Alicia Myles 2 - Crusader's Gold

by David Leadbeater

  Healey rolled into view from behind the bar, catching at Crouch’s sleeve and dragging the man away from the female merc. Her cry of annoyance was more than primeval anger, it was a velociraptor at play. Alicia considered taking her out of the action, but before she could decide both Healey and Crouch were with them, pushing toward the window.

  “Move!” Russo cried.

  The mountain laid down some covering fire. Alicia stood at his side. Mercs dived every which way. The one who reached them met Alicia’s front kick—a blow that broke ribs, yet still he forged on. Alicia smashed his face with the rifle’s butt before kicking him over on to his back.

  “Lay down and beg,” she said. “There’s a good boy.”

  Russo pushed her backward and she jumped over the lip of the window, into the narrow Venice street. Ahead of her tourists stared, most with backpacks or hand in hand with their partners. Another gondola plied the canal, with Caitlyn leaning over the metal railing toward it as if planning to flag it down.

  “A fucking gondola?” Alicia shouted. “Are you mad? We could walk faster.”

  Healey dragged her away, flushing a little as if the idea had actually been his. Probably had. Alicia backed away from the devastated café fast, weapon raised as Crouch took point and led the retreat. Tourists jumped out of the way. The street was narrow enough to rub shoulders with most of them. Alicia and Russo shouted at them to lie down.

  As if to prove their point mercs poured out of the café window, some shooting without caution even as they fell to the floor. Bullets hissed everywhere. A youth took a hit to the backpack, staggering but uninjured. Another screamed as bullets smashed into the wall beside his head. Alicia leapt over in an instant, took him by the scruff of the jacket, and hurled him shrieking over the railing and into the canal. Better there than dead. Russo dropped to one knee and returned fire. Crouch shouted that there was a bridge ahead, a way across the canal and off the deadly street.

  Alicia took a glance. A bridge in Venice of course wasn’t merely a bridge, it was an ornate arch spanning the greenish water, most of them imitating the Rialto Bridge of the Grand Canal. Alicia pushed people against the nearby walls as she backed toward it. The mercs followed in a group, and non-military part of Alicia’s brain now caught up with the action. Who had orchestrated this? Kenzie? Riley? A brand new maniac?

  Take your pick.

  She reached the bridge with Russo a step behind and rushed across. Bullets pinged all around and cracked stone. Puffs of mortar dust floated through the air in front of her. They were fortunate the mercs were running and shooting at the same time, because if one of them suddenly grew a brain and stopped to take aim . . .

  That made Alicia focus again on who might be following them. The abruptness of the attack surely ruled Kenzie out. The team hadn’t come close to deciphering where the Hercules was yet, so why would the barmy bitch attack them so violently? Also, she had shown restraint back at the Hagia Sophia.

  Then why did she go and kill poor old Naz?

  The term “bug fuck crazy”, came immediately to mind, but maybe that was just her. Terms from her army days constantly spun around her head. And there was another—“army” which some said stood for Ain’t Really a Marine Yet. Alicia shrugged it off as the bridge ended, its easy steps leading to yet another of Venice’s tiny streets. Crouch picked up speed, shouting at people to get indoors. Buildings flashed by to both sides, most of them constructed of imposing stone. They entered a small square with a large parasol set in the center, tables and chairs all around. Other tiny streets led off in all directions.

  “Only way to win is to lose them,” Crouch said as loud as he dared. Alicia saw he was still bleeding at the wrist, the flow constant enough to leave a trail on the floor. They twisted down two streets, both mere alleyways with crumbling stonework to both sides. At the end stood yet another street full of shops, graffiti-covered walls, and a herringbone patterned pathway. Crouch set off at a sprint. Alicia glanced behind them and, over Russo’s immense shoulders, saw their pursuers about twenty meters behind.

  “Take one of ‘em out,” she said. “That’ll slow ‘em all.”

  “I’m bloody trying!”

  Alicia swore. “Motherfucker, if you’re not up for a shag and you can’t shoot to save your life what the hell are you good for?” Quickly, she aimed and fired. A merc tumbled, crying out, and then screaming as his comrades tripped over him. Russo cursed her.

  Ahead, Crouch suddenly switched directions, turning at an abrupt ninety degree angle. Alicia reached the crossroads just as Crouch, Caitlyn and Healey put their heads down and added speed, sprinting straight for . . .

