Last Man Standing

CHAPTER TWELVE

Drake led the way back down the steep hill. With no clear way forward, the team had decided to scope out the town’s highpoints, reasoning that such intimate knowledge would come in handy later. The big church and its surrounding graveyard offered many places of concealment, but flushed out no assassins. Now, they were on their way to the train station and after that the castle. As a team, they weren’t afraid of being ambushed; they were confident in each other’s abilities to predict and react.

“Hey,” Alicia breathed down the line. “Wouldn’t it be easier to just go to the pub? You know, wait until all these assholes kill each other and then just take out the final man.”

“Possibly,” Dahl said with a big grin. “But where’s the fun in that?”

“My guess is, Coyote’s got something planned,” Drake said uneasily. “They’ve mined the damn town, for God’s sake. She has men guarding its outskirts. I’m betting her exit strategy will not be people-friendly.”

“We need to avoid that,” Dahl agreed.

“So we take Coyote out of the running as quickly as possible. Her plans will die with her.”

They passed the flapping huddle that constituted the town’s market. At the bottom of the street a road intersected, running both ways. The train station lay around the gently curving corner and across the road, swathed in darkness. A high dirty brick wall enclosed it, protected at its apex by barbed-wire mesh. The only way inside that Drake could see was a wrought-iron gate topped by spikes and chained with a padlock.

“Station’s closed,” he said.

Dahl waved the tracking device. “One blip has been stationed inside there for the past half hour. We don’t know if that means they’re dead, in hiding or something else.”

“What about the three blips up at the castle?” Alicia said. “Another group?”

Drake shrugged. “We’re here now. As much as I hate the idea of a tracking device that refreshes every twelve minutes, the question has to be asked — how else are we going to find them?”

The group kept to the shadows as much as they could, crossing the road and reaching the high wall that enclosed the station. Drake tested the padlock that secured the gate. “Locked,” he breathed.

Dahl pointed up. “Over we go.”

With a leg up the Swede was soon poised with his arms over the top of the wall, his eyes scanning the inside of the station. The top of the wall was just a little higher than anyone could boost him, so he had to remain still using only his arm muscles. After a few minutes he called down.

“It’s quiet. I don’t like it, but there’s some cover right inside.” He lifted himself over the wall. Drake gave Mai a leg up then waited until her arms reached back down toward him. Within seconds they’d crossed over the wall and were crouched in the shadow of a shed on the other side.

“We have to assume the assassin knows where we are,” Drake whispered. “It’s not exactly Swedish Special Forces we’re dealing with here.”

Dahl shook his head. “No. They’d have snapped your scrawny neck by now.”

“Shh,” Mai hissed. “Please. We have to take this seriously. Gozu is one of the assassins and even with Coyote and Beauregard involved I find it hard to believe there is anyone better.”

Drake nodded in silence, accepting the rebuke. Carefully, he raised his head, scanning ahead. Their shelter lay at one end of the station, the actual terminus of the track. The platform led away on both sides of the rusty tracks, sloping upward. A ticket booth and store stood to the right-hand side and a low bridge toward the end of the platform. So many dark places filled his vision that he could barely tell them apart.

Between the shed and the next place of shelter, the store, lay about twenty feet of exposed ground.

“Hope Alicia’s found a way in,” he muttered. “This way couldn’t be more dangerous.”

As if in answer, a shout rose up from the darkness. Drake saw two quick things — a shadow approach fast from the far end of the platform and then another chunk of darkness shift amidst the deep shadows that clung to the roof of the store.

Alicia had caught someone’s attention, and that person had moved, betraying themselves.

“Down!” Drake yelled, breaking cover. Instantly, the shadow above the store rolled again and a flash of light erupted. Drake dived for cover. A blast rocketed overhead.

“Was that a shotgun?” Mai gasped. She yanked on Drake’s legs, pulling him back as a second explosion occurred about the same time a rocket of flame erupted from the path where his head had been.

“Almost blew my bloody brains out!” Drake twisted back into the shelter.

Dahl chuckled. “Not even an assassin’s that good a shot.”

Mai rose and fired one of the handguns, giving the assassin reason to doubt. Sure enough, knowing they’d been spotted, Drake saw the shadow flit off the edge of the roof and land, catlike, on two feet, poised on the platform.

