“Why would we wanna do that and leave this place?”
“This place is a reward for the last time we caused mayhem,” Alicia reminded them. “Think of what might be next?”
“A grave,” one of the older bikers mumbled. “Or a hospital.”
Alicia nodded. “That’s possible. This is a dangerous mission. The men who took the tombs are at least military trained.”
“It would get us back on the road though,” Whipper compromised. “Some nice open roads between here and Singen.”
“You really wanna help out the government?” Tiny glared around. “Not like they ever bin good to us.”
Trace and Fat Bob murmured an agreement. Dirty Sarah put down a nail file and wiped her hands on a wet-wipe. “Lomas? What’s your take?”
The gang leader cleared his throat. “If this were personal, I’d decide. If it were honor, I’d decide. But this ain’t for gang respect or credit. This ain’t like goin’ after Lisa and makin’ her pay for what she did . . .”
As he paused, Alicia reflected that she didn’t know much about Lomas and Lisa yet, only snippets of what her boyfriend had told her about his ex and how she had split to ride with a rival gang. Maybe she was his ‘old demon’.
“This has to be your own decision,” Lomas told them. “This ain’t gang business.”
Alicia nodded, respecting him for it. Truth be told, if Lomas had ordered them all to go, she would have protested. She listened to the rumblings and the moaning, the unruffled and the perturbed. But at the end of the day, they were a biker gang and, to a member, they wanted that open road.
Knuckler summed it up. “No harm in hitting the open road for a few days, eh mates? Then we’ll see if we fancy kickin’ some military arse an’ earning a year on Miami Beach. Ha, ha,” he cackled.
Alicia winced as overwhelming support rose for Knuckler, not quite sure how she was going to translate the ‘ifs’ and ‘maybes’ back to Hayden and Drake. When the guys started to rise, she turned her head. No way did she want to see half a dozen oiled-up bikers wearing trunks climbing off their sunbeds.
CHAPTER FORTY SIX
Kinimaka watched sadly as the team made the decision to pair off. Memories of Vienna revisited him, of the night he had spent down at the bar with Alicia and Belmonte. Alicia had told him that her father used to be a drunk and beat her mother into unconsciousness at least twice a week. Belmonte had confessed that losing his protégé – Emma – had truly broken him. He would not work as a thief again for as long as he lived.
And the next day he had died saving Drake’s life.
Now Kinimaka stared through cheerless eyes as the team decided to separate, each pair heading off to fight their own little apocalypse. Dahl and Akerman would travel to Iceland. Drake and Mai would go to Moscow, retrieve the Great Sword, then return here to Babylon, faithfully following Alexander’s instructions. He would accompany Hayden to Hawaii. Their time was almost up.
“Stay in touch, and keep checking with Karin,” Hayden told them. “She’s the liaison for all our information. Gates will try to be on hand. And guys . . . let’s all return to Washington in one piece, huh?”
“The minute anyone gets a shred of information,” Dahl said. “And I’m talking mainly about you, Drake, with that last sword – let us know.”
“Course I will,” Drake said. “Once we kick Zanko’s grandma’s arse.”
“We should watch out for Zanko and Razin,” Yorgi said. “They are not done yet.”
“I feel bad about sending Alicia and her new friends after Cayman himself,” Hayden fretted. “But there was no other way. She’ll make all the difference to that assault team.”
“One thing’s for certain,” Mai said quietly. “Whether we want her to or not, she’s most likely to blow up the entire tomb.”
Everyone laughed. It was a poignant moment, not one reserved for Alicia, but one that encompassed them all. Amidst the brief silence more than simple respect, honor and concern passed between them. Something far deeper.
Kinimaka said nothing. Dahl made a point of inflating everyone’s ego. Drake walked around purposefully, finalizing plans, but Kinimaka read the uncertainty in his eyes.
This time it was different. This time they didn’t know what they were going up against or how to fight it.
We’re going into Hell without a preacher, Kinimaka thought. God help us lest we burn. And God help the rest of the world if we do.