  What? Oh, no . . . shit!

  “That’s a canal! It’s just a fu—”

  Alicia clammed up as Crouch entered a particularly slender tunnel with the words Sotoportego Catullo, emblazoned across the top. Beyond, all she could see were the still waters. Then, in mid-sprint, Crouch jumped. Healey and Caitlyn were a step behind. Alicia ran in their wake, finally seeing their purpose.

  A frigging gondola.

  Trusting Crouch’s judgement she readjusted her steps to make the leap as perfect as possible. The gondola was drifting along, even now tipping as Crouch, Caitlyn and Healey landed hard. The gondolier flipped over the side, too shocked even to utter a scream. Alicia jumped hard, seeing the end of the gondola already approaching, and landed inside the wooden vessel, aware that a meteor was about to strike.

  Russo!

  EIGHTEEN

  Crouch struggled to his knees. Healey and Caitlyn were inextricably entwined. Alicia feared the worst and rolled over onto her back. Blue skies greeted her for less than second. After that the light was blocked out by something the size of a falling star. Her brain barely had time to register the coming impact before Russo crashed down, driving the breath from her body and sending the gondola up onto its side. Water flooded the boat, crashing over all of them as they struggled to stay inside.

  The vessel righted itself, its sides shielding them from view, waves crashing from every side. The gondolier yelled in shock and anger, his hat floating away at his back, a sad counterpoint to his fury. Alicia couldn’t even draw breath as she lay pinned beneath Russo, not for the first time in her life. Crouch grabbed hold of a red-covered seat, staring up the gondola’s sharp curve to the prow-head. Wet brick walls, fungus and decaying facades lined the canal ahead, the lesser features of a gondola ride through the sinking city. The rowing oar was gone and the highly polished craft floated uneasily amidst its own waves, going nowhere. Crouch cast around, whispering for everyone to help.

  Alicia gasped, still unable to breathe and pushing at Russo with weak arms. The soldier’s face was an inch from her own, creased with surprise that he’d actually managed to land inside.

  “Cool,” he muttered.

  Alicia flapped at him.

  “What the hell’s wrong, Myles? Are you trying to fly?”

  With a deep, shuddering breath Alicia finally managed to get some air inside her body. Out of her peripheral vision she could see Crouch searching for a way forward and finding nothing. Very soon their pursuers would figure out where they had gone.

  Russo knelt over her. Alicia gathered her strength and struck both hands against this chest.

  “Move, ya fuckin’ bouncing bomb!” Alicia had heard the word “fuck” was the most useful and often used word in the military vocabulary and always played her part in maintaining an average.

  Russo rolled away, still struggling a little. Alicia tried to sit up, saw stars and lay back down. Crouch abruptly collapsed into the bottom of the craft.

  “They’re here,” he murmured. “Hide.”

  Russo collapsed again without ceremony. Alicia groaned. “Bastard.”

  A moment passed, a few more seconds. The gondolier was still shouting from the water, attracting attention. Alicia knew that before long even the dumbest mercenary would shoot at the drifting wooden gondola.

  “Grab your gun,” she told
Russo. “And be ready.”

  “Wait—” Caitlyn began.

  “That’d be suicide.” Alicia and Russo rose as one, instantly locking gazes with half-a-dozen mercenaries who stood at the tunnel’s exit, scanning the canal. Before their enemies could open fire, Alicia and Russo sprayed them with bullets. Two fell into the water, two more collapsed back with wounds. Everyone began to yell.

  “Gotta get away from here,” Alicia said.

  Crouch again scanned the area. “Don’t they have speedboats? I was hoping for a speedboat.”

  “Banned them a few years ago,” Caitlyn told him. “If you’d asked before you jumped . . .”

  “I’ll try to remember next time I’m in mid-flight. How’s the ammo?” he called.

  Alicia threw her gun at the water. “Out.”

  Russo waited and then fired a final burst. “Me too.”

  Crouch eyed the canal. “Hope there’s a way out up ahead,” he said and then leapt into the water. Taking his lead, Caitlyn slipped over the side just as Healey splashed beside her. Alicia stared at Russo.

  “After you, Robster. The last time I went swimming the whole ocean exploded.”

