The Seven Seals of Egypt

CHAPTER THIRTY

Drake saw legs and torsos approaching the sideways truck. Luther was already prepared, machine gun lying along his right leg, aimed at the mercs. Drake patted Nielson everywhere before finding the keys, uncuffing himself and then handing them to Dahl.

“I know what you’re doing,” Luther said without moving a muscle. “Making one more mistake to add to the ledger. Don’t.”

Drake rooted through the upended crate, finding grenades and guns. “First time we’ve been free in a while, mate. Feels good.”

“You are not free.”

“I beg to differ,” Mai said. “We hold all the guns. And they’re trained on you.”

Luther grunted. “It will do you no good, Kitano.”

“Well, I’ll give you this,” Kenzie said appreciatively. “You sure do have balls.”

“Like steel.”

“But you are lacking in the brains department, my friend,” Mai told him. “Surely by now you can see you need us.”

Luther didn’t reply for a moment; even from behind Drake could see his shoulders and muscles working as he struggled.

“I need no help from prisoners,” he said. “Especially enemies of the state.”

And, as the legs got closer, Luther opened fire, shearing some off at the knee and shredding others. At the same time he shimmied himself down the truck and through the tailgate, finally able to stand and face the enemy as he wanted to — head on.

They ranged all around him, at least ten men with semi-autos. Still firing, he waited for the hot death of a dozen rounds.

Fury smashed and burned all around him. Wounded and dying men, the fires and smoke of crashed vehicles, the evil thunder of gunfire; it was the very place where he’d been born to die, and he’d known it from around the age of six.

The HK fell on an empty mag. Never giving up, never resting, Luther whipped a new one out and slammed it home. By then, of course, a dozen men had him lined up in their sights.

Ah, shit.

And then glory stung the battlefield, and Luther’s very soul, as the SPEAR team streamed around his left and right sides, a torrent of violence and surprise attack, a surge of death gunning for the very men that had incarcerated and tortured them. Luther stood strong at the center, picking attackers off one by one, and the SPEAR team lived up to every expectation he’d ever heard, chasing the bullets down, running into danger, facing the worst of the worst and tearing their ruthless lives to shreds.

Luther’s second truck fared in a similar manner to the first, its disavowed occupants jumping into the fray after slewing to a halt. When Luther looked around, and all too soon, the second pursuing turret-gun vehicle was pulling up, closely followed by the one remaining standard truck.

“Go, go,” Drake cried. “Into the desert. Run!”

Luther saw his two surviving people among the others. The kid, Pine, and the diva, Carey. It would be hardest for them.

“Move it!” he cried. “We have more safety in numbers for now.”

Later on, he would re-evaluate that statement.

Drake aimed for the high desert mounds after checking everyone was together. The group didn’t bunch in case Vladimir and his mercs decided to empty a mag in their direction. Drake ranged ahead, ignoring the sweat and the heat, the deep sand that dragged his steps down, the aches, pains, cuts and bruises he’d suffered in the arena.

This was desperation survival now; the end game to end it all.

“How far to that road?” he asked Luther, the man’s huge head about all he could see on his right periphery.

“Last check had it two miles,” came the low reply. “That way.”

Drake altered the direction of his run. Behind he saw Alicia, Dahl and Kenzie, followed by all the others, heads down and running easily. Crouch was being helped by Smyth and Kinimaka, but the Englishman looked to have perked up.

“Chocolate goooood,” Drake called to him.

“Anything is good when you’ve been beaten, tortured and forced to fight for over a day.”

Drake nodded, thinking: It’s not over yet, pal, and slogged on. Behind them he saw Vladimir and Saint’s frames vanishing in the heat haze, but noticed how the mercenaries were lining up.

“Bastards are giving chase,” he said. “Vladimir must be scared of his masters. This FrameHub? What do you know of them, Luther?”

“Fuck off, Drake. We ain’t friends.”

Drake shrugged as Dahl chortled. “Our charismatic leader,” the Swede said. “Working at the top of his game.”

“Maybe I can help,” Alicia panted from behind as they jogged up an incline. “After all, I’m pretty sure we’ve…”

“I remember you,” Luther growled. “Yeah, it took me a while but I remember you now.”

“There you go,” Alicia said as if they were now all good friends. “Problem solved. Sometimes bumping uglies can be useful too.”

“We bumped heads, not uglies,” Luther said, legs pumping hard. “You worked for the other side back then, Myles. Seems you still do.”

“I did?” Alicia frowned. “Stop being such a smug shit. America and all its covert agencies change sides every week. You’re just an order taker, Luther. Might as well work at a restaurant.”

Luther rumbled like an angered bear.

“Guys,” it was Hayden speaking. “Can you stop trying to make friends? I thought we established that’s not your forte.”

Drake stopped at the top of the rise, shading his eyes as he gauged the lay of the land. The desert stretched to all sides, in places flat and in others composed of rolling dunes. Far away to the east he thought he spied a narrow black strip.

“There we go,” he said. “Good call, Luther. I guess even a grunt can be right once a day.”

“You got a problem with grunts now? We can settle this right here, asshole, if you wanna.”

“I have no problem with grunts,” Drake set off. “Just wankers that follow blindly.”

“You were like that once,” Crouch called over. “It’s how they shape you.”

“True,” Drake admitted. “But then I was still a teenager.”

Luther looked over as they ran carefully downhill. “Army man straight outta school?”

“Yep. Never knew nothing else.”

“Same here. Parents almost killed me.”

From the rear of the pack there came a shout from Mai. The Japanese woman had ranged back a little to get a feel for what was following.

“Twenty armed mercs, including Vladimir and Saint. Get a move on.”

Drake was worried. The mercs were relatively fresh, trained and hungry for blood. They had their boss with them who, no doubt, was eager to finish and probably earn a decent pay day. Thinking it through, he decided the road was too far.

“Plan B,” he said.

Dahl chuckled. “Not that old maxim.”

“Always works,” Drake said. Quickly, he shouted out a strategy and received a plethora of thumbs-up.

“How many rifles we got?”

Three shouts — Kinimaka, Smyth and Pine — one of Luther’s boys.

“Can you handle it?”

Three affirmatives.

“Then do it. Mai, you hang back to supervise it.”

Drake slowed as they found their positions. Kinimaka ran to the right, a hundred paces; Smyth to the left. Pine remained at the center and Mai watched over it all. They hunkered down on one knee, sighting carefully until the enemy were in sight.

Drake led the pack away at a steadier rate. Hopefully the shooting would cause confusion and mayhem among their pursuers, bringing the road into the options scenario. Of course, it was merely a road and who knew how well traveled it might be?

The shooting began behind them. Measured, even shots designed to take out the lead runners. Kinimaka, Smyth and Pine were well covered back there, able to concentrate and fully trust that Mai had their safety as her priority. So far seven gunshots had rung out with no return. The signs were good.

“Wish we had comms,” Drake said.

“Y’know,” Alicia returned. “That’s becoming the new proverb.”

Luther ignored them and moved over to his remaining protégé, a woman called Carey. Drake heard him checking on her spirits. Carey seemed capable, but quiet, reserved. Drake wondered if it was her first outing with Luther.

Bad luck.

Taking down the SPEAR team was never, ever going to be easy.

Drake paused now, taking stock. The road was visible ahead and random cars were running along it. He wondered what Vladimir had done with the remaining vehicles. Carefully, he checked the status of those that guarded their backs.

Running now. On the way here.

Then we’d best be ready to help them. The wolves would be at their backs.

He wiped sweat from his brow in rivulets, looking at Dahl.

“Plan B worked,” he said. “How about a C?”