“Again,” he said.

Mai rose and fired. The shotgun spat flame. A throaty chuckle drifted through the air.

“It is Drake and his comrades, dah? Lucky for me. I fuck you up early and take prize.” More laughter and an increase in gunshots as the assassin closed the gap.

Drake’s mouth was a thin line. “Another fucking Russian. I’ve had my fill of fucking Russians lately.”

“Must be Gretchen,” Dahl said.

Mai peered out at a low angle. “Wait. Just wait,” she said. “You know my thoughts on Russian-made items. Well, that’s a Russian Saiga boomstick if I’m not mistaken.” She held up five fingers and then counted down.

“Four… fi—”

There came the unmistakable sound of a gun jamming. Mai rolled instantly, firing hard. Drake and Dahl both broke cover, running up the side of the platform. As they sighted the Russian they noted Alicia advancing from behind.

Gretchen dropped the shotgun and whipped out a compact Uzi. Drake had expected all kinds of weapons present tonight — assassins knew how to smuggle their weapon of choice into any country — and so far he was not disappointed. Gretchen herself was on the large side, a slab of pure nondescript muscle from the Soviet era that could have belonged to either gender. No expression crossed her bland features. Her arms and legs were trunks of pure muscle.

When Alicia hit her from behind, the Englishwoman appeared to bounce off, her face twisted into an almost comical expression of shock. Gretchen merely blinked and brought the Uzi to bear, but then hesitated, as if unsure which direction to attend to first.

Alicia shook her head and rose. Drake and Dahl closed the gap rapidly. Mai’s rolling gunshots passed close to the Russian but were too random to be accurate, especially as Mai had the added problem of also avoiding Alicia. But by now most of the team were converging on the Russian and the time for gunplay was over.

Gretchen saw it, drawing a wicked blade over twelve inches long. It was the first time any emotion touched her eyes — wicked and excited expectation. A pale tongue flicked across her lips.

“I gut swine like you for my breakfast.”

Drake didn’t doubt it. He paced warily outside the woman’s swing. She may be big, muscle-bound and clumsy looking, but she certainly wasn’t slow, this Russian travesty of times past. He studied as she adjusted to Dahl’s movements and his own, and then to Alicia’s padding up behind.

The problem wasn’t taking her down. It was taking her down and remaining fully intact. The night was yet young and full of terrors. Even the slightest mistake could cost them the tournament and their lives.

With every sense and nerve on edge, Drake feinted. Gretchen ignored him, sensing it was a ruse. Instead she turned to Dahl.

“You are fine Englishman, dah? Big. Solid. We could make strong Russian babies, you and I.”

Dahl didn’t answer, but the expression in his eyes showed he knew he would take a few hits for that comment later. Drake feinted again, and again Gretchen didn’t respond. Instead she whirled her deadly blade in an arc, almost catching Alicia as she moved in.

“Back off, little ferret.”

Alicia held up both hands. “Already there.”

Drake heard Mai moving behind him. Judging by the swiftness of her footfalls and the sharp flicker of Gretchen’s gaze, the Japanese woman was moving fast. This was it, then. Mai had called the play. Gretchen couldn’t help but track Mai, the approaching whirlwind. Drake and Dahl moved in. The Russian did the only thing she could; tried to break for it in Alicia’s direction.

But as she moved, as she geared up that locomotive of a body, something fell onto her from the darkness that filled the train station’s arched roof. It was a heavy shadow, a cloaked arcane thing. The first indication Drake had that it was human was when Gretchen’s face opened up from hairline to chin, blood pouring out. The expression of shock in her eyes continued, the flicker and dart of surprise, even as she collapsed. She was still breathing when her head hit the floor, alive because her body hadn’t yet realized she was dead.

Mai gasped into the silence, “Gozu!”

All hell broke loose. The Tsugarai’s new master assassin moved like a dervish, flicking a shuriken in Alicia’s direction, a small blade toward Dahl, and slicing the wicked sword he’d bloodied on Gretchen at Drake.

