Kingsman: The Golden Circle

by Tim Waggoner

  Eggsy’s stomach catapulted up into his throat as the car became a giant pendulum and began to swing downward. With the centrifugal force diminished, the remaining vial of antidote fell toward the floor. But Eggsy was no longer pinned to the wall, and he dropped to the floor in time for his hand to shoot out and catch the vial before it shattered. His relief was short-lived, however, for the car swung downward in a wide arc and hit snow-covered ground. It detached from the remains of the cable, and began sliding down the slope. As soon as he’d been able to move, Jack had deactivated the lasso’s electric energy setting—which kept them both from being sliced and diced—but the impact of striking the snow knocked them both off their feet, and the vial flew once more from Eggsy’s hands.

  For fuck’s sake! He tried to grab hold of the vial again, but he was sliding around the car, as was the vial, and it continued to elude his grasp. It didn’t help that their skis and ski poles were bouncing around the car’s interior as well. But then the vial went flying through the air past Eggsy’s face. His hand flashed outward and he caught hold of it once more.

  Yes!

  The car picked up speed as it careened downhill, and Eggsy and Jack managed to brace themselves and get a good look through a window at where they were headed. Neither of them liked what they saw. The car was sliding straight toward a building where a number of people—old folks, it looked like—sat outside, watching. Some kind of retirement home? Eggsy wondered. Whatever it was there was nothing they could do now but hold tight and hope for the best. The car slammed into a signal tower of some kind, bounced off, slid some more, struck a tree, and finally came to a stop less than a dozen yards from the building. Many of the old people looked terrified, but a number clapped, as if they’d just witnessed a particularly impressive magic trick.

  For several moments Eggsy and Jack sat in the cable car—windows smashed, ceiling half gone, walls bent inward—stunned to still be alive. Eggsy glanced at his hand to reassure himself he still had hold of the vial and it was intact. He did and it was. He started to let out a relieved breath, but then he detected a rumbling sound, quiet at first, but quickly growing louder.

  The two spies looked behind them, and through one of the cable car’s broken windows they saw a white tank hurtling down the mountainside toward them, tracks churning snow, the machine sliding back and forth as it plunged recklessly onward.

  Jack and Eggsy glanced at each other for a second with the same thought in mind: Who the hell has a snow tank?

  The tank’s turret swiveled to bring its barrel into position, and a blast of flame erupted from the muzzle, sending a high-explosive round soaring toward them. The tank was too far away for the crew to get a good shot, and the round missed the cable car by a wide margin. It did, however, manage to obliterate several innocent trees. As fast as the tank was moving, Eggsy knew it would be in range quickly, and if he and Jack didn’t get out of here ASA fucking P, they were dead—and so were millions of people around the world infected with Poppy’s deadly virus.

  Jack grabbed his skis and poles, scrambled through one of the car’s broken windows, and began to put his skis on with swift, deft motions. Eggsy followed after Jack, but he didn’t bring his skis, and he merely stood and watched.

  “Get your skis on!” Jack shouted.

  Eggsy’s face burned with embarrassment. “I… can’t ski.”

  “You… you’re fucking kidding? What kind of agent can’t ski?”

  Eggsy shrugged. “The kind whose only childhood holiday was to a caravan park in Skegness?”

  Jack got to his feet, a ski pole in each hand. The two men glanced backward and saw the tank bearing down on them. It would overrun their position within seconds.

  “All right,” Jack said, “here’s what we’re gonna do.”

  Chapter Nine

  Jack slalomed between trees in an effort to put some cover between them and the tank, but it was fruitless. The tank simply mowed down the trees and made its own path as it charged onward, unimpeded, closing the distance between them with every passing second.

  Eggsy had been telling the truth; he couldn’t ski. He could, however, hold onto Jack as he skied, and he did so now, clinging to the American agent like a small child. I hope to god Harry never finds out about this, he thought. He’d never live it down—provided he lived at all, of course. His current position might be somewhat lacking in dignity, but it had one advantage: he could look over Jack’s shoulder and tell him what their pursuers were doing.

