Jacko showed her moves, moonwalking from one side of the fighting pit to the other, flexing a few normally unused muscle groups and stoking the crowd to a frenzy. A third of them had already switched to her side. Radford tugged on the cage wire, concern written all over his face.
Trent shared his concern. Where was Silk? What was happening to Tomlinson? Was Monika okay? Where the hell were Doug’s—
A heavy rap beat assaulted his ears, the deep bass trying to make his insides jump in time to the music. Carnal sprung to life, grinning like he needed an exorcist and purposely making his limbs shiver to the pounding, palpitating sound. When Jacko stopped to stare, Carnal turned and sprinted right at her. Now Jacko was big, but Carnal was almost as bulky and made of one solid muscle mass, and when the two behemoths came together the impact staggered them both.
Men and women screamed, gripping the cage and shaking it wildly. Bets flooded in, rattling through Roth’s system which was displayed around the room on a number of flat-screen TVs. Roth himself only had eyes for the battle, face turned into a hard scowl as he stared through the diamond-shaped wire at the contestants below.
Carnal shook himself. Jacko had fallen to one knee, but now jumped up. Carnal led with a right, which Jacko blocked and tried to trap his arm, but she lacked the strength to hold him. Carnal danced around her, shuffling his feet and jabbing, his speed belying his size. Every third strike caught Jacko around the head, making her blink rapidly. She moved close, but Carnal sidestepped round her, eluding her reach. The man danced from side to side, at one point enticing her to lunge, then he whirled quickly into a spin kick, his flying heel catching her round the back of the neck and sending her to the floor. Jacko instantly rolled and rose, evading Carnal’s follow up stomp by a hair's breadth.
Radford gasped. Trent touched him on the shoulder. “Keep smiling, bud.”
Jacko’s head whipped to the side as Carnal connected solidly. The Pole stepped in with a body blow. Jacko staggered. The next fist caught her under the chin, a blow that might well have sent most opponents into oblivion, but Jacko only stepped back, spitting blood and teeth.
Radford shook the bars angrily. “No!”
Jacko retaliated with an elbow to the solar plexus and a spin that ended in a chokehold. She jerked back savagely on Carnal’s neck, but the Pole pushed her hard into the wall, headbutting her with the back of his head as she connected, smashing her nose and then dropping his shoulder until he took all her weight on to his back.
Then the Pole fell backwards, landing with Jacko beneath him, again headbutting her already ruined nose and bringing all his body mass to bear. Jacko screamed, hurt. The crowd sensed her pain and broke out into applause. Carnal turned round so that he sat atop Jacko, pinning her with his knees, and proceeded to pummel her ribs slowly. After three terrible strikes Trent had heard the crunch of two broken ribs.
“This can’t go on.”
He pushed away from the cage side, just as everything went crazy. First, the sound of gunfire stunned the crowd into silence. A coked-up trio pretended to get shot, attracting sniggers, and a black-suited guard barely managed to stop himself from running full-tilt into the doorjamb on his way out of the room, gun swinging. “Cops! Get out!” he shouted, before raising his weapon and letting loose a volley of bullets on full auto.
Fire was returned, the bullets making the guard dance, but the crowd didn’t fully react until the man’s blood exploded across the door in gouts of vivid red, igniting the screaming and a stampede.
Trent saw Roth melting into the crowd. He grabbed Radford’s arm and dragged him after the mob boss. Radford slowed them down by checking on Jacko’s progress, but as soon as Roth backed away Carnal also moved, running for the cage’s ladder and climbing fast. Trent saw Roth duck behind the bar.
“Dan. Hurry!”
Trent had no qualms about elbowing men in the face as he fought his way through the throng. Let them get a taste of what they wagered on, of what they craved. Let them bleed. He shoulder barged the women, clearing a path to the front of the bar.
Radford pulled up beside him. “No way.”
Two naked women crouched on top of the bar, professionally loading fully automatic Heckler and Koch VP70 pistols. Trent launched himself instantly, clearing the top of the bar and tackling one of the women, taking her over the edge and to the ground hard. Radford hit the other one. Trent disarmed his woman and threw her aside, instantly seeing their original purpose.