CHAPTER FORTY SEVEN
Zak Block loved the fact that Hawaii time ran twelve hours behind his own. It almost felt as if he were travelling back in time, enabling him to usher in the new reign of the Shadow Elite that much sooner. It was an illusion, he knew, but a comforting one.
The midday Hawaiian sun beat down hard on the airport tarmac. Being a first-class passenger, he was offered a lei and dutifully bent his head, smiling at the pretty grass-skirted girl as she spoke a greeting and wished him a pleasant stay on the island of Oahu.
“Oh, there’s no doubt there’s going to be a little fun for everyone,” he said and headed over to his driver. The man lowered the card he was holding and showed him to a white sedan with blacked out windows.
So far, so good, he thought. The team had always known Block would be joining them inside the tomb and had spent many hours deliberating over the best way to get him inside. In the end it came down to a floating strategy with many alternatives. They could only predict the authorities’ responses up to a certain point. After that, it was all conjecture and chance.
Block was driven around Diamond Head, with the sparkling blue of the Pacific to his right, and off the main road. Presently they transferred to an off-road vehicle, and the driver proceeded to bounce his way down a barely used dirt track. The man apologized, but Block barely heard. He was already tired of not being the world’s decision maker, and filled his head only with visions of what he would do once he regained that power. He was a coiled snake waiting to strike and clamp his jaws on anyone who stood in his way.
They skirted three lava tubes, the first two of which were being monitored by the HPD. The third, somewhat further away, looked clear and it wouldn’t matter if it was under CCTV surveillance. They wanted to get a man in – not get many men out.
Block accepted the pack offered by the driver and took a moment to check his email. Cayman was already inside the Singen tomb and Nicolas Denney was approaching its Icelandic equivalent. A message at this point would be bad news. But there were none. He sent a quick, unnecessary text, alerting the second Hawaiian cell that he’d arrived, warning them to prepare for battle.
The trek was arduous, but worth every laborious step. Block was helped down from the high ledge and, for the first time, observed the carved stone face of Wrath.
“Spectacular, isn’t it?” The driver grinned.
Block ignored him, taking a moment for himself. After a while, he waved the man on, listening to his spiel about how the traps had been counteracted and how relatively easy it had been for a well-armed, well-motivated force to take the tomb. A little further on and they passed through Greed, the little, precious pots of riches now removed to prevent distraction and death. After that came Lust, and Block slowed despite himself, staggered and a little daunted by the extensive amount of carved and painted flesh on display.
“Those gods.” The driver whistled, staying close to Block. “They sure knew how to throw a party, am I right?”
“Please,” Block spoke just the once, expecting the man to understand. Luckily for him, he did and shut his mouth. In silence, they traversed the chamber and soon passed through Envy and Gluttony. It was after this level that the team commander waited for him.
“Sir, all is prepared.” He came forward and gave a slight bow. “If you proceed to the ledge up there—” he pointed to a curved stone wall running around the top of the next rise. “You will see all that you came for.”
Block braced himself and picked his way carefully to the wall. The sight that greeted his eyes beat
everything he had yet seen and more, it was the most awe-inspiring, incredible thing he had ever seen in his life.
Odin’s chair. The gargantuan, impossibly carved slab of obsidian hung from the cliff face before him, positioned over a bottomless abyss. An ancient silence filled the place, demanding deference, crawling and shimmering with an unseen, latent power. Only poised here, bowed by its glory, could he truly accept it.
“Now,” he said. “Now I believe.”
The team leader had walked up behind him. “I know exactly what you mean, sir. After witnessing something like this you start to believe anything’s possible.”
Block nodded, impressed with the man’s insight. “I will show the governments of the world what is possible,” he said. “Get everything ready, because after today there will be no government, no dictatorship, no insolent warlord, that will not bow down to me.”
