by Rob Jones
Ryan didn’t need to be told twice and ran forward to the wheelhouse. As he went he glanced over his shoulder and saw Reaper and the Colombian rebel fighting hard on the deck. They crashed into the net and began tumbling over each other as the punches flew.
But Ryan couldn’t stop to help. He had only one target in mind: Dirk Kruger.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Corcovado Mountain is a monumental peak of granite rising nearly two and half thousand feet into the air above the Tijuca Forest to the north of Copacabana. People reached the top via a rack railway which carried them two and half miles to the peak where they could see the world-famous statue of Christ the Redeemer. Nearly one hundred feet tall, the statue had looked over Rio de Janeiro since 1931 and attracted countless millions of tourists.
Now, Ziad Saqqal, Bashir Jawad and Mr Rajavi were scrambling out of the catering truck and running toward their only hope of fulfilling Saqqal’s insane plan – the Corcovado Rack Railway. Bursting into the front cab, Saqqal waved a gun in the face of the engineer and forced him to start the train. Jawad followed his boss toward the train while Rajavi sprayed the platform with bullets and then leaped up to join the others. The train began to pull away and start its journey to the peak.
Joe Hawke watched Jawad as he gripped the medical carrying case in his arms the way he might cling to a distressed baby and all around the tourists were screaming and running for cover from Rajavi’s submachine gun. They were terrified of the bullets as they fired from the flashing muzzle, but both Hawke and Lea knew they should be a thousand times more terrified of the contents of Jawad’s medical case.
“Where the hell are they going?” Lea said.
“This train goes to the top of the mountain,” said Hawke. “I think Saqqal wants to release Utopia from an elevation to increase the area the wind spreads it to.”
“Which means only one thing…”
“Right – we have a train to catch!”
Hawke and Lea leaped onto the rear car of the rack railway and reloaded their weapons. The train was only two carriages long, and they could see Saqqal holding a gun to the engineer’s head up front. Beside him, a nervous Jawad was still gripping the case, but now Rajavi was padding down the first carriage with his submachine gun in his hand.
Hawke frowned. “We could be in trouble. That gun’s a lot bigger than mine, Lea.”
“Don’t worry, baby… it’s what you do with it that counts.”
He gave her a look and cocked his head at her. “Is it now?”
She winked and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Time to rock n’ roll, Josiah.”
“Then let’s start this dance,” he said, and aimed his gun at the man in the mask who was now almost at the door separating the two cars.
Hawke fired, smashing the glass in the door and sending Rajavi diving for cover, but he was soon back up again and returning fire. The bullets from his Heckler & Koch ripped the wooden fittings of the second car to shreds in seconds, showering Hawke and Lea in a cloudburst of splinters and dust.
A nervous Saqqal ordered Rajavi to stop Hawke and Lea from getting to the front of the train under any circumstances. The Iranian’s response was to rake the carriage for a second time with his submachine gun, but that was a mistake.
With the H&K out of rounds, Hawke charged forward and grappled the strongman to the floor of the first car. Rajavi fought back like a demon, using the gun as a club and lashing out wildly with the stock, clipping Hawke around the jaw with it.
Hawke flew back, nearly knocked unconscious and Lea charged into the fray in defense of the man she loved. A swift kick sent Rajavi flying backwards where he crashed back into the seats and cracked his head on the steel rim of the window. Hawke got his focus back and leaped on top of the man once again, pulling his fist back and pounding it into the weird silicon mask.
Rajavi flicked his head to the left and right to dodge the blows but he was getting tired. Somehow he got his knees up and managed to wedge his boot in Hawke’s stomach and force him back for just enough time to allow Rajavi to get back on his feet.
The Iranian padded forward, his heavy breathing muffled by the silicon mask which was now half-pulled down and at an odd angle. He hurriedly shifted it back but Hawke had stretched it and torn the side during the scuffle and it slipped back down again.
