Kenzie, Cam and Shaw were at his side; cut, bleeding and bruised, but still standing. Kenzie carried two samurai swords and there was a satisfied, feral glint in her eyes.
Nineteen samurai climbed to their feet.
Dahl watched as they gathered on the far side of the pool. It had been a tough, lengthy battle so far and they were taking a few moments’ respite. Seeing them grouped together like that gave the Swede an idea.
It’s fucking crazy, he thought. But it might just end this battle.
Without a second thought, or consultation with his team, he spun and ran back toward the house. Every second counted.
The samurai saw him but didn’t react, instead hefting their swords and checking their wounds. Their leader, it seemed, was dead.
Dahl poured on as much speed as he could, watching the samurai from one eye and Zuki on top of the house from another. Twice, he skidded on the slick grass, almost falling headlong.
Zuki was looking backward at the man trying to reload her RPG.
Dahl skidded, slowing down, and then dived at pace into the first helicopter he came to. In the pilot’s seat he jabbed at buttons, bringing the rotors to