The Seven Seals of Egypt (Matt Drake Book 17)

by David Leadbeater

  Alicia gripped the wooden bars, trying to see more of the cave system. The entrance seemed composed of only a brash brightness that left imprints on her eyeballs. The way that led further into the system vanished into darkness, inadequately lit.

  Drake and Dahl came forward a little, dragging Kinimaka with them, the three making a formidable wedge at the front of the little chain-gang.

  “You may have taken our weapons,” Dahl said. “But, since you’re such a nice, chatty jailor, I have to warn you. We’re not defenseless.”

  Alicia also knew what everyone else knew. They were required alive. If not, they’d be rotting in a hole in the desert by now.

  “Oh, really?” Saint boomed. “Thanks for that wonderful moment of insight. I’ll promise to be careful. Now . . . see how we do things.”

  He turned to the gathered guards. “I want the old one there. Near the bars. Bring him to me now.”

  Alicia saw they meant Crouch and felt a stab of anguish. The doors were opened and the team crowded around. Guns were leveled at them, some wavering. Drake and Dahl bunched at the front, with Kinimaka covering Crouch. The others all bunched in.

  “All right,” Saint came inside, “we do it the fun way.”

  He held up a Walther, aimed it at Mai’s leg and fired. The bullet flashed a millimeter past, the burn singeing her pants leg. He fired another in-between Dahl’s legs, higher than was comfortable, the bullet missing and then burying itself into the ground.

  He whipped his knife around, slicing Alicia and Drake, darted back, and raised the Walther again.

  “I can do this shit all day.”

  “You do that,” Dahl hissed. “Just get the hell out of our house.”

  He kicked out, catching a guard in the ribs. The man folded and Drake reached down for the discarded weapon, only to be brought up short by his chains. Dahl tried to bend too, but the steel was just too short and tight.

  “All right. Just take the old fool.” Saint backed out.

  More guards flooded into the cell until movement was hard. They tugged on the chains, two, three at a time, shuffling Drake and Dahl to where they wanted them. Punches and kicks were meted out. Kinimaka was stabbed in the thigh until he fell, blood flowing from the wound. Hayden cried out and fell to her knees beside him, dragging Kenzie with her. The movements upset the chain and sent everyone tottering, steel scraping skin, and chains pressing into bone. Rifle butts were used too, on exposed heads and without mercy. Drake could not move as a gun was smashed over his skull, three times.

  More guards squeezed by the scene of the punishment and grabbed hold of Crouch. They removed his manacles from the chain and dragged him clear; their colleagues still fighting with Dahl, Smyth and the others. Alicia could barely move but managed to trip a guard and hook a hand around his throat when he fell.

  She gripped the larynx, crushed it as hard as she could. His gun was trapped beneath his body, inaccessible to Alicia. Such were the breaks.

  A boot smashed down onto her cheek and stayed there, pushing her face into the hard dirt, exerting more pressure until the blood pounded in her brain. In the end she gave up her grip on the larynx, preferring to fight another day. Still the boot pressed down and another pounded on her back for a while. Someone bruised Drake, because she heard him cry out.

  At last, the pressure eased and the guards went away. She looked up, hurting, to see Saint still standing outside their cell.

  Crouch stood at his side, hands cuffed behind his back, a gun at his temple.

  “You see?” Saint said pleasantly. “I hate to say I told you so, kids. But I did, and I guess that’s why I earn the big bucks. I could pop this prick right now, blow his brains out. You want that?”

  Alicia felt her heart lurch, tried to move. The others did the same. Chains rattled and restraints clinked.

  “You see? A soldier loses his edge when he loves. That’s how it is.”

  “I’d say—” Dahl grunted and heaved as he rose to his knees, dragging three others with him “—quite the opposite.”

  “They call you the Mad Swede, am I right? I can see why. Now, simmer down for a while. Conserve your energy ’cause you’re gonna need it.”

  “Where are you taking him?” Alicia asked. “Why?”

