The Sword of Fire

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Ryan stretched his arm and extended his fingers as far as he could in a bid to reach the rivet shaver. It was millimeters beyond his grasp and Bruno’s knee was pushing down into his throat.

“Now we see what happens when a diamond blade goes through a human skull, no?”

Ryan watched, helpless as the stronger man lowered the panel saw toward his face. The blade reflected the LED work lights strung beneath the two and a half ton Bell and the terrible whining sound was a hundred times worse than anything he had heard in any dentist’s room.

The Italian laughed and nodded his head up and down with enjoyment as the whirring blade neared the young man’s face. He waved it back and forth to prolong the agony and increase the pleasure he was taking in torturing the young man.

“Now, for your skull!”

Ryan heaved against the man’s weight, but he was just too heavy. He still had his arms pinned down and a knee in his throat… and the blade was a millimeter from the skin on his forehead. He screamed in terror but the sound of the cutter drowned out his desperate pleas for help. Ryan imagined the blade biting into front of his skull and wondered how long he would be conscious; how long until he finally passed out from the fear and the pain.

Worse, now Bruno had him pinned down, a large man emerged from the office to the rear of the hangar and walked casually over to the fight. “You want some help, Bruno?”

“No, this bastard’s mine. You get Mr Zito and Kruger out of here.”

“Roger that. Enjoy!”

The man laughed, walked across the tarmac and climbed up into the Agusta’s cockpit. The engine whirred faster and then the helicopter lifted into the air and started to fly toward the main house.

Ryan cursed. Not only was he going to die, but he had failed his one mission — to sabotage the Agusta. He clamped his eyes shut as the blade drew closer to his face and prayed for a miracle.

They were walking back down the slope toward the maze, but Kruger pulled up a few dozen meters short of it and set the leather bag on the smooth, clipped lawn. Vermaak was covering Hawke and Lea with a Milkor BXO submachine gun and their hands were tied behind their backs. Zito keeping well back from everyone, and now Kruger scanned the sky for a few moments before taking a few seconds to look at his watch.

“This should just about do it.”

Hawke took a step forward. “What’s going on, Kruger?”

“I already told you — we’re going to change the world today, and we’re going to see what this sword can do when you really open her up. People will talk about this moment for the rest of their lives, believe me. There’s not man or woman alive who won’t remember exactly where they were at this precise moment.”

Hawke saw the same scepticism in Lea’s eyes that he felt in his own heart. With the exception of the carnage caused in the maze, the scene around them was the archetypal English country garden: birds sung in the chestnuts and ash trees, a gentle breeze combed through the acers lining the croquet lawn, and the scent of freshly cut grass drifted in the warm air.

Then the silence was broken. They both heard a chopper approaching and moments later the Agusta appeared over the top of the mansion and slowly descended onto the lawn. “Oh no, Joe! Scarlet’s team must have failed.”

“Maybe,” he said calmly. “But don’t write them off just yet.” He turned to Kruger. “I thought you were going to attack Buckingham Palace?”

Kruger looked at him sharply. “Whoever told you that?”

“I have my sources.”

“Then you should get new sources. The target is right here.”

“Oh my God,” Lea said. “They’re attacking Windsor Castle!”

Kruger and the others shared a laugh. “No, the target is right here in this garden.”

Lea looked confused. “I don’t understand.”

Kruger and Vermaak shared another short, sneering laugh and the arms dealer checked his watch one more time. “Or more precisely, above this garden.”

And then they heard the sound of an approaching aircraft. Hawke recognized the sound at once; it was a wide-body jet with four engines. Moments later this was confirmed when he saw it in the distant eastern sky.

“Oh my God,” Lea said. “You’re going to use that thing to shoot an airliner out of the sky!”

“And not just any old airliner” Kruger said. “That’s Air Force One.”

“Oh my God!” Lea cried out.

“Alex is on that aircraft!” said Hawke.

Lea took a step forward but Vermaak tutted and raised the gun to her face.

“You bastard, Kruger.”

Kruger gave the order and Vermaak raised the Milkor to Hawke’s temple. Kruger pulled Lea away from the Englishman and cut the cable tie holding her hands behind her back. “The sword, Donovan. Raise the sword, or Adem here will blow your man’s brains out all over this pretty lawn.”

