“We don’t have the time to look after prisoners,” said Barber.
“We can’t just kill him in cold blood!” said Hawk.
Barber smiled. “Sure we can. I’ll do it, if you’re squeamish.”
He moved closer to the mercenary, and Hawk stepped forward to block his way. The prisoner looked at them both frantically.
“Barber’s right,” said Winter slowly. “We can’t take him with us, and we can’t risk him escaping to warn the others.”
“He surrendered to us,” said Hawk. “He surrendered to me. And that means he’s under my protection. Anyone who wants him has to go through me.”
“What’s your problem, Hawk?” said Barber. “Got a soft spot for mercenaries, have we? It didn’t stop you from carving up this young fellow’s friends and colleagues, did it?”
“That was different,” said Hawk flatly. “Isobel and I kill only when it’s necessary, to enforce the law. And the law says a man who has surrendered cannot be killed. He has to stand trial.”
“Be reasonable, Hawk,” said Winter. “This scum has already killed the Gods know how many good men just to get in here, and he was ready to stand by while defenseless hostages were killed one by one! The world will be a better place without him, and you know it. Talk to him, Fisher.”
“I agree with Hawk,” said Fisher. “I’ll fight anyone dumb enough to come at me with a sword in his hand, but I don’t kill helpless hostages. And isn’t that what he is? Just like the ones we’ve come to rescue?”
“I don’t have time for this!” snapped Winter. “Barber, kill that man. Hawk, Fisher; stand back and don’t interfere. That’s an order.”
“Come here, friend,” said Barber to the sweating mercenary. “Cooperate, and I’ll make it quick and easy. If you like, I’ll give you back your sword.”
He stopped as Hawk and Fisher stood side by side between him and the mercenary. “Back off,” said Fisher flatly.
“We only kill when we have to,” said Hawk to Winter, though his eyes never left Barber. “Otherwise, everything we do and everything we are would be meaningless.”
“You’ve got soft, Hawk,” said Barber, his voice openly contemptuous. “Is this the incredible Captain Hawk I’ve heard so much about? Sudden death on two legs, and nasty with it? One should never meet one’s heroes. They’re always such a disappointment in the flesh. Now get out of my way, Hawk, or I’ll walk right through you.”
Hawk grinned suddenly. “Try it.”
At which point the mercenary took to his heels and ran up the stairs as though all the devils in Hell were after him. Hawk and Barber both charged after him, with Fisher close behind.
“Stop him!” yelled Winter. “Damn you, Hawk, he mustn’t get away, or all the hostages are dead!”
Barber pulled steadily ahead of Hawk as they pounded up the stairs. Hawk fought hard to stay with him, but it had been a long, hard day. His stamina was shot to hell, and his legs were full of lead after climbing up the drain. Fisher ran at his side, struggling for breath. Somehow they managed to at least keep Barber and the mercenary in sight. There was a door at the top of the stairs, standing slightly ajar, and Hawk felt a sudden stab of fear as he realized that if the mercenary could get to it first, he could slam it in their faces and lock them in the cellar while he spread the alarm. Winter would be right. He would have thrown the hostages’ lives away for nothing. His face hardened. No. Not for nothing.
The mercenary glanced back over his shoulder, saw Barber gaining on him, and found an extra spurt of speed from somewhere. He’d almost reached the door when it flew open suddenly, and Wulf Saxon stepped through to punch the mercenary out. He flew backwards into Barber, and the two of them fell sprawling in a heap on the stairs. Hawk and Fisher stumbled to a halt just in time to avoid joining the heap, and looked blankly up at Saxon. He smiled at them charmingly.
“I take it you’re here to rescue the hostages. So am I. From the look of things, I’d say you needed my help as much as I need yours.”
They bundled the unconscious mercenary into a convenient closet on the ground floor, and then found an empty room to talk in. MacReady stood in the doorway, keeping an eye out for Madigan’s patrols, while the rest of the SWAT team sank gratefully into comfortable chairs, ignoring his visible irritation. Saxon leaned casually against the mantelpiece, and waited patiently for them to settle themselves. Barber and Hawk had exchanged some pointed looks, but had declared an unspoken truce for the time being. They listened silently with the rest of the team as Saxon brought them up to date on what had been happening in Champion House. Fisher whistled admiringly when he finally stopped.
