Treasure of Khan (21 page)

“A tunnel-boring machine,” he said, rubbing one of the cutter-heads that was worn dull from usage.

“Corsov mentioned the company had some mining interests. I've heard there are some rich copper and coal reserves in the country.”

“A rather expensive piece of equipment for a hack oil company.”

A shrill whistle suddenly sounded from somewhere across the yard. Pitt and Giordino glanced toward the door and immediately saw that the guard had disappeared.

“Somebody woke up and ordered room service without telling us,” Pitt said.

“And I don't have any change for a tip.”

“We've seen all there is to see. Let's go meld into the woodwork.”

They sprinted to the door, which Pitt opened a crack to peer out. Across the yard, a trio of armed guards was headed toward the warehouse in a jeep. Pitt recognized the man in the backseat rubbing his head as the guard Giordino had clobbered.

Pitt didn't hesitate, throwing open the door and bolting out of the building with Giordino on his heels. They turned and ran toward the maze of stacked pipes that paralleled the railroad spur. The pursuing guards shouted across the yard, but Pitt and Giordino quickly disappeared behind the first pallet of pipes.

“I hope they don't have dogs,” Giordino said as they paused to catch their breath.

“I don't hear any barking.” Pitt had instinctively grabbed the sledgehammer on the way out the door and held it up to show Giordino they weren't completely defenseless. He then surveyed the stacks of pipe around them and forged an exit strategy.

“Let's maze our way through the pipes to the rail line. If we can skirt around the loading platform undetected, then we ought to be able to make it back to the gate while they're still sniffing around here.”

“I'm right behind you,” Giordino replied.

They took off again, skirting in and around the mammoth stacks of pipe that stood twenty feet high. A few yards behind, they heard the shouts of the guards as they fanned out in pursuit. Fording through the dozens of huge pallets was like snaking through a dense sequoia forest. The pursuers were at a decided disadvantage.

Making a beeline as best he could, Pitt steered them in the direction of the railroad tracks, stopping again as they approached the last line of pallets. The rail spur ended just a few feet away, while just beyond was the southern boundary of the compound, marked by a twelve-foot brick wall.

“No chance at scaling that,” Pitt whispered. “We'll have to follow the tracks.”

They jumped over the railroad tracks and moved toward the loading ramp at a fast walk so as not to attract attention. Ahead of them, the loading of the flatcars continued unimpeded. The workers had stopped briefly when the security alarm sounded, but resumed their loading when they saw the guards driving to the warehouse building.

Pitt and Giordino approached the dock, walking along the backside of the flatcars with their hard hats pulled low over their eyes. They were nearly past the first of the three railcars when a foreman jumped off the flatcar, landing a few steps from Giordino. The workman lost his balance, stumbling into Giordino and bouncing off the stocky Italian like he'd hit a concrete wall.

“Sorry,” the man muttered in Mongolian, then looked Giordino in the face. “Who are you?”

Giordino could see the glint of alarm register in the man's face and immediately extinguished it with a right cross to the chin. The man slumped to the ground just as a loud shout erupted in front of them. Standing on the next flatcar, two other workers witnessed Giordino punch out their supervisor and yelled out in bewilderment. The workers turned and yelled across the yard, waving their arms at the security jeep, which was just pulling away from the warehouse.

“So much for a stealthy getaway,” Pitt quipped.

“I swear I was just minding my own business,” Giordino muttered.

Pitt peered down the rail line toward the gate they had cut through. If they took off at a sprint they had a chance to reach it before the jeep cut them off, but the guards would be right on their tail.

“We need a diversion,” Pitt said quickly. “Try to attract the attention of the jeep. I'll work on getting us a lift out of here.”

“Attracting attention won't be a problem.”

Together they ducked under the railcar and crawled to the other side. Pitt hesitated in the shadows while Giordino jumped into view and started running back toward the stacks of pipes. A second later, several dockworkers came streaking by after him, dust and gravel rising from their feet inches from Pitt's face. He looked out and saw the security jeep make a sudden turn, its headlights capturing Giordino's image in the distance.

