by David Wood
Dane tore the gun from Hancock’s nerveless fingers, an old Smith and Wesson Victory Model, if he did not miss his guess, and then relieved him of the flashlight as well.
Alex finally snapped out of her paralysis. She looked down at Hancock who lay like a sacrifice atop the altar, clutching his fractured wrist. “Why? Why tell me everything if you were just going to kill me anyway?”
“He was probably trying to gauge how much you already knew,” supplied Dane. “And whether you’d told anyone else.”
Hancock shook his head. “No,” he said in a weary voice. “Nothing so clever, I’m afraid. I just wanted to tell someone. That’s the thing about secrets; the longer you hold them, the hotter they burn.” He looked up to meet Dane’s stare. “Did you really find Trevor?”
“Not exactly. But I did find the ship.”
“The Nagata Maru?” asked Alex.
Dane studied her. He had arrived at the house just as Hancock and Alex were heading out from the garden, and had followed surreptitiously as they entered the cave, eavesdropping from the shadows. In all that time, he hadn’t really gotten a good look at her, and in hindsight, that was probably a good thing. She was distractingly beautiful, with long straight hair—a sun-streaked brown that defied easy description—strong features and an olive-complexion that bespoke a Mediterranean heritage, and eyes the color of jade.
“Is that her name?” Dane gave an apologetic shrug. “I’m afraid I came in a little late on your conversation, so you’ll have to catch me up. I was actually looking for a different ship when I found her.”
Hancock slumped as if this explanation was an insult he could not bear. “And now that you know its importance, you will return and search until you find him.”
“I just might at that.”
“Wait a minute,” said Alex. “If you didn’t know any of this, didn’t even know the name of the ship you found, then why are you here?”
“Fair question,” Dane admitted. “When we found the wreck, some not-very-nice men showed up with guns and told me to dive on the wreck and find Lord Hancock, the man with the plate in his head.” He nodded at Edward Hancock. “No doubt they were some of his Templar buddies trying to bring back this special medallion.”
Hancock shook his head. “Not us.”
Alex ignored him. “You obviously got away from them.”
“That’s right. And being a curious fellow, I decided to find out what I could about the mysterious Lord Hancock. That brought me here, and not a moment too soon, I’d say.”
“They weren’t Gatekeepers,” insisted Hancock again.
“No? Well, then I guess your big secret isn’t so secret after all, is it?”
The old man straightened. His face was still twisted with pain, but he appeared to have regained some of his dignity. “For as long as we have protected this knowledge, there have been those who desired to take it from us.”
“Is that so? And I suppose you’re just dying to tell us all about it? Those secrets still trying to burn their way out, is that it?”
“You have me at a disadvantage. Knowledge is the only coin with which I may bargain for my freedom.”
“Sorry, I’m not buying it.” Dane strode forward, gripped Hancock’s shoulder and thrust him once more onto the altar. This time, he performed a hasty pat down and found a hard rectangular object in one of the old man’s pockets. He dug out a cellular phone, flipped it open.
“No reception down here,” he remarked. “But I see you made a call twenty-five minutes ago.” He glanced at Alex. “Would that be right after you showed up?”
She nodded.
“I’m guessing you called a couple of your mates from the local Templar chapter to come back you up, maybe dig a shallow grave for her. This whole Chatty Cathy routine is just a way to stall until they show up, isn’t it?”
Hancock didn’t answer.
“That’s what I thought.” Dane shoved the phone into his own pocket then grabbed the flashlight off the altar. He turned to Alex. “Let’s go.”
As they passed between the rows of benches, Alex glanced back into the shadows behind them. “What about him? We can’t just leave him here.”
“Cold blooded murder isn’t my style. Besides, he’s not a threat to us anymore.” He paused at the mouth of the passage leading out of the chapel. Maybe Hancock wasn’t a threat, but how long before his reinforcements arrived? He switched the flashlight off, plunging them into total darkness.
“What are you doing?” hissed Alex.
The darkness was absolute. If anyone was coming down the passage, they were doing so without the aid of artificial light. “Stay close.”
He felt her hand in his and that was good enough.
They reached the mouth of the passage quickly, urged on by the ever brightening sliver of daylight visible ahead. Dane emerged cautiously, sweeping the area with the pistol before coaxing Alex out to join him. As soon as they were out, Dane felt his cell phone vibrate.
“Maddock! Where the hell have you been?” It was Professor and he sounded frantic. “Company’s coming. A van just headed down the driveway five minutes ago. At least two guys, but might be more in the back.”
Dane had left his teammate with their rental car on the main road just outside the manor grounds while he had gone in on foot. Given how little he knew about their enemies, it had seemed prudent to do a little scouting, while leaving Professor behind to provide overwatch. The wisdom of that precaution was now manifest, but Dane hadn’t anticipated losing his cell phone signal when he’d gone underground.
He led Alex away from the cleft, skirting the hillside toward the cover of trees, before responding. “Roger. We’re clear for the moment.”
“We?”
“Me plus one. I rescued a damsel in distress.” He ignored Alex’s eye roll. “Meet us on the road, one klick east of the driveway. Keep your eyes open. I expect company.” He didn’t wait for a reply, but closed the phone and shoved it into his pocket. “Let’s go.”