“Twenty-seven men in twenty minutes. Not too shabby, Saxon. But the last time I saw you, you’d just escaped from Messerschmann’s Portrait, stark naked and mad as a hatter, and were busily attacking everything in sight. What happened?”
Saxon smiled. “I wasn’t really myself at the time. I’m a lot calmer now.”
“You still haven’t explained where you got that honour guard’s uniform from,” said Winter. “You’re not telling us you came by that honestly, are you?”
“We’ve got about five minutes before Madigan kills the next hostage,” said Saxon. “Let’s save the interrogation till later, shall we? They’ve already killed one girl; I’m damned if I’ll stand by and let them murder another. Now, I’m going to stop Madigan, with or without your help, but it seems to me the hostages’ chances for survival would be a lot better if you were involved. Right?”
“Right,” said Hawk, getting to his feet. “Let’s do it.”
“I’m the leader of this team, dammit!” Winter jumped to her feet and glared at Hawk. Then she turned to face , Saxon. “If you want to work with us, you’ll follow my orders. Is that clear?”
“Oh, sure,” said Saxon. “But first, may I suggest you swap your clothes for those of the mercenaries you just killed? I don’t know what you people have been doing, or what that stuff is you have all over you, but it’s bound to raise awkward questions. Besides, you all smell quite appalling, and there’s always the chance we might want to sneak up on someone. Now let’s hurry, please. Some poor hostage is running out of time.”
Winter nodded stiffly, and led the SWAT team back into the cellar to change their clothes. Saxon stayed at the top of the stairs and watched the corridor for Madigan’s people. Typical Guards. Here he was trying to help, and they were trying to nail him for stealing an honor guard’s uniform. Typical. The last he’d heard, when someone wanted to join the Guard they made him take an intelligence test—and if he failed, he was hired. Still, they had their uses. He’d use them to get the hostages clear, but then he was going after Todd and Madigan, and to hell with anyone who got in his way, mercenary or Guard.
The SWAT team came back up out of the cellar, wearing their new clothes, and Saxon had to hide a smile. Despite a lot of swapping back and forth, their new clothes mostly fitted where they touched. They each wore their black iron torcs ostentatiously, in the hope other mercenaries would look at them first, and the clothes second. They’d cleaned themselves up with spit and handkerchiefs as best they could, but it hadn’t been all that successful, especially in Hawk’s case. But given the look on Hawk’s face, Saxon didn’t think too many people would challenge him about it.
“All right, this is the plan,” said Winter finally. “We haven’t time for anything complicated, so we’ll make it very basic. Our mission is to rescue the hostages, so their safety comes first. We’ll split into two teams. Team One will infiltrate the parlour, as mercenaries. Team Two will cause a diversion outside. When the real mercenaries go to investigate, Team One will kill those mercenaries remaining in the room and then barricade the parlour, thus sealing off the hostages from the terrorists. Team Two will then get the hell out of Champion House, and tell the army to come in and clean this place up. Anyone have any problems with that? Hawk?”
“Yeah,” said Hawk evenly. “When the terrorists figure out what’s happening, t
hey’re going to hit the parlour with everything they’ve got. How the hell is Team One supposed to keep the hostages alive until the army gets there?”
“You’ll think of something,” said Winter. “According to your file, you and Fisher specialise in last-minute miracles. Besides, you’ll have Barber to help you.”
Hawk looked at Fisher. “I just knew she was going to say that. Didn’t you just know she was going to say that?”
“What’s this about a file?” said Fisher. “Did you know we were in a file?”
“What kind of diversion did you have in mind?” asked Saxon. “These men are professionals. I’ve got them all nicely stirred up, but they wouldn’t leave their posts guarding the hostages for just anything.”
“They’d abandon their own families for a chance at you,” said Winter. “You’ve scared them, and mercenaries don’t like being scared. Don’t worry, Saxon; you’ll make excellent bait for our trap.”
