Another explosion rocked the ancient building and brought them both stumbling to their knees. Anna-Maria glared at him as she flipped dusty hair off her face. "I rather doubt your ancestors had modern explosives in mind when they designed the walls."
"Would you care to take your chances back there?" asked Reginald, sweeping his arm back down the hallway. Gunfire erupted toward his study. He looked down at her impatiently and extended his hand. "I don't know about you, but I'd prefer to leave. Now."
He smiled as her grimy hand tilted itself into his and he pulled her up. Before he could say anything further, she reached up, grabbed the back of his head and kissed him passionately on the lips.
As they broke for air, the castle shuddering around them, she whispered, "Get me out of this alive, and I'll make it worth your while."
Reginald turned to leave. "I take it your answer is yes?"
She grabbed her shoes and ran beside him, her bare feet slapping at the smooth stone floor. "Get me out of here first!" she said with a smile.
"We shall honeymoon in Fiji!" he called, hopping over rubble from a partially collapsed side wall. "Away from all this—"
Out of the smoke that partially obscured the end of the hallway, a figure clad all in black emerged like a shade escaped from Hell itself. At a glance, Reginald saw he carried a varied assortment of weapons: a pistol on the hip, a bandoleer of ammunition pouches and grenades, a backpack full of God knows what, and goggles—six tubes of black eyes—strapped to the fellow's face. A nightmare come to life.
"Well, I'm glad to see I can still make people smile," said a deep voice with a Texas drawl.
"Who are you?" Anna-Maria snapped imperiously.
"U.S. Navy SEALs—drop your weapon. You two are coming with me."
God damn bloody SEALs. I knew I shouldn't have trusted the bloody Koreans. Incompetent fools certainly bollocksed things in San Diego. "You're supposed to be dead."
The man laughed. "Too stubborn to die, I guess. Now drop the weapon before I drop you."
Reginald clenched his jaw as the figure moved closer. No chance of successfully drawing his pistol and getting off a shot before the wraith in front of him pulled his own trigger. He clenched his fists in frustration.
In my own home, no less. The indignity of it all.
Someone screamed down the corridor behind him and a tremendous explosion shook the entire castle. Reginald had time to see fire brightening the world before his face rushed forward to kiss the harsh stone wall to his left. Everything descended into a queasy mix of fire and darkness, with woman screaming over distant gunfire.
CHAPTER 44
Skye, Scotland.
Dunkeith Castle.
COOPER BLINKED BEFORE BRUSHING the dust off his face. He blindly reached through the dense smoke, his hands stumbling over rocks and bits of gear. A sharp, stabbing pain from his right thigh brought his fuzzy senses back into sharp focus. Cooper groaned as he rolled on his side, gritting his teeth as the fire spread up his leg.
Bits of rubble fall from his back. "Check in…" he grunted.
Charlie coughed. "The fuck was that?"
"Jax?" asked Cooper as he struggled to his feet, grimacing in pain. He blinked again and looked around, but saw no sign of the Texan. Cooper looked back down the hallway. Deserted. The hallway ended in a cavernous blackness. He, Charlie, and Jax had breached the rear of the keep and emerged into what looked like ruins. They followed a long corridor lit with sputtering torches before suddenly emerging into a section of the castle that had seen at least something of a restoration. They'd only had to neutralize three guards along the way.
Before long, they'd passed locked storerooms leading to a fully lit corridor, complete with paintings on the plastered walls. A dense, red carpet runner lined the floor, trimmed with gold thread. The doors along this hallway had little brass nameplates nailed to them.
"Jax!" Cooper hissed. The hallway before him ended in a pile of rubble and crushed rock. He squinted into the dust and saw the ceiling had caved in at the junction where Jax had disappeared just after spotting the HVT.
Reginald. He was right there!
Charlie forged ahead climbing through the knee-deep pile of rocks, bricks, and mortar. "Jax! Come in!" He scrambled up the pile and pulled down bits of debris from the top.
Cooper turned and aimed his rifle down the hallway into the darkness. "Anything?" he asked over his shoulder.
