Matt Drake 14 - The Treasures of Saint Germain (23 page)

“Don’t worry,” Kenzie said as if reading his mind. “It’s a long way back to Zurich Town.”

“The light will start failing soon.”

The day was dwindling away, he knew. And although a vast illumination of light guided their way now, revealing every pitfall, he’d hate to be forced to take this route by night. Something told him the guards knew the way.

“Get ready, Kenzie.”

She rose, black-haired and lithe, a sword in each hand. She balanced on the footrests as Dahl squeezed a drop more power from the screaming engine. They came alongside the black snowmobile; the closest sentry swung his sword down in one hand whilst holding on tight with the other. Unbalanced, he appeared ungainly, but the blade came down no less sharply. Kenzie deflected it and sent her second sword thrusting into his midriff, then withdrew quickly. The man grunted and fell away, bouncing in their wake and spraying blood across the snow.

Another took his place.

Dahl inched the vehicle closer, tracks almost touching and spray pluming up all along the sides. The thin man merely stared at him. Kenzie fenced with the rear guard, deflecting and searching for an opening. A sharp hill made her stagger, their snowmobile catching air for three seconds alongside the other, but on landing she caught herself and sliced down at her opponent’s wrist.

The sword fell away, still attached to the hand.

The man jumped over at her, hitting their vehicle with a crash. She caught him and dropped a shoulder, sending him spinning over the seat. His remaining hand managed to catch hold of her foot, but the rest of his body dangled over the side, his feet scraping chunks from the earth.

Kenzie kicked him point blank in the face and turned her back as he tumbled away.

The next guard didn’t bother holding on, just came at her with both hands clasped around the hilt of his sword. Kenzie blocked as the two snowmobiles blasted over a stretch of level ground. Dahl saw an opening, steered again with one arm, and raised his handgun in the other.

Sighted on the driver.

The thin man—the High Master—suddenly came to life. His frail-seeming hands, until now clasped together, twitched and sent a black object spinning at Dahl. It struck the gun arrow-straight, made him drop it to the floorboards and let out a grunt of shock.
What the hell?
He’d seen the flash and gyration of a ninja star and was grateful it hadn’t lodged in his neck. Another twitch of the fingers and Dahl ducked, inadvertently swinging the snowmobile away. Kenzie staggered and the Swede felt a nick across the side of the face.

Don’t fuck with the Mad Swede, bro.

Kenzie was screaming in anger and surprise, but Dahl had no time for that. Teeth grating, he swerved the vehicle sharply with a quick turn of the handlebars.

They came together hard, ice and snow exploding all around the impact, sparks kicking off the engines and chunks of metal ripping free. Dahl clung on grimly, shouting at their enemies, still turning the handlebars so the vehicles stayed together. Kenzie grabbed hold of her opponent and tugged him free, jumping up as he tumbled clear off the back.

The last guard engaged her. That left the High Master and the driver.

Dahl took that responsibility.

At that moment, Lauren came speeding past, gliding along at high speed and then Yorgi, struggling with Kinimaka’s bulk but tweaking the throttle gamely to hang on to Lauren’s slipstream.

Dahl leapt across to the black snowmobile, planted his feet on the floorboards and faced the High Master. With one hand, and without looking, he made a motion. Kenzie’s spare sword flickered through the turbulent air, spinning, catching light, and then his fingers were clasping around the hilt and bringing it slicing down in a single motion.

The thin man held up a hand as if to ward off the blade.

Dahl shuddered as his sword came down on a heavy metal wristband, making it ricochet away. A thin stiletto appeared from under the black robes and darted at Dahl’s midriff. He fell back on the long seat, and brought his legs up under the man’s chin.

The head whipped back hard, neck muscles creaking. The driver glanced back, eyes terrified as they met the Swede’s. Dahl rose, sword high and brought it down hard. Behind him Kenzie parried and thrust, every second a blow, until her enemy was run through and falling, falling like an old marionette whose strings had all frayed away.

Dahl skewered the High Master, then bounded up beside the driver.

“One chance,” he said. “Jump the fuck off right now.”

The man complied. Dahl saw their own snowmobile, miraculously still attached to the black one, was now starting to drag, presenting a danger. He glanced back at Kenzie.

