Hitting a stationary object at fifty yards with a pistol was difficult at night, even if man-sized. A body in motion was nearly impossible, Lucas knew, but that wasn’t going to stop him from trying. He fired again and again, trying to anticipate the Crew boss’s movements, but in vain – the big man was more agile than he looked, and the gloom was working in his favor.
Lucas ejected a spent magazine and inserted a spare. He gave chase, but slowed as he neared a dense clump of the tall brush that dotted the hillside. Magnus could be behind any of the bushes, waiting to blow Lucas’s head off.
Lucas dropped to the ground in order to present as slim a target as possible and slid the monocle from his plate carrier. All he saw was scrub and rock, the side of the hill scored with small gullies. He waited, breathing heavily from the run, and then the earth near him sprayed into the air as more shots blasted from up the hill – these no more than thirty yards away. Lucas returned fire but didn’t hit anything.
Magnus was already on the move again, and Lucas pushed himself to his feet and gave chase, firing as he ran. Magnus emptied his pistol trying to hit him, and Lucas increased his speed as the warlord veered left and leapt across a six-foot gully before vanishing around an eroded rock formation.
Lucas slowed as he rounded the stones, but not in time to avoid a sledgehammer blow to his gun hand that knocked the Kimber from his grip. Magnus had jumped Lucas from a depression in the formation, leaving him with only his Bowie knife and a numb arm. The big man followed with a kick to Lucas’s solar plexus that his ceramic body armor absorbed most of, but the force knocked the wind from him and doubled him over. Lucas was reaching for his knife when Magnus’s knee caught him in the jaw, knocking him backward in a staggering fall, the pain blinding.
Magnus grinned in the dim moonlight, the occult symbols on his face lending him the appearance of a devil. He clenched and unclenched his hands as he neared, grunting like a wild beast. Lucas freed the knife with his left hand, but another kick whacked it from his grasp, and a spike of agony radiated from his wrist.
“I’m going to tear you apart, punkass,” Magnus growled, and rushed Lucas before he’d recovered. Magnus’s tree trunk arms wrapped around Lucas’s chest, crushing his ribs with viselike force. Lucas struggled for breath, but his lungs couldn’t expand, and he began to tremble as he fought for air, Magnus’s foul breath against his face. The warlord bounced Lucas like a rag doll, and the only thing that prevented all his ribs from cracking instantly was his body armor.
Magnus’s eyes gleamed at Lucas’s agony. Lucas tried to head butt him, but it had no effect but to amuse the madman, who tightened his grip even more. Magnus whispered in his ear, his voice a hiss. “You like that? Still wanna play? Do you?”
A snapping sound stopped Magnus cold, and Lucas drove a steel pin through Magnus’s eye. The warlord roared in agony and released Lucas, clawing at his eye, and then pawed at his bandolier in a panic as he realized where the pin had come from. Lucas dropped to the ground and dragged himself to the edge of the gully, tumbling into the wash as Magnus howled like a wounded beast.
The grenade blasted fire and stone in every direction, washing over the ground and sucking the oxygen from Lucas’s lungs at the bottom of the gulch, six feet below where Magnus had been atomized. The concussion of the explosion left Lucas dazed but alive, every muscle in his body aching from the mauling. Gagging at the stink of incinerated flesh from above, he probed his ribs beneath the flak jacket and was amazed that none appeared to be fractured.
A minute later, he emerged from the far end of the gully, lacking the energy to crawl back up the slope, and began trekking along the river to where silence had descended over the riparian expanse.
Chapter 56
Fewer than a third of the inhabitants remained alive and unwounded when the sun rose over Shangri-La, and another twenty-eight were suffering from injuries that varied from life-threatening to flesh wounds. The shelling had devastated the infrastructure, although the underground structures had mercifully remained intact, and most of the buildings above had sustained damage of one kind or another.
