Kono felt chills radiate from her heart to her brain. The first thing that struck her was guilt. No way would she allow any cop to die whilst she hid out of sight. But how the hell was she going to escape on her injured ankle? The only answer lay in the small avenue of movement open to her.

Kono used a small plant pot to smash through her neighbor’s French windows, not caring how much noise she made. Then she slithered through into the thankfully empty apartment, piercing her skin with shards of glass but barely noticing. She rose and limped over to the kitchen area, quickly grabbing a carving knife. Not that it made her feel any better, but now she offered a slight threat at least. In a world where it was a dozen trained killers versus one mostly retired surf queen, any weapon could make all the difference. Kono wondered how long it would take them to race around the building and encounter the cops. Not long. She had to get out of here.

On second thoughts . . .

A light bulb moment made her stop and study the room. Mano and his associates were probably over at the Pentagon. How long would it take?

Not long.

Kono knew the protocols. She had called her brother many times, sometimes in peril and often in anger. She blamed him partly for the death of their mother, but knew she herself had made the decision to run away long before that. She had deserted the family home. But that had been easy when you expected your mother would always be there, right there, waiting and breathing and living and alive. You always knew you could go back.

It never occurred to Kono, a young girl, that one day her parents might not be there. Even though they wanted to be with every beat of their heart, every ounce of eternal love in their souls. But parents were fragile creatures too, as fragile as they believed their children would always be.

Kono tapped out Mano’s number and prayed for the big man to answer. He always did, of course, and this time was no different.

“Yeah? I’m busy, what do you want now?”

The brotherly greeting never changed. “I need you. They’re trying to kill me at my apartment. Jim’s dead. The cops . . . I don’t know. Help me, Mano.”

Her voice was pitched low, but Kinimaka’s came back at a high pitch.
“What? Your apartment?”

The line went crackly; there was panting and pounding and incoherent shouting. Kono knew she couldn’t hang around in one place so placed the receiver back in its cradle. Mano would either get here in time or he wouldn’t. She couldn’t change that, but it did make her feel good to have him on the way.

Maybe it was time to stop blaming her big brother for her own mistakes.

Yeah, maybe it is.

Kono approached the door and listened. The corridor outside was in silence. It occurred to her then that the door would be locked from the outside. She needed a key to exit. It took her another minute to find where the spare key was hung—next to all the other keys—and then to quietly and slowly unlock the door.

The corridor stretched away in both directions, quiet for now, but this was no time to linger. She limped out and pushed at the door that led to the stairs, cocked her head to listen. Again, no sounds. Three minutes had passed since her call to Mano. How long would it take SPEAR to get here?

Gunshots now echoed up from the street below. Kono inched her way to the staircase and put her face to the grimy window that looked outside. Her vision was limited, but part of the street in front of her apartment was visible. Jim’s cop car still stood there with its nasty embellishment, but next to it now sat two other cop cars. Kono could see their occupants were kneeling and bobbing, engaged in a firefight. Clearly, the cops were under attack and even she, a civilian, knew that men such as the ones hunting her would only tolerate that as part of a deeper plan.

They were coming for her.

Kono hobbled painfully down a floor to help mix it all up, then poked her head around the exit door. The first floor was also quiet. Could her stalkers have taken the elevator?
Please, please be on the elevator.

She turned back to survey the scene outside, staying low. Four cops knelt behind two cars with unknown assailants pinning them down from the side of the building and, Kono guessed, several other obstacles. It was a play for time that the cops wouldn’t be expecting. As Kono watched and hoped and tried to keep her weight on one leg a sudden
ping
announced that the elevator had arrived.

And it stood right next to the staircase.

Questions hit Kono, quickly followed by doubts and second guesses. She was not a soldier who could make snap decisions. If she went up she would be trapped again and they might hear her. If she exited the building she would be exposed in the street. If she stayed here . . . only fortune would save her.

Don’t overthink, just do.
Kono chose freedom, placed her hand on the exit handle and pushed. Instantly, street noises flooded her ears. Shouting and shooting and men screaming into radios. What she hadn’t counted on was the sounds being overheard by those who hunted in the corridor. There was a sudden banging and the door behind her smashed open, followed by a gun barrel. Kono hobbled out into the street.

Caught in the middle of a gunfight she suddenly wished she had thrown on a scarf or a hat or even a big overcoat. Anything to hide her identity. Because out here, now, the gunmen recognized her easily.

“Shoot her!”