They ventured deeper into the woods, moving at a right angle away from the trail back to the house, but after about a hundred yards, Dane stopped and held a finger to his lips.
The woods weren’t as absolutely still as the underground chapel had been, but for a moment the only sounds Dane could hear, apart from the thudding of his heart, were the chirp of insects and distant birds, and the creak of tree branches in the breeze. Then he heard voices—soft, hushed tones. Definitely not someone out for a stroll.
He couldn’t make out any words; he didn’t need to. They were being hunted. He took Alex’s hand again and they started running.
Dane tried to construct a mental map of the area, but as they pushed deeper into the woods, it became difficult to know with certainty even what direction they were going. The best he could hope for was to keep more or less to a straight line, easier said than done as they darted between tree trunks.
A burst of electronic music shattered the relative quiet, Hancock’s cell phone in Dane’s pocket! He dug it out, his haste making him all the more fumble-fingered. The ring-tone sounded twice more before he was able to silence it.
“This way!” Their pursuers were no longer bothering to be quiet, and the shout was too close for comfort. The call had not been a coincidence, Hancock had evidently told the pursuers that Dane had his phone, and they had used it to narrow the search.
A series of sharp reports completely shattered the still. Tree branches snapped and exploded above Dane and Alex, showering them with leaves and splinters. Dane threw himself flat, pulling Alex down next to him, but part of him knew that this was exactly what the hunters wanted; pin them down, paralyze them.
More shots. Dane reckoned there were at least three shooters, but he could see no one through the maze of tree trunks.
“We’ve got to move,” he told Alex. “Follow me.”
He didn’t wait for her to question or protest, but sprang to his feet and started running. A look over his shoulder confirmed that s
he was still with him, and also revealed movement further back. He twisted around without slowing and triggered a single shot from the revolver he’d taken from Hancock. Now their pursuers would know that they weren’t toothless; Dane just hoped he wouldn’t later regret wasting the round on an oak tree.
The woods thinned abruptly and they emerged at the edge of a grassy field. Dane spied the roof of the manor house off to the left, perhaps three hundred yards away. Not an option, he decided. They would never be able to cross that much open ground and there was a good chance that more of Hancock’s cronies would be waiting for them there. He pulled Alex back into the trees and resumed running, keeping the clearing to his left. Somewhere on the far side of that field was the road, where Professor would be waiting. When they had put another hundred yards between themselves and the house, Dane veered back into the open.
They made it halfway, close enough for Dane to distinguish the gray strip of the road, before the shots started again.
“Zigzag!” he shouted without looking back. A bullet crackled through air beside him and brushed through the tall grass. He veered away from it.
The road was close now, maybe fifty yards. Something was moving along it…a car…Professor.
“There! That’s our ride.”
He spun on his heel, saw three figures moving along the tree line, alternately running and gunning. He fired two shots in their direction, watched them scatter, and then turned and sprinted for the road. Alex was already there, tumbling into the back seat of the rented sedan. Dane saw Professor in the driver’s seat—the right hand driver’s seat—and cursed the British for not putting the steering wheels on the correct side. He reached the road and dove across the hood, tumbling to ground on the far side.
A bullet rapped against the fender. Another shattered the rear window.
Using the front end of the sedan for cover, Dane emptied the revolver and then climbed into the passenger seat.
“Go!”
Professor didn’t need any urging. Even before Dane’s door was shut, he pushed the accelerator to the floor and took off, throwing up a rooster tail of dirt and gravel behind them. There were more reports, but none of the shots found the retreating car, and after a few seconds, they were well beyond the range of the shooters. Dane sagged in his seat, breathing deep and savoring the respite.
“You did buy the optional insurance at the rental agency, right?” Professor said with a grin. He glanced over the back of the seat at Alex. “You brought a date? Let me guess; that’s her father and brothers taking pot shots at us.”
“Very funny, but Bones already has dibs on the job of comic relief.”
Professor ignored him. “I’m Pete, but everybody calls me Professor.”
Alex shifted into a seated position and buckled her seatbelt. “Professor of what?”
“Useless trivia, mostly,” Dane said.
“Are you guys military?”
Professor and Dane exchanged a glance. “Former,” lied Dane, “Is it that obvious?”
“I heard you on the phone, ‘one klick east?’ Either you’re military or you’ve watched one too many action movies. So what are you now? You said you found the Nagata Maru; are you fortune hunters or something?”
“Yeah, that’s us. My real name is Indiana Jones. That’s my friend Dirk Pitt behind the wheel.”
“Hey,” protested Professor. “I want to be Indiana Jones. He is a professor, after all.”
“Nice.” Alex didn’t attempt to hide her sarcasm. “I’ve been rescued by Laurel and Hardy.”
Dane turned around to meet her stare. “Ok, your turn. Did I hear correctly that you’re a historian? That Templar business; is that for real?”
“Templars?” Professor perked up and cocked his head.
Alex looked away. “That not really my field. Listen, I’m grateful to you for getting me out of there, but I really don’t want to get mixed up in your treasure hunt.”