Behind the bar, a trapdoor stood open. The women had been prepared to cover Roth’s escape with their lives.
“Come on.”
*
Trent reached for a pistol, but one of the women scrambled her way across the floor and clawed at his leg. Drugged to the hilt, tramlines threading a path of dependence and helplessness down her arms, she caught on to the material of his trousers and pulled. Her eyes, dead, stared through him, her lips cracked, bloody and broken from being chewed night and day. Trent didn’t have the heart to hurt her, but pulled her to her feet, pinned her arms behind her back, and forced her out from behind the bar.
Pandemonium reigned in the cage room. Several men were trapped against the cage’s wire netting, their faces pushed hard against the metal edges, blood dripping. Others had descended into the pit. Trent was too far away to see Jacko, but knew help wasn’t far away when he saw a team of five men clad in Kevlar burst into the room. Guards opened fire on them. The team was good enough to take the guards down without taking civilian damage. A second team surged in after them, equally first-rate.
Trent paled when he saw their faces. Oh no, anyone but them . . .
He rushed back behind the bar, sending a hard look at Radford as the man bent his woman over at the waist. “Dan, what the hell are you doing? She’s an addict. And this sure ain’t the time.”
Radford blinked in shock. “She threw up, man. I was just helpin—”
“Come on! Roth’s in the dungeon. Hadleigh’s team are up here.”
Radford jumped as suffering an electric shock. “Fuck. You’re kidding me.”
Trent rushed for the open trapdoor and the stairs. “Wish I was.”
The staircase, a recent, rough man-made wooden construction, creaked as they hurried down. A guard, stationed at the bottom, looked up when he heard the creaking sound, alarm furrowing his face. Trent launched himself into space as the gun came to bear, dropping his own pistol and striking the man head on. Both bodies tumbled across the rough dirt floor of the dungeon.
Radford jumped too, landing with both feet planted firmly. He assessed quickly and got his bearings. The trapdoor led into the empty cell. Beyond the open door, Roth yelled at the three inebriated guards, his voice so infuriated that Radford believed the man would have shot them if he hadn’t needed them so much.
Roth.
Radford didn’t hesitate.
26
Radford dashed out of the tiny cell in the main area of the dungeon. Roth was already turning in his direction.
“Stop!” Radford held up the HK.
Roth’s visage creased a little, the ironman approximation of a smile. “I knew you three were problem.”
Radford levelled the gun at his face. “Tell your guards to open the cells.”
Roth leered. “Go fuck your mother.”
Radford fired, his shot winging its way an inch past Roth’s ear. “Last chance, boss.”
Maybe it was Radford’s confidence, or the way he held himself, but Roth’s demeanour suddenly changed. “I see now. You are military, yes?”
“Cells.”
Roth flicked a finger at his guards. “Do it.”
“Good boy.” Radford heard the struggle going on behind him but didn’t dare tear his gaze away from Roth.
*
Trent forced the guard's chin up with an elbow, shoving with all his might. His elbow dug into the man’s windpipe. Pain made him slap at the floor, rapidly blink his eyes and thump his feet. Trent kept the pressure on until the man drop
ped his gun, then picked it up and jumped back. Quickly, he scooped up his own pistol. The guard rolled to his knees, gasping for breath.
“Out.” Trent indicated the door. A fast glance up the staircase told him that no one had followed them. Yet.
He prodded the guard through the door, happy to see that Radford held Roth at gunpoint and the mob boss’s guards were unlocking all the cell doors. So far, two men and two women had ventured out, faces wary and totally confused. Other cell doors stood ajar, their occupants either too injured or too scared to emerge. Another door popped open and Silk walked out, unharmed.
Last of all they opened Monika’s cell and jumped back. The woman emerged in a fury, hair matted and hanging in clumps, arms scratched and scored, lips swollen. She stomped toward the guns as if she didn’t care.
Trent’s heart went out to her. “Monika.”
The sound of her name stopped her dead. It also caused Roth to frown. “The stripper? You came to save the stripper?”
