The tall man gasped as the freezing chill of the ocean struck his body, but he did not move. He looked forward, determined to stare death in the face as it came for him.
And death did come. The massive freighter disappeared underwater. Only the scattered flotsam and a few floating corpses marked the fact that it was ever there. Soon, the ocean’s churning waves would disperse even these last bits of evidence.
High up in the clouds, oblivious to the death and destruction below, the drone continued its relentless flight towards Japan.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Caine awoke to utter blackness. His head throbbed and ached. He gasped for breath.
The darkness surrounded him. He realized he was wearing a hood. He couldn’t see a thing under the sack covering his head. The smell of sweat and canvas triggered a surge of panic through his body. The hood reminded him of his days of imprisonment with the White Leopard clan.
For a few seconds, he was certain that he was back there, in the desert. Everything and everyone else was just a dream. The mission, Rebecca, Hitomi, Mariko ... they were hallucinations. Phantoms. The pain and the screaming were his only reality.
No, he thought. That’s in the past. Get a grip!
The seconds ticked by, each one an eternity of panic and terror. But Caine grit his teeth and remained still, his body betraying nothing. Soon the fear receded from his nerve endings. He was back in control.
A gentle rocking motion and the muted sound of tires on pavement confirmed he was in a vehicle. He remembered the security team and Kusaka’s smug, smiling face. He had almost killed the man in a stranglehold before the mercenaries had intervened.
They had beat him senseless, but they hadn’t sedated him. Sloppy. A breach of standard rendition procedure.
Bernatto must have contracted these men in haste. He had made some kind of deal with Japanese intelligence. Gave them something they wanted in exchange for the sanctioned rendition of a burned agent. Once they got him out of the country, Caine knew exactly what would happen. He had run enough of these operations himself to know his future was bleak.
They would either shoot him or dump him in a black site prison, a place from which he would never resurface. Either way, he knew he had to act before they arrived at their destination. Every second he delayed was a second closer to his death.
Caine listened. He heard men rustling, breathing, grunting. They did not speak, but he was able to piece together a mental picture of their positions in the vehicle.
The driver sat in front of him, to the left. He could hear the man sigh and curse under his breath as they hit traffic. That meant they were most likely still in Tokyo.
To his right sat another man. He heard a soft metallic clacking coming from that direction. It was a quiet, rhythmic sound that matched the bouncing of the vehicle over the pavement. The sound was subtle, barely noticeable, but it was a sound Caine knew well.
It was an automatic rifle, clattering against its sling as the vehicle vibrated.
Caine pegged the man next to him as the one who had beaten him unconscious. It was impossible to be sure, but he had a gut feeling. Either way, he knew the man was armed.
Assuming another man sat in the front passenger seat, he was dealing with three captors. The other men would be in a second vehicle, most likely a blocker car traveling ahead of them. Their job would be to keep an eye out for any possible resistance.
Caine let the motion of the vehicle rock him backwards. Without appearing to move, he rolled onto his back and let his head loll against the side of the vehicle. Judging by the amount of space in the back seat, he assumed they were in an SUV.
He didn’t much like his chances of taking out three armed men while blindfolded and restrained. But he didn’t have much of a choice. If he was going to die, he would die fighting, not drugged up in some concrete bunker, lost in whatever country the CIA was farming its torture out to these days.
Caine tensed his muscles and prepared to make his move. The vehicle gained speed as traffic eased up. Then the brakes squealed to life, and momentum rolled him forward. He knew the man next to him would be off-balance as well.
Caine jerked his legs backwards. In one fluid motion, he slipped his feet through his tied arms. Before the man next to him could react, he lashed both legs out in a powerful kick. The blow cracked the man’s skull against the side window.
“Holy shit! This fucker’s awake!” a voice shouted from the front seat.
The man to his right grunted, then the jingle of the rifle strap rang out. Caine knew it was only a matter of time before the man clubbed him again or took a shot. Caine honed in on the metallic sound and kicked until he made contact with the rigid firearm. He drove it backwards and heard the man grunt again as the rifle smashed into his face.
