The Council of Ten

by Jon Land

  The makeshift construction didn’t work as well as he had hoped; the fireballs were not potent enough to link up and create the wall of flame he had been expecting. Yet, several of the infernos captured someone within them. The victims’ screams punctured the night as they rolled hopelessly on the ground, catching the dirt aflame, too.

  More lights flooded the courtyard. An alarm began to shriek. Ellie tossed another grenade and then a nail bomb. There were screams and more men fell. Others with rifles and machine guns were rushing from the house now, an instinctive reaction and the worst one since it played right into their enemy’s hands. Confusion became Wayman and Ellie’s ally, the troops unable to ascertain where the attack was coming from. It was time for the tear gas. They each hurled two of their jars, the clear liquid sloshing about. All four crashed open on impact and sent the guards closest to them clawing for their eyes and throats immediately, gagging. The gas spread quickly, forcing the others to stagger away shielding their eyes and mouths.

  “Now!”

  Ellie followed him. Each had their pistols out, Ellie holding another pipe bomb in her hand with a last stored in her pocket. For his part, Wayman carried several of the homemade weapons in his inside jacket pockets, including a final container of the tear gas compound that he could only hope a quick dive to the ground would not shatter under him.

  They hurdled over the fence and rushed down the funnel that their blasts had created between the perimeter guards. Some of the guards had recovered enough to level guns at the intruders charging boldly into the light. Ellie’s and Wayman’s pistols clacked as they ran, at least half their shots being hits.

  Even though they moved quickly, they could feel the effects of the tear gas. Ellie felt a dryness in her mouth and the start of burning down her throat. Wayman’s eyes were watering heavily, obscuring his vision. As they neared the front door, each touched a lighter to a pipe bomb and lobbed it through a window. Screams followed the blasts. Smoke and flames coughed out from the shattered glass.

  The Timber Wolf reached the porch and ducked as a hail of fire bore down on him from an upstairs window. Ellie tried to return it with her pistol, but the same gunman quickly had her pinned down as well. Corbano’s men inside had reacted better than expected. The second-level windows made the most defensible positions of all and Wayman had feared their use more than anything. He crouched with Ellie in the cover of the high stairs and porch.

  “Damn,” he muttered.

  Another second-floor window showed a gun, and automatic fire cut through what was left of the windows on the first floor, seeking their position. Meanwhile, the remaining functional guards along the perimeter had regrouped and were firing from beyond the cover of trees in the yard, effectively pinning Ellie and Wayman where they were.

  “Trapped,” she muttered.

  “Handle the outside shooters,” he told her, as rifle fire coughed wood splinters over them.

  Ellie snapped another clip home. “I’ve only got one more after this.”

  “Use your last pipe bomb. Use anything! Just distract them!”

  Ellie struck her lighter to the fuse of her final pipe bomb and hurled it toward the largest congestion of fire. In the instant after it struck, the Timber Wolf was on his feet challenging the fire from the windows on both floors as he hurled a pipe bomb through the first level and a napalm jar through the second. The screams on the ground floor came first as the last of the windows were blown out. On the second floor there were only screams and the bright orange glow of a room on fire.

  The front door crashed open and two men with machine guns charged them. Their rapid spray forced Wayman into a spin that stripped him of his balance and he went down hoping the padding of his jacket would cushion his final container of tear gas.

  He struck the ground as softly as he could, Ellie gasping at the sight while she fired at the men whose machine guns were still blaring. Miraculously, the tear gas jar remained whole and Wayman added his fire to Ellie’s immediately. Both men crumbled. Wayman and Ellie sprang to their feet.

  “The door!” she shouted.

  Their only threat came now from the men firing from the cover of the trees. They’d have to chance it. The Timber Wolf lobbed his last pipe bomb and napalm jar through the open door and rushed in after them into a pool of dust, splinters, and flames.

