PRIMAL Fury (The PRIMAL Series) (14 page)

CHAPTER 27

CASTLE LORAN

Bishop crouched precariously on the battlements, the increased guard activity having caught him halfway between the keep and the gatehouse. Armed guards were approaching as they patrolled the wall, using powerful flashlights. Bishop had no choice but to hang over the side again.

He held on by his fingers on the inside of the castle wall. The flashlights progressed above him and he could hear the guards’ gruff voices. Below, another team was hunting, the barking of their dog sending shivers up his spine. Something had gone wrong, he knew. Somehow they were onto him.

Forearms burning, he waited for the searchers above him to pass. When they were nearly at the keep, he climbed back up onto the walkway. He sprinted to the gatehouse and crouched next to the heavy metal door. It was locked.

He looked up to see if there was another way in and spotted a camera pointing directly at him.

He squinted as he was illuminated by a powerful floodlight. Shielding his eyes from the beam, he glanced over the edge of the battlements and down into the courtyard. The guards with the dog were over by the entrance to the keep. He spotted an electrical cable on the wall of the gatehouse, fastened to the stone with steel clamps and running up to a CCTV camera. It looked like it could hold his weight; the only problem was how far it was from the wall.

“HALT!” one of the guards screamed.

Bishop leaped off and hit the stone wall of the gatehouse hard, his fingers scrabbling for the cable. As he fell he managed to hook his fingers under it. He had miscalculated, though—the cable was not strong enough.

The first bracket popped out of the stone, the one above it went, then the one above that. There was a horrendous wrenching noise and the CCTV camera ripped cleanly from the wall. Bishop hung on with both hands as he dropped. Another bracket a few inches below his hands caught him. It held for half a second and then gave, the one after it went as well, and Bishop slid down the wall, jerking as he reached each of the brackets. Within seconds they had all popped from the wall and he landed with a thump on top of the minibus parked in the courtyard. The steel roof buckled, slightly absorbing the force of his fall.

He rolled off the vehicle, checking his limbs for damage, then noticed the security camera sitting on a tangle of cable. The red light was still flashing. He gave it a smile and touched his head in a salute.

The bark of a dog brought him back to reality. The animal had been released and was tearing across the courtyard. Behind it, even more guards were pouring out of the keep, all heavily armed.

Bishop ducked into a stone arch and up a well-worn set of stairs. They spiraled upward inside the battlements and he sprinted as fast as he could, trying to keep ahead of the dog. Three flights up he burst out onto a landing, lungs heaving. In the middle of the corridor was a cleaning cart. Leaning against it, a cigarette hanging out of his mouth and a cell phone in his hand, was one of the hotel staff.

“Sorry!” Bishop grabbed the phone and the cigarette. He stuffed the phone in his pocket and grabbed an aerosol can from the cart.

The cleaner stood with his mouth open as he watched the t
racksuit-clad guest aim the canister of air freshener back down the stairs.

Bishop could hear the clatter of the dog’s claws on the stairs, the canine rapidly approaching.

He sucked hard on the cigarette to fuel the ember and squirted the aerosol. It belched a jet of flame into the corridor, blackening the sandstone stairs.

The smell of burnt fur filled the air, followed by a yelp and a series of high-pitched wails as the attack dog retreated down the stairs. Bishop dropped the flaming canister into the cleaning cart and pushed it into the stairs. It crashed downward, catching fire as it tumbled.

“Gives you cancer, saves my life,” quipped Bishop, returning the cigarette to the startled cleaner. He ran down the corridor and up another flight of stairs, leaving the burning cart blocking the route behind him.

As he climbed he punched a number into the phone. It beeped: no reception. “Fuck!”

He went up another two flights of stairs. The next landing was as high as the castle walls, and he realized it was at the base of the gatehouse. There were doorways on each end to the battlements and a central stairway that led upward.

He checked his phone again; it had a single bar of reception. He hit redial and it connected to PRIMAL’s emergency line.

“Hello, Rachel speaking.”

“Rachel, it’s Nigel, I was wondering if the old man’s there.”

“One moment.” There was a slight pause.

“Nigel, good to hear from you, what’s up?” Vance struggled to hide the tension in his voice.

“Just a small problem. I was wondering if you had anyone who could help.”

“I’ve got some friends in the area; I’ll put you through.” There was another short pause.

While Bishop waited there a thump came on the door that led out to the battlements. The wood around the lock creaked, then came a loud thud, and it started to splinter. The guards on the other side were not waiting for someone with a key. He was running out of options and knew it was only a matter of time before he was cornered.

“Hello, Nigel, can I help?” Bishop could identify Aleks’s voice anywhere. The Russian accent was like music to his ears.

“I’m at the base of the gatehouse. Someone’s trying to get in from the battlements. I need help now.”

“Acknowledged, special delivery on its way.”

Another heavy blow to the door and the wood around the lock failed, splintering as it was forced inward. A split second later Bishop heard two wet-sounding slaps, followed by the distinctive cracks of supersonic bullets.

Thick red blood ran in from under the door. He jimmied his hands into the fractured wood and tore it open.

The two guards were crumpled on the walkway. Bishop ducked out and retrieved an AK-74 from one of the bodies.

“Thanks,” he said into the phone. “I need you to keep the walls clear. If you haven’t already, we need to invite the rest of our friends to join the party.”

“No problem, backup is only a few minutes away. Are you with Saneh?”

“What? No, she was in our room. Why?”

“She triggered an alert. The transponder is still active in the keep.”

“Fuck. I’ve got to hole up here. Pass my location to our friends. Once they get to me we’ll go get Saneh.”

