Crusader's Gold

SEVENTEEN

Alicia reacted with pure animal instinct. As a razor-edged waterfall rained down to her left, she upended the table and shoved it through the new gap. Two men, already leaping through, smashed head-first into the makeshift weapon, instantly collapsing. Alicia reached down for one of their discarded weapons; Russo scooped up the other. Behind them, Crouch shoved the false street preacher backwards so that he fell over a table. Tourists scrambled aside as he fell, arms and legs pinwheeling. Through the ruined front door came a swarm of operatives, all carrying weapons with barrels aimed at the floor.

Alicia knew that wouldn’t last.

“Down!” she yelled. “Get the fuck down!”

Most of the café’s patrons were already scrambling to the floor. Those who couldn’t or wouldn’t, gawped. Alicia snatched a fleeting glimpse of a man calmly starting to raise his ceramic cup to his lips as the bullets started to fly. Crouch flung himself head-first, becoming tangled among a nest of tables.

Behind the bar, shelves crammed full of cups and saucers, flavored syrups and cafetiéres, all set against a mirrored background for effect, started to bounce and shatter and break. A gleaming, expensive-looking coffee machine fractured down the middle, perforated with bullets. Staff screamed, ducking fast.

Alicia was aware that the assault was happening on three sides, but still the hardest problem here was avoiding civilian casualties. As a third man stepped through the window to her left she put a bullet into his stomach, then grabbed him and spun him around. Bullets thwacked into his body without ceremony, answering her first question. Russo was down on one knee, aiming high, showering their attackers with chunks of falling ceiling. Alicia used the dead merc as body armor to glance around the corner of the devastated window. Outside, a narrow street was bordered by a small diameter railing with one of Venice’s signature canals lying beyond, the gilded end of a gondola just passing beyond sight. There was a gap of roughly twelve feet to the sheer stone façade of the building on the other side of the canal.

No sign of mercs.

“Out!”

She crouched alongside Russo, signaling to Caitlyn to start crawling underneath the chair legs toward her. Every second that passed brought the mercs a little closer. A bullet shaved the edge of a table beside her. More barrels were starting to swing her way.

Alicia saw their moment of opportunity rapidly closing. She grabbed Caitlyn’s outstretched wrist and pulled hard, employing all her strength to fling the girl toward the jagged gap. Caitlyn squealed but spun outside, jacket snagging on a glass spike.

Crouch heaved another table toward their assailants. It was all about distraction and escape now — they couldn’t match firepower with firepower. A merc coming in from his left had already reached him. Crouch spun fast, ready to chop down at a gun hand but found himself faced by two whirling blades.

Alicia cringed. What the fuck?

One blade chopped into Crouch’s jacket, drawing blood, the other simultaneously spinning across his neck, missing by a whisker. Crouch staggered, shocked and momentarily unfocused. The merc was a woman, of medium build and height and with short-cropped hair — a black stubble. Muscles bulged around her body armor.

Chick means business, Alicia thought and fired off a few rounds in her direction. The clip on her weapon was running low and needed saving.

Healey rolled into view from behind the bar, catching at Crouch’s sleeve and dragging the man away from the female merc. Her cry of annoyance was more than primeval anger, it was a velociraptor at play. Alicia considered taking her out of the action, but before she could decide both Healey and Crouch were with them, pushing toward the window.

“Move!” Russo cried.

The mountain laid down some covering fire. Alicia stood at his side. Mercs dived every which way. The one who reached them met Alicia’s front kick — a blow that broke ribs, yet still he forged on. Alicia smashed his face with the rifle’s butt before kicking him over on to his back.

“Lay down and beg,” she said. “There’s a good boy.”

Russo pushed her backward and she jumped over the lip of the window, into the narrow Venice street. Ahead of her tourists stared, most with backpacks or hand in hand with their partners. Another gondola plied the canal, with Caitlyn leaning over the metal railing toward it as if planning to flag it down.

“A fucking gondola?” Alicia shouted. “Are you mad? We could walk faster.”

