Mayan Darkness (A Hank Boyd Adventure Book 2) (The Hank Boyd Adventures)

by Matthew James

  Frost then reaches down and grabs Dad’s shirt collar, forcing him to stand. Dad, still half in outer space, doesn’t fight him. He willingly rises and allows the killer to guide him towards the door.

  Reluctant to take the risk and open fire on the man holding my father hostage, Kane, Brooks, and I watch as Frost slips out through the door, never giving us a clean shot.

  He’s met by twin gun barrels as Nicole and Olivia get a bead on him, but they also see the situation and don’t pull the trigger.

  We exit the office a second later, guns up, and watch Frost back down the hallway towards the stairs, hand still clutching Dad’s shirt. When his heel hits the first step he pauses and looks around Dad’s head to the five of us, or more specifically Brooks.

  “Well, ladies and gentlemen,” he says, smoothly. “I bid you ado.” He then smiles and snorts a laugh. “J.R., would you be so kind…”

  My heart stops when Brooks steps forward and turns his weapon on us. “Sorry, guys, but he offered me a shit ton of money and I couldn’t say no.” Then, he glances to me. “Nothing personal.”

  “J.R.?” Kane asks, dumbfounded at the turn of events.

  He shrugs and simply says, “Sorry, Jeremy.”

  Brooks, the former friend, and teammate of Kane strides towards Frost, briefcase in hand and continues past him up the stairs. When he reaches the door, he turns and calmly says, “John, you ‘bout done?”

  Frost, now half-dragging Dad up the stairs, stops and smiles at me. “Hank, J.R. may not be doing this for any type of personal vendetta, but I am.”

  Then, as Frost shoves Dad forward down the steep steps, he levels the gun at my father’s back and pulls the trigger.

  A blood-curdling scream erupts from my mouth as a spray of blood exits Dad’s chest. Frost’s bullet, fired at point-blank range, tears through his body and sends him falling like a puppet with its strings cut. Dad lands face first and slides down the last remaining steps. He comes to a rest with his lower half still on the incline and his face and chest on the ground.

  I run to his aid and am met with gunshots as Brooks and Frost try to deter me from following. A volley of return fire erupts from behind me as the larger force of Kane and the two ladies fire back, sending the two killers sprawling out the door above.

  I reach my father and carefully flip him over, as my friends come to my aid. Dad slips in and out of consciousness, not being able to choke out a word. It’s only then when Nicole and Ben slide into view that he grits his teeth with determination and speaks.

  “Hank?”

  “I’m here,” I say through sobs, understanding the use of my preferred name. The only other time he had recently used it was in Algeria during another life-or-death situation.

  Death…

  “I’m dying, Hank,” he says, wincing at the effort.

  “No, you’ll be fine—”

  “Not from this, son.”

  Ben grips my shoulder. “Hank, he has colon cancer. He just found out last week. The doctors only gave him a few more months.”

  “But…I don’t understand—”

  “I…was going to tell you…when you got home from…the Yucatan,” Dad says, breathing heavily. The bullet must have punctured a lung. “I…” He continues, “I didn’t want you…to worry.”

  He then calmly turns to Nicole and smiles. “He loves you. You know that, right?”

  She nods, tears flowing freely as she does so. “I know,” she says, softly.

  “Take care of our boy.”

  I watch as his eyes start to close, but he starts back awake and smiles. “Dad…” I say, crying. “Please don’t…”

  But he doesn’t answer. He just lies there, eyes staring up at the ceiling above. My dad is dead, and the men responsible are on the loose. I try to get up and pursue those that have wronged me in the worst way possible, but I can’t. My legs won’t work. So instead of avenging my father, I just clutch his lifeless body and weep.

  “Kane,” I hear Nicole say through tears. “Don’t show them any mercy. If you find them, you kill them. You understand?”

  It’s then I look up and see Kane nod, never taking his eyes off the door above. He moves off, Desert Eagle drawn and marches up the stairs, two at a time.

  “Wait!” I yell, trying to stand.