  He had just reached the staircase, Ellie right behind and gunfire tracing them, when the pipe bomb ignited. Men scattered, diving for cover, as more deadly fragments flew everywhere. Ellie and Wayman fired at the men who moved, fired at anything that moved as the spreading flames tried to follow them up the staircase.

  Corbano had been in the master bedroom when the napalm thrown from below had set it afire. His sleeve was caught and he made it into the corridor and rolled upon the floor just before the fire reached his flesh. Although his burns were slight, the pain was intense. His white skin and hair were blackened by soot and smoke and he felt blood running down his face from a piece of glass. He had caught enough of a glimpse of the attackers outside to know the Timber Wolf was among them and that fact, along with the realization that the house itself had been penetrated, sent an uneasy combination of fear and hate surging through him.

  Corbano rushed up to the third floor where a closet held the remains of his arsenal. There had been two dozen men with him at the house. How many remained he had no way of knowing, and it didn’t matter to him.

  What mattered was that he had the perfect means to kill the invaders himself.

  At first Drew thought the explosions were products of his nightmare. Only the fact that his good eye was open and working reasonably well told him they were real.

  Confusion blurred his thoughts. Obviously a battle was taking place, but between whom? Had another force attacked the fortress? Were they somehow his unwitting allies? If so, he had to reach them, at least alert them to his presence.

  It took all his will to stir his frame from the cot and lower himself to the floor. He tried to brace with his feet, but they slipped out and he hit the wood hard. Pain surged through him in waves of anguish. He was dizzy and his head pounded. He lifted both hands to the cot and pulled himself up, trying to stand but crumbling again, this time to a sitting position.

  He slid across the cot toward the wall and leaned against it as he finally rose to his feet. He stayed there for a few seconds to catch his breath and then pulled himself along the plaster toward the door.

  He smelled smoke, then saw it sneaking under the door in thick blankets.

  The effect of the flames on the dry upholstery and carpeting was dramatic and immediate. The entire downstairs had caught fire by the time Ellie and Wayman reached the second landing. There would be no pursuit coming at them from below now.

  But there would be no escape in that direction either.

  The smoke on the second floor hallway was soupy gray, drawn from the flames rising from below. They kept their frames pressed against the hot walls as they followed them almost blindly. The concentration of guards was all below now, trapped by the flames and probably massing to consider their next move. Wayman tried each of the doors on the right side of the corridor, while Ellie tried those on the left. A quick jump inside each room with gun leveled yielded no results.

  A figure appeared at the head of the hallway, a white flash in the grayness. Both Ellie and Wayman knew it was Corbano, knew the short fat object in his hand was a Laws rocket, in effect a disposable, miniature bazooka that could blow an entire wall out. They each fired, aim confused by the smoke, and thus errant. But the Laws rocket was rising, readying for a clear shot down the corridor.

  Drew threw the door open and registered immediately the presence of the all-white man before him along with the crazy-looking gun in his hands. Instinctively, Drew lunged. The move was poorly timed and weak. But it forced Corbano off balance and he pulled the trigger while the Laws’s barrel was moving, which sent a blast high across the corridor into the farthest wall, obliterating it.

&nb
sp; Ellie and Wayman had hugged the floor for cover and fought to rise now as Corbano struck Drew hard under the chin with the Laws’s butt and ran off in the opposite direction. This time Drew never lost consciousness. He was aware, though dimly, of two figures hovering over him.

  “Drew, can you hear me?”

  The voice belonged to the Timber Wolf! He had come to rescue him! He really had! Drew tried to find him, but his vision had blurred over.

  Wayman lifted Drew to his feet and pressed him into Ellie’s grasp. “Get him out of here,” he ordered, eyes already searching the corridor in the direction the White Snake had vanished. “I’m going after Corbano.”

  The Timber Wolf took the staircase after Corbano, his heart thundering and lungs bursting for air. He reached the third floor, which was smoky from flames that would soon consume it along with the first two. The entire house was turning into an inferno.