Kono slipped along the side of the building toward the cops. The glass window at her back exploded as men inside shot through, trying to take her head off. Shards attacked her exposed flesh. She ducked, the sudden movement buckling her ankle and sending her to the floor. A bullet slammed into the brick wall at her back. Gunmen were slipping out from behind obstacles to ensure she was properly in their sights. One whirled as a cop’s bullet entered his chest. His cohorts stepped closer, uncaring.

Kono looked up. The sky was black.

At least I went down fighting.

Shots rang out, the ground around her convulsing with lead. She waited for the first deadly missile to enter her body, strangely impassive, knowing she had put up a good final battle. It was the heavily strenuous sound of gunfire that finally got through to her—no way was that coming from the gunmen. Looking around she caught her breath to see two black helicopters slowly descending, black-clad men leaning out and loosing endless salvos of bullets into the area where the gunmen had taken shelter. The volley seemed endless and louder than anything she had ever heard, the ground actually churning beneath its ferocity. Several bodies lay sprawled out, but more were returning fire, laying down an avenue of escape. Then rappel lines spiraled down toward the ground, quickly followed by men who unleashed compact sub-machine guns as they slithered to earth. Within seconds they landed, squatted and lined up their weapons. Two broke away to make a bee-line for Kono.

“I . . . I . . .” she didn’t quite know what to say.

Mano Kinimaka lowered his face helmet. “You okay, sis?”

“I . . . I think so.”

Hayden Jaye checked her over quickly. “Nothing seems broken. Get after
them!
” she shouted at a black-clad agent who had been looking to cover them. He quickly veered toward the gunmen.

“All this firepower,” Kono said incredulously. “For me?”

Kinimaka shrugged. “Dead men don’t shoot back,” he growled. “At least not until the Russians or Chinese fuck up in some laboratory somewhere.”

Kono stared at him, but Mano only smiled. “It’s good to see you, sis.”

Hayden pointed to the wall. “Let’s get something solid at your back. Are there any other gunmen?”

Kono nodded. “In the apartment block. First floor staircase.” It occurred to her then that only two members of the SPEAR team were present. “Where’s the rest of you guys?”

“Friggin’ Drake took ’em all on some kinda track day.” The big Hawaiian shrugged. “Go figure.”

Hayden radioed in the potential hiding place of the remaining gunmen as Kinimaka reached down for Kono. At first she tried to stand and hobble around, but her brother was having none of it and he scooped her up in his arms.

“Let’s get you to a hospital. Get that looked at.”

Hayden fell in alongside as they headed for a chopper. The original cop car still remained in place with its grisly adornment, a terrible reminder of what Kono had faced.

“I have to say,” Hayden said morosely. “You’ve handled a terrible ordeal, Kono. And you came out alive. How did you do it?”

Kono thought about all that had transpired that morning, all she had survived. The initial memory of Drake’s catchphrase that had galvanized her into action and survival, and now the second little slogan she associated with the SPEAR team entered her head.

“Drake made me do it,” she said with a weak smile.

Kinimaka groaned. “Oh no, don’t you start with that too.”

Hayden clucked at him. “Hey, whatever works, right?”

“I guess.”

Kono buried her head in Kinimaka’s shoulder. Her ankle throbbed badly but she would never say so. At least one good man had lost his life today, and Kono would never forgive herself for that and never forget.

“Will it ever end?” she said as the chopper started to rise.

Hayden set her jaw. “It’s ending already,” she said. “The Pythians are falling apart. They’re done. All we have to do now is catch Webb.”

“And where is he?”

“Pretty soon,” Kinimaka said. “He’ll be sitting tight inside a black site, king of all the cockroaches.”

Kono said nothing, painfully aware that her brother’s answer revealed the real truth—that they had no idea where Tyler Webb currently was and thus, no way of ending his reign of terror. She ground her teeth hard as the pain intensified.

Hayden cursed as her cellphone rang. “Shit, can’t I get a minute’s rest?” She put it to her ear. “Yeah, what?”

Kono watched her face change as someone spoke fast. Hayden’s demeanor suddenly transformed into an expression of absolute shock and then pure determination.

“We’re coming in!” she cried. “Call the troops. This is big. Get everyone together and prepare a plane. Fully loaded. No way can we miss this.”

Kinimaka inclined his head questioningly.

Hayden clenched her fists. “The terrorists are gathering,” she said. “It’s time to go kick some radical ass, Mano. And I mean
all of it.”