The Valhalla Prophecy

by Andy McDermott

  Lock stiffened. Natalia stepped closer. “Don’t move,” she ordered. “Drop your guns or I will blow us all up.”

  “Put it down or I’ll shoot them,” he countered.

  She lowered her right hand until the prongs touched her skin. “I’ll do it, I will do it! Let them go!”

  “You won’t kill yourself. Or them.” Lock relaxed slightly, smugness creeping into his expression. “I may not be your father, but I still know a lot about you. You’re a peacenik—you wouldn’t kill anyone. You couldn’t.”

  “You do not know me at all,” she said. Though her voice was still shaky, Chase recognized the same resolve behind it as when she told him of her hatred for weapons of war. “I know why you want to use me—you, and the Russians. You want to start Serafim Volkov’s work again. Yes, I know all about him,” she added on seeing Lock’s surprise, “and what he did to my grandmother, and my mother—and to me. I will not let you do that!”

  Lock’s response was to move the Glock away from Castille, aiming at her legs. “Put it down, Natalia, or I’ll put you down.”

  “Don’t!” said Hoyt. “If she drops it, it’ll go off!” His boss hesitated.

  “You think that because I believe in peace, I am a coward?” Natalia went on, stopping three meters from the four men. “You are wrong. I will not allow you to use me to make a weapon. I already know that I will not live to be old, because of my grandfather’s experiments—but I would rather die to save lives than in pain in a hospital bed.”

  “You’d be killing Chase and his friend too,” Lock said.

  “We’re fine with that,” said Chase. Castille raised a forefinger, about to express his own opinion to the contrary, but the Englishman continued: “If it stops you arseholes from getting your hands on a bioweapon, then it’s worth it. So if you don’t drop your guns … then Natalia, blow us up.” He gave her a look to assure her he was serious, then turned back to Lock. “You’ve got ten seconds.”

  The American’s gun was still pointed at Natalia, but was no longer rock-steady. “Hoyt!” said Lock. “Do something!”

  “Do what?” protested the mercenary. “If that mine blows, we’re all dead!”

  “It might be a dud!”

  “You wanna bet your life on that?” To Lock’s dismay, Hoyt cautiously lowered his AK-47 to the ground.

  Chase smiled coldly at Lock. “Four. Three …”

  “Goddammit!” Lock spat. He dropped the Glock.

  “Smart lad,” said Chase, standing and collecting the fallen gun. Castille did the same with the AK, gesturing for Hoyt to back away. “Natalia, stay still until we’ve dealt with these two.”

  “Okay,” she said, the tremor returning to her voice.

  “Edward, we have to get out of here,” Castille said. He glanced toward the northern track. There was not yet any indication of approaching vehicles, but the river’s noise masked other sounds.

  “We’ll take the jeep,” said Chase, quickly checking the Glock before pointing it at its former owner. They would have to go south; a risk, as it took them back in the direction of the Russian camp, but it would be preferable to running head-on into a truck full of what he expected to be well-armed mercenaries. He waved for Lock to join Hoyt. “You two dickheads, get your hands up and move back. Now!” The two Americans reluctantly obeyed.

  Castille climbed into the Land Cruiser and started the engine. Chase went to the young German. “Okay, Natalia, I’ll take the mine. Move your hand off the top, it’s okay.”

  Both her hands shook as she offered the weapon to him. He splayed his left fingers, palm up, and carefully took its weight. She gasped in relief as it finally left her grip. “Okay, get in the jeep,” he ordered. She hurried to the Toyota.

  Chase kept the gun trained on Hoyt and Lock as he backed off the wooden deck. Natalia got into the front passenger seat; he went to the open tailgate.

  Castille regarded the Bouncing Betty with disbelief. “Why are you bringing that?”

  “I’m not bringing it, I’m using it!” The sound of another engine, approaching quickly from the north, had just reached the Englishman. He crouched and put the land mine in one of the muddy ruts, then jumped into the back of the Land Cruiser and yanked the tailgate shut. “Okay, go!”

  Castille set off in a spray of mud, the four-by-four fishtailing across the sodden trail before finding grip and jumping forward. Loose items skittered about the rear cargo area as he accelerated, Chase among them. He grabbed one of the folded seats to brace himself and looked back. Lock and Hoyt were already running toward the track—and waving furiously, not at him but at a second Land Cruiser that had just come into sight.

