The Last Bazaar

by David Leadbeater

  Drake felt the gun barrel dig in a little harder before being pulled away. Yes, Akatash was a sadist No surprise there.

  “I’ve changed my mind,” Ramses said as he walked out. “No mercy for them. Slit their throats now.”

  CHAPTER FORTY FIVE

  Hayden chafed as they waited for the backup she’d hastily arranged but it soon arrived in the form of two big military choppers, sent swiftly from the nearest airbase and consequently equipped to fly in the Peruvian mountains, both filled with the requested backup in the form of military men. Other forms of swift transport were on full alert, ready to whisk the SPEAR team anywhere and, in particular, to New York. Over half an hour had already passed since they realized Drake and Alicia had been taken captive, but the newly arrived choppers had lifted off some time before that, during the chase, tracking Hayden’s chopper through GPS and attempting to rendezvous in the air. When Dahl, Mai and Beau realized Drake and Alicia were lost they had headed quickly toward the area they saw Hayden had landed. The team were distressed and consumed with guilt, but wise enough to remember that time was the issue. They wasted none of it, going over options for an assault at the same time as hoping they were far enough away for Ramses not to consider initiating an attack of his own.

  Smyth favored the full frontal. “I call it, ‘the Miley approach’,” he said. “Attack the castle walls, the gates, the bridge, take the fuckers out.”

  Hayden looked up at the mountains from their hideaway deep within a stand of trees about a mile from the castle. “Well there’s no way of getting in through the back entrance,” she said. “That’s a sheer rock face behind the castle.”

  “Tunnels?” Dahl suggested. “All castles have them. Caves. Concealed entrances. I bet Ramses has several escape routes.”

  Hayden nodded. “A good bet.”

  Kinimaka studied the castle and its environs through powerful field-glasses. “Nothing obvious up there.”

  Kenzie snorted, shaking her head. “As if they would stick a label on it—‘secret entrance three hundred yards’.”

  Lauren laid a hand on the Hawaiian’s shoulder. “Keep looking, Mano. You will get nowhere if you don’t at least try.” She shot a hard gaze at Kenzie.

  Beauregard then walked up to the group. “I could infiltrate the castle. Alone.”

  Dahl glared. “How? It’s all rock up there. No trees or hills or wooden barricades. They have guards every few feet, spotters and snipers too.”

  “I have my ways. I can get inside. Alone.”

  Hayden checked her watch. “Beau, do it. Go now. You’re our backup, and please hurry.”

  The Frenchman slipped away, just another shadow among many.

  Dahl bit his lip. “They’ll be waiting for him. I don’t like it. They know we’re coming.”

  “And that is our answer,” Yorgi said. “It is. We have to do the thing they least expect. It is a thief’s maxim. His . . . um, slogan. What is it that they don’t expect?”

  Hayden again stared at the sheer cliff face that towered above the rear of the castle. “That we would come straight down that.”

  Smyth growled. “That’s because it’s impossible.”

  “Yesssss . . .” Hayden turned. “But maybe there’s another way.”

  “We don’t need all these men,” Dahl said suddenly, eyes wide with adrenalin. “The unexpected already landed right in our laps.”

  *

  Five minutes later the soldiers were ready to move out and attempt one of the most dangerous rescues of their careers. Both Lauren and Yorgi would be left behind, since this was considered a full-on combat mission, and they still had Robert Price to guard. The newly arrived big birds whirled and roared, no doubt seen by those watching from the castle, but that worked in nicely with the plan, as they would see only what initially happened. Dahl fine-tuned it, much to Hayden’s dismay—to allow the Mad Swede to tweak any plan was adding an infinite amount of danger to it, but at least he did check that the local choppers were fully equipped with all they needed before setting off.

  Dahl looked toward the castle once more before they started. “Hold on, my friends,” he said. “We’re coming for you.”

  Then he joined Hayden, Kinimaka and Smyth in a fast sprint toward the whirlybirds. They clambered on and tried not to notice the deep concern written across the pilot’s face.

  “He doesn’t speak English apparently.” Hayden confirmed. “I’m actually quite pleased about that. The guys who came with him are convinced we’re gonna die.”

