CHAPTER 39

Valac’s man was on them before they got to Cooper, shouting as he raced down the hall, pistol blazing. Deuce dove for safety, sending Valac flying off his shoulders as Alex returned fire, cutting down the thug with a shot to the neck.

“You hurt?” she said to Deuce.

Already on his feet, he shook his head and began hefting Valac again. “Get Cooper. There’s a service elevator in the south hall. I’ll meet you there.”

He grunted and took off down the hall like a lumbering Cyclops. Heading the other way, Alex found the room Cooper was in and threw the door open. He was on the floor, cuffed to a bed frame he had already half torn apart, trying to get loose.

“Thank God,” he said. “I heard gunshots and thought the worst.”

She took the key from her pocket and unlocked the cuffs. “I think I’ve used about six of my nine lives in the last ten minutes, but it isn’t over yet. Deuce has Valac and is headed for the service elevator.”

“Nice. Sounds like I missed a lot.”

“We can play catch-up later.”

As soon as Cooper was on his feet, she handed him Valac’s pistol and they raced out of the room.

“This way,” she said.

She led him down the hall toward the corridor that would take them to the service elevator. Rounding the corner, they surprised another of Valac’s thugs, who had apparently been running toward the sound of the gunfire. His eyes went wide as he fumbled for the gun at the small of his back. Before he could get it free, Cooper buried a shot in his chest and sent him sprawling.

“That’s three down,” Alex said.

She grabbed Cooper’s arm and pulled him down the hall and through a doorway, hoping she was taking them in the right direction. She’d done her best to memorize the basic layout of the house, but dodging fire had a way of shattering your concentration.

Hearing shouts behind them, they crossed through a bedroom and exited into yet another hallway. Alex was beginning to think whoever had designed this place had a fondness for M.C. Escher. They traveled the length of the new corridor then burst through a doorway, relieved to find Deuce holding the elevator open for them, Valac in a heap at his feet.

* * *

“Come on, come on,” Deuce urged, waving them forward as if it would somehow speed their progress. “Took you damn long enough.” As they got on board, he let the doors close and said, “Warlock, do you read me?”

“I’m here, mate. Did you find them?”

“All present and accounted for, with Valac in tow.”

“Really? I’m impressed.”

“Don’t be until we’ve blown this pop stand. We’re headed for the loading dock. I need you to put some blinders on Valac’s men. Cut all the feeds to the CCTV.”

“Copy that, but you might want to look for a different way out. They’ve found the van and the guards you tranked, so they’re crawling all over the back of the house. I don’t think they’ve quite figured out what’s going on yet, but they know something’s up.”

“Shit,” Deuce said. “What about out front?”

“Looks like a parking lot for limos. But most of the guards are either inside or out back, so they must be thinking you’ll come out the way you went in.”

“All right. Once you cut the feeds, get your ass back to the Buick and meet us at the rendezvous point. We’ll be there as soon as we can.”

“With pleasure, my friend, but do me a favor.”

“What’s that?”

“Tell Alex she still owes me a pack of snouts.”

* * *

They got off the elevator at the first floor, Deuce once again hefting Valac over his shoulders. They tried to move quickly and quietly down the hallway past the ballroom, but as soon as they came around the corner, they discovered half a dozen of Valac’s men heading in their direction.

Guns came up and bullets began to fly.

Deuce cut through a doorway into the ballroom with Alex and Cooper at his heels, returning fire. Putting his head down, he plowed through the crowd of dancers, showing no mercy as he knocked them aside and headed across the room. More than once, he thought he heard the jangling of jewelry as they stumbled out of his way.

Guests started shouting and pushing at him, but he didn’t falter or slow down, determined to get to the front of the house before the weight of Valac’s body made it impossible to keep moving. He was running on pure adrenaline at this point, and he knew if they got out of this alive, he’d have one hell of a backache tomorrow.

Nearing the far side, they saw another of Valac’s men, a rodent-faced punk holding a FAMAS Infanterie assault rifle. Deuce tried to duck as the man scanned the crowd, but at his height and with Valac on his back, it was an impossible task. The punk spotted them and opened fire, shooting indiscriminately into the crowd. Around them, guests began to fall to the floor.

Holy shit, Deuce thought. This guy is out of his mind.

With bullets dancing at his feet, Deuce dodged left and nearly plowed into Cooper as his friend raised his pistol and put a hole in the punk’s forehead.

Screaming in horror, the guests stampeded toward the exits, shoving at each other as they stumbled their way toward the front doors. Deuce, Alex, and Cooper used the pandemonium for cover, flowing with the crowd as Valac’s remaining men tried to fight their way toward them.

