by Rob Jones
As she continued to study it, Hawke walked to the window and looked down the long, cobblestone footpath leading up to the museum. Clouds were gathering on the horizon and beneath them countless visitors made identifying potential mercs a hard job.
Ryan said, “I’ve looked at it too and as far as the age is concerned, I think it predates just about anything you’ll have here at the museum, but beyond that I’m struggling, especially with the lettering.”
She weighed his words and was clearly impressed. “I’ll start by telling you that this lyre is without a doubt the oldest I have ever seen in my professional life, and in my line of work that’s saying something. There’s Hellenistic, there’s Classical, there’s Minoan, and then there’s this. In my estimation this comes from the very dawn of the bronze age, making it at least around five thousand years old.”
“That recent?” Ryan said, grunting in pain when Lea elbowed him in the ribs.
“How can you tell, professor?” she asked, giving Ryan a sideways glance.
“With wooden objects we can be more certain thanks to radiocarbon dating, but sadly when assessing metalwork we can’t be as precise. However, the fact it’s made of bronze means it was made before the discovery of how to produce iron, plus some of the design work and the religious references also help in the assessment.”
“And the letters?” Ryan asked.
Jazmin gave him a resigned shrug. “They’re odd, but not completely unknown to me. They remind me a great deal of Cretan hieroglyphics, only so much cruder.” She thought about what she had said for a moment, and then raised the lyre closer to her face as she peered down at it through her glasses. “Similar symbols are also etched into the rear of the soundbox, see here?”
Lea leaned in. “They’re very faint.”
Holding the ancient instrument by the tailpiece and crossbar, Jazmin nodded in agreement and gave a wistful sigh before looking up to her with a frown on her face. “Where did you get this piece?”
Hawke stepped up. “It was discovered yesterday in the Aegean. Brought to the surface by a diving team working for a Belgian treasure hunter and antiquity collector by the name of Guy Francken.”
She looked at him sharply. “Just yesterday?”
He nodded. “But he’s not giving us the full story. He says this is dangerous but won’t elaborate. Can you help us?”
She paused a beat and took a long, deep breath. “There are rumours, legends really,” she began quietly. “Legends about the existence of Hades.”
Hawke and Lea caught one another’s eye, then the battle-worn Irishwoman turned back to the Hungarian archaeologist. “As in hell?”
Jazmin shrugged. “This depends on how you want to translate the concept of Hades.”
“Why don’t we start with your translation?” Hawke said.
“Hades was originally a god in the ancient Greek religion. He was king of the Underworld which also shared his name.”
“So Hades was both the king of the Underworld and the Underworld itself?” Lea asked.
“Yes. And crucial to the understanding of Hades the place is the rivers. The ancient Greeks believed there were six rivers that could be seen both in our world and in the afterlife. The most famous of these is the Styx.”
“Even I have heard of that one,” Lea said.
“They believed that the Underworld’s entrance was guarded by the personifications of various human conditions – grief, disease, old age, anxiety, need, agony and so on. To get into the Underworld, you would of course have to go through one of these states.”
“But where was this entrance?” Hawke said. “Not that I’m planning on going on a weekend break there or anything.”
“No one knows,” Jazmin said. “And most don’t believe it even exists.”
“But you do.”
She hesitated again. “I have an open mind. I am not about to destroy my reputation in the academy by saying I believe in Hades, but saying I believe in a place that the ancients called Hades is different, no?”
“All the same to me, doc,” said Lea.
A short tap on the door and Jazmin called the person in. They turned to see Nikolai step into the office’s tense atmosphere and walk calmly over to Hawke. Glancing at Jazmin and back to Hawke, he flicked his head to indicate he wanted to speak with the Englishman in private.
“Excuse me, professor,” Hawke said, and walked with Nikolai outside into the corridor.
“We’ve got a problem.” The Russian’s voice was a whisper, but strong and level.
“What’s up?”
“A Yukon just pulled up in the parking lot. Looks like they’re heading for the main entrance.”
