The Carnival of Curiosities (Matt Drake Book 27)

by David Leadbeater

  Drake glared at Mihai. “Wanna talk or continue being a human kebab?”

  Mihai kicked and snarled, pinned under Kinimaka’s grip but undaunted. Blood trickled from the wound in his thigh.

  Drake stabbed him again. Mihai let out a strangled, muted scream. Drake punctured him for a third time and then grinned at Hayden. “Where next? Bicep?”

  Mihai was starting to understand that Drake could do this all night. The men who’d tried to rescue him were zip-tied and rolled under a truck, still unconscious. Shaw hovered behind Mihai. Only Cam stayed in the darker shadows, out of sight. They’d figured seeing Cam would distract Mihai far too much.

  “If I keep doing this,” Drake hissed into Mihai’s face. “The rest of your life, everything you do, will never be the same. These wounds are gonna ache on those cold days, mate, and sooner or later I’m gonna snag a tendon. Your choice.”

  Mihai snarled some more. Mai let out another warning, but this time an inebriated snake charmer walked past—a tall man staggering through the darkness holding a basket half his size—and presenting a surreal sight that made half the team shake their heads and doubt their eyes. He passed within a foot of Mai and in sight of Mihai, but never noticed anyone.

  Drake prepared to sink the blade into Mihai once more.

  The young man stopped struggling. He went slack in Mano’s grip and tried to hold up both hands. “No more,” he whispered as the Hawaiian eased his grip. “The trucks are a thirty-minute walk east from here. Truck stop.”

  “I have it,” Hayden said after a minute of sliding Google Maps around on her phone. “Busy place. Perfect for lying low.”

  “Then that’s where we’re going,” Drake said. “And you’re coming with us.”

  They tied Mihai’s hands and feet and threw him across Kinimaka’s back. The proud Lupei would make the journey head down, ass up, and feeling ever-increasingly sea-sick.

  The team remembered their training and fell into a double-time jog through the woods, making the journey in half Google’s predicted time. When they reached the truck stop, they threw Mihai to the ground.

  “Which ones?” Hayden asked with a boot on the man’s chest.

  Mihai rose to his knees and peered through the bushes and trees at the vast truck stop. Hundreds of vehicles of all shapes and sizes were parked in countless rows, some with engines idling, some in silence. Mihai tottered, gritting his teeth in pain.

  “The far side,” he said. “Beyond the blue truck. There are five red and white Volvos.”

  “Five?” Drake gritted his teeth in anger. “You really are evil little weasels, aren’t you?”

  They left Mihai trussed in the gentle care of Shaw and her knives, and started out across the truck stop’s wide paved area. A biting wind swept across the wide-open space, spreading diesel fumes so thick they choked the air. Drake saw truck drivers eating, sleeping and chatting, letting friends and prostitutes into their cabs and heading for the washrooms. Nobody looked at them as they navigated the truck stop and headed directly for the five red and white trucks.

  Something was different over here. Drake saw it straight away. Men stood in front of and at the back of the five trucks, pretending to lounge but keeping a watchful eye out. The way they were dressed, in long black overcoats, screamed “concealed weapon,” and the way they held themselves spoke to Drake of military training.

  “Guards,” he said. “I count twelve. I also see five drivers and passengers. Let’s give it a minute to see who else comes along.”

  In three separate groups, they walked parallel to the Volvos, attracting little attention. Drake noted that the trucks were parked at the very edge of the blacktop area with a grassy hill rising up on their blind side.

  “Guys,” he said. “I have an idea.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

  Drake scrambled to the top of the small hill on his stomach, peering over the apex at the trucks below. All five were parked in a single row, side by side, their guards walking back and forth to stay warm. Dirty, dilapidated canvases with red lettering and a picture of a cow were strapped over their rear containers, but Drake could see they were entirely for show. The canvas covered steel frames that were no doubt escape-proof and soundproof.

  “Seven of us, twenty-two of them,” he said. “I can’t see this being a major problem.”

  “Only twelve genuine guards,” Mai said.