  Its driver reacted to their warning, braking hard. But the sheer weight of the big SUV and its occupants sent it slithering onward through the mud, the rutted surface channeling it directly at the waiting land mine.

  Lock and Hoyt both flung themselves flat as the Toyota’s front wheel hit the Bouncing Betty—

  Even though he was now outside the weapon’s effective range, Chase instinctively ducked—but there was no explosion. A feeble puff of smoke came from the detonator. Then Castille rounded a bend in the track, but Chase still managed a short laugh at the sight of a mud-stained Lock looking up in a mixture of relief and fury before being lost to view. “Christ! All that faffing about, and we could have used the bloody thing as a football if we’d wanted.”

  “It did not blow up?” asked Natalia.

  “Nope—although I wish it had, ’cause now we’ve got a whole truckful of those arseholes coming after us!”

  “Oh, merveilleux,” Castille said with a sigh. “I do not suppose you have a plan, Edward? No, of course not,” he added.

  “I’ll come up with something. Just keep going.” He looked at Natalia. “That was good thinking back there—a hell of a bluff,” he told her with admiration. “I was convinced, so I’m not surprised they bought it too.”

  “So did I!” Castille said with a grimace.

  “I was not bluffing,” she replied quietly.

  He was not sure how to respond to the admission, but had no time to do so as he saw headlights in the rearview mirror. The second Land Cruiser was powering after them. “Hugo, put your foot down,” he said, pocketing the Glock and reaching over the rear seat for the Belgian’s AK-47. “Here they come.”

  19

  Russia

  “Get behind me,” Eddie told Nina and Tova, his eyes fixed on Slavin’s gun.

  Tova obeyed, but Nina stayed beside him, crouching to check on Eisenhov. “He’s still alive—we’ve got to help him.”

  She reached out to apply pressure to the gushing bullet wound, but Slavin jabbed his pistol at her. “No! Up! Stand up! Or I shoot you too.” She reluctantly straightened.

  “You were working for the Americans,” said Kagan, disgusted. “All these years, you were a spy for them! Why?”

  The Russian officer was sweating, almost hyperventilating in his near-panic. “I—I lost money gambling,” he gasped. “I had to borrow from gangsters to pay for it. If the Americans had not helped, they would have killed me!”

  “So you became a traitor?” said Nina.

  “A traitor?” Slavin said, nearly screeching. He stepped closer and stabbed the gun at her again. “To what? This country is run by gangsters, bottom to top—everyone is corrupt! If you do not have money, you are no one!” He glanced at the fallen steel canister. “But I will have money—I will sell Thor’s Hammer to the Americans. And then I will disappear.” With his free hand, he fumbled for a radio on his belt. “After I shoot the spies who have killed Dmitri Prokopiyevich!” He spoke in frantic Russian into the handset.

  “He is telling them we murdered the Academician,” Kagan warned the others.

  “Shut up!” Slavin stepped over Eisenhov and pointed the gun at his commander. “I have wanted to do this for a long—”

  Eisenhov jerked one leg sideways to hit Slavin’s ankle with his foot. It was only a light impact, but enough to
make the already agitated officer flinch and look down.

  His gun twitched away from Kagan—

  Eddie kicked the armchair at Slavin. Its broad back hit the Russian, sending him reeling. Before he could recover, Eddie used the chair as a springboard to dive at him. Both men crashed against a bookshelf, volumes cascading down.

  The Englishman took a particularly hefty tome to the top of his head. “Fuck!” he yelped, quickly shaking off the pain, but the distraction gave Slavin an opening. He drove his elbow into Eddie’s stomach, knocking him back, then spun and brought up his gun—

  Nina snatched up the steel container by its handle and smashed it against his outstretched hand with all her strength.

  Slavin shrieked as two of his fingers broke, only for his wail to be abruptly cut off as Eddie drove a punishing punch into his face. The Russian tumbled back over the armchair, blood spurting from his burst lip.

  Kagan retrieved the gun, then hurriedly checked on Eisenhov. “Nyet!” he gasped, mortified. The scientist wasn’t breathing. Tova put her hands to her mouth in horror.