It was Pitt's turn to move now and he jumped from beneath the flatbed and ran toward the next railcar in line. One of the forklifts was setting a pallet of pipe casings on the flatbed when Pitt charged toward the driver's compartment. He still carried the sledgehammer with him and made a flying downward swing as he sprang into the cab. The heavy mallet head struck the foot of the operator before Pitt even landed. The startled driver stared at Pitt with wide eyes before the pain from two broken toes registered in his brain. Pitt raised the hammer as a first cry of agony trickled from the man's lips.

“Sorry, pal, but I need to borrow your rig,” Pitt said.

The stunned operator flew out the opposite side of the open cab as if he had wings, disappearing into the darkness before Pitt could wield another blow. Pitt dropped the hammer and slid into the seat, quickly backing the forklift away from the railcar. He had driven a forklift decades before while working at a car parts distributor in high school and the controls quickly came back to mind. He whipped the forklift around on its lone rear wheel and stomped on the accelerator, aiming the twin prongs in the direction of Giordino.

Pitt's partner had streaked toward the maze of stacked pipes until he saw one of the armed security guards emerge from the nearest piling. The jeep was descending from the center of the yard with the two other guards while a trio of dockworkers was chasing him from behind. Despite the odds, Giordino quickly figured his best chance was against the unarmed workers trailing him. Grinding to a stop in his tracks, he turned and charged directly at the first man in pursuit. The startled worker hesitated in surprise as Giordino suddenly bore into him, driving his shoulder into the man's stomach. It might as well have been a bull charging a rag doll. A gasp of air wheezed from the man's lips, then his face turned blue as he fell limp across Giordino's shoulders. The tough Italian didn't miss a step, bulling forward with the dead weight into the second worker, who was following only a step behind. The three bodies collided with a sickening thud, Giordino using the body over his shoulder to soften the blow from the second man. In a tumble of arms and legs, the three bodies fell to the ground in a heap, Giordino somehow landing on top.

In an instant, he was on his feet, wheeling to face the next pursuer. But the third dockworker, a wiry man with long sideburns, had deftly sidestepped the mass of bodies and whirled behind Giordino. As Giordino rose, sideburns sprang onto his back and cupped an elbow around his throat. A simultaneous fusion of forces converged on him, as the jeep screeched to a halt just inches away while the guard on foot approached yelling with his gun drawn. Realizing he could no longer fight his way out, Giordino relaxed under the grip of the headlock, thinking that this was not quite the end of the diversion that he had in mind.

Staring through the windshield, he noticed the driver of the jeep glare triumphantly as if he had just bagged a trophy caribou. The smug guard, obviously head of the security force, started to climb out of the jeep, then hesitated with a quizzical look on his face. The look turned to horror as he turned toward a bright yellow blur flashing out of the darkness.

Blazing across the yard, Pitt had the forklift floored and aimed for the driver's side of the jeep. A warning cry erupted from the jeep's passenger, who tried to scramble clear, but there was nothing the driver could do. The twin forks sliced into the jeep like it was made of cheese, penetrating just fore and aft of the driver's seat. The nose of the forklift then bashed into the doorsill, mashing the jeep sideways for several feet and sending its occupants airborne out the opposite side. The two guards tumbled to the ground as the jeep skidded to a halt beside them. Pitt quickly jammed the forklift in reverse and backed away from the mangled car.

With the shock of the collision just in front of them, Giordino felt sideburns's grip around his neck loosen a fraction and he reacted immediately. Shoving the man's wrist up, Giordino flung his free elbow into the worker's ribs. It was enough to stun the man and allow Giordino to slip his grasp. Giordino turned and ducked as sideburns threw a roundhouse punch, which he countered with a hard jab below the man's ear. The smaller man quickly dropped to his knees, gazing at Giordino with a dazed look in his eyes.

