The Gates of Hell

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Drake took a breath as Mai slipped through a side door, in full view of the salesman.

“What the—”

Drake smiled. “It’s Mai-time,” he whispered, and then broke the man’s jaw with a haymaker. Without a sound, the salesman spun and hit the ground. Alicia strode past the Lamborghini, readying her weapon. Drake leapt over the motionless salesman. Mai stepped quickly along the rear wall, passing behind the pristine McLaren F1.

They were up against the office wall in seconds. The lack of windows worked both for and against them. But there would be security cameras. It was just a matter of—

Someone came running in from the back, overalls smothered in oil and grease, long black hair tied back in a green bandana. Drake pressed his cheek right up against the thin plywood partition, listening to the sounds coming from within the office as Mai took the mechanic out with practiced movements.

Still they hadn’t made a sound.

But then more men burst through the door, and someone inside the office let out a yell. Drake knew the game was up.

“Let ‘em have it.”

Alicia growled “Fuck, yeah” and kicked the office door in just as it opened, sending it slamming against a man’s head. Another man stepped out, eyes widening in shock as they locked on to the beautiful woman with the gun and the fighters poise waiting for him. He raised a shotgun. Alicia shot him through the stomach.

He collapsed in the doorway. More shouts came from within the office. Shock was beginning to turn into understanding. Soon, they would figure that it might be wise to phone a few friends.

Drake fired at one of the mechanics, hitting him mid-thigh and taking him down. The man slid full-length down the McLaren, leaving a bloody smear in his wake. Even Drake grimaced. Mai engaged the second man and Drake turned back to Alicia.

“We need to get inside.”

Alicia inched closer until she had a good view of the interior. Drake crab-walked along the floor until he reached the door. On his nod, Alicia fired a few shots. Drake almost dived in through the doorway, but at that moment half a dozen men came bursting out of it, weapons up and firing hard.

Alicia spun away, taking cover behind the Lamborghini. Bullets pinged off its flanks. The windshield shattered. Drake slipped away quickly. He could see the hurt in the man’s eyes as he fired upon the supercars.

Another saw him too. Drake opened fire a split second before he did and saw him drop hard, taking one of his colleagues with him.

Alicia popped up from behind the Lamborghini and laid down a couple of covering shots. Drake ran for the Ferrari, ducking behind its huge tires. Every bullet counted now. He could see Mai, hidden from view by the corner of the office wall, peering into the back where the mechanics had come from.

Three of them lay at her feet.

Drake cracked a little smile. She was still the perfect killing machine. For a moment he worried about the inevitable meeting of Mai and Alicia, and the reckoning to come over the death of Wells, but then he locked his worry away in the same remote compartment as the love he felt for Ben and Hayden and all his other friends.

This was not a place to let his civilian emotions thrive.

A bullet slammed into the Ferrari, flying through the door and out the other side. With a deafening crash, the front window exploded, glass raining down in a mini waterfall. Drake used the distraction to pop up and shoot another of the men who was bunched up around the office door.

Amateurs, for sure.

Then he saw two hard-looking men exit the office holding machine-pistols. Drake’s heart skipped a beat. He had a brief image of two more men behind them — almost certainly Scarberry and Petersen being protected by hired mercenaries — before he made his body as small as possible behind the massive tire.

The sound of bullets spewing forth blasted his eardrums. This would be their strategy then. Keep Alicia and him grounded whilst the two owners made their escape through the back.

But they hadn’t planned for Mai.

The Japanese agent scooped up a couple of discarded guns and came around the corner, blasting at the men with the machine-pistols. One flew backward as if he’d been hit by a car, firing his pistol crazily and making confetti of the ceiling as he fell. The other herded his bosses behind his own bulk and switched his aim toward Mai.

Alicia burst upward and fired one shot that went through the bodyguard’s cheek, felling him in an instant.

Now Scarberry and Petersen pulled out weapons of their own. Drake cursed. He needed them alive. At that moment two more men came through the back and side doors, forcing Mai to take cover behind the McLaren again.

A bullet blasted through the precious car’s shell.

Drake heard one of the owners squeal like a Hawaiian Kalua pig.The few remaining men gathered around their bosses and, firing wide of the cars and thus their assailants, ran at breakneck speed for the rear garage.

Drake was momentarily taken aback. Mai took out two of the bodyguards, but Scarberry and Petersen vanished quickly through the back door amidst a hail of covering fire.

Drake rose and fired as he walked forward. Advancing all the while, he bent over to scoop up two more weapons. One of the guards by the back door fell, holding his shoulder. The other vanished backward in a hail of blood.

Drake ran to the door, Mai and Alicia at his side. Mai fired whilst Drake took a few quick peeks, trying to assess the layout of the back rooms and garage.

“Just a big open space,” he said. “But one big problem.”

Alicia squatted at his side. “What?”

“They’ve got a Shelby Cobra back there.”

Mai rolled her eyes at him. “Why is that a problem?”

“Whatever you do, don’t shoot it.”

“Is it loaded with explosives?”

“No.”

“Then why can’t I shoot it?”

“Because it’s a Shelby Cobra!”

“We just shot up a showroom full of stupid supercars.” Alicia elbowed him aside. “If you ain’t got the stomach for it, piss off.”

“Damn.” Drake jumped in front of her. A bullet whizzed by his forehead and embedded into the plaster wall, spraying Gypsum shavings past his eyes. As he’d expected, the bad guys were firing as they ran. If they hit anything, it’d be blind luck.

Drake aimed, took a deep breath, and dropped the men on either side of the two bosses. As their last remaining bodyguards fell, both Scarberry and Petersen seemed to realize they were fighting a losing battle. They stopped, guns hanging by their sides. Drake ran at them, finger already tensioned on the trigger.

“Claude,” he said. “We want Claude, not you. Where is he?”

Up close the two bosses were oddly similar. They both had tired faces, etched all around with hard lines born of years of ruthless decision making. Their eyes were cold, the eyes of feasting piranhas. Their hands, still holding the guns, flexed cautiously.

Mai pointed at the guns. “Drop them.”

Alicia fanned out wide, making the target harder. Drake could almost see the defeat enter the bosses’ eyes. The guns clattered to the floor almost simultaneously.

“Bloody hell,” Alicia muttered. “They look the same and act the same. Does being a bad guy in paradise turn you all into clones? And whilst I’m at it — why would anyone turn into a bad guy out here? This place is better’n a vacay on cloud nine.”

“Which one of you is Scarberry?” Mai asked, leading with an easy one.

“I am,” the lighter-haired one said. “You the guys’ been looking for Claude all over town?”

“That’s us,” Drake whispered. “And this is our last stop.”

A faint click echoed through the stillness. Drake spun, knowing Alicia would stay on target as she always used to. The garage looked empty, the silence suddenly as heavy as a mountain.

Scarberry gave them a sallow smile. “We’re in a workshop. Sometimes things fall over.”

Drake didn’t look at Alicia but signaled her to keep constant lookout. Something was off. He stepped in, took hold of Scarberry. With a quick judo move, Drake lifted him and threw him over his shoulder, slamming the man hard onto the concrete. By the time the pain in Scarberry’s eyes had cleared, Drake had jammed the gun under his chin.

“Where’s Claude?”

“Never heard—”

Drake broke the man’s nose. “You get one more chance.”

Scarberry was hyperventilating. His face was set like granite, but the muscles in his neck worked hard, betraying nerves and fear.

“Let’s start shooting bits off.” Mai’s light voice drifted past them. “I’m bored.”

“Fair enough.” Drake pushed up, stepped away, and squeezed the trigger.

“NOO!”

Scarberry’s scream stopped him at the last possible instant. “Claude lives on a ranch! Inland from the north shore. I can give you coordinates.”

Drake smiled. “Then go ahead.”

Another click. Drake saw the briefest of movements and his heart sank.

Oh no.

Alicia fired. Her bullet killed the last bad guy instantly. He had been hiding inside the Shelby’s trunk.

Drake glared at her. She smiled back with a bit of the old mischief. Drake saw that she, at least, would find herself again. She was a strong character, able to deal with loss.

He wasn’t so sure about himself. He nudged Scarberry to get a move on. “Be quick. Your friend, Claude, is in for a big surprise.”