The Orpheus Legacy

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

With bullets ripping into the fire door and licking up the smooth plaster wall behind it, they sprinted down the utility corridor as if the devil himself was on their tails.

“This way!” Jazmin screamed. “This leads to a loading bay used to deliver some of the heavier pieces.”

They burst out into the stark light of day, slammed shut the fire door and got their bearings. “We’re parked around here,” Lea said. “Hurry!”

A heavy thump as Mukendi booted open the external fire door and screamed insanely at the sky. “I see them, King!”

As Kamala reluctantly pulled her weapon and put her body between Jazmin and the mercs at their backs, Hawke saw their SUVs through a hedge. Zeke was in the driver’s seat of one and Camacho was at the wheel of the other, arm hanging out of the window. When the Blood Crew started firing on them across the loading bay the former CIA agent snapped to alert and fired up the engine. Hitting the gas hard, he powered his SUV across the parking lot, smashed through the hedge and swerved to a halt in between the rest of ECHO and the Blood Crew.

Zeke immediately followed suit, ramming his Escalade through the hedge and screeching to a stop beside Camacho.

“Get in!” the Texan yelled.

Camacho leaped out of the driving seat and opened his side door. “Let’s get out of here!”

Hawke swung open the side door on the other Escalade. “Everyone in the cars!”

Lea ducked to avoid a bullet. It traced over her head, and punched a crude hole in the rear panel of the idling vehicle. Another bullet ricocheted off the Escalade’s driver’s wing mirror and tore through Zeke’s upper arm.

“Holy shit!” he cried out in pain. “Fucker bit me!”

“You okay?”

“Sure. It’s just a flesh wound!”

Hawke swung open his door, turned and raised his Glock. Using the door for cover he emptied his mag all over Kashala and the rest of the Blood Crew. “Move over, Zeke!”

The Texan gripped his bloody arm and clambered over the console between the two front seats. “She’s all yours, Hawke!”

Hawke moved to climb into the Escalade. A scream in Hungarian echoed off the high brick walls of the museum’s loading bay — when he scanned the area to locate it, he saw Chumbu and Demotte dragging Jazmin Benedek away toward the other parking lot.

“What the hell happened?”

And then he saw it.

Kamala Banks was lying unconscious on the asphalt behind Camacho’s Escalade.

“Everyone into the cars, now!” Hawke sprinted around behind the two SUVs until he had reached Kamala. Picking her up in one powerful lift, he hefted her over his shoulder and carried her back to the cars, bullets nipping at his heels with every pace.

Lea stared through the windshield, now pock-marked and punctured with bullets and saw the horror unfolding across the loading bay. The young Hungarian woman was kicking and screaming until Chumbu delivered a chunky backhand slap and knocked her out cold.

“They’ve got Jazmin!” Lea called out. “We have the lyre but they’ve got Jazmin!”

Hawke revved the Escalade and signaled to Camacho through the window to get going. “We can’t let them take her. We all know what they’ll do to her to find out what she knows about the lyre. They’re going to take her around to the Yukons so we have to head them off!”

With Hawke in the lead, they raced around to the main parking lot. The sound of squealing tires alerted them to the arrival of another Yukon which now swerved to a halt beside the Blood Crew’s other vehicles.

Seeing Kashala and the rest of his team piling out of the museum and heading across the lot toward their getaway cars, Hawke leaned his arm out of the window and fired on them, instantly striking Kashala in the upper arm.

“Was that for me?” Zeke said with a smile. “You guys!”

Hawke said nothing, firing again on the Congolese mercs as their general spun around and dropped to the floor like a sack of potatoes.

“Did you kill him?” Lea asked.

“No such luck — just winged him.”

Now, several heavily armed mercenaries wearing tactical vests and multiple weapons holsters emerged from the vehicles and took up defensive positions until a horseshoe perimeter had been formed around Kashala.

Chumbu and Demotte pulled Jazmin into one of the Yukons while two of the other men sprinted over to their wounded leader. Around them, the Blood Crew opened a savage fusillade of cover fire over their heads. From what he could see from the multi-position adjustable stock and dioptric sights, Hawke thought they looked like the latest Kalashnikov AK-308s.