“Dimitrov’s thugs or the Blood Crew?”
“I think a mix of both, so take your pick. Either way there’s going to be big trouble.”
Hawke stepped back into the office and gave Lea and Ryan a knowing look they instantly understood. Turning to Jazmin, he said, “Is there another way out of here beside the main route at the end of the corridor?”
She gave a hesitant nod. “A fire door. It’s on the way to the main office in the opposite direction – but why?”
“We’ll do a Q & A session later, but for now that’s where we’re going.” He snatched up the lyre, stuffed it in the hessian sack and walked back over to the door. Peering outside and checking the coast was clear, he looked over his shoulder and gave her a reassuring smile. “I don’t want you getting hurt.”
“Might be too late to avoid that,” Ryan said.
“I need my computer and my flash drive,” Jazmin said, snatching up a laptop case.
Ryan held out his hand. “I’ll carry it for you. You might need to run.”
She hesitated, and then handed it over to him. “I don’t believe this is happening.”
Scarlet, Reaper and Kamala turned the corner and appeared in the corridor, guns drawn and walking at full pace toward them.
“Another Yukon just pulled up,” Scarlet said. “And the problem is, there are hundreds of visitors all over the place, Joe. We start a shooting match in here and innocent people are going to get killed.”
Jazmin gasped. “We must call the police at once!”
“It’s too late for that,” Lea said. “We need to get back to the cars.”
The Hungarian ran a panicked hand through her hair and tried to calm herself. “Just how dangerous are these people?” she asked.
They heard the sound of people screaming at the end of the staff corridor, and then what sounded like a stampede. Then they saw shadows streaking along the corridor as their pursuers drew closer. When they turned the corner, Kashala and Mukendi were at the vanguard, Kalashnikovs slung over their shoulder.
“About that dangerous,” Ryan said.
Scarlet drew her gun. “Guess that explains the screaming.”
“Not here, Cairo,” Hawke said. “We need to draw them away from the museum.”
Padding along the corridor, Kashala pulled the weapon from his shoulder and pointed it at them. “ECHO! Return what you stole and I will let you live!”
“Is he for real?” Kamala asked.
Lea started to walk backwards to the fire exit. “As real as any other nightmare.”
They watched the men striding down the corridor and reaching for their weapons. “Channelling the Reservoir Dogs aesthetic,” said Scarlet. “If only they could pull it off it would be so much more impressive.”
“Come on,” Ryan said. “We still have a chance to get out of here without any shooting.”
Scarlet snorted. “Aww, you’re so cute.”
Hawke drew his gun but kept the safety catch on. Still walking together, they made their way along the corridor when Lexi jogged over to them from the other end. “Another car has just pulled up around back in the staff parking lot.”
Lea squeezed her gun’s grip and feared the worst. “Then we’re surrounded.”
“Hawke!” The Congolese mercenary spat the word out like it was curse. “Hand
it over. I know who you are.”
“And we know who you are,” Hawke called back.
“Then you should be terrified.”
Behind him, Crombez gave Reaper a look, but the Frenchman ignored it. Then the Congolese general opened fire, raking automatic bullets along the floor and blasting the tiles to pieces.
When Hawke brought up his Glock and returned fire, Jazmin Benedek screamed and clamped her hands over her ears. Her world of quiet academic enquiry had been savagely blasted away and replaced by gun smoke and nine mil jackets spitting out of an ejector port inches from her head.
Realizing they were dangerously exposed, Hawke grabbed Jazmin by the arm, located the fire door she had described and dragged her over to it. “We’re out of here.”
And then all hell was unleashed.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
With bullets ripping into the fire door and licking up the smooth plaster wall behind it, they sprinted down the utility corridor as if the devil himself was on their tails.
“This way!” Jazmin screamed. “This leads to a loading bay used to deliver some of the heavier pieces.”
They burst out into the stark light of day, slammed shut the fire door and got their bearings. “We’re parked around here,” Lea said. “Hurry!”