“Will do.”

Bishop heard noises below and dashed up the central staircase. Smoke from the flaming trolley hung in the air. He checked the phone; no coverage again.

He crouched to one side of the stairs and waited, AK held at the ready.

Moments later the barrel of an assault rifle heralded the arrival of the guards. Bishop stitched the first guard with a burst, sending him tumbling down the stairwell.

The return fire was heavy, bullets ricocheting up the staircase. Bishop was forced to move backward as the weight of fire increased. He returned fire to little effect; the amount of ammunition the guards were pouring up the stairs was overwhelming.

The hallway was rapidly becoming a death trap and he retreated from the staircase until he reached a locked door. He could hear voices on the other side, female voices. It made sense; this was where they were keeping the girls.

“GET AWAY FROM THE DOOR!” he yelled.

He fired two shots into the lock and kicked it open. The faces of eleven scared teenage girls greeted him.

“Does anyone speak English?” Half a dozen hands shot up.

“I’m here to help you, but first we need to stop the guards from getting in.”

A tall, blue-eyed blonde ran forward and started pushing one of the beds toward the door. Other girls came forward to help her.

Bishop fired a burst from the AK down the corridor toward the stairs and then slammed the door shut. The girls helped him push beds up against it. They toppled a wardrobe on top of them. Most of the furniture in the room was quickly piled up in front of the entrance. It would be enough to buy a few precious minutes. He checked around the room; the only other door led to the bathroom.

“What’s your name?” he asked the pretty blonde.

“Karla.”

“Listen to me carefully, Karla. I need you to take all of the girls into the bathroom. You need to lock the door and hide behind anything solid.”

“OK.” She shepherded the girls out of the dorm.

Bishop turned over a heavy wardrobe and took cover behind it. Outside, guards banged at the door. Rounds ripped through the wood as they fired, tearing into the makeshift barricade.

He checked his watch: The CAT would not be far away. He just needed to hold off the guards for a few minutes more. He thumbed the magazine off his AK and checked it. It still had rounds but felt light, almost empty. He flinched as more bullets splintered through the door and wondered how long it would take until one of them found its mark.

CHAPTER 28

“The Englishman needs to be taken alive.” András was focused on the television feed from the makeshift dormitory. It showed Bishop crouched behind an overturned wardrobe holding an AK.

“He’s not going to give up,” said Masateru. “See how he keeps looking at that mobile and his watch? He’s been in contact with someone; you need to be ready for reinforcements.”

András picked up the phone on his desk and dialed an internal number. “Bring more men up from the outer guardhouse. When they’re inside, seal the castle.” He turned to Masateru. “Once the gates are closed there’s no getting in.”

“Or getting out. Good, and what about the local police?”

“Of course! If the local cops are here, anyone else is going to think twice about attacking.” András punched another number into his phone. “My cousin is married to the local police chief’s sister. He will send everything he has, but this early in the morning it will take time.”

Masateru left András to make the call and turned his attention back to Saneh and Kalista.

“I’m going to make this very simple.” He took the tanto blade from his pocket and snapped it open. “You!” He pointed the knife at Saneh. “Tell me who you work for, or…” He grabbed Kalista by the hair, hauling her up off the chair. “This pretty little thing loses her face.” He ran the blunt side of the knife down her cheek, leaving an angry red mark on her skin.

“What are you doing?” Saneh’s arms were zip-tied behind her back. “She has nothing to do with this. Look at her, she’s a scared little girl!”

“She is, isn’t she, and so pretty.” Masateru’s eyes were emotionless as he turned to Saneh. “It would be a shame to damage such beauty. You wouldn’t want to be responsible for that, would you?”

Kalista jerked her head away from the blade. “She’s Interpol, they’re all Interpol!”

“The bitch is lying.” András had finished his call to the police. “If they were Interpol I’d know all about it.”

Masateru yanked back Kalista’s head, pulling her hair savagely. The razor-sharp blade of his knife cut effortlessly into the flesh of her cheek. He sliced downward, parting her peachlike flesh with a deft flick of his wrist.

The blade was so sharp that it took a few seconds for Kalista’s body to register the trauma. Then she screamed in agony as a crimson line appeared on her face. Blood poured from the laceration, running down her neck and into her sweater.

“Now, who exactly are you?” he asked Saneh.

“You already know! I’m Nigel Martin’s assistant. I work for the Dostiger arms syndicate. Now leave her alone, please!” Saneh’s voice was hysterical.

“If I need to cut out her tongue to loosen yours, then I will.”

“You’re going to die badly for this,” Saneh said softly.

“Really?” Masateru glanced up at the screens behind the desk. “And who’s going to do that? Your boyfriend? He seems a little preoccupied.”

Up on the screen, Bishop was still hunkered behind the wardrobe as bullets ricocheted off the walls around him. The door had been forced slightly ajar by the guards’ attempt to breach. They were close to smashing through the makeshift barrier.

“So your choices are limited,” said Masateru. “Either you tell me what you know or the next time my blade touches her skin it will be her throat.” He let go of Kalista’s hair and she slumped back into her chair. Her hands were clasped to her face in an attempt to stem the flow of blood. He turned and pointed the blade at Saneh. “And then, if need be, I’m more than happy to go to work on your flawless features.”

“Fine.” Saneh let out a deep sigh. “I’ll tell you everything I know.”

What Masateru and András did not know was that Saneh now controlled the situation. She knew she needed only to generate a few minutes of time. Enough for a faint thud of a helicopter’s rotors to grow into a powerful roar.