The Lost City

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Ryan Bale wiped the sweat from his forehead and checked the magazine Reaper had given him. Three rounds. He smacked it back into the grip of the Glock.

Make them count.

After a lifetime looking down his nose at violence and guns, it suddenly felt good in his hands. He liked the weight of it, the shape of the grip, the feel of the steel trigger guard.

The power of life and death.

His new-found love of the weapon mixed dangerously with the deep hatred he felt for Dirk Kruger, the man who had kidnapped him and dragged him halfway around the world. The man who had used him like a walking encylopaedia, the man who had kept him gagged with his hands behind his back so he could use him as a bargaining chip in case ECHO got in his way again.

The man who was trapped on this boat with him… and now he was going to kill him stone dead.

Ryan crept along the portside deck, gun raised into the aim. He heard firing and ducked inside a doorway for cover, but then he realized he wasn’t the target because he could still hear shooting.

He moved forward to see Kruger blasting the hell out of the throttle controls and the boat slowed rapidly in response. The South African turned and saw him, and immediately fired on him. The bullets were wide, and pinged off the bulkhead in a shower of sparks, leaving Ryan diving for cover behind the portside wall of the wheelhouse.

He scrambled to safety and remembered once again he had only three bullets.

Make them count.

Reaper felt the water rush over him as he hit the ocean. The two men had become tangled in Kruger’s net and as they rolled off the boat into the sea the Frenchman suddenly understood what the South African used it for — torturing and killing his enemies.

As they went out behind the Navetta the boat dragged them along in its wake, and Corzo now started punching him hard in the face. Reaper knew only one man was getting out of this net alive, and it wasn’t going to be Carlos Corzo.

He tried to dodge the punches but the net was tangled around his neck and he found it almost impossible to move… and now they were sinking under the surface and struggling to take their last gasp of air before being totally submerged.

And now they were under.

Reaper managed to wrench his right arm free of the net and grab Corzo’s throat. He squeezed hard until he could see his eyes bulging in his skull. It wasn't hard, when it came down to it. All he had to do was think about his twin boys back in Provence growing up without a father while this piece of shit walked the streets with a panatella hanging off his smirking lip. That was enough to find what needed to be found to take Corzo out of the game.

But Corzo wasn’t going to go down without a fight, and he forced Reaper’s hand away before wildly grabbing a fistful of the nylon net in both hands and forcing it down over his opponent’s face. He pushed down hard as if he were running a wire through a block of cheese and Reaper felt the sharp nylon cords pushing into his face, dragging down hard at the corners of his mouth and gouging the bridge of his nose.

He screamed in pain but all that came out was the air he had been trapping in his lungs. It burst from his mouth in an explosion of bubbles as he fought to get the net off his face, but now Corzo was wrapping it around his neck. The cord coiled around his neck like a snake and he felt it pushing down on his Adam’s apple. It was now he considered that he couldn’t breathe anyway because of the sea, but Corzo was making damn sure he never breathed again.

Slowly, Reaper felt his world turning black. Time was running out.

Ryan fired the Glock at Kruger but the round ricocheted off the control panel and lodged in the roof.

Only two bullets left.

The South African darted for the door, only just getting through before the London dropout fired another shot which also narrowly missed. It felt good, he thought, to send this man scuttling away like the stinking rat he truly was…

“I see the boy becomes a man!” Kruger called through the wheelhouse door. He raised his gun and returned fire at Ryan.

Ryan slammed himself back against the steel wall on the other side of the wheelhouse and took a deep breath.

One bullet left.

Was he doing the right thing? Maybe he just didn’t have it in him… now Kruger was fighting back and he was alone. Joe and Lea were lost in Rio somewhere hunting Saqqal and Jawad down and Lexi and Scarlet were back in the docks. As for Reaper, the last time he’d seen him he was on the back of the boat locked in hand-to-hand combat with Carlos Corzo. As far as Ryan Bale was concerned, now it was just him and Dirk Kruger… mano a mano. He started to doubt if he had it in him.

“Come on you little weasel!” Kruger shouted. He laughed. “Show yourself!”

Ryan took another deep breath and readied himself. He stared up at the sky. Felt the cold steel of the wheelhouse through his mess of hair. Felt the sea breeze coming in off the South Atlantic. Heard the low rumbling of the trawler’s diesel engine somewhere beneath him.

He checked his gun had that one last round in the chamber for the third time and counted to five before spinning around the bulkhead door and aiming the gun at Kruger.

But he was gone.

He ran over to where the South African had been taking cover but there was nothing there except a few empty cartridges. Then he saw a flash of movement in his peripheral vision and flicked his head to the right to see Kruger jogging down the stairs leading to the lower deck on the starboard side.

Ryan gave chase, feeling the thrill of the hunt for the first time. He was now hunting Kruger — a man who had kept him captive and threatened him with death — and the prospect of taking his revenge was like electricity coursing through his veins. He pounded down the metal steps only to see his enemy darting inside the Navetta, but made the decision to pursue the hunt until the very end.

Inside now, and then he heard the revving of an engine coming from the other side of the boat. Stupidly, he thought for a split second that it was a motorbike but he didn’t work out the truth until a second too late when he emerged on the deck and saw Dirk Kruger racing away from the Navetta on a black Jet Ski. He crossed in front of the bow and sped away into the twilight.

Ryan sprinted back to the rail on the starboard side and raised his gun. Kruger was in range, and even though he was swerving from side to side, he knew he could take him out. He moved his gun from side to side as he tracked the fleeing South African and then he got the man’s head in his sights.

