Weapons of the Gods

CHAPTER THIRTY

Hayden wasn’t wrong.

Chaos and bedlam fell upon them, almost as if Luther himself was a jinx, attracting a turmoil of death and destruction. Drake pushed open the rear doors and then Cambridge was shouting in their earpieces, warning them that Whitehall had intercepted a communication from the bank with the message: Engage.

The noise began. Drake heard and saw what happened next as an elongated moment in time, a slideshow of dreadful events. First, the terrorists struck hard. Windows across the entire second floor of the hotel burst out amid flames and a roar of detonation. The cops outside ducked, yelled and the vehicles rocked as glass and debris shattered down among them. A second explosion soon followed.

At the same time there came a muffled whump from directly below. The mercs were blowing the safe.

And then, as the SPEAR team crowded past him, the bank’s highly polished, white-marble floor partially collapsed right in front of them. Cracks appeared at first and then a rough hole the size of a Smart car just fell away.

“What the—” Alicia approached it.

Drake went with her, equally perplexed. They waited a moment, staying low so that even their silhouettes wouldn’t be seen from the outside. Kenzie had a genius moment and switched the interior lights off at the precise moment of the second explosion.

“I think they cocked up down there,” Alicia whispered.

Drake peered into the hole very carefully, allowing his eyes to take in the scene half a meter at a time. A wall had been blasted apart, its edges now standing ragged and damaged. Within that wall stood a wide door with a gray wheel at the center, the entrance to the vault. The door was unmarred.

“They totally screwed the pooch,” Alicia said. “Backward, forward, and upside down. Shit.”

Two mercs lay dead on the floor, another wounded. Four more stood around scratching their heads. Drake heard noise from outside the bank and saw the Egyptian strike force jumping out of the van and storming the front of the hotel. Cops drew beads on the windows with their guns. Fires raged. The street was a wreckage-strewn battleground.

“I hate that we can’t help,” Dahl said.

“That’s what we’re trying to change,” Hayden answered, looking down. “Are they trying again?”

Drake saw that they were. “We should retreat,” he said. “Fast.”

Seconds later a lesser explosion could be heard across the road just as a slight blast came from below. Drake covered his ears, being close, and prayed that the entire floor wouldn’t collapse. By the time he looked up a chorus of cheering started to ring out from below.

Second time lucky.

Maybe not.

He sprang forward, gun up, the rest of the team at his side. They reached the hole seconds later, just in time to see the four men below pulling open the vault door. One slipped inside whilst the others stood guard near the descending staircase.

Drake looked from the staircase to the hole. Dahl crawled up beside him. “Whaddya think, Yorkshire Terrier?”

“I think we should throw you over first, then use your belly as a soft-landing pad.”

Dahl grinned. “How about we all go together?”

“Oh, no. I…”

But then Luther and Molokai were alongside and grinning all too familiarly. The Mad Swede had them hooked. With barely a pause the three men arranged themselves around the hole, giving first dibs to Dahl, whose idea it had been.

“See ya downstairs, Yorkie,” Luther said.

Drake groaned. Now even he was saying it.

Dahl leapt in first, knees tucked in, holding his weapon carefully as he fell through the air. Molokai and Luther were right behind him. Without an instant of pause Drake and Alicia followed them.

The room below became very crowded.

Dahl smashed down onto the shoulders of one of the four mercs, grinning, using his incredible strength and the descent to knock the main out cold. Not even a whisper escaped the merc’s lips as he fell.

Luther and Molokai hit next, the former able to bring an elbow crashing down on the back of another merc’s neck. The blow was staggering, devastating. The merc went instantly limp and crumpled without knowing what had killed him.

Molokai came down last, landing close to the center of the vault door itself, looking inside. Two mercs remained standing and both were in there.

Drake hit the floor just as Molokai ran at them.

The mercs were at a total disadvantage, not only because they faced this devastating, throwback, fighting machine clad in dusty scarves. The tallest held the Flail of Anubis; the shortest held the large metal container that had housed it.

Molokai attacked the shortest, striking whilst his arms were occupied, a blow to the stomach and the head. Drake darted around him, raising his gun.

“Don’t move.”

The merc hesitated. His gun rested on the floor between his legs. Molokai looked up from the merc he’d just destroyed.

“Make a move for it.” The feral growl was a death knell. “I dare you.”

Drake sensed the others behind him at the door. The merc let the head of the flail hang — it was a thick rod of iron, the black surface inlaid with archaic patterns, a chunky chain leading to the lethal metal head where a cluster of blunt spikes jutted.

“You gonna attack us all with that?” Smyth laughed. “Good luck.”

The merc sensibly relented and Drake made sure he lived, securing him in the vault. When the man protested Hayden crouched down before him.

“What did you expect? A ticket to the cinema? What can you tell us about the men that employ you?”

“Man called Tilt employs me,” the answer came grudgingly. “Twelve of us. I don’t know who employs him. He just calls ’em ‘the bosses.’”

Drake had expected standard practice among criminal enterprises. This merc’s “bosses” would be yet another shield of disassociation before they approached the layer that was Tempest.

“Is he here?” Alicia looked around at the dead bodies — some from the botched explosion, others at the hands of Dahl’s mad antics.

“Nah, he’s up top. Waiting for the artifact.”

Kinimaka leaned over the merc, his bulk the shadow of a mountain descending. “Why do they call him Tilt?”

“He got vertigo issues. Something wrong with his inner ear.”

“We should go.” Hayden turned away. “This goon can’t help us any further.”

