Joe Hawke Series Boxsets 4

by Rob Jones

  Lea said, “You can look, hun, buy you can’t touch.” She waved the engagement ring in the air and the sun caught the diamonds, making them sparkle. “He’s mine now.” She walked over to the Chinese assassin and leaned into her ear, lowering her voice to a whisper. “Mine all mine, got it?”

  As she and Lexi exchanged a glance, Scarlet broke the tension. “We do this for Danny, and Magnus.”

  Hearing the names out loud stopped Hawke in his tracks. None of them had really known Magnus, and while Danny Devlin had never been a full member of the team, he’d risked his life on countless occasions to save theirs and died making sure Hawke and Ryan could board the Oracle’s airship over Biscayne Bay.

  When Lund had told him that their friend had been killed by a marked bullet his blood ran cold. When he told him there was a threat to kill other members of his team engraved on the other side, it had almost frozen in his veins. Somewhere out there, trailing them… maybe monitoring them right now was one of the world’s sharpest shooters. Knowing any of them could get shot dead at any minute by a silent, invisible killer was not an easy burden to bear at the best of times, but on a mission like this it took a lot to hold things together. And that wasn’t easy with a sniper on your tail. It was the one thing that could strike fear into any soldier.

  And things were getting more dangerous by the day. With the murder of Magnus Lund, brutally cut down right in front of them in the heart of Athens, they all knew their new enemy was getting bolder. Each of them had started looking over their shoulders in search of the phantom killer and it was starting to spook them all out, but Hawke knew the only way forward was to go without fear.

  Lexi slung her weapon over her shoulder and winked at Lea. “We ready to go?”

  “Yeah, let’s do it,” the Irishwoman said with confidence, staring up at the monastery.

  The ancient rock formation twisted up into the sky. A sheer rockface towered above them, but they were spared the problem of trying to scale it with ropes. The ancient monastery at the top had been inhabited for centuries, and in that time goat tracks had formed various winding approaches to the top.

  The climb was not easy. The towering rockface was almost vertical in places and required all the climbing skills and strength they could muster. For what seemed like an eternity, life was nothing but climbing anchors, carabiners and chalk bags while the ancient Aegean Sea churned far below them, crashing into the rocks at the base of the cliffs.

  At the top, they tucked down beside a low wall of juniper growing among some craggy boulders and got their breath back while they prepared the guns and got ready to make their move.

  Today there would be no playing games. With murdered teammates in their graves and the idols in their possession, the only thing that stood between them and the Citadel were the eight rings, and finding them meant taking back the Alexander Codex. They had the element of surprise on their side. No one knew they were here and it was dusk. The light was low and visibility was poor.

  And they were angry.

  It started when Hawke gave the sign to attack. He kicked things off and leapt over the boulders, submachine gun held tight to his body. Leading from the front, he executed a superfast crouch run and reached the monastery’s western wall unseen and unheard.

  The rest of his team were seconds behind him, armed and ready to fight as they moved through the half-light with the setting sun at their backs. When Ryan slammed up against the honey-colored stone wall, the team were all in place and ready to go inside the monastery.

  The next move was clear. A winding goat track at the base of the building led around to a shady cloister. From there, access to the interior of the monastery would be simple. They crouch ran along the track in stony silence, the only sound being the crunch of gravel chips as they headed toward the cloister with their deadly cargo gripped in their hands.

  Inside the shelter of the cloister now, Hawke signaled to the team that it was time to go inside. He led the way, vaulting over a low internal wall and then slipping through a stone archway. Gathered in a narrow corridor, it was time to divide the team. Hawke, Lea and Lexi were going to the Oracle’s quarters on the top floor and Scarlet, Ryan and Reaper were going down to the vaults. The Codex could be in either place and it was essential they hit both at the same time.

  Scarlet and Ryan stood aside as Reaper took his pump-action shotgun to the door that led down to the vaults. The rounds obliterated the old wood to sawdust and when the air cleared all that was left were three rusty hinges hanging off the door jamb.