  “Just up a ways,” Saint answered. “Don’t worry, you’ll be able to hear him. This prick’s gonna get a very sharp talking to.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

  “Come on. Come on!” Alicia berated them all. “Come up with a damn plan. They’re torturing him up there!”

  The screams had endured for the best part of half an hour now, with little let up. They could hear Saint laughing, shouting, cajoling. Drake had dragged them all around the cell, ignoring the guards and their torments, searching for a weak spot. They found nothing. Now, those in the middle of their huddle were attempting to find a fault in their chains.

  A guard shouted at them in Arabic. Alicia spun and hurled a rock at him. The missile struck the bars but made him jump back in shock. No weapons were raised. Again, the temperature was their enemy, rising by the minute and making everything more uncomfortable. Crouch’s screams were unrelenting, and Alicia knew he was once a trained soldier.

  Retired, living his life more hassle-free.

  They should never have gotten involved. Crouch was living a fantasy and they were on the hoof, runaways. Hunted. Where would it all end?

  FrameHub were chasing something, not just conflict between nations. The American splinter cell were chasing something, not just the downfall of SPEAR. Luther was chasing something, not just death and destruction. The Chinese and the British were chasing something, not just the Sword of Mars. And now she, and all her friends, were caught in the middle.

  The only way out was to finish it. End it all so they could come out the other side and taste the freedom once more.

  Then Crouch’s screams abruptly stopped. A strangled cry rang out, and then nothing. Alicia stared fearfully up the passage.

  A guard spoke in Arabic, laughing. Kenzie translated it: “We return him to you later. A part every hour.”

  Then Alicia saw them gathering—a dozen guards and then more. Guns were poised and so were other weapons. Some held clubs, baseball bats and even rocks. Others brandished steel bars and one, a heavy leather whip. Alicia rose slowly as she sensed something big was happening.

  Drake and Dahl shushed the others, everyone rising to their feet as a silence settled. Alicia got the impression that they were about to find out exactly why they were here.

  Saint came rushing up. “Hey, hey,” he called. “I’d forget my own head if it were loose.”

  “What have you done to Michael?” Alicia asked.

  “Urm, he’s helping us with our enquiries. Or he was. But never mind that. You people have far worse problems to worry about.”

  Alicia bit her tongue, tensing every muscle in her body. The rage was waiting to be unleashed.

  “We’re taking you out of there. Now, we doing it the fun away like before or are you gonna come quietly?”

  “Looking forward to cracking your skull.” Dahl rolled both shoulders.

  The guards attacked as before. This time Kinimaka smashed an opponent’s skull, leaving him prone and unmoving. Dahl rendered two more unconscious, but still the range of movement was crippling, the confines thwarting every attempt to gain an advantage. The guards had weapons, fresh hands. They had once been soldiers themselves.

  Five minutes and Alicia was outside the cell, her hands cuffed at her back, legs hampered by more manacles set at a length that hindered movement. The others waited at her back, dripping blood and flesh torn. They were all soaked through, sweating freely and filthy. Alicia was glad to see heads held high and faces unflinching.

  To a person, they were plotting escape.

  Saint no doubt knew that too. He was careful, clever. He positioned men away from the line and every four meters or so, always with line of sight. He put other men with automatic weapons at the front
and rear of the line. He made sure every member of the SPEAR team knew there was a personal sight lined up on them.

  “Go.”

  As one they shuffled off, arms already aching from the tight restraints. The passage led deeper into the cave system inside the mountain—or hill as it may be—they hadn’t seen it clearly from the outside. Every meter a dull torch glowed. Ahead, Alicia saw nothing but an arched passage leading somewhere unknown. The guards were all around them.

  They passed an internal cave, a niche in the wall, where Crouch surely had to be, but saw nothing of the man. Alicia saw blood on the floor though and her old boss’s watch lying on a table.

  Saint shouted out. “Keep the line going. Nothing to see there.”

  Alicia stopped, peering closer. A guard flew at her face and she headbutted him away. She saw blood pooling around Michael’s watch, and dripping to the floor. She saw a mound of something thrown into a corner but, in truth, it could have been anything.