How do you like it, asshole? Caine thought.
He rolled forward as the vehicle swerved back and forth. The driver reached back and struck him with a security baton. The coiled steel snapped across his back. A burning pain eclipsed all other sensations. The baton had struck his spine, square between the shoulder blades.
Caine collapsed to the floor of the vehicle. He twisted his body forward, shielding his vitals. The man to his right began stamping down on his back.
“You son of a bitch!” he roared, as his heavy combat boots battered Caine’s flesh.
As the rain of kicks and blows continued, Caine’s vision began to blur. An arm wrapped around his neck and dragged his head up in a chokehold. A harsh whisper breathed in his ear.
“You know,” the voice hissed, “we’re supposed to get you out of the country before we do you. But hey, sometimes accidents happen.”
Caine coughed as the man’s forearm dug into his windpipe. His attacker’s other arm pressed down on the back of his head, driving his neck forward. Caine became lightheaded as the hold reduced the blood flow to his brain.
He tried to pummel the man with his bound hands, swinging them up and over his shoulder. But his awkward position beneath the seat made it impossible to land a hit. With each passing second, his strength ebbed away as his brain began to suffocate.
The naked choke, a variation on a jiu-jitsu maneuver, was a dangerous hold. If applied past the point of unconsciousness, it could easily cause brain damage or even death. And Caine had the distinct feeling his assailant had no intention of letting him go.
Caine forced his weakened legs to lift his body up, sliding his head up his attacker’s chest. When he felt the man’s breath on his neck, he tipped his head forward. A split second later, he slammed it backwards. The back of his skull crushed into the man’s face.
The mercenary howled in pain and loosened his grip. Caine let his body go limp. He dropped like a stone, slipping out of the stranglehold.
As he fell back to the floor, the edge of the hood caught on the man’s forearm and pulled halfway up. A burst of daylight flashed into Caine’s face. He squinted, struggling to focus on his surroundings. The blood rushed back to his head, and he felt even dizzier than he had when suffocating.
The vehicle continued swerving left and right. The driver swung his baton again, just missing Caine’s face. The blow struck his shoulder with a loud crack. Caine winced, and it took all his willpower not to vomit on the floor. The pain, dizziness, and careening vehicle all conspired against his diminished senses.
He shook his head, and his vision began to clear. He caught a glimpse of the man next to him, hands covering his face as blood gushed from a broken nose. Then the front passenger twisted around and pointed a pistol at him.
He heard the click of the hammer and found himself staring down the barrel of Colt .45. He closed his eyes. Once the man fired, he wouldn’t have even a second to feel the pain before his head exploded into a bloody pulp.
The explosion was deafening as the gun fired.
Mariko stepped on the gas and the grey sedan leapt forward. She wove in and out of the stop-and-go traffic, ignoring the angry beeps and shaking fists as she disr
upted Tokyo’s morning commute.
Up ahead, she saw the twin black SUVs. They were stopped in a line of cars waiting to turn onto the Shuto Expressway. Based on their route, she guessed they were traveling to Haneda Airport. A private aircraft would no doubt be waiting there, ready to whisk them out of the country.
She jogged her steering wheel left. The sedan’s underbody screeched as it jumped the curb. She flew past the stopped cars, made it through the light, and darted into traffic just behind the rear SUV.
She knew the move would draw their attention, but she no longer cared. She had to stop them before they made it to the airport. The longer they spent on the expressway, the more dangerous the chase would get.
The SUVs sped up once they reached the clearer lanes of the expressway. Then the rear vehicle began to swerve back and forth. The swaying vehicle clipped the rear end of a delivery van as it chugged past them.
The SUV’s rear windows were tinted dark black, and Mariko could not see inside. But she knew what had to be causing the erratic motion: Caine was fighting to escape.