  There was a screech of heels turning quickly against wood, and suddenly Corbano appeared at the edge of the hallway. Wayman dove and rolled as the White Snake’s automatic fire pounded the walls above him. The Timber Wolf stayed in motion, ahead of the rounds at each turn, firing single shots from his pistol in Corbano’s general direction.

  “Die, you fucker!” Corbano screamed, still shooting, coughing the smoke out of his lungs.

  Wayman stayed low, using the smoke spreading through the third floor as camouflage. Rising suddenly around a bend in the corridor, he threw his shoulder into a door and crashed through it. A hail of automatic fire greeted him from down the hallway, followed by heavy footsteps as Corbano rushed toward him.

  The White Snake came into the room with machine gun blazing, but the Timber Wolf spun out from behind the door and locked his hands upon the hot barrel. They grappled, neither giving, and the force of their struggle propelled them into a surge across the room.

  The window came up fast out of the smoke-filled darkness. Together they crashed through it and rolled toward the edge of the roof.

  Ellie had led Drew the other way on the third floor, down another hallway where the smoke was equally thick. She knew a house of this size would have a second stairway somewhere that might permit them escape to the outside, but how to find it?

  It was more a question of it finding them.

  They had just turned a corner, Ellie dragging Drew along when the sound of rapid, climbing footsteps forced her to slam them both against the wall, hoping the smoke clouds would shield them sufficiently. As it turned out, the last of Corbano’s soldiers rushing up the staircase through the door never even looked back. She counted at least eight and waited to be sure no others were following before yanking Drew down it after her.

  They were both coughing by the time the stairs ended, eyes watering so badly that it was several seconds after they emerged outside in the back of the house before they could make them work again. Drew moved as if in a daze. The woman was tugging at him, forcing him into a run parallel to the burning house, close enough to feel the heat of the raging flames that had begun to pour through the walls.

  A huge green tarpaulin rose before them and the woman dragged him against it so they could catch their breath. Drew watched as, intrigued, she yanked part of the tarp aside.

  He saw her smile.

  The roof flattened out just before the edge, saving both Wayman and Corbano from a potential deadly plunge. Wayman had the advantage briefly, but they rolled again and with that the White Snake’s fingers were digging into his throat. The Timber Wolf felt his head over the roof’s edge and realized that Corbano was trying to shove the rest of him off as well.

  Instead of increasing the pressure on Wayman’s throat, Corbano mounted a savage thrust. The Timber Wolf found himself able to twist his body enough to strip the White Snake’s balance and throw him aside. Wayman rolled free and regained his feet, just as Corbano found his.

  The old rivals faced each other on the sloped roof.

  Corbano lunged first, screaming, with a kick that was poorly timed. The Timber Wolf blocked it out of midair and twisted the knee violently. Corbano bellowed in pain as Wayman toppled him face first to the surface, holding tight to continue his enemy’s momentum off the roof.

  Suddenly, shingles exploded by his feet. Armed men were pouring from the window one after the other. Wayman yanked the White Snake back to his feet and held him from behind by the throat, offering Corbano out as a helpless screen, making it obvious he could break his neck with the slightest motion.

  The guards hesitated, unsure. Still, they fanned out in close ranks on the roof.

  “Don’t move!” Wayman screamed.

  But they kept moving, coming at him.

  “I’ll kill him!”

  But the threat only slowed them and the Timber Wolf realized that the stalemate belonged to them. He backed up to the very edge and felt for the last container of tear gas within his jacket. He searched for a way out, holding Corbano by the throat before him.

  Then the grinding sound came. Wayman heard it an instant before he saw the massive yellow payloader, turned by tires six feet high with a shovel powerful enough to keep an entire river of mud from overrunning the house during the back country’s rainy season, swing around from the side of the building. Ellie was behind the wheel and heading it for the front of the house where his heels teetered.

  In that single instant, Wayman saw what he had to do and acted. He sent the final jar of tear gas crashing toward the men before him as he shoved Corbano away and leaped from the roof.