  A heavy club came down on her back, staggering her. She moved on, still being beaten. The cave passed by. Ahead, after a while, and through a haze of pain, she saw light. Bright light. The passage started to lean in a downward direction as it headed straight for the unsettling glare.

  Alicia stopped walking right at the edge of the light, a guard’s hand held upright and palm outward in the recognized gesture. It gave her a moment to study what was on the other side.

  Saint came alongside. “Welcome to our inferno, boys and girls. They might not treat you well here, but I doubt you’ll complain overmuch.”

  Alicia was awestruck. The cave system branched off here to a vast, stepped hole set in its very center. An inverted dome, open to the skies, but surrounded by the mountain so that nobody ever knew it existed.

  Nobody except FrameHub, maybe.

  The walls were uneven, offering seating, and the almost perfectly round floor was flat. Pure, undiluted sunshine flooded the entire inverted dome, making it fry. Alicia saw hundreds of men already seated around the sides, stripped to the waist, bottles of beer held in their hands, an assortment of guns and other weapons lying casually across their laps. When one of them saw Alicia at the entrance he pointed, and caught the attention of others, and soon all eyes were looking upward.

  A cheer went up, almost a roar.

  Saint propped an elbow on her shoulder. “Show us your mettle, Alicia,” he said. “It’s time to shine.”

  He pushed her forward and the whole chained-together line started off once more, shuffling along at a steady pace. Just as slowly, the arena they were entering took greater shape. The large, round ring of sky; the sun starting to rise over the eastern tip of the bowl. More and more mercenaries sat waiting, eager and animated. Threats were called out, issued as fast as junk mail. Saint pointed Alicia to a narrow channel that had been hewn into the rock.

  “You want me to walk down that? Chained together like this we’ll all be skating.”

  “I don’t care how you do it or what happens to you. Just get down before I push you down.”

  Alicia clenched her fists, barely able to stop herself launching an attack at Saint right now. It was the presence of her friends chained at her back and the unpredictability of the outcome that poured ice-water on her fury. When she regarded the channel again she saw it had a large amount of uneven footing which, in this instance, would help.

  “You coming?” she asked Saint.

  Their jailer grinned. “All the way.”

  They inched down the slope, urged on by the beer-swilling mercs, all the way to the bottom. It was much hotter down here. Alicia recalling seeing people frying eggs in this kind of heat.

  Saint mopped his brow as they came to a halt, scooped up a bottle of water from a completely incongruous cool-bag resting on the floor by his feet. It was bright blue and sported a pattern of stars around the top.

  “You’re fighting for water,” Saint said, then swigged half the bottle. He threw the other half into Alicia’s face which, in truth, was a blessing.

  Saint turned to a guard. “Untie Myles. She’s up first.”

  Alicia felt her chains loosened and then she was free of the restraints and the chain. Instantly she lunged at Saint, but the man stepped back fast and a guard with a gun nipped in at her side. His weapon was pointed at her legs.

  “Your choice.” Saint smirked. “Either way, you’re gonna fight.”

  Alicia saw sense and backed off. Guards were everywhere and stationed around the floor of the bowl in a rough circle. Guns were held ready, not easily. Saint made it clear he would only unchain one person at a time.

  She saw no way out of this.

  She wiped her face, getting the last droplets of water and transferring them into her mouth. Since they had taken her Kevlar and jacket, she was left with a white T-shirt and combat trousers. The direct sun burned her exposed skin.

  Saint raised his hands and stilled the crowd. He turned three hundred and sixty degrees, grin flashing, stubble gleaming with sweat.

  “First bout,” he said. “Alicia Myles versus the MMC.”

  A cheer went up. Men and women in the crowd stamped their feet and tapped their rifle butts against the floor. Some whistled. Many more called for blood.

  “You killed some of their friends,” Saint whispered out of the corner of his mouth. “Our bosses thought this a good way for you to go out. We did too.”

  He backed away, the eternal laugh piping out of his mouth. Alicia didn’t take her eyes from him. “What’s the MMC?”

  “Oh, just a pet name. It stands for massive meaty chap. There’s always one in every fight. Enjoy!”