Her sedan surged forward and pulled up to the passenger side of the rear SUV. She saw the front passenger pointing a gun towards the rear seat. She could not see Caine in the back, but another passenger was struggling. She saw his back pressed against the rear side window.
Mariko slammed her car into the side of the SUV. Metal screeched against metal at seventy miles per hour. The larger vehicle drifted to the left.
She could hear the crack of a gunshot over the deafening collision. She hoped the impact of her ram had thrown off the gunman’s aim.
The front passenger leaned out his window and took aim at Mariko. She jerked her wheel to the left again. He had time to squeeze off only two shots before the cars collided.
Mariko kept up the pressure, pushing against the SUV. The screeching metal of the locked vehicles sounded like the frenzied shriek of a rabid animal. She knew that, as soon as she let up, the man with the pistol would be gunning for her again.
Up ahead, the lead SUV slid out of position and moved in front of her. Men with automatic rifles leaned out the rear windows. The explosive blast of automatic weapon fire filled the air.
She ducked as the windshield exploded. Tiny fragments of safety glass caught in her hair. Bullets whined and screeched as they tore into the metal frame of the car.
She slammed on the brakes and dropped back behind the rear SUV. The big black vehicle was still weaving across the road, but at least it provided some cover from the riflemen. Then, a few second later, the vehicle straightened out and stopped swerving. It fell back in line with the lead SUV.
Now what? she thought. She knew she had to keep them off-balance, keep them reacting. Otherwise, it was only a matter of time before they killed both her and Caine.
She stepped on the accelerator and braced herself. Her sedan slammed into the vehicle’s rear bumper. The SUV lurched forward and struck the vehicle in front.
The impact threw the riflemen off-balance. The armed men were unable to recover as the vehicle exploded forward.
“Yatta!” she exclaimed. She had made an opening.
She charged forward past the rear SUV. As the forward vehicle straightened out, the gunman on her side raised his rifle. But before he could fire, her rear windshield collapsed into a sparking curtain of broken glass. The driver of the SUV behind her was shooting at her as well!
She ducked just as the lead gunman opened fire. More bullets tore through the car. It was only a matter of time before one of them found its target. Keeping her head low, she spun the steering wheel and hit the gas.
The front corner of her sedan slammed into the rear wheel of the SUV. The driver slammed on the brakes, but she forced her foot down even harder on the shaking accelerator pedal. The gunfire stopped, and she popped back up in her seat.
The SUV fishtailed in front of her and skidded sideways. The driver was frantically spinning the wheel, trying to regain control. But the corner of her sedan was still pushing the rear of the SUV forward, forcing it into the skid.
To her left, Mariko saw they were entering a cloverleaf exchange, a wide, sloping traffic circle that would carry them up and over the lower expressway. She pulled her pistol from her leather jacket and took aim at the driver’s front wheel.
She fired. The tire exploded in a cloud of smoke and shredded rubber.
The SUV continued to skid straight forward, moving against the curve of the road. Mariko revved the accelerator again, pushing the vehicle forward even faster. Then she jerked the wheel to her right and darted away.
There was a split second of silence as the lead SUV tipped and flew into the air. Then gravity took over, and the huge metal body crashed back down onto the pavement. The frame twisted into a lump of crumpled metal as it tumbled over and over, rolling towards the edge of the overpass.
With a screeching roar, the SUV slammed up against the metal guardrail. The thin rail snapped under the weight of the heavy vehicle. It crashed through and teetered over the overpass.
As it fell down to the expressway below, the twisted metal ribbons of the severed rail caught in the rear axle. The vehicle lurched to a stop. It swung back and forth, hanging over the road below like a grisly pendulum of twisted metal.
Mariko’s relief was short-lived. A quick glance in her mirror showed the rear SUV gaining on her. The front passenger was leaning out his window. He was now armed with an automatic rifle.