  Drake waited for classic Dahl then, something like: “I’ll take care of them,” but remembered the Swede was on another mission with Alicia. God help Dahl. Drake focused on the here and now.

  “Hit them before someone misses Mihai,” Hayden said. “We ready?”

  “If we stick to the blind side,” Drake said, pointing below to where the trucks were close to the grassy bank. “We should attract less attention.”

  “Until they get trigger happy,” Mai said.

  Drake shrugged. They could only do their best. Staying low, he scrambled down the bank with the team to both sides. Ahead, a guard had stopped and lowered his head to light a cigarette, cupping the lighter with both hands. Drake used the momentum gained by sliding down the slope to shoulder barge him into the side of the truck. His head struck with a satisfying clang before he slithered unconscious to the ground.

  Drake searched the man, grabbing a Glock, a battered AK47, and a handheld radio. To his right, Mai had similar luck with another guard, rising before him, watching his eyes go wide and then incapacitating him.

  Kenzie and Cam ran to the front of the first truck, where the driver and passenger were sat, eating and chatting. Cam wrenched open the door. Kenzie jumped onto the step, grabbed the driver by the arm, and wrenched him out for Cam to deal with. Then she jumped up into the cab.

  She plunged her knife into the bicep of the snarling man and clamped a hand over his mouth.

  Cam waited for his opponent to hit the asphalt before dealing with him. The man hit the back of his skull hard, immediately half-unconscious. Cam finished the job with a single punch.

  Meanwhile, Kinimaka was sneaking around the rear of the last truck.

  Exposed, he waited for two men along the row of five to saunter away before reaching under the canvas to test the back of the truck. It was indeed made of thick steel and secured by a heavy padlock. Kinimaka figured he could try to twist it off but would create more noise than necessary at this point and might not work. The big Hawaiian continued to the next truck.

  Drake had already rolled underneath the first, coming up on the other side and facing the second truck in the row of five. To his left, a man blinked in surprise before reaching inside his jacket.

  Drake leapt, striking exposed areas and driving the man to his knees. The man didn’t fold though. He pushed back at Drake and shoved him away. With a nasty grin he drew a handgun and pointed it point blank at Drake’s chest.

  “Your mistake—” he began.

  One of Shaw’s knives smacked into his left eye, killing him in an instant.

  Drake nodded at Shaw. “Thanks for coming.”

  The Native American dragged Mihai along with her. “All that target practice paid off.”

  “My father will kill—”

  Shaw punched Mihai in the mouth. “Shut up.”

  Drake nodded his appreciation once more. “Nice.”

  To his right, Kinimaka appeared. He could see Kenzie in the first cab, waiting. Cam came around the front of the first truck and pointed.

  The driver of the second truck had spotted them.

  Suddenly, everything went loud. The driver started shouting. Kinimaka saw another guard, who started yelling. Cam ran to the second truck, pulled open the door and reached for the driver. The passenger fired a bullet that skimmed both the driver’s and Cam’s heads, first stunning them and then enraging both of them.

  Drake rolled under the second truck, Mai at his side.

  Guards were aware, and on the move. Drake used the old handgun to shoot two of them, then lifted the AK.

  Mai grabbed a
nother guard and threw him into a steel wheel, cracking his head.

  Cam was already in the driver’s seat of the second truck, kicking the passenger out of the door. The man landed with a crunch just behind Drake.

  “Not what we wanted,” Drake complained. “But we can get the third truck too. C’mon.”

  This driver had conveniently opened his door and was aiming a Glock at Drake. The Yorkshireman fired first, bullets punching through the driver and jerking his body. The man slumped, tumbling from the cab. The passenger leaned over, AK outstretched.

  Kinimaka was running toward them. “Quickly,” he shouted. “They’re all coming!”

  Hayden had been taking care of a guard listening to loud music through Bluetooth headphones and leaning against the front of the second truck. Now, she reappeared with two AKs and threw one to Mano.

  “Take no prisoners.”

  “Never do with human traffickers,” Kinimaka said.

  Drake fired twice, blowing holes through the head of the third truck’s passenger before jumping up into the driver’s seat.