Rajavi slammed him against the top of the chair, squeezing his neck with his enormous hands. Up close, Hawke saw the mask more clearly now, and the hate-filled eyes lurking behind the slits in the silicon. The weirdness was made worse by the mask’s low quality. While some silicon masks were almost indistinguishable from real human faces, this was cheap and obvious.
Hawke reached up to grab at the man’s hands but he was too strong and his thick, meaty fingers were clasped around the Englishman’s windpipe in an iron grip that was impossible to release. Then he had an idea, and moved his hands up from the grip around his throat and onto the mask, grabbing hold of a fistful of silicon at the side of the mask.
Hawke felt the mask come away from the man’s face, and Rajavi responded immediately, leaping away and taking a few steps back. He hurried to shift the mask back into place. The terror in his eyes made his fear of exposing his disfigured face to the word harshly obvious.
The former Commando saw his weakness now, and he rushed forward, grabbing a fistful of silicon. This time the mask came away in his hands, and for a second he could hardly believe what he was seeing as he stared into Rajavi’s indescribably mutilated face. He was barely recognizable as human, with just the two eyes staring back at him from a mass of scar tissue and exposed teeth and muscle.
Rajavi screamed with rage as the silicon mask flapped away on the breeze and disappeared through the smashed window. He lashed out but his anger destroyed his accuracy and Hawke was able to dodge the blows easily.
Outside the train was rattling around a right-hand bend and then it crossed a wooden bridge. Lea looked down and saw a sheer drop of hundreds of feet falling away from the right-hand side of the tiny rack train.
The Englishman saw the distressed terror in his opponent’s eyes, and almost felt sorry for him, but then Rajavi pulled a small flick knife from his pocket and pushed his thumb down on the button. The blade flicked out and flashed in the light.
Rajavi grinned and nodded as he thrust the knife forward, but Hawke was faster.
He grabbed the Iranian’s belt and used his own bodyweight against him to push him out of the window.
Rajavi let out a blood-curdling scream as his heavy body tumbled out of the window of the Corcovado rack train and spun over the edge of the cliff. The drop was so far the sound of his screams died out long before he smashed into the bottom.
Hawke dusted his hands off and wiped the blood from his mouth as Lea took a deep breath. They were both aware that the train was now slowing down and looked outside to see they were pulling into the station.
Ahead of them, Saqqal was dragging the engineer out of the front of the train with a knife pushed into his throat. “You come any closer and I slash his throat.”
When they were clear, Saqqal pushed the engineer aside and he and Jawad made a break for it, sprinting away from the small station at the top of Corcovado and making their way toward the tourist center at the base of the statue. Christ the Redeemer loomed a hundred feet above their heads as they ran around the base and disappeared to the west side.
Armed only with his old kukri, Hawke and Lea gave chase and pursued the Syrians around to the west side of the Redeemer. When they got to the other side of the platform they were amazed to see the whole of Rio de Janeiro in front of them. It was a breathtaking vista from this elevation, but there was no time to appreciate it because standing at the end of the platform with nothing behind them but a sheer drop of hundreds of feet was General Ziad Saqqal and Dr Jawad, and they were fumbling with the locks on the medical carry case.
“Get back!” Saqqal shouted. “Get back or I will release Utopia!”
“Take it e
asy, Ziad,” Hawke said, slowly reaching around to check the kukri was still on his belt. “You don’t want to do that.”
“But I do! This is the most lethal airborne plague in history! This, right here in my hands, was responsible for the annihilation of Paititi and the destruction of the Inca civilization. Now it will destroy civilizations again, starting with the people of this city.”
“We don’t have the NBC suits!” Jawad screamed. “You cannot release it!”
“Silence!”
Jawad made a break for it, and Lea ran after him, leaving Hawke with Saqqal. It didn’t take her long to catch up with the unfit scientist, and she brought him down with a leg tackle.