“Seems to me like you were mixed up in it before I came along.”
“Well, I still think it might be better for both of us if we just go our separate ways.”
Professor cleared his throat. “Do you want me let you out right now? Because I’d be willing to bet those fellows in the black van behind us will give you a lift.”
Both Dane and Alex looked back. The rear window was an almost opaque spider web of cracks, but through the fist-sized hole where the bullet had struck, Dane could see the vehicle racing to catch them. Professor put the accelerator pedal on the floor again and the sedan surged forward.
Dane had complete faith in his teammate’s skill behind the wheel; every member of the team had gone through an intensive two-week long tactical driving course. Unfortunately, the techniques that worked on a busy highway or a crowded urban street were of little use on a winding country road with poorly banked turns and a rough compacted dirt surface, covered sporadically with loose gravel. They might be able to stay ahead of the van, but the road and the laws of physics almost certainly wouldn’t let them outdistance or outmaneuver the pursuit.
“Screw this,” muttered Dane. “Professor, slow down a little.”
“Slow down?” Professor and Alex were almost in harmony.
“You know what they say about the best defense. Reel ‘em in. Don’t make it look too easy, but let them catch up to us.”
Professor shook his head. “You’re the boss, boss.”
Dane crawled into the back seat and used the captured revolver to clear away the broken window. The van was closing the gap, but for what Dane had in mind, it would have to get a lot closer.
“Stay down,” he warned.
Alex ducked her head and her eyes came to rest on the gun in his hands. “How many shots do you have left?”
“Don’t worry about it. Professor, speed up a little. Make them work for it. Then when I say the word, you slam on the brakes, got it?”
“Loud and clear,” Professor answered, betraying none of the doubt or confusion he surely felt.
“The brakes?” said Alex, incredulous.
Dane didn’t elaborate, but motioned for her to stay low. The van was gaining, slow but steady, two hundred yards back…one-fifty….
“Ease off. And get ready.”
The van seemed to surge ahead, closing to within a dozen car lengths. Its windshield reflected only the sky and the green of passing trees, hiding the occupants and their intentions, but as the gap tightened Dane saw a figure lean out of the left side window.
“Incoming!”
The report and the sound of the bullet slamming into the sedan’s roof were almost simultaneous. There was another shot and a round sizzled through the air above Dane, punched through the passenger seat headrest, and smacked into the windshield.
“What are you waiting for?” Alex shouted. “Shoot back!”
She didn’t sound nearly as frightened as Dane would have expected under the circumstances, but maybe that was because she didn’t know what he was really planning.
“Wait for it, Professor,” Dane yelled, weighing the revolver in his hand and wondering if his crazy plan had even a snowball’s chance in Hell of succeeding.
Only one way to find out.
“Now!”
Professor stomped the brake pedal and the sedan skidded along the gravel roadway. The sudden deceleration threw Dane against the back of the passenger’s seat, but he was expecting it. The hunters weren’t.
The van seemed to shoot forward, filling the empty frame of the sedan’s rear window. The driver reacted instinctively, slamming on his own brakes, but it was already too late.
Dane hurled the empty revolver at the approaching windshield, even as the van skidded forward. The reinforced glass did not shatter with the impact, but the heavy steel pistol chipped a huge pockmark in the tempered pane and sent out long cracks like lightning bolts. An instant later, the van slammed into the trunk of the sedan, accordioning the rear end and propelling the smaller car forward.
Dane was ready for t
hat, too. As soon as the gun left his fingers, he hauled himself through the broken rear window and launched himself at the van’s fractured windshield.
It had to be the craziest thing he had ever done, but he didn’t let himself think about that, didn’t think about what would happen if he mistimed his leap, or if the windshield didn’t break.
He didn’t.
It did.
He felt just the slightest bit of resistance as the windshield collapsed on impact, and then he found himself practically in the driver’s lap. The man was looking away, covering his eyes as if to protect them from flying debris, and before he could recover, Dane drove a solid punch to his temple, putting him out.
There was no sign of the man in the passenger seat and Dane could only surmise that he had been thrown clear at the moment of impact. There was no one else in the vehicle.
Dane squirmed around to an upright position. Everything seemed to be working okay, a few scrapes and probably a lot of bruises, but nothing visibly more serious. He knew that when the adrenaline finally boiled away, he’d feel every bruise, but for the moment he was fully operational. He reached across the unmoving driver and worked the door handle. A single shove dropped the would-be killer’s limp, unconscious body onto the road, and Dane scooted into the empty seat.
The engine was still running, the automatic transmission still engaged and trying to move the van forward but the unyielding mass of the sedan kept it stationary. Alex was staring through the broken rear window of the rental car in complete disbelief.
“Get in!”
Alex didn’t move, but a moment later Professor got out and opened her door. “You heard the man.”
The transfer took only a few seconds, and as soon as they were aboard, Dane threw the transmission into reverse, backed away from the wrecked car, and then shifted forward.
Without the front window in place the wind blasted through the van like a gale, but Dane didn’t slow.
Professor leaned close. “Tell me again why we just did that?”