CHAPTER FORTY EIGHT
Not long after Zak Block cleared customs, Hayden and Kinimaka heard the wheels of their private jet squeal and rumble as they hit Hawaiian asphalt. Kinimaka mumbled a little prayer when they landed, not in lieu of their safe landing, but for returning safely again to his homeland. The aircraft had passed close to Diamond Head on its final approach, giving the two SPEAR agents a brief glimpse at the ongoing operation inside the depressed cone. Hayden contacted the local agents and captains in charge whilst in flight, ensuring they would be ready for action sooner rather than later, and smoothing over the inevitable rough corners.
Kinimaka stared out the window as the jet taxied in. “Mixed feelings.” He touched the window. “Good to be back, bad to be here. Know what I mean?”
“Implicitly.”
“You think Cayman and his buddies will switch on that device?”
“If they do, we will stop them.”
“Sure. We ain’t never faced a bad guy we can’t put down.” Kinimaka, seeing they were still alone, at least for the moment, placed an arm around her, conscious not to transfer its full weight to her. “And then maybe we’ll get a break.”
Hayden turned and kissed him. “Sounds good to me. This damn job’s becoming more intense than even I imagined. Good job we have Romero and Smyth on board now. We may even tie down a bit of vacation time.”
“They say Hawaii’s good this time of year.”
“Really?” Hayden squeezed his knee. “I never would have guessed. You don’t want to see Kono? We could spend a few days in LA.”
“Hold that thought.” Kinimaka clicked his tongue. “My sister and I should have at least one thousand miles of air between us when holding a discussion. Especially one where she tells me her plan to come see Mom again.”
“She ran away,” Hayden remembered. “It was a long time ago, Mano. She’ll have changed.”
“She broke Mom’s heart and didn’t care. I remember. We didn’t know . . . anything.”
At that moment, the co-pilot popped his head around the cabin door. “Hey folks, you’re clear to disembark. Usual fast track checks in the terminal, then a car will be waiting to take you to the base.”
Hayden surprised Kinimaka by kissing him once more. “Don’t worry,” she said, even more stunning up close. “It will work itself out.”
She rose, grabbed her pack and strode down the aisle. Kinimaka hurried after her, a little bedazzled, then realized he’d forgotten his own pack and had to run back. They clattered down the juddering airplane steps and entered the terminal, greeted by a blast of cool air.
Kinimaka cast around, saw the relevant booth and headed straight for the stern-looking man seated inside. Once they had presented their papers, the two were ushered straight through to the central concourse, the inner hub of Honolulu International. Kinimaka stopped to view the high-ceilinged, wide, airy space, basking in the sunlight that streamed in through the windows.
“Ahh,” he said. “I’m relaxed already.”
Shops stood to either side as the pair made their way toward the exit. A DFS Galleria and a Kona Brewing Company, the latter offering one of his favorite brews – the legendary Fire Rock Pale Ale – the sight so appealing he actually began to drift in that direction.
Hayden turned to him and spoke with a hint of warning. “Mano—”
Masked men burst through the doors in front of her. The car they had all piled out of idled at the curb in the public drop-off area, doors flung wide. Kinimaka counted five men before he yelled a warning and tackled Hayden around the waist, dragging her behind an artful display of Maui Divers jewelry exhibits. The leader of SPEAR tumbled ungainly across the floor and ended ass up as the bullets started to fly.
Glass shattered around them, showering down over their bodies. Hayden yelped as a sharp piece sliced the seat of her pants.
“Fucker got me in the ass!” She unholstered her Glock and disengaged the safety, dropping as low as her body would allow. The terminal erupted with noise, screaming and yelling, and the sound of an alarm. People scattered in all directions. Children were dragged into shops or lifted and shielded by parents’ bodies before being tucked out of sight. Luggage slid and tumbled across the floor.
The masked men advanced slowly. More shots rang out and an airport security guard twisted and fell. The front window of DFS Galleria exploded into tiny shards. The sound of crying rose above the braying of the alarm.
Kinimaka took a fleeting look and fired off a shot. It went wide, but gave the invaders pause. Two dropped to their knees, covering. The other three peeled off around the side of the Duty Free. Hayden fired, her bullet hammering into a wall millimeters above her target’s head.
