Matt Drake 8 - Last Man Standing (13 page)

Drake stepped back. “Bollocks to it.”

With a short run up he too dared the blaze. Sharp, sizzling tongues licked at him from every angle, hungry for flesh. A brief crackling sound struck his ears, striking a fervent desire inside that the sound wasn’t his own burning flesh.

He landed on two feet, still running, hot but alive, charred maybe, but still on mission.
Duster was in the process of rising from his prone position. Mai angled toward him. Dahl came from another angle.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Drake managed, panting.

“Got tired of waiting,” she said.

“Wotcher
,” Duster cried, madness in his voice as he stood up to the odds. “Bin waiting to try this little baby out f’meself fer weeks. Now it’s bagged me five million quid.”

Drake saw in his hand a black plastic box and beneath his thumb a tiny red button.

Mai sprang for his throat.

“No!”

Mai ploughed into Duster at chest height. The look of surprise flew across the assassin’s face almost as f
ast as the plastic box flew out of his hands. Drake fought the choices—help Mai or try to secure the box. If it landed red-button down the odds weren’t good for survival.

Dahl
had veered toward the box, an eager fielder racing for the catch of the game.

Drake ran and slid in. Duster hit the ground as Drake arrived, eating a good chunk of boot and dirt for his trouble. Mia’s leap had taken her beyond the two of them, and now she landed cat-like
, already turning.

Duster groaned.

Drake let his eyes flick toward Dahl. Even Duster was trying to see what happened, cringing slightly.

Dahl flung himself forward, one hand out, as the plastic box came down to earth. Tumbling,
tumbling, it hit, but Dahl’s palm was there to catch it before it landed. Furthermore, he managed to grip its square edges, preventing the little red button from striking his palm.

“Fucker land
ed face down,” Drake shook his head. “Always does.”

Dahl’s outstretched hand gripped the trigger harder now, the button a hair
’s breadth from his skin. He sat up, grinning. “You’re out.” He nodded at Duster.

Alicia’s voice could be heard through the dwindling flames. “Are you idiots all right in there? What the hell’s going on?”

But Duster wasn’t done yet. With stamina born of years of hardship and fighting he rolled and jumped to his feet, running hard for the wall of flame. Drake knew the assassin could have traps and stashes all over the castle; allowing him his freedom wasn’t an option. Thinking on his feet, he grabbed one of the big, tumbled wall stones and flung it at the man’s back. The blow sent him reeling, straight through the flames and staggering across the other side.

“At last
,” they heard Alicia say. “Something to hit.”

Alicia made short work of the assassin, holding him up by the hair as Drake
, Mai and finally Dahl made their way over. The wall of flames had all but dwindled to nothing, allowing shrouds of darkness to creep back across the land.

“Shall we tie him up?” Alicia said dubiously. “Or just throw him off one of the battlements?”

“Tie him up?” Drake echoed. “You’ve brought rope?”

“Handcuffs.” Alicia smiled wickedly. “Never know when they might be useful.”

“Let’s try that,” Dahl said. “And—”

The snapping report of a gunshot cracked the night apart, echoing around the castle walls. Duster collapsed in a spray of blood, half his head blown away. Drake dived for the floor.

“We’re sitting ducks up here!”

“There were two signals.” Dahl hit the dirt beside him, still holding the detonator. “Why wait this long?”

“It is the coward’s way,” Mai said. “This assassin will have been hoping Duster would do the hard work first, then step in after.”

“That way
,” Alicia said, nodding at the eastern slope. “Shot came from the west.”

Drake slithered off. As he passed Duster a hand slammed do
wn on his own, grasping hard. “V . . . Vin . . . it is the . . .”

Drake
gripped the man’s hand hard. Foe or not, a man about to die passed easier with a little compassion.

“All right, mate. It’s all right.”

Duster’s vision cleared for a brief second. “Vincent,” he said. “The Ghost.”

Drake nodded. Blood pooled in the grass around the man’s head. His passing was marked by nothing
more than the sudden slump of his shoulders; the expected lot of a paid killer. The other three were already over the summit of the hill by the time Drake looked up and started to follow.

“What did he say?” Alicia asked.

“The shooter is Vincent, The Ghost. The notes said he likes to make use of his terrain to stay hidden; that he can wait unmoving for days until the perfect opportunity arises.”