Never trust a bloody Guard, thought Saxon, nodding politely to Winter. “Shall we go? The deadline for the hostages must be getting dangerously close.”
“Of course. If Madigan chooses the wrong hostage to kill, there could be all kinds of political repercussions. Let’s go.”
“You’re all heart, Winter,” said Saxon.
They made their way through the largely deserted House without attracting too much attention. The mercenaries were watching for attacks from outside rather than from within, and only those in the parlour knew what Saxon actually looked like. Winter hurried along, saluting officers with brisk efficiency and glaring at anyone who tried to speak to her. Saxon strolled along beside her as though he owned the place. The rest of the team did their best to look unobtrusive, while still keeping their hands near their weapons at all times. They reached the main parlour without being challenged, and Winter, Saxon, and MacReady hung back at the end of the corridor to let the others go on ahead.
Hawk looked at Barber. “I’ll handle the talking. Right?”
“Sure,” said Barber. “That seems to be what you’re best at.”
Hawk gave him a hard look, and then strolled casually up to the mercenary at the parlour door. “Any trouble inside?”
“No, they’re quiet as mice. Why? You expecting trouble?”
“Could be. Madigan will be here in a minute to select the next victim. We’re here to help make sure things go smoothly this time.”
“Glad to have you,” said the mercenary, pushing open the parlour door. “You hear what that rogue guard did to us?”
“Yeah. Better keep an eye open; he might turn up here again.”
“I hope he does,” said the mercenary grimly. “I hope he does.”
Hawk and Fisher strolled casually into the parlour and took up positions by the buffet table. Barber leaned against the wall by the door. Hawk’s stomach rumbled loudly at such proximity to food, but he ignored it, trying to take in as much of the situation as he could without being too obvious about it. There were sixteen mercenaries, scattered round the room in twos and threes, and fifty-one hostages, including the two Kings. Most of the hostages looked scared and thoroughly cowed, but there were a few military types here and there who looked as though they might be useful when the action started.
Hawk frowned slightly. Once the mercenaries in the parlour realized they were under attack, the odds were they’d try and grab the most important hostages to use as bargaining points; and that meant the two Kings. They had to be protected at all costs. Winter had been very specific about that. According to her orders, all the other hostages were expendable, as long as the two Kings came out of it safe and sound. Hawk had nodded politely to that at the time, but as far as he was concerned the Kings could take their chances with everyone else. They knew the job was risky when they took it. Still, it might be a good idea to get a message to them, so that their own people could protect them once the fighting started.
He nodded for Fisher to stay where she was, and headed casually towards the two Kings at the back of the room. Team One was now pretty much in position: Barber by the door, ready to slam and barricade it, Fisher covering the middle of the room, and Hawk by the Kings. Everything was going according to plan, which made Hawk feel distinctly nervous. In his experience, it was always when a scheme seemed to be going especially smoothly that Lady Fate liked to step in and really mess things up. Still, he had to admit he couldn’t see what could go wrong this time. They’d covered every eventuality. He stopped before the two Kings, and gave them his best reassuring smile. Both monarchs ostentatiously ignored him, while the nearby Quality glared at him with undisguised loathing. Hawk coughed politely, and leaned forward as though studying the Kings’ finery.
“Don’t get too excited,” he murmured, his voice little more than a breath of air, “but help has arrived. When the excitement starts, don’t panic. It’s just part of a diversion to lure away the mercenaries. My associates and I will take care of those who remain, and then barricade the room and hold it until help arrives from outside. Got it?”
“Got it,” said King Gregor, his lips barely moving. “Who are you?”
“Captain Hawk, Haven SWAT.”
“How many of you are there?” said King Louis of Outremer quietly.
“Only three here in the room, but there are more outside, ready to start the commotion.”
“No offense, Captain Hawk,” said King Gregor, “but it’s going to take a lot more than three men to hold this room against a concerted attack.”
Hawk smiled. “I was hoping you might be able to suggest a few good men we could depend on when things start getting rough.”
King Gregor nodded slowly. “I think I might be able to help you there, Captain.”
