by Alex Archer
Garin opened the valves on the acetylene and oxygen tanks as quickly as he could.
“You’re going to get us killed! That stuff is highly explosive!”
“That’s what I’m counting on.” Garin took the man by the arm and pulled him into motion.
A small bathroom occupied the rear corner of the warehouse. The room was constructed of cinder blocks, which left the walls structurally weaker than Garin would have hoped for, but the steel looked somewhat blast resistant.
He pushed Troiai inside and stood behind the door himself, then took aim with the pistol and started pulling the trigger.
* * *
MELINA STARED INTO the roiling cloud of smoke spreading from the back of the warehouse. A harsh chemical smell burned her nose and caused her eyes to tear. She peered into the room over the rifle sights, searching for Garin.
A string of small explosions rattled along metal shelving she could barely make out in the back of the room.
Cautiously, breathing shallowly, Melina stepped into the warehouse. All three bay doors were open to the harbor, all of them leading directly to the water. She called to her man watching the front of the salvage shop. “Have you seen Garin?”
“No. He has not come out. The building appears to be on fire.”
“Watch for him in case he decides to use the smoke as cover.” Melina continued moving forward, never crossing her feet so she didn’t trip herself if she tried to shift quickly, and so that she presented a small profile in case Garin shot first.
Then four quick gunshots cracked in the confusion and the back of the warehouse exploded. Shrapnel ricocheted everywhere. A few chunks peppered Melina, thumping into her body armor and stinging her arms. The smoke whipped around in a frenzy and the concussive wave blew her off her feet.
Breath knocked from her lungs, Melina struggled to get back up. Next to her, one of the men with her lay quivering, howling in pain, except it came out in a gurgle because half his face and his lower jaw had been sheared away. Blood pooled around him.
On her feet, Melina went to put him out of his misery, but before she could he quivered a final time and lay still. She turned back to the rear of the warehouse, barely able to make out the hole in the building as two shadows disappeared through it.
Melina called the backup team, warning them that Garin had gotten free. She darted forward, hesitated only a moment at the wall of flame, then hurled herself through.
* * *
THE INSTANTANEOUS EXPLOSION of the gases igniting didn’t give Garin any time to duck behind the steel door as he’d intended. The concussive force outraced the flames, though, blowing him back into the bathroom and slamming the door shut. Smoke instantly coiled in under the gap between the door and the floor. The chemical stink of it caused Garin’s lungs to seize up and he fought to get his breath.
Growling curses in a pain-racked croak, he was afraid the fire had spread more than he’d anticipated and they were now in danger of being burned alive in the small room. Garin took a fresh grip on his pistol and braced his free hand against the wall to force himself to a standing position.
Troiai, wide-eyed with fear, appeared to be none the worse for wear. “We’re not dead?” He ran his hands over his chest as if to prove that to himself.
“Not yet.” Garin touched the doorknob cautiously. The metal was still cool to the touch. He swung the door open, then grabbed Troiai and pulled him out.
Smoke filled the immediate vicinity and Garin’s lungs burned for oxygen and his eyes watered. He ran toward the corner where the acetylene and oxygen tanks had been. Blunted sunlight streamed in through a hole five feet in diameter. He headed for it, letting the pistol lead the way.
Three cars had stopped in the middle of the small street as the drivers stared at the marine salvage yard. Several people in the nearby shops peered through windows.
Garin kept Troiai in motion, sprinting for the other side of the street. “Emil.”
“Here.”
“I’m on the street behind the warehouse.”
“Affirmative. I’ll be there in a moment.”
As Garin ran through the stalled cars, bullets from an execution team hammered the vehicles, ricocheting from bodies and splintering glass.
“We’re not waiting.” Garin pushed Troiai ahead of him, firing his pistol dry and gaining the other side of the street as one of the Andrianou mercenaries behind him went down. “I’m going to try for my car. If you can, capture Melina Andrianou. If you can’t do that, kill her.” He dumped the empty magazine from his pistol and inserted another one as he ran.
23
Roux’s phone rang at the same time Annja saw the pall of smoke hanging above the harbor. Her stomach tightened. She had the distinct feeling that the smoke was somehow connected to Garin.
Roux put the phone on speaker. “Hello.”
“Mr. Roux, I work with Mr. Braden. I was instructed that if his meeting with Mr. Troiai went awry I was to contact you and advise you not to go there.” The woman at the other end of the connection spoke matter-of-factly, professional in spite of the message.
“Schrettinger?” Annja asked.
The woman at the other end of the connection didn’t miss a beat. “Ms. Creed, glad you made it. But to the point, Mr. Braden suggests that you make your way to the ship.”
“What ship?” Roux asked irritably.
“Kestrel. One of Mr. Braden’s salvage vessels. It’s my understanding that you’ll be joining the search of the area where the clockwork butterfly was found.”
“I am.”
“Then you’ll need to know where to find Kestrel.” She added the harbor listing where the ship would be found.
“Is Garin en route there?” Roux asked.
“Not at the moment.”