“What is this?” Kinimaka hissed. “Is this for us?”
“I don’t know,” Hayden said. “But it’s sure holding us up.”
More airport security guards ran along the concourse. Hayden waved them to safety, showing her badge. She turned to Kinimaka. “They’ve taken a defensive formation,” she observed. “A bit of mayhem, then digging in. I’m not liking the look of this, Mano.”
“Agreed. I’m too big to hide behind this pillar much longer anyway.”
Hayden switched her position, coming around the other side of the display cases. For half a second her enemy was in her sights. She fired and he fell, gun clattering across the polished floor. His companion didn’t flinch, but trained his gun on her, then let loose a hail of lead on full auto.
“Shit!”
Hayden literally had nowhere to go. The deadly stream started at the exhibits, destroying them, and swung slowly in her direction. She hurdled a pile of glass, but came up against the side of a shop window. The flow of bullets drifted inexorably closer.
Kinimaka fell on his stomach, gun out in front and held in both hands, firing, but the shooter was hidden from him, his body blocked by a three-foot tree planter. Men fired back at him, their shots skipping off the floor three inches to the right of his body. He rolled back to safety, opening his mouth to shout—
—then saw Hayden shoot out the bottom of the glass window. Fragments cascaded like little bits of diamond, catching the sunlight, and Hayden dived right through them, rolling into the shop as the lead river blasted past.
Kinimaka let out a sigh of relief. He heard the shooter changing mags and rose a little to take advantage, but another shot pinned him down. This was a good team, working for each other, but they couldn’t do this forever. The airport guards and cops were assembling down toward the Diamond Head concourse, quite a group. He looked toward Hayden and saw she was trying to convey a message.
Hand signals. No phones necessary. She was going through the back of the shop and aiming to take them by surprise. Kinimaka nodded and surveyed the shop to the other side. The Duty Free was open plan, different to all the other shops, and might not have a back exit. If he tried and failed he’d be stuck. Beyond that was a Starbucks.
Hmmm . . .
It was in the hands of God. Kinimaka exploded out of hiding, sprinting across the exposed area in seconds, and hurled himself forward as shots began to track him. He h
it the ground hard, rolled, and came up again, barreling past a couple who thought it prudent to crouch down in the middle of the concourse, before running into the coffee shop. An easy chair gave him the bounce he needed to lift off and clear the counter in one. A barista, kneeling behind the display cabinet, squealed, making him jump and shout back. The space behind the counter was narrow, the stockroom further on crammed with boxes, syrups and metal shelves full to bursting. He flew past, listening hard, hoping Hayden was waiting. A cascade of white plastic lids toppled off the shelves in his wake. At last. He reached the end and spied a door.
Thank you Great Kahuna, he thought. Then he paused, collected his wits and pushed.
CHAPTER FORTY NINE
Kinimaka paused as the back of his enemy came into view. The man sported a buzz cut, a padded jacket and cargo pants. He clutched a rifle, aimed low, and carried several other weapons thrust into a utility belt around his waist. He was staring at a black wristwatch as Kinimaka pushed gently at the door.
He saw Hayden step out across the other side of the concourse opposite him, separated by hundreds of yards and four well-armed killers. She pointed her gun and yelled. Kinimaka gave it a second and then did likewise, hoping to cause confusion.
But these men were trained. The one nearest Hayden lifted his gun arm calmly, taking aim. The one closest to Kinimaka turned carefully, bringing his weapon around.
“Stop!” Kinimaka cried.
The gunman suddenly swiveled hard and fired, catching the Hawaiian off guard. Chunks of green and white signage erupted from a nearby wall. Kinimaka returned fire instantly, dropping the shooter where he crouched. His body shuddered and jolted back into his partner, knocking the man’s weapon from his hand, but also making Hayden’s shot go wide. The man went for a side holster. Hayden didn’t miss the second time.
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