  Hayden followed quickly, pushing him further across to the passenger seat. Watching the team, Drake saw Mai jump in alongside Kenzie. Shaw threw Mihai to the ground and then climbed up into Cam’s truck.

  Kenzie had already started her truck, the old diesel engine grumbling away. Now, Cam started the second in line and Hayden the third. Kinimaka sprayed lead at the approaching guards as Shaw helped him clamber into their truck.

  In the next few seconds, all three engines roared as the trucks moved forward.

  “What the hell are we doing?” Drake asked.

  “Improvising!” Hayden yelled.

  Drake checked the back of the cabin, hoping to find a vision panel or hatch, but found the same sheet steel as the rest of the rear shell. No way to check what was in the back. Through his window he could see guards yelling, some with their arms up and others with radios to their ears, most unsure whether to shoot and risk hitting the precious cargo or give chase.

  Kenzie pulled ahead first, gunning her truck toward the truck stop’s exit. Cam followed and Hayden put her foot down, but struggled with the gears. “You want a bloody lesson?” Drake asked, wincing at the grinding sound.

  “I don’t do stick shift,” Hayden complained, wrenching at the stick.

  “Finesse,” Drake said. “Ram your foot down on the clutch and ease it into gear.”

  Hayden cursed but found first gear. The truck growled and started to roll. Guards were alongside, yelling at them to stop. Drake stuck his AK out the window and fired over their heads.

  Three trucks ground their way toward the exit, falling into line. The remaining guards and drivers either made snap decisions or followed orders and ran for the last two trucks, whose engines were already rumbling.

  Drake saw men and women all over the parking area, staring out of windows or standing in random groups, watching the mayhem.

  Ahead, Kenzie joined the main road and put her foot down. Cam followed with Kinimaka leaning out of the window, Glock in hand, aiming for the tires of the remaining trucks.

  Hayden went for a gear change, yanking at the stick so hard that Drake thought she’d snap it off.

  “You drive and engage the clutch,” he said, placing a hand over her fist. “I’ll change gear.”

  Hayden nodded. Drake slid through the gears smoothly and soon their truck, the last in line, was picking up speed. When Drake got a moment, he stuck his head out of the window to check the situation behind.

  “Bollocks,” he said. “They’re coming after us.”

  In front, Kenzie was powering down the long road in the dark. Being with Mai in the cab wasn’t helping to calm her driving style, and with no communication, Hayden and Cam in the second truck were forced to follow her.

  Kenzie powered down the long, straight road.

  “Do we know where we’re going?” Hayden asked.

  “I hope I do,” Drake said. “Nearest police station is eight miles north of here.”

  “Well, she’s on the right road at least.”

  Drake was distracted by bright headlamps shining in his sidemirror. The chasing trucks had experienced drivers and were closing fast.

  “Jump on the gas, Hayden,” Drake said. “We got company.”

  The five vehicles barreled down the long, dark road, headlamps cutting swathes through the night, veering from left to right and then back again, their sides whipped by passing overhanging branches. Kenzie led the way. Drake watched the trucks behind but didn’t see the men hanging out of the windows until the bullets started flying.

  A round glanced off the metal flank of his door. Another destroyed his sidemirror. Bullets thudded and skidded off sheet metal. Hayden hit a rut at the side of the road, fought the steering wheel for a minute, but managed to keep the truck straight. Her attention was half on the road, half on the poor, traumatized cargo in the back, who would be trying desperately to hang on and figure out what was happening. She could already hear screams.

  Drake thought quickly. First, he held the AK out of his window, fighting against the juddering airflow at seventy miles per hour, and let loose an automatic salvo backward. That would make those behind think twice. Next, he turned in his seat, leaned out and fired three shots with the handgun, aiming for the driver. All three bullets bounced off framework as Hayden struggled to keep the truck in line and avoid potholes.

  “Keep her steady!”

  “I’m trying! Look at Cam, he’s doing the friggin’ slalom.”

  Cam was indeed struggling to drive the big truck ahead. Drake imagined Kinimaka would be schooling him, but driving instruction from one of the clumsiest men in the western hemisphere was never going to have a positive outcome. Drake winced as those in the truck behind opened fire again.