  Scarlet was the first to breach the gloomy darkness, gun raised into the aim as she moved down the cold, stone steps toward the monastery vaults far below. At her back, Ryan also held his weapon ready for action, and behind him, Reaper took up the rear, checking no one followed them down.

  “This place is not nice, Cairo,” Ryan said.

  “Put it on Trip Advisor if you feel that strongly about it, boy.”

  Reaper suppressed a chuckle. He was too apprehensive to relax at a time like this, but it was good to know Scarlet’s notorious sense of humor was impossible to kill.

  They reached the bottom of the steps and cast their flashlights around the small, grimy place. It was cold and damp, and a foul musty smell filled the air. Ahead of them were several wooden doors.

  Then they heard it.

  “What the hell was that?” Ryan said.

  “Sounded like a ghost,” said Reaper.

  Scarlet raised her gun and stepped toward one of the doors. “It was no ghost. There’s someone behind this door.”

  Closer now, they all heard the sound of a man calling out but Scarlet couldn’t recognize the language. “What’s he saying?”

  “It’s Greek,” Ryan said. “He’s calling out for help, but it’s not good Greek.”

  “We need to get in there,” she said.

  “Are you crazy?” Ryan said. “We can’t rescue him!”

  “Why not, because his grammar’s wrong?”

  He rolled his eyes. “No, because it could be a trap.”

  “They don’t even know we’re here, Sherlock,” Scarlet said. “How could they be planning a trap?”

  “Elle a raison,” Reaper said, and smashed the door in with his boot.

  In one of the corners, a monster of a man was chained to the wall. A torn shirt revealed a chest like an iron barrel, and the muscles on his arms would have made most professional wrestlers tremble in fear.

  He looked up at them and spoke in Greek.

  “He wants to know who we are,” Ryan said.

  “You speak English?” the man said.

  “Sure do, I’m from the States.”

  Scarlet took a step closer to the man, her gun still firmly gripped in her hands. “And what the fuck are you doing in here?”

  Without batting an eyelid, he said deadpan, “I just like the feel of the chains.”

  She sighed and rolled her eyes. “All right, Mr Funny Cuts, it was a stupid question.”

  “I was rock climbing here a few days ago when these crazies burst out of nowhere with a bunch of guns and took me prisoner. They shot my buddy, Mark, when he tried to escape.”

  “Jesus,” Ryan said. “Why didn’t they shoot you, too?”

  The Texan gave a wry smile. “I never tried to escape, but what the hell they plan to do with me… I have no idea, man. Judging from the screams I hear at night, let’s just say I’m glad you guys turned up.”

  The gnarled former Foreign Legionnaire crouched beside him, his silver stubble shining in Scarlet’s flashlight beam. “You know how to shoot a gun, mon ami?”

  “Are you kidding me? I’m a tank commander! Ex 7th Cavalry out of Fort Hood, Texas. Give me a gun and watch me go, man.”

  Reaper stood back up and looked at Scarlet. “Your call.”

  Scarlet stared down at the man. Yes, it could be a trap, but that was unlikely. It was true that no one knew they were coming and if it was a trap it was ridiculously elaborate. No, he was telling
the truth, and there were always those arms to think about. Plus the hands, she thought as her eyes crawled down his arms. Bigger than boxing gloves and great muscle tone.

  She snapped out of it and thought about Jack Camacho. “All right, get the chains off him.”

  Reaper gave a Gallic shrug. “Turn your head, mon ami.”

  He blasted the chains with the shotgun and ripped them to pieces, instantly freeing the man who now picked up an old battered cowboy hat and sunglasses and got to his feet. Standing at his full height he was even bigger than he had looked when chained to the wall.

  “Thanks, guys. You saved my life. They were only feeding me once a day. I’d have been dead inside a week.”

  Ryan said, “They’re not known for their hospitality.”

  “So who the hell are they?”

  “It’s a long story,” Scarlet said. “More pertinent, darling – who the hell are you?”

  “Ezekiel Jones,” he said, holding out one of those hands. “Great to meet you, ma’am.”