  Jack was only using one pole to help him ski. That, plus Eggsy’s added weight, slowed them down and made it more difficult for Jack to maneuver. Jack had insisted Eggsy keep hold of the second pole, which he was doing. The tank turret swiveled again, bringing its barrel to bear on them. The machine was so close now it was practically on top of them, and it would be a race to see how they died: blown to charred bits by an explosion, or ground into crimson paste beneath its tracks.

  “Left! Go left!” Eggsy shouted.

  Jack veered just as the tank fired another round. The sound of the blast echoed through the forest, and the round shot past them. Trees exploded in a ball of flame and smoke, and broken branches and splintered wood rained down around them.

  The tank swerved and got them in its sights once more.

  “Right!” Eggsy shouted.

  Another shot, another miss, more trees blown to hell.

  Eggsy and Jack reached an open space, and now that there weren’t any trees in the way, Eggsy raised his ski pole, braced it on Jack’s shoulder—the sharp end pointing toward the tank—and flicked a button on the shaft. A gunsight popped up, and Eggsy peered through it. He took a second to aim, then flicked the button again. The point of the shaft blasted outward, and a miniature missile streaked toward the tank’s barrel. It slid into the muzzle as if slathered in lubricant, and an instant later, the barrel exploded in a spectacular blast. As devastating as the impact appeared, a missile that size could only do so much damage. The barrel now looked something like the blackened, curled strip that formed the remnants of a villain’s guns that had exploded in his face in old cartoons. But the tank’s engine and its tracks were still fully operational. The vehicle’s driver gunned the engine, and the tank jumped forward. With no other weapons left to them, the crew was going to try to run them down.

  Eggsy shouted for Jack to go faster, and immediately ate his words. They were heading straight for a ravine.

  “What are you doing?” Eggsy shouted, but Jack didn’t answer.

  They shot over the edge of the ravine, and Eggsy cried out in fear. If he had to choose between falling to his death and being flattened by a tank, he’d take the tank. At least it would be over faster.

  Jack let his pole drop and then yanked a toggle on his ski suit. With a loud rushing sound, a parachute deployed from the back of the suit, caught the air, and snapped all the way open. Eggsy instantly noticed the design; the two of them hung beneath an enormous Stars and Stripes. Their descent immediately slowed, and Jack let out a cowboy whoop.

  “America!” he shouted. “Fuck yeah!”

  Eggsy, holding onto Jack even tighter than before, watched over the man’s shoulder as the tank reached the edge of the ravine, flew off the cliff, and dropped like a stone. When the vehicle hit the ground, the crash was spectacular.

  Eggsy contacted Harry over his eyeglasses’ comm.

  “On our way down, Harry,” he said.

  Harry’s image appeared.

  “Roger that. I’ve got you on GPS.”

  “Meet us there.”

  Harry nodded and his image faded.

  “You always this happy after you just pulled off mission impossible?” Jack said.

  “Nah. This just… reminds me of a jump I made with someone else. Roxy. Kingsman agent, good friend.” He paused, and then added, “Charlie killed her.”

  Jack took a moment before responding. “And now you’re one step ahead of him. Your time will come, trust me.”

  It can’t
come soon enough, Eggsy thought.

  * * *

  They descended toward a wooden mountaineering hut recessed in the side of the mountain’s face. They glided to a landing near the hut, and Eggsy was finally able to let go of Jack. While the American agent gathered his chute, Eggsy opened the hut’s door and peered in.

  “No one here,” he called out to Jack. “Let’s wait inside.”

  Once they were both in the hut, and Eggsy had bolted the door, Jack quickly got a fire going in the grate. As Eggsy warmed himself, he removed the antidote vial from his pocket and marveled at it.

  “So weird to think this little thing could save the world,” he said.

  Jack reached out his hand. “Let me see that?”

  He was about to hand the vial to Jack when there was a knock at the door.

  “It’s me!” Harry said. “Open up!”

  Eggsy stood, unbolted the door, and opened it.

  Harry, overnight bag in hand, broke into an excited grin when he saw Eggsy holding the vial.