“Hop over there, love, and set that thing free. And throw me that handgun.”

Ahead, the battle raged.

CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR

Dahl saw Lauren come alongside the green snowmobile, her objective Sabrina Balboni, but trying to hide it. Yorgi ran his own vehicle hard in her wake. Two more motored on ahead: Webb’s and the lead one. Dahl looked over at Kenzie who now sped along at his side.

“Wanna help?”

“Not my forte. But hey, now that I have a sword I’m pretty much open for anything.”

Dahl pressed his mic. “Careful with the asset, Lauren and Smyth. Could still be useful.”

Yorgi went full throttle and swept up alongside and then past Lauren. He was in pursuit of Webb, someone they
could
take down with acute prejudice, and he had Kinimaka in tow. The Hawaiian weighed the back of the snowmobile down but clung on gamely, no doubt seeking any kind of vengeance being so close to Webb.

Dahl let Kenzie jump back aboard and then brought her close to the rear of the green vehicle. A sentry, brain no doubt frazzled with relentless rhetoric, actually leapt straight for them, arms and legs akimbo in mid-air like a flying lizard. The long blade he held vibrated as winds struck its fine steel.

Kenzie rushed forward, covering Dahl who didn’t bat an eye, just kept driving. She caught the oncoming blade six inches from his skull, kicked the descending man hard as he landed, breaking ribs and sending him tumbling overboard, crashing through the snow. Dahl swerved to avoid the body.

They sped up again. It would look suspicious if they didn’t attack the thief’s vehicle. Sabrina sat with her head down, eyes peering from under a hood right back at Dahl. Around her, sentries raged.

Kenzie grabbed the handlebars and shrugged. “Just shoot ’em.”

“Really? Have you had enough swordplay?”

“I want to get to Webb.”

“Yeah,” Dahl admitted. “Me too.” He fired three bullets and three men cartwheeled away. Sabrina stayed low, unthreatening and the driver didn’t even look around. Dahl gauged their submissiveness would be enough to pass them by.

“Now.” Kenzie balanced on the footrests again. “Be my rock.”

He smiled.

On to the blue snowmobile, and Dahl came up on the left as Lauren and Yorgi fought for position on the right. A swirl of sleet, a blinding blizzard, blew up all around the speeding contestants. Webb was trying to order men around. Dahl saw the confusion and despondence in their eyes. Today, they had lost a leader.

Where would they go next? At least three-quarters of them seemed to think sacrifice was a good idea. Kenzie stepped up and caught the onslaught of two men at the same time, their swords clanging together as they all hung off the sides of the vehicles. Dahl held it perfectly steady, Kenzie’s ‘rock’.

Kinimaka’s huge paw held a handgun which he used safely to pick off a robed man on their side; Smyth did the same. After that there was no more safety; the glide, bounce and swerve of the runners were always imperfect.

Ahead, Dahl saw the long slope coming up against a sparse forest and beyond it, he knew, lay the run into Zurich. It stood to reason that the Freemasons would have had a plan.

Then his thoughts were fully occupied as the treeline passed and they were suddenly among thick, branchless trunks. Kenzie knelt down to aid balance as Dahl swerved barely in time to miss one deadly obstacle and then skimmed straight past another, scraping paint from the vehicle and shavings from the tree. The white snowmobile, well ahead, came even closer, losing a mirror and a guard to an extra-wide trunk and twisting roots. The worst thing was that the hapless man just stuck there, in the roots, splayed as if caught in a spider’s web, instantly dead.

Dahl motored past, passing the command along to ensure everyone stayed low. Another huge trunk came up and then he flitted left and right past two more, a lethal chicane and one Drake would be pissed to know he’d missed out on. He grinned smugly.

The ground was terrifyingly uneven, one bump sending them high into the air, unable to steer, and aiming for low branches and the stem behind. At the last moment the runners hit the sparse snow at an angle due to Dahl and Kenzie’s desperate lean, then shot off past the tree. Their slant brought them sideways into Webb’s blue snowmobile, shunting it off course. It struck Lauren’s, then shambled back into forward position, its jarred riders stunned. Dahl was forced to veer widely away again as a giant pair of knobbled trunks blocked their path.

“You see that?” Kenzie called out.

Dahl could see nothing but snow and wood and hanging branches. “What?”