Healey dragged her away, flushing a little as if the idea had actually been his. Probably had. Alicia backed away from the devastated café fast, weapon raised as Crouch took point and led the retreat. Tourists jumped out of the way. The street was narrow enough to rub shoulders with most of them. Alicia and Russo shouted at them to lie down.

As if to prove their point mercs poured out of the café window, some shooting without caution even as they fell to the floor. Bullets hissed everywhere. A youth took a hit to the backpack, staggering but uninjured. Another screamed as bullets smashed into the wall beside his head. Alicia leapt over in an instant, took him by the scruff of the jacket, and hurled him shrieking over the railing and into the canal. Better there than dead. Russo dropped to one knee and returned fire. Crouch shouted that there was a bridge ahead, a way across the canal and off the deadly street.

Alicia took a glance. A bridge in Venice of course wasn’t merely a bridge, it was an ornate arch spanning the greenish water, most of them imitating the Rialto Bridge of the Grand Canal. Alicia pushed people against the nearby walls as she backed toward it. The mercs followed in a group, and non-military part of Alicia’s brain now caught up with the action. Who had orchestrated this? Kenzie? Riley? A brand new maniac?

Take your pick.

She reached the bridge with Russo a step behind and rushed across. Bullets pinged all around and cracked stone. Puffs of mortar dust floated through the air in front of her. They were fortunate the mercs were running and shooting at the same time, because if one of them suddenly grew a brain and stopped to take aim…

That made Alicia focus again on who might be following them. The abruptness of the attack surely ruled Kenzie out. The team hadn’t come close to deciphering where the Hercules was yet, so why would the barmy bitch attack them so violently? Also, she had shown restraint back at the Hagia Sophia.

Then why did she go and kill poor old Naz?

The term “bug fuck crazy”, came immediately to mind, but maybe that was just her. Terms from her army days constantly spun around her head. And there was another—“army” which some said stood for Ain’t Really a Marine Yet. Alicia shrugged it off as the bridge ended, its easy steps leading to yet another of Venice’s tiny streets. Crouch picked up speed, shouting at people to get indoors. Buildings flashed by to both sides, most of them constructed of imposing stone. They entered a small square with a large parasol set in the center, tables and chairs all around. Other tiny streets led off in all directions.

“Only way to win is to lose them,” Crouch said as loud as he dared. Alicia saw he was still bleeding at the wrist, the flow constant enough to leave a trail on the floor. They twisted down two streets, both mere alleyways with crumbling stonework to both sides. At the end stood yet another street full of shops, graffiti-covered walls, and a herringbone patterned pathway. Crouch set off at a sprint. Alicia glanced behind them and, over Russo’s immense shoulders, saw their pursuers about twenty meters behind.

“Take one of ‘em out,” she said. “That’ll slow ‘em all.”

“I’m bloody trying!”

Alicia swore. “Motherfucker, if you’re not up for a shag and you can’t shoot to save your life what the hell are you good for?” Quickly, she aimed and fired. A merc tumbled, crying out, and then screaming as his comrades tripped over him. Russo cursed her.

Ahead, Crouch suddenly switched directions, turning at an abrupt ninety degree angle. Alicia reached the crossroads just as Crouch, Caitlyn and Healey put their heads down and added speed, sprinting straight for…

What? Oh, no… shit!

“That’s a canal! It’s just a fu—”

Alicia clammed up as Crouch entered a particularly slender tunnel with the words Sotoportego Catullo, emblazoned across the top. Beyond, all she could see were the still waters. Then, in mid-sprint, Crouch jumped. Healey and Caitlyn were a step behind. Alicia ran in their wake, finally seeing their purpose.

A frigging gondola.

Trusting Crouch’s judgement she readjusted her steps to make the leap as perfect as possible. The gondola was drifting along, even now tipping as Crouch, Caitlyn and Healey landed hard. The gondolier flipped over the side, too shocked even to utter a scream. Alicia jumped hard, seeing the end of the gondola already approaching, and landed inside the wooden vessel, aware that a meteor was about to strike.

Russo!