  “Hank, no,” Nicole says, trying to keep me in place. But she relents when she sees the cold calculated look on my face. It must look frightening—the combined emotions I’m giving off. One of mourning and one of vengeance.

  I stand and look down to my father’s body and sniff back another round of tears. I glance to Olivia who is huddled against the wall covering her face, sobbing. Then, I turn to Nicole and Ben, both of whom are crying as well. “Stay here with him…please.” They both nod as I turn and step towards Kane.

  He places a gentle hand on my shoulder and I give my thanks with a nod of my own. “Find Brooks and get that briefcase back,” I say, inspecting my Glock. “Frost is mine.”

  35

  The Smithsonian Castle

  Washington D.C., USA

  Bullets fly and priceless exhibits are destroyed, as everyone who has a gun opens fire. Glass shatters as we pump lead into the Great Hall’s gallery just inside the front door. More than two sets of bullets return fire, making it pretty obvious that Frost did indeed have some help on the grounds.

  Must have been out back in the Haupt Garden, around the south side of the building, I think. I then spin back around the corner of the small hallway leading to the offices below.

  Kane caught one of the men by surprise and put a .50 caliber round through two display cases, a feat my Glock’s smaller ammunition wouldn’t be able to achieve. He hit the merc square in the back, killing him. It’s what started the gunfight in the first place.

  Inbetween volleys, we move out into the main hall and duck behind two separate displays, both large enough to hide our bodies from our attacker’s view…and their bullets.

  The hall’s immense size causes it to echo in the quiet calm of the morning hour, including the footfalls of our foes. This wouldn’t have been a problem a few months ago when Dad had tile floors put in, replacing the carpet from before.

  The thought of Dad paralyzes me and a tightness in my chest crushes the air from my lungs. Damnit, I think, understanding the signs of a panic attack coming. I close my eyes and breathe deeply, in and out, trying to ward off the incoming tidal wave.

  After a half-dozen or so heavy inhalations, my thoughts clear and I chance a glance behind me. I edge out around the corner of my hiding place and see a black-clad figure trying to move up closer to our positions.

  I bring up my weapon and squeeze off two quick shots. The first one misses my target, hitting a support column, but the other finds its mark and strikes the man in the leg, dropping him to the floor with a shout of pain.

  Kane’s attention snaps off the battle and to me after the shots are fired. I point to our shoes and start to remove mine. He gets the idea and does the same, giving us both a much quieter footing and therefore an advantage. We’ll just need to avoid the broken glass of the display cases as we move forward through the first floor.

  Another squeak of boots on the freshly polished floor alerts us to the advancement of two more people. This time, both of us pop up to our feet, aim, and harmoniously pull our triggers, dropping each of the mercenaries where they stand.

  A barrage of return fire greets us as we dive to the side, away from our previous cover. As I land and slide behind one of the support columns, I take a look back and see the large display case crack and fold in on itself as the last bullet from the assassin’s automatic weapons decimate it and its contents.

  The insurance company is NOT going to like that, I think, as I stand and take up position behind the pillar. Just as I get to my feet I look across the hall and see Kane do likewise, except, he’s bleeding from the right side of his face.

  A piece of glass, maybe?

  It doesn’t really matter I gue
ss, just as long as he’s okay and still able to fight, which he does just fine. Kane draws both his massive handguns and leans out to the right and advances. As he moves, he carefully squeezes off one booming shot after another, successfully pinning down the attacking force. I follow suit from the right side of the hall, but hold my fire, as we make for the center of the large room.

  The next case is as large as the one we hid behind where we entered the hall, which helps conceal my silent approach. I peek around the edge of the case, the bottom half being made of a beautifully stained wood and not a see-through glass. There are two more men crouched, hands over their heads, ducking Kane’s ear-splitting Desert Eagles.

  I don’t wait, I raise my Glock, aiming for the closest man’s head. I’m about to pull the trigger when he glances in my direction, seeing me clearly. I pull the trigger anyways, erasing the surprise off his face with one bullet, and take aim on the next man.