Dahl made a speculative face. “Around that side of the castle are a few crumbling walls, a partly broken-down structure, the culvert, and
the stumps of other walls long since gone to wrack and ruin. Also the ticket office.”

“One wrong move and that bastard will pick us off
,” Alicia said.

“Stay close.”

Mai moved off, hugging the grassy hill as if it were her last hope. She angled downward as she crept along, slinking even further into shadow. Their adversary couldn’t know which direction they’d take, and Mai went the long way around. As Drake followed he saw her plan. Whilst still not a great advantage, she led them toward the deep culvert that led to the rusted old gate. The depth of the culvert would help shield them and get them closer to Vincent’s lair.

Wherever that was.

The team climbed down the slope and entered the culvert, slipping down to the bottom. The grass was a little wet down here, the ground soft. The sides were slick and could become a hindrance. The group kept low, moving out of the shadow of the hill and able to carefully view the western side of the castle’s grounds. Sure enough, Drake saw a discontinuous ruin of inner castle walls, one covered by foliage; enough dips and hillocks to hide a circus; a ramshackle structure; and the modern timber-built ticket office. Not to mention the battlements and even more leafy foliage and shadow coating the far castle wall.

The team watched, observed. All they needed was a glimmer.

“Getting on for oh three thirty hours,” Alicia said into the silence. “We have to end this soon if we’re still set on ruining the Coyote bitch’s grand entrance.”

“If Vincent’s dug in
,” Dahl whispered. “He could stay hidden until I’m doing my victory lap.”

Drake scratched his head. “Who? You?”

“Well, we can’t just crawl on outta here and leave him behind,” Alicia hissed.

Drake eyed her, sudden hope lighting his face. “Now there’s a plan.”

***

They convinced Alicia that since it was her plan, she should be the one to carry it out. The Englishwoman only rolled her eyes and sighed, but left the departing comment that they should
stop trying to be smart and pull it together. Truth be told, Drake did feel that the long, tense night was starting to take its toll. He gave Alicia one of their two guns and made sure he reminded her to pick up Duster’s on her way out of the castle.

T
hey waited.

It didn’t take long. Drake, Mai and Dahl
carefully found comfortable vantage points and set about surveying the entire western side between them. The night’s silence was unbroken, lending an air of isolation to proceedings that frayed their nerves even further. Absolute stillness was essential; Drake was just glad it wasn’t your typical brisk and rainy English night.

A gun was fired, the shot echoing far and wide, but clearly some distance away. Then a shout and another shot
—this one coming from a different gun. The caliber of the bullet told the tale to any experienced ear. Six seconds later and another bullet was fired.

Drake waited. Their ruse had been played. It made sense that if Vincent fell for the deception he would break cover. E
ither way, he’d take only minutes to decide.

Not a blade of grass stirred. A hush like the calm before the storm enveloped the castle. Twenty seconds passed, then thirty. Drake could imagine Alicia becoming impatient, wondering if she should let loose another salvo. He prayed she didn’t. Vincent would surely recognize overkill.

“It didn’t work,” Dahl said.

Drake cursed inwardly.
What next?

Then, eagle
-eyed Mai focused on a particular spot. Drake could see by the set of her shoulders, the sudden tensing, that she’d spotted something. He squinted as best he could in the same direction, but saw only black layered upon deeper black. All of it covered in hanging foliage.

Bit by bit, Mai turned to Dahl. “Run
,” she whispered.

The Swede’s jaw hit the ground. “What? Are you insane? He’d pick me off in three seconds.”

“I only need two,” she said grimly. “Now. Run.”

“Well, sorry, but that’s still cutting it a
little bit fine. How about Drake? He’s fast and dumb.”

“That might have worked,” Drake admitted
, “if I wasn’t standing next to you.”

Mai fixed the man with questioning eyes. “Are you losing it, Dahl?”

The Swede’s jaw picked itself up and set hard. “If you’re sure?”

“Trust me.”

Dahl did. Drake could see it in the man’s eyes. He doubted there was another person on earth Dahl would put so much faith in. If Mai said she could pull the trigger one second before Vincent, then that was good enough.

“Ready?”

Dahl took a deep breath and set himself. Mai readied their last weapon and clenched a fist. When she relaxed it, Dahl exploded into action. Dirt flew from the heels of his boots as he sprinted from full dark to partial dark. Vincent The Ghost was a sharpshooter and would be on him already, tracking for the perfect shot. Dahl’s life would be measured in the next few seconds.