He paused, slowed his breathing and started to squeeze the trigger.

And then he fired.

He lowered his head when he realized he had missed the shot.

Vincent Reno felt his life slipping away and knew he had to act now or it would all be over. With no more oxygen, his head was spinning and he was losing his vision. He searched himself for any energy he had left and used his last reserves to wrench Corzo’s hands away from the net and then he hooked his thumbs into the Colombian’s eyes and pushed as hard as he could.

Corzo’s screams made the seawater white with bubbles and he instinctively swam back from Reaper and raised his hands to his eyes. It was the only chance Reaper needed, and he seized the moment. With Corzo still blinded by his attack, Reaper pulled himself free of the net and wrapped it around the Colombian’s arms and legs, tying him inextricably into the tangles of the net.

Corzo lashed out blindly, but missed the former legionnaire who dodged the blows and then used his opponent’s bound body as a ladder to haul himself up out of the water. With the Navetta chugging out to sea ahead of him, he pulled himself up the netting until he was clear of the water and then snatched Corzo’s bowie knife off the deck. He slashed the netting until it was no longer connected to the boat and it rapidly disappeared in the Navetta’s wake.

Reaper heaved the air into his lungs as he watched the Colombian thrashing about in the net in the middle of Guanabara Bay, but then he was still, and there was nothing more to be done.

The Frenchman dropped the knife and jogged up the deck toward the wheelhouse, and it was then he saw Ryan Bale aiming his gun at Kruger who was fleeing on a chunky Jet Ski. He paused a heartbeat longer than a trained soldier and the shot went low, smacking into the machine’s foamy wake, and then the target disappeared behind the peninsula.

Ryan Bale’s heart sank as he watched Dirk Kruger tearing away from the Navetta on the Jet Ski. It was a Kawasaki Ultra 310, the most powerful on the market, and now the South African was revving the 1.5 litre engine to its max as he ripped across the surface of Guanabara Bay.

Reaper was pounding along the starboard deck now, and Ryan was relieved to see he was okay, but as Kruger rapidly disappeared into the twilight on his way to the coast, Ryan dropped his head again, dropped the gun and cursed himself for losing his nerve and failing to kill the man. He knew Hawke or Lea or any of the others wouldn’t have paused like that, and it was in that half-second that a human life was taken or saved.

“He got away,” Ryan said. “I tried to take a shot but I missed.”

“You did your best, Ryan,” Reaper said, understanding immediately what had happened. The boy had lost his nerve and paused for a second too long, letting Kruger get away. It wasn't his fault. Not everyone had it in them.

Reaper patted him on the shoulder and rolled a cigarette. “We need to get back to shore.”

They took the Navetta back to the coast where they saw their friends on the dock surrounded by flashing lights and emergency services vehicles. Carvalho was leaning on the hood of his car and looking pretty angry. A few yards to his left Hawke and Lea were pulling up in a cab and now they were walking over to Scarlet and Lexi.

As Reaper and Ryan stepped off the Navetta they watched three black Escalades approach from the road to the north and then pull up alongside the dock.

Eddie Kosinski climbed out the back of the first Escalade and flashed his badge at Carvalho. The police sergeant was clearly expecting him and immediately waved him and his men through the cordon.

He marched up to the ECHO team as bold as brass and ran a hand over his stubble. “Pretty down these parts, huh?”

“Why are you here, Kosinski?” Hawke said. “

“A little bird tipped me off that there was something going down in Rio and you know what I did?”

Scarlet stared at him. “Tried to buy a personality online but couldn’t find any that fit your ego?”

“No — and that’s not funny by the way. What I did was get a few buddies together and come down here for a long weekend. You don’t mind if I join you now, right?”

“Who’s pulling your strings, Kosinski?” Hawke said, taking a step closer and squaring up to him.

“You know that saying about the world being on turtles all the way down? Well with me it’s bosses all the way up, Hawke. You know how it is.”

“If you want the man who tried to loot the Lost City,” Lea said, “he’s on a Jet Ski in that direction.”

Kosinski grinned. “Just leave that to us…”

“You don’t seem to be in much of a hurry to catch the bad guys,” Scarlet said.

It was clear whoever had sent the CIA down here knew a hell of a lot about what was going on, and Kosinski’s ‘little bird’ reference was a cheap shot trying to make him think Alex had been the leak. Hawke grinned, knowing how satisfying it was going to be when he finally crushed Eddie Kosinski. “You know, if I didn’t know any better I’d say you’re deliberately letting Dirk Kruger get away tonight.”

“Like you said, you don’t know any better.”

Kosinski gave them a sarcastic smile and walked over to the Navetta. “If you don’t mind, I have an ancient lost treasure to inventory.”

The ECHO team walked along the docks and looked back at Kosinski and his men as they removed the treasure from the Theia.

“We need to get to the bottom of Eddie Kosinski,” Hawke said. He crossed his arms and perched on the edge of a dock piling. “What do we know about him?”

“He’s smug,” Lea said.

“And a bastard,” said Scarlet.

Lexi sighed. “And he gets the better of us too many times.”

“And he’s CIA,” Reaper said.

“Right — so he’s working for someone at the CIA who knows about Dirk Kruger and his activities,” Hawke said.

Scarlet blew out some smoke and looked up at the stars. “Not to mention all that immortality stuff.”

“I think we need Alex to start digging round Langley,” Lea said.

“Agreed,” Hawke said. “She’s very good at that.”

Scarlet let out a heavy sigh and casually flicked her cigarette butt into the sea. “Come on, you bastards. Let’s go and get a drink.”