A heavy thump as Mukendi booted open the external fire door and screamed insanely at the sky. “I see them, King!”
As Kamala reluctantly pulled her weapon and put her body between Jazmin and the mercs at their backs, Hawke saw their SUVs through a hedge. Zeke was in the driver’s seat of one and Camacho was at the wheel of the other, arm hanging out of the window. When the Blood Crew started firing on them across the loading bay the former CIA agent snapped to alert and fired up the engine. Hitting the gas hard, he powered his SUV across the parking lot, smashed through the hedge and swerved to a halt in between the rest of ECHO and the Blood Crew.
Zeke immediately followed suit, ramming his Escalade through the hedge and screeching to a stop beside Camacho.
“Get in!” the Texan yelled.
Camacho leaped out of the driving seat and opened his side door. “Let’s get out of here!”
Hawke swung open the side door on the other Escalade. “Everyone in the cars!”
Lea ducked to avoid a bullet. It traced over her head, and punched a crude hole in the rear panel of the idling vehicle. Another bullet ricocheted off the Escalade’s driver’s wing mirror and tore through Zeke’s upper arm.
“Holy shit!” he cried out in pain. “Fucker bit me!”
“You okay?”
“Sure. It’s just a flesh wound!”
Hawke swung open his door, turned and raised his Glock. Using the door for cover he emptied his mag all over Kashala and the rest of the Blood Crew. “Move over, Zeke!”
The Texan gripped his bloody arm and clambered over the console between the two front seats. “She’s all yours, Hawke!”
Hawke moved to climb into the Escalade. A scream in Hungarian echoed off the high brick walls of the museum’s loading bay – when he scanned the area to locate it, he saw Chumbu and Demotte dragging Jazmin Benedek away toward the other parking lot.
“What the hell happened?”
And then he saw it.
Kamala Banks was lying unconscious on the asphalt behind Camacho’s Escalade.
“Everyone into the cars, now!” Hawke sprinted around behind the two SUVs until he had reached Kamala. Picking her up in one powerful lift, he hefted her over his shoulder and carried her back to the cars, bullets nipping at his heels with every pace.
Lea stared through the windshield, now pock-marked and punctured with bullets and saw the horror unfolding across the loading bay. The young Hungarian woman was kicking and screaming until Chumbu delivered a chunky backhand slap and knocked her out cold.
“They’ve got Jazmin!” Lea called out. “We have the lyre but they’ve got Jazmin!”
Hawke revved the Escalade and signaled to Camacho through the window to get going. “We can’t let them take her. We all know what they’ll do to her to find out what she knows about the lyre. They’re going to take her around to the Yukons so we have to head them off!”
With Hawke in the lead, they raced around to the main parking lot. The sound of squealing tires alerted them to the arrival of another Yukon which now swerved to a halt beside the Blood Crew’s other vehicles.
Seeing Kashala and the rest of his team piling out of the museum and heading across the lot toward their getaway cars, Hawke leaned his arm out of the window and fired on them, instantly striking Kashala in the upper arm.
“Was that for me?” Zeke said with a smile. “You guys!”
Hawke said nothing, firing again on the Congolese mercs as their general spun around and dropped to the floor like a sack of potatoes.
“Did you kill him?” Lea asked.
“No such luck – just winged him.”
Now, several heavily armed mercenaries wearing tactical vests and multiple weapons holsters emerged from the vehicles and took up defensive positions until a horseshoe perimeter had been formed around Kashala.
Chumbu and Demotte pulled Jazmin into one of the Yukons while two of the other men sprinted over to their wounded leader. Around them, the Blood Crew opened a savage fusillade of cover fire over their heads. From what he could see from the multi-position adjustable stock and dioptric sights, Hawke thought they looked like the latest Kalashnikov AK-308s.