  Alicia stood on the floor of the arena, vision full of blinding sunlight. Grit scraped beneath her boots as she shifted stance. Sweat coated her entire body and dripped off her face. She was ready to fight, focused, determined to help her friends by winning; by always looking ahead and never back.

  From an alcove across the other side of the ring a shadow moved. It came around the corner—large, bulky, moving at a slow pace. Alicia waited for it to emerge, then saw a man the size of Kinimaka, but with added muscle and a little more height. His face was hard and crisscrossed with scars. When he set eyes on Alicia he boomed out a peal of laughter.

  “This?” he bellowed. “All you bring me is this?”

  Alicia harnessed her rage. Here, finally, was a target she could unleash on. And size had never bothered her. Truth be told, she mused. In some instances it had its advantages. Or so experience told her.

  Saint shrugged. “She is the first. She did us all wrong. Do not make it quick.”

  The MMC slapped his bare chest. “It will be hard with such a twig, but I will do my best.”

  Alicia stalked to the center of the arena. “Twig? What . . . are ya trying to date me?”

  “Date?” The MMC looked startled. “Never, I prefer my women with more meat on their bones.”

  “Really? To me, you look like you prefer men.”

  The MMC roared. Saint held up a long, bloodied machete, ready to start proceedings. “Maybe don’t talk to her,” he suggested calmly. “This ain’t Jimmy fucking Fallon.”

  The machete carved a slice of air.

  Alicia planted her feet in the center of the arena.

  Her adversary charged.

  CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

  Alicia skipped aside, using her pace. The MMC lumbered by, an arm outstretched which Alicia saw coming a mile off. Easily, she ducked past that and came back around. Beyond the slobbering monster she saw her team, all watching with worry, agonizing over the outcome, heavily guarded. It was also dreadfully clear that the arena was going to be the place they died, one by one, on this day or another.

  Alicia darted one way, then the other, upsetting her big opponent, and managed to leave a trailing leg as she passed him by. She hoped he’d trip, but all he did was bark her shin with his huge ankle bone, making her curse aloud.

  The crowd laughed, enjoying her pain. Alicia looked up into the bright sky
for a moment then immediately wished she hadn’t.

  The MMC charged and her retina was just pure white light. She skipped back, stumbled on a rock and fell. The MMC was over her. He roared and kicked out, the blow glancing off her ribs as she twisted away. She rolled, kept her eyes shut to help clear her vision, then snapped them open and leapt to her feet.

  The MMC was right in front of her.

  “Strike one!” Saint shouted.

  His feet struck her stomach, doubling her over. Alicia felt pain; but where normally she would summon a surge of power and agility to get her the hell out of there, today the lack of food and water was taking its toll.

  She fell to her knees. The MMC placed a hand on top of her head and mimed something at the crowd, to which they all burst out laughing. Alicia heard it and the callous hatred that surrounded her, found the inner fury and embraced it.

  She rose fast, a fist clenched and punching up right into the MMC’s scrotum. The man howled and then staggered, cupping the area and blowing hard. Alicia saw her only opportunity.

  She struck out with lightning blows, each a devastating strike. The MMC took them all, barely flinching. Red marks crossed his chest, neck and face. The pain in his groin made him throw up into the dust. The crowd jeered and Saint couldn’t stop the laughter. She heard encouragement from Dahl and Drake. She worked her way around to the back of the enormous slab of beef, wondering where the sweet spot was.

  Having already tried most of the nerve clusters, she was slightly at a loss. But she was sprightly and unharmed, apart from a deep pain in her stomach. The MMC lashed out, an elbow catching her waist. Pain exploded. Alicia backed off. He lashed out again, this time striking only hot air.

  He panted, rose to his feet, head hanging. Liquid poured off him in torrents and his black hair hung lankly. He came forward. Alicia bent, grabbed two handfuls of dust and flung them into his eyes. He stood there, rubbing them, blind for a moment.

  Alicia ran in, leaped and landed a stunning front kick to his kidneys, followed it with multiple strikes. The MMC groaned and finally flinched. The effort had drained her though, drained her considerably.