  Kinimaka frowned. “And why don’t you want him to speak English??”

  “He might be able to talk me out of this.”

  Kenzie squeezed in next to Dahl. “The soldiers don’t sound too happy with your plan.”

  “Just buckle up and hold on. These choppers are used for this kind of thing all the time. Drill and repeat. Drill and repeat. Those guys will be here when we get back.”

  Without wasting a moment the pilot took the chopper into the air, lifting vertically and then swooping away. Up toward the clouds he climbed and away from the castle, making a show of it. After those on the ground would have watched the chopper heading away, he disappeared behind a peak and then rose further before banking sharply back in the direction of the castle a third of the way up its own mountain.

  Dahl was already on his feet. “Chutes,” he said. “Buckle in. Jumping from a chopper is only a little different than jumping from a plane. The pull string is attached to a line, so instead of pulling manually, the line will do it for you. We’re gonna set it to open low, you understand.” He took a breath. “Very low. Do not miss a beat or you will die.”

  Kenzie punched his thigh. “Playful bastard, ain’t ya?” She looked around. “Don’t we need oxygen masks, or something?”

  “Nope,” Dahl didn’t look over at her. “That’s essentially for television.”

  Kinimaka tripped over his straps as he danced around with his parachute, having fought hard to adjust it to maximum girth. Hayden steadied him with a strong hand. Smyth glanced out of the only window.

  “Crap, that still looks a long way down.”

  “Like taking any chance,” Dahl said. “Once you’ve learned how, it just comes naturally.”

  The pilot turned, face creased with worry, and indicated they had risen far enough. Dahl wrenched open the door and let in a frigid, howling wind. With a quick nod he was the first out, pulled downward by gravity and forced even harder by the rotors’ downdraught. Hayden came next and then Kinimaka, Kenzie and Smyth. The chopper waited for a moment, a steady sentinel praying for their safe deliverance.

  Hayden plummeted through the air, horizontal with arms spread, and with an urgency in her heart. Air pressure slammed her ears and a buffeting wind tore at her clothing. Below, the castle grew quickly from a speck to a dot and then a blotch. Very soon she was able to make out the crenelated battlements and ruined chopper.

  At their backs the vertical cliff face shot by, hard impenetrable rock offering cruel death in response to the slightest slip. Dahl’s chute shot open, material billowing past Hayden and then she felt the hard wrench as her own chute filled upward. A violent deceleration to their descent and then they were falling much more agreeably, guiding themselves onto the top of the oblivious guards.

  The inner courtyard rushed up. Hayden took out her guns a moment after Dahl and sighted on half a dozen legionnaires. At the very last second all five descendees opened fire. The next few minutes were a total rout; the victims not comprehending where the bullets were coming from and consequently being caught out in the open. Ramses’ legionnaires sprawled across the castle’s courtyard and battlements, clawing for weapons or just lying still, some groaning, others falling to their deaths, dozens of them.

  Hayden increased the velocity of fire as she neared the ground, knowing their greatest advantage was almost at an end, and determined to take as much of it as possible. They landed one after the other, and hit the ground running, each clicking a button
to free their chutes the moment they touched down to leave the drop zone clear for the next. Hayden felt only a brief exhilaration before turning her mind to their friends and where they might be.

  “Inside.” Dahl started off, then almost tripped over an injured, crawling legionnaire. “Wait.” He reached down and grabbed the man by the ankle, three inches beneath his bullet wound. “Where would Ramses take prisoners?” he snarled.

  The soldier grimaced and shook his head. Dahl shook the leg hard. “Tell me!”

  Then Smyth stepped in. “Their lives are in danger,” he roared and kicked out at the man’s leg. A scream rang out and some wheezing. Seconds later they had a close approximation of where they needed to go.

  Hayden ran ahead, weapons primed and aimed. Three times she squeezed off shots and three men fell, dead. Smyth and Kinimaka also picked guards off. They approached a thick wooden door, wrapped around with studded straps, and kicked it open. Inside, the castle was cold and unwelcoming, the narrow passage constructed of simple rock and unadorned. Hayden concluded it had to be the servants’ quarters and ran ahead. Kenzie appeared at her side.

