The Secret of Atlantis

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Reaper thrust his arm though the aperture at the bottom of the screen where documentation normally changed hands, and grabbed Hajji by his necktie, pulling him forward hard until his face smashed into the acrylic screen giving them a terrible technicolour view as his lips split open and his nose broke. Reaper repeated the exercise a second time and knocked the man out, then he released him and he slumped back into his soft chair.

“Eh bien, what now?”

Joumari looked at the unconscious body of his colleague and winced. “He had that coming,” he said, darting around the other side of the reception and taking Hajji’s keys. “And the armoury is this way, follow me.”

They followed their Moroccan guide along a grimy corridor before turning a corner and finding themselves standing before a chunky iron door. Joumari pulled the keychain from his pocket and opened the door to reveal a small room which smelled vaguely of gun oil and tobacco. The armoury was where the prison secured rifles in the event of a major riot in the prison.

They moved into the room and Reaper kept watch as Joumari unlocked one of the gun cabinets. By the time the Moroccan was unlocking the ammunition container Hawke had already selected three rifles and checked them over but when they stepped back out into the corridor two large guards were waiting for them.

Hawke moved first, pushing Joumari back into the armoury and powering a meaty punch into the first guard’s face. He felt the nose give way under the force of the strike and a squelchy crunching noise confirmed it a split second later. The guard staggered backwards and gasped for air as the blood from his broken nose poured down over his top lip and into his mouth.

A few yards to his left, the former French legionnaire was bringing a heavy steel toecap boot up into the second guard’s groin. He howled and doubled over, just in time for his face to meet with Reaper’s right hand, now tightened into a heavy and dangerous fist.

Hawke’s man had gathered his thoughts and after regaining his balance he padded over to the Englishman with one thing on his mind, and this time drew his service pistol to underline the matter.

Hawke saw it coming and charged into the fray, disarming the man with a savagely fast and violent twist of his wrist. The man screamed as his wrist broke and dropped the gun to the floor, but Hawke wasn’t dropping down a gear until his opponent was out for the count. With no chance for the man to fight properly with a broken wrist, Hawke knew his opponent was a wounded bird, and decided to be merciful. He smashed a high-velocity hook punch into his right jaw and cracked his head back against his neck, knocking him out instantly.

Reaper was now heavily engaged with his own battle, powering a vicious salvo of punches into the smaller man’s stomach and winding him harshly. The man gasped and panicked as he strained to get air into his lungs but Reaper was relentless with the punches.

Hawke made a big show of leaning against the wall and checking his watch. “Going to be much long, Vincent?”

Reaper ignored it, spitting some blood on the floor and then smashing a brutal shovel hook into the nerves behind the man’s right ear. He dropped unconscious to the floor a heartbeat later.

“You finally took him out,” Hawke said with a grin.

“I like to fight with a flourish,” Reaper said, dusting off his hands and wiping the blood from his mouth. “I spar with finesse… you belt things.”

Hawke clapped him on the shoulder and laughed as they went back inside the armoury.

“What happened?” Joumari said, poking a nervous face outside the door and seeing the two unconscious guards.

“We had a small disagreement about visiting times,” Hawke said.

Freshly armed, they moved through the shadows until they reached the custody area. When the three men approached Khatibi’s cell and pulled the keys out the other prisoners began to roar and whoop and bang on their cell doors. Despite the location Hawke was surprised by the strong smell of hash in the cell block, and moved fast to unlock Khatibi’s door.

Hawke peered inside and saw a short man with perfectly combed hair and an expensive jacket. A pair of tortoiseshell glasses perched on an aquiline nose and concealed two dark brown eyes. “Who are…”

Before the sentence had left his lips, Hawke and Reaper burst in and grabbed Khatibi giving him no chance to respond or even talk. Both men had trained for extractions like this and both of them had done it more than once for real so it took seconds to drag him down the corridor and through the reception area.

As they burst into the street a number of soldiers had positioned themselves on the roof of the police station and were putting some heavy assault rifle fire on the Pajero.

Hawke was surprised by the speed of their reaction and knew there was no way they could cross the street and get to the Pajero without getting turned to Swiss cheese by those rifles. He made a split-second decision and yelled at Lexi to get away and a second later the Pajero was skidding along the avenue. He breathed a sigh of relief as it turned a heavy left and got out of range of the snipers.

But he was still exposed and so was Reaper and Khatibi.

“What now?” Reaper said.

“This way!”

Hawke and the Frenchman grabbed Khatibi’s arms and hauled him up a flight of steps which led into a small garden area to the south of the police station. “This place is like a rabbit warren,” he said. “We’ll lose them in here and coordinate with Lea to rendezvous with the car.”

“Who are you?” said the old man, in a panic. “What do you want?”

“Relax, Professor Khatibi,” Hawke said, grunting as he pounded up the steep, blue steps. “We want to talk to you about Atlantis.”

“About Atlantis?” Khatibi said. “Are you crazy?”

Hawke was considering how to answer this when a chunk of wall twelve inches from his head exploded in a blast of bright blue plaster and sprayed all over him. He turned to see the soldiers were closing fast, able to move much quicker without the extra weight of a hostage.

Reaper pulled the PAMAS from his holster and opened fire on the soldiers. They hit the deck and rolled to the sides of the stone alleyway. “I can’t keep them back forever, Joe…”

“What do you mean… Atlantis?” Khatibi asked again. “This is nonsense.”

“We haven’t got time to explain,” Hawke said, fixing his eyes on Khatibi. “Will you come with us?”

A second gunshot exploded into the stone steps at their feet and kicked up another cloud of the blue paint and fragments of rock chips.

“We have no time. Do you want to help us find it or not?”

“I…”

Hawke rolled his eyes and pulled his phone from his pocket. A second later the professor gasped when he saw the photos they had taken of the carvings back in the Tomb of Tanit. “Ya Allah! Where did you get this?”

A third shot nicked Khatibi’s shoulder and tore his jacket. His eyes widened with horror as he realized he was now a fugitive. “I have little choice.”

“In that case run for it!”

The three men sprinted up the stone steps and rounded a corner. To the east a crescent moon was rising above the ghostly blue town.

“So what now?” Reaper asked,

Hawke pulled out his phone again and started to make a call.

“What are you doing?” Khatibi asked nervously.

“Nil desperandum, Dr Khatibi,” Hawke said. “Just calling a cab and then we’re out of here.”

“But we need to get to my house. I need my papers.”

Hawke gave him a look and sighed. What is it with professors and papers? “Fine,” he said. “We’ll take the cab to your place.”