  “Faster,” Drake said. “Get right up Cam’s arse. That might force Kenzie to put her bloody hoof down.”

  Hayden shook her head. “Your turns of phrase would undo a lesser woman.”

  Drake snapped his head forward in disbelief. The two chasing trucks had pulled out into the other lane and were trying to pass. The better drivers were pushing their vehicles to the limit and were inching past at over a hundred kilometers per hour.

  Headlamps filled Drake’s vision. Men were leaning out of windows and firing indiscriminately at all three escaping trucks. Bullets rebounded everywhere. The chasing truck was already halfway past Drake’s, eating up the distance. Hayden buried her foot through the floor, coaxing even more speed out of their engine.

  “Oh, my God.” Drake almost closed his eyes in dread. “There’s a car coming the other way.”

  Hayden reacted instantly, wrenching the wheel and rolling their truck as far to the right as possible. Its tires hit the verge then bounced over grass. Branches and thin tree-trunks snapped as it thundered by, greenery spreading across its roof. The chasing trucks followed her, pressing up alongside, barely dropping their speed, sparks shearing from the slight contact.

  The oncoming vehicle somehow managed to get by. Instantly, the chasing trucks gained more grip by moving back out onto the road. Their occupants opened fire once more.

  Drake ducked away as their windows shattered. Ahead, he saw Kenzie’s truck veer as at least one tire was punctured.

  “She’s gonna crash,” he said. “Brace for ground battle.”

  But Kenzie held on to the swerve. Shredded rubber slivers flew out from under her truck, followed by smoke. The vehicle slewed and then smashed through a wooden gate, roaring along a rutted farm track. Cam didn’t hesitate to follow, swerving his truck to take the same line. The lead chase truck was alongside him and followed suit, both vehicles smashing through wooden fencing and the remains of the gate.

  Hayden headed for the gap as the second chase truck came alongside them.

  Drake held on, knuckles white.

  “Shit,” he said, staring ahead as flashing lights appeared. “That’s the fucking carnival. We’re about to crash in
to the goddam carnival!”

  Hayden stood up and jammed her boot onto the brakes.

  CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

  Drake’s forehead smacked into the dash as Hayden jammed the brakes on. Steel discs squealed and grated. Mud and grass fountained around them. The back end started to slew but then caught as the carnival’s lights loomed closer.

  Ahead, Kenzie was also braking. Her back end veered to the right, coming around and swiping two trees, buckling the metal. Drake winced at the sight, thinking of the trauma those trapped in the back were going through; then grimaced again as one of the chase vehicles smashed into the rear end, jerking the truck to the side. Cam’s truck braked with more assurance, passing beyond Kenzie’s and traveling along the wide path that led into the carnival for several feet before crunching to a stop. Kinimaka and Shaw were already opening their doors, preparing to rush to the aid of Kenzie and Mai.

  Drake wiped blood from his head, checked his weapons, then looked to Hayden. The American was fine, just a little dazed.

  “What the hell do we do now?” she asked. “Kenzie’s brought us to their home soil.”

  “We fight,” Drake mumbled. “Like always.”

  Together, they jumped down from the cab onto soft earth, risking the fall rather than staying in the cab to be shot at. Around them, more truck doors were being flung open. A chaos of enemies and friends leapt or dropped from their trucks, knowing the fight would be won by those who recovered faster. Ahead, carnival-goers were approaching, curious as to what was going on.

  Hayden fired a warning shot in the air. “Run!”

  A man staggered toward Drake, gun raised but appearing half-dazed from the crash. Drake, still stunned by the bang on the head, watched as Hayden grabbed the man under an arm and threw him over her shoulder. When he landed on his own blade, Hayden turned away, bending down to help Drake to his feet. Guards, drivers and passengers were still jumping out of the chasing trucks. Drake, coming around, used his AK to thin the herd a little. Men fell back and collapsed to the floor or smashed against their own truck, spraying blood everywhere. Drake noticed still more on radios and cellphones.