Monika Sobieski regarded Trent as if he were an angel come to save her soul. Trent locked eyes with her. “Anna sent us.”
Silk ran over and relieved the guards of their weapons. Trent nodded at him. “Tomlinson?”
“He’s okay. In my cell.”
Trent, Silk and Radford kept their guns steady. The abducted men and women gathered round. Roth and his guards stood at the centre, biding their time, defiant, sullen and still lethal. The sound of gunfire continued above, demonstrating that Roth’s guards were still holding out.
Roth gazed about the group of abductees, eyes lidded. “I'm due a fight,” he said. “You want some payback? I'll take all of you. Now.”
Monika walked over to Trent. “Give me a gun and let me shoot him.”
Trent was tempted. “If the cavalry weren’t upstairs . . .” he let it hang.
Monika stayed close. “You say Anna sent you.” Her voice dropped an octave. “Did she mention Artur? Is he safe?”
Trent let warmth light his eyes. “He’s fine. And he misses you.”
Monika sagged against him. Trent saw Roth’s gaze flicker, but didn’t let the gun barrel waver. “Not a chan—”
Something came bouncing down the staircase. Trent didn’t dare look away, but Silk moved fast and peered into the cell.
“A woman’s body,” he gasped. “A naked woman. Shit. She’s still moving, just.”
Trent felt a tremor of unease. Then the second woman came hurtling down the stairs, this time closely followed by an enormous grunting figure.
Carnal.
The immense cage-fighter bounded down in the woman’s wake, using her as a distraction. Strange sounds came out of his mouth, almost like sharp barks, as if the number of punches he’d taken during his career had damaged his voice box or his brain.
“Shoot!” Radford cried. “Don’t hesitate!”
Silk squeezed the trigger. But the first woman, until now a groaning mess, suddenly untangled her limbs and launched herself straight at him, bare flesh slapping him hard and toppling him to the ground.
Carnal burst out of the room. Trent whirled. Roth crouched and fired from the hip, giving Radford no time to react.The bullet flew wide, opportunistic more than accurate, designed to confuse. Radford fired back, but, rattled, he also shot wide.
“Go!”
Roth’s pulverized voice galvanized the guards to rush into the fray. Radford shot one in the stomach but the other two reached him, kicked the gun away and wrestled him to the ground. Radford struggled to contain them. Roth was free for a moment, staring around the dungeon.
Trent fired point blank at Carnal. The bullet passed through the meat of his upper arm, not even eliciting a blink let alone a flinch of pain, and then eighteen stones of hard fury struck him like an armoured Humvee. Trent, glanced off, spinning away. If that freight train had run him over he didn’t fancy his chances of survival.
Radford punched a guard in the ear, wincing as fire lanced through his already broken finger. Both these guys were roaring drunk, but their boss’s fury had sobered them a little, at least giving them basic motor functions from which Radford sought to part them by striking ears and nerve clusters, eyes and windpipes as hard and as fast as he could. The first guard slithered away, comatose. The second rose again.
All the while, Radford kept half an eye on Roth. The boss of the Polish mafia hadn’t taken long to weigh his options. Attention firmly focused on one of the rear wall cells and, what Radford thought might be an escape route leading to another half-built house nearby, Roth flung off his jacket and laughed.
“So fight me,” he roared. “I stole your lives. Here’s your chance.” He smashed the closest man across the face with a fist as hard as rock. The man collapsed instantly, lights out before he hit the floor. Now three men and two women faced him.
Monika screamed, “Now!”
Radford struggled as the guard blocked his vision. Silk tried to squirm out from beneath the woman who had landed on him, but found her surprisingly strong. At first he wasn’t entirely sure she was an enemy, but when punches started to land he rolled off, grabbed the gun and smashed her across the temple.
