by Rob Jones
Hawke, Lea and Vincent caught up with her and made their way toward the base of the château. From this high up they were able to look down at the valley below all the way to El Serrat.
Hawke considered the awesome mountain vista and saw the advantages to the location at once, and not just for the original French counts. The place was perfectly situated for any search of the Basque region, which is exactly why the mysterious Álvaro Sala must have chosen it as his headquarters, but now it was time to break that particular party up.
Ahead of them was a gatehouse. Hawke studied it and frowned. His mind began to fill with various strategies they could use to storm the building.
“What’s the problem?” Scarlet asked.
“I was just thinking about what sort of charge we’d need to get through those gates. They look pretty substantial.”
“We don’t need any bloody explosives when we have this,” Scarlet said, holding up her fist.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Château Sala, Andorra
Scarlet tapped on the gate as cool as ice. A security guard opened a small wicket gate which was around head height and squinted at her in the darkness.
“Què vols?” he said gruffly in Catalan.
“I seem to have lost my way,” Scarlet said, doing all but fluttering her eyelashes.
The guard switched on a powerful electric light above the gatehouse and leaned closer to the small opening for a better look. He liked what he saw, and made no effort to hide his leering, stubbly grin.
“Estàs sol, anglesa?” His eyes swivelled quickly as he scanned to see if the woman was on her own. Thanks to the others hiding up against the curve of the wall, it looked like she was.
“I really just need a telephone.”
He peered around the sides of the wicket gate once again and then slammed it in her face.
“Oh excellent,” Lea whispered. “I see your charm worked just like usual.”
Scarlet scowled. “Well maybe we wouldn’t even be here if you hadn’t been so bloody secretive about those research files!”
“No – wait,” Hawke said. “He’s opening the gate.”
The heavy gate swung open and the man nodded his head with satisfaction as Scarlet stepped through and drew nearer to him. He seemed less amused when she pulled a gun on him and pressed its muzzle into his sweaty neck.
“Take me to your leader, Vaquero.”
Before she had finished the sentence Hawke, Lea and Vincent stepped out of the shadows and emerged into the broad inner courtyard of the château.
“Good evening, sir!” Lea said, walking past the guard.
The man moved forward slowly, not lifting his anxious eyes from the gun which Scarlet was now pointing at his crown jewels. As they passed the end of the gatehouse their captive made a bid for freedom, diving inside on the floor and slamming his hand down on a button fixed to the bottom of the desk. Seconds later an alarm boomed all over the château.
“Oh, sod it!” Scarlet said, booting the man across his face and instantly knocking him unconscious, but it was too late. Searchlights were activated and moments later Sala’s goons were running all over the château, armed and ready for action.
They headed for the cover of some bushes which were growing up against the north side of the main building. Inside their shadows, Hawke saw a wooden door tucked away a few yards further down the wall. Outside in the yard several armed men were now congregating and starting their search in an attempt to track them down.
Hawke aimed his gun at the door’s lock. “Time for us to exit stage right, I think.”
“Just get the bloody thing open,” Scarlet said. “They’re getting closer.”
“I count at least ten,” said Vincent.
Hawke fired once and blew the ageing mechanism from its housing. Immediately the men knew their location and began to run over to the door, screaming orders in Catalan and waving their guns and flashlights in all directions. Somewhere in the distance behind them Hawke heard the unmistakable sound of two or three Alsations barking wildly.
They ran inside and slammed the door shut behind them. They were in a small, damp hall with a corridor leading away to the east and a circular staircase of white plaster and stone leading both up and down.
Hawke saw a heavy chest against the wall. It was filled with old boots and walking sticks but before he could touch it Scarlet had already wedged it against the door.
“That should keep the tosspots busy for a while,” she said, dusting her hands off.
The second she said it, they heard someone trying the door, and then after a few more orders were barked in Catalan, the men outside began ventilating the door with their submachine guns. Dozens of bullets ripped through the old wood, blasting the panels to shards. Moonlight poured in through the holes until all that was left was a shredded mullion in the shape of a cross.
“Time for another one of our exits, don’t you think?” Lea said.
But it was too late. Suddenly, the small space was crawling with Sala’s men, the barrels of their guns flashing in the moonlight as they poured into the hall. Hawke jumped into the fray, smashing the butt of his pistol into the lead man’s face and breaking his jaw.
Lea winced when she heard the cracking sound and then she, Scarlet and Vincent piled in behind him and started to get their hands dirty.
Hawke grappled with another man – a tall individual with wild, staring eyes and greasy black hair. Whoever he was, he was good and knew more than a few moves. For a second he got the better of the Englishman, wrapping his arm around his neck and choking him, but then Hawke managed to force him backwards until he lost his footing and fell back against the chest.
The man released his grip to try and get his balance back and stop his fall, and in that second Hawke rammed his fist up into his jaw. Then he brought his other hand around in a classic haymaker, wildly swinging a second clenched fist down hard into the bridge of the man’s nose. Another terrible cracking sound as the nose gave way, and then Hawke finished the job by yanking an old Tassel loafer from the top of the pile in the chest and striking the man hard around the side of the head with its heel, instantly knocking him unconscious.