"Negative," said Charlie's clipped voice. "There's too much debris—I can't get through. Jax!" Charlie yelled. "I can't see anything! Are you there? Jax!"
Cooper heard the rubble shift behind him and Charlie scampered down as more debris tumbled down out of the ceiling. "You got anything?" he asked.
Cooper scanned his wrist pad. "Damn thing's busted." Cooper checked his radio. "Overwatch, how copy?"
After a moment of crackling static, the sniper's voice emerged in Cooper's ear. "I got you, Hoss. What the hell is going on down there?"
"Might ask you the same thing. What was that?"
"One of the drones was just shot down. It crashed into the base of the keep."
"Well, that explains that…" muttered Charlie.
"Our friends are pressing the home team hard. Outer walls breached, but the defenders are putting up a fight. I'm picking off any that step out, but it looks like things are settling into a stalemate for now."
"Roger that," muttered Cooper. He glanced at Charlie. "It'll only be a matter of time before the son of a bitch gets more reinforcements. We're on his turf—we gotta move."
"We can't leave Jax. Not without knowing."
Cooper cursed and kicked a rock at his feet. "You know the layout of this place as well as I do. You go through that door and I'll go through this door. If 13's maps are accurate, we should meet in the hallway on the other side of this blockage. Ready?"
Charlie frowned. "I don't like splitting up."
"I don't either, but we don't have much of a choice. The clock's ticking." Cooper checked his rifle and dropped in a fresh magazine. He yanked back on the charging bolt and slipped the half-empty magazine into a pouch on his chest rig. "If his history is any indicator, Reginald's gonna be slipping out of here any minute. I can't let this son of a bitch get away again."
Charlie nodded, his face a ghostly gray under a thin layer of dust. "Roger that—let's move."
Cooper clapped Charlie on the shoulder, sending up a cloud of dust, then turned him toward the door to the right. Cooper turned to the left. "On three. One, two, three!"
They kicked the doors open at the same time. Cooper charged into a blackened room. "Going green," he muttered as he snapped down his night vision goggles. The world flickered and came to life in greens and blacks. He knew he would lose his depth perception, but with power in the castle unreliable, he hoped it would give him enough of an advantage to find Reginald.
Cooper crept through another empty storeroom, glancing over boxes and crates with labels such as 'Green Room', 'Grand Hall', and 'Study'. It looked like nothing had been touched in there for a generation. He crept closer to the far exit and froze when a light appeared on the other side of the heavy wooden door.
A shadow rushed past, and the light winked off again. Cooper's hand gripped the doorknob, and he turned it as slow as possible. When he was sure the bolt had passed the striker plate, he pulled the door open and quickly stepped through, cornering the room beyond.
Cooper found himself in one of the unmarked rooms on 13's map. She knew they existed, but not what they contained. He glanced around, his night vision picking up flickers of light flashing off metal all around him. He let out a low, quiet whistle.
"Found some sort of antique arms storeroom. You wouldn't believe the number of swords and shit they got in here…" he muttered.
"I'm in a storeroom—this guy's stocked up for years. Approaching the door to the hallway."
Cooper looked left and found an open door leading down the dark hallway. A light flickered at the end of the hallway,
causing a flare to spike in Cooper's vision.
Where did you go?
The hallway ended in a single door, partially blocked by another cave in. No threat from that quarter.
He turned and brought his rifle to bear on the door to the right, slightly ajar. Whoever the hell had been in here had gone through that door. He approached the door and half-crouched, clenching his teeth at the throb of pain shooting up his leg with every step. The dive suit was undamaged, but he was afraid to think what his leg must look like underneath. For the first time, he noticed he was sweating.
Not good. We gotta get Jax, get the HVT, and get the fuck outta here before I pass out and bleed to death.
Cooper opened the door with his left hand and stepped sideways into a long hallway. The lights flickered again at the far end. When the light was out, he saw movement—someone poked a head around the corner down there.