  Part of the second story jutted out beneath him. He landed hard on its flat surface and wasted no time or motion as he rolled forward and dropped off toward ground level. Such a fall would have been deadly from three stories, but it was doable from a distance of barely twenty feet. The key was to reduce the initial impact by tucking into a roll as soon as the ground came up. He struck it hard enough to take his wind away, but he felt himself rolling and knew he was safe.

  Ellie had spun the loader around so the cab was shielded by the raised shovel, effectively blocking out gunfire. Wayman’s roll had stopped just two yards from the machine and he pulled himself into the high cab seconds later. It was built to hold one person, and three made for a tight squeeze.

  Then they were moving in reverse, Ellie peering frantically behind her as bullets chimed off the loader’s shovel. Wayman could hear Corbano shouting something to his men, but he couldn’t make out the words above the roar. Ellie swung the loader around as they approached the stone fence, then lowered the shovel. The machine’s pace wasn’t even slowed as it crashed straight through and blazed a fresh path through the woods.

  Wayman kept his eyes locked behind him, Ellie rotating hers as she struggled to control the yellow monster. Drew stirred and moaned, slumping against the right door. Bullets pounded the yellow frame as Corbano and his remaining men rushed through the woods giving chase, gaining slightly as Ellie did her best to maneuver among the trees. A volley of shots nearly found the gas tank, which reminded Wayman of something he had seen near Drew’s feet when he pulled himself in. He shoved Drew’s legs aside.

  Yes, there it was! A gasoline can, full to the brim. He hoisted it upward and swung it hard against the rear window of the cab. The glass shattered outward. Wayman pulled the can back in and ripped off the top. Then he jammed his torso through the opening in the glass, gas can outstretched before him, feeling jagged shards slice through his shirt and find his skin.

  The Timber Wolf steadied himself enough to tip the can downward and pour the contents onto the ground in the loader’s wake, drawing a steady line behind them in the path it plowed through the woods. A narrow path, narrow enough for the plan to work.

  Bullets whizzed by Wayman’s head. He shook the rest of the gasoline from the can and tossed it aside. He pushed along the loader’s backside to propel himself back inside the cab.

  “Hurry!” Elliana urged, realizing his intention as a thick branch smashed into the windshield.

  The Timber Wolf already h
ad his pistol out.

  Thirty yards back, Corbano was steadying another Laws rocket.

  “Christ,” Wayman muttered and pulled the trigger of his pistol.

  The gasoline-fueled flames caught and ran directly up the line Wayman had drawn on the ground. The gun-wielding men peeled off the path into the woods.

  Corbano had moved to the side before them. He watched the wall of flames race by him as he squeezed the trigger of his Laws.

  The rocket shot out.

  The payloader went up in an orange fireball, which seemed to join the fiery path already plowed through the woods. Corbano lunged to the ground and covered his head from the possible falling debris. When he finally looked up, the shell of the payloader was resting on its side, one stubborn tire spinning slowly and turning flames with it. There wouldn’t be much left of the bodies after such a blast, Corbano figured.

  Nothing left at all.

  Chapter 31

  “YOU’RE SURE YOU GOT them this time?”

  The Council leader’s voice was laced with uncharacteristic concern.

  “No one could have survived a blast like that,” Corbano reported, the scorched side of his milk-white face covered with bandages. “We searched the woods to make sure. Nothing. Their meager attempt at disruption has been squashed.”

  “An interesting analysis considering the casualties encountered on our side.”

  “Soldiers, nothing more. Easily replaced.”

  “Eighteen men were killed or wounded.”

  “By two who were experts in their trade. The ratio is not so hard to believe as it seems. Place the resources of the Timber Wolf and the Jew bitch together and instantly their individual abilities become magnified … not that it gained them anything. All operations can move ahead as scheduled. By six P.M. tomorrow, Powderkeg will have begun to spread across the eastern seaboard. Washington, New York, Boston, Philadelphia—all will have ceased to exist by midnight.”