Elliot had been one of the lucky ones, but Michael had been injured during the shelling, suffering a broken arm and several deep lacerations along with a mild concussion. He stood beside Elliot with his arm in a sling and stitches crowning his head where he’d almost been brained when blown through the air by an exploding shell.
At five in the morning, Lucas had brought news of Magnus’s demise, as well as Arnold’s reappearance in the clinch. Elliot had listened with a wooden stare, in mild shock at how badly the valley had been brutalized. When Lucas finished his report, Michael had nodded slowly, clearly in pain. “Arnold wound up losing half his force after you left the river.”
“He did? How? He was mopping up Magnus’s remaining guards by the time I made it back to him.”
“He joined our canyon defense force and cut off the retreating Crew. Some of them escaped, but not many. We took heavy casualties stopping them, his men among them.”
“Arnold’s okay?”
“Yes. He’ll be here shortly. He wanted to hunt down as many of the remaining Crew as he could.”
The uninjured stood in a semicircle around Elliot and Michael, with Arnold nearby and Lucas by his side. Dawn had brought with it an unforgettable image of the extensive damage the valley had suffered from the artillery barrage. Elliot stepped forward, his shoulders stooped and fatigue lines etched into his countenance, to address the survivors.
“The good news is that many of us are alive and that we defeated the miscreants who were determined to annihilate us. The bad is obvious: we’ve lost too many good people in defending our home, and it’s no longer safe here. As such, we’ve discussed the matter at great length and decided that we should move somewhere safer.”
A hum rose from the crowd, and Elliot held up a hand. “This is not a unilateral decision for me to make. We’ll put it to a vote. My reasoning for wanting to leave is that some of the Crew members escaped, and even though their leader is dead, there’s no guarantee that his successor won’t continue with his plan for cornering the vaccine, which necessarily involves our destruction. If so, we’ll never be secure here.”
The vote was overwhelmingly in favor of moving the facilities to Colorado, which had been one of the alternate destinations Elliot and his advisors had looked at before deciding on the valley. There were several remote locations there with access to water and power, one with some mechanical engineering work required, but achievable. Elliot had assured the crowd that the vaccine development equipment, as well as the pharmaceutical lab, could be transported on carts, and after the vote, the decision was made to vacate the valley within the week, taking the wounded with them.
Elliot’s radio crackled as the gathering broke up, and a voice announced that a pair of riders were on their way from one of the alternate valley entry points. The throng watched as two dots materialized at the eastern edge and rode toward them at a steady clip.
Ruby gasped when she saw who it was. Terry and Aaron, scraped and bruised, atop a pair of filched Crew horses. When Terry dismounted, she ran to him and hugged him.
“I…I thought you…”
Terry shook his head. “The plane’s no more, but we walked away. Barely.”
Aaron nodded as he climbed from the saddle, Duke beaming at him from Lucas’s side. “Barely is right,” Aaron said. “We got our wing shot off, but Terry was able to put her down on a long stretch of empty road. Lost the wheels halfway through, but all told, could have been worse.” Aaron paused as he took in the damage around him. “Like we could have been here, looks like.”
“I figured they couldn’t kill you that easy,” Duke said, slapping him on the back.
“Too mean to go quietly,” Aaron agreed. His voice softened. “How many?”
“About two hundred,” Duke answered.
“God.”
“Like you said, could have been worse.”
Luc
as shook his head at Duke, and then his gaze moved to Sierra, who was watching Eve as she played with two little girls, chasing Ellie around in a circle, the prior day’s horror already fading with the mercifully short memory of youth. A hint of a smile tugged at his mouth, and he turned to Duke. “So what was this business proposition?”
“I was thinking of setting up shop, maybe around Santa Fe. But Colorado might be a decent spot, too.”
“And?”
“Could always use a partner. I’m not getting any younger.”
Lucas nodded. “Aaron seems fit.”
Duke frowned. “That mean you ain’t interested?”
