[James Ryker 01.0] The Red Cobra

by Rob Sinclair

  ‘The drill is much better,’ Giorgi said. ‘Less blood. Less mess. More time to talk.’

  One of the goons stepped forward, grabbed a knife from a sheath on his waistband, and slashed at the rope shackling Ryker’s wrists together. Ryker’s arms fell down by his head. No chance for relief though. The goons promptly took hold of an arm each, giving Ryker no opportunity of freeing himself despite his flailing attempts. The goon on the left forced open Ryker’s left hand and held it steady.

  ‘I’ve found this to be a very effective way of finding out what we need to know,’ Giorgi said. ‘We start with the hands. Then the feet. Then elbows, knees. Normally by that point we have to change the drill-bit. The bones in the knees are particularly hard and troublesome. After that, though, the rest is easy.’

  Sergei pressed on the drill’s trigger again. Ryker focused on the blurring drill-bit as it came closer and closer to the palm of his hand.

  Then Sergei stopped. He held his hands steady. The tip of the blurring drill was just a quarter of an inch from Ryker’s skin. Ryker’s whole body, every single muscle, was tense, his teeth gritted. With the blood rushing around him so fast, he felt faint.

  Sergei looked over to his master, who gave the slightest of nods. Then Sergei pushed the drill forward.

  The drill-bit tore through Ryker’s hand and he let out a harrowing scream. The metal eased through and poked out the other side, blood and flesh splashing outwards. Sergei released the trigger and the drill rolled to a stop with lumps of dripping skin and flesh hanging from the end. Then he pressed the button to reverse the rotation and pulled on the trigger again, a wicked grin on his face.

  Ryker’s scream heightened further as the drill-bit began rotating back and Sergei pulled the tool away, taking more bone and tissue with it.

  When the drill was free of Ryker’s hand, the goon let go of Ryker’s arm. It flopped uselessly by his head. The pain was consuming him. In that moment, Ryker wished he was still the man who could not feel. The robot who’d worked for the JIA for so many years. That man felt no pain. He didn't even recognise the concept. But Ryker did, and the pain was too much.

  Ryker’s eyes focused on the drill that was dripping with his blood. Then on Sergei, his face smeared red. Still smiling.

  ‘Mr Ryker,’ Giorgi said. ‘Please think very hard about your answers this time, because I won’t ask these questions again. Who do you work for? And why are you here?’

  Ryker didn’t say a word. Not because he was holding out but because he was too nauseous with pain. Sergei moved across Ryker. Giorgi gave another nod and the drill started up once more. Ryker closed his eyes and clamped down his jaw so hard it felt like his teeth would shatter. He willed something to happen. He wasn’t a religious man; he’d seen too many horrors in his life to believe there was a god. Yet he was praying now. Praying for something, anything to intervene.

  And it felt like his prayer had been answered when he heard an unexpected clunking noise.

  He opened his eyes. Darkness. The lights had been switched off.

  Ryker’s arm was suddenly freed by the goon who’d been holding it. He heard surprised shouting from Sergei and the men. Movement. Footsteps.

  Even in the darkness, Ryker knew what was happening.

  The Red Cobra.

  59

  Ryker’s body jolted when he heard a gargling scream from a man. One of the goons? The noise was close, yards away, Ryker thought. Then a gunshot rang out. The flash from the muzzle brought the room into view for a split second.

  Ryker could have sworn he saw the sweeping shadow of the Red Cobra.

  Another scream. A succession of gunshots, the flashes of fire from the guns like strobe lighting.

  Panicked shouting. Footsteps. More gunshots. More flashes of light...

  Then silence and total darkness once more.

  After a few seconds, Ryker realised he was holding his breath and he slowly exhaled, straining for any noise from within the blackened room. He took a sharp inhale of breath and held it in again, feeling the beating of his heart getting faster.

  ‘Aren’t you going to thank me?’ she said after a few more moments of silence. Her voice was close by.

  Ryker said nothing.

  A second later, there was a slicing noise and Ryker’s body suddenly tumbled to the ground. He landed head first and his back twisted and compressed as the rest of him came down on top. He lay in an uncomfortable heap on the floor for a few seconds as he tried to regain his composure.

