by Rob Jones
Hawke wrenched the carbine from the man’s hands and whirled around in an arc to bring the stock of the heavy weapon smashing down on the back of his head. His collapse onto the platform ignited a chain reaction and within seconds chaos had spread around the Helipad. The ECHO team darted behind the chopper for cover while the men in black retreated to the relative safety of what looked like some kind of heating installation unit. The man they had called Lazarus was gone, into the shadows like a frightened lizard with one chance to save its life and Kruger, Korać, Luk and Kamchatka slipped down a ladder leading to the substructure.
The men returned with an M2 machine gun, a serious piece of kit requiring a two-man crew, just as they had faced in their assault on the Temple of Huitzilipochtli. It started firing at them and seconds later its crew was backed up by another man holding an M203 grenade launcher. The breech-loaded, single-shot launcher was a lightweight piece of kit attached to an M4 carbine and fired standard low velocity forty mil grenades from the handheld weapon.
Its operator was solemnly loading and firing the grenades on them and one of the rounds landed inside the Mil which the ECHO team were using for cover.
“Run!” Hawke yelled, and they scattered away from the helicopter before the round detonated. It exploded inside the chopper causing an enormous fireball to engulf the area. The fuel tank ignited and then the whole machine was blasted into dozens of pieces and black smoke belched up into the sky above the platform.
Hawke was now using a hangar behind the helipad for cover, and everyone was with him except for Lea and Camacho. He scanned the helipad zone but there was no sign of them. The thought of the explosion getting them and blasting them off the Seastead into the ocean crossed his mind for a bleak second but then he saw them.
In the chaos, Lea and Camacho were trying to get up after a grenade blast on the far side of the helipad. Athanatoi swarmed like ants and soon overwhelmed them. One man grabbed Lea roughly and yanked her down to her knees. In a heartbeat he had the muzzle of a Browning pushed into her throat and was dragging her back into the shadows.
Hawke’s eyes flicked from the terrible image of her getting snatched to the scene a few yards away where Camacho was struggling to his feet after the blast, but the Athanatoi man got to him first, planting a heavy boot in his ribs. The kick was so hard it propelled the heavy American into a half roll, forcing him onto his back and leaving him stranded like a turtle on its back.
Camacho was fast, but the Athanatoi was faster, pulling his gun and bringing it into the aim right in the CIA man’s face. “Up.”
A crestfallen Camacho wiped the grease and soot from his face and moved slowly to his feet, raising his arms above his hands. “Take it easy with that thing, would ya? I got kids.”
The man waved the pistol toward the door and Camacho heaved a sigh of disappointment as he knew he was out of the fight. Then they were both gone, in the same direction as the man who had dragged Lea out of sight.
Hawke’s attention was brought back to his own struggle when the crew on the M2 and their grenade-launching support amped things up another notch, working the weapons with terrific efficiency, and seconds later grenades were exploding all around them. Hawke knew this was one fight they had no chance of winning. They were outmanned, outgunned and playing on the enemy’s home turf. There was only one play, and he had to give the order.
“Jump!”
And with that, the ECHO team leaped from the platform and tumbled through the howling storm toward the icy, black ocean a hundred feet below.
Smashing through the surface from this distance was almost like hitting concrete and the experience was made ten times worse by the freezing temperature of the water which enveloped him as he plunged deep into the sea. Every time he did this he got the memory of basic Commando training in Devon when they seemed to spend a lot of their time in freezing cold water and mud. The SBS selection process was even less merciful when it came to sorting the wheat from the chaff, and he knew many of his team had no such training or experience.
The storm meant almost zero visibility so he gave up any notions of looking for the others and made his way to the surface as fast as possible. He broke through moments later and was greeted by a sharp smack of sea spray on his face. He gasped for air as he struggled to find his buoyancy and after sweeping his hair out of his face he scanned the horizon for the others.
It was a vision of hell – a dark, freezing cold sea heaving up and down in response to the storm swirling around the Seastead – and for a few seconds he was totally alone. He couldn’t see or hear any of his friends. The storm had scattered them like dead leaves across the raging ocean and staring up at the Seastead’s grim, industrial substructure so high above him he wondered how the hell they would ever get back up there.
He refocussed his attention on the surface of the sea. Somewhere out here his friends needed his help, and in conditions like this time was of the essence. Not only was the icy temperature a serious consideration, but the prospect of getting sucked out to sea by the powerful currents was all too real. It would be a lonely, painful and terrifying death.
He saw Maria first, trying to orientate herself in the storm while the waves sucked her up and down like a toy boat. Behind her, Ryan emerged from the water and gasped for air. He turned to see Lexi Zhang clambering up the first few rungs of a scaffolding ladder running up the eastern edge of one of the stabilizer columns, but a second later a wave swept her away as if she weighed nothing and pushed her further under the immense substructure.
As he desperately searched for the others, Hawke now realized they were coming under fire. All around him he saw the tell-tale splash of bullets as they ripped through the surface of the water and drilled into the black ocean.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
“Dive!” he yelled, his voice almost inaudible in the howling storm. “Incoming!”
