The Plagues of Pandora

CHAPTER THIRTY NINE

Drake saw eight rope lines dangling from the assembled choppers. The combined thunder from their rotors was more than deafening; it was a sheer onslaught to the senses. Keeping his sense of balance as low as possible he ran hard, following Dahl, hoping the mad Swede had some kind of plan.

Dahl skidded to a stop at the edge of the roof. “Whoa, didn’t expect that.”

Balls.

Drake tackled a merc around the waist, forcing him to the ground. Alicia’s weapon barked. Mai peppered pilots with devastating ammo. Two choppers jerked violently as their pilots reacted, sending men tumbling from their ropes.

But still more men landed than the five could deal with.

Trent smashed his stern visage into a merc that landed just in front of him, then faced three more. A wild shot skimmed his midriff. Mai vaulted in gracefully from the side, using hands and feet to raise bruises and break bones. Trent joined her in the melee, battering his opponents with heavy strikes.

Dahl stared over the edge of the roof. Alicia skidded up to him. “What the fuck’s up, Torsty?”

Drake ground his teeth. “That’s a long drop, mate.”

“No!” the Swede said. “There!”

He sidestepped several times to a new position, right above a bright red soft drinks machine.

“Ya thirsty?” Alicia wondered. “Or in need of caffeine?”

Dahl jumped three feet to a lower thin brick ledge, then to the top of the drinks machine and, without pause, leaped off and landed with a roll across the grass. Then he was up, gun raised.

Drake shook his head. “It better be as easy as it goddamn looks.”

Alicia turned, opening fire as several men converged on their position. Mai and Trent were steps away, the west coast man flinging a struggling merc face-first to the floor. Even Alicia almost winced as the man bounced.

“Nice move.”

“Where to?”

“Ah, down…”

Drake jumped, landing briefly on the ledge and using it to spring forward so that he landed atop the drinks machine. From there he bounced and rolled just as Dahl had, becoming slightly tangled in his weapon’s strap but still retaining dignity.

Alicia covered Trent as he jumped down. Then she waved Mai forward but the Japanese woman smiled sadly.

“You first, Taz. This is part of my burden, I believe.”

Alicia shot a looming merc. “You looking to die, Little Sprite?”

“My own fate is out of my hands now.”

Mai sprayed the mercs, giving them much to consider as Alicia made the jump. As she fired she plucked a smoke bomb from her vest and flung it. Mercs shouted and dived for cover, not knowing the type of grenade she’d used. Mai used the distraction to skip stylishly to the floor.

“A tad better than Yorkshire style,” Dahl observed.

“One thing I’ve thankfully never been accused of,” Drake said, “is having too much style.”

The Swede moved to the side of the building just as men approached from the front parking lot. Before they could blink, the team were under fire again.

Sirens wailed in the distance.

Crouch sprinted the length of the balcony as men shot at them from below. Caitlyn ran behind him, sheltered by Healey and Russo, both returning fire. Behind them raced Silk, Radford and Yorgi. The remainder of the company jogged in the opposite direction, splitting the enemy forces.

Crouch reached a door and yanked it open, herding the others through. Healey headed straight for the stairs.

“Move it,” Crouch told Yorgi, the last through. “There are civilians here. We have to vacate asap.”

The Russian made eyes at him, probably wondering “Ya think?” and slipped one leg over the staircase handrail, passing their frontrunners as he slid down. Not the best of decisions, since he was a non-soldier and that put him first in the firing line, but one he couldn’t now change. Yorgi flew off the end of the handrail and landed face-first onto the carpet of the hotel lobby. Crouch flew down after him but Russo, seeing the danger, leaped three steps at a time and hit ground level almost simultaneously.

Mercs were entering the front doors, spilling into the lobby. Russo saw a side door, yanked Yorgi up with one hand and headed right for it. They were halfway across the lobby before they were spotted.

A shout went up. Guns swiveled. By that time Crouch and the others were behind Russo and already firing.