  “You got the antidote,” he said, pleased. He stepped inside, closed the door behind him, and deposited his overnight bag on the floor.

  Before Eggsy could respond, the hut was peppered with gunfire. The windows shattered, and Jack shouted, “Get down!”

  Harry ducked his head and crossed his hands over his chest. A Kingsman suit was bulletproof, so he only needed to protect his exposed areas. Unfortunately, neither Eggsy nor Jack’s ski suits could repel gunfire. Jack leaped toward Eggsy and threw himself on the younger agent, protecting him with his own body. The pair lay on the floor, while Harry remained standing in the doorway, acting as a shield. Eggsy had a horrible sinking feeling in his gut. He looked at his clenched fist, opened it, and saw the vial had shattered when Jack shoved him to the ground. Some of the shards had cut him, but he didn’t care about that. He was too upset by the sight of the antidote dripping from his palm onto the floor.

  “Shit,” Jack said.

  “You dickhead!” Eggsy roared.

  “Fuck you!” Jack shouted back. “I just saved your life!”

  “And cost millions of people theirs!” Eggsy countered.

  Just then another volley of bullets hit the cabin, tearing through the wood and turning it into Swiss cheese. Harry was still okay thanks to his suit, but Eggsy and Jack wouldn’t last long once the cabin disintegrated around them and the Golden Circle soldiers had clear shots.

  Jack crawled toward one of the windows, and rose up just high enough to peer out.

  “Only eight. We can take ’em.” He looked at Eggsy and smiled grimly. “Let’s get us some payback for your friend.”

  Jack stood, drew both his gun and his lasso handle, opened the bullet-ridden door, and rushed outside.

  “Cover me, boys!” he shouted.

  Eggsy was still furious over the vial breaking, but he didn’t have time to be angry now. He unzipped his ski suit, reached inside, drew his Kingsman pistol, and fired two rounds through the open window. He started toward the doorway, intending to go outside and help Jack, but Harry grabbed hold of him. Shocked by his mentor’s behavior, Eggsy tried to pull away, but Harry held onto him.

  “Eggsy, wait!” Harry said. “I think Whiskey broke the vial on purpose.” He paused, and then added in a softer voice, “He could be working for the other side.”

  Eggsy couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “The fuck is wrong with you? You’re having a brain fart! Does that look to you like he’s working with them?”

  He pointed outside.

  Eight guards dressed in snow-camouflage outfits stood in a semicircle in front of Jack, submachines raised and ready to fire. But Jack wasn’t going to give them the chance. He activated his lasso’s electricity, and using it as a whip, he flicked it toward one of the guards. It struck the guard’s cap dead center in the middle of the Golden Circle logo and bored a hole through his skull, burned through his brain, and then out the other side. The man’s body jerked as he fell, and the top of his head split in two as he descended past the line of the energy beam. There was no blood. The heat from the electrified lasso cauterized wounds even as it made them.

  Jack didn’t watch the man fall. He aimed his gun at another guard and shot her through the circle logo on her cap as well. This time there was blood. It painted the snow behind her crimson, and then she fell backward, dead in an instant.

  He’s using the logos as targets, Eggsy thought. How badass is that?

  Jack swiped his lasso toward another guard, this time aiming for the man’s knees. The rope sliced through the man’s legs as if they were no more substantial than air, and as he started to fall, Jack shot him through the head as well. He was dead before he hit the snow. The next three went down fast, each shot in the head in rapid succession. Jack swept his lasso down upon the seventh guard’s head, slicing him neatly in two. As each cauterized half fell, the crackling electric aura flickered and vanished. The weapon was out of power.

  The eighth guard had up to this moment been stunned by the rapid deaths of his companions. But when he realized he was the last man standing, he gathered his wits and aimed his submachine at Jack. Jack raised his gun at the man, but when he squeezed the trigger, the barrel clicked empty. He was out of ammo.

  The guard grinned, thinking Jack was a dead man. But Jack threw his gun at the man and ran toward him. The gun tumbled through the air and the butt of the weapon hit the man in the head right on his cap’s logo. The guard staggered under the blow but didn’t fall. But he was distracted long enough for Jack to reach him, grab hold of his head and give it a savage twist. The man’s neck broke with sickening crack! and he slumped lifelessly to the ground, a puppet whose strings had been cut.