“We can talk later, but right now it means I’ve got unfinished business,” Lucas said, his attention drawn back to Sierra. “Might want to gather up all the AKs and ammo you can find in the canyon, though. Be a nice start for the business, and some things never go out of style.”
“I’m already ahead of you on that. You know what I’ll be doing all week.” Duke paused. “How about you? Be nice to have another pair of hands to help, even if you don’t want to make it permanent.”
They were interrupted by Luis, a bandage around his arm where he’d been wounded by a Crew bullet. “Magnus has a ton of gold in his vehicle,” the ex-cartel boss said in a low voice. “I was going to go after it myself, but I figure it’s way more than I can carry, so might as well share the wealth.”
Duke absently drummed his fingers against his leg. “How much we talking?”
“Hundreds of kilos, at least.”
“Where did he get that kind of weight?”
“Dallas Federal Reserve had almost five hundred in their vault. The rest I heard he confiscated from jewelry stores and coin dealers in Houston and Austin.” Luis shrugged. “I haven’t seen it for myself, but the word was he brought a third of his fortune to finance the attack. I figure it’s worth a trip to investigate before the scavengers get to it.”
Duke grinned. “I love me a treasure hunt.” He paused. “But Lucas bagged that elephant. He should get a share.”
Luis shrugged. “If it’s there, I have no problem with that. A third, a third, and a third works for me.”
Duke offered his hand. “Might not have to trade any more after this.”
Luis looked him up and down. “Or you might want to take on more partners.”
Lucas walked away, unconcerned by the discussion of rumored wealth. There wasn’t much in the world that he wanted at the moment that gold could buy – it wouldn’t bring his grandfather or Bear back, it wouldn’t keep him safe, nor would it shield Sierra and Eve…
If anything, it could make him a target.
Still. Couldn’t hurt to ride down to the convoy and nose around with Duke.
He approached Sierra, who, like Ruby, had come through the shelling unscathed. She beamed at him. He cleared his throat, and she waited expectantly.
“We need to talk, don’t we?” he began.
She took his hands in hers with a slow nod. “That we do, Lucas.”
“Don’t want to have to worry about you running off every morning.”
Sierra got a faraway look in her eyes and stared at the peaks. “Me either.”
“No need to ask whether we’re going to Colorado, is there?”
She regarded Lucas with the beginnings of a wistful smile. “I’m glad you made it in one piece.”
“Same here.”
She sighed and squeezed his hand as the morning sun warmed her face, the flecks of gold in her eyes glowing as they caught the light. “We definitely need to talk.”
Chapter 57
The communications room in the basement of the church Magnus had taken over to use as his headquarters suddenly felt too small, even with only two men in it. The Houston Crew radio operator relayed the message he’d received to Snake, stammering in disbelief as he read from his notes. The transmission had come in fifteen minutes ago, and Snake had been summoned for an emergency conference.
“Magnus is dead,” the man repeated. “The whole army was wiped out except for a few dozen survivors. They made it back to Albuquerque and are awaiting instructions.” The operator looked up at Snake with fearful eyes. “There’s no mistake.”
“You’re absolutely sure this is genuine?”
“Yes. The sender knew the passwords and the code phrases.”
Snake shook his head. “A thousand men. Gone. And Magnus… I figured him as immortal.”
“What are we going to do?”
“Who else have you told?” Snake demanded.
“Nobody. I called for you when I decoded it. I don’t want to cause a panic.”
“That was smart. Very smart.” Snake nodded.
The operator straightened in his seat. “What happens now?”
“You’re to tell no one. I’ll deal with breaking the news. This has to be handled delicately, or there’s going to be complete chaos. Magnus was the glue that held Houston together. Without him and clear leadership… Well, I don’t want to think about it.”
The operator nodded his understanding. “I’ll keep it secret.”
“That may not be possible for long,” Snake said, processing the news. “This was over an open channel?”
“Yes. But it was coded.”
“Still.”