The Yorkshireman backpedalled, not expecting such a sudden onslaught. Within seconds the manner of the fight had changed. Gozu was like a spinning devil, the opposite of Gretchen, and the shock of his silent arrival had stunned them all.

Gozu leapt through the gap between Drake and Dahl, bursting toward Mai.

“Dishonorable bitch!” He spat. “You kill your master! Enslave your clan! You will pay in eternity for all that.”

He struck like a thunderbolt; hands, feet and elbows stabbing forward faster than even Mai could track. Not only that, when one of his hands wasn’t engaged in combat he filled it with a shuriken or a small blade, throwing the object at Alicia, Drake and Dahl, and even Mai. Drake found a knife sticking out of his shoulder that he hadn’t even seen being thrown. Alicia cursed.

Mai struggled to defend herself, driven backwards, throwing her own arms and legs up in the nick of time but still taking hard blows to the face and ribs. Gozu was a killing machine, bred for a single purpose, and even Mai didn’t possess the lifelong discipline it would take to stop him.

“And Gyuki!” Gozu spat. “My teacher and yours. You would murder him too!”

Mai double-stepped to the side, perilously close to the edge of the platform, but gaining valuable inches. “Gyuki was a child molester, a devil. He deserved more than the quick death I gave him.”

Gozu raged, “I will—”

His tirade ended as Dahl smashed into him. Gozu’s little distraction, as he listened to Mai condemn his master, had enabled the mad Swede to launch a risky onslaught. The assassin staggered back with Dahl wrapped around his waist. Almost any other man in the world would have folded, but Gozu possessed such strength and balance that he managed to stay on his feet, striking down onto the nape of Dahl’s exposed neck.

The Swede grunted, coming up and letting go. Instantly, his cheek burned as Gozu whipped stiffened fingers across it. Dahl caught the second strike that would have crushed his windpipe, but missed the third that slammed into his gut and doubled him over. The Swede couldn’t remember when he’d been hit so painfully, so accurately, the blow slamming directly into nerve clusters.

His brain filled with agony. It was all he could feel, see, and think about.

Drake was by his side. The Englishman engaged Gozu without pause, trying to limit the master assassin’s strikes to the better protected parts of his body. Once he’d accepted that Gozu was inevitably going to break his defense at some point, it was a little easier to subtly direct those strikes toward less crucial areas. The two men fought their way back up the platform toward the store and a waiting Alicia.

“Tricky little fucker,” she said. “Try this.”

She flung her knife, giving Drake flashbacks of when she’d flung it once before, saving all their lives, but the Tsugarai assassin was more than ready for her move. With an eye-flicker of disdain he withdrew his short sword and deflected it away. Alicia cursed and joined the fight. Drake turned the directionality of the fight so that Gozu was headed backwards toward the far end of the station.

Right now the assassin was as far away from Mai as Drake could possibly get him. As they fought harder, Gozu hit the bottom step of the stairs that led up to the bridge that crossed the track and continued up, climbing backwards. Drake tried to take the advantage, increasing his attacks, but Gozu only twisted faster and punched harder. In the end, being a true Yorkshireman born and bred, the only thing Drake could think of was to be blunt. He picked up a man-sized sign with a solid plastic base and hurled it at Gozu’s head.

The assassin slithered underneath, but lost his footing. The sign bounced back and hit him in the spine. Alicia delivered a stunning, twisting elbow to the nose, breaking it with a loud snap. If Gozu even noticed the blow he gave no hint, but scrambled on arms and legs up the stairs like an escaping insect. Drake pursued fast. By the time he, Alicia and now Dahl reached the Ninja, the man had gained the narrow bridge across the tracks.

“Running out of space, arsehole?” Alicia taunted.

But then Gozu showed his intention. His goal was Mai, and Drake knew it; and should have anticipated the next move. Gozu leapt on to the paint-flecked railing that spanned the bridge and simply launched himself into space. He landed lightly on the platform below and tumbled, then sprinted hard at Mai with a terrible, driven, singular purpose evident in every quick realignment of his body.

Mai faced him; calm, poised, as if expecting this charge all along.

Drake raced for the stairs, Alicia at his heels. Dahl, in his special way, followed the ninja-trained assassin right off the railing, landing heavy and with a loud bellow, but still managing to tuck and roll. He came up aching, shocked, but still in one piece.

