Greene's Calling: Seventeen Book Three (A Supernatural Action Adventure Thriller Series 3) (39 page)

Though no shots reached the Seahawk, the helicopter came under increasing attack from the gunmen on
The Ariana
.

‘Eight hundred meters!’

‘In range!’ said the gunner a second later.

‘Fire!’ yelled the tactical officer.

The machine gun juddered as the gunner pulled the trigger. Bullets tore into the yacht, chipping the wooden decks and aluminum superstructure. Sun-lounger beds and armchair cushions exploded in a shower of sponge and foam. Splinters fogged the air. The gunmen fell back.

The Seahawk swung closer to the vessel.

‘Get ready!’ the tactical officer shouted at the three immortals and the agent. He raised his hand in the air as they swiftly discarded their headsets.

The gunner continued to lay down bursts of suppressive fire. Glass shattered below, fragments sparkling in the sun.

The tactical officer dropped his hand sharply. ‘And
go
,
go
,
go
!’

Conrad kicked the cord hooked to the external hoist over the edge of the open door, wrapped his gloved hands and feet around the thick cable, and fast-roped to the yacht. His boots struck the sun deck of
The Ariana
seconds later.

Shots sprayed the wooden boards several feet ahead of him. He raised the M16 rifle and returned fire as the others came down behind him. The gunmen retreated toward the stairs on the starboard side.

A cry suddenly shattered the air.

‘Harry!’ Laura screamed a heartbeat later.

Conrad’s head whipped round, fear squeezing his chest in a tight vice. Stevens had been shot in the leg. Though he clung grimly to the rope, the agent slid down too fast and hit the deck hard. He crumpled to his knees, his face a mask of agony. Laura rushed toward him.

‘No!’ yelled Conrad. ‘Cover me!’

She faltered.

Conrad raced past her and reached the crippled agent. He grabbed the man under the shoulders and heaved him into the cover of a large bed lounger. Laura turned and joined Anatole as he discharged his M16 at the armed crewmen on the opposite side of the deck.

Conrad ignored the hail of gunfire and tugged his gloves off, his pulse racing wildly. He pressed his left hand against Stevens’s bleeding thigh and unleashed his immortal powers. The agent released a hiss of pain as the bullet migrated forcefully back along its entry path. The bloodstained shot dropped to the ground while the immortal concentrated on repairing the torn muscles and soft tissues beneath his fingers.

He moved his hand down Stevens’s legs and fixed the two hairline fractures in his right tibia. The man suddenly relaxed beneath his touch. Conrad looked up into his stunned gaze.

‘That—that was—’ Stevens stammered.

‘Save it for later!’ snapped Conrad. He rose to his feet, pulled Stevens up, and jerked him close by the front of his tactical uniform. ‘I swear to God, kid, if you dare die and make Laura cry, I’ll bring you back just so that I can kill you myself!’ he threatened. Stevens smiled shakily and bobbed his head.

They stepped around the bodies of four gunmen and joined Laura and Anatole where the two crouched at the top of the staircase leading to the lower levels of the ship.

The Seahawk pulled up in the sky behind them and headed away from
The Ariana
.

Nadica paced near the outer doors of the main salon, a Glock 19 in hand. Zoran saw a shiver of rage dance along her limbs as she studied the damage inflicted to the yacht by the Navy helicopter. Gunfire sounded above, where the crewmen of
The Ariana
engaged the enemy who had landed on the boat.

Her knuckles whitened on the gun. ‘
How dare they!
’ she hissed.

Zoran’s gaze switched to the laptop in front of him. ‘I don’t understand,’ he said between clenched teeth. ‘The explosives at the first four targets failed to detonate.’ He glanced at the remote controls inside the briefcase on the desk.

‘Is it Ridvan’s equipment?’ snapped Ariana.

Zoran shook his head. ‘No.’ Trepidation filled him. For the first time in decades, he felt they might not achieve their goals. ‘I think they may have discovered the locations of the boreholes.’

Conrad gasped and bent back sharply at the waist. The tip of a Turkish sword skimmed the air inches from his chest. He blocked the next two strikes with the handguard of the M16. The man on the other end of the sword glowered at him. Conrad’s eyes darted across the deck, his breathing hard and fast.

From the way the crew of
The Ariana
fought, it was obvious they were willing to lay down their lives for Mustafa Muhlisi’s bloodline. Judging by the array of scimitars and sabers that had suddenly appeared in their hands, it was also evident they were gifted swordsmen.

Conrad leapt out of the way of the swinging blade, dropped his rifle, and yanked his staff weapon from his back. He twisted the second ring and unsheathed the short swords.

The crewman’s eyes gleamed as he studied the shimmering steel. He raised his own sword and charged. Conrad warded off his strikes, the short blades moving seamlessly in his grip. The man growled and continued his relentless attack. Although he had talent, the crewman was still no match for the immortal. Conrad yanked the bloodied, twin swords out of the man’s body a moment later. The crewman crumpled to the ground, eyes wide in a pale face as he gazed unseeingly at the blue sky. The immortal scanned the deck beyond his still form.

Anatole had appropriated a saber from one of his victims and was fighting two armed figures on the other side of an external dining space. The blade glinted in his grip as he wielded it in deadly arcs.

Some eight feet to his left, Laura used the stock of her M16 rifle to deflect the thrusts from a large carving knife held by
The Ariana’s
glowering cook.

Conrad retrieved the sword at his feet. ‘Laura!’ he yelled and pitched the blade in the air.

She kneed the cook in the groin, raised her hand, and caught the sword by the hilt. A fierce smile flashed across her lips as she glanced at him.