Jawad scrambled to get away from both Lea and Saqqal, desperately trying to flee to safety before Utopia was released and pandemonium broke out in the city. Unlike everyone else on this mountain, he alone knew what would truly happen if this thing somehow got out of containment and was exposed to the atmosphere.
Now, the woman was striking him and trying to stop him getting away. Jawad had never fought in his life, and being struck in the face hurt more than he’d imagined.
“Please stop!” he yelled. “We have to get away! You don’t understand!”
Lea stepped back and wiped the blood from her mouth. It was time to shut down the enemy and she knew that when there was serious work to do the time to start was always now. She fired back with a fast palm strike that collided brutally with the scientist’s chin, smacking his head back on the concrete and knocking him out.
Then she turned and ran back to Hawke. Somewhere on the other side of the enormous Christ statue he was trying to stop that lunatic Saqqal from releasing the Utopia plague.
*
Ziad Saqqal had no love for humanity, not after what had happened to his family in the rocket attack, and he had made his peace with the universe. He had wondered if he could live with himself and unleash the plague on the world at the same time, and he had thought yes. Now he had to consider if he could take his own life in the process.
Staring at the former SBS man who was now fast approaching him, he thought yes once again, and began to unlock the carrying case. Dying in agony from Utopia over the next few hours would be preferable to a life in jail on terror charges.
But then the Englishman pulled a chunky knife from his belt and hurled it at him. It flew through the air with the speed of a Ninja’s shuriken and he felt the heavy blade plunge into his chest. His eyes widened like two saucers as he realized what had happened, and then he turned those two crazed eyes downwards to the wound and saw the mighty blade sticking through his ribs.
He could feel the case in his hand as he began to go over the rail. If he hurled himself off, Utopia would be released before the English bastard could stop it. It was his last chance… his last act. He felt his consciousness slipping away as the blood poured from the terrible wound in his chest and pump over his body.
Hawke watched as Saqqal began to topple over the rail, the case still in his hand. If it went over the cliff with the Syrian it would smash apart and Utopia would be released to the world, furiously multiplying as it spread its death cloud over the human population, spreading from city to city.
He knew he had only one chance to stop this, and sprinted forward with all his might. With his body awash with adrenalin he surged forward and snatched the medical case just as Saqqal toppled over the edge.
*
He peered over the cliff edge and saw the smashed body of Ziad Saqqal crash into the rocks and spin down in to the ravine, broken and bashed beyond repair. He breathed out with relief as he locked the carry case back up and set it down on the concrete, and then he felt Lea slide her arm through his. He turned as she kissed him on the cheek, the enormous statue of Christ the Reedeemer rising above them.
They kissed for a moment and hugged each other before returning their gaze to the incredible sight of Rio de Janeiro. The city lights began to sparkle as night approached.
“That is one pretty view, Josiah.”
“Thanks, I’m trying something new with my hair.”
“Not you, ya fool – the city behind your big, fat head.”
“Ah…”
Lea rolled her eyes and pointed to an enormous, steep peak jutting out into Guanabara Bay. “What’s that mountain over there?”
“Sugarloaf Mountain. If old Saqqal had gone there instead we could have re-enacted Moonraker,” Hawke said with a devilish grin.
“Cable cars… really?” Lea said. “After Switzerland and Zaugg?”
“Yeah… maybe not.”
She peered over the rail and saw the flashing lights as the police raced up the hill. “Can’t be too long till we have company.”
“Hmm – shame I don’t have my wingsuit. This would make the perfect launching platform, but as it is, we’ve got quite the walk ahead of us so let’s get started.”
Lea cocked her head and squinted as she looked at his stomach. “She’s right you know.”
“Who’s right?”
“Cairo. She said you were getting a bit of a tummy.”
“Are you having a laugh?”
“Sure I am.”
He smiled. Having a laugh was always easy if Lea Donovan was around.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Ryan Bale wiped the sweat from his forehead and checked the magazine Reaper had given him. Three rounds. He smacked it back into the grip of the Glock.