  The lights flicked back on. Ryker squinted as his eyes got used to the sudden intrusion of brightness. He jumped back when he realised he was staring into the wide-open eyes of one of the goons, a yard away from him. The guy was dead. No doubt about it.

  Ryker found the strength to get to his feet. It took a few seconds more for him to properly take his weight on his wobbling legs, and for the spinning in his head to subside.

  His whole body was on fire from the beating he’d taken. The pain in his hand was indescribable. It was taking everything Ryker had to keep his focus off it. Now that he was upright, the blood began to drain from his brain. A wave of dizziness washed through him before Ryker felt clarity and lucidity return. He spun round, looking over the room.

  The two goons were down. One had a slit neck and a huge pool of blood swept out from underneath his lifeless body, still growing by the second. The other goon had various puncture holes visible in the clothing around his chest. Each hole was seeping thick red blood onto the floor.

  But other than the two dead men there was no one else in the room. No Giorgi. No Sergei.

  No Red Cobra.

  Ryker heard shouting outside. He grimaced as he moved forward and crouched down by the goon with the shotgun. Ryker took the weapon. It was loaded. He quickly searched the body and found a handgun. That was better. He could use it easily with one hand. There was also a spare magazine and a knife. Ryker used the blade to cut a swathe of cloth from the man’s shirt which he wrapped around his injured hand. He pulled it as tight as he could. It wouldn’t help the pain but would at least limit his blood loss.

  Then he was up again, moving quickly – albeit torturously – to the exit, gun held out. Ryker stopped by the door and listened for just a second. Then he slowly pulled down on the handle and inched open the door, unsure exactly what he would be looking out onto.

  He saw the yard outside. It was still night. The spotlights that had earlier cast a bright glow onto the area were now switched off. Giorgi’s black car was there, its headlights and the dim moonlight the only illumination in the darkened space. The car’s engine was idling. The rear passenger door was open.

  Movement. Off to his right. Ryker saw three men: Sergei and another man shepherding Giorgi toward the waiting car.

  No. Ryker wasn’t letting them get away.

  But before he could spring into action, there was a flash of silver in the darkness – the Red Cobra making her attack.

  Sergei spotted her. He let go of Giorgi and shoved the boss away as the Red Cobra swept past. She slashed her blade across Giorgi’s back and the old man fell to his knees. But it wasn’t a fatal blow. Sergei’s alertness had saved him.

  The other underling tried to pick his boss back up. He couldn’t manage it on his own. Sergei took some of the weight, half-dragging Giorgi toward the car.

  There she was again. Ryker saw her more clearly this time, maybe because he’d been expecting it. But so had Sergei. As the Red Cobra’s blade arced through the air, Sergei ducked and swivelled. His left leg extended and he swiped at the Red Cobra’s feet. She tumbled to the ground and landed on her back with a thud.

  Sergei lunged for her. She swung the blade at him and caught him on the arm. Sergei didn’t even flinch. The way he moved, the determination in his eyes, his fearlessness...

  It reminded Ryker of the man he used to be. Reminded Ryker of the fight he’d had with the Red Cobra up on the cliff top all those years earlier. And seeing that look in Sergei’s eyes
... Ryker knew in that moment the Red Cobra was in serious trouble.

  Unless he came to her aid.

  The whole world before Ryker seemed to slow as thoughts raced through his head. He had the gun. He could shoot Sergei. Could shoot Giorgi too.

  Could shoot the Red Cobra.

  His orders from Winter had certainly been clear. But for some reason he wasn’t sure about that one.

  The Red Cobra was becoming desperate. Sergei pummelled her with his fists, his elbows and his forehead. The attack was brutal. In stealth mode the Red Cobra was an ace, but she was no match for Sergei’s close combat skills, his strength and raging blows. She feebly swiped at him with the knife, catching him again on the arm. It made no difference. Ryker winced as blow after blow from the Vor rained down on her.

  Soon she wasn’t moving. Still Sergei didn’t stop.

  Ryker had seen enough.

  He lifted his gun. Pulled the trigger.

  60

  A clicking sound. No shot. The damn gun jammed!