Silk appraised the room. The prisoners surrounded Roth. The Polish fighter was laughing happily, as if enjoying a family barbecue, despite the punches raining down on him. Radford was extracting himself from under the body of the last guard, momentarily safe. Trent, on the other hand, was in serious trouble. Carnal had turned on him, weighing punches carefully. Trent blocked each one properly, shielding his head and neck and body by crouching and bringing up a folded arm, but he staggered every time and the force of the blows took their toll on Trent’s arms and wrists. Then Carnal telegraphed a move. Trent ducked under the arm, allowing the blow to land where he had just stood – with his back to the rock wall. Carnal’s fist struck hard. Blood flew. The massive shoulders flinched. Trent front-kicked the giant in the spine, sending him face first into the wall. Carnal tried to turn, but Trent was ready, this time front-kicking the fighters elbow. The action sent the broken hand smashing back into the wall. When Carnal whirled in a rage, Trent ducked under his swing range and came up with a mighty right, all the force of his rising body behind it. The blow slammed into Carnal’s ribcage, doing what a bullet couldn’t do.
It made him flinch, twist and curve down to his left. Trent rose further, letting the momentum take his feet off the floor. At the apex of his jump, he raised his elbow high and brought it crashing down into Carnal’s exposed neck. The savage fighter staggered to his knees, screeching with pain. Now his face was at the same level as Trent’s knees. Trent gripped the back of the man’s head with two hands and struck as hard as he could; first the right knee, then the left, right, left, right, left. Carnal roared, punching at Trent’s legs, but couldn’t quite seem to get his rhythm right.
“Trent.”
Adrenalin soared through Trent’s limbs, lending him power and speed and stamina.
“Trent.”
Carnal’s head rocked back and forth, blood flying like rain, teeth jagged, eyes so swollen his irises were no longer visible.
“Aaron!”
Silk’s scream cut through the battle rage. Trent stopped, almost scared to let go, but made himself step back. Carnal fell to the floor, groaning and spitting, and tried to crawl into a corner. Trent turned to Silk.
The man from the streets gawped at him admiringly.
“What?” Trent rasped. “Go help Radford.”
Silk obeyed instantly. Trent waited one more second, then released the adrenalin, letting the pain of Carnal's many blows register and the exhaustion of the fight hit him. He fell to his knees, barely managing to prevent a face-first collapse. He reached for a discarded gun. Agony speared through his arms. Trent forced his eyes open, managed to look around, and saw Oleg Roth heave up amidst a crowd of swinging arms and legs. The man’s attackers were sent flying. Monika managed to hang on to one of his tree-trunk like arms, despite being lifted off her feet. All the while, she jabbed
at him with her free hand. Another of Roth’s prisoners jumped on to his back, arms around the thick neck, trying to heave the man off his feet.
Roth was no longer laughing. He stomped on a man at his feet, breaking his leg at the knee, at the same time heaving the man around his neck overhead with one massive shrug. A scream sounded as the man struck the floor hard, spine first. Monika punched him again, but Roth caught her small hand in one outsize paw and began to squeeze ruthlessly. Until another prisoner squared up to Roth and he was forced to shove Monika away to fend off the attack.
Now Silk and Radford stepped up. Trent managed to climb to his knees and raised the gun a little. Radford aimed his pistol at Roth and told him to stand still. Roth picked up a prisoner and threw him at Radford.
Just like that, Trent thought. A prisoner.
The gun skittered away. Radford fell backwards, hitting the dirt head first. The prisoner rolled over and past him, groaning. Then Silk fired a warning shot over Roth’s head.
“Next one takes your eye out.”
Roth glowered. “Put the gun down. Face me. Prove that you're a man.”
Silk laughed. “You think that fighting proves you’re a man? You sad, pathetic, dim-witted, evil, petty dictator. You arrogant fool. There are many things people do in this world that prove their worth. Fighting innocent people is not one of them.”
Footsteps began to clatter down the steps. Silk caught Monika’s sudden frightened stare and spoke fast. “Don’t worry, it’s the good guys.” But he still stepped in front of her until he was sure.
Monika’s drifting gaze sent daggers at the polish mob boss, Roth. “Shoot this bastard. Quickly.”
Silk kept the gun steady. “He may not deserve to live, Monika, but that’s not for us to decide. Not now. Not here. The law will judge him.”
The Razor's Edge Page 17