  “It’s Cairo to my friends,” she said, taking the hand.

  Golly, that’s a firm grip.

  Think of Jack Camacho, idiot.

  “Friends call me Zeke.”

  “And this is Reaper and the Boy.”

  “Hey guys.”

  “Actually my name’s Ry—”

  “Listen,” Scarlet said, butting into Ryan. “Any idea where someone could hide a very valuable book around here?”

  He shook his head. “Not exactly. They had a bag over my head when they brought me down here, but maybe there’s one thing that could help. It’s pretty quiet down here and when you’re waiting for food or the shit bucket to be emptied…”

  “Oh, let’s not go there, please,” Ryan said.

  “Sorry,” Zeke said, grinning. “Anyway, locked in here you get to notice every little sound, and I can tell you guys that there’s a lot of coming and going past this cell down to the end of the corridor outside. My best guess would be if there’s anything valuable, then maybe try down there. If you need an extra pair of hands, count me on board. No one wants to blow their asses off more than I do. They killed my buddy.”

  Reaper pulled a pistol from his belt and threw it at him.

  Zeke grabbed the gun with one hand, popped the catch and slid the magazine out. “Empty.”

  “Just wanted to see if you knew how to use a gun,” the Frenchman said, tossing him a magazine.

  The Texan smacked the mag into the grip and gave them a big, broad smile full of strong white teeth. “Let’s go kick some ass.” On cue, the deep thump of an explosion boomed out high above them. “You guys didn’t come alone, did you?”

  “No,” Scarlet said. “And it sounds like the other half of our team could use our help.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Hawke dived to the floorboards and cradled his head with his arms. A shower of debris from a grenade explosion rained down over him as he now rolled to the cover of an archway a few yards to his right. He was swiftly followed by Lea who now slammed into his side while Lexi was further back along the corridor providing cover fire from her handgun.

  “Gotta love these days,” Lea said. “Something to tell the kids.”

  Hawke spun his head around to her, a startled look on his face. “Wait, you’re not…”

  “No,” she said, rolling her eyes. “But it’s great to know that when I am you’ll have the same look on your face as you did when Klaus Kiefel attacked Washington.”

  Another round of gunfire stopped his reply, and looking ahead he saw the Athanatoi slam the Oracle’s door shut. “We’ve got to get in there!” he called out.

  Lexi sprinted over to them and they fired on the door together, blasting the lock to hell.

  Hawke tried the handle but it wouldn’t budge. “They’ve pushed something up against it!”

  “What is it?”

  He peered through one of the gaps in the wooden panel blasted out by the gunfire. “Looks like a bookshelf or something.”

  “Meanwhile Otmar Sodding Wolff is getting away with the Codex!”

  Hawke shoulder-barged the cabinet out of the doorway as a hail of automatic gunfire ripped the piece of furniture to pieces. He crashed to the floor on top of it and landed in a carpet of splintered wood and smashed glass. Momentary surprise at his recklessness stunned the Athanatoi, giving him the half-second he needed to propel himself away from the danger with a classic parkour forward shoulder roll.

  Bullets nipped at his heels as he came out of the roll at high-speed and dived behind the cover of an upturned leather sofa running along the far wall. His bravery had paid off just as he had planned. Drawing the cultists’ fire gave Lexi and Lea the time they needed to fall in behind him and break away to the right and left.

  Lea was first onto the fray, taking on a monk in black robes while Hawke and Lexi kept his associates pinned down with cover fire. The man was a skilled fighter, and she was instantly reminded of all those years she had wasted improving her Tekken skills. As he spun through the air, his black robes billowed out behind him like shadows, and then his boot was almost in her face.

  She yanked her head back to dodge the blow and reached for her gun but it was too late.

  The man used the momentum of spin and twisted at the waist as he came back to earth. Bringing his hand around like a scythe, he belted the gun from her grip and it flew across the room and out of an arched window.

  Now he was still again, squaring up to her and confidently assuming the ready stance. He raised his right arm and beckoned for her to come closer. “Fight!”

