The Seven Seals of Egypt

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

“Come on. Come on!” Alicia berated them all. “Come up with a damn plan. They’re torturing him up there!”

The screams had endured for the best part of half an hour now, with little let up. They could hear Saint laughing, shouting, cajoling. Drake had dragged them all around the cell, ignoring the guards and their torments, searching for a weak spot. They found nothing. Now, those in the middle of their huddle were attempting to find a fault in their chains.

A guard shouted at them in Arabic. Alicia spun and hurled a rock at him. The missile struck the bars but made him jump back in shock. No weapons were raised. Again, the temperature was their enemy, rising by the minute and making everything more uncomfortable. Crouch’s screams were unrelenting, and Alicia knew he was once a trained soldier.

Retired, living his life more hassle-free.

They should never have gotten involved. Crouch was living a fantasy and they were on the hoof, runaways. Hunted. Where would it all end?

FrameHub were chasing something, not just conflict between nations. The American splinter cell were chasing something, not just the downfall of SPEAR. Luther was chasing something, not just death and destruction. The Chinese and the British were chasing something, not just the Sword of Mars. And now she, and all her friends, were caught in the middle.

The only way out was to finish it. End it all so they could come out the other side and taste the freedom once more.

Then Crouch’s screams abruptly stopped. A strangled cry rang out, and then nothing. Alicia stared fearfully up the passage.

A guard spoke in Arabic, laughing. Kenzie translated it: “We return him to you later. A part every hour.”

Then Alicia saw them gathering — a dozen guards and then more. Guns were poised and so were other weapons. Some held clubs, baseball bats and even rocks. Others brandished steel bars and one, a heavy leather whip. Alicia rose slowly as she sensed something big was happening.

Drake and Dahl shushed the others, everyone rising to their feet as a silence settled. Alicia got the impression that they were about to find out exactly why they were here.

Saint came rushing up. “Hey, hey,” he called. “I’d forget my own head if it were loose.”

“What have you done to Michael?” Alicia asked.

“Urm, he’s helping us with our enquiries. Or he was. But never mind that. You people have far worse problems to worry about.”

Alicia bit her tongue, tensing every muscle in her body. The rage was waiting to be unleashed.

“We’re taking you out of there. Now, we doing it the fun away like before or are you gonna come quietly?”

“Looking forward to cracking your skull.” Dahl rolled both shoulders.

The guards attacked as before. This time Kinimaka smashed an opponent’s skull, leaving him prone and unmoving. Dahl rendered two more unconscious, but still the range of movement was crippling, the confines thwarting every attempt to gain an advantage. The guards had weapons, fresh hands. They had once been soldiers themselves.

Five minutes and Alicia was outside the cell, her hands cuffed at her back, legs hampered by more manacles set at a length that hindered movement. The others waited at her back, dripping blood and flesh torn. They were all soaked through, sweating freely and filthy. Alicia was glad to see heads held high and faces unflinching.

To a person, they were plotting escape.

Saint no doubt knew that too. He was careful, clever. He positioned men away from the line and every four meters or so, always with line of sight. He put other men with automatic weapons at the front and rear of the line. He made sure every member of the SPEAR team knew there was a personal sight lined up on them.

“Go.”

As one they shuffled off, arms already aching from the tight restraints. The passage led deeper into the cave system inside the mountain — or hill as it may be — they hadn’t seen it clearly from the outside. Every meter a dull torch glowed. Ahead, Alicia saw nothing but an arched passage leading somewhere unknown. The guards were all around them.

They passed an internal cave, a niche in the wall, where Crouch surely had to be, but saw nothing of the man. Alicia saw blood on the floor though and her old boss’s watch lying on a table.

Saint shouted out. “Keep the line going. Nothing to see there.”

Alicia stopped, peering closer. A guard flew at her face and she headbutted him away. She saw blood pooling around Michael’s watch, and dripping to the floor. She saw a mound of something thrown into a corner but, in truth, it could have been anything.

A heavy club came down on her back, staggering her. She moved on, still being beaten. The cave passed by. Ahead, after a while, and through a haze of pain, she saw light. Bright light. The passage started to lean in a downward direction as it headed straight for the unsettling glare.

Alicia stopped walking right at the edge of the light, a guard’s hand held upright and palm outward in the recognized gesture. It gave her a moment to study what was on the other side.

Saint came alongside. “Welcome to our inferno, boys and girls. They might not treat you well here, but I doubt you’ll complain overmuch.”

Alicia was awestruck. The cave system branched off here to a vast, stepped hole set in its very center. An inverted dome, open to the skies, but surrounded by the mountain so that nobody ever knew it existed.

Nobody except FrameHub, maybe.