  Ryker cursed his bad luck. Perhaps blood had flooded the chamber. Maybe it was a dud. Thankfully, none of the other men heard the faint noise. Ryker was still in cover. But he knew he needed to do something.

  Giorgi shouted to Sergei. The Vor stopped the savage beating and looked down at the unmoving figure beneath him. He smiled, his chest heaving in and out from exertion.

  Giorgi said something else to Sergei in his native tongue. Sergei nodded and got to his feet. He grabbed the Red Cobra by her ankles and dragged her along the dirt, back toward where Ryker was standing.

  Ryker had no doubt about Giorgi’s intention. The Red Cobra had killed his son. He wanted to kill her – but more than that he wanted to punish her. Much like he’d punished poor Kim Walker, whoever the hell she really was.

  Whatever the Red Cobra’s crimes, whatever Ryker’s orders had been from Winter to kill her on sight, he wasn’t about to let a man like Giorgi get his sadistic way.

  Ryker slung open the door. It flew wide open and smacked against the side of the building. He burst forward, his battered body running on nothing more than adrenaline.

  The noise and sudden movement caught the attention of all three of the men in front of him. But they were all too slow to react. Sergei – hunched down and pulling the Red Cobra, when Ryker threw open the door – had no time to defend himself, and Ryker slammed a knee into the Vor’s jaw as he sped past. Sergei’s head snapped back and he crumpled, out cold. He wasn’t done for good, but Ryker knew he’d bought himself at least a few seconds.

  Ryker bent down and grabbed the Red Cobra’s knife from the ground, just as Giorgi’s guard was pulling a gun toward Ryker’s head.

  He never got the chance to fire.

  Ryker spun around full circle and the blade cut through the flesh on the man’s neck like it was a sheet of paper. The single strike from the razor sharp blade damn near took the man’s head clean off. Blood hissed and sprayed from the wound as the man keeled over.

  Giorgi was stepping back, a bemused look on his withered face. For all his bravado and confidence and devilishness, he was just an old man. His speed of thought, his bodily reactions, were too slow. He let out a pathetic groan as Ryker, still moving in a fluid motion, plunged the tip of the knife into Giorgi’s chest.

  The mob boss gulped and stared into Ryker’s eyes. Ryker stared right back. He pushed the knife further. Pushed as hard as he could. The blade sunk through inches of flesh and Giorgi gargled.

  Was he trying to speak? Ryker didn’t care. He twisted the blade. Giorgi grimaced and moaned.

  Ryker heard a shout from behind him.

  ‘No!’

  It was the Red Cobra. Surprise washed over Ryker. But then he realised what her cry meant.

  She’d wanted to kill Giorgi herself.

  Too late.

  Ryker thrust his hand upward. The blade tore through Giorgi’s chest. His eyes opened so wide they looked like they might pop. Giorgi crumpled as Ryker pulled out the knife. The mob boss’s limp body slid off the end of the blade.

  The old man was dead before he hit the dirt.

  Ryker didn’t hesitate for a second. He spun round again and came eye to eye with the Red Cobra. She was on her feet. Her face streamed blood, much like Ryker’s. The two of them together were battered and bruised almost beyond recognition. But both were still in the fight, running on adrenaline and pure survival instinct.

  ‘You killed him,’ she spat. Her voice bubbled from the blood in her mouth, her words mumbled because of the bruising that was already covering her face. ‘He was mine.’

  ‘I saved you.’

  ‘I didn’t need saving.’

  Movement from behind the Red Cobra. Sergei.

  Ryker hadn't forgotten the Vor was still in the fight. Sergei sprung upright and lurched for the Red Cobra. Ryker threw back his arm and hurled the knife. It somersaulted through the air. The Red Cobra pulled her head to one side – just an inch – as the knife hurtled past.

  Sergei wasn’t quick enough. Or maybe he was too focused on his target. He was almost within reach of the Red Cobra when the tip of the blade made contact. There was a thudding noise as the fast-moving object sunk into his eye. The momentum of his body carried him forward. The Vor went down in a heap on the ground, right by the Red Cobra’s feet, the knife wedged deep in his face.

  He wouldn’t be getting up again this time, that was for sure.

  ‘You don’t need my help?’ Ryker said. ‘You sure about that?’