  She shook her head. “Christ, it’s not actually Tekken, you know!”

  He narrowed his eyes, confused, and then she struck. Firing a feint strike with her left hand while powering her right hand into his jaw.

  He ducked, but too slow. The impact of bone on bone was hard, and she felt her knuckle crack and her finger dislocate as the acolyte staggered back a step and fought to regain his balance.

  Behind her, Hawke was still using cover fire to keep a number of monks from entering the room while Lexi was now pounding another cultist with a brutal remorselessness. She quickly gained the upper hand and never relented, powering blows into his face and stomach until he fell down and knocked himself out when his skull hit the tiled floor. Spinning, she saw Lea struggling with the other man in black robes, and she ran to help her.

  “Thought you could do with some help,” she said.

  “Thanks,” Lea said. “I think maybe I’m getting too old for this.”

  The two of them went to work on the acolyte, attacking from different angles as he fought hard to fend them both off. But it was an impossible task, and they soon got the better of him, with Lea hammering him hard until his eyes rolled back into his head and he toppled backwards and crashed into the table behind him.

  Hawke fought the others back and wedged the door shut with the upturned sofa. “That won’t keep them out for long,” he said, running deeper into the room in search of the Oracle’s escape route. Up ahead was a double-door, which now swung open to reveal two more men in black robes holding submachine guns. They each opened fire, spraying the room with lead and sweeping their weapons from side to side to make sure none of the enemy survived.

  Lea and Lexi were far enough back to dive behind two large stone support columns but Hawke was directly in the line of fire. Thinking on his feet, he tipped up the colossal briefing table in the middle of the floor and crouched down behind it as the bullets pelted and ripped and pinged all around him.

  “Sometimes I ask myself exactly why I do this,” he muttered, ducking his head down just in time to avoid a speeding bullet.

  “You love it really!” Lea slammed down beside him, and Lexi a moment later.

  Gunfire chattered away somewhere below them deep inside the monastery.

  “Sounds like someone got on Cairo’s bad side.” Lexi ducked her head down as she reloaded her gun, steeling herself for more action but momentari
ly distracted by the sight of the steel fingernails on her left hand. Every time she looked at them, she saw Pig’s face and the pliers in his sweaty hands. She hated it, and she wondered how long it would be before she could finally banish the ghost of his chubby face from her mind.

  When the shooting stopped, they took a second to get their bearings. Peering over the table, Hawke saw the men were gone, and he got his first proper look at the room. The Oracle’s private suite was dominated by an enormous, formal room that might have looked more at home in the Vatican than a monastery on a Greek island.

  A series of high, arched windows punctuated one of the walls and gave a breathtaking view of the sun setting over the Aegean Sea. The other wall was decorated with original artworks, some of which he recognized as masterpieces of Rembrandt and Caravaggio and standing in front of them in stony silence was a series of statues from the ancient world – Poseidon, Amphitrite, Mars, Odin, Osiris, all the way down to the end.

  But there was no sign of the man himself, or any of his guards.

  Lea raised her head from behind one of the upturned tables. “Where the hell did they go, Joe?”

  “Bugger knows,” he called back. “But they went that way!”

  CHAPTER SIX

  He scrambled to his feet and dusted himself off as he sprinted toward the double doors at the far end of the room. With Lea and Lexi at his back, he ran into the other room and was met with a meaty fist to the center of his face.

  He felt his head jerk backward and fought hard to stay conscious. He blinked a couple of times and through the stars he saw another fist rapidly approaching. This time he ducked and the fist smashed into the wooden paneling of the door behind him.

  The man in robes grunted as he withdrew his grazed and shattered fist, but before he had time to survey the damage Hawke delivered a hefty headbutt into the middle of his head and splattered his nose across his face.

  This got more than a grunt, and the howling man now cradled his head in his hands and scuttled away before the Englishman caused any more damage. But there was no break in the fighting, and now two more men in black robes flew through the air and landed right in front of them.