"What took you so long?" Chaya asked as they came into view. They were sitting on the floor of a low alcove. A teal and yellow braided rope was tied around a jutting stone. It ran across the floor and down a round, black hole dominating the center of the room.
"Seeing the sights," Allan said.
Stooping into the alcove, Gerhard peered down the open hole. A bright orange glow stick burned at the bottom ten meters below.
Allan peeled off his pack and sat. "We trust that?" He gestured to the rope.
Malcolm sipped at the drinking tube. "Feels solid. Only one way to know for certain. You all rest for a minute. We'll take it first."
Gerhard sat, his back against the wall, as Malcolm adorned a padded harness. Once cinched in, he looped the rope through a ring shaped like an 8 and clipped it onto the harness. Gerhard watched intently. They'd only given him an afternoon rappelling practice. It was simple enough, but down here he felt as though he was watching it for the first time.
Malcolm tugged the line. "Ready."
Max drew his sword and crawled down the shaft like a spider. "Clear," he radioed once he was at the bottom.
Clutching the rope, Malcolm backed to the edge and slowly lowered over the side. Once down, Chaya pulled the line back up, the empty harness attached to the end, and she put it on. After her came Orlovski.
"You're up…or down, I suppose," Allan said once Orlovski had made the bottom.
Gerhard's knees protested as he rolled to his feet, wishing he'd had more time to rest. He drew the rope up, the harness clips jangling at the end. Once he'd strapped and cinched the awkward harness around his thighs and waist, he clipped the ring onto the front of his belt and locked it in.
"On belay," he said.
Allan tapped his ear. "Say that again."
"On belay," Gerhard repeated, a little louder this time.
Allan's lip curled into a frown.
Before he could say anything, Malcolm called up from below. "Radios down?"
"Down," Allan hollered back. "What do we do?"
"We need to check them. Make sure the girls are okay."
Allan shook his head. "If we wait for you all to climb back out, then go to the entrance, we won't have time to come back and get to what's down there. We'll lose a day."
"We can't leave Sam and Victoria cut off."
"I agree with that. Gerhard and I can check them. You four can keep going and we'll catch up."
"I can come up," Max called. "It's no problem for me."
"No," Allan said. "You stay with them if they need you. It's just a straight shot back."
"Are you sure?" Malcolm asked.
"It's fine. You set up a repeater down there. We still have one, so we'll go back, switch with whichever one is causing the issue, and catch up. Easy peasy, no time lost."
Gerhard waited, trying to make out the voices as everyone discussed below. He wanted to go down, blood a demon. Not run back and forth fixing bad equipment.
"Fine," Malcolm called. "Leave us the harness. Once you have it fixed we'll meet up."
Chewing his lip to hide his disappointment, Gerhard began unbuckling himself. It wasn't that he didn't understand why they needed to go back. He supported the idea. He just wished he'd volunteered to go down the hole before Orlovski.
"Let's go," Allan said once Gerhard had lowered the rope and harness back down. "No rest for the wicked, eh?"
Gerhard drew Umatri and they headed down the passage, keeping at a brisk pace. The tunnel that Malcolm's team had taken to the well was significantly shorter than the one Gerhard had, but the maze-work of side tunnels and branches required Allan to regularly stop and consult the map on his tablet. Even with those delays they made it back to where they'd split up in little time. The repeater Malcolm had already replaced rested on the floor.
Allan knelt before the gray box and flipped the switch. "Testing. Testing."
The radio was still silent.
"Figured that one wasn't it." Allan flipped the repeater back on and they headed further up the tunnels from where they'd come. They passed the creepy mime relief and the rooms they'd previously checked. Gerhard's eyes regularly moved to Umatri, but the blade was motionless.
The sloped tunnels felt steeper than they had when they'd travelled down them instead of up. Gerhard had to hurry to keep up with Allan's pace.
The next repeater sat atop a large flat stone resembling an ancient altar. The ring of spent candles around it only added to the look. Again, Allan clicked it on and off, fidgeted with the unrolled antenna coil and shook his head.
They continued on, finding the third repeater in a long hallway.
"Only one left," Allan said after completing the test.