Roux cursed and broke the connection. He looked at Honeysuckle. “Maybe we could endeavor to get to the salvage yard more promptly.”
The chauffeur laid on the horn and put her foot on the accelerator, surging through the sedate morning traffic. Faced with a reluctant taxi driver ahead of her, she pulled over to the left, dodged an oncoming car and rocketed through a small collection of empty chairs and tables in front of a café. Pulling back across both lanes of traffic, she easily zipped along the street, now suddenly clear of hesitant motorists.
The phone rang but Roux didn’t answer. Hers rang a moment later, but she ignored it, as well, figuring it would be Schrettinger.
In the distance, she spotted the Lanterna, the main lighthouse for the port. It was one of the oldest lighthouses in the world, constructed on the San Benigno Hill. The hill no longer existed because it had been used for landfill. Only the scrap of a hill under the lighthouse remained.
Built of gray stone, the lighthouse looked like two long blocks from a child’s play set, one stacked lengthways on top of the other. When the structure had been built, it had stood on a peninsula sticking out from the coast, but since the city had filled in the harbor, it now sat in the middle of the industrial area.
Roux reached into a worn satchel on the floorboard next to his feet. It looked like an old pet. He pulled out a wicked machine pistol that seemed like something from a science fiction movie and offered it to Annja. “Are you familiar with this?”
“It’s an MP9. I’ve seen them before, but no, I’m not that familiar with them.”
“You point. You pull the trigger. Whatever is in front of you is no longer a problem.” Roux showed her how to work the action and the wire stock. “Garin prefers the MP5, but I quite like these. About half the size of the German pistol, superior rate of fire, nightscope, magazine capacity of thirty rounds and fairly accurate out to one hundred yards. We’re going to be in tight quarters today, so that shouldn’t be a problem. I prefer the Austrian Steyr version to this Swiss model, but these were
easier to get at the moment.”
Annja took the pistol, surprised at how light it was. Roux handed her four extra magazines and she put them in her pockets. “Seriously? If we have to use this many bullets, we’re in trouble.”
Roux regarded her with his unflinching gaze. “This is the Andrianou family, Annja. They are very dangerous people, and they don’t care how many people they have to kill to get what they want. We’re already in trouble.”
He reached into his satchel and took out another pistol that matched the one Annja held.
“They come in pairs like socks?”
Roux smiled grimly. “Hardly, but given who we’re up against, I thought it best to be overequipped.” He looked forward as Honeysuckle skidded around an intersection. “You can bet that Melina Andrianou did not come alone.”
Annja checked over the weapon again, making certain she knew how to operate it. Then she slipped the safety off.
It’s so much better to be unexpectedly fighting for your life than planning on doing that.
“There’s the warehouse.”
Roux’s comment was unnecessary. The thick black smoke streaming from the building marked it instantly.
“Do we know where Garin is?”
“No.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t have hung up on Schrettinger so quickly.”
“Is that truly the woman’s name?”
“No. Is this car bulletproof?”
“Relatively. I learned my lesson yesterday.”
“Good, because we just attracted someone’s attention.” Annja dodged back as a massive SUV pulled alongside them on the left.
“I see them,” Honeysuckle called. “Hang on.” She swerved, pulling over into the SUV. Gunmen at both the car’s passenger windows opened fire. Bullets hammered their windows, fracturing the glass but not penetrating.
Metal shrilled as the car and the SUV fought for dominance. Finally, the SUV’s greater weight pushed them to the side. Honeysuckle swore as she fought the wheel and plowed through market kiosks. The vendors had quickly run out of her way.
Rolling her window down slightly, Annja thrust the MP9’s wicked snout through the narrow space and fired. The 9 mm bullets slammed into the SUV, but the driver remained locked onto the sedan.
“Brake!” Honeysuckle yelled, then applied the brakes forcefully. The antibrake locking system caused the car to jerk, but it quickly slowed and the SUV skid ahead of them.
Honeysuckle floored the accelerator again and pulled hard to the left, striking the SUV’s right rear quarter panel with the front of the car and knocking the other vehicle sideways a little. She applied the brake and accelerator again, then nudged the attack vehicle again. With its higher center of gravity, the SUV’s tires lost traction and the vehicle turned sideways, then flipped over onto its top. Honeysuckle braked and sped up again, catching the SUV across the front of the sedan and powering them both forward.
At the same time, a large van suddenly emerged from a side street.
As if expecting the tactic, Honeysuckle tapped the brake, pulled harder to the left and passed the SUV. The van clipped the sedan’s bumper, sending a shiver through the length of the car, then continued on, coming to a miraculous stop just a few feet short of the end of a wharf surrounded by sailboats.
Honeysuckle brought the vehicle to a stop, set the transmission into reverse, then threw an arm over the seat and hit the accelerator again. She was smiling. “I saw that little trick yesterday. I was expecting it.”
The sedan shot backward, then slammed into the van at the edge of the wharf. The tires spun for a moment as the sedan’s motor and transmission strained, then the van toppled over into the harbor with a large splash.