When they got outside, Cooper sprinted to the nearest limousine, threw the driver’s door open, dragged out the terrified driver, then leaned in and popped the trunk.

Deuce moved toward it as it swung open, and was only a few feet away when one of his legs finally gave out. With a groan, he buckled and fell onto the gravel driveway. His cargo tumbled across the grass, landing against one of the limo’s tires. If Deuce didn’t know Valac was tranked, he’d swear the guy was dead.

“Are you hit?” Alex said, dropping beside him.

“No. I’m okay. Help me up.”

Alex helped Deuce to his feet, and together they tossed Valac into the trunk and slammed it shut.

More shots rang out as the thugs broke free of the exiting crowd, bullets gouging the grass around Deuce and Alex’s feet. Alex raised her gun to return fire, but there were too many guests behind Valac’s men. She couldn’t risk a shot.

“Get in!” Cooper shouted as he started the engine.

The moment Alex and Deuce scrambled inside, Cooper hit the gas, the acceleration slamming their doors shut.

A cluster of shots punched the limo’s exterior and shattered the rear window as the car headed straight for the security gate. Hopefully, Valac hadn’t taken any of those hits, but if he had, Deuce wouldn’t lose much sleep over it.

Two rent-a-cops came flying out of the guard shack, waving their arms for Cooper to slow down, and Deuce felt the car pick up speed. The guards hurled themselves from Cooper’s path only seconds before the limo slammed through the security bar, shearing it right off its hinges.

* * *

The hit sent Alex flying sideways into Deuce.

She righted herself as Deuce shouted, “Dude, you want me to drive?”

But Alex knew Cooper couldn’t hear him. He was lost in the zone, the bulk of his brain matter focused on getting them the hell out of there. She’d seen him like this a hundred times in combat, a relentless blood-and-bone machine that would not rest until the job was done.

As Cooper rocketed down the winding drive, Alex checked their six and spotted two vehicles racing after them. Unfortunately, they weren’t limousines, or the usual fifty-year-old sedans St. Cajetan seemed to love so much. These were two black Jeep Patriots — an ironic name when you considered who was driving them.

One of Valac’s thugs leaned out a window of the first Jeep, gun in hand.

Alex shouted, “Down!” and pushed Deuce toward the floor as shots strafed the side of the limo.

She wondered if these idiots even knew they were putting Valac’s life in danger. If any of those bullets managed to pierce the trunk, that floatplane might wind up taking a corpse back to the US.

Another round of shots kept them pinned down as Cooper reached the end of the drive. As he jerked the wheel to make the wide turn onto the main highway, they were met with a long angry blast of the horn from a slow-moving ‘52 Cadillac heading straight at them. Cooper swerved to the side, missing the other car by inches, then righted them back onto the road and took off.

Seconds later, the first of the two Patriots came flying out of the driveway, whiffed the turn, and sank its nose into the rear flank of the Cadillac. Both cars went spinning, then the Patriot’s driver lost complete control and the Jeep went into a roll, two of its occupants flying out the windows and slamming against the blacktop in a burst of blood.

The driver of the second Patriot played it smarter, easing off the accelerator as the car went into the turn. Within seconds he was on their tail, close enough that Alex could see his pockmarked face and the grinning salamander on the seat next to him.

“These guys are going down,” Deuce said, and pointed his SIG Sauer out the rear window. But before he could get off a shot, the Jeep picked up speed and slammed into the rear of the limo, knocking him off balance.

Did these morons not know who was in the trunk?

As Deuce struggled to right himself, the Patriot glided into the oncoming lane and picked up speed again, pulling alongside them. With a whip of the wheel, the Jeep smashed into the side of the limo, causing it to veer toward the edge of the road as Cooper momentarily lost control.

“Oh, you are so gonna regret that move,” Alex said.

She brought her pistol up, shattered the passenger window with a bullet, then leaned out and emptied what was left of her magazine into the right front tire of the Jeep.

The tire exploded and sparks flew as the rim scraped blacktop and the Jeep swerved out of control.

Cooper hit the brakes, allowing the Jeep to careen past them, and the driver struggling to keep it steady, but it was no use. Less than a hundred feet ahead, the Jeep barreled off the highway and slammed into a ditch at the side of the road — an impact so brutal the Jeep seemed to fold in on itself, taking its passengers with it.

As Cooper once again sped up, Alex looked out the rear window, bracing herself for another round.

But to her relief, no one else appeared.

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