by James Quinn
Chapter Five
“You got any double nought rounds?”
“Nah, none left, I'm loaded up. Take the solid shots instead.”
“I need some gaffer tape to hold down these straps. Where's the spare stuff?”
“Can you pass me that spare charge, might come in handy as a back-up.”
The talk in the back of the van was whispered, muted. It was talk Gorilla had heard hundreds of times before. The talk of men preparing themselves for battle. Not loud, not bombastic, just professionals, ensuring that they had everything in place. He sat and watched them all in the back of the van, their outlines the only things visible in the darkness as they passed bits of kit back and forth and made sure they were ready. They talked, all except for the girl, Miko. She remained silent. Her head was leaning forward and her eyes were closed, as if she was indulging in some private prayer.
They drove another few hundred feet, until they found a place to pull in, somewhere quiet and discreet. Takai, the hard-faced young Japanese driver, remained in the driver's seat while the rest of them quickly left the vehicle. The Sentinel attack team – Crane, Lang, Miko and Hodges - were all outfitted in the same manner: black overalls, dark hiking boots, fingerless mittens, black knitted cap and faces smeared with black boot polish, as was the norm for all covert action teams the world over. The only thing which separated them was the different individual weapons; the deadly duo had Remington 1100 combat shotguns, Hodges carried an old Sten gun – clunky, but still operational – and Miko of course, had her specialised weapon, the Type 97 Sniper rifle which was secured in a padded rifle bag to keep the frost and snow from it.
They stood around in a semi-circle, Gorilla, their leader, in the centre. They waited on his word. The Sentinels were once more re-united. When Gorilla did speak, he kept it short. “We can't hang around long. We all know what we have to do, our roles in all of this. I'm the Trojan horse; I'll get us past the first post. As soon as I'm in, Crane and Lang fall in behind me when I give the signal. Hodges, you lay up until we're inside and when the coast is clear, you plant those explosives. Blow those buggers if we're not out within the hour, level the place.” Finally, he turned to Miko. “Find your perch, somewhere high, concealed and with a good view of the grounds. Take down as many on the outside as you can, especially the guards. Getting us in and getting us out is the tricky part… while we're in there, feel free to eliminate anything that has a pulse! Okay?”
She nodded. She knew what was expected of her and was clear in her mind on what she would do. Then as an afterthought, as if she'd remembered at the last minute, she reached into her small rucksack and pulled out two parcels, each wrapped in a dark cloth and handed them to him. His eyes met hers, but they betrayed nothing of their love-making from the night before. That moment was long past for both of them. Now everything was purely business. He unfurled the first cloth and looked down at the contents. It was a Smith & Wesson Outdoorsman with a five-inch barrel; a large heavy revolver which fired six .38 special calibre bullets. Gorilla knew instantly that it was a man stopper. The revolver was sitting in a tan shoulder holster rig. He removed his coat and slipped on the rig, adjusting it slightly so that it didn't move about and remained snug against his body.
He unfurled the material concealing the next parcel and smiled, for there lying nestled in the thickness of the wool, was his old friend and talisman. It was the Smith & Wesson Model 39, contained in a belt holster and accompanied by three fully charged magazines. He'd last seen the '39 more than three years ago when he'd been forced to relinquish it following the operation in Europe. He had feared he would never see it again. Gorilla traced over the contours of the metal frame with his finger and he sighed. It was as if someone had returned a missing limb; he was whole, and he was complete. He loaded a magazine into the '39, racked the slide making the weapon 'live' and flicked on the safety. The other two magazines went into the leather pouch he wore on his hip. He had his primary weapon, the '39 and a backup gun; the Outdoorsman. He was ready.
“Is it what you wanted?” she asked.
She looks beautiful he thought, even with the boot polish camouflage covering her face and the dark hood covering her hair. He nodded. The '39 was exactly what he wanted. It was, without any sense of ceremony or pomp, a final gift from Sentinel.