  “Why am I not surprised?”

  Russo launched himself over the side, creating a splash like a whale coming down. Alicia appraised their enemies’ positioning before following suit. The female merc was leaning over as if she wanted to dive in and give chase, but someone was holding her back. Alicia knew that Crouch’s reasoning had been sound—if the mercs dived in after them they would be vulnerable when the Gold Team climbed out. Their only advantage was to beat Crouch to the exit point.

  Alicia hit the canal, trying not to swallow its dirty water and arrowing down like a fish, then jack-knifing forward. Soon, she was in front of Russo and then catching up to Crouch. “You know where you’re going?”

  Crouch flashed a grim smile. “Haven’t the slightest clue.”

  “Fantastic.” Alicia studied the way ahead. Sheer brick and stone walls reared to either side, festooned with green fungus just above the water line. Another bridge spanned the canal but there was no access to street level. Sirens sounded in the distance.

  “Maybe that’ll shake them off,” Alicia said.

  Crouch looked unconvinced. “I’m sure this is Riley’s doing and believe me, nothing will ever shake him off.”

  Alicia curbed a sudden outburst, wondering why the hell Crouch had suddenly turned into the world’s worst pessimist. Truth was, she didn’t know how many complex, random lines their boss was trying to thread together. Or why. Instead, she concentrated on swimming, the cold water beginning to bite at her senses. To her left both Healey and Caitlyn shot by, reminding Alicia of Flipper. Before she could say anything a gout of canal water entered her mouth, making her cough and splutter. Then, as she broke the surface again, trying not to imagine the germs she’d just ingested, she caught sight of what the two Flippers were aiming toward.

  A wooden jetty dead ahead.

  In fact a series of wooden jetties on both sides of the watery passage, where gondolas could dock to take on passengers. Alicia looked back, gauging their distance from the mercs. It would be close but they should have enough time to climb up and disappear. Did Riley know where they were headed next? She tried to remember the figures around them back at the café. Had anyone been listening?

  Soldiers were good at spotting surveillance. But in a place like that one tourist just looked the same as another, innocent or not. And Caitlyn’s revelation about Napoleon hadn’t exactly been on the down-low . . .

  Alicia watched as Healey reached the jetty first and began to climb the low wooden structure. The moment he reached the top he spun and held a hand out toward Caitlyn.

  Alicia saw the merc appear out of the archway behind him, saw the gleeful smirk, the utter menace and opened her mouth to shout a warning. As she did so the merc threw a grenade in Healey’s direction. The sound of its first bounce seized the soldier’s attention.

  “No!” Crouch cried out.

  Healey’s first instinct was to let go of Caitlyn, allowing her to fall back beneath the water. His second was to face the bouncing bomb alone, trying to gauge its terminus. Alicia could only watch, heart pounding, wondering why the hell he hadn’t just jumped—

  Healey leaped for the canal.

  No time!

  The grenade exploded in mid-air, fragments flying, its blast reaching Healey’s airborne body, flinging it like a rag doll. The jetty itself shattered, timbers and spars bursting in all directions. Alicia dipped under the water for a moment, cursing herself for not having imagined that Riley would have the cunning to cover all exits. When timbers started landing on top of the water she waited a few seconds and then broke the surface again. Ahead, the jetty was collapsing, groaning to a watery extinction.

  Healey!

  She spotted the unmoving body a moment before it started to sink. With a kick and a sharp dive she shot down and forward, speeding toward Healey. Caitlyn, she could see, was already underneath the young soldier, trying to support his dead weight. From out of nowhere came another explosion, but this one deep, sonorous. The mercs were flinging grenades into the water. Alicia reached Healey, took hold of his jacket and hauled him above the surface.

  Caitlyn grabbed his other side, her face a mask of anguish.

  Crouch swam up. “Behind you!”

  Alicia wasted no time trying to determine Healey’s condition. Crouch pointed to a jetty on the opposite side of the canal. “If we’re quick.”

  It was vulnerable, but their only means of getting Healey out of there quickly. Alicia immediately had an idea, handed Healey off to Crouch and grabbed hold of one of the jetty’s timbers. Climbing fast, she glanced over to the ruined jetty.

  Shit.

  A merc was watching her, grenade in hand.

  Crouch bobbed in the water below. “What the hell?”