  “Watch the head count.” Hayden nodded at the ever-present katana. “We don’t want to be branded criminals over this.”

  “Yes, your President has had to grease enough balls as it is.”

  “I wouldn’t quite put it that way but, yes. Yes he has.”

  A service elevator took them to the highest floor, where they walked out onto a plush landing. The lights were golden, throwing burnished hues across the entire area and the walls were lined by immense works of art. Hayden led them down a connecting corridor and then they started checking rooms. Legionnaires appeared from three directions, initiating a firefight.

  Hayden dived headlong into a room, came to her feet, and found herself facing a beautiful, picturesque window—the whole wall a piece of thick glass. Sofas, divans, eighteenth century desks, wall-fittings and statues filled the room, but Hayden’s attention was drawn to the sofa nearest the window.

  She would recognize those two heads anywhere.

  Drake and Alicia.

  But it was the way they were perched on top of the head rest that terrified her.

  CHAPTER FORTY SIX

  Her involuntary gasp of fear brought the heads around, and Hayden almost cried in relief. It had been an optical illusion, contrived by the sofa’s odd design. As she watched, Akatash lurched over the sofa, landing hard, making Hayden even more confused. Then Beauregard appeared, a black ghost, and the scene made sense. At her back the rest of the team held off the legionnaires so Hayden made a move toward Drake and Alicia.

  Beauregard glanced at them. “You took your time, SPEAR team. I infiltrated the kitchen and became tired of waiting for your entrance.”

  Hayden crouched down. “You good?” she asked Drake, withdrawing a knife and slicing through his bonds.

  “I’ll be better once we catch up to Ramses and neutralize his ass.”

  Alicia held her feet up in the air. “I’m fine thanks.”

  “You think I would flee?” A deep, baritone voice filled the room. “You think I, being royalty, would scamper away like a frightened dog?”

  Drake turned his head. Ramses stood in a nearby doorway, filling it, ducking down to pass through.

  The Yorkshireman rose. “There are no dogs in this room,” he said. “Only wolves.”

  A moment passed in which there was no sound, no movements save for the erratic spinning of dust motes through tapering shafts of sunlight. And though the room was huge, the presence of those who filled it felt infinitely larger.

  And none greater than the Mad Swede. “Excuse me, boys and girls, but is this a fight or a staring contest?”

  Pure mayhem erupted. Drake dove at Ramses and the terrorist prince ran straight back at him. They met at full pelt, smashing into each other, neither giving any quarter. Beauregard fell atop Akatash, firing down fist after fist like pneumatic hammers, but Akatash deflected every one whilst exhibiting an utter calm. Hayden and Alicia vaulted the sofa to see the rest of their team engaged in various types of conflict.

  Kinimaka and Smyth crouched by a far L-shaped corner, and held off any legionnaires who sought to enter the fray. Mai, with lightning fast reflexes and Kenzie with her katana fought those already in the room, the Japanese woman having slipped over the battlements after the aerial assault. Dahl plucked bodies from the throng and threw them through nearby walls.

  Beauregard staggered as Akatash slipped away and then delivered a series of vicious kicks. The two opponents met as one, evenly matched, battling hard. One assault was blocked and then another, a counter assault deflected and quickly punished. Bones broke, blood flowed, but neither man gave an inch. Standing up to one another they weaved and snaked, broke choke holds and fell apart. When one fell he instantly pounced back into the fray, neither prepared to lose face.

  Alicia saw how evenly matched they were, peeled away from Hayden and charged in to help. Akatash flinched under Alicia’s spry assault, jumping away beyond her reach. Drake bounced off Ramses one more time but continued to use him as a punching bag, slamming punches into kidneys, gut and chest, ignoring the pain in his own wrists. Ramses wasn’t good enough to stop every blow but what he lacked in skill he more than made up for in muscle and pain resistance. The two blows he had managed to deliver made Drake see stars.