Cursing silently, he stepped out of the doorway and into a shadow on his left. He flipped the night vision out of his face and blinked. The light blinded him every time it turned on. Once his vision cleared, he raised his rifle to his shoulder and took aim at the corner where he'd seen the target.
The light winked on and Cooper saw a helmet for a split second before it disappeared back around the corner. He didn't see any night-vision apparatus, so when the light winked off again, he scrambled forward and paused.
It took about 15 seconds, but the light came back on. Cooper waited, sure the defender was getting nervous. As the light switched off, Cooper crossed the hallway and scrambled another 10 yards. He stopped just as the light turned on, and the helmet was there again at the end of the hallway. He heard a muffled shout and saw a shoulder appear.
The light blinked out, and he dove across the hallway as gunfire rolled toward him like thunder. Sparks flickered near the spot where he'd just been. Lying prone on the floor, he fired a three-round burst in the direction where he had last seen the helmeted head. No one was there, so his rounds ricocheted off the far wall. More shouting erupted, the voices indistinct.
"Shit," he grunted. There was definitely more than one down there. Staggering to his feet, he called out: "Contact! North hallway!"
"Hang on! I'm almost there," replied Charlie. "Don't do anything stupid."
"You know me…" He charged forward as the light winked on again. A surprised guard in an ill-fitting helmet met him at the corner. Cooper fired a three-round burst point blank into the guard's chest and neck. The man went down in a spray of blood.
Cooper stepped around the body and knelt. A set a stairs lay before him. He took the winding stone steps two at a time despite the pain in his leg and emerged onto a wide landing. The only light nearby came from his left where twenty feet ahead, a large wooden double door lay shattered on the floor. The doorway beyond opened into what appeared to be the castle's Great Hall.
Shit…took a wrong turn somewhere…
A jagged hole perforated the ceiling and a pile of rubble burned near the center of the large room. He crept to the corner of the doorway and noticed that whatever had crashed through the roof had set fire to the biggest wooden table he'd ever seen. Expensive chairs and what looked like crystal goblets lay shattered on the floor. Two tapestries on the far side of the room were partially in flames, hanging from threads as they died. The rest of the room was full of paintings of 18th-century soldiers, statesmen, and wildlife. A roaring fire in a huge 10 foot long fireplace competed against the blistering hot wreckage in the middle of the room. Smoke-filled the upper half of the cavernous ceiling—thick, black and roiling like a living creature.
He glanced around, checking bodies to make sure none moved. It looked like a fancy dinner had been interrupted. He picked out three liveried men, all prone on the floor near serving platters and silver trays. Spilled food and drink made the floor slippery, but he swept the room anyway, crouching painfully as he went until he cleared to the other side.
"Actual, be advised, I have movement in the Great Hall. Part of the drone crashed in there and it looks like somebody's snooping around."
"Overwatch, Actual. That's me—room's clear."
"I found Jax!" called out Charlie's voice.
"Alive?" asked Cooper, trepidation in his voice as he brought his rifle to bear on the only surviving door in the room.
"Barely—we gotta get him out of here soon or he won't make it. I got patched 'im up as best I can, but he needs EVAC. Now."
Cooper crept toward the door and froze as he heard a voice on the other side.
"This way, my dear. Once we get through the Great Hall, we shall reach the boat dock momentarily."
The door swung away from Cooper's hand before he could react, but his rifle was already on target as Reginald Tillcott, 7th Earl of Dunkeith stepped forward and stopped only when Cooper's rifle pressed against his chest.
"What the bloody hell—"
Jesus Christ, it's him! Cooper froze. The moment of his vengeance was at hand. He was alone, Reginald was right in front of him and his rifle pressed straight into the man's chest. All I have to do is squeeze…
"Another one!" asked Reginald, his voice full of disdain. "Let me guess…'I'm coming with you'," he said, mocking a southern accent.
Brenda's dead…because of you.
"You…" Cooper said through clenched teeth. "You killed her…"
That aristocratic face cracked into a wide smile. The mirth did not reach his eyes, but the man appeared genuinely amused. "My good man, I've killed a great many people in my life—but I take pleasure in knowing I have not personally killed a woman."