Mai never wavered. Her concentration was absolute. Drake counted the seconds, every nerve in his body strained to the limit.

One . . . two . . .

Nothing happened.

Shit . . . Dahl!

. . .
thr . . .

A shot rang out. Drake’s ears rang,
signaling that it was from Mai’s gun. Despite having his eyes glued to the same spot as Mai he never saw a thing, but the Japanese woman caught a flicker, a darkness that shouldn’t be there, an odd shape that seemed somewhat alien.

I
t moved, just a trace, a fine adjustment of a sensitive sight perhaps, giving Mai the target. She fired. Dahl dropped to the ground.

Something fell from the foliage
clinging to the ruined castle walls. At first appearance it was a leafy monster, an indeterminate shape dropping like a shapeless sack. Mai broke cover, her weapon still aimed. Dahl looked up from where he’d dropped.

Drake
grinned. “Did ya break anything in your heroic dive?”

Dahl ignored him, staring at the bizarre clump. “Is that him?”

Mai moved in closer, gun arm steady, very much aware that this man was an elusive wraith—an international assassin prone to acts of misdirection. In a moment of doubt she pumped two more bullets into the mass, just in case.

Drake nodded. “Good move.”

They approached slowly. Drake whistled his admiration as Vincent’s elaborate disguise became clearer. The man had coated himself, top to bottom, in foliage then fashioned a little perch among the leaves and other greeneries that grew up the castle wall. He even wore a leafy helmet and the barrel of his gun was covered and dulled with vegetation.

“The Ghost
,” Mai said. “I see why.”

“How the hell did you see him?” Drake asked.

“You can disguise and cover up all you want,” Mai said. “But you can’t hide your eyes. Not if you want to see your target.”

“You saw a glint in his eye
from all the way over there?” Drake shook his head.

“You didn’t?”

“Must have been the angle,” Drake muttered. “Still, that’s another one down.”

Alicia came running up to them. “C’mon!”
she cried. “Didn’t you hear the screams?”

Drake let his focus spread out. Terrified screams drifted on the air, setting the night on edge. The citizens of Sunnyvale were in trouble.

Alicia ran ahead. “It’s coming from the supermarket.”

The clock ticked
, moving closer to that 0600 hours pivotal point when Coyote would enter the fray. The enormous impact and potential consequences of that single act faded into the background for now as Drake heard the terrified screams coming up from the town below. The team hurried along the benighted streets, even now forced to leave nothing to chance. Assassins continued to stalk the shadows and the team had to be vigilant every step of the way. Drake knew the position of the supermarket, understanding immediately why Alicia had pinpointed it. Nothing else of any note stood out that way, save for a large parking area. What worried him was that at this time, the supermarket should have long since been deserted.

They
lingered around hedgerows that clung like motorcycle sidecars to the bend that opened up on its way to the supermarket. The cries had died down by now, but Drake could still hear the low pleas of the trapped and deep groans of those in pain.

Almost on
cue a voice rang out, distorted and boosted by the building’s public address system. “Drake and team. I give you five minutes then we try again. Five minutes to show yourselves and surrender to me.” A pause, then, “If not . . .” A scream rang out.

Drake tensed. Mai’s hand fell on his shoulder. “Wait. We have five mi
nutes.”

“But
—”

“We have five minutes.”

Drake’s natural instinct was always to rush to the aid of the innocent, those dragged into hardship and warfare through no fault of their own. But Mai was right. To rush in now was to lose whatever slight advantage they may have. Waiting gave them options.

“We need a plan
,” Dahl said unnecessarily.

“Well, I got plan B covered
,” Alicia smiled mirthlessly. “Storm the place.”

“The accent
,” Mai said. “I think Israeli. This would be Blackbird then, the Mossad operative.”

“Didn’t think M
ossad would stoop this low,” Drake grumped.

“Who knows?” Mai said. “Could be rogue. Either way, they would never admit anything. And their operatives are notoriously hard to break. The only people we
actualy know that want you dead over in that general part of the world are all those terrorists you ambushed at the arms bazaar in the Czech Republic.”

Drake clicked his teeth. “That was some time ago now
, but the death threats are constant and very real. I thought they might forget about me.
Us
! I guess all those terrorists will want some kind of reckoning.”

Mai’s face took on a fatalistic expression. “Enemies may get older, but they never forget.”