  He sees his comrade fall and turns to fire—but just as he’s about to fire—a massive hole erupts from his chest. Kane calmly and quietly steps out from the other side of the display, gun barrel smoking.

  I nod and stand, following the big guy north, towards the Castle’s front entrance.

  “We need to get to the car,” Kane says in a whisper. “We need more firepower. I doubt that was it.” I silently agree, thanking him for talking me into bringing the heavy hitters that I refused on the plane. But before we go any further I hold up a hand, pausing Kane. Carefully, I run back and retrieve our shoes.

  We quickly slip back into them, not needing the stealth anymore, and make our way to the set of large wooden doors ahead, and peek around them. They lay slightly ajar from what must have been Frost and Brooks’ exit to Jefferson Drive, where our car is parked.

  Not seeing or hearing anything from beyond the door, we exit but stop just outside and wait again. The guys we are after are pros, not a couple of punks, so caution is warranted.

  The front entrance is covered slightly by a porch, also made of red sandstone, and provides adequate cover. Kane silently signals for me to follow him and we descend the short set of stairs undisturbed. Reaching the curb on Jefferson Drive without incident, we step out into the open and are halfway to our Jeep Cherokee SRT8, when a smattering of rifle fire erupts around us.

  Kane shoves me forward as we roll behind the vehicle, listening as the front end of the brand new car gets pelted with lead. I groan as Kane pushes off me and pops the lid to the rear hatch, giving us access to our much-needed upgrades.

  He zips open a bag and hands me my new favorite weapon, the AA-12 auto shotgun with two spare drum mags.

  Bang. Bang. Bang.

  I flinch as the windshield is smacked with bullets, but calm down as I remember that it’s bulletproof. If it hadn’t been, I’d probably be Swiss cheese right now. Glancing back to Kane, I see him slap a magazine into a new FN SCAR and load a round into the grenade launcher attachment.

  He rails back on the loading mechanism, glances over his shoulder, and then back to me. “You ready, Junior?” His Sean Connery accent is spot on, which gets me wondering if he is as good an actor as Brooks was downstairs just a few minutes ago. The guy played us like Charlie Daniels would his fiddle.

  I shake it off, knowing him too well for him to be playing me and cock my AA-12, loading the first slug and reply with a grin, “Don’t call me Junior.”

  The Smithsonian Castle

  Washington D.C., USA

  Nicole looked down at William’s body, through tear filled eyes. She could hear the battle above and wanted desperately to run up the stairs, guns blazing, to help Hank and Kane. But, she knew leaving Ben and Olivia with William and Sophia’s bodies wasn’t right. They had both known him for a long time and respected each other.

  “Do you love him?”

  She looked up to meet Ben’s eyes, off-balanced by the questions timing. “Yes,” she replied, not hesitating. She had no idea where the answer came from, it just slipped from her lips, one hundred percent truthful.

  Ben just nodded. “William had often said how grateful he was that you had taken to his son. Hank needs someone strong supporting him right now.” He looked down to his friend. “Now more than ever.”

  A fresh stream of tears streaked down Nicole’s face as her imagination took over. She imagined herself standing at the altar with Hank, Kane to the side of him, his patent shit-eating grin plastered across his face.

  She looked at the rows of people seated in the audience watching and supporting them. Her parents glowing with love and appreciation for Hank.

  Her relationship with her father was never what you would call “healthy.” They constantly battled over her schooling and career choices. He wanted her to be a doctor like him, but she fell in love with history as a child and then with an archaeologist, her late husband, Tomas.

  After Tomas was murdered, their relationship strengthened like you’d think it would, but then she told him she was rejoining Dr. Boyd’s team and taking over Tomas’s role as a project leader. Their relationship had been on edge ever since.

  Still in her daydream, Nicole shifted her attention to the other bench, the one that would be reserved for the groom’s family, and sighed. The emptiness of the seat ripped at her soul. Both William and Alison, a woman she never had the privilege to meet, were gone, leaving Hank with no family to speak of. He had some random aunts and uncles and cousins around the country, but no one close to him. Just his friends.