  Jack was barely breathing hard.

  Eggsy, furious, finally managed to pull away from Harry.

  “Lucky for you he didn’t need our help,” Eggsy said.

  But he’d spoken too soon. A troop carrier rumbled up to the hut and disgorged more guards, twenty in all, and they were armed with what looked for all the world like mini Gatling guns.

  “Shit!” Jack shouted. He ran back inside and bolted the door shut. “There’s a fuck ton of ’em!” He looked at Harry and Eggsy. “How about some backup, boys? I’m out of ammo. What you got?”

  Harry drew his pistol. He started to say something, but then a distant look came into his eye and he froze, as if he was uncertain what to do next. As before, his eye moved back and forth, and Eggsy knew he was seeing butterflies again.

  Jack frowned. “Hey, you don’t look like Ginger fixed you right.”

  Eggsy didn’t have time to worry about Harry, and, anyway, right then he was too mad at him to care. He stepped to the window, pistol raised, as the new squad of guards attacked, the rounds from their mini-Gatlings raining hell on the cabin. Eggsy fired, ducked, then rose to fire again. Behind him, he heard Jack shout at Harry.

  “I said I’m empty! Give me yours!”

  Eggsy turned to see Jack try to pull Harry’s pistol from his hand. Harry snapped back to reality, and resisted, refusing to let the American agent take his weapon. As they struggled, Harry’s weapon suddenly discharged, and Jack went down, a bullet in his head.

  The guards continued firing, but Eggsy was barely aware of them.

  “Harry!” he shouted, unable to bring himself to believe what he’d just witnessed. “No! What—”

  “He broke the vial on purpose,” Harry said, sounding sure of himself now. “He knew I saw him.”

  “Fuck. Fuck! What’s wrong with you?”

  Harry answered coolly. “If we made it out of here, he was going to kill us both.”

  The sound of the guards’ gunfire registered on Eggsy’s consciousness once more.

  “Yeah? Looks like he didn’t have to.”

  Harry smiled. “Ye of little faith.”

  He walked to his overnight bag, set his gun aside, and calmly rifled through the bag’s contents. He removed the bottle of Kingsman aftershave that Merlin had
given him, twisted the top and hurled the bottle through the broken window. There was a flash of blue light, a loud fizzing sound, and the gunfire ceased. Quiet descended on the cabin, the absence of noise a shock after the guards’ near-deafening assault.

  Eggsy peered through the window and saw the guards were encased in a thick layer of strange blue foam. None of them moved, none of them so much as breathed. One threat, well and truly neutralized.

  Now that they were—for the moment at least—safe, Eggsy ran to Jack’s side. He removed the man’s cowboy hat and reached inside for the alpha gel sheet. He wrapped it around Jack’s head, remembering Ginger saying how important it was for the gel to be applied as soon as possible after being wounded.

  Harry watched Eggsy work. He made no comment, but he didn’t try to interfere, either.

  When Eggsy was finished tending to Jack, Harry said, “We need to go dark. We don’t know who else at Statesman could be working against us.”

  Eggsy struggled to stay calm as he looked Harry in the eye.

  “This is my fault,” Eggsy said. “You weren’t ready for the field, and I pushed you into it.”

  “He showed his hand,” Harry said, insistent. “You think he’d have let us live? You should be thanking me for saving our arses.”

  Eggsy didn’t reply. He tapped the side of his glasses to activate the comms function.

  “Merlin,” he said. “Can you hear me? Jack’s down. He got…” He glanced at Harry. “Caught in crossfire,” he finished. “We’ll get him home. First, I’ve gotta figure out how to get back up to the lab for another sample.” He tapped his glasses to break the link to Merlin, and then looked at Harry. “Stay here.”

  He opened the bullet-riddled door and stepped outside. He had no idea how he was going to be able to sneak back inside the laboratory, but he had to try. Too many lives depended—