The walls were uneven, offering seating, and the almost perfectly round floor was flat. Pure, undiluted sunshine flooded the entire inverted dome, making it fry. Alicia saw hundreds of men already seated around the sides, stripped to the waist, bottles of beer held in their hands, an assortment of guns and other weapons lying casually across their laps. When one of them saw Alicia at the entrance he pointed, and caught the attention of others, and soon all eyes were looking upward.

A cheer went up, almost a roar.

Saint propped an elbow on her shoulder. “Show us your mettle, Alicia,” he said. “It’s time to shine.”

He pushed her forward and the whole chained-together line started off once more, shuffling along at a steady pace. Just as slowly, the arena they were entering took greater shape. The large, round ring of sky; the sun starting to rise over the eastern tip of the bowl. More and more mercenaries sat waiting, eager and animated. Threats were called out, issued as fast as junk mail. Saint pointed Alicia to a narrow channel that had been hewn into the rock.

“You want me to walk down that? Chained together like this we’ll all be skating.”

“I don’t care how you do it or what happens to you. Just get down before I push you down.”

Alicia clenched her fists, barely able to stop herself launching an attack at Saint right now. It was the presence of her friends chained at her back and the unpredictability of the outcome that poured ice-water on her fury. When she regarded the channel again she saw it had a large amount of uneven footing which, in this instance, would help.

“You coming?” she asked Saint.

Their jailer grinned. “All the way.”

They inched down the slope, urged on by the beer-swilling mercs, all the way to the bottom. It was much hotter down here. Alicia recalling seeing people frying eggs in this kind of heat.

Saint mopped his brow as they came to a halt, scooped up a bottle of water from a completely incongruous cool-bag resting on the floor by his feet. It was bright blue and sported a pattern of stars around the top.

“You’re fighting for water,” Saint said, then swigged half the bottle. He threw the other half into Alicia’s face which, in truth, was a blessing.

Saint turned to a guard. “Untie Myles. She’s up first.”

Alicia felt her chains loosened and then she was free of the restraints and the chain. Instantly she lunged at Saint, but the man stepped back fast and a guard with a gun nipped in at her side. His weapon was pointed at her legs.

“Your choice.” Saint smirked. “Either way, you’re gonna fight.”

Alicia saw sense and backed off. Guards were everywhere and stationed around the floor of the bowl in a rough circle. Guns were held ready, not easily. Saint made it clear he would only unchain one person at a time.

She saw no way out of this.

She wiped her face, getting the last droplets of water and transferring them into her mouth. Since they had taken her Kevlar and jacket, she was left with a white T-shirt and combat trousers. The direct sun burned her exposed skin.

Saint raised his hands and stilled the crowd. He turned three hundred and sixty degrees, grin flashing, stubble gleaming with sweat.

“First bout,” he said. “Alicia Myles versus the MMC.”

A cheer went up. Men and women in the crowd stamped their feet and tapped their rifle butts against the floor. Some whistled. Many more called for blood.

“You killed some of their friends,” Saint whispered out of the corner of his mouth. “Our bosses thought this a good way for you to go out. We did too.”

He backed away, the eternal laugh piping out of his mouth. Alicia didn’t take her eyes from him. “What’s the MMC?”

“Oh, just a pet name. It stands for massive meaty chap. There’s always one in every fight. Enjoy!”

Alicia stood on the floor of the arena, vision full of blinding sunlight. Grit scraped beneath her boots as she shifted stance. Sweat coated her entire body and dripped off her face. She was ready to fight, focused, determined to help her friends by winning; by always looking ahead and never back.

From an alcove across the other side of the ring a shadow moved. It came around the corner — large, bulky, moving at a slow pace. Alicia waited for it to emerge, then saw a man the size of Kinimaka, but with added muscle and a little more height. His face was hard and crisscrossed with scars. When he set eyes on Alicia he boomed out a peal of laughter.

“This?” he bellowed. “All you bring me is this?”

Alicia harnessed her rage. Here, finally, was a target she could unleash on. And size had never bothered her. Truth be told, she mused. In some instances it had its advantages. Or so experience told her.

Saint shrugged. “She is the first. She did us all wrong. Do not make it quick.”

The MMC slapped his bare chest. “It will be hard with such a twig, but I will do my best.”

Alicia stalked to the center of the arena. “Twig? What… are ya trying to date me?”

“Date?” The MMC looked startled. “Never, I prefer my women with more meat on their bones.”

“Really? To me, you look like you prefer men.”

The MMC roared. Saint held up a long, bloodied machete, ready to start proceedings. “Maybe don’t talk to her,” he suggested calmly. “This ain’t Jimmy fucking Fallon.”

The machete carved a slice of air.

Alicia planted her feet in the center of the arena.

Her adversary charged.