Snake turned away, and the operator swiveled back to the console. A flash of steel in Snake’s hand blurred as he whirled around and drove his dagger into the operator’s spine. The operator stiffened and went limp as Snake withdrew the blade, leaving the man lying in a pool of blood.
Snake exited the radio chamber and pulled the door closed. A guard nodded to him, and Snake ordered the man to ensure nobody entered the room until he returned.
An hour later, Snake was sitting in Magnus’s private dining room as a lunch of freshly dressed beef filets, field greens, and spiced wine was served for himself and three of the inner circle.
“Gentlemen, I have good news from Magnus!” Snake began. Servers placed heaping platters of mouthwatering fare before them, and a steward poured generous portions of wine in their cups.
“Yes?”
Snake signaled the servants. “Leave us. I’ll call for cleanup later.”
The wait staff trooped from the room. When the heavy mahogany door shut behind them, Snake leaned forward, his eyes glittering with manic excitement.
“The transmission was slim on details for security reasons, but apparently everything’s going to plan, and they’ve reached Shangri-La…and taken it!” Snake announced, his voice jubilant. He snatched up his cup and held it aloft in a toast. “Magnus estimates that he’ll be back before the week’s up. So today is one of celebration!”
The men joined Snake in the toast and drained their cups. Only Snake didn’t finish his wine and, soon after toasting, excused himself and made for the restroom to flush his mouth with soap and water. He’d swallowed none of the port, but wanted to take no chances, his future now assured if he played his cards right.
When he returned to the chamber, the three men were dead. Their faces were blue and bloated, foam frothed from their mouths and noses, and their eyes bugged from their skulls like some internal pressure had swelled to the bursting point. Snake sat back down, sliced into his filet, and chewed a bite with a look of approval.
“Unfortunately, my homies, the world’s only big enough for one of us, and this go round I’m gonna be running the show.” He nodded to the nearest corpse and winked. “Don’t be throwing shade, big dog. I know you’re happy for me. I’m sure Magnus would have wanted things this way.” He paused, forked another heaping portion of steak into his mouth, and smacked his lips appreciatively. “You’ll have to trust me on that.”
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Retribution
Russell Blake
Chapter 1
Houston, Texas
A pall of
inky smoke obscured the glimmer of stars in the night sky, the air toxic from oil fires that dotted the huge abandoned refinery across the ship channel from Houston. Armed guards manned outposts along a walled section that ringed the plant, a sprawling complex easily as large as a medium-sized town – a collection of buildings and tanks that occupied a two-and-a-half-mile square section of the promontory. Spotlights roved across the area outside the wall, fueled by the output from a crude oil-heated steam turbine.
It had been barely a week since Snake had announced Magnus’s untimely demise to the Crew, as well as the astounding defeat in New Mexico. He’d assured the regional chiefs that the change in leadership would result in no disruption to the Crew’s ongoing operations and domination of the surrounding states, and had vowed to proceed more prudently than Magnus to eradicate the threat posed by Shangri-La.
The loss of almost a thousand men with nothing to show for it had stunned the Crew’s upper echelon, and Snake had been quick to exploit their shock by enacting draconian new rules to crush dissent to his domination of the group: anyone questioning Snake as its head would be summarily executed, which quickly chilled any disgruntled murmurs and cemented his leadership.
The majority had gone along with Snake’s plan, but almost a third of the Houston branch had splintered off and refused to recognize Snake’s authority, believing him too unstable and weak to lead effectively. They’d seized the refinery as their territory, the strait between it and the city a natural barrier, and had recruited a growing membership of Crew fighters who were unhappy about the recent turn of events.
The faction was led by the Salazars, a trio of cousins who’d been incarcerated with Magnus and had despised Snake as he’d risen through the ranks to become one of their leader’s inner circle. The idea of a meth-addled madman running things was unacceptable, and they’d split from the main group on the second day, taken over the refinery, and raided adjacent Baytown to reinforce their stake.
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