  “Slavin would have killed us if not for him,” Nina reminded them. “He saved us.”

  Though dismayed, Kagan nodded as he stood. “He was a good man—a hero.”

  Eddie kicked Slavin. “Unlike this twat. What do we do with him?”

  Alarm bells sounded. “Watch him,” said Kagan, picking up the radio. He spoke rapidly into it, only for his face to fall as he listened to the reply. “This is not good,” he told the others.

  “What did they say?” Nina asked.

  “They believed him—they think we are spies, that we killed the Academician!”

  “But you are in charge here!” Tova protested. “Can’t you tell them that we did not?”

  Kagan glared at Slavin. “He is in charge of security at this bunker. They are his men, they are all chosen and promoted by him. Everyone is corrupt, indeed!” He thought for a moment. “We must protect Thor’s Hammer,” he said, indicating the container. “We cannot allow him to give it to the Americans.” He stepped on Slavin’s injured hand, making him scream. “To get past his men, we will have to use him as a hostage.”

  “Or a shield.” Eddie hauled the anguished Russian to his feet. “Is there any way out except for the lift?” Kagan shook his head. “You lot weren’t big on health and safety in the Cold War, were you?”

  “You will not get out,” rasped Slavin. “The bunker is locked down.”

  “I can override the lockdown when we get to the elevator,” insisted Kagan.

  “If we get to the elevator,” Nina said. “We’re at the opposite end of the bunker, and there are all those security doors to get through—as well as however many of his guys waiting for us outside!”

  Kagan gave her a grim smile. “Let us find out.” He grabbed Slavin from Eddie, twisting his wounded hand behind his back and pushing the gun to his head. “You will tell your men to stay back, or I will kill you.”

  “If you shoot me, they will shoot you,” Slavin growled in reply.

  “Then let’s hope nobody shoots anyone, huh?” said Nina.

  Kagan nodded. “Let us hope. Chase? Check the door.”

  Eddie eased it open a crack. A man outside shouted in Russian. “What did he say?”

  “He wants us to let Slavin go, and surrender,” said Kagan. He called out in his native language, then told Eddie: “Open it.”

  “You sure?”

  “I said I have him at gunpoint, and to pull back if they want him to live.”

  “Hope he wasn’t a shitty boss, then.” Eddie took a breath, then swung the door wide.

  They were not greeted by gunfire. “Okay, that’s a start,” said Nina. She peered nervously around the two Russians to see several uniformed men, weapons raised, at an intersection thirty feet down the main corridor. “Although it’s still not exactly a great one.”

  Kagan barked an order in Russian; when nothing happened, he ground the muzzle of his gun against Slavin’s head. His sweating prisoner reluctantly nodded, and the soldiers slowly backed away. “Dr. Wilde, Dr. Skilfinger—stay behind me.”

  Pushing Slavin ahead of him, he advanced through the door. Nina and Tova followed, Eddie joining the slow-moving line behind them. Kagan spoke to the Russians again, only to be interrupted by Slavin—whose frantic gabble broke off with a cry of pain as the other man crushed his hand. “Govno!” Kagan growled, before telling the others: “He told them to shoot us—if they can do it without hitting him.”

  Eddie looked ahead. “They’ll cut us down from the side corridors. We’ll never make it fucking plodding along like this.”

  Slavin managed a pained chuckle. “You think you can force me to run, Grigory Alekseyevich? Even with a gun to my head?”

  “Then we’ll have to do something else,” said Eddie. He spotted a fire extinguisher clipped to a bracket a few paces ahead. “Kagan, are you a good shot?”

  The Russian nodded. “Yes.”

  “A really good shot?”

  “Yes, yes!”

  They reached the extinguisher. “Okay—then shoot this!”

  Eddie yanked it from its clips and flung it down the corridor. It bounced off the hard floor with a loud clang, skittering into the intersection—

  Kagan whipped the gun away from Slavin’s head and fired. The bullet hit the pressurized metal cylinder—which exploded. The blast knocked the soldiers down, a freezing cloud of carbon dioxide leaving them blinded and choking.

  “Run!” Eddie yelled, racing past the others toward the junction. “Come on!”

