by Alex Archer
In the next instant, the door lock exploded and was driven into the room beyond. The door bounced in the frame, letting Icepick know that it was free.
He grabbed the door with a gloved hand, feeling the incredible heat the detonation had left, and yanked it open. Embers spilled out in an arc.
Icepick went into the room with the Glock held before him. A lot of television shows had military and law-enforcement personnel holding their side arms in two-handed grips. Icepick had never done that. He'd learned his gun skills on video games, and the lessons had translated easily to real guns on the street.
A small lobby equipped with a desk and a phone led into the large work area behind it. The lobby door opened and a heavy-set security guard stepped through.
Squeezing the trigger, Icepick put the first two rounds through the man's belt buckle, then felt the gun rise through the next six. The security guard's shirtfront turned red, and he fell backward into the next room.
Icepick went after the man, moving into alignment with the doorway the same way he would in Halo or any of the James Bond video games. Another guard lifted his weapon and fired from ten feet away. At that range, missing Icepick was almost impossible.
Two rounds struck the Kevlar vest, slamming into Icepick's chest and causing him to stumble back. He cursed but brought the Glock up anyway, triggering a spray of bullets that caught the guard at the ankles and stitched their way to the top of his head.
Terrence was beside him as he ejected the empty magazine and slammed another one home. Terrence took aim, but two security guards fired first. Their bullets went wide of Icepick but took out three of the men crowding into the doorway. At least one of them was dead, hit between the eyes.
Then Terrence opened up and dropped both security guards. He wasn't pretty when he shot, but the reflexes were there.
Looking across the room, Icepick saw the archaeologists running toward the back door. He grinned. They weren't getting away – they were running straight for the rest of Icepick's group.
****
Annja held on to Hallinger's arm and ran toward the back door. She had no idea who the black-clad men were, but she knew that hanging around to ask questions was a bad idea.
Bullets whipped along behind her, smashing into the body bags lying on the floor. A light exploded overhead, then dropped free of its moorings and smashed against the concrete floor in a shower of glass.
The back door started to open, alerting Annja to the fact that someone was entering from the alley. She slammed against Hallinger, catching him midstride and knocking him into the wall. The air went out of him in a rush and he dropped to his knees just as bullets chopped into the wall. He ducked all the way down.
Annja went airborne as she neared the door, then crashed into it in a flying kick. The impact slammed the door hard. Two men tumbled to the ground, but four more pushed the door open in a split second.
Annja knew she couldn't run. There wasn't enough time. She pushed herself to her feet, sprang forward and grabbed the first man's arm as he took aim. Controlling the arm, using the limb as a lever and her body as a fulcrum, she wheeled and hip tossed him. The man flew across the alley and slammed awkwardly into the wall.
The man's neck snapped on impact. The brittle, crunching sound reached Annja's ears even over the sound of gunfire coming from inside the warehouse.
Annja hadn't intended to kill the man, but for the moment she was just grateful to be alive. She threw herself to the left of the next man as he fired. The flaming muzzle tore away the darkness in the alley for a moment. Bullets cut through the space where Annja had been standing. If she hadn't moved, she'd have been dead.
Holding her curled fists beside her face in a defensive position, Annja swung her right leg around in a roundhouse kick. Time seemed to have slowed down slightly as it sometimes did when adrenaline spiked her system. She knew she was really moving fast. The surprised looks on the faces of the men gave that away.
The man she kicked went down as if he'd been hit by a truck. His pistol skidded from his hand.
"Now you gonna die!" another man yelled.
Annja didn't try to figure out who spoke. Both of the remaining men were dangerous, and Professor Hallinger was still inside the building.
She took two steps and vaulted up onto a Dumpster behind the warehouse. The men turned toward her, chasing her with their bullets, knocking pieces of broken brick from the wall.
Still on the move, Annja leaped up and somersaulted in the air. She reached for the sword and the weapon filled her hand. She swung the blade at one man's pistol, knocking it from his hand in a shower of sparks.
Then she landed behind the second man. Desperate, alarm stamped on his face, the second man tracked her, firing along the warehouse wall and up into the air. His pistol emptied before he could bring it back down, but he swung it at Annja's head.
Blocking the blow with her left forearm, Annja snap-kicked the man in the groin and took the fight out of him. While he struggled to remain standing, she brought the sword hilt crashing into his forehead. He fell to the ground.
Annja turned and surveyed the alley. All of the men were down. More shots sounded from inside the warehouse.
She released the sword, dropping it back into that unknown space, then scooped up two of the pistols from the ground. Both of them had extended magazines that made them look slightly cartoonish.
Annja had taken gun-safety courses on revolvers, semiautomatic pistols and rifles. She was good with firearms but preferred not to use them. Bullets didn't recognize friend from foe, and she didn't have control over them like she did the sword once they were unleashed.
Stepping back into the doorway, she peered around the corner. Professor Hallinger had his hands lifted over his head and was slowly getting to his feet.
The African-American with the shaved skull who appeared to be the leader was talking, one hand pressed to an ear.