* * *
Nestled deep in the heart of Japan's Mie Prefecture, far out on the vast empty plains and surrounded on all sides by mountains, stood Masakado Castle. It was one of the few original pagoda's remaining in Japan and dated from the sixteenth century, when it had originally been built by an enemy of the Nakata clan, Sugitani Masakado, a Shinobi of some repute.
In the late 1870's, the Raven's great-grandfather had, through nefarious means, purchased the surrounding fifty hectares and gained control of the pagoda, taking stewardship of it. The old warrior had thought it amusing to dominate what his enemies had once owned and his clan had coveted. He'd celebrated well on the night the sale had been completed. He'd then set about renovating and rebuilding it to his own specifications, painting the exterior of the structure a dense black colour and changing the pagoda to be named, ironically, the Karasu-Jo, the Raven's Castle. In the fullness of time, the deeds to the building and all the land had been passed onto his great grandson, Yoshida Nakata, the Karasu, who had continued to use it as his private domain, and training grounds for those he judged worthy enough to take on the role of assassins to his clan.
The pagoda was a magnificent spectacle. It was surrounded by a ten-foot-high stone wall which covered some five kilometres of terrain and the castle was protected on two sides by mountains. It stood ninety-six feet in height, consisted of five levels rising to a peak and was surrounded by a moat – the only way across was via a thirty-foot ornamental bridge. Adjacent to the pagoda was the castle's keep, the Tenshukaku, as well as a recently-built guard barracks which accommodated the clan's soldiers. It was a fortress. Only the Shinobi of the clan had the freedom to enter. Those who were not the Karasu's brothers never left alive and were often dismembered in the Tenshukaku.
But for this one night, the Karasu had ordered that a gaijin, an assassin, should be allowed to enter unharmed and unhindered. The Karasu's orders were clear. The assassin should be brought to him, kneel before him in the sanctuary of his pagoda and there, the Raven – Yoshida Nakata, the Oyabun – would take the head of the Gorilla.
Chapter Six
Gorilla walked up the snow-covered path towards the pagoda, his hands thrust deep into the pockets of his black winter coat. His black boots crunched gently on the newly-fallen snow. There was no subterfuge in Gorilla's approach. He walked straight, true, alone and in plain view, the glare of the full moon's light reflecting off the snow-covered landscape and buildings. He was a lone soldier, defiant against the hostile glare of the pagoda behind the fortress walls and what its grandeur held inside.
In the distance, probably no more than fifty yards away, he saw the ten-foot-high wall forming the outer perimeter to the pagoda, and at its centre stood the immense wooden gates, painted a vibrant red colour. He stood before them, looking around for a rock he could use as a knocker. He breathed slowly, closed his eyes once and banged with the rock three times on the heavy wood.
THUMP!
THUMP!
THUMP!
At first there was silence and just as he was about to strike the gate again, he heard voices from inside and the withdrawing of a huge bolt from the other side of the gate. The doors retracted slowly, giving him his first proper view of the courtyard and Masakado Castle, the Raven's pagoda. It was stunning. Beyond the gates, he could see a wide wooden bridge which traversed a water-filled moat. He also saw the two armed guards on duty. They were alert, dangerous-looking Japanese men. Gorilla kept his head down and moved forward, not making eye contact with them until they were mere feet from the gate. He felt hidden eyes from within the pagoda and the guard house, watching his every move. The guards were dressed in dark, padded jackets and h
eavy, cold weather clothing. Each was armed with an M-16 Assault rifle. The taller of the two approached him. “You are Grant?” he said, in halting English.
“I'm Gorilla,” he replied. It was said as a statement, matter of fact.
The guard looked behind Gorilla, confused. “Where is your car? Where is the driver we sent for you?”
Gorilla shrugged. “It broke down, way back on the road. I told the driver to stay with the vehicle. I walked the last part of the journey. I didn't want to be late.”
The guard nodded. “We will send a man to retrieve it. We will have to search you. There are no weapons allowed inside the Castle.”
