by Alex Archer
Charlie nodded. “You won’t have to wait for me. You just need to concentrate on getting those people down to the harbor. And getting your people here in their helicopters.” He paused. “I know you don’t think so, but the real danger here isn’t Salome and Saladin. It’s—”
“The sleeping king. That’s what you keep saying.”
“The horn can’t be allowed to fall into Roux’s hands.”
“That’s not exactly the problem here, now, is it?” Garin didn’t bother to hide his flaring temper. He turned his attention back to Salome’s guards.
When he stepped from the shelter of the building, Garin felt as if a sniper’s crosshairs fell over him. He was quite surprised when a bullet didn’t crash through his skull.
He walked straight for the nearest guard. The man was stationed there with a small sedan. Another guard lounged behind the steering wheel.
Be patient, Garin reminded himself. Make sure of the kills. You don’t want a bullet in the back.
The guard didn’t pay any attention to Garin until he was within twenty feet of him. By that time, it was already too late.
Garin kept moving. He managed two more long strides before the guard reached for the weapon under his jacket. Garin recognized the Ingram MAC-10 submachine pistol as it came around on a sling.
Calmly, as if he had all day, Garin lifted his pistol and fired almost point-blank into the man’s face. The shots sounded incredibly loud even against the backdrop of city noises.
As the man fell, Garin stepped to the sedan’s door and hoped the glass wasn’t bulletproof. He fired three times, centering on the driver’s face.
The guard slumped against the door. Garin opened the passenger’s door and slid across. Shouts from other guards reached his ears as he opened the driver’s door and shoved the body out.
Charlie slid into the passenger’s seat as Garin keyed the ignition and started the engine. Garin put his hand over the old man’s head to push him down below the dashboard.
“Stay down,” Garin growled. He pressed the accelerator and pulled out into the street as bullets peppered the sedan. Heart racing almost as quickly as the sedan’s engine, he glanced in the mirrors and saw that Salome’s gunmen had sprung into action.
Garin pulled up onto the sidewalk to avoid a line of cars waiting for the light to change. He crashed through an empty sidewalk café. Tables and chairs went to pieces and flew by the wayside. Something smashed into his windshield and shattered it. Crooked lines snaked across the glass.
He roared through the intersection and clipped the front end of a car when he went against the red light. But he made it. He just hoped that Annja and Roux were still alive.
ANNJA SWAM UNDERWATER to the harbor’s edge where Saladin held Roux captive.
Roux lay face-first on the ground. A man stood nearby and kept one foot lodged firmly between his shoulder blades. Amazingly, Roux somehow knew she was there. His head turned in her direction and his eyes found her in the darkness.
His lips moved but no sound came forth. He said, “No.”
Then gunfire broke out and Saladin’s warriors braced for attack.
One of the men said something in Arabic. He pointed up the street at the building near where the mosque sat. His men relaxed a little, understanding that the threat wasn’t to them.
The man spoke again, his tone indicating that he was giving orders this time. Most of the men crawled into nearby vehicles and quickly roared up the street. Evidently Saladin didn’t want to lose out on his chance to get the treasure that the Nephilim painting promised.
The man in charge returned to Roux. “You keep the company of fools, do you know that, old man?” He kicked Roux hard.
Annja had to force herself to stay in the water. Finally, the man turned his attention toward the street. Police sirens had started to mix into the sounds of battle.
Quietly, Annja eased from the water. Her clothes felt like lead. She reached for the sword and drew it to her, preferring that weapon instead of the pistol sheathed on her hip. She eased her backpack off and left it on the ground.
None of the five men looked in her direction. Only Roux watched her.
Coldly, Annja focused on the sword and the way she planned to take the attack to them. She kicked the back of the leg of the man who held Roux trapped on the ground. With his support gone, the man started to fall. He yelled in warning as he twisted and caught a brief glance of Annja.
Holding the sword blade, Annja rammed the hilt into the man’s forehead between his eyes. She knew these men were killers, but she would only kill if necessary. She had enough blood on her hands and wasn’t eager to add more.
The hilt met the man’s forehead with a dull thunk. His eyes went wide, then rolled back as he fell.
The next man turned around and swung his machine pistol toward her. She met the threat with steel, blocking the pistol, then driving an elbow into the bridge of the man’s nose. Knowing the other men were trying to track her, Annja spun and lashed out with a foot. She swept one man’s legs out from under him, and he flew backward.
The remaining two men opened fire. Annja stayed low. Their bullets chopped into the guard as he fell to the ground. By that time Annja had taken brief respite behind the truck. She flicked the sword out and cut the disposable plastic cuffs that bound Roux’s wrists behind his back.
Without a word, Roux hurled himself forward for the fallen weapon of the first man Annja had downed. A shadow drifted around the corner of the truck.
Annja stood with the sword raised in both hands.
When the man came into sight, Roux opened fire with the MAC-10. The bullets drove the man backward in short stutter steps. Then he looked down at the bright blood staining his chest in disbelief. After that he didn’t see anything at all.
Roux pointed along the side of the truck, urging Annja to get moving.