By that time Gozu was firing everything in his arsenal at Mai. The Japanese ex-ninja skilfully stood her ground, retaliating when she could and dealing several severe blows of her own. Gozu was definitely deteriorating now, having held four world-class assailants off for so long and taking wounds along the way.

“Gyuki would have been proud of you,” Mai said. “Such a loyal little worm.”

“I am loyal to my masters!”

“And you will die loyal.” Mai had purposely sought to raise Gozu’s heckles, knowing that besmirching his clan opened up the only crack in his armor. When the man stopped for one split second and reacted with hatred, she darted in close and grabbed the short sword that was hidden among the folds of his black robe. With a deft tug she wrenched it partly free of its scabbard and sawed the exposed blade across his ribs. This time Gozu yelled out and half-folded. Mai danced clear. Gozu struck out blindly.

Drake pounded along the platform, closing fast on Dahl. Alicia raced past them all, so fast Drake gawped and so close he heard the mantra she repeated under her breath.

“… will not lose another, will not lose another—”

Mai drove a foot into Gozu’s knee, watched him fold more acutely, then stepped in to finish the job.

“No!” Alicia cried.

Only Mai kept going. She didn’t see the small blade held behind Gozu’s back, who knew that even in defeat he could still kill his enemy.

“I beat you,” Mai said, leaning down.

Drake almost screamed. Damn, this wasn’t like Mai. The Japanese woman usually dispatched her enemies with no real emotion, clinical to the end. One man down and move on to the next and the next until all enemies lay motionless and cold. But this battle was personal, so personal she’d allowed its meaning to scramble her senses.

Gozu rose up, destined to die but determined to extract his vengeance. The knife swung around, a mere distraction, and Mai fell for it. She turned and blocked the blade, leaving her neck open to Gozu’s brutal attack.

He struck ruthlessly.

A band of unbreakable iron encircled her throat. Mai lost the ability to breathe, both her hands instantly coming up to try and loosen the crushing grip. This left her exposed to the blade.

Choking to death, she barely noticed. The blade plunged.

At the last instant, Alicia threw herself headlong at the pair. She crashed into them like a wrecking ball, demolishing the deadly embrace. The blade flicked away. Alicia tumbled on past, leaving Mai and Gozu prostrate in her wake. By then Drake and Dahl were almost on top of the ninja. Dahl bunched his huge fist into his robe and hauled him to his feet; Drake delivered a flurry of blows to his chest and midriff. The ones that landed on his open wound made him scream.

Drake didn’t stop. Dahl held him and Drake punched him until he slumped, unmoving. After that Dahl threw the body onto the tracks, out of sight. The four of them regrouped at the gate that exited the station and caught their breaths whilst Dahl broke out his tracker.

“All right,” he said after a while. “Their blips have stopped flashing and turned into stationary red dots, and so has Santino’s, so I guess we can safely conclude this means no vital signs. Three down,” he grunted. “Four bad guys to go. Not including us, of course, and Crouch and Coyote.”

“What time is it?” Drake asked.

Mai looked up at him. “Time I bought you a watch.”

“It’s midnight,” a disembodied voice told them and they all suddenly fell into defensive stances.

All except Drake. He knew that voice anywhere. “Michael Crouch, sir,” he said. “I wondered when you would show up.”

“Less of the ‘sir’,” Crouch said. “I guess I’m pretty much the civilian now.”

Drake met his eyes. “The Ninth Division… I’m sorry. What of the people that survived with you?”

“Awaiting my call. And who supports you?”

Drake looked a little sheepish and glanced at his colleagues. “Communications are disallowed. They have civilians wired to nano-vests, an army of mercs, some kind of computer genius and land mines.” He shrugged.

Crouch gave him raised eyebrows. “And more I assume. But even in that short list there is something you can exploit.”

Drake ran through it again in his head. Of course there was. But they would need outside help to do it, and from someone he didn’t believe was operationally fit. Still, needs must. He opened his mouth to speak.

“Wait,” Dahl said suddenly. “What the hell’s that noise?”

He knew of course. They all knew. As one, their five faces turned white, hard and desperate.

“God help them,” Mai whispered.