Stevens stood braced near the port railing, his empty rifle lying at his feet while he clasped his FN Five-seveN in a double-handed grip and steadily picked off one crewman at a time.

Conrad grabbed his discarded M16 and cast the weapon toward the agent as he ran past him to the spiral stairs leading to the main deck. Bullets scored the treads when he was halfway down the steps. He cursed, jumped over the handrail, and landed nimbly on the floor below.

More shots winged through the air toward him. Conrad darted into the limited cover of the staircase as the bullets thudded into the steel frame. He peered through a gap in the structure.

Nadica Rajkovic stood framed by a pair of sliding doors some twenty feet away, the barrel of her Glock flaring repeatedly as she fired the weapon. Her face was livid with fury.

Conrad crouched behind the center pole of the spiral stairs and gripped the short swords tightly, blood pounding in his ears. Chips of wood rained down on him while he waited for the telltale click of the empty magazine. It came in a matter of seconds.

He rose and bolted across the deck.

The woman’s eyes shrunk into slits. She tossed the Glock away and backed up, her hands reaching under her jacket. A pair of kilij blades materialized in her grasp. Swords met sabers a heartbeat later. Conrad fended off a flurry of blows and cast a glance at the figures in the room behind her.

Ariana Rajkovic was pulling a pair of gilded, curved swords from their wall mounts, her face flushed with anger. She turned and threw one of the blades to Zoran Rajkovic, who fielded it smoothly.

Conrad’s gaze landed briefly on the metal briefcase atop the table next to Mustafa’s heir. It was the one Nadica Rajkovic had taken into her possession in Paris.

A kilij sailed past his face and sliced a sliver of hair from his temple. Conrad staggered back and almost lost his footing on the wooden floor.

A wild smile distorted Nadica Rajkovic’s face. She stooped and lunged forward, her arm swinging up in a lethal arc. The kilij sliced Conrad’s abdomen from his left hip to his right ribcage. He gasped as searing pain flared across his body. Laura’s enraged cry sounded somewhere on the steps behind him. Conrad gritted his teeth and retreated from Nadica Rajkovic’s fast-moving blades while he healed the gaping wound in his stomach.

Laura appeared beside him and swung her sword at Nadica, hazel eyes blazing like the sun. ‘Go!’ she yelled at Conrad.

He darted through the doors behind the fighting women and headed for the metal briefcase. Ariana Rajkovic stepped into his path. The Crovir immortal glared at him, her lips pinched in a pale line. She brandished her sword in a practiced move. Conrad parried with the twin short blades. Their weapons locked.

Ariana leaned toward him, her fingers white on the handle of her sword. ‘Why couldn’t you leave well alone?’ she hissed. ‘Our kind could have shared this world!’

Conrad studied her grimly between the interlocked blades. ‘The immortals would never engage in mass genocide!’

Ariana smiled thinly. ‘From what I know of your
immortals
, they have been guilty of much worse in the past!’

Conrad scowled. The woman was right. ‘That might be so, but they know better now!’ he retorted. ‘The world has changed and we with it. Both Suleiman and Mustafa would know that if they were alive today!’

Ariana’s eyes turned to molten silver. ‘How
dare
you speak his name!’

She attacked, the blade flowing skillfully in her grasp with each brutal move. Conrad countered with deft swings of his twin swords, heart thrumming rapidly in his chest as they moved across the salon. She was a better swordswoman than her descendant.

A startled gasp suddenly sounded to the right, where Anatole clashed swords with Zoran Rajkovic. Ariana inhaled sharply.

Mustafa’s heir gripped his arm and retreated a couple of steps. Crimson drops fell to the pale floor from the wound the red-haired immortal had inflicted.

A howl of rage erupted from the direction of the sliding doors. Nadica spun beneath Laura’s blade, kicked the immortal hard in the stomach, and raced across the room toward Zoran.

Laura staggered across the deck. Stevens came up behind her and caught her before she fell. The agent twisted on his heels, dropped to one knee, and fired at the crewmen charging down the spiral staircase.

Nadica raised the sabers and rushed Anatole. Sparks rose where she struck his sword with the kilij blades. The immortal grunted and backed up under her savage assault.

Ariana wielded her sword in a tempestuous swirl. Conrad took an unconscious step back as the edge of the blade hummed past his skin, his short swords up to ward off the wild blows. His legs struck the edge of a low table and he stumbled to the floor, a curse bubbling up his throat. Instead of striking him where he lay, Ariana ran to where her descendants now fought Anatole and Laura.

‘Take the case and leave!’ Ariana barked. She grabbed Zoran’s blade and stepped in the path of the two immortals’ swords.

Nadica and Zoran Rajkovic faltered, their gray eyes filled with anger and a trace of fear.

‘I’ll be fine!’ Ariana said between gritted teeth, the swords dancing in her grip as she fended off multiple blows. ‘Now,
go
!’

Nadica whispered a tortured ‘Ama!’ from pale lips. Zoran snatched the metal briefcase from the table and grabbed the younger woman’s arm. He pulled her toward a doorway to the rear of the room.

Conrad jumped to his feet and went after them. He saw Ariana’s eyes widen in alarm and heard her mumbled ‘
No
!’ as he flashed through the arch.

He cleared an empty dining room and reached a small foyer with a spiral staircase. Footsteps faded toward the upper deck. Conrad scaled the stairs at a dead run, air leaving his lungs in harsh pants.

He reached the landing and looked around wildly, sweat dripping past his eyes. A door swung close to his right. He barged through it and was greeted with a burst of close-range gunfire. Bullets slammed into his chest and legs. Numbness bloomed along his skin as his body reacted defensively to the multiple injuries.