One of the men saw him get knocked out. “Deprez!”
The other men glanced over but fought on – obviously Hawke had taken out their leader, and a moment later he recognized the name. The man he had just knocked out was the serial killer Eden had warned them about.
Vincent was grappling with a man on the floor, each armed with a hunting knife and trying to cut the other man’s throat. It was a fight to the death, but the Frenchman was never in any doubt who would win. His superior strength prevailed as he forced his heavy arm down against the man’s weaker arm muscles and killed him on the stone floor.
Across the room Scarlet was elbowing a man in the face. He staggered backwards giving the former SAS officer time to plant a hefty spinning heel kick in his groin. He groaned loudly and moved his hands down instinctively to protect himself, at which point she aimed an axe kick with lethal accuracy at his face and knocked him off his feet. He landed with a smack on the stone floor and Scarlet muttered something about him being lucky that she hadn’t debagged him instead.
Lea ended her struggle with the last man by planting her knee in his groin and introducing the butt of her Glock to his face at the same time. He staggered back and the Irishwoman finished the point by sweeping her boot behind his ankles and hooking him off his feet. He tipped back and fell down the steps into the darkness.
“That’s them done and dusted,” Scarlet said, wiping the dirt and blood from her hands. “Now for Sala.”
“And that bastard, Smets,” Vincent said. “He treated me like shit in the Legion, and now he pays for it, hein?”
They ran up the steps to the upper levels of the château. From the scarce information Velasco had given to Eden, they knew Sala’s private apartments were on the top floor, and deciding to start there was the obvious choice to make.
At the end of the corridor they were faced with a choice of two final rooms. On the left was what looked like a library of some sort – walls of books stretching from floor to ceiling and a handful of expensive leather chairs dotted around some reading tables. The whole scene was lit by dim, amber lamps fixed to the walls.
“In there?” Lea asked.
Before Hawke could reply gunmen opened fire on them from the other room. They dived for cover inside the library, Hawke and Lea on one side of the door and Scarlet and Vincent on the other. Vincent fired back with a vengeance, shielding Scarlet from the incoming rounds.
“I never knew you cared, Vincent,” she said. “But I fight my own battles.”
She leaned around him and shot one of the men in the throat. He fell back, pointlessly gasping for air as blood pumped from his severed carotid arteries and sprayed out into the room. He collapsed in a heap on the floor while another man took cover behind an expansive desk, firing back single-burst shots at them, blasting splinters out of the doorframe and tearing holes in the floorboards at their feet.
Taking cover behind Hawke’s broad back, Lea squinted and fired a single shot at the man’s leg which she could see through the knee hole in the desk. She struck the tibia and the man screamed in agony as the bone shattered. As he fell to the floor gripping his leg with his hands, Lea fired a second shot and ended his life.
Hawke looked at her. “Get out the wrong side of bed this morning?”
“He was begging for it.”
They crossed the corridor and entered the room. Looking around they saw instantly it must be Sala’s study. The large desk the man had tried to use for cover was covered in old scrolls, and large maps of the ancient world adorned the apple-white plaster walls. Above them was an impressive gilded ceiling with a painting of a god holding a thunderbolt.
“Thor,” Hawke said.
“And is that what I think it is?” Scarlet said, pointing her gun at the long piece of wood on the desk.
“Bloody hell,” Hawke said. “I think it just might be!”
He leaned forward and picked it up. It was without a doubt the same strange split piece of wood they had first seen back in Javier’s secret loft chamber. He weighed it in his hands and looked carefully at the intricate carvings. “I think this is our lost little baby all right – here, take a look.”
He handed it to Lea and her eyes wandered over the severed symbols. “This is it, no doubt about it, but no sign of the cloak. Wait… did you hear that?”
“What?” Scarlet’s eyes darted to the door but there was no one there.
Vincent turned and readied his knife. “What did you hear?”
“Nothing,” Lea said, returning her gaze to the handle. “I just thought I heard…”
And then, without any warning, the ground beneath their feet gave way and they began their descent into darkness.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
They fell down the chute for several seconds, mercifully falling at a slight incline which slowed their fall. The walls of the tunnel were smooth and obviously carved by man.
Before any of them had a chance to speak or even scream, they hit the bottom – a soft fall because of a thick layer of straw on the floor. They got their bearings back and began to look around their new home. It looked like a natural cavern in the shape of a tear-drop and they could see no way out other than the way they had just arrived.
They looked up the gently inclining tunnel and saw the gilded ceiling of Sala’s study – the face of Thor looking down on them, with disapproving menace.
Scarlet stood up and began to dust herself down. “Oh, well this is just another fine mess you two have got me into. I’m going to start calling you Laurel and Hardy, I think.”
Vincent got to his feet and gave an appreciative nod. “Ah, a comedy classic.”
“Hey, that’s not fair, Cairo,” Hawke said. “Lea looks nothing like Oliver Hardy.”