Make them count.
After a lifetime looking down his nose at violence and guns, it suddenly felt good in his hands. He liked the weight of it, the shape of the grip, the feel of the steel trigger guard.
The power of life and death.
His new-found love of the weapon mixed dangerously with the deep hatred he felt for Dirk Kruger, the man who had kidnapped him and dragged him halfway around the world. The man who had used him like a walking encylopaedia, the man who had kept him gagged with his hands behind his back so he could use him as a bargaining chip in case ECHO got in his way again.
The man who was trapped on this boat with him… and now he was going to kill him stone dead.
Ryan crept along the portside deck, gun raised into the aim. He heard firing and ducked inside a doorway for cover, but then he realized he wasn’t the target because he could still hear shooting.
He moved forward to see Kruger blasting the hell out of the throttle controls and the boat slowed rapidly in response. The South African turned and saw him, and immediately fired on him. The bullets were wide, and pinged off the bulkhead in a shower of sparks, leaving Ryan diving for cover behind the portside wall of the wheelhouse.
He scrambled to safety and remembered once again he had only three bullets.
Make them count.
*
Reaper felt the water rush over him as he hit the ocean. The two men had become tangled in Kruger’s net and as they rolled off the boat into the sea the Frenchman suddenly understood what the South African used it for – torturing and killing his enemies.
As they went out behind the Navetta the boat dragged them along in its wake, and Corzo now started punching him hard in the face. Reaper knew only one man was getting out of this net alive, and it wasn’t going to be Carlos Corzo.
He tried to dodge the punches but the net was tangled around his neck and he found it almost impossible to move… and now they were sinking under the surface and struggling to take their last gasp of air before being totally submerged.
And now they were under.
Reaper managed to wrench his right arm free of the net and grab Corzo’s throat. He squeezed hard until he could see his eyes bulging in his skull. It wasn't hard, when it came down to it. All he had to do was think about his twin boys back in Provence growing up without a father while this piece of shit walked the streets with a panatella hanging off his smirking lip. That was enough to find what needed to be found to take Corzo out of the game.
But Corzo wasn’t going to go down without a fight, and he forced Reape
r’s hand away before wildly grabbing a fistful of the nylon net in both hands and forcing it down over his opponent’s face. He pushed down hard as if he were running a wire through a block of cheese and Reaper felt the sharp nylon cords pushing into his face, dragging down hard at the corners of his mouth and gouging the bridge of his nose.
He screamed in pain but all that came out was the air he had been trapping in his lungs. It burst from his mouth in an explosion of bubbles as he fought to get the net off his face, but now Corzo was wrapping it around his neck. The cord coiled around his neck like a snake and he felt it pushing down on his Adam’s apple. It was now he considered that he couldn’t breathe anyway because of the sea, but Corzo was making damn sure he never breathed again.
Slowly, Reaper felt his world turning black. Time was running out.
*
Ryan fired the Glock at Kruger but the round ricocheted off the control panel and lodged in the roof.
Only two bullets left.
The South African darted for the door, only just getting through before the London dropout fired another shot which also narrowly missed. It felt good, he thought, to send this man scuttling away like the stinking rat he truly was…
“I see the boy becomes a man!” Kruger called through the wheelhouse door. He raised his gun and returned fire at Ryan.
Ryan slammed himself back against the steel wall on the other side of the wheelhouse and took a deep breath.
One bullet left.
Was he doing the right thing? Maybe he just didn’t have it in him… now Kruger was fighting back and he was alone. Joe and Lea were lost in Rio somewhere hunting Saqqal and Jawad down and Lexi and Scarlet were back in the docks. As for Reaper, the last time he’d seen him he was on the back of the boat locked in hand-to-hand combat with Carlos Corzo. As far as Ryan Bale was concerned, now it was just him and Dirk Kruger… mano a mano. He started to doubt if he had it in him.