“There.” Honeysuckle smiled brightly. “Much better.” She engaged the transmission again and roared forward. The salvage yard was just down the block.
Annja reloaded her weapon.
* * *
ON THE OTHER side of the flames, Melina got her bearings and headed through the hole in the wall, one of her team in tow.
Outside, Melina took a deep breath and scoured the neighborhood for Garin. Cars moved cautiously out in the street, then the drivers saw the rifle in her arms and decided to move more quickly. In the alley ahead of her, she spotted the backup team she’d ordered for the salvage yard. She launched herself in pursuit of them.
“Dettmer—” at least she’d remembered one of her grandfather’s men’s names “—where is Garin Braden?”
“He went into the alley.”
“Do you have eyes on him?”
“Not yet. We’re trying to catch him.”
Her grandfather’s voice carried over the earbud. “Melina.”
“Yes?” The twisting alley had a sudden jog to the left. Melina hit the wall with her palm, adding muscle to her course correction, and picked up her speed again.
“Roux has arrived at your location.”
Excitement flared within Melina, immediately turning to bloodlust. She remembered leaving her father’s head and body in the alleyway where it had been found. That had been one of the hardest things she had ever done. Part of her had died that night, but she had done as her grandfather had ordered.
And she had lived for the moment when she could take her revenge.
“Where is he?”
“Arriving at the salvage yard even as we speak.”
“Dettmer, stay on Garin.” Melina reversed her direction, waving to the man who followed her to do the same. “Where is Team Three? Have them close in on Roux and block his retreat.”
“Team Three is at the bottom of the harbor. I already gave orders for them to bring Roux down. They failed.”
“Roux is mine! You know that!” Melina redoubled her speed, the street now coming into sight in front of her.
“He is there.”
“Send in the team from the ship.”
“I have. They should be reaching you in a moment.”
* * *
TROIAI COULDN’T HANDLE the pace Garin set, so he had to slow down to allow the man to keep up. They ran through the next alley, then reached the street where he had left the car.
Garin took out his key fob and punched the button. The car’s lights flashed and the horn honked in response. The boys watching the car stood and looked around.
“Do you see the car?”
Out of breath, unable to reply, Troiai nodded.
“Get in.” Garin shoved his gun into his jacket pocket and kept his hand around it. With his other hand, he fished euro notes from his pants pocket. He had more than four twenty-euro notes, but he didn’t care.
When he reached the boys, he gave the money to the one he’d made the deal with.
The kid took the money and tried to look brave. “What’s going on?”
“Better that you not ask. Better still that you’re not here. There are some bad people coming.”
Making a fist around the money, the boy nodded, then yelled at his companions. They put their skateboards on the sidewalk and shot in the other direction.
Garin slid in behind the steering wheel. Troiai shook so badly he couldn’t lock in his seat belt.
“Do you know those people?” Troiai asked.
“They are with the competitors I told you about.” Garin put the car in gear and peeled out down the street. “Aren’t you glad you’re doing business with me?”
“No. No, I’m not.”
Garin laughed and the man looked at him as though he was crazy, which only made him laugh more. He shot past the group who had been following him, getting their attention too late for them to do anything to stop him.
He tapped the earbud. “Are Roux and Annja heading for Kestrel?”
“No. I told him the game plan and he hung up on me. I’v
e tracked his car to the salvage yard.”
Garin cursed as he took the next corner, watching closely for any other surprises Melina Andrianou might have whipped up. “Patch me through to Roux.”
“He might not answer.”
“Hack his phone. Put me on speaker.” Garin’s jubilation over his victory melted away as he thought about the bloody mess he had saved Roux from six years earlier. He didn’t know how he truly felt about Roux after everything they’d been through, but one thing he knew for sure was that he wasn’t ready for the old man to die. Not unless it was at his hands.
24
Roux’s phone rang, then Garin’s voice blasted from it. “Pick up the phone, Roux. Do it now!”
Fishing in his pocket, Roux brought the device out. “Where are you?”
“For the moment, I’m safe. I have the salvager and I have a ship. We’re clear of the situation. You need to get out of there.”
Feeling instant relief, Annja studied the confused mess ahead of them. A man lay dead in front of the marine salvage yard. A gaping hole glared out from the back of the warehouse, which she could see from the front because the windows had been blown out, too. A wrecked SUV sat idle next to an overturned sailboat, and a trail of carnage led up to that. Garin might be out of danger at the moment, but he’d certainly been in it.
“Where is Melina Andrianou?” Roux asked.
“I don’t know, and I don’t know how many people she has back there.” Garin’s voice was strained as he tried to speak calmly. “This isn’t the place or time for a confrontation with her, Roux. The police are going to be all over that scene. Even if you kill her, you could get arrested.”
“That’s what we have attorneys for.”
“If they charge you as a terrorist, you might never see the light of day again.”
“They can’t hold me.”
“If they arrest you and put you in jail, you could be there long enough to die at the hands of someone else Adrianou’s grandfather sends after you. They’re not going to quit.”