Gorilla nodded and as the two guards approached to frisk him, he raised his arms in the universal tradition of someone about to be thoroughly searched for weapons. One guard approached him from the front and one from the side. He heard a distant CRACK and a sudden gust of wind passed by him, once, twice before the two guards suddenly dropped to the floor with a bullet in each of their heads. The angel on his shoulder, hidden somewhere on the hills surrounding the pagoda, had taken her first heads of the night. He doubted they would be her last. Gorilla turned to look back in the direction he'd come. He raised an arm and waved once, twice, then a third time. At first, there was nothing and then, emerging from the darkness just on the other sides of the wall, two shadows appeared, both tall, well-built and carrying Remington 1100 shotguns. It was the deadly duo; Crane and Lang.
“Where's Hodges?” asked Gorilla, opening his jacket and drawing the '39.
Crane jerked a gloved thumb behind him, indicating the woods along the private road. “He's holed up back there. Watching and waiting. As soon as he sees that we're inside, he'll fix the explosives to the structure of the pagoda. After that we have thirty minutes to get in and out before it blows. Until then, he stays put.”
Gorilla understood, Hodges was the dems man. Inside his backpack, he had numerous timed explosive charges, designed to sabotage the pagoda and leave no traces of deniable bodies or bio-toxins alike. The destruction of the Raven's sanctuary was to be the final parting gift from Bill Hodges and the Sentinel team.
There was a commotion over to the left and from the corner of his eye, Gorilla saw the first of several black-clothed guards emerging from the adjacent keep, about thirty feet away. Crane and Lang immediately took off running and took up defensive positions on the near side of the bridge. They opened up with the Remington's, blasting out rounds, picking at targets, firing and moving, slowing down the progression of the guards. Gorilla saw at least three guards drop to the ground. He turned and made his way at speed across the bridge, through the courtyard and to the entrance of the pagoda. The large black lacquered doors were imposing and he knew that behind them lay the distinct possibility of his death. But then again, he reasoned, it was also a distinct possibility if he stayed out here facing a small army. He turned and fired twice at the two guards who were trying to cut off his entrance to the main doors. The two Japanese dropped like sacks of rocks, tumbling down the steps and onto the earthen pathway. Gorilla turned and hit the door hard with his shoulder, expecting to encounter resistance, but was surprised when it gave way freely. Inside was shrouded in darkness.
“Lads, over here! Let's go,” he called to the two Special Forces soldiers. He could see them pepper-potting forward, firing and moving, firing and moving. He helped them as much as he could, taking a bead on any visible targets and watching as his head shots took effect.
Finally, Crane and Lang made a dash for the entrance to the pagoda. Gorilla hurried them inside, still firing and taking down guards with the '39. All three of them slammed the great doors shut and slung the mighty bolts which ran through the middle and along the top of the doors. They were, mercifully, now sealed inside and safe, at least for the moment. The bottom level of the pagoda was sparsely decorated, no floor matting and nothing to suggest any sign of furnishings. Along one wall was a row of pegs, where someone might hang a cloak or a jacket. Light was provided by meagre candlelight, which did nothing to illuminate the large floor space. The three men took a moment to check their weapons, a quick re-load for some and then they took up their positions at the bottom of the wooden staircase. There was a quick flick of the eyes to each other and then a nod of acknowledgement as Gorilla and his team walked up the steps and through the darkened doorway, weapons ready, determined to face down the overwhelming odds. They were Ronin, on their way to war.
* * *
“I will not be afraid… I will conquer my fear. I will not be afraid… I will conquer my fear.”
High on the hillside Miko had watched the scene with a sense of detached pleasure. She'd taken her first heads of the night. Good clean shots, no problem really. She knew that before the night was over she would take many more… but over and over in her head, she recited the litany which kept her strong, kept her focused and which distracted her from contemplating what she had now become: a killer.
“I will not be afraid… I will conquer my fear. I will not be afraid… I will conquer my fear.”