In an impressive display of speed and bravery, two mercs dragged Kashala to his feet and hooked each of his arms over their shoulders. Under an umbrella of relentless cover fire, the two men carried their leader over to the back of a Yukon and bundled him inside. With the boss safe, one slammed the rear door down while the other spun around and fired again. Sweeping the muzzle of his rifle back and front, his face was illuminated in red and white lighting from the muzzle flash.
Now Kashala was in the back of the Yukon, the rest of the mercs pulled back fast, leaping into the two other SUVs and slamming their doors. The vehicles sped away in a cloud of dust and gas fumes.
Hawke knew he had seconds to take at least one of them out. By now, Kashala’s SUV was too far away and partially obscured by the backup vehicles. These men knew what they were doing and they did it fast. He calculated that if he couldn’t bring the boss down, then one of the other Yukons would pay half the fine.
Selecting burst mode on the Glock 18, he aimed at the Yukon in the rear, raising the handgun into the aim and taking his time as he lined up the shot. Crosshairs planted on the right rear-tire he fired the preset three-round burst and ripped the rubber right off the rim.
The explosion of the rear right tire sent the heavy SUV swerving off to the side, just as Hawke knew it would. He was ready. Without hesitation, he swung the gun to the left and fired another three-round burst into the left-hand tire. It exploded into another shower of shredded rubber and now the SUV was running on its rims at the back and spewing wild jets of orange sparks out across the blacktop.
The wounded Yukon swerved and skidded for a few seconds before leaving the road and crashing into a concrete barrier. It came to a smoking, smouldering stop and when the doors opened, the dazed mercs spilled out into the day. Some carried weapons but others were empty-handed. It didn’t matter. The vehicle burst into flames and a colossal, chest-thumping explosion followed a second later.
Hawke shielded his eyes from the heat and light, guessing it must have been a ruptured fuel line, a leak, just a spark… and then it was all over and the mercs were dead. He swivelled the gun around to the second Yukon only to see it screeching around the corner and vanishing from sight.
“They’re getting away, Joe!” Lea said. “We can’t let them take Jazmin! She hasn’t finished decoding the lyre!”
“Getting away,” he said, revving the Escalade. “Not got away. Let’s get on it!”
Racing over a bridge crossing the Danube and hitting the eastern part of the city, Hawke hit the throttle and the Cadillac
surged forward. As the rev counter needle swept almost all the way over to the right, he spun around another street corner, eyes fixed on the fleeing Yukon. They gained speed and reached fourth gear when he stamped on it a second time and sent the automatic gear box changing down again for the next corner.
“He really wants that lyre,” Hawke said.
“That’s because he really wants to discover Hades!” said Lea.
“You’re being too hard on him,” Ryan said. “From what I’ve seen of him so far it might be possible he just has a keen amateur interest in ancient Greek lyric poetry.”
“Thanks for that, Ry,” Lea said. “But shut up now.”
“Simply lightening the mood with a dash of sarcastic observation.”
“If you really wanted to lighten the mood,” Scarlet said. “Why not try opening the car door and jumping out?”
“Ouch, Cairo Sloane.” Ryan leaned back in his seat and placed his hands over his heart. “No one has ever cut me so deep. I’ll never quip again.”
“Thank heavens for small mercies,” Lea muttered.
In the rear seat, a dazed Kamala was gaining consciousness. “What the hell happened?”
“No time to explain now,” Lea said.
Hawke piled the SUV forward, crashing through a fence and ploughing down a steep embankment until they reached the next road.
Scarlet leaned out of the window, raising her gun and firing on the second Yukon. The initial burst of rounds was wide, smacking the asphalt and ricocheting off in every direction. Ignoring Ryan’s cynical congratulations, she aimed and fired again.
The first round ripped the paint off the rear right wheel arch and carried on its way. The second punched a hole through the rear window and reduced the rest of it to an opaque mess of spider-fractures. The third went through the driver’s skull and killed him instantly.
“Good shot!” Lea said.
“Not so sure about that,” Hawke said.
The swerving Yukon smashed into a traffic light pole and spun around hard, tipping on its side and skidding to a halt right in front of them.