He gestured surreptitiously for a young noble to approach him. The noble looked casually around to see if any of the mercenaries were watching, and then wandered unhurriedly over to stand beside King Gregor. He glanced at Hawk, and then looked again, more closely. King Gregor smiled.
“Exactly, my young friend. It seems we’re about to be rescued, and this gentleman is one of our rescuers. But he could use a little help. Alert those with the stomach for a little action, would you, and tell them to stand by.”
“Of course, Your Majesty. We’ve been waiting for something like this to happen.” Sir Roland bowed slightly to the two Kings, looked hard at Hawk, and moved back into the crowd. Hawk looked carefully around, but the mercenaries didn’t seem to have noticed the brief, muttered conversations. Very slack, but mercenaries functioned best as fighting men, not prison guards. He checked that Fisher and Barber were still in position, and let his hand rest impatiently on the axe at his side. Surely something should have happened by now. What were they waiting for outside? He looked around him to see how the young noble was getting on with his search for support, and then froze as he saw the man talking openly with a group of mercenaries by the double windows. The mercenaries looked straight at Hawk, and the noble gave him a smile and a mocking bow. Hawk swore, and drew his axe.
“Isobel, Barber; we’ve been betrayed! Get Team Two in here, and then barricade the door and hold it. Move it!”
He charged at the two nearest mercenaries, and cut them down with swift, vicious blows while they were still trying to work out what was going on. The hostages screamed, and scattered this way and that as mercenaries ploughed through them to get to Hawk. He grinned broadly, and went to meet them with his axe dripping blood. Barber yelled out the door to Team Two, and then had to turn and defend himself against a concerted attack by three mercenaries. His sword flashed brightly as he spun and thrust and parried with impossible grace and speed, holding off all three men at once and making it look effortless. Fisher tried to get to him, to keep the door open for Team Two, but was quickly stopped and surrounded by more mercenaries. She put her back against the nearest wall and cut viciously about her with her sword, manoeuvering constantly so that the mercenaries got in each other’s way as often as not.
The parlour was full of the
din of battle, punctuated by screams and shouts from the hostages, but the noise grew even louder as Team Two finally burst in through the open door. Winter and Saxon tore into the scattered mercenaries like an axe through rotten wood, and for a moment it seemed as though the reunited SWAT team might have the advantage, but only a few seconds later a crowd of mercenaries streamed through the open door, led by Glen and Bailey. The room quickly filled to its limit, and the sheer press of numbers made fighting difficult, but the terrorists didn’t shrink from cutting a way through the defenseless hostages to get at their opponents. Some of the hostages tried to help their rescuers, grappling barehanded with the mercenaries, but others worked openly with Sir Roland to help the soldiers. Screams filled the air, and the rich carpets were soaked with blood and gore.
Glen launched himself at Barber as he cut down the last of his three assailants, and the two swordsmen stood toe to toe, ignoring everything else, caught up in their own private battle of skill and speed and tactics. Hawk made his way slowly through the chaos to fight at Fisher’s side, and they ended up together with their backs to the double windows. Hawk fought furiously, trying to open up some space around him so that he could use his axe to better advantage, but there were just too many mercenaries, and more were pouring through the door every minute.
Winter ducked and weaved and almost made it out the door a dozen times, but always at the last moment there was someone there to block the way. She fought on, desperate to break away. She had to get word out of the House that the SWAT team’s mission was a failure. Saxon ploughed through the soldiers, dodging their blows easily and breaking skulls with his fists. He snatched up one opponent, and tried to use him as a living club with which to beat the others, but there wasn’t enough room. He threw the unconscious body aside, and flailed about him with his fists and feet, grinning widely as blood flew on the air, and well-armed mercenaries fell back rather than face him. But for all his efforts, he was still outnumbered and surrounded, and it was all he could do to hold his ground. MacReady stood alone in a corner, unable to escape or intervene, but protected by his magic from any personal danger. Mercenaries kept trying to seize him, only to end up dead or injured as MacReady’s charm turned their attacks back against them. Even the hostages were afraid to go near him, though their numbers kept him blocked off from the only exit.
Guards of Haven: The Adventures of Hawk and Fisher (Hawk & Fisher) Page 59
