Rise: Luthecker, #2

by Keith Domingue

  “You don’t know what this is yet, do you, Lucas Parks? Why it is you confessed to me, so freely all that you believe to be real about the world, in such detail? Why you had to? Why you couldn’t stop yourself?”

  The two men circled one another.

  “Well then let me tell you why. It’s the end for you. It’s the final sum of all the moments that made you who you are. And you were pleading your case to the universe through me. Pleading for mercy before the end. Because deep in your heart, you’ve known all along what this day is.”

  “Yeah, and what’s that?”

  “Judgment day.”

  Luthecker pulled the steel chain with the metal hammers on either end from the wall. His mind flashed back to Winn’s words of instruction with the meteor hammer and rope as he began to spin the chain, with its two metal spheres on each end, into a whirlwind of circular motion—the hammer-balls of metal were nothing but a blur.

  “You are at the center of the storm.”

  Luthecker estimated each metal ball weighed thirteen ounces as he spun them, and he quickly found a comfortable twin orbital rhythm that had the hammer-balls approaching deadly striking speed.

  Parks watched Luthecker spin the ball and chain arrangement with expert skill. It was a whirlwind of perfectly symmetrical motion. His heart sank with realization. Luthecker had played him. His anger rose. This was his house, his castle, and he would have the final word. He dropped the Turco-Mongol saber and dived behind the bar. He quickly found what he was looking for, his Glock 9mm resting in its holster on the first shelf, exactly where he had left it. He removed the pistol from its holster and pulled back the slide to chamber a round before he sprung up from behind the bar and aimed.

  The hammer ball hit Parks in the center of his chest so hard that it not only shattered his sternum, causing bone fragments to pierce both his heart and lungs, it also dislodged both of Parks’ clavicles. Parks’ hand twitch-released the Glock before he could pull the trigger, and he immediately collapsed to the floor.

  Luthecker dropped the ball and chain arrangement and rushed behind the bar. He saw that Parks was lying on his back, his legs twisted at odd angles, and that the drug and arms dealer bled from both the nose and mouth. Luthecker stooped low next to Parks, and the two of them locked eyes. Both men knew it was too late.

  Parks moved his hand with effort and signaled Alex to come closer.

  “So smart…you are….but even you can’t see past your own choices. Let’s see how you handle the loss of what you love most…” Parks said to Alex, in a strained whisper marbled with blood. “If my men…don’t hear from me….they will kill her…”

  Parks abruptly grabbed Luthecker by the collar, making sure to lock eyes with him before he spoke. “She’s going to die, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it.”

  Parks let out a final smile before his facial muscles went slack with death, his hand simultaneously releasing Luthecker’s collar and falling toward the floor. Luthecker caught Parks’ hand before it landed. He gently held it in his own and watched as the life faded from Parks’ eyes.

  Alex carefully placed Parks’ hand across his chest and slowly stood up. He noticed that his own hands were shaking. He winced as a sudden pain that began in the back of his skull soon took over his senses. It was a familiar pain that he had not felt since Tibet and Nikki’s kidnapping in Los Angeles. Through the migraine-fog, there was a moment of clarity, brought on by both Parks’ words and the arms dealer’s death. It dawned on Alex, like the sun abruptly breaking from the clouds. It was Nikki all along, he realized. Somehow his body had understood all along what his mind had been in steadfast refusal to acknowledge. She is on borrowed time, he thought. And he had been the one who had borrowed it for her. He had to find her, fast. And even though he could not see his own fate and, by the combination of love and proxy, could neither see hers, he understood the decision he had made before he’d arrived in Trans Dniester, the decision he made going back to the night he first saw her in Club Sutra over a year ago. He was going to have to sacrifice himself to save her.

  Semyon sat in the passenger seat of the black Humvee as Reza slowly navigated the dirt roads that wound between the abandoned industrial buildings that made up warehouse row.

  “There is a power hook up in one building. And Internet,” Leonid, seated behind Semyon in the Humvee, said.