She screamed as a hail of bullets slammed into the rear of her car.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Back in the SUV, Caine had managed to pull himself onto the rear seat and pin the mercenary against the window. He had felt the impact as Mariko rammed the vehicle over and over. Her sudden attack had allowed him to use the other men’s distraction to his benefit.
He twisted his head and saw the front passenger fire his assault rifle at Mariko’s grey sedan. Caine grit his teeth and threw himself back to the floor of the vehicle. He tensed his body as the merc in the back seat recovered and began kicking at his bruised shins.
Ignoring the pain, Caine reached forward between the seat and door frame. His fingers wrapped around the seat release lever. He yanked it backwards.
The front passenger seat tilted back, driving the gunman’s aim up and away from Mariko. The headrest slammed into the face of the merc in the rear seat, and Caine grinned with satisfaction as the man cried out in pain.
He swung his legs up and struck the jaw of the man in the front seat, knocking his head against the door frame. As he lifted himself to a sitting position, Caine saw Mariko’s vehicle.
The sedan was riddled with bullet holes. He could see Mariko inside, as she drifted left and accelerated. She was trying to get out of the line of fire.
Caine paused for a split second. The man next to him lifted his battered face from the headrest and aimed his weapon at Caine’s head. The front passenger recovered and began to raise his rifle out the window. The driver turned the wheel, bringing the vehicle behind Mariko. He was lining up the perfect shot.
In that split second, Caine noticed one thing.
None of them were wearing seat belts.
Without hesitation, Caine grabbed the belt over his left shoulder. Looping it over his arms and chest, he threw his body forward. His fingers curled around the vehicle’s emergency brake. He yanked it upwards with every ounce of strength he had left.
The rear wheels locked. The tires shuddered and screamed as they bounced across the pavement. Everyone in the car, Caine included, was thrown forward. A white-hot dagger of pain lanced through his battered body, as the seat belt jerked him backwards.
The driver’s face smashed into the windshield. He fell back in a daze, his hands slumping off the wheel. The passenger dropped his rifle and reached over to grab it, but he was too late. They were traveling too fast. The wheel spun in his hands, and the entire vehicle lurched sideways.
Caine let his body swing from the seat belt. He kicked the r
ear mercenary in the head again. The man smashed into the side of the car. He reached out for Caine, but he was fighting against gravity. The entire vehicle was tipping over in his direction.
Caine wrenched himself onto the seat and clicked the shoulder belt across his body. The pavement rushed up to meet them. The side windows exploded inwards, as the vehicle flipped and rolled.
Warm blood dripped down Caine’s face. He wasn’t sure if it was his.
The percussive beat of rain echoed through the cabin. Water droplets spattered off the shattered windows and mangled metal body of the SUV.
He was laying on his side. He struggled to sit up and found himself staring sideways out the shattered front windshield.
The rear mercenary was suspended in the air, pinned in place by the front passenger seat. His lifeless face was a collage of gashes and wounds. Droplets of warm blood dripped sideways from a cut in his forehead and struck Caine just below his eye.
No, Caine thought, I’m disoriented. The blood wasn’t dripping sideways. The entire vehicle was sideways. It had stopped rolling and come to a rest on the pavement with the driver’s side facing down.
He patted down his body. Waves of pain shot through his limbs as he applied pressure to several bruises and small gashes, but nothing appeared broken.
With a grunt, he unlatched the seat belt. The aches and pains intensified as he moved, but he ignored them and began patting down the contractor next to him. He removed the man’s pistol, an American made Kimber 1911, chambered in .45 ACP.
Using the butt of the pistol, he smashed through the spiderweb of cracked glass in the passenger side window. He held his head up, allowing the cool rain to soothe his battered face and wash away some of the blood. Then, bracing himself for another wave of searing pain, he crawled up and out the shattered window.
He dropped to the pavement and surveyed the wreckage. The SUV had flipped into the path of traffic, and a small pileup of cars surrounded him. Luckily, no one else seemed hurt.
Thomas Caine series Boxset Page 24