They marched out of the vault, leaving the merc to his own devices, and climbed the stairs back to the first floor. A quick check through the front-facing windows showed the street outside still in chaos, the hotel opposite on fire, its brick fascia cracked and crumbling. Police and military dashed back and forth, and the roadway was full of vehicles. They could see blue flashing lights washing over the windows, and approaching ambulances.

“Go,” Hayden said before they could dwell. “Don’t stop.”

Quickly, they filed up out of the stairwell and through the bank’s rear doors. Mai carried the flail, wrapping it in her coat as she moved. Kenzie was the last to leave.

Outside, the Alexandrian night was dry and warm, with a light mist of sea spray in the air. They took a route leading away from the bank, mostly traveling in darkness. It would be a short run back to the waiting chopper and then…

Drake counted the weapons off in his head, surprised.

The last weapon was the Forge of Vulcan, which was next on their list. A sense of urgency crept among his thoughts — reminding him they hadn’t managed to contact the President yet, they were still fugitives, and Tempest were still busy creating a significant camp full of terrorists and seizing more ancient weapons.

For the material it was made of? Perhaps.

If that were the case, no single government should be allowed to possess it. He wondered for the first time if Cambridge and Whitehall were aware of its significance.

Cynical? Yeah, but that’s how we stay at the top of our game.

A mile-wide, tree-lined park, replete with skateboard ramps, swings, a climbing-frame and hard benches, marked the place where the chopper returned to. It was emblazoned with the crest of a local firm and would have clearance to fly — yet one more favor from Whitehall. As they approached the area, Hayden called the chopper pilot.

“No reply,” she said.

“Maybe he fell asleep,” Alicia suggested.

“Anything’s possible.” Mai wrapped the flail tighter and peered at the darkened windows all around, the empty pre-dawn street and the park that lay a hundred yards ahead. “Try again.”

They came closer, now able to make out the chopper’s bulk as it waited inside the park, shrouded by trees. The silence was eerie, and the presence of so many windows unsettling. Drake reached the gates, finding them wide open.

“I think we need to take this—”

He never finished. From out of the shadows came the rest of Tilt’s force. No shots were fired; there were too many houses and civilians behind darkened windows for that, but eight men rushed at them so suddenly it was all they could do to defend themselves.

Drake, unbalanced, staggered to one knee as a large merc shoulder-charged him. Dahl resisted a similar attack but still retreated. Mai rolled clear and Alicia backed into the metal railings that surrounded the park. The others were similarly beset, barely managing to dodge blows, knife thrusts and knuckle-duster attacks. Their own close-quarter weapons were tucked away or sheathed. Only Molokai managed to reach unerringly into the folds of his scarves and come out with a machete.

Kenzie stared as if he was the world’s greatest magician. “Oh, wow, so now I’m arou—”

Mercifully, the rest of her sentence was lost as a merc sideswiped her, sending her sprawling to the hard ground. The same merc jumped on top of her, trying to pin her down. Drake, off balance, fought his attacker hard. It had been a shocking rush of men; the team only surviving several knife attacks by experience and reactions alone. No words were spoken. Three of his friends were on the floor. Alicia was pinned against the fence. The mercs fought hard to keep their momentum going.

Drake pulled his knife and fenced an attack away, the blades striking fiercely. Turning, he managed to unbalance Alicia’s attacker even as he fended off one more strike from his own. Kenzie rolled her head as a knife flashed down. It missed by millimeters, the point sparking into hard concrete. It went back up and then down again, Kenzie saving herself by reaction alone. Now though, she was able to bring her arms up between their bodies and force the knife-wielder to reposition.

Luther met a second charge by stepping swiftly back then bringing his head down onto his opponent’s forehead. There was a sickening crack and the man fell comatose, a rag doll, possibly even dead.

The SPEAR team were recovering already, and less than a minute had passed since the initial attack. Sixty seconds was a long time in a fight, especially hand-to-hand combat. They weren’t unscathed. Kinimaka had taken a knife in the back, right where his spine met his tailbone. Saved by the stab vest, it had still hurt tremendously and it was all he could do to fend the merc off before a second blow to the vest made him roar like a cornered bear. Smyth had also taken a vest-blow, then grabbed his opponent’s wrist and tried to nullify the weapon.

Mai let the Flail of Anubis fall, waited for it to wrap itself from her jacket, and then swung it at the nearest head. The heavy steel ball flew up under a man’s chin, snapping his head back and breaking bones. It came around again, swung by an expert, smashing his jaw from the right and then his temple from the left. Mai moved on to the next. An overhand swing planted the spikes in a man’s scalp, and then became a sideways wipe into another’s cheek. The swinging flail put the SPEAR team back on top.

Then Drake’s opponent held out a hand and a cellphone. “Listen,” he hissed. “You have to listen to this.”

The mercs stopped their onslaught, panting. Drake started at the man and the phone. Hayden helped Kinimaka to his feet.

“I’m sorry,” a voice said. “They have me.”

Drake didn’t recognize the voice at first. Hayden frowned.

Mai spoke up. “It’s the chopper pilot.”

Drake stared into the darkness of the park. The chopper sat in a pool of solid darkness, thirty meters away, but as he watched, somebody shone a flashlight onto the face of the pilot. No other figures were visible but the threat was clear.

“We only want the flail,” the merc said. “Give me the flail and your pilot lives.”

Mai didn’t hesitate; just walked forward and handed it over. The mercs melted away, sliding back into the darkness.

Hayden started walking toward the chopper. “Not good,” she said quietly. “They planned this as a redundancy. If we didn’t know before, we can be damn sure that Tempest know we’re in the hunt for the weapons.”

“So what do we do next?” Kinimaka asked.

“We beat the bastards to the last one.”