  “How do you know of this?” Abram, seated next to Leonid, asked.

  “It was set up by propagandists and kept secret, but I know of it because I have a friend who likes to bootleg movies, and that is the only place he can go that he is not watched. Masha would know of it as well. If I were her, that would be the first place I would take my new friends to try and get help.”

  The two-ton military vehicle hit a bump in the crumbling road, and the AK-47s piled in the back rattled.

  “It is the next right,” Leonid added.

  Semyon checked the rear-view mirror of the passenger seat. He saw through the dust trail that another Humvee, carrying four more of his soldiers, followed close. He signaled to the trailing vehicle by sticking his hand out the window and pointing to the right, just as Reza made the turn. The trailing Humvee followed.

  “The explosion in the River. Do you think that was Masha and her friends?” Reza asked.

  Semyon shrugged. “I do not care. Let’s just kill them all and be done with it.”

  “What will we tell Mr. Parks about the American woman?”

  “Mr. Parks is not answering his phone. And the Barbarian preaches no survivors.”

  “It’s right over there,” Leonid said, pointing.

  The Humvee rolled to a stop in front of the faded brick-faced administrative office with the ripped off front door that had served as Nikki’s command post only moments earlier. Semyon and his men could see through the building’s broken windows and partially collapsed wall that the structure was empty. Semyon, along with Reza and Leonid, exited the Humvee just as the trailing military transport vehicle pulled to a stop behind them.

  Semyon looked to the dirt road. He recognized fresh tire tracks. And foot prints.

  “We will start our search here,” he said, as the other soldiers approached and locked and loaded their AK-47 rifles.

  “Go building to building. Kill anyone you see.”

  “There’s eight of them,” Winn said, as he watched Semyon and his men exit their vehicles, before he ducked back behind the rusting air conditioning tower. “Too many to confront directly.”

  Winn was on the rooftop of a rotting structure, six buildings east of the small building from which Nikki had crashed the SR-73 into the Dniester River. He looked at Nikki who hid low behind the roof top ledge. She sat, rubbing her right ankle. It was beginning to throb again, and blood was visible through the bandage.

  It wasn’t long after the impact of the scramjet on the Dniester River surface that the two of them heard the heavy diesel rumble of Semyon’s Humvee rolling down the street toward them. They had fled the building, but Nikki’s ankle and knee injuries slowed them down. At one point, Nikki collapsed, and Winn had been forced to carry up the stairs to their current rooftop-hiding place.

  “Are you okay?” he asked her.

  “I’m fine; I can walk,” she lied.

  “We’ll stay put for now. Keep watch on them. If they get closer, we’ll move.”

  “We can’t keep running.”

  “We’ll pick them off, one at a time if we can. Circle back and take one of the vehicles if we have the opportunity.”

  Nikki tried her ankle and winced.“It doesn’t look good, does it?”

  “When has that ever stopped you? Or any of us?”

  He reached over his shoulder and removed his Kali sticks from their holster. He had only one set. “It will be, as it will be.”

  “What about the others? What about Alex?”

  “Let’s hope they find him. Let’s hope when they do, he can help. Right now, we’re on our own.”

  Alex rippe
d the Mongolian Jida Lance from its mooring on the wall above the fireplace. Made of wood, the shaft was two inches thick and twelve feet long, with an eight inch steel blade screwed onto the end. Alex kept an eye on the door to Parks’ suite for movement as he quickly unscrewed the blade from the end of the spear. He tossed the blade aside and moved across the room, fast and silent with the bladeless spear in hand, picking up the Turco-Mongol saber that Parks had held only moments earlier. He checked that the blade of the saber was indeed sharp, before placing the Jida Lance on the stone floor in front of him. He measured off half of the spear length before raising the saber high over his head and slamming it down on the midpoint of the lance, cleanly cutting the wooden shaft in half.