Lea slapped his shoulder. “Hey! She meant you were Hardy, right?”
Scarlet pursed her lips. “You’re making my point for me now.”
“What are you talking about?” Lea said, getting to her feet and squaring up to her.
“Well, just then when you slapped Joe,” said Scarlet. “You may as well have knocked his bowler hat off or pinched his nose.”
Lea put her hands on her hips “Nose pinching was the Three Stooges, ya eejit.”
“Was it?” Scarlet asked.
“Yes it bloody was!” Lea said. She turned to Hawke. “Was it?”
Hawke sighed as he got to his feet. “Yes.”
“I told you!” Lea said, jabbing Scarlet in the arm. “And that would make you Zippo!”
Hawke sighed again. “It was Zeppo, not Zippo! And he was in the Marx Brothers not a Stooge.”
“Was he?”
Hawke and Vincent nodded simultaneously.
“Are we really having this conversation?” Scarlet said, raising her hands in the air with disbelief.
“Wait,” Lea said. “So who was Zippo with – the Stooges?”
“Oh my God!” Scarlet said, tipping her head back and sighing deeply. Looking up at the trapdoor she froze. “Ah…”
Hawke and Lea stopped talking and looked at her. “What is it?”
“We have company!” Scarlet said, and pointed at the trapdoor.
They stared up at the circular aperture, at least thirty feet above them, and saw the figures of two men appear on the rim.
“Holy craparola!” Lea said as she glanced at them.
Scarlet sighed. “Seconded.”
“I knew I should have ignored your phone call,” said the Frenchman with a sigh.
One of the men was wearing a herringbone suit with an open-necked black shirt, and stood casually with one hand in his pocket. He wore rimless glasses and had long, black hair that hung forward as he peered over into the pit, but the feature that really stood out was that he was holding a golden straw-colored snake in his hands.
They’d never seen the man with long hair before, but they recognized the man beside him immediately. He was the creature behind the vicious attack on Victoria’s beach house back in the Florida Keys who had snatched Lea and the flash drive. Worse, he was the man who had led the assault on the castillo in the Basque Country and murdered Javier and Gunnar before fleeing with the cloak of invisibility and the axe handle. Now, he was standing above them with a KRISS Vector submachine gun gripped in his hands.
The man with long hair gave them a grim smile. “Ah – bona nit, my friends. Please, don’t get up.” He laughed at his own joke and gently caressed the snake.
Hawke knew they were totally vulnerable. With a weapon like the KRISS, the ape on the right could turn all three of them into Swiss cheese in half a second and there was nowhere to run.
“Who are you?” Hawke shouted.
“I am Álvaro Sala, and this is Leon Smets. I believe you had the pleasure of his company in Florida.”
The goon with the KRISS gave them a mocking grin and bowed his head. Now Hawke saw the grenade tattoo once again, and so did Vincent.
“You bastard, Smets!” Vincent yelled.
Leon Smets leaned over the pit and grinned as a look of recognition crossed his face. “Wait – Legionnaire Deuxieme Classe Reno? Could that be you?”
“Why don’t you come down and find out?” Vincent said. “I owe you something.”
“Why don’t you shut your mouth?” Smets said.
Sala hushed Smets and took a step closer. “I am to presume from your presence here that you successfully overcame my men… Tell me, what happen
ed to Deprez?”
“If you mean the baboon downstairs,” Hawke shouted up, “I gave him the boot.”
Sala looked at Hawke with cold, emotionless eyes. “You are very funny considering your death is only moments away.”
“Oh yeah?” Lea shouted. “So what are you going to do about this then?” She waved the axe handle in the air. “If you want your little clue back you’re going to have to come down here and get it, ya loser!”
Sala smiled. “I think not. We have already taken several photographs of the handle, so you are more than welcome to keep it for yourself. Perhaps you can use it to try and defend yourselves!” He let out a low chuckle.
Lea turned to Hawke and Scarlet and lowered her voice. “Defend ourselves against what, guys?”
Hawke shrugged his shoulders.
“That’s very kind of you,” Scarlet shouted back. “But how can an axe handle defend us against your breath?”
“You will see this is no laughing matter, but now I must go.” Sala gently rubbed his lips, lost in the moment. “When I find what I seek, the world you know will be destroyed forever. Everything you think you know about humanity will be smashed on the rocks of the epiphany I will bring to you all…” he paused and drew a long, deep breath. “I have few regrets in my long life, Lea Donovan. One is not being able to watch you die in this snake pit, and the other is not being chosen to kill your father.”
Lea’s blood ran cold, but before she could find any words, Álvaro Sala dropped the snake into the pit and ordered Smets to close the trapdoors.
The snake hit the straw and lashed out with a violent hiss. Hawke and the others jumped out of its way and kept a concerned eye on it as Smets continued to shut the doors.
Now with one door closed, all they could see were each other’s outlines. Then, as Smets hauled up the other half of the trapdoor and secured the bolts, total darkness fell upon them.
“Joe?”
Hawke heard Lea’s voice in the dark, small and scared. “It’s okay.”