  Kenzie danced around Mai, the two women facing six to one odds, but clouding that in a whirl of violence and precision. Dahl jumped in to help them. The sword flashed twice, back and forth, and four men fell dead. Mai glided between bodies, slipping and sliding at every turn and never offering a stationary target, senses attuned to all sides and to everything around her, bending and breaking limbs, throwing huge men with ease, and landing lethal blows. Mai was so good, would-be killers still came at her before realizing they were already dead. Kenzie’s eyes filled with a new respect. Dahl kept his eyes on the sword as if desperate to ask for a loan.

  Drake slid under Ramses’ arm and punched three, four times. Not even a flinch touched the man’s eyes or body. He moved around the back, floating like Ali, and tried three kidney punches. Ramses swung around, a haymaker coming to take Drake’s head off, but it was easily avoidable. The Yorkshireman ducked and then tried Ramses’ face but striking those cheekbones was like striking foundation blocks.

  Drake stood back. “What the fuck are you made of?”

  Ramses guffawed. “Royal—”

  Drake drew a knife and sliced across the man’s throat. “Blood?”

  Luckily for the terrorist prince it was a shallow cut, leaking only a little red. But the pain incensed him, as Drake hoped it might. Bending down he swayed and swung. Drake concentrated on the vulnerable spots, knowing constant pain would soon wear him down.

  Alicia, Beau and Akatash flowed past the expansive picture window; bewitching, eternal views to their left, violence on a whole new level to their right. Beau engaged almost all of the bodyguard’s attention whilst Alicia darted in and distracted him. The Frenchman’s expression said it all.

  I can handle this.

  Alicia checked on Drake and saw him head-to-head with Ramses. Could she help both men? The notion was relatively fresh to her—until recently she’d only cared for one person in battle—one feisty, hard-assed heroine with an attitude on the wrong side of bad. Now though . . .

  Hayden saw Smyth and Kinimaka were starting to struggle at the bottleneck. More legionnaires were coming and some were slipping through. She drew her gun and ran to help, picking them off one by one.

  “Dahl!” she cried.

  “Low on ammo,” Smyth rumbled, face like riven paving. “And no end to these fuckers.”

  Hayden threw him an extra clip. She didn’t need to explain further. At this rate they would be using their knives soon. She scooped up the few discarded enemy weapons and piled them at Smyth’s back.

  “This should help.”

  Dahl clobbered those nearest to him and then r
an among them, smashing left and right, using his gun only when there was no alternative.

  Drake raised an arm as Ramses picked up a lamp and smashed it down on him. Pieces shattered everywhere. Drake grabbed the flapping cord and looped it around the giant’s neck, then physically leapt behind him, pulling hard. The cord tightened and the man screeched, the first sound of pain he’d made as yet. Drake leaned back as far as he could, hauling with all his strength and using every pound of weight. Ramses pushed the other way, veins bulging, hands scrabbling to get under the cord, feet planted as if they had taken root there.

  Drake leaned as far back as he dared, shocked at how hard Ramses fought. An errant bullet split the air between them, fired by a sprinting legionnaire who then collapsed dead after being cleaved by Kenzie. It seemed that both she and Mai were almost finished with their knot of legionnaires and would soon be free to help. Drake hung on, heaving, and then Ramses faltered. Falling to one knee, he put a fist on the ground, gasping for breath. Drake knew that to let up would be to risk losing his advantage, and kept on pulling although the strength was draining from his muscles. Realizing he was close enough to reach Ramses with his boot he introduced it to the man’s spine, and then his lower back bone. Keeping the cord in place he then leapt high, coming down on Ramses’ exposed neck as hard as he could with an elbow.

  The prince collapsed, groaning. Mai ran up. Drake panted and glanced at her.

  “Great timing, love.”

  The Japanese woman reached out a hand to help him up. “Been a while.”

  “The best of friends don’t need to talk every day,” he said. “They pick up just where they left off. Even if it’s been years.”

  Mai’s face turned speculative and Drake realized she might be reading a little too much into that. Ramses seemed to get a second wind then though, and kicked out. Drake knelt on his back and quickly tied his hands and legs with cord.