Radio communication, Annja realized. She knew he'd be aware that he had lost the team outside.
Two other men approached Hallinger, trailed by a third.
"Get your hands up!" the third man ordered. "Keep them up where I can see them!"
Obviously shaken, Hallinger stood his ground and kept his hands raised.
The two men closed on him. Annja let them, wanting them close enough that there could be no mistake.
"What's your name?" the man asked.
"Hallinger," the professor responded.
"Do you have the Spider Stone?"
Annja was surprised, although she couldn't think of any other reason for the men to raid the building.
"No," Hallinger replied.
Annja felt the weight of the stone in her shirt pocket. She'd grabbed it instinctively, remembering the times when dig sites she'd been on had been raided by bandits or fortune hunters.
"Where is it?" the man asked.
"I have it," Annja said as she swung around the doorway and dropped the pistols into position.
All three men tried to respond to the threat, but they were too late and they knew it.
Willing herself to be cold, remembering how the invaders had shot the security guards without warning, Annja squeezed the triggers. The pistols erupted in her hands like live things trying to escape traps. They climbed steadily as bullets tore into the three men, driving them backward in quick stutter steps. The final bullets tore into the lights, knocking two of them down in crashing heaps.
The man with the shaved head dived to the ground, followed by the two other men who remained of his attack group.
Throwing down the empty pistols, Annja caught Hallinger's arm and got him moving.
"You killed them," the professor said incredulously.
"They didn't give me a choice." Annja pushed Hallinger through the door just ahead of the fusillade of bullets that slammed into the wall after them.
In the alley, Hallinger froze for just a moment, looking down at the men Annja had left in disarray. He looked up at her. "You did
this?"
"Those men are coming after us." Annja shoved him toward the street. "Go."
Hallinger lurched into a run, then put his heart into it. His feet slapped against the pavement.
Annja reached for the sword and it was in her hand. She took up position behind the Dumpster, crouching so she couldn't be seen. Her heart thudded in her chest.
At the end of the alley, Hallinger had reached the street and was running for his life. He turned and was out of sight just as their pursuers rushed from the doorway.
Annja watched from the shadows, letting the first man pass her by. Then she lunged to catch the second man, hoping it would be the man with the shaved head. If she could get her hands on the leader, maybe the other two could be controlled.
It wasn't him. Annja caught the man's jacket with her left hand and slammed into him hard with her left forearm. The air left his lungs in a rush and he doubled over. Annja pushed him backward into the leader, sending them both down in a heap.
Twisting, knowing how precarious her position was, Annja went for the first man. He was only a few feet away, already firing at her. Quick enough to dance between lightning strikes, Annja dodged to the side. She brought the sword up in both hands with blinding speed, slapping the flat of the blade against the man's temple. Out on his feet, the man slumped to the ground.
Annja turned quickly, moving toward the last man.
He pointed his pistol at her as he got to his feet. "You're finished," he growled.
Without a word, Annja brought the sword down in a glittering arc. The keen blade smashed the pistol's body. The weapon fired, but the bullet struck the sword blade and ricocheted into the warehouse wall.
The man cursed in disbelief, staring at the ruined barrel. He tried to fire again, but the pistol had jammed. He suddenly remembered the pistol in his other hand and drew it up.
Annja gripped the sword and spun, bringing her foot arcing down on the man's wrist. Bone broke and the man cried out in pain as the gun flew from his fingers. Before he could move, Annja swept the sword around, slicing neatly through his Kevlar vest as if it were cheese.
The man looked down at the gaping cut as if expecting to see his intestines come tumbling out. They didn't. Annja knew she'd missed his body by less than an inch. She'd intended to.
"Now," she said, "would be the time to surrender."
Moving with surprising speed, the man turned and ran toward the other end of the alley. He got just enough of a jump that Annja didn't catch him until he'd reached the corner.
"Come get me! Come get me!" the man yelled.
Annja knew he was communicating with the rest of his team. As she reached the corner, she saw a big dark luxury sedan hurtling down the street. The lights pinned the fleeing man and the driver stepped on the brakes. Rubber shrieked and the vehicle slewed sideways as the driver tried to control it.
The man slowed, anticipating catching a ride.
Annja never broke stride. Her quarry turned at the last moment, his hand on the car's front fender. His eyes widened as he saw her.
She leaped, letting the sword slip away, and crashed into the man, driving him back across the hood of the oncoming car. They slid across the hood and smashed against the windshield, turning it into a frosted glaze of cracks. They rebounded and tumbled over the side.
For a moment, Annja was stunned. She wasn't strong enough to body block moving vehicles. But her quarry had fared worse. His face was a bloody mess and his right arm was bent unnaturally behind his back.
He wasn't trying to get up.
Annja struggled to get to her feet as the driver got out of the car with a pistol in his fist.
"Icepick! Man, I couldn't stop, dawg!"
"Shoot her!" Icepick ordered hoarsely.
The big man took aim.
Annja dodged, leaving the street just as the bullet scarred the pavement.
