“That way. The mausoleum is up there.”
Drake saw an incredibly wide, incredibly long concrete walkway leading straight ahead toward a long, steep set of concrete steps. Just before the steps began, the path widened out into a vast circle, at the center of which stood an unmistakable statue.
“Well, the dude was definitely a horseman,” Kinimaka pointed out.
Genghis Kahn, atop a cantering horse, stood atop a hefty slab of stone.
“The second Horseman,” Yorgi said. “Conquest.”
Altan must have heard the last bit, for she turned and said, “Yes. The Khagan conquered much of the known world before his death. Arguably a genocidal king, he also politically unified the Silk Road during his lifetime, increasing trade and communication through the entire western hemisphere. He was a bloody, terrible leader, but he treated his loyal soldiers well and included them in all of his plans.”
“Can you tell us a little of what’s in the mausoleum?” Drake wanted to be prepared. Speed counted for everything with these missions.
“Well, it is nothing but a rectangular cemetery, adorned with external finery.” Altan now sounded as if she were quoting a tourist guide. “The main palace is octagonal and contains a five-meter-high, white jade statue of Genghis. There are four chambers and two halls, which appear like three yurts externally. In the Resting Palace there are seven coffins. The Kahn, three consorts, his fourth son and that son’s wife.”
“The Resting Palace,” Smyth said. “Also sounds like the resting place.”
“Yessss.” Altan drew it out, staring at Smyth with patience and knowing nothing about the text they were following.
“The mausoleum is guarded by the Darkhad, the privileged ones. It is extremely sacred to many Mongols.”
Drake let out a deep, worried breath. If they were mistaken and this wasn’t the resting place of the second weapon ... He dreaded even to imagine the consequences.
Life in a Chinese prison would be the least of their problems.
The long walk continued, first the pilgrimage along the extensive path and then a dissection of the sphere, a cursory glance up at the face of the ancient general, and then the endless ascent of the stone steps. The team stayed in position, rarely losing a step, and kept a constant vigilance. Drake was pleased to see relatively few visitors to the mausoleum today, which aided them greatly.
At last the impressive structure came into sight. The team paused as they reached the top of the steps to take it all in. Altan waited, probably used to tourists caught in moments of awe. Drake saw a vast edifice with relatively small domes at each end and a much larger one in the middle. Their roofs were bronze, patterned. The front of the building held many red windows and at least three large entrances. A low stone wall fronted the structure.
Altan walked ahead. Dahl glanced back at the team.
“Straight to the coffin,” Hayden said. “Get it open, find the box and get out. Luckily, there’s no body to contend with. As our pilot says—no bullshit.”
Drake listened as Lauren chimed in with an update on the chatter.
“I’m getting a big, fat zero here now, folks. Pretty sure the Israelis and the Russians are out of it, pointed the wrong way by the text. DC thinks the French are closing in, maybe a half hour behind you. It’s getting much tougher now, the listening. We’re down to other resources and just a few tricks the NSA won’t ever reveal. Swedes, Chinese and Brits are unknown. Like I said, it’s a struggle.”
“Anyone else?” Drake nudged.
“Funny you should mention that. I’m getting ghost static from an unknown source. No voices, no way to confirm, but it also feels as if, sometimes, there’s another presence on the system.”
“Do not mention ghosts,” Alicia said. “We had enough horror shenanigans on the last op.”
Altan stopped and turned. “Are you ready? I’ll take you inside.”
The group nodded and moved forward. And that’s when Drake saw the Chinese soldiers exiting the mausoleum, a large box tucked under one man’s arm, archaeologists threaded among them.
The Chinese carried their guns, and now the lack of tourists was firmly in their favor.
It was only a moment before their leader set eyes upon them.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Drake saw Dahl take hold of Altan and drag her backward, taking a long leap down the steps until they were sheltered from the Chinese soldiers. He flung his backpack to the ground and quickly unzipped the outer pocket. Working fast and not once glancing up at the Chinese, nevertheless he felt safe. Hayden, Smyth and Mai carried handguns.
Weapons were raised in the square outside the mausoleum of Genghis Kahn, rivals facing off. The man carrying the box looked nervous. The Chinese team were five strong, and were already ordering the brooding set of archaeologists aside. Drake hefted his small machine pistol and waited. To his side, the rest of the team spread out.
“All we want is the box,” Hayden called out. “Lay it on the ground and walk away.”
The leader of the Chinese team had eyes of gray slate. “It is you who should walk way whilst you still have chance.”
“We want the box,” Hayden reiterated. “And we will take it.”
“Then try.” The leader translated and all five Chinese started walking forward in unison.
“Whoa. We’re on the same friggin’ side.”
“Ah, a joke. Funny. America and China will never be on the same side.”
“Maybe not,” Drake spoke up. “But we—soldiers fighting for the people—are.”
He saw the hesitation in the leader’s stride, the slight uncertainty cross his features. It must have affected them all, for the Chinese team came to a full stop. Hayden lowered her own weapon and closed the gap still further.
“Can’t we find some common ground?”
A nod. “Yes, we could. But government and political leaders, terrorists and tyrants will always get in the way.”
Drake saw the sadness in the man’s face, and the absolute belief in his own words. Not a single gun, not a single barrel, was raised as the rival teams clashed hard. This was all about respect.
Drake rose, left his machine pistol on the rucksack, and met a charge head on. Fists connected with his chest and his upraised arms. A knee plowed hard into his ribs. Drake felt the air explode from his body, and fell to one knee. The assault was relentless, knees and fists hitting hard and raining down, the ferocity designed to allow him no chance of retaliation or relief. He took the pain and bided his time. Other scenes flashed by as he twisted and turned. Alicia struggled with a tall man; Hayden and Kinimaka engaged with the leader. Mai sent her opponent over her shoulder and then came down painfully on his sternum.
Drake saw the chance and seized it. Behind, he heard Torsten Dahl make the usual entrance, leaping over the top of the stairs; a big presence and impossible to ignore. Drake’s attacker paused for just an instant.
The ex-SAS man was scrambling across the ground, swinging his legs and catching his opponent at the back of the knee. He tumbled forward, falling to his knees. As he fell to Drake’s level, the Yorkshireman delivered a massive head-butt. A yell and a widening of the eyes signified how hard he’d hit. The Chinese special ops man wavered and held himself up on one hand. Drake rose and returned the favor in full—striking with knees and jabs to the head. Bruises appeared and blood flowed, but nothing life threatening.
Dahl rushed past, targeting Alicia’s opponent. The Swede hit like a bull just as Alicia struck out. Her attacker flew off his feet and came down hard on the back of his neck, shuddering, stunned. The two turned in time to see Mai knock her own opponent unconscious and then located the man with the box.
“Hey!” Alicia cried as he set eyes on them and started to run.
They took off at a sprint, but Smyth and Yorgi had already circumvented the battle. “Y’see?” Alicia said. “We have strength in numbers. I knew there was a reason we suffered so many in this bloody team.”
Up ahead,
Kenzie blocked the man’s only other route—back into the mausoleum. With a grim glare now and a resigned stance, he took out the weapon he’d earlier stored away.
Drake checked the area, and saw Hayden finally subduing the team leader.
“Don’t do it!” he cried at the man. “You’re way outnumbered, pal.”
Hayden glanced up, took in the situation, and then wiped blood from her cheek. Drake now saw Altan creeping back up the steps to take a look and sighed to himself. Curiosity ...
The gun remained steady, the box still held tightly, almost in a death grip. Hayden rose and held up a hand, palm out. The tall incense burner stood between herself and the man, but she moved until she had a clear line of sight.
Kenzie advanced from the rear. Smyth and Kinimaka from the side. There were no signs of panic in the soldier’s eyes, only resignation.
“Nobody died.” Hayden indicated the unconscious and groaning Chinese soldiers. “Nobody has to. Just leave the box.”
Alicia caught his attention. “And if you need a slap just to make it look good,” she said. “I’m here.”
A soldier’s mentality did not include giving up. And this guy had nowhere to go, no route of escape.
“The gun,” Drake said, “is a false hope. You know it is.”
The comment struck home, the gun hand wavering for the first time. A heavy silence stretched and Drake noticed a couple of the downed men starting to stir. “You gotta decide, pal,” he said. “Clock’s ticking.”
Almost immediately the man slipped his gun away and started to run. He aimed for Hayden and then, close to the incense burner, threw an arm against the top, hoping to topple it toward her. A dull clunk and a groan was his only reward as the object proved to be solidly fixed, but he kept on running.
Hayden waited, keeping his attention.
Alicia sprinted in from the blind side, diving and taking him in a rugby tackle around the waist. The man folded, almost broken in two, head striking Alicia’s shoulder and the box tumbling away. Hayden made a scramble for it, catching it up before too much damage was done. A quick glance affirmed the Order’s crest.
Alicia patted the unconscious man. “Told you I’d be there for you.”
The team evaluated. The Chinese were already moving. The French had to be close. A word from Hayden brought Lauren back on the line.
“Bad news, guys. The French have eyes on you and the Russians have eyes on them. Get moving!”
Bollocks!
Drake stared all the way back down the steps and along the straight path that led to the mausoleum. He saw running men, a team of four that almost certainly had to be the French. “They’re bloody good,” he said. “In real terms, that’s twice they’ve gotten to us first.”
“We should go,” Smyth said. “They’ll be on us in minutes.”
“Go where?” Alicia asked. “They’re hogging the only exit.”
Drake spied trees to the sides and lawns to the front. In real terms, the choice was limited.
“C’mon,” he said. “And Lauren, send in the chopper.”
“On its way.”
“Make it quick,” Smyth said. “Those French are fast on their feet.”
Drake took off, leading the way, assuming the Russians couldn’t be too far behind. Sadly, it couldn’t be long before somebody started shooting. They had fared well so far, seeing the best of soldier-to-soldier and man-to-man values, but the chances of such a fragile truce lasting were minimal.
Let’s face facts, if these countries wanted to work together and share the rewards, the men and women in the seats of power know full well it would be the easier way—and yet still they fight.
He slipped among the trees. The team rushed in his wake, Hayden clutching the ornate box with its so-far undiscovered secret. Dahl loitered at the back, tracking the progress of the French.
“Five minutes behind us. No sign of the Russkies. And the Chinese are waking up. Good, that might hold them all up a bit.”
“Chopper ten minutes,” Lauren informed them.
“Tell him to get his foot down,” Alicia said. “This guy’s supposed to be hot.”
“I’ll pass that on.”
Drake took the most direct route, hoping for a nice swathe of cover. The trees stretched to all sides, the ground soft and loamy, and smelling richly of the earth. Kenzie picked up a thick branch, shrugging as she ran as if to say, ‘this will have to do.’ First a long dip and then a sharp incline, and the route behind them vanished. The skies were barely visible and all sound was muted.
“I just hope nobody’s waiting for us up ahead,” Dahl said.
Kinimaka grunted, pushing hard. “Trust the listeners,” he said, clearly harking back to his CIA days. “They’re better than you think.”
Drake also saw that they were not here, on the ground, and possessed little field instinct. He scanned every horizon, confident that Dahl would be doing the same from the back. After four minutes, they briefly paused to listen.
“Bearings on that chopper?” Hayden whispered to Lauren.
The New Yorker could see their position as blinking blue blobs on a scanner. “Dead ahead. Keep going.”
All around was silent; they could be the only people in the world. Drake continued after a while, picking his steps carefully. Alicia crept along at his side, Hayden a step behind. The rest of the team now spread out to maximize their range. Weapons were drawn and held loosely.
Ahead, the trees were thinning. Drake stopped near the outer perimeter, checking the lay of the land.
“Short slope down to a flat field,” he said. “Perfect for the chopper. Shit, even a Swede could hit a target that big.”
“Three minutes to rendezvous,” Lauren said.
Hayden leaned close to Drake. “How’s it looking?”
“No sign of enemies.” He shrugged. “But considering who we’re dealing with why would there be?”
Dahl approached. “Same here. They’re out there all right, but well hidden.”
“And you can be sure they’re heading this way,” Mai said. “Why are we waiting?”
Dahl eyed Drake. “The Yorkshire Pudding needs a breather.”
“One day,” Drake said, giving the terrain a final glance. “You’re gonna say something really surprisingly hilarious, but until then please, just speak when you’re spoken to.”
They eased out of the tree line, advancing down the sharp, grassy slope. A warm breeze greeted Drake, a pleasant sensation after the cloying stand of trees. The entire area was empty and fenced off close to where it ended at a stretch of tarmac far ahead.
“Move it now,” Drake said. “We can set up a perimeter on the flat land.”
But then the peace and emptiness of the entire area was shattered. The SPEAR team raced downhill, whilst to their left the Russians poured from where they’d been concealed. Ahead of both of them, sheltered by a far copse, the French also burst into view.
At least, that was Drake’s take on things. They weren’t exactly wearing name tags, but the features and bearings were strikingly different.
At the same time, their chopper appeared in the skies above.
“Oh shit.”
To his left, a Russian dropped to one knee and steadied a rocket launcher across one shoulder.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Drake spun mid-step, and opened fire. His bullets tore up the grass around the elite soldier but didn’t spoil his preparations. The rocket launcher never wavered; the arm balancing it remained firm. His comrades fanned out all around him, returning fire. Drake suddenly found himself in a world of danger.
The French ran hard straight for the landing chopper. Drake, along with Dahl and Smyth, kept the Russians at bay and wary. The pilot’s face was visible, focused on a place to land. Alicia and Mai didn’t slow one bit, and waved to catch his attention.
Bullets laced the air.
Drake winged one of the Russian, sending him to one knee. Hayden’s voice thundered across the comms.
“Pilot, evade! Lauren tell him, they have rockets!”
Drake, Dahl and Smyth battered the Russian contingent, but they remained too far away to line up properly, especially whilst moving. The pilot looked up, face stricken.
The RPG fired, the missile shooting out with a whoosh of air and a hefty clap. Drake and the others could only watch helplessly as it left a trail in the air and flew unerringly straight toward the chopper. Panicking hard, the pilot made a jerky evasive maneuver, banking the helicopter, but the streaking rocket was too fast, impacting with the underside and exploding in a billow of smoke and flame. The chopper lurched and fell, pieces falling away and hurtling beyond its flight path.
It was only then, as he stared in disbelief, distress and grim anger that he saw where its terrible trajectory would take it.
The French saw it coming and tried to scatter, but the devastated helicopter smashed to the ground among them.
Drake hit the ground, burying his head inside a divot. Red and orange flames shot upward and outward, and black smoke billowed up at the sky. The bulk of the chopper landed on one man; he and the pilot dying instantly. A rotor blade sheared away and passed clean through a third unfortunate, so fast and sudden he knew nothing about it. Drake looked up to see another struck by an enormous chunk of burning debris. The force of the blow knocked him off his feet and a dozen steps backward, after which he ceased all movement.
Only two Frenchmen remained alive; the bulk of the team devastated in one unfortunate incident. Drake saw one of them crawling away from the raging fire, his arm singed, and the other staggering over. Somehow, the second managed to cling to a weapon and help his comrade away at the same time.
Drake swallowed his rage and kept a tight hold on his focus. Their only method of extraction was down, destroyed. Hayden still held the box, but now the Russians were rushing at them, intentions absolutely apparent. The man with the RPG was still aiming at the wreckage as if considering a second strike.
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