The hotel lobby erupted in a hail of gunfire. Potted palms disintegrated and turned into dust motes flitting through the air. Plaster exploded from the walls in large white chunks. Glass shattered, raining to the floor. Crouch and his team dived and rolled and crawled through it all, covered in debris, faces turned away from the worst of the flying wreckage. Most of the mercs remained upright and paid the price, struck by jagged pieces and razor-sharp shards, badly aimed bullets and falling candy-bar dispensers. Others fell back through the doors they had just entered, sprawling outside. Crouch hit Healey’s scrambling feet but rolled on, falling through a fragmented hell, blood trickling from a dozen cuts and gashes. Russo lumbered through the side door without even thinking of stopping to open it, the man-mountain tearing the hinges right off. Staggering outside, he still held the entire door as mercs descended on him. Russo swung it to and fro, knocking assailants aside like bowling pins.

Crouch was the last to enter the parking lot as his team covered their flanks. Some way off to his right he had already spotted Drake’s impromptu team, keeping pace with them. His mind turned to thoughts of the others.

Hayden led the team that ran across the balcony in the other direction, followed mostly by SPEAR members with the addition of Special Agent Claire Collins. Kinimaka was beside her as always, positioned between her and the exposed railing. Hayden pushed her body hard, wondering if she’d feel any discomfort from the now relatively old gunshot wound, but felt nothing. Great news, considering the position they were in. Hayden slammed open the door, ducked as a stray bullet shattered the glass, and slipped through. Karin came next, pushed by Komodo. Smyth and Collins brought up the rear, untroubled by the mercenaries below.

“Bastards are aiming at the other guys,” Collins barked. “Even after I wounded two of them.”

“I know one way to help.” Hayden hastened down the staircase, finding it led to the rear of the property. On cracking the door she had a side view of the enemy. Quickly she turned back.

“Ready?”

Many weapons were raised in answer. Then Komodo said: “Wait. Where’s Smyth?”

The irascible Delta soldier muttered only three words in repetition as he pulled up in the line of fire.

“Comin’ for ya. Comin’ for ya.”

The room number jumped out at him, the sight of her lying so vulnerable, so drained it would be forever seared into his mind. Bullets sprayed the wall above, stitching a new line there. He smashed in the door with a kick as his comrades sprinted out of sight.

“Comin’ for ya.”

Lauren lay helpless, connected to tubes, with nurses hovering and looking scared out of their wits.

“Does she have a chance, any chance at all, without these damn tubes?”

“Not long,” one of them responded. “But then she doesn’t have long anyway. Take this.” She held out a long syringe filled with a clear mixture.

“What the hell is it?”

“A little something to slow her metabolic rate. Drastically. It should give you a few extra minutes.”

“Why not give it to her now?”

“Because if you do, when she wakes, everything will speed up and she’ll die faster.”

Smyth understood. “I’m all for Hail Mary passes,” he said. Damn, he knew exactly where all this was coming from.

Romero. That ass!

Goddamn Romero had gone and got himself killed whilst running from the Blood King’s men. Smyth had loved that overgrown ass and would gladly have taken the bullet. Now — Lauren had gone down under his watch — not in actual fact but since when did that matter? — and now he would give everything to save her.

Smyth scooped her up, the lifelessness of her body causing his mouth to draw into a thin white line, and pocketed the syringe. “Lie low,” he said. “They’re not here for you. We’ll be luring them away soon.”

Outside, he sprinted after his group.

Hayden moved out soundlessly, slowly, not wanting to draw any attention. The first merc to see her died with a shot to the forehead. As the rest turned her team opened fire, sending them cartwheeling and dropping desperately to the ground.

“No time to waste.” Hayden swiveled and raced for the side of the building, the parking lot ahead. To her right, Crouch’s team were already in fast motion and far beyond them Drake’s team.

Choppers lifted off the roof above, their guns rattling, and dozens of mercs surged from the hotel behind Crouch. Hayden dropped to one knee.

“Cover them!” she cried.

Her team knelt beside her.

“Fire!”

Mercs collapsed as they converged on Crouch’s team.

Behind her, Smyth placed Lauren in the center of their defensive guard and faced the other way. “Rear guard,” he barked. “Fire!”

More assailants dropped behind the hotel.

Hayden dropped a raised fist. “Fire!”