  Alex picked up each half of the broken lance in either hand and tested them for weight and feel. He then spun the wooden spear halves through a series of familiar sets of Eskrima combat patterns and motions, gauging their weight and learning their balance. They were a bit longer than he was used to, but he concluded that they would be very effective as Kali sticks. He placed them both in his left hand and looked to the door. There was a visible space between the slightly asymmetrical stone of the floor and the perfectly straight metal flange that was bolted onto the thick wooden door to Parks’ chamber. Alex saw a shadow of movement in the space between door and floor. The guard who had checked in on Parks earlier had chosen to return to his post.

  In the brief moment that the Russian soldier had peeked over Parks’ shoulder and looked at Alex, Alex knew everything that the man feared, loved, and hoped for. The soldier was a man who took his work seriously and would not leave his post if he deemed it in the best interest of his superior’s needs, which he did now. He also had a wife and young daughter, and he would instinctively look to minimize his risk. His movements would be hesitant and reactionary. Alex would try his best not to hurt him.

  Alex quietly approached the door and opened it a crack before stepping back and hiding from view on the hinge side of the entrance. He held a stick in each hand and waited.

  It took only three seconds before curiosity got the best of the guard, and he carefully pushed the door open with his left hand, leading with the AK-47 in his right. He slowly crept into the room.

  “Sir? Mr. Parks?”

  Alex cracked one stick across the barrel of the rifle and the other across the man’s temple simultaneously. The guard crumpled to the floor, unconscious before he hit the stone. Alex dropped low and quickly peered into the hallway for others—there were none. He dragged the unconscious guard into Parks’ suite, using the chain from the chain and hammer-ball weapon to tie the unconscious man to the bedpost. He then left the room and entered the hallway, carefully closing the door behind him.

  “That’s a hella compound,” Yaw said as he, Chris, and Masha looked at “Hoptx Ctapt,” otherwise known as the North Star castle. Surrounded by a well-manicured, twelve-foot bright green hedge fence, the enormous main building, with its high walls and bastion towers, was still visible from the street two blocks away. The three of them milled about the WRX parked next to the curb.

  “How are we going to get in?” Chris asked.

  “There is a service entrance on the west side of the estate,” Masha answered. “Only two guards man that gate. Well armed, but they know me.”

  “Aren’t you a wanted woman now? Aren’t we all wanted?” Chris asked.

  “Perhaps. But Semyon is a proud man. He would never admit to what happened in the alley next to the club. And he would never risk the wrath of Lucas Parks or worse, the Barbarian, if he failed. He would say nothing to anyone until he has recaptured your friend.”

  “Won’t they suspect something if you’re using a service entrance?”

  “Girl’s are brought in through the service entrance all the time.”

  “Wait. Are you saying…”

  Masha put her hand on Chris’ cheek. “Not me. But it will not look unexpected. Trust me.”

  “What about us?” Yaw asked.

  “Get in the trunk. The both of you.”

  “What?”

  “There is no time to argue. Let’s go and rescue the one you call Alex before Semyon finds the others. ”

  Alex ran his hand down the smooth stone walls of the North Star castle and felt their history. He could almost hear the countless voices of those who had walked these hallways over the centuries. For Alex, places where people had gathered together over the course of many lifetimes inevitably developed a soul of their own. These places became holy in their own right, and as such they held their own power; the faint trace ghosts of the lives and purpose of all those who had passed and left their impact on the momentum could be felt, their existences barely audible echoes through time. Alex felt that the powers of place and time were available to him, if he could only find their meaning within the momentum. He realized that it was more than likely too late for him.

  He was on the top floor of the castle and had four floors to descend before he reached ground level. His only thought was of Nikki. He had to escape this maze and find her. He entered the emergency exit stairs at the far end of the hall, in hopes that he would not encounter any more of Parks’ security. He quickly moved down two flights of stairs. His hopes of no confrontation were dashed when he reached the second floor of the castle. The Russian soldier, unaware that anything was amiss, pushed the stairwell door open with no expectation, and got the surprise of his life via a Kali stick to the temple that knocked him out cold. Alex caught the man before he could hit the floor and pulled him into the stairwell. He leaned the man against the wall and checked the second floor hallway—empty again. Thus far, his exit had been easy. He knew that could change in an instant. He still had one more floor to go.