Gerhard tightened his lips in frustration. At this pace the others might have the lower level cleared by the time they made it back. The tension in Allan's jaw told him that the Englishman felt the same way so he chose not to voice his anger. A knight shouldn't complain.
Without a word, they trudged up the long passageway until eventually reaching the wedge-shaped supply room with the painted shadow men sitting along one wall.
"This has to be it," Allan grumbled as he pulled the box out from its niche. He flipped the switch. "Testing. Testing."
Nothing.
"Oh you are kidding me." He flipped the switch on and off several times. "Piece of shit. Work, damn you."
As if it could hear him, the radio suddenly came to life in Gerhard's ear, catching the last word of Allan's frustration.
"Hello?" Allan asked. "Anyone hear me?"
Malcolm's voice came through in reply. "There you are."
"We're here," Sam exclaimed. "What the hell happened?"
"First repeater was out. We'll exchange it and head back. How's it going?"
"Nothing yet," Malcolm replied. "Let us know when you're getting close. Bring extra repeaters."
"Roger that." Allan turned off the buggy repeater, then took one of the spares from a locker and set it in place.
Gerhard packed the last of the extra devices into his bag and loaded the faulty one back into a trunk. Then, not having anything to do, he took a seat on the carved bench.
"About ready?" Allan asked once he was done.
Gerhard nodded. "Yes," a little more exhaustion to his voice than he'd intended.
Allan smirked. "I can tell. No." He waved Gerhard down as he started to rise. "You take a breather." He licked his dusty lips, eyes unfocused. "Sam," he said, his voice loud enough for the radio.
"Yes?" she replied.
"That camera out there that Malcolm set up, it's still there, right?"
"Yeah."
"We don't need that one out there right now, so I'm going to fetch it and bring it back down with us."
"Good idea," Malcolm said.
"Anything else?"
"Cold beer and a hot meal," Orlovski said.
Gerhard suppressed a laugh so it wouldn't clog the channel.
"I'll see what I can do," Allan said. "We'll let you know when we get closer to you."
"Roger that," Malcolm said.
Allan turned back to Gerhard. "You want to come out and get some air or are you good here?"
While stepping outside was definitely appealing, Gerhard was really enjoying this seat. Besides, re-acclimating his night vision afterwards didn't sound enticing at all. He shook his head.
"All right, you just stay there. I'll be back in a minute." He nodded to Umatri. "Keep an eye on him. Call the instant if he moves."
"I will."
Allan lowered and crawled through the wide gap exiting to the old rail tunnel. Removing his helmet, Gerhard ran his fingers through his hair, shaking out the bits of grit that had worked up inside. The ear bud itched. He considered pulling it out but decided against it.
He rested his head back against to cool stone, mind wandering as the grunts and murmurs of Malcolm's team played through his radio. He closed his ey
es. How many days of this would they endure before they found this eel? A week? Two? Would he get that first kill or was he resigned to spend the entire time in the back, Umatri serving as their radar?
The radio went silent.
Gerhard opened his eyes, glaring at the repeater. "Not again." Groaning inwardly, he sheathed Umatri, pulled on his helmet, and started to stand.
A figure stepped into the entrance on the far, narrow side of the room.
Gerhard wheeled in surprise. The red beam from his headlamp fell on a man, his narrow face obscured by a set of black goggles, its eyes an array of jutting tubes, two facing front, with angles lenses at either side.
His blond beard, one side smudged with limestone dust, opened into a half smile. He wore a pair of sturdy headphones with knobs on one ear, similar to their electronic shooting muffs at the mansion. A red laser sprang from the pistol in the man's hand as he leveled it at Gerhard's chest. "You must be Gerhard Entz." His voice was calm. American, but familiar.
Gerhard didn't answer.
"You can't call your friends." He patted a bullet-shaped radio at his waist. "So keep your hands where I can see `em."
Gerhard placed the voice. "TommyD?"
"Hands out," TommyD said, a stern edge to his tone.
Gerhard opened his hands at his sides.
"Now, with your left hand, only your left, take Umatri out and set it on the ground."