In an impressive display of speed and bravery, two mercs dragged Kashala to his feet and hooked each of his arms over their shoulders. Under an umbrella of relentless cover fire, the two men carried their leader over to the back of a Yukon and bundled him inside. With the boss safe, one slammed the rear door down while the other spun around and fired again. Sweeping the muzzle of his rifle back and front, his face was illuminated in red and white lighting from the muzzle flash.

Now Kashala was in the back of the Yukon, the rest of the mercs pulled back fast, leaping into the two other SUVs and slamming their doors. The vehicles sped away in a cloud of dust and gas fumes.

Hawke knew he had seconds to take at least one of them out. By now, Kashala’s SUV was too far away and partially obscured by the backup vehicles. These men knew what they were doing and they did it fast. He calculated that if he couldn’t bring the boss down, then one of the other Yukons would pay half the fine.

Selecting burst mode on the Glock 18, he aimed at the Yukon in the rear, raising the handgun into the aim and taking his time as he lined up the shot. Crosshairs planted on the right rear-tire he fired the preset three-round burst and ripped the rubber right off the rim.

The explosion of the rear right tire sent the heavy SUV swerving off to the side, just as Hawke knew it would. He was ready. Without hesitation, he swung the gun to the left and fired another three-round burst into the left-hand tire. It exploded into another shower of shredded rubber and now the SUV was running on its rims at the back and spewing wild jets of orange sparks out across the blacktop.

The wounded Yukon swerved and skidded for a few seconds before leaving the road and crashing into a concrete barrier. It came to a smoking, smouldering stop and when the doors opened, the dazed mercs spilled out into the day. Some carried weapons but others were empty-handed. It didn’t matter. The vehicle burst into flames and a colossal, chest-thumping explosion followed a second later.

Hawke shielded his eyes from the heat and light, guessing it must have been a ruptured fuel line, a leak, just a spark… and then it was all over and the mercs were dead. He swivelled the gun around to the second Yukon only to see it screeching around the corner and vanishing from sight.

“They’re getting away, Joe!” Lea said. “We can’t let them take Jazmin! She hasn’t finished decoding the lyre!”

“Getting away,” he said, revving the Escalade. “Not got away. Let’s get on it!”

Racing over a bridge crossing the Danube and hitting the eastern part of the city, Hawke hit the throttle and the Cadillac surged forward. As the rev counter needle swept almost all the way over to the right, he spun around another street corner, eyes fixed on the fleeing Yukon. They gained speed and reached fourth gear when he stamped on it a second time and sent the automatic gear box changing down again for the next corner.

“He really wants that lyre,” Hawke said.

“That’s because he really wants to discover Hades!” said Lea.

“You’re being too hard on him,” Ryan said. “From what I’ve seen of him so far it might be possible he just has a keen amateur interest in ancient Greek lyric poetry.”

“Thanks for that, Ry,” Lea said. “But shut up now.”

“Simply lightening the mood with a dash of sarcastic observation.”

“If you really wanted to lighten the mood,” Scarlet said. “Why not try opening the car door and jumping out?”

“Ouch, Cairo Sloane.” Ryan leaned back in his seat and placed his hands over his heart. “No one has ever cut me so deep. I’ll never quip again.”

“Thank heavens for small mercies,” Lea muttered.

In the rear seat, a dazed Kamala was gaining consciousness. “What the hell happened?”

“No time to explain now,” Lea said.

Hawke piled the SUV forward, crashing through a fence and ploughing down a steep embankment until they reached the next road.

Scarlet leaned out of the window, raising her gun and firing on the second Yukon. The initial burst of rounds was wide, smacking the asphalt and ricocheting off in every direction. Ignoring Ryan’s cynical congratulations, she aimed and fired again.

The first round ripped the paint off the rear right wheel arch and carried on its way. The second punched a hole through the rear window and reduced the rest of it to an opaque mess of spider-fractures. The third went through the driver’s skull and killed him instantly.

“Good shot!” Lea said.

“Not so sure about that,” Hawke said.

The swerving Yukon smashed into a traffic light pole and spun around hard, tipping on its side and skidding to a halt right in front of them.

Hawke spun the wheel but they were too close to the upturned SUV. “Bloody hell! Brace for impact everyone.”