  “Semyon told me to meet him here,” Masha said to the security guard in Russian as she sat behind the wheel of her WRX.

  “I thought you two were no longer together,” the security guard replied.

  “That was last week.” Masha gave him a flirtatious, dizzy-girl smile.

  The guard took a deep breath for patience and briefly looked over at his partner in the booth. “How come we have not heard this from him?” the guard asked as he bent over and peeked inside the car, scanning the interior of the WRX.”

  “I do not know.”

  “I see you have cleaned it,” the guard said.

  “It was beginning to stink. And you know how Semyon is; busy until he is not busy. He is not answering his phone but last night he told me he wanted me here before noon.”

  The security guard did not look convinced. “You can call him if you want,” Masha bluffed. “Or I can always come back…”

  “No. No, it is okay,” the security guard said, fearing Semyon’s wrath if he expected Masha to be here and finding out that it was him who turned her away. The security guard looked to his partner in the booth again and shrugged.

  Masha clenched the steering wheel tightly and held her breath as the metal gate slowly rumbled open.

  “When Semyon calls in, I will tell him you are here.”

  Masha smiled and nodded before putting the WRX in gear and driving onto the North Star castle grounds.

  Alex knew where the men were standing and what they were thinking before he even reached the lobby level of the North Star castle. There were three of them, one at the door, one at the security desk, and one sitting on a lobby couch eating a sandwich. None of them suspected anything was amiss or were in any way sensitive to the air of change about them. The men’s thoughts dully drifted from duty to personal life, ranging from dinner plans to children’s birthday parties. The boredom of routine pulled them out of the moment, so much so that it dulled their instincts in such a way that they were unable to sense that there was a predator in the room with them.

  Alex observed the men from the adjoining hallway and knew that his best chance was to get the guards to come to him in closed quarters. He saw the lobby men’s room entrance fifty feet to his right. He went for it.

  S
ergei was mid-bite into his sandwich when he heard the feint echo of the bathroom door close. At least he thought he heard it. He wasn’t sure, so he looked to the others. They confirmed his suspicion by both looking at the bathroom door. Sergei dropped his sandwich and picked up his rifle. He signaled to the other two men that he would go first to check it out. He slowly approached the men’s room door, rifle ready. He carefully pushed the swivel door open and stepped inside. The door slowly closed behind him.

  Several seconds passed.

  “Sergei,” Anatoly called out. Sergei had been in the bathroom with no response for far too long. Anatoly looked to David, the desk guard. David nodded to Anatoly, “go.”

  Anatoly kicked the men’s room door open, his rifle ready. A quick glance revealed that there was no one in the room. Puzzled, he moved toward the first stall, and that’s when he felt a sharp pain in his skull and everything went black.

  David froze at the sight and sound of Anatoly going down, and his microsecond of hesitation ended with Sergei’s rifle being pointed at his chest, except it wasn’t Sergei holding the rifle—it was Mr. Parks’ newest prisoner, the one who had been labeled strictly off limits. That was the last thought his brain registered before the prisoner moved faster than David believed possible, and the young Russian guard caught a rifle butt across the temple.

  Alex dragged the last of the three guards into the men’s room, placing the man’s unconscious frame in the third and final stall. He pulled the clips from the rifles and threw them into the trashcan before picking up his Kali sticks and exiting the men’s room.

  The lobby was clear, but it wouldn’t be for long. A front exit wouldn’t be possible. Alex hustled toward the back entrance of the castle.

  “You need to shower, bro,” Chris said, as he and Yaw crawled out of the trunk of Masha’s WRX.

  “So do you.”