  Kagan shoved Slavin forward, but the traitor deliberately stumbled, dropping flat to the floor. Kagan hesitated, then ran after Eddie. Both women followed him, Tova skirting the fallen man while Nina trampled on his hand, making him scream again.

  Eddie held his breath and ran into the cloud. It was already dispersing, shadowy shapes resolving into the Russian soldiers. He kicked the closest of the staggering figures in the head, then snatched up his AK-103 assault rifle. Another savage kick downed a second trooper; then he was through the swirling mist.

  The corridor ahead was empty. “It’s clear, go!” he shouted. Behind him, Kagan emerged from the cloud, Tova and Nina in his wake.

  Eddie increased his pace. One of the security doors was ahead. “Kagan! Can you open it?”

  “Yes, my card will override it,” came the reply.

  “Then bloody do it, quick!” He turned to cover the rear as Kagan reached the door. The carbon dioxide had now mostly cleared—revealing one of the soldiers back on his feet, bringing up his AK—

  Eddie fired first, sending the man crashing to the floor. Bright red blood stained the white tiles. Tova screamed, clutching her hands to her ears as the Kalashnikov’s clamor echoed off the walls. The other soldiers hurriedly retreated down the side passages, Slavin scrambling after them.

  Kagan found his keycard and jammed it into the slot. A warning buzzer sounded, but he stabbed a four-digit code into a keypad and the door heaved itself aside. He pulled out the card, gun raised as he scanned the corridor beyond. “Okay, it is clear!”

  “Go!” Eddie said, backing toward the door. Kagan went first, the women right behind. The Russian waited for Eddie to come through, then hit a button on the door’s control panel. It slammed shut. “Can Slavin open that?”

  “Yes,” Kagan told him. “We must hurry.” He ran down the central corridor to the next junction, peering around the corner to check the adjoining passages. “Clear.”

  The group hurried through the intersection and headed for the next security barrier. Nina glanced through the window into one of the laboratories as they passed. Confused scientists, locked in their work spaces when the alarm sounded, stared back, reacting with horrified shock when they saw what she was carrying. Unlike the Tsar Protocol, Thor’s Hammer was clearly no secret to Unit 201’s staff.

  Kagan entered the code into the next door, which opened. Again he checked that nobody was lying in wait on t
he other side before going through. “Two more doors, then we reach the elevator,” he said.

  Nina followed him. “Shit! Here they come!” she cried, looking back to see the first barrier opening again. Someone poked their head around it, jerking back as Eddie fired.

  “Hope the fucking lift’s still at the bottom,” he said, coming through and hitting the button. The door rolled shut—as a bullet hit the other side with a piercing clang. “Okay, we need to pick up the pace!”

  They ran past more labs, some occupied, others dimly lit and empty, and reached another security door. Kagan entered the code again. The door opened—followed a few seconds later by the one behind them.

  Eddie fired two more shots to deter their pursuers, then darted through the narrowing gap as Kagan closed the barrier. More bullets twanged off the other side. “Only one more,” said the Russian.

  They quickly reached the last door, Kagan using his card to open it. The barrier behind them opened almost in sync. This time, Slavin’s men were already in position and ready to shoot. Nina shrieked as a bullet shattered a tile just behind her. Eddie switched his AK-103 to full auto and unleashed a deafening burst of fire down the corridor, one of the crouched figures taking a bloody hit to the shoulder and falling with a wail. His comrades retreated into cover.

  “Chase!” shouted Kagan. “The elevator, we are almost there!”

  Eddie backed through, the door closing behind him. He looked down the passage. The elevator was twenty yards away, at the far end of the lobby area. There was one more intersection to cross, but beyond that it was a straight run past the final labs. He quickly moved to the junction and glanced down each of the side passages.

  No one there. “Clear here,” he said, looking back at the elevator as Kagan ran past him. Still nobody in the lobby.

  Wait …

  Overhead lights in the reception area were casting shadows on the floor at the end of the corridor.

  Moving shadows—

  “Back, get back!” he yelled, pulling Nina into one of the side passages. “They’re waiting for us! Tova, down here!”

  Tova fearfully rushed after them. Kagan skidded on the tiled floor, then reversed direction—as several soldiers leapt out from hiding and brought up their AK-103s.