Three gunshots rang out in quick succession. The big man jerked backward. Puzzled, he glanced down, seeing the blood pouring from his mutilated neck. At least one of the rounds had torn out his throat. He slumped to his knees and fell forward.
A harsh voice boomed out, "Homeland Security! Drop your weapons! Now!"
A flashlight beam blazed out of the darkness and splashed over the car. The two men inside threw their weapons out the window.
"Ms. Creed, are you all right?"
Annja recognized McIntosh's voice then. "I am. What about Professor Hallinger?" she asked.
"He's safe. We've got him."
McIntosh closed in with three other men who were dressed in street clothes. Swiftly, they took the men into custody.
"Do you normally tackle guys into cars?" McIntosh asked.
"Kind of seemed like the thing to do at the time," Annja said. "They killed the security guards in the warehouse." She looked down at the man at her feet. "I couldn't let them get away with that."
McIntosh looked at her silently for a short time. "No. I suppose you couldn't."
****
For the second night in a row, Annja sat in the Kirktown Police Department. She sat in one of the straight-backed chairs with eyes closed.
"Hey," a soft voice said beside her.
Blearily, Annja glanced up.
A gray-haired detective with his tie at half-mast looked down at her and held out a cup of coffee. "I would have let you sleep, but McIntosh asked me to make sure you were awake. I think he's going to want to talk to you in a little while."
Annja took the coffee and gazed out the window. Full morning had dawned. Puffy clouds floated by in the blue sky outside.
"Thanks," she said.
"You're getting to be quite a celebrity," the detective said. "The guys around here are thinking about giving you an honorary police commission. You've collared more violent criminals in the last two nights than most of them have their whole careers."
"Not exactly what I'd intended to do here."
"The Homeland Security team says you tackled that guy Icepick. Put him up against a moving car."
"Who?" Annja looked at the man.
"Icepick." The detective frowned. "You didn't get his name?"
"There wasn't a lot of time for introductions."
The detective smiled. "Lady, you're about as tough as I've seen them."
"Thanks." Annja sipped her coffee and found it hot and bitter. "I think."
"It was meant as a compliment," he assured her.
"You called him Icepick."
"That's his street tag. His real name is Gani Abiola."
After a moment of reflection, Annja shook her head. "I don't recognize the name."
"He usually hangs in Atlanta," the detective said.
"What's he doing here?"
"He hasn't said. McIntosh has been with him since we brought him in. The guy lawyered up almost immediately, but he's in the system. We're not starting from scratch on this one. We'll get answers. Guys like that can't run and hide for long."
Looking across the room, Annja saw Hallinger asleep at a desk. As archaeologists, both of them had learned to sleep anywhere and any time they had the chance.
"The prof's doing okay," the detective said.
"Good. We both got lucky. But the security guards didn't."
"Looks like two of them are going to pull through," the detective said.
Part of the acidic knot in Annja's stomach came undone. "I thought they were all dead."
"So did the EMTs and our guys when they first arrived on the scene. But they weren't. That's a good thing. You learn to take those when they come." The detective looked toward the back of the room. "Here comes McIntosh."
Turning in the chair, Annja looked back and saw the detective making his way toward them. McIntosh looked frayed. He carried his cowboy hat and jacket in one hand. His pistol stood out prominently on his hip.
"Hey," he said when he reached Annja.
"Hey."
"Want to get out of here?"
Feeling more claustrophobic in the detectives' bull
pen than she had down in the furnace room, Annja stood. "I do."
"Let's collect the professor. I've got a deal for the two of you."
Suspicion filled Annja. McIntosh started toward Hallinger at once.
"What kind of deal?" Annja asked.
"The two of you are really interested in that treasure map you found on that stone, right?"
"Are you interested now, too?"
"Me?" McIntosh smiled and shook his head. "Not me. I don't believe in fairies or treasure maps."
"The map is real," Annja said.
"I believe you believe that, but from what you've said, you don't even know where to find that area on that rock."
"Not yet. But that doesn't mean we couldn't."
"That's what I told my boss." McIntosh stopped at Hallinger's side and gently shook him awake. Hallinger sat up slowly, reached for his glasses and put them on.
"Why would you tell your boss that?"
"Because he needed to know that you guys could probably find it."
"Why did he need to believe that?"
"So he could appropriate the money to send us there."
Annja stared at McIntosh.
"Your boss is sending us where?" Hallinger asked.
"To West Africa," McIntosh said. "Wherever you want to go." He looked at Annja. "If you're interested."
Chapter 14
"Let me get this right," Doug Morrell said. "You're going to West Africa to go chasing after this Spider Stone?"
"I really can't talk about it." Annja pulled on her backpack and grabbed her suitcase. She'd packed light to come to Atlanta. Now she was paying for it because she didn't have everything she wanted from her Brooklyn loft.
"You can't talk about it," Doug repeated.
"That's right." Annja took a last look around the hotel room, then stepped through the door.
"Annja," Doug whined, "this is me. You can't hold out on me."
"I can. I am."
"That goes against everything our relationship stands for."
"We don't have a relationship." Annja stopped in front of the elevators. "We have an arrangement."