“A road ahead. If it’s the same one we came up on then it’s a direct run into Zurich. This can’t be blind luck.”

“So that’s it.” Dahl nodded. “Knew there had to be a reason.”

The snowmobiles plowed on, the fighting paused for now as the drivers struggled to keep everyone alive. The white leader took off over a ramp-shaped pile of snow, its driver standing, and came down with a double bump, now past the forest and careening toward the ribbon of black tarmac—prominent amongst the fields of snow.

Thunder shook the skies.

Dahl looked up, and although darkness stole among the white-gray clouds he easily spied the running lights of a pair of helicopters. “The cavalry,” he said.

“Or the cultists.” Kinimaka jumped on the comms.

“Too coincidental.” Dahl eased off the throttle as the edge of the forest approached. “How we doing for ammo?”

“Pretty damn good.” Kenzie wielded her sword and grinned.

The others sounded off; not bad after such outright warfare, but then they had come prepared.
Not in all ways,
he thought, glancing at the beast he straddled and then at Kenzie standing tall with her bloody blade. But the Swede had a soldier’s mind, a soldier’s brain, and made the next decision without pause.

“Lauren, Yorgi, you’re closest. You get Webb. We’ll go after the choppers.”

Easy to say, but the framework was clear in his mind. If they harassed the choppers before they landed the pilots would be forced to evade. He then got a look at the men sat inside the helicopters.

Not robed, not locals. Somehow Webb must have had them stationed in Zurich, and on stand-by. They wouldn’t back down.

Men leaned out of the descending choppers, feet planted on the skids, weapons pointed.

Dahl knew they were sitting ducks. But something didn’t quite sit right. Webb had called these men, sure, but where were the Freemasons going?

He pulled on the handlebars, spun the snowmobile behind a wide trunk as hellfire erupted from above. Bullets stitched the wood, driving huge splinters from the tree. Dahl and Kenzie ducked low. Through the comms he heard Kinimaka and Smyth grunting as they were shunted to safety and the remaining snowmobiles carried on.

Dahl didn’t take defeat easy. He leaned around the trunk, held the Glock in two hands and drew a bead on one of the chopper pilots. Return fire mangled his aim and the bullets shot up toward the clouds. All three remaining snowmobiles had stopped beside the road and one of the choppers was coming down hard, aiming right for the middle. As it neared asphalt mercenaries dropped out to take up perimeter positions.

“Too many.” Smyth cursed. “Too desperate. But they still have our asset.”

Dahl didn’t want to do this all again. He couldn’t fire blindly because he didn’t want to hit the master thief. “Next time,” he said, for no real reason. “We’re bringing grenades.”

Kenzie looked a little hurt, and Dahl had to admit she’d done more than her fair share for the team. Another volley of gunfire swept the treeline, keeping them pinned down. A new sound now roared out of the encroaching darkness, and bright lights flashed and bounced from earth to skies. Dahl knew that sound.

“4x4s,” he said. “Coming up the road. So that was the Freemasons’ getaway.”

The helicopters boomed, their rotors spinning mightily as one took off and the other pulled up. Dahl saw only the robed warriors remaining and the face of Tyler Webb pressed against one of the chopper windows. The man was grinning.

Got what he came for.

But Sabrina was in there too. The day wasn’t totally lost.

“Now,” he said. “Let’s go grab ourselves a couple of vehicles.”

CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE

The team exploded from hiding, engines revving and runners skidding. The robed men heard them coming and formed a cordon around the 4x4s, but Dahl had no intentions of slowing down. As the line came up he blipped the throttle, and saw the looks of fear flash into his enemies’ eyes as they saw his intentions.

“Don’t fuck with me,” he growled.

Smashing men aside, he threw the handlebars sideways and the vehicle into a slide. Kenzie slashed down with one hand whilst holding on with the other. Her sword clanged once, twice, then cleaved through bone. Men went sprawling. Dahl lifted his gun as the snowmobile slowed, squeezing off three shots. From the right came Yorgi and Lauren; Kinimaka and Smyth laying down the fire. The robed warriors ran at the slewing snowmobiles, fanatics to the last, some striking at the metal with their swords, others falling as they slashed at those aboard. The car engines roared as their drivers saw what was happening.