“Can we focus on now?” Dahl said. “This Blackbird person is going to start dishing out pain again very soon.”

Alicia pointed to nearby houses where doors stood open and windows were smashed. “Looks like he dragged people
out from their houses.”

“Which limits the hostage count
,” Drake said. “We still need a visual.”

“So what do we do?” Dahl wondered.

“What we always do,” Drake answered. “We go save the day.”

***

The condition of the supermarket gave them more answers. The front door was shattered, hanging off its hinges. The windows around it were also smashed. No alarm wailed, so they had to guess Blackbird had managed to improvise a bypass. Through the wrecked frontage the team observed three people pressed up against the glass windows at the far side of the supermarket, hands and faces touching the panes.

“Front’s clear
,” Drake said. “And even more clearly a trap.”

“No time to wait. No chance to negotiate
,” Mai said. “What to do?”

“Take out the hostages
,” Alicia said quietly.

“
What
?”

“They’re his only leverage. So let’s take ‘em out.”

“
How?
And when you say ‘take out’ . . .”

A
licia spun her two handguns and proceeded to break cover and walk out into the open. “Like this. Bye bye hostages.”

And she opened fire, aiming at the very window where the hostages stood. The whole
pane fractured and smashed before collapsing like a waterfall. Pieces littered the pathway, a sudden sharp tide. The hostages shrieked and fell back inside, away from the danger, quickly diving to the floor.

Alicia was among them in seconds, Drake and Mai backing her up. Mai pulled the hapless
trio outside and handed them off to Dahl.

Drake and Alicia took point, crouching in the sudden stillness and sensing the very air of the place. Racks of shelves stretched away toward the rear of the place, full of produce and materials. The faint
night-time illumination lent a stark aura to the large space, making it feel even more unfriendly.

A trolley rolled slowly down one of the aisles. Drake noticed the package nestled inside a moment before Alicia.

“Down!”

They hit the deck. The package exploded a few seconds later
—not a massive explosion but a charge filled with enough firepower to have taken them out had it struck true. Drake rolled as one of the supermarket shelves toppled, sending hundreds of items tipping and toppling to the floor. A stand of paperbacks and DVDs tumbled too, hitting the main row of cash registers. Several of the tills must have been left on, as Drake heard the ding of barcodes being registered.

He shifted.
Blackbird, clad in pure black, was already racing
along the top of the next row of shelving
, bent almost double. Startled by the sight, and by the shape, he took a moment to process the attack.

B
y then Blackbird was airborne, moving too fast for him to react in time. The masked figure was on him and all he could do was raise an arm to ward off the inevitable attack. Collapsing under the weight of his opponent, he managed to squirm out from underneath. Blackbird was fast, swiveling and striking all in one single movement. Drake again caught the blow.

Alicia struck at Blackbird from behind.

The masked assassin turned. Drake heard the words, “Crazy Englishwoman,” emerge from their opponent’s mouth and thought,
Welcome to Alicia’s world.
Blackbird struck time and time again but Alicia countered every blow. Drake saw steel flash in the Israeli’s hand—he was plucking a blade from a pocket hidden at the base of his spine—and he cried out a warning.

Alicia flipped away. Mai stepped in.

The ex-ninja held her gun steady. The Israeli’s disembodied voice sounded surprised. “I thought you the most honorable opponent, Mai Kitano.”

“Not tonight
,” Mai said. “There is too much at risk.”

Drake
tried a new tack. “Surrender to us now. And we’ll let you live.”

“I think not. A British prison w
ould not suit me, and your treatment can be as rough as any I have encountered.”

Drake held up his hands. “Bollocks to this. What the hell are you gonna do?”

A self-satisfied grunt came through the mask. “I thought you’d be better prepared, SPEAR Team. Didn’t you know?
Blackbird never fights alone.
”

Even a
s the words were spoken, black ropes slithered from the unlit heights of the supermarket ceiling, slapping against the floor seconds before masked figures abseiled down. Drake and Mai and Alicia suddenly found themselves beset by five more able opponents.

All hell broke loose.

A melee of unbelievable proportions erupted across every aisle of the building. Drake leapt at Blackbird. Mai engaged three of the newcomers, and Alicia sprinted at the remaining two with an exultant snarl on her face. Here was battle and bloodshed, hand to hand, fist to fist, the outlet for all her agonies.