“Don’t do it, Lea,” Hawke said quietly.

“Joe… I can’t let them kill you.”

“Now!” Kruger screamed, and Vermaak pushed the gun harder into Hawke’s temple. “And you try and turn that thing on us and you’re both dead before you move an inch.”

Lea’s world started to spin. She was in an impossible position. She had to commit a terrorist atrocity with the sword’s ancient power, or watch the man she loved shot dead in front of her.

When it came down to it, there was no choice.

She picked up the sword and raised it to the sky. They all instantly felt the same intense crackling and buzzing all around them. She gripped the sword tighter now as it drew static electricity from the air and began to glow a wilder, brighter blue. The buzzing increased as it started to convert the energy into a live current. Her mind raced to think of a way out of this nightmare, but one look at Hawke with the gun at his head was all it took to keep holding the sword.

Through all of this, Kruger was nodding with approval. “Say goodbye to the President.”

Ryan’s eyes were still shut when the miracle happened: the panel saw motor cut out and the blade stopped whirring.

He opened his eyes and looked up to see Bruno as he stared at the tool with uncomprehending eyes, but Ryan knew what had happened — when the Italian had pulled the saw down to his forehead he had pulled the power lead out of the mains and cut the power.

Bruno pulled his other hand up to study the saw and the young lad from London seized the moment. With his new free hand he swung his arm like never before in his life and piled a haymaker into the Italian’s left temple.

The blow knocked Bruno over and he tumbled away from Ryan, allowing the younger man to scramble to his feet and do whatever it took to save his own life. Using what he had at hand, Ryan snatched up the saw’s loose power lead and wrapped it around Bruno’s neck, pulling it as tight as he could around the soft flesh of his throat and choking him.

Bruno coughed and spluttered as he tried to push his fingers under the black cable and pull it away but Ryan had wound it around twice so there was zero chance of that. He was red in the face and the veins on his temple and neck were bulging like blocked fire hoses.

Bruno stared up with terror at the chunky skids of the Bell, suspended a foot or so above the floor by virtue of an aviation jack. The mechanic had been working on the chopper, and now Ryan was dragging him over towards it.

He tried to scream and beg for mercy through the cable that was still choking him. “No!”

Ryan was unmoved, and dragged him along the floor with the power cable. As soon as Bruno was directly under the skid he knew what he had to do. When the Italian was in place Ryan had a second to act before he would be able to wriggle free, so the instant he had him in place he released the tension on the cable and hit the release on the jack.

Bruno’s screams lasted for the full half second it took for the enormous chopper to crush him, and then they stopped. Ryan looked away at the moment of death, but the sound of the man’s body bursting open and his head flying off would stay with him forever. He knew that much.

Without looking back, Ryan Bale sprinted from the hangar and headed back over to the field outside. As terrible and violent as it was, he knew those few minutes fighting with Bruno would change the rest of his life, and now, as he moved into the battle to fight beside his friends one more time, his change was complete.

He was a stronger man now, mentally and physically, hardened like steel by the bitter experiences he had suffered: the deaths of Sophie Durand and Maria Kurikova and now the brutal murder of Bruno. Yes, it had been self-defense, but there was nothing stopping him running from the hanger when the Italian was choking on the floor. He had stayed and finished the job the way Hawke or Scarlet or Devlin would do — because that was what you did when you had a mortal enemy: you fought to the death or they would rise up and kill you later. He understood that now.

He sprinted around to the rear of the hangar to find Scarlet and Devlin helping Kim to her feet. He knew they had to get back to Hawke and reunite the team but then they all saw something that stopped them dead in their tracks. A wide-bodied jet was flying to the north of the property, around three or four thousand feet high and a strange blue lightning was crawling all over its aluminum skin.

“My God,” Devlin said. “That maniac Kruger must be testing the sword out on a jet!”

“It’s a 747,” Ryan said, holding his hand up to shield his eyes from the sun’s glare. “There could be four hundred people on board!” He rubbed a shaking hand over his face. “And if it’s under attack that means Joe failed.”

“We have to get over there!” Scarlet cried out.

“Wait… that’s not any old 747,” Kim said grimly. “That’s Air Force One!”