  Looking back to the stairs above, Nicole removed herself from the fantasy and turned her attention back to Ben. She again glanced down at the still form between them and sniffed back another round of tears.

  “It just,” she said, releasing the tears. “It would have been nice to call him Dad.”

  This got a fresh set from Ben as he smiled. “It isn’t too late.”

  Nicole’s eyebrows raised, not understanding.

  “What I mean,” Ben continued. “Just because you lost him today, doesn’t mean you can’t still call him father tomorrow. Death doesn’t take the memory of someone away so easily.” He then smiled, a memory of some kind flashing through his thoughts. “You can still call him Dad if you want, but Hank needs to survive for that to happen.”

  Finding some resolve in his words, Nicole stood, not bothering to try and wipe the dried blood from her face and clothes. She unzipped a pocket on the outside of her Tac-Pac and removed a set of black straps. Attaching one to either side of her belt, Nicole buckled the collapsible holsters around each one of her thighs.

  “Stay with Olivia,” Nicole said as she tightened the last strap. She looked up to Ben. “Please.”

  He nodded and looked over his shoulder to the woman. She wasn’t a soldier like Kane or even an unnaturally strong-willed person like Hank. She was a normal everyday human being and she was scared to death.

  Nicole checked both Rugers, flicked off the safeties and slid them into their places, feeling a little of her inner strength come back. She straightened her posture, forcing it now, masking her feelings of hurt and dread.

  She looked back and forth between the door at the top of the steps and Ben, stopping at his gaze. Breathing a shaky breath, she turned to leave, but the other man stops her.

  “Ms. Andersson?” Ben asked, quietly.

  She looked over her shoulder but didn’t turn enough to see William’s still form again. She knew she would lose whatever courage she had just mustered together if she did.

  “Yes?”

  Ben stood. “Don’t let us lose both of them today, okay?”

  She nodded, “Ja,” and then took the stairs two at a time to find Hank.

  36

  The Smithsonian Castle

  Washington D.C., USA

  Not only did we run into more of Frost’s goons after collecting our “upgrades,” but it started to pour down rain, making visibility awful. The only reason we can see at all is because of our high-tech specs. Thankfully, Frost, Brooks, and their forces don’t have them t
oo. These are as unique a design as any.

  Kane and I decide to stick together rather than separate. I may be a lot better in a fight now than I was only a few months ago, but I still don’t trust myself fully. Plus, we are going up against more than one assailant right now. If it was strictly one-on-one, then I might be able to take care of myself.

  We round the northeast corner of the Castle, heading towards the rear of the building, and hide behind a couple of large hedges.

  “Why don’t we go back through the Great Hall and exit out the back?” I ask.

  “Because,” Kane replies, “they’ll be sure to have guys watching the back door. As soon as we step out, we’d be mowed down. Better go the long way and be safe…ish.” He says the last part with an iffy look.

  “Thanks for the reassurance, bud.”

  His plan makes sense. It would be a bottleneck in the doorway and who knows how many more await us. Might as well use the bad weather to our advantage.

  I poke my head out from behind the thick shrubbery, trying to see farther down the lawn to the rear garden. It’s hard to make out anything through the downpour, but there has definitely been someone here recently.

  “Tracks,” Kane says softly, looking at a different set of compressed footprints in the wet grass.

  A couple someones apparently, I think, seeing the second set of footprints for myself.

  Looks like Frost and Brooks went around back. Huh… I turn to Kane. “Why would they go out the front door and yet still go around back?”

  He shrugs. “Most likely luring us out back through the hall for a trap. It’s what I would do, but does it really matter?”

  He’s right, it really doesn’t matter why. It only matters that they did. We slowly step out from behind our cover and cautiously advance around the east side of the building.

  The Folger Rose Garden takes a beating as we push through it, but its beauty is going to have to take a backseat to our stealth for now. We’d be sitting ducks if we went straight through between the Castle and the Arts and Industries Building next door. So we opted for the off-the-beaten-path route and carefully traipse through the rose bushes, sticking close to the sandstone building.