His training kicked in and he dived, pushing through the water with a powerful breaststroke until he was beneath the substructure and he resurfaced to see that this time Lexi was halfway up the northeast scaffolding with Scarlet and Ryan a few rungs beneath her, but then another wave blasted them all off once again. Reaper was making his way to one of the support columns.
It was chaos, but they worked hard and pulled together. They knew now was the time to take the fight to the Oracle, who he knew in his heart was on the Seastead, high above him now like a god. He gripped the rungs on the southeast column a few hundred yards away from where Scarlet was now helping Ryan out of the water and trying to move up the scaffolding to safety yet again.
Lexi broke the surface a few yards from him and immediately swam over to the scaffolding. Hawke reached out his hand and pulled her up out of the stormy sea and told her to go up the ladder while he searched for Maria. It was getting dangerous but they had come so far in this hunt they could never give up now, no matter how hard it got, and the vision of Lea and Camacho as hostages added more fuel to the fire burning inside him to make things right again.
“And be careful!” he shouted. “It won’t be long before those bastards realize where we’ve gone and come after us.”
She nodded, swept her wet hair out of her face and began to scramble up the slippery scaffold toward the bottom of the Seastead. That was when Hawke saw Maria out in the sea. She had drifted further out in the swell and was now nothing more than target practice for the goons above. They shot at her as if she was a cork bobbing about in a barrel. The rage rose inside him when he heard a roar of laughter from the platform above. This wasn’t just a matter of Seastead security to them – they were enjoying it.
He leaped from the scaffolding and crashed back into the white, foamy sea as it lashed against the column. After the initial dive he came back to the surface for a few moments where he made a judgement about Maria’s location and after calculating wind direction and drift he took the deepest breath of his life and went back under.
It seemed to last forever but he knew he was getting close whe
n he saw the familiar white streaks of the underwater bullet trails. She must be close, he thought, and then he saw her legs kicking a few feet above him. She was back on the surface again, and risking a direct shot to the head or upper body. He knew he had to act fast and reached up to her legs.
A bullet trail slashed through the water in between the two of them but he never flinched. This wasn’t a mission he could give up. Grabbing her left ankle he pulled her hard under the water.
She didn’t know what had happened and lashed out but he was ready, and then a moment later they were face to face in the dark, violent sea, surrounded by bullet trails. He reached his arm around her upper body and began powering the two of them through the water with one arm. Maria was strong but she was light, and that meant he was able to get her back to safety.
Pulling her up the scaffolding was a tough job. His fingers slipped on the wet rungs and the waves were almost irresistible, but when she was above the surface she was able to help herself and soon they were both climbing up out of the sea to join the others.
Hawke gripped hold of the ladder and started to make his way toward the first platform of the Seastead. The storm was high now and whipped up a tremendous sheet of sea spray, soaking him. A second later it was followed by an immense wave that smashed into the rigging beneath the platform and nearly wiped him off the ladder.
He clung on for his life, spitting seawater out of his mouth and trying to get his breath back. Looking down, he saw the storm throwing the large yacht around as if it were a rubber dingy in a wave machine. Down there, below him on the ladder, he saw the desperate faces of his friends as they willed him on up the ladder.
He made another seven rungs before another massive wave smashed into him once again. This one was heavier and faster, and the violence of the blow almost tore him and everyone else off the ladder yet again. This time he held his breath as the freezing water crashed into him, but he knew he couldn’t withstand many of these waves. He craned his neck up and saw he was only a few yards from the top. If he could just get to the top of the scaffolding and through the hole in the substructure, he could rescue Lea and Camacho.
Glancing to his left he saw another colossal wave fast approaching. By the look of it they were all in a lot of trouble. It would give the boat a damn good beating, and if it struck while he was on the scaffolding he would be flung into the ocean like a rag doll.
Careful not to slip on the soaking ladder he made his way through the icy cold sea spray and finally reached the manhole in the base of the substructure. He clambered up inside and found himself in the base of the Seastead and could hardly believe what he was seeing. The section he was standing in was a vast space of support struts surrounding what looked and sounded like some kind of engine room, and from this perspective he could see that the sea directly below the structure was sealed off from the ocean by enormous steel walls creating a separate area for larger ships to dock.
Hawke fixed his eyes on his friends as they joined him. They were tired after fighting the sea. “Me and Scarlet are going topside to get Lea and Camacho.”
“Ooh – a double date!”
He gave her a look but said nothing. “Reaper’s going to lead Lexi, Maria and Ryan and go after Korać and Kruger. We don’t want those two loose cannons on deck. We know they came down here somewhere.”
Hawke and Scarlet jogged along a narrow section of the scaffolding along the western edge of the platform and made their way up a flight of service stars to where they thought the entrance would be located. When they reached the top of the stairs they saw that their sense of direction was right, but there were two men blocking their path.
“I’ll take the one on the right,” Scarlet said.