  Ryker stayed put as the Red Cobra – eyes not once leaving Ryker’s gaze – kneeled down and pulled the knife from Sergei’s head. There was a squelching sound as she tugged the metal free. A thick mess of blood, brain, and intraocular fluid seeped out of the hole. The Red Cobra straightened up.

  ‘So what now?’ Ryker said.

  ‘You want to kill me, don't you?’

  Ryker couldn’t be sure whether or not she was posing a challenge. Winter’s words once again rushed through his head. The JIA commander certainly wanted the Red Cobra dead.

  ‘I heard you talking. To Giorgi. In there,’ she said, indicating over her shoulder.

  ‘You were watching?’

  ‘Until I saw the right moment to save you, yes.’

  ‘The right moment?’ Ryker held up his bandaged hand. ‘Perhaps that could have been before they got the bloody drill.’

  The Red Cobra just about managed to laugh. ‘Sorry about that... But I don’t think you’ve yet thanked me.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘So you don’t want to kill me now?’

  ‘I will if I have to.’

  ‘You don’t have to. I don’t want to hurt you, Carl.’

  ‘I’m not Carl. Carl Logan is dead.’

  ‘So I heard. Yet here you are.’

  ‘Looking for you, Anna.’

  ‘Didn’t you hear? Anna Abayev is dead too.’

  ‘Except she isn’t. She’s standing right in front of me.’

  ‘No,’ the Red Cobra said. ‘Anna really is dead.’

  Ryker’s mind whirred. ‘But you’re–’

  ‘Catalina. Anna’s sister.’

  ‘But you are–’

  ‘The Red Cobra. Yes. I’ve always been her. The Red Cobra was never Anna.’

  Ryker’s head was now a confused mess but as the Red Cobra continued, the final pieces of the jigsaw fell quickly into place.

  ‘I was three years older than Anna. When she was sent to Winter’s retreat, I stayed with my father, to watch and learn from him. I was so much more like him than Anna. I always had been. Anna was... different. So sweet, innocent and naive. He had to find a way to break through to her. To show her the path to take.’

  ‘Anna killed your father?’

  ‘Yes. She did. After killing those people at Winter’s retreat–’

  ‘Giorgi’s son.’

  ‘Alex Meskhi. Then she tracked down me and my father to Romania and she killed him too. He deserved it. No, more than tha
t. He wanted it.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because it was time for us to take over his work.’

  ‘But everyone believed Anna to be you – the Red Cobra.’

  ‘There was nothing I could do about that. The murders at Winter’s Retreat were well known. Everyone knew it was Anna. Her time there had changed her, but not in the way our father expected. She never wanted to become like us. She just wanted a new life.’

  ‘So she became Kim Walker, and you became the Red Cobra.’

  ‘Yes,’ the Red Cobra said. Ryker could see the pain in her eyes.

  But he didn’t dwell on the revelation. Ryker had spotted his chance to take her down for good. The Red Cobra, Catalina, was too busy thinking, talking. She’d let her guard down, for a split second.

  Ryker lunged forward. She moved back into a defensive crouch, ready to counter. Ryker saw it coming. He swivelled, avoiding her arcing blade, and tumbled into her. They plummeted to the ground.

  Ryker’s good hand gripped the Red Cobra’s wrist, keeping her knife at bay. He reached out with his injured hand and flinched in agony as he grabbed her other wrist, pinning her down. A shot of pain coursed through his whole body, making him feel faint.

  The position Ryker found himself in was reminiscent of the one he’d been in on that cliff top in Germany. Of the position Sergei had been in moments earlier too. But Ryker was battered, injured. He simply didn’t have it in him to control the Red Cobra like he wanted.

  And he knew she knew it.

  Catalina sprung her counter-attack. In an instant she’d released herself from Ryker’s weak grip and slid out from underneath. They spun round and she was on top, the tip of her knife just an inch from Ryker’s one open eye. He tensed and strained and held firm with his good hand as best he could.

  ‘It’s over, Catalina!’ Ryker said through gritted teeth as he fought to keep the knife from penetrating his head.

  ‘No! I told you before. They all have to die.’

  ‘Eva? Patrick? Why? What did they do to you?’