Drake pushed Blackbird back down the first aisle. Mai hit her adversaries so hard and with so much guile that all four of them careened into the high shelving itself, toppling it backwards so that the entire length crashed heavily to the floor.
Piles of cans and bottles and cereal boxes spilled and surged in all directions. Assassins landed amidst exploding heaps of cereal and busted open carbonated drinks, sprayed with a mixture of soda, orange and fruits of the forest.

Mai picked her way toward them.

Alicia threw a heavy can at her first opponent, a little stunned when the figure just nutted it aside.

“Wow. I’m impressed.”

She then hefted an unboxed on-sale slow cooker and hurled that in the same direction. “See how you get on with that, motherfucker.”

Drake tussled with Blackbird across the floor. The pair rolled across a heap of broken glass; luckily the Israeli was
beneath him and was the one grunting in pain. Drake pressed his advantage, freeing his hands with a sudden jerk and then striking at his opponent’s weak points. He was momentarily surprised to find those areas reinforced by the special suit.

He shouldn’t have been. This was
Mossad after all.

Blackbird came back with several deadly blows. Drake
repelled them all but found himself driven back against one of the tills. Quickly, he jumped and skimmed across the conveyor belt bouncing his feet off the cash register and rolling aside. By the time Blackbird caught him he was up again, more prepared than previously.

Alicia’s first adversary had succumbed to the slow-cooker attack. Her second came at her fast, but appeared to be put off by having to pick his way through an uneven jumble of groceries. Alicia didn’t let it
faze her one bit. She had fought harder opponents in worse places then this. She trampled through the mishmash, trusting her inner balance and training to make the necessary adjustments. Using the clutter to her advantage, she kicked cereal boxes at her opponent’s masked face, then dove in low, took the guy’s legs away and smashed his nose against the floor. With a limitless supply of weapons at hand, Alicia upended a two liter bottle of Pepsi over the mask whilst holding the head in place.

“Cola-boarded
,” she said speculatively. “Wonder if it’s a world first?”

Mai
was falling back toward Drake, beset by the three assassins. Two of them moved stiffly, clearly carrying injuries, but they were competent enough to carry the fight to Mai.

Another row of shelving toppled, smashing to the floor and emptying its contents in a wide, messy spread.
One of Mai’s assailants was caught underneath, groaning as their leg was trapped. An errant metal strut glanced off Mai’s head, drawing a bead of blood and momentarily distracting her. Instantly, the other two leapt. Mai battled them off, but fell to her knees.

Drake pushed Blackbird as hard as he could, aware of his companions
’ own struggles, but the Israeli was no slouch, matching him blow for blow and strategy for strategy.

They needed an edge.

As if hearing the silent call, a large figure suddenly filled the broken supermarket doorway.

“So what’s all this?” Torsten Dahl said. “Looks like I’m missing out on all the fun.”

The Swede pelted forward like a runaway juggernaut, taking one of Mai’s remaining opponents by surprise. The guy just stood there and let the Swede ram him, as if disbelieving he would actually go through with it. Dahl laughed as he collided with the assassin.

“You don’t play chicken with the Mad Swede
,” he said. “What the hell happened here? Blackbird clone himself or something?”

Drake let loose a flurry of blows. “
Something like that.”

“Hey
.” Alicia moved up behind the Israeli. “You’re out of boyfriends.”

Dahl motioned to Mai that she should join them,
and she faced her last opponent with a grin. When the man charged him, Dahl wrenched a piece of shelving away from its metal housing and smacked him on the side of the head with it; a batter striking a home run.

The last of Blackbird’s assistant assassins dropped like a stone.

Drake gave the man a moment. “You’re a tough bastard, I’ll give you that. But you’re alone now. Time to give it up.”

Around them, the devastated
store creaked and groaned. Precarious piles shifted. Blackbird held out his hands.

“I give up.”

“Why are you here? What’s Mossad doing mixed up in all this?” Mai asked.

Blackbird shrugged. “I
personally just wanted to try my hand against the best team in the world. Mossad? It looks at the bigger picture. The global account. Stupendous and very dark things are starting to happen in the wider world, my friends. Power-hungry men that would rule us—all are taking sides and making plays. It has already begun.”

“What things?” Drake asked.

“This group, the Pythians, and others, believe much is connected. Pandora. The Lionheart. Pyramids. Triangles. It all leads to the greatest, most mind-blowing discovery of our time. Actually, of any time. Even more staggering than your gods.”