“But he’s the biggest.”
“Your point?”
“Fine,” he said with a shake of his head.
They approached through the shadows and struck like lightning. Scarlet took the heavier of the two men and Hawke now knew why she wanted to fight him – she wanted to use his weight against him, and it was working as she rolled out a series of martial arts moves against him and essentially turned him into a human punch bag.
Hawke struck the second man but despite his smaller size he was more seasoned than his colleague and knew how to hold himself. He struck back hard and made Hawke sing for his supper, dodging, ducking and weaving to avoid a ferocious salvo of punches.
The man moved fast and used some kind of martial arts Hawke had never seen before. In a flash he had Hawke in a headlock. Hawke struggled but the man had a good grip on his head and was now pushing his face into the steel mesh behind him as hard as possible. Freezing seawater sluiced up over the scaffolding and hundreds of feet below he watched the slate-gray Atlantic heave and swirl in the turmoil of the storm.
“I would kill you fast,” the man said in a heavy Baltic accent, “but I like to make my victims suffer.”
“Are you single? If so I know a woman you might really get on with.”
“What?”
“Shut it, Joe,” Scarlet said. She ploughed the heel of her boot across her opponent’s cheek, delivered by an eye-watering roundhouse kick that was rapidly becoming her signature move. The man howled and staggered back and gave Scarlet the chance she needed. She leaped forward and raised her leg above his head, smashing it down on his skull with a ferocious axe kick. He crumpled over and fell back over the rail, tumbling down into the sea.
Hawke threaded his arm up into the space between the goon’s arm and his own squashed face and used the force he was pressing down with against him. Instantly tumbling over with the sudden loss of the support his arm was providing, Hawke leaped to his feet and kicked him in the face.
The man screamed, but Hawke’s luck was out already. At the other end of the platform several armed men were pouring out of a stairwell and taking cover behind the engine room housing in the center of the substructure.
The goon was now on his feet and ready for revenge, but Hawke blocked his first strike and powered a hard fist into his lower right jaw. The man spun around like a top and then tumbled off the edge of the platform, screaming like a baby all the way down until he hit the surface of the raging sea below.
Scarlet glanced at her watch. “We’re really going to have to do something about that gut of yours. That was over two minutes.”
“I do not have a gut.”
“You tell yourself that.”
The banter was broken by more gunfire, and they dived for cover behind one of the four main support struts. They knew their time was running out. On the far wall Hawke saw the control mechanism for the main entrance to the platform’s topside and knew there was only one play.
“There it is,” he said. “That’s our way to the platform – this must be how people arriving by ship get up top.”
He leaped from the cover of the strut and sprinted as fast as he could toward the control panel. Anticipating a savage volley of defensive fire he wasn’t disappointed when they let rip with their weapons, and he immediately launched himself into a full-speed parkour roll. As he tumbled over on his shoulder against the cold, slippery steel rivets and plates of the platform floor, he heard the bullets from their automatic rifles tracing over his head and pinging off the scaffolding on the east side of the platform.
He came out of the roll running and then dived behind the main strut on the south side. Wasting no time he pulled the lever down and a bright green light on the control panel flickered to life followed by an ear-piercing klaxon as the Seastead’s entrance began to slide slowly open. He noticed that beneath them a bidirectional tidal gate was also opening allowing the sea into the area below the structure.
Still under heavy fire, he returned the same way he had come with a second parkour roll, only this time they were ready and their aim was better. He felt one bullet rip into the sole of his boot halfway through the roll. But then he was back where he started beside Scarlet.
“And that was forty seconds,” Scarlet said with a
sigh. “I could have done it in half that time. You really do want me to start calling you Joe Pork, don’t you?”
“Try it,” he said. “If you think Cairo’s the worst I can come up with, think again.”
“Point taken.”
The entrance was now almost fully open and the men began to retreat up the ramp leading to the topside. They were fleeing the incoming danger now racing toward them thanks to Hawke opening the gates. Below, the storm outside powered the yacht into the heart of the Seastead’s docking area on the beat of the raging ocean below its hull. Boats didn’t have brakes, and Hawke knew it was coming in too fast. He winced as the savage pulse of the raging storm powered the boat’s bow into the steel wall at the end of the docking bay.
He guessed the yacht belonged to whoever owned this place, and after Ryan’s tattoo observation on the chopper there was only one intelligent guess as to who that was – the Oracle. The fact he had just trashed his yacht brought a quick smile to his face, but the mission had only just started.
“Come on,” he said. “We have work to do.”
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Deep in the substructure on the far side of the platform, Reaper, Lexi, Maria and Ryan were in hot pursuit of Dirk Kruger, Korać, Luk and Kamchatka. The former legionnaire’s eyes were peeled as they moved stealthily through the forest of support struts and pipes. Somewhere down here in this industrial jungle were four of the most dangerous men he had ever met, and now they were cornered animals, trapped on a maniac’s secret ocean base with no chance of escape except a violent and bloody shootout.