She peered through the scope of her rifle. The guards were standing outside the doors, making sure that Gorilla and his men wouldn't be able to escape. The team were effectively trapped inside and would either survive or perish depending on what horrors awaited them. In the distance, coming from somewhere deep within the pagoda, she heard the roar of gunfire as it silenced the screams of dying men. While she might not be able to help the rest of her team inside the pagoda, she was more than capable of clearing an escape route for them should they be able to complete their mission. She counted the amount of guards, all armed and ready, taking up positions at the pagoda's entrance. She counted fifteen, with probably another ten on standby in the adjacent guard house.
Not an impossible number to deal with, but she would have to move quickly, more quickly than she would like under normal circumstances. But if the men inside were to have any chance of escape, she would need to take as many guards down as she could. Miko settled the rifle into her shoulder, slowed her breathing, and looked through the scope as it magnified the features of the first of twenty-five dead men who were still walking – walking, but not for much longer. Her finger took up the pressure on the trigger; she had her zero and fired…
“I will not be afraid… I will conquer my fear. I will not be afraid… I will conquer my fear,” said the voice of the killer inside her head.
Chapter Seven
“Hang on,” whispered Lang. “Let me see if there's a light or a lamp.” He lowered his weapon in the darkness, searching along the wall, groping to find something that would illuminate where they were and their position.
“Andy, don't go too far… stay near… keep your weapon up,” hissed Crane in warning.
There were several more seconds of muffled movement and then they heard Lang say “Gotcha.” From the corner where they'd ascended the staircase, a faint orange glow grew as an archaic oil lamp flickered into life. There was just enough time to register a black-covered figure wielding a deadly black sword coming at Lang from the corner of the room, and then Lang's head left his body, rolling across the matted flooring before finally coming to rest against a large vase in the corner of the room. Gorilla and Crane turned and fired, and shots ripped apart the Shinobi assassin, leaving his blood smeared over the wall when he sank slowly to the floor. The oil lamp fell to the floor and once more, the room was enveloped in darkness.
“Corners!” Gorilla shouted and both men, through years of training or perhaps due to some inbred survival system, split away from each other in the darkness. They would each have their own arc of fire within the killing room and God help anyone that came within that zone. Then the shadows of death seemed to melt away from the walls, moving outwards and forwards like ghosts in the night. Gorilla was aware of at least three that he could make out, but who knew how many more were hiding in the deepest recesses of the room. He guessed that Crane would be dealing with a similar number on his side.
He brought the '39 up, punched it straight out and fired twice at where he thought the enemy was, the flash from the muzzle momentarily illuminating the room. He had just enough time to see a black figure in a mask coming straight at him, wielding some kind of sickle, and heard the cry from a second assassin as Gorilla's bullet took him in the shoulder. He pulled the trigger again and click! The '39 had jammed. No time to lose, trying to reload would be a death sentence. He was aware of the assassin, mere feet away from him, almost upon him. Gorilla ducked his body, twisted like a coil and when he was sure the assassin was within range, he punched out the inactive handgun in a boxing cross. He heard the crunch, felt it ripple along his arm, as the heavy metal of the weapon smashed teeth and bone and cartilage in the Japanese killer. He heard the man crumple to the floor, but by then Gorilla was already in motion again. He stepped to the side, smacked his left hand into the butt of the '39's magazine, heard a faint click as it seated properly and then he forcefully wracked the slide once, twice, until he was satisfied a round had entered the chamber correctly. He pointed the weapon down where the injured assassin was squatting, felt the end of the barrel touch something solid and fired. The flash confirmed he'd blown off the top of the assassin's head. Over to Gorilla's left, Crane's Remington boomed again and again as it searched in the darkness, trying to slow down the hoard of assassins heading straight at them. He knew that if they managed to get within range both he and the small Redactor would be chopped. Japanese swords had a tendency to be quite unforgiving against flesh. So he turned, dropped to one knee and then fired to his rear… not at anything specific, just at where he thought a likely attack may come from. It was like fighting in deep jungle, jumping at shadows and firing at where you thought the enemy WAS and not IS. With his back clear he stood and turned to face the front, he aimed the Remington in the darkness from the hip and fired… BOOM… he heard a yell of pain and emboldened, he fired again… this time he heard no more cries of agony… one down definitely, he guessed.