Annja gave Roux a quick nod, then went forward. There were at least two men left in the confusion of vehicles in the parking area. She’d lost track of both of them.
42
Garin dug his cell phone from his pocket, used the speed-dial function and held the instrument to his ear. “Where are you?”
“On our way, sir,” his man responded. “Our ETA is less than two minutes.” The sound of helicopter rotors provided a thundering backdrop to his words.
“Have you got GPS locks on myself and the two people with me?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then make sure you don’t shoot us in the confusion.” Garin closed the phone before the man had time to reassure him that that wouldn’t happen.
A sports car shot up next to Garin. He didn’t recognize it, but he recognized Salome sitting in the passenger’s seat. He also recognized the assault rifle she held in her deadly hands.
God, how he hated her, he thought. He’d never been able to get along with her when she’d worked with Roux. Now he wanted nothing less than her death.
Knowing he couldn’t outrun her, he stomped on the brakes just as she opened fire. The bullets beat a savage rhythm along the front end of the car, then started chipping the street.
For a moment Garin felt pleased that his surprise maneuver caught the man driving the sports car off guard. Then the left front tire, obviously punctured one or more times, unraveled and dropped the bare metal rim on the asphalt. The rim chewed into the asphalt, then dug in.
Garin knew that he’d lost control. The steering wheel jerked and shivered in his grip. The wheels locked and the car turned sideways, then flipped.
Desperate, Garin threw himself toward the passenger’s side. He put a hand over Charlie to hold the old man in place because he wasn’t wearing a seat belt. The car rolled over and over.
Finally it skidded to a stop. Garin hung upside down, trapped by the seat belt. The succession of impacts left him dazed and disoriented.
The sports car braked to a halt only a few feet away. The lights shone inside the overturned car and nearly blinded Garin. He watched helpless
ly as Salome and a man he didn’t know got out. The smell of gasoline filled the air.
A BULLET RICOCHETED from the asphalt parking area less than an inch from Annja’s left foot. She knew immediately that one of the gunners had dropped to his knees on the other side of the truck and tried to take her out by shooting her feet. She’d gotten lucky.
Annja scrambled to the top of the truck’s hood and climbed to her feet. The fast move caught the gunner off guard. Still on the ground, his gun hand thrust under the truck, the man looked up in surprise and tried to bring his weapon to bear.
Annja dropped down beside him. One kick cleared the pistol from his hands. The follow-up kick, delivered to his temple, rendered him unconscious.
She sensed the movement behind her, rather than her side. She tried to move, but what felt like a sledgehammer slammed into the side of her head. Her knees turned to rubber and nearly gave way beneath her. The sword disappeared from her lax grip.
Blood trickled down the side of her neck. She knew from the spreading warmth that she had been shot. Fear screamed through her because she wanted to know how bad the wound was. If the bullet entered her brain, could she still function?
She didn’t know the answer to that. For all she knew, she was dying. But she also knew that she could move—just not very well. She slid sideways, tried to bring the sword to her but failed. Her concentration had to be sharper. She lifted her hands before her and wondered where Roux was. He should have been in a perfect position to shoot the man advancing on her.
“You think you’re clever, don’t you?” the man demanded. Anger pulled his face into a ruthless mask. “Now you’ve gone and gotten yourself killed.”
“You were going to kill us anyway,” Annja said.
Farther up the street, the sounds of battle—gunfire and the screams of wounded people—continued.
Annja concentrated on Saladin, for she was sure that’s who he was. He was smart with the pistol. He stayed just out of reach of a punch or kick.
“I was,” Saladin said agreeably. “That old man owes me blood. No negotiations or treasures would’ve gotten him out of that. Or anyone who claimed him as a friend. All of your lives were forfeit.”
Annja struggled to clear her head and get her balance back, but the pounding pain inside her head didn’t ease. Blood continued to spill down her neck and chest. Why doesn’t Roux shoot him? Then a bad thought entered her head as she remembered that she’d left the backpack and the horn near the water’s edge.
Saladin extended his arm and took deliberate aim. Annja knew he wasn’t going to wait any longer. Risking everything, she raced at Saladin. The closer to him she got, the more he’d have to move to compensate. If she’d tried to run away, the adjustment would have been small.
She ducked and rolled, landing on her shoulder and then shoving herself up on her hands. Her left foot caught Saladin in the chest and knocked him to the ground.
The pain in Annja’s head increased. Nausea spun through her stomach. She thought she was going to be sick. Instead of neatly recovering, she rolled awkwardly and managed to get to a seated position.
Saladin had maintained his hold on his pistol. He pointed the weapon at her while he shoved himself to his feet. He didn’t try to make any last-minute death threats or promises. He was just going to shoot her until she was dead.
Annja focused on the sword, imagined it in her hand and felt it there. As soon as the familiar weight was at the end of her arm, she reversed her grip on the hilt and threw the sword like a spear.
The sword flashed across the distance and thudded home in Saladin’s chest. He staggered back, staring down at the sword in surprise.
Annja called the sword back to her. Immediately blood poured from Saladin’s body once the wound was undammed.
The pistol tumbled from Saladin’s fingers and he fell.
On her feet, sword in hand, Annja jogged to the back of the truck. But everything she’d feared was true.