That still left the security guard on foot. Giordino glanced at the armed man a few feet away and was relieved to see that he was no longer pointing the gun in his direction. The guard had instead turned his attention toward the forklift, which was now racing directly toward him. The guard fired two panicked shots in the general direction of the cab, then leaped out of the path of the charging vehicle. Ducking low in the cab, Pitt heard the shots whistle over his head, then yanked hard on the steering wheel as he passed by the guard. The nimble forklift quickly spun around and in an instant Pitt was back on the heels of the man. The surprised guard stumbled as he now tried to flee the rabid forklift and fell facedown in its oncoming path. Pitt quickly lowered the front prongs and moved in for the kill.

The guard should have rolled to the side but instead tried to stand up and run. As he rose, one of the prongs struck him along the backside and rode up his coat. Pitt jammed the lift lever and elevated the twin prongs above the cab, hauling the guard up into the air with them. Kicking and flailing, the guard dropped his gun as he desperately grabbed at the prong to keep from falling to the ground.

“You know, you could hurt someone with this thing, if you're not careful,” Giordino said, jumping into the cab and grabbing an overhead roll bar for support.

“Safety first, I always say. Or is it second?” Pitt replied.

He had already spun the forklift around and was accelerating alongside the railroad tracks toward the gate. As he was passing by the loading dock, several workers stepped forward, then jumped back as the forklift raced by, the security guard dangling from the elevated prong and shouting out for help.

Pitt spied a high stack of oil drums ahead and veered the forklift toward the pile.

“End of the line for our first-class passengers,” he muttered.

Driving straight for the drums, he slammed on the brakes when just a few yards away. The forklift screeched and skidded, banging to a jolting stop against the lower wall of drums. Dangling from the elevated prong, the sudden stop jerked the security guard forward, sending him flailing like a bird into the upper stack of oil drums. As he backed the forklift away, Pitt heard mumbled curses from the stack that told him the guard was still alive.

Pitt turned the forklift back toward the railroad tracks and mashed the round accelerator to the floorboard. Shouts could be heard from the scene of the wrecked jeep, and Pitt glanced over his shoulder to see that two of the men were on their feet and chasing after them. The popping sound of gunfire echoed from behind, and a few of the rounds found the body of the forklift with a metallic thud. But the humming electric forklift buzzed quietly along, spreading the distance between itself and the angry pursuers.

Nearing the gate, Pitt inched the forklift closer to the railroad tracks until the right wheel was bouncing over the wooden ties.

“Ramming speed,” Giordino said, eyeing Pitt's move and bracing himself for impact.

Pitt steered for the left edge of the gate and gripped the steering wheel tight. The left prong struck the gate support post dead-on, severing through the lower metal hinge, as the right prong sliced through the metal fencing. The nose of the forklift then rammed into the gate with the full force of its momentum. The impact drove the forklift into the air momentarily before it mashed the gate off its hinges and sent it flying off to the side.

Pitt had to fight the controls to keep the forklift from flipping as it burst out of the facility. The battered forklift bounded over the tracks and onto the gravel track that sided the rail line before settling onto its three wheels. Pitt steered down the gravel path, never lifting his foot off the accelerator.

“I hope our taxi driver is early,” Pitt yelled.

“He better be. We're not going to outrun anybody much longer.” Peering back toward the facility, Giordino spotted the headlights of another vehicle skirting the railroad tracks toward the battered gate.

Pitt muscled the forklift's controls as it bounced wildly over unseen ruts and rocks in the starlit darkness. Not wanting to give any pursuing shooters an exact target, he had flicked off the headlights when they broke clear of the facility. The darkened shadow of the burned-out bakery atop the hill finally appeared ahead and Pitt skidded the forklift to a stop.

“Everybody off,” he said, holding the brake down until they came to a complete stop. Jumping down, he searched the ground around him until finding a large flat rock. Turning the steering wheel of the forklift so it aimed down the gravel track, he dropped the rock on the accelerator and jumped back. The yellow forklift sprung down the path, humming quietly as it disappeared into the night.