"Brenda Alston," Cooper said, his voice cracking, "Major, United States Army. She—" the door opened a fraction of an inch. His eyes saw the movement too late, focused as he was on Reginald's face. When he shifted his attention, he noticed the open maw of a semiautomatic pistol aimed straight at his forehead.
Reginald laughed. He kicked the door open, revealing the pistol attached to the graceful arm of a woman—disheveled and bloody. She jutted her chin out and raised both eyebrows, looking at him as if he was her pool boy and had skipped out on cleaning the pool.
"I do hope you will allow me to make introductions?" Reginald said. "May I present to you Lady Anna-Maria Brunner of Austria..."
"Coop! The fuck is going on?" Charlie squawked. "Is that him?"
Cooper stared at the woman who held the unwavering gun pointed at his face in a steady hand. Safety's off, she's not gonna blink. Finger's on the trigger—she knows what she's doing. He swiveled his eyes back to Reginald.
"Oh, if you could see your face just now!" he laughed.
"Cooper!" yelled Charlie.
"Actual, be advised, we got a large group of enemy foot mobiles approaching from the town!"
Between the radio chatter in his ear and shifting his attention between the woman with the gun and Reginald, Cooper had time to see the tip of a taser appear to his left. A servant Cooper swore was dead, appeared to be anything but.
Shit.
CHAPTER 45
Salmon Falls, Idaho.
DENNY WALKED THE DESERTED streets of Salmon Falls. Unarmed, tired, heart-sick of fighting, he walked with a purpose.
I did everything I could. One man can only do so much, he told himself as he moved past burned, boarded-up shops. Trash littered the sidewalks. Cars—many riddled by bullets—blocked side roads at random. To the south, homes still smoldered.
He accomplished a lot for one man.
Townsen—hapless redneck, blessed by luck to survive the Korean Flu and step into the Russian-caused power vacuum by force of arms, was nothing less than a walking disaster.
Denny clenched his fists as he turned onto Main Street and saw the first spectators. Townsen had forced the whole town to watch Denny's surrender and humiliation. The shamed look on the faces of those he passed told him almost everyone who watched had already given up.
If such is the price of peace, I will pay it, Denny reminded himself. I just need to get close…just for a
second.
Surrender he may but give up, he would never. .
"Sorry, Denny…" a voice across the street called out.
Armed men behind the haggard civilians maintained silent order among the watchers.
"This is sick," muttered someone to his left. A rifle rose and fell with a wet smack and a few people gasped. Denny kept walking.
Just let me get close to him…
Tired, hungry faces watched him as he walked toward City Hall. A knot of people had formed on the steps. As he approached, a low murmuring rippled through the crowd.
"There he is!"
"My husband died because of you!" shrieked a woman's voice.
"Damn you!" shouted a man.
Denny clenched his jaw and ignored the accusations. Loyalists surrounded Townsen. He stared straight ahead, focused on the impromptu stage before him. Townsen, flanked by his cronies, smirked down at him from the top step.
A sticky glob slapped Denny's cheek. He wiped his face on his sleeve. It began—the crowd surged forward, full of angry, twisted faces and clawing hands. His clothes twitched and jerked as if alive—something hard hit the back of his arm. Then things rained down on him—rotten fruit, trash, even empty bottles.
Denny ducked the heavier objects he spotted in the air but otherwise ignored the incoming projectiles. Likewise, he ignored the insult, shouts, and punches. He pushed forward, eyes locked on Townsen's sneer, stumbling and staggering under the assault.
Just one second. That's all I ask. Grant me one moment…
Something heavy hit him in the back of the head and Denny fell to his knees. Through the spots flitting across his vision, he saw trash and filth all around him. A booted foot swished past his face and hit his ribs, causing him to cry out in pain.
"Back up!" growled the voice over the crowd. "Back the fuck up! Let him get up! Now!"
Firestorm: Book III of the Wildfire Saga Page 33