Roux was gone. So was her backpack.
“GARIN, ARE YOU still alive?”
Hanging upside down in the car, Garin didn’t answer. He tried to break the seat belt lock, but it held stubbornly. Then he noticed one of the pistols he’d thrown onto the seat when he’d taken the car.
Salome knelt down and folded one arm around her knees. She held a pistol in her other hand. Her smile seemed joyful and insane at the same time.
“Good,” she said. “You’re still alive. I was worried that the crash had killed you.”
A man came to stand beside her. He held a pistol in his fist.
The sound of helicopter rotors suddenly blasted across the street. There were four of them and they made a lot of noise.
Salome and the man looked up.
Garin didn’t blame them. If he hadn’t been the cause of the helicopters being there, he probably would have looked up, too. But only after he’d killed the man he’d gone there to kill.
With a twist, Garin freed his shoulder and scooped the pistol up from the roof of the car. He hoped the safety was off as he shoved it toward Salome. She had to die first. Even if the man killed him, Garin was determined the woman wasn’t going to live another moment. Not after the way she’d betrayed Roux and nearly killed him.
His movement must have caught her attention. She looked down just as he leveled the pistol. She tried to bring her own weapon into play, but Garin squeezed off a shot that caught her in the throat.
Knocked backward by the bullet, as well as her own frightened reaction, Salome tried to scream and couldn’t. Her lifeblood poured between her fingers.
The unexpected sight froze the man in his tracks. Instead of shooting Garin, the man dived for Salome.
Mercilessly, Garin empted the clip into the man. He sprawled across Salome and held her in his numb embrace as she breathed out her last time.
Charlie popped up and Garin pointed the pistol at the old man and pulled the trigger three times. Only then did he realize the pistol was empty.
“It’s all right,” Charlie said. He slashed the seat belt with a pocketknife. “We’ve got to get out of here. We have to stop the sleeping king.”
We’ve got to get out of here before this gasoline catches fire, Garin thought. He scrambled through the smashed window, but the top had crushed slightly and the fit was tight. His efforts ripped his clothes.
When he was on his feet, he reached back for Charlie and pulled the old man through.
“Are you all right?” Garin asked as he led the old man away from the overturned car.
Without warning, the vehicle exploded and became wrapped by flames.
“I’m fine. But we need to find Annja and the sleeping king.”
All around them, door gunners mounted in the helicopters marked Salome’s men and shot them down. They did the same for Saladin’s fighters. The street became a battle zone littered with bodies.
Garin’s phone rang and he answered it. “Annja?”
“It’s Roux,” Annja gasped.
Sickness swirled inside Garin’s head. He couldn’t believe the old man was dead.
“He’s got the horn,” Annja went on.
“The sleeping king has the horn,” Charlie echoed. “We have to stop him. We have to save the world.”
“Where did he go?” Garin asked.
“He stole a boat. I couldn’t get to him in time.”
Garin looked up at the helicopters hovering overhead. “We’ll get him. Stay where you are.”
43
Annja stared helplessly as the boat chugged away from the dock. The distance was already too far for her to catch up.
Police sirens screamed. When she looked back at the city, she spotted the flaming car at the center of it. Several police cars were already on the scene. She knew others would crowd the harbor once they realized the battle had stretched that far.
Then one of the helicopters retreating from the downtown area descended overhead. It hung only ten feet above her.
Garin waved to h
er from the cargo area.
Annja jumped and caught the rope ladder, then she pulled herself up. She got herself secure and pointed at the motorboat.
Garin nodded and talked briefly over the headset he wore. The helicopter streaked after the boat and overtook it within seconds. Carefully, the pilot held his craft only a few feet above the boat.
Roux tried evasive techniques, but the craft he’d stolen was too ponderous to do much. He angrily waved them off.
Annja leaned forward into the wind, judged the distance and jumped. She landed on the boat’s deck and felt as if she’d driven her legs up into her hips. She caught herself on her hands.
A heartbeat later, Garin landed beside her. Together, they walked toward Roux.
He looks different, Annja couldn’t help but think. He was bloodied and worn. Madness danced in his eyes.
“You shouldn’t have come,” he shouted over the roar of the engine and the helicopter’s rotor wash. “You should have stayed away.”
“What are you doing, Roux?” Annja asked.
“I’m going to fix what never should have happened,” Roux declared.
Annja focused on her backpack sitting at Roux’s feet. All she had to do was get it. Not that she believed any of the nonsense about saving the world.
As if reading her thoughts, Roux revealed the MAC-10 he was holding. “If you come any closer, if you try to take the horn from me, I’ll kill you, Annja. I swear that I will.”
Annja stopped moving and spread her hands. She couldn’t believe what was happening.
Beside her, Garin froze, as well. “Are you going to shoot us, Roux?” he challenged.
“I will,” Roux said. “I’ve searched for this for over four hundred years. Ever since she died tied to that stake.” Pain pulled at his face. “It’s my fault that she died there. She wasn’t supposed to die. She was supposed to live. She was supposed to do great things. I destroyed that.”
“Joan’s death wasn’t your fault,” Annja said.