  “Climb!” Alicia shouted. “Just climb!”

  Crouch urged Russo up first, shouldering Healey’s weight until the big soldier gained ground. Healey was not moving, his limbs unresponsive, head hanging. Crouch heaved him up toward Russo’s dangling arms.

  Alicia gained the top of the jetty as the merc prepared to lob his grenade toward her. Crossing her fingers she cast around, hoping her outlandish plan would work. Seeing a meter long, thick plank of damaged wood at her feet she quickly scooped it up, whirled and eyed the suddenly airborne bomb.

  Russo hauled Healey over the edge, eyes momentarily on her.

  “Navratilova’s got nothing on me,” she said, swinging the plank and batting the grenade back in the mercenary’s direction. It reached the middle of the canal before exploding in mid-air, shrapnel slamming into brick walls and shattering through windows.

  Russo climbed up, dripping wet. “Nah, I’d say John McEnroe was more your role model.”

  Alicia eyed another grenade as it fell toward the jetty. “Hurry the fuck up, Russo. It won’t be long before the bastards’ brains catch up with their throwing arms and they time one to explode on impact.”

  Russo hefted Healey with a grunt. “Doubtful,” he said, “from what we saw earlier.”

  Alicia batted another grenade away just as Crouch slithered over the edge, helping Caitlyn at the same time. The sudden explosion rocked the surrounding walls, echoing backwards and forwards inside the canal’s narrow passage. Russo sprinted headlong toward their archway. Alicia hefted her wooden spar, trading jeers with their enemy.

  “Is he . . . is he . . .” Caitlyn was spluttering, drenched and miserable and terrified. “Healey? Is he . . .”

  Alicia’s face turned grimmer than the pillars at the entrance to Hell. “If he is someone’s gonna wish they were never born.”

  NINETEEN

  Crouch beckoned Alicia into the tunnel. “Hurry up! I’ve carried out my fair share of missions in Venice. I know just where to go.”

  Alicia ran, following the team onto Calle Frezzeria, still only a few street changes away f
rom St. Mark’s Square. Within minutes they were passing a vaporetto stop. Crouch slowed drastically for the water bus.

  “Rio del Mancanton,” he said. “Other side of the Grand Canal, and hurry!”

  Money flashed, changed hands quickly. Russo didn’t even try to explain Healey’s situation, just laid the young soldier onto the bottom of the boat and hunched over him. Alicia analyzed their perimeter, as sure as she could be that they hadn’t been spotted. How far did Riley’s nasty little feelers reach?

  Guess we’ll find out soon enough.

  Caitlyn was on her hands and knees beside Russo. “Zack! Can you hear me?”

  Alicia dropped down. Healey’s face was ashen and, oddly, even more boyish than usual. Alicia had heard reports of soldiers looking peaceful in death, fresher, but had never seen one until now.

  “Oh, no.”

  Coming on the back of Komodo’s shocking death this was almost enough to tip her over. Black spots started to fill her vision. Her breath shortened and a sense of rage began to take control.

  Then Russo said, “He’s alive.”

  Alicia felt a rush of hope. “Get down there, Caitlyn,” she breathed. “Just snog that little bastard back to life if you have to. Whatever it takes.”

  Russo gently turned Healey’s face away from the darkening skies. Alicia observed the tender gesture and fought down a surge of affection for the rough soldier. Now wasn’t the time.

  Their craft was cutting swiftly through the waters, closing in on its destination. Rio del Malcanton was situated in one of the seedier parts of Venice, not entirely safe during the nocturnal hours, but even that was not without its benefits. Crouch directed their gondolier where to dock and urged them all into the shadows as quickly as possible.

  “It would be easier if all our phones and equipment hadn’t just drowned,” he said. “But I think I can still find my way around.” After a moment he added, “Hopefully this place is still functioning.”

  Russo hefted Healey. Crouch led the way, threading through an ever-darkening series of streets before pausing outside a dilapidated bakery. Alicia could hear footfalls behind them, and smell the ever-present scent of decay in the air. The bakery stood at the top of a short flight of steps, its windows barred and its door strengthened with metal strapping. When Crouch knocked Alicia saw a face momentarily loom at the window. The footfalls at their backs had paused for now, but she sensed a presence, more than one, watching and waiting.