A new fear bristled and twisted in Gerhard's chest. Umatri? How did he know about Umatri?
"Do it. Slow." The laser bobbed toward the keris as he lifted the gun higher.
Careful, his eyes never leaving TommyD's, Gerhard reached across and gripped Umatri's handle. This man wasn't going to take him. No one was going to take him.
Umatri's grip flexed beneath his fingers, echoing the sentiment. Umatri wanted blood.
"Don't," TommyD spat, "think about it. Slow. Nice and slow. That's right."
Gerhard relaxed the tension from his face. He nodded slow and purposeful. Then he sprung to the side, ripping Umatri from its sheath and charged.
The gun fired, its flash a brilliant yellow. The accompanying boom was so loud it vibrated Gerhard's bones.
Baring his teeth, Gerhard lunged, elbow bent, Umatri aimed before him.
TommyD hopped back, the writhing blade missing him by centimeters. He swung the pistol up at Gerhard's face, its muzzle a silver-ringed black eye.
It flashed again, filling the world with light.
Gerhard never heard the shot.
Chapter Fifteen
Allan squeezed out from the gap and crawled to his feet beside the tracks. He squinted as he looked toward the vans, the distant gleam of sunlight so brilliant it burned into his eyes, the image remaining even after he closed them. Keeping his head down, he headed toward the exit.
The left van's door opened as he neared the gate and Victoria leaned out, smiling back at him. She was beautiful, her short blond hair poking out around the wire headset. He had to look like shit, caked in dust and dried mud.
She said something but he couldn't make it out.
He opened his mouth to respond when a pop sounded behind him. Allan turned. What was that? A second pop sent a spike of fear shooting up his spine. Gunshot!
"Gerhard?" he called, his voice chased by echoes.
Silence.
"Hello? Anyone?" Not waiting for a response, Allan ran back down the tunnel. He yanked Ibenus from her sheath, sprang, and swung, blinking a meter forward. He landed, nearly slipping on the gravel, and swung again. "Gerhard!"
Reaching the gap at the floor, Allan scrambled down, sword still in hand.
Hard stone banged his knees and shoulder as he clambered down the stepped crevice. He reached the low, wide passage at the bottom. Rolling to his side, Allan swung Ibenus, blinking forward. He swung and blinked again and again until he reached the edge.
"Stop right there!"
Still on the floor, Allan craned his neck. Gerhard lay on his back, his headlamp shining on the wall. Bits of bright plastic and bloody chunks splattered the floor, leading Allan's gaze to a jagged hole in the back of Gerhard's helmet. No!
A crimson laser beam cut through the haze of gun smoke, one end on Allan's chest, the other in shadow. "Don't move, Mister Havlock. Or is it, Sir? I've never met a knight before."
Mouth open in stunned confusion, Allan turned his head, his light finding the speaker. The man held a pistol, his eyes hidden behind night vision goggles.
"Now," the stranger said. Gerhard's killer. "You're going to set that sword on the ground and come out nice and slow."
Gerhard's shoulder holster was gone. Allan scanned for Umatri, finally seeing it tucked in the killer's black web belt. Bastard.
"Now, Allan," the man said. "Put the sword down."
"How do you know my name?"
The gun came up in reply, held in both hands. "Do it."
Fear vanished into rage. Allan swung Ibenus. A whoosh and he was standing upright. Allan lunged, swinging the sword again as the man, still aiming at the floor, fired.
The brilliant flash filled the room. Allan appeared a meter beside where he'd been but staggered as his foot landed. Searing pain shot up from his ankle and he fell against the wall.
The laser swiveled his direction. Allan tried to catch himself to move out of the way, but he only lurched to the side as another deafening boom roared. The round struck the wall, zinging. Chips of stone pelted Allan's neck. He fell backwards, yelping as he hit the floor.
Another shot. It hit Allan's vest like a hammer blow and he heard the crack of his own ribs. Ibenus fell from his stunned fingers. Ears ringing, and pain shooting from all over, Allan fought through the blackness swimming at the edge of his vision and rolled away as a fourth shot rang out.
He collided into one of the plastic lockers, stopping his roll, a jolt of pain from his injured ribs. Gasping for breath, he looked down to see the red laser dot playing across his body. "Stop," he croaked, unsure if he even made sound. "Stop." Further down, below the ruby dot, Allan now noticed that his ankle was unnaturally twisted to the side, blood pulsing from the bullet hole in his boot. A sudden heat rushed up his spine and coldness washed down. His focus zeroed in on the dark pool spreading below his foot.
"Don't fucking move!" the killer yelled, though it sounded faintly distant above the ringing in his ears.
Pulling his eyes from the crippling wound, Allan saw Ibenus resting on the dusty floor between himself and Gerhard's killer. His own killer.
"Hands where I can see them."
Allan opened his hands.
"Good boy. Now close your eyes."
"W…why?"
"Close them. I don't want to kill you."
Allan closed his eyes.
"Good. Now with your left hand, palm toward me, I want you slowly remove your pistol and toss against that far wall." His voice was calm, like a man talking to a skittish horse.
Allan winced, his ribs protesting the awkward movement, but he managed to draw the silenced gun. There was a moment's thought he could swing it up, grip it and fire, but he knew he'd be dead before he even opened his eyes. The little Walther dug into his back where he pressed against the locker. Not all was lost. Thank you, Commander Bond. Keeping his palm out, Allan wrist-tossed the HK to the side and it clattered, maybe four feet away.
"Good."
The voice was familiar and Allan realized the only person it could be: TommyD.
Footsteps moved to where Ibenus lay. Braving a peek, Allan squinted one eye as the man knelt. The red laser dot jiggled along Allan's vest.
The quad night-vision tubes looked away as TommyD reached for Ibenus' handle. Seizing the opening, Allan threw himself to the side. He grabbed for the Walther as he rolled and came up, his thumb clicking off the safety.
The laser beam darted toward him and Allan fired.
Dropping Ibenus, TommyD backpedaled, his own gun blasting plumes of f
ire. Wild shots exploded around Allan, kicking up even more dust. Allan fired twice more, missing as he scrambled backwards like a crab and hid behind the lockers. Bullets pelted the plastic boxes. One shot through while two more slammed off something inside.
Allan came around the side, firing the tiny gun. Ducking, TommyD dove through the doorway behind him and hid in the perpendicular tunnel. A silence fell over the room, Allan's panting the only sounds. Each breath felt like a barbed carving fork digging in his side.
Gulping, Allan checked his gun. He wasn't out. That was good. How many shots had he fired? Five? Six? The gun only held seven and he didn't have any spare magazines for it. He could see the HK lying in the dust a solid five feet away. It held fifteen rounds and he had two spare mags.
TommyD swung out from the opening, gun raised. Allan ducked and hunkered as three rapid shots pelted around him. Blindly, he stuck his gun out from behind his cover and returned fire. The slide locked back. Empty.
Praying that TommyD had hidden from the ineffective shots, Allan lunged toward the HK, falling more than jumping. His broken ribs screamed from the impact. Gritting his teeth, he clawed until he found the polymer grip and brought it up just as TommyD was coming out for another shot. Allan fired, sending the killer back behind cover.
Allan clicked the light under the barrel, unleashing a brilliant white beam. He held it on the door, ready for the first hint of movement as he dragged himself back to the lockers. Mud squished between his fingers. Water pooled around the tubs from where one of TommyD's bullets had evidently struck the extra water bags. It swirled with Allan's blood that was now everywhere. If he didn't do something about that he might pass out before the fight was over.
Allan's thick belt was no good for a tourniquet. He needed something else. Lifting to his knees, Allan kept the gun trained on the door with one hand with his other blindly moved along the lid. The long suppressor and the tactical light made it feel infinitely heavier than his Walther had and he had to fight to keep the barrel still. He found the clasp on one side of the box and released it with an audible thunk.
Still no movement at the door. Allan reached across his body and popped the other latch free. TommyD leaned out, the gun already raised and the laser slicing through the dusty air toward him. Allan fired. The shot pelted the wall beside TommyD's muffed ear and TommyD fell back behind cover before getting a shot off.
Ibenus (Valducan series) Page 19