The Last Bazaar

CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR

Like death’s shadow she slipped among the guards, a knife in each hand, corpses left lying in her wake, but the simple crush of bodies between her and the edge of the pit prevented her from reaching her friends. The journey to this part of the world had been a long one for Mai Kitano, made possible by Hayden’s provision of coordinates, but the last thing she expected when she arrived was to have to pull her teammates from deadly danger. Now, she jabbed, she thrust, she darted to and fro like smoke and magic woven together; she ignored the pain of not-so-old knife and bullet wounds, the throbbing scar across her face, putting her friends first and the rest of her life on hold. As she stalled, as she despaired of ever seeing them alive again, a stranger appeared at her side.

“Mine’s bigger than yours.”

The woman wielded a katana, given back to her by Yorgi who had been concealing the Samurai sword beneath his robes. She started to forge a path through the throng.

Guns appeared in several hands but Mai made quick work of their owners, flitting among them. As even Kenzie started to stall they neared the edge of the pit. Ramses stood only two figures removed, a crowd around him. Mai saw other guards rushing toward them and, again, felt her heart sink down toward the caiman pit itself.

“Still too many,” she muttered.

Gunfire erupted. Yorgi, standing alone, made himself a target to draw some of the killers away. Several guards fell, bleeding. Mai and Kenzie forged a few steps closer. Then Kenzie’s katana was bludgeoned out of her hands and Mai received a debilitating blow to the back of the neck. For the last time, their progress faltered.

Stopped.

Screams echoed up from the bottom of the pit. Laughter spread along the top. Ramses was holding up one huge arm, a bear’s paw it seemed, and chatting to those around him about what would happen when they unleashed two hundred rounds of lead. Some were taking bets, others craning their necks for a better view. Mai ignored the agony, met Kenzie’s eyes and nodded.

“For our friends.”

Kenzie gave her a tight-lipped smile. “If you say so.”

Then, from out of nowhere, shot a lithe, black streak, a living blade that chopped, tore and slashed through their opponents as if they weren’t even there. Mai stared open-mouthed as Beauregard Alain squeezed among guards and other fighters, beyond her own capabilities, incapacitating them faster than they could blink and sending them to their knees.

A gap opened up.

Mai shot through it, flanked by Kenzie and Beauregard, heroes shouting and screaming and coming to the rescue. Guards found their flesh turning red, appendages severed, and then turned to run without even knowing the cause. Guns clattered to the floor. Ramses turned and saw the danger, his bodyguard Akatash wrenching him away at the very last moment. Mai kicked three people over the edge of the pit. Kenzie buried her retrieved katana into a shoulder and then a skull. Beauregard broke limbs and spleens and throats and ribs. His opponents died before their brains registered the fact, expressions of shock engraved forever on their faces.

Mai reached the edge of the pit and stared down. Drake was already halfway up, the others following. Alicia was shouting at Dahl, trying to encourage the Swede to leave behind the caiman that he was dragging along with him. Nothing had changed there then. Yorgi’s machine gun rang out again, further scattering the guards, organizers and attendees of the last bazaar.

Everything had been blown to hell and now time was the vital factor.

“Hurry!” she screamed into Drake’s face.

“Sprite!” Alicia cried back. “Where the fuck…?”

“Tell you later, Taz. Just move your knobblies, fast as you can.”

Alicia moved fast enough, her eyes riveted on the scene at the top of the pit. “Is that Kenzie? And… and Beau? Fuck me. What is this — an alternate reality?”

“Your desired reality,” Kenzie said with a mischievous smile, reaching out a hand to help the Englishwoman over the top.

Alicia beamed at Mai, then at Kenzie and Beau. “Damn, I do like the sound of that.”

Then Drake put himself into her line of sight. “Really?”

The team struggled out of the caiman pit, dripping, bruised and tired but all in one piece. Dahl hauled his prize up and then watched it slink off into the jungle. “Guys, when we get home we should get one of those for the gym. What a workout!”

Drake paused for breath and a moment to take in the scene. Shocked, humbled, overawed, he saw the entire SPEAR team gathered around him, together at last and again, united in battle.

Family. It had been such a long time.

“You guys,” he said. “Thanks for being here.”

Beauregard and Kenzie offered tight-lipped smiles. “Seriously.” He offered a hand out to each of them. “You helped save our lives. The SPEAR team owes you one.”

Then Hayden stepped to the fore. Dahl immediately gave her a fast update on events. Her face blanched terribly when she heard about the bomb and that they had no way of communicating the information.

“Time to get paid,” she said, indicating the uproar that had become of the bazaar. “Targets first. Let’s move out.”

Drake scanned the heads for those they needed. “Webb.” He pointed. “And there, Price. C’mon.”

Alicia jogged alongside Beau. “So Webb’s aware you’re a plant?”

“A what?”

“Undercover. An agent.”

“Yes, but it will not bother him. This is what he wanted. The madman has everything he needs to slink away and locate these ancient treasures.”

With weapons out and eyes glued to their surrounds the SPEAR team plunged into the running throng. Dilemmas prodded at Drake from every angle — terrorists ran alongside him clutching their new purchases and staying close to their personal bodyguards, but Drake’s quarry was far, far more important. Kenzie didn’t seem to share that value, swinging her katana at almost everybody, most likely seeing it as a new way of extracting an old vengeance. Drake turned a blind eye, not wanting to test that morality for himself.

The jungle practically shook as hundreds of feet pounded its verdant byways. Soaked leaves dripped with water and slime. Vegetation, churned up by the runners, floated in the air. Sunlight dappled the clearings. Boutiques and stalls flashed by to either side, some destroyed and one being ransacked, its owners killed. Drake tried to keep tabs on their objectives, but the crush of bodies made it increasingly hard. Twice he had to fend off attackers, finishing them with bullets. Smyth followed suit, snarling into their faces.

“No,” Hayden shouted at his side. “They’ve split apart… look! We’ll take Price.”

With that the team split in two, together for so short a time, and Drake concentrated his efforts on chasing down Tyler Webb. His hopes were raised when he saw that Webb was chasing Ramses, the terrorist prince surrounded by guards. Two pricks, one stone. He flexed his fingers and checked to see who was with him.

Dahl. Alicia. Mai and Beau.

Not a bad set.

They ran hard through the streets of the bazaar, Drake noticing that several of the attendees were now fighting each other. Rival factions? Who cared? You didn’t get this kind of action at Comic Con. He elbowed another attacker in the face and threw a second against a tree. Dahl performed a two-leg flying kick at another, earning a shake of the head from both Mai and Beau. But the guard didn’t get up. The Swede closed the gap between themselves and Webb.

“Time to pay up, you Pythian bastard,” he said. “Time to meet your fate.”

Then something screamed toward them.

“RPG!” Drake cried thickly, throwing his body to the floor.