Drake cringed. If the enormous, heavy weapon freed from its chocks and broke its straps they were all in trouble.
Out into the daylight they raced. Twenty miles per hour and then thirty, the three flatbeds roared as their drivers hit the gas pedal. A wide open road opened out ahead, almost straight toward the base exit about two miles away. Now alongside each other, Drake could look across from his own truck to Dahl’s and then to Kinimaka’s. The sight of massive, shifting nuclear missiles, battling men alongside, guns being fired, knives and fists being used, people being thrown off, no quarter given, the road bending and all three trucks downshifting into the turn, stunned him to the core. It was a bedlam of greed and violence, a glimpse into Hell.
But now the SEALs took his full attention.
Four strong, they had first attacked the SAS, taking one down without concern. The British rallied and came back hard, forcing the SEALs to take cover. Four men now ran behind the trucks, hoping to jump aboard. The SAS commander, Cambridge, fought hand to hand with a SEAL, both taking blows. Mai and Alicia were busy kicking off guards and trying to find a hole in the melee.
Drake came face to face with the SEAL team leader. “Why?” he said.
“Don’t ask questions,” the man growled and came at Drake. The blows were precise and incredibly harsh, much like his own. He blocked, felt the pain from those blocks, and punched back. He kicked solidly. A knife appeared in the other man’s hand. Drake parried it with his own, sending both weapons flickering away and off the truck.
“Why?” he said again.
“You fucked up. You and your crew.”
“How?” Drake backpedalled to gain some space.
“And why would the bastards want to kill us?” Alicia asked, popping up behind the man.
He struck instantly, catching her across the temple. Drake shoved a boot into his kidneys, and watched him fall. Alicia planted her own foot into his face. Together, they threw him spinning over the side.
Ahead, the road widened.
Mai dispatched two guards. Another SAS man went down and now the British and the Americans were evenly matched. Three versus three. Drake saw the two Chinese he’d seen earlier creep like spiders over the top of the nuke.
“Watch it!”
Too late. They fell upon him.
*
Dahl knew, in essence, that they were headed to Romania. That was good. It was the half-hour-long drive that might kill them before they got there.
He fought the Chinese and the guards, kicked them back and found they jumped up, wanting more. The Chinese slipped around his guard, hitting with force, and twice almost skewering him with their wicked blades. More guards surrounded him. Hayden resorted to flinging them off the truck until their numbers wilted.
At the rear, Kenzie dispatched the last of her enemies. The machine gun was empty, the katana dripping red. She stalked back up the flatbed, now narrowing her eyes as two Chinese came at her together, stabbing with knives. She parried, stepping around. They pulled guns. She leapt into their faces, surprising them. A shot went under her arm, glancing off the nuke. She found herself next to one of the chocks with a handgun pointed at her face.
“Crap.”
The only way was up. She kicked the arm that held the gun, flinging it away, and then scrambled up the chock and onto the body of the nuke. She reached the top, found it was simply a gentle curve up there, but hazardous to balance. Instead, she sat astride the nuke, katana in hand.
“Come and fucking get me!” she screamed. “If you dare.”
They went up fast, perfectly balanced. Kenzie stood on top of the warhead, twirling her sword and they came at her with knives. A thrust and a swipe. She parried, but they drew blood. It spattered onto the missile. The truck jounced at thirty miles per hour. The Chinese adjusted supremely. Kenzie lost her balance, slipped, and once again fell astride the missile.
“Ow.”
The wind gusted through her hair, cold as a freezer. A knife came down at her. She switched the katana to the other hand, caught the wrist between her fingers and then jerked harshly to the side. The wrist broke, the knife fell. She wrenched the body that way too, and saw it fly headfirst from the truck. The second man was already attacking. Kenzie threw the katana back to her right hand and let him run right into the point. He hung for a moment until Kenzie cast him aside.
Then she looked down from her perch atop the nuke, katana blade dripping blood onto those that battled below.
“Two Chinese down. Three to go.”
Alicia was looking over at her from her won truck, having watched the battle atop the warhead. “That looked so friggin’ awesome,” she said. “I do believe I have an erection.”
Dahl stared up at her from his own truck. “Me too.”
But then the warhead began to shift.
CHAPTER FORTY ONE
Dahl noticed the shift immediately, saw the two straps they’d managed to unfasten flapping in the wind and then a third—twanging apart like the world’s craziest rubber band, slapping viciously against the nuke and the bottom of the flatbed. On its first powerful snap-back it struck a guard in the pit of the stomach, sending him flying, arms and legs akimbo, straight off the side of the truck and point blank into the rear wheels of the one traveling alongside. Dahl winced at the result.
The nuke shifted again. Dahl felt a red mist fall over him as Kenzie struggled on top, and Hayden fought right underneath its shadow with no idea what was coming. He shouted, bellowed, to no avail. The tire roar, the screaming, the focus required to do combat; it all hampered their hearing. He jumped on the comms.
“Move. The nuke’s about to go!”
Kenzie stared down. “Go where? You mean take off?”
“Nooo!”
At the end of his tether, the Swede ran like a madman, close to Hayden, and put his shoulder against the incredible missile’s bulk. “The nuke’s coming down!”
Hayden rolled fast, the guard too. The warhead slithered another inch. Dahl hefted it with every ounce of strength he’d ever mustered, every muscle shrieking.
A heavy thud sounded next to him.
Crap.
But it was Kenzie, still holding the katana and with a sarcastic smile across her face. “Damn, you are one crazy motherfucking hero. You really think you can hold that even for a second?”
“Ummm, no. Not really.”
“Then move.”
The Mad Swede dived clear.
*
Drake and Alicia managed to snatch a second to share the spectacle.
“What the hell is Dahl doing?” Alicia asked. “Is he hugging the goddam nuke?”
“Don’t be a fool,” Drake snapped with a shake of the head. “Clearly he’s snogging it.”
Drake then leapt aside to help the SAS boys, pulling a SEAL away from a younger man and hurling him against the nuke. The man’s entire frame shuddered. Punches were exchanged and then the SEAL was lying unconscious, prone but alive. Drake intended to keep him so.
Another SEAL died and then an SAS soldier, both stabbed at close range. Cambridge and the young man were all that remained. They teamed up with Drake to face the last SEAL. At the same time, Alicia and Mai joined them. The truck thundered along the dirt road, touching the one beside it once and careening off. The collision managed to stabilize Dahl’s nuke, jamming it down onto its outsize chocks. As one, the three vehicles smashed through the exit gate and continued on, heading for Romania. Steel and concrete were utterly destroyed, bursting to and fro. By now the choppers had lifted off and were flying alongside the trucks, men with heavy artillery leaning out of the doors and focused on the drivers.
Drake stayed the attack on the SEAL. “Wait. You’re Special Ops. American. Why would you try to kill us?”
In truth, he’d never expected an answer, but in response, the man attacked. He felled Cambridge and then winded Drake. The young SAS man fell to the side. The SEAL was tough and without mercy, delivering blow after crushing blow. But then Mai face
d up to him.
Eight seconds later and the fight was over. Again, they let him live, groaning in a heap, disarmed.
Drake turned to Cambridge. “I can’t say how much we appreciate your help, Major. I’m so sorry for the loss of your men. But please, if you would, let these men live, they were only following orders.”
The two surviving SEALs looked up, surprised and perhaps wondering.
Cambridge nodded. “I understand and agree with you, Drake. In the end, we’re all pawns.”
Drake made a face. “Well, not anymore. The American government just tried to kill us. I don’t see a way back from that.”
Cambridge shrugged. “Strike back.”
Drake smiled grimly. “A man after my own heart. It was good to meet you, Major Cambridge.”
“And you, Matt Drake.”
He nodded at Mai and Alicia then headed precariously toward the back of the truck. Drake stared after him, checking the stability of the warhead at the same time. All looked well.
“You know they’re gonna jog back and nick the sword?” Alicia prompted him.
“Yeah, but you know what? I don’t give a fuck. The Sword of Mars is the least of our problems.” He keyed the comms. “Hayden? Dahl? How you doing over there?”
“Good,” Hayden came back. “The last of the Chinese just jumped off. Going for the sword.”
Kenzie cackled. “No, they saw me in action.”
“Didn’t we all.” Drake smiled. “I ain’t gonna forget that sight in a while.”
Alicia slammed him right on the shoulder. “Cool off, soldier boy. Next you’ll be wanting me to stick a nuke between my legs.”
“Nah, don’t worry,” Drake said as he turned away. “I’ll do that for you later.”
*
The choppers bullied and threatened and cajoled the drivers to slow their vehicles. Of course, at first it didn’t work, but after somebody put a large caliber round through one of the windshields, the men that thought themselves untouchable suddenly began to doubt. Three minutes later, the trucks slowed, hands came out of the windows, and all motion stopped.
Drake caught his balance, used to the constant jarring and forward momentum. He jumped down to the ground, aware that the comms had suddenly fired back into life and now keeping a very close eye on their pilots.
No sound came from the comms. DC, for once, was silent.
The team gathered after destroying their earpieces. They sat on a grassy knoll overlooking the three missile carriers, wondering what the world and its more malevolent characters might throw at them next.
Drake eyed a pilot. “Could you fly us to Romania?”
The man’s eyes never flickered. “Sure,” he said. “Can’t see why not. The nukes are headed there anyway, to be stored inside a base. We’ll get a head start.”
Together, they departed another battlefield.
Together, they remained strong.
*
Hours later, the team vacated a Romanian safe house and took a bus to Transylvania, alighting near Bran Castle, the supposed site of the home of Count Dracula. Here, among high trees and tall mountains, they found a dark, quiet guesthouse and settled in. The lights were low. The team now wore civilian clothes, taken from the safe house, and possessed only what weapons and ammo they’d been able to carry, as well as a good stash of money from the safe that Yorgi had picked. They had no passport, no papers, no identities.
They congregated in one room. Ten people, no comms. Ten people on the run from the American government with no idea whom they might trust. No clear place to turn to. No more SPEAR and no secret base. No Pentagon office or DC home. What families they had were out of bounds. What contacts they might use could be compromised.
The whole world had changed on some unknown, obscure executive order.
“What next?” Smyth broached the issue first, his voice pitched low in the poorly lit room.
“First, we finish the mission,” Hayden said. “The Order of the Last Judgment sought to take the world down by secreting four terrible weapons. War, through Hannibal, which was the great gun. Conquest, through Genghis Kahn which was the linchpin code we destroyed. Famine, through Geronimo which was the bio-weapon. And finally Death, through Attila, which were six nuclear weapons. Together, these weapons would have reduced our society as we know it to rubble and chaos. I think we can safely say we neutralized the threat.”
“With the only loose end being the Sword of Mars,” Lauren said. “Now in the hands of either the Chinese or the British.”
“I do hope it’s us,” Drake said. “The SAS saved us back there and lost some good men. I hope Cambridge doesn’t get a reprimand.”
“Moving forward ...” Dahl said. “Even we can’t do this alone. First, what the hell are we going to do now? And second, who can we trust to help us do it?”
“Well, first we find out what made the Americans turn on us,” Hayden said. “My guess is the Peru operation, and ... other stuff ... that happened. Is it just a few powerful men against us? A splinter group influencing others? I can’t believe for one second that Coburn would sanction this.”
“You’re saying we should sneak in for a chat with the President?” Drake asked.
Hayden shrugged. “Why not?”
“And if it is a splinter group,” Dahl said. “We take them down.”
“Alive,” Mai said. “The only way we survive all this is to catch our enemies alive.”
The team sat around the large room in various poses, the curtains drawn tight against an impenetrable night. Deep in Romania, they talked. Planned. It soon became clear that they did have resources, but those resources were sparse. Drake could count them on the fingers of one hand.
“Where next?” Kenzie asked, still hanging onto her katana, letting the blade bask in the dim light.
“Forward,” Drake said. “We always go forward.”
“If we ever stop,” Dahl said. “We die.”
Alicia held on to Drake’s arm. “And I thought my days of running away were over.”
“This is different,” he said, then sighed. “Of course, you know that. Sorry.”
“It’s okay. Dumb, but pretty. Finally, I realized—that’s my type.”
“Does this mean we’re on the run?” Kenzie asked. “Because I really wanted to get away from all that.”
“We will get this sorted.” Dahl leaned closer to her. “I promise you. I have my children too, don’t forget. I will overcome anything and everything for them.”
“You didn’t mention your wife.”
Dahl stared and then sat back, thinking. Drake saw Kenzie shift a little closer to the big Swede. He shed it from his thoughts and studied the room.
“Tomorrow is another day,” he said. “Where do you want to go first?”
THE END
The Seven Seals of Egypt
(Matt Drake #17)
By
David Leadbeater
CHAPTER ONE
A dense fog swirled and thickened beyond the edge of town, seeping inside the blurred boundaries with questing fingers as cold as ice. The midnight darkness, already close to impenetrable, congealed until it resembled a living, breathing, shambling thing. All noise was muted, and the views across the valleys toward what they now knew was Dracula’s castle were reduced to a creeping white mist pressed up against the window panes as if seeking a way inside.
A crackling fire warmed the inside of the large room, embers spitting in the hearth like angry demons, a chorus line of bright orange flames dancing along the walls and on the ceiling. The crackling pop and bang of timbers filled the room like gunshots, putting the gathering on edge.
“We can’t stay here,” Torsten Dahl said.
“We ain’t going anywhere.” Hayden nodded at the nearest window.
“Yeah, get a grip, Torsty,” Alicia Myles croaked in a mock-frightened voice. “It’s impossible to say what’s lurking about in that mist.”
The Swede shook his head slowly. “You’ve been
reading too much Stephen King.”
Alicia blinked. “Reading who? Do I look like I spend my time in bed reading?”
“You’re the one afraid of ghosts.”
“Dude.” Alicia lowered her voice and stared around theatrically. “You know we’re in Transylvania, right?”
The Swede ignored her. “A few days is fine. But ten Europeans staying at the same hotel for almost a week. Rarely leaving. Eating indoors. Staying together. Looking shifty—”
“One thing I do not look,” Kenzie said, close to Dahl’s right elbow, “is shifty.”
“Maybe not. But I do. I know it’s surprising—but Alicia does have a point. We don’t look like . . . civilians.”
Alicia only nodded as if sharing wisdom. Kenzie took a moment to study the other faces in the room.
“And do you think we could ever be civilians?”
Matt Drake grunted and drank coffee. “I’ve been struggling with that one for years, love.”
“You tried once, didn’t you?”
“Yeah. Didn’t work out so well.”
“Which leaves us—” Hayden gestured at the four walls “—here.”
It was the largest room in the guesthouse, where Drake and Alicia were staying. The carpet and the painted walls were tired-looking, the furniture shabby. The bed was small and uncomfortable. Black and white photographs on the wall portrayed several castles and were smeared and dusty. The baseboards and corners of the room were chipped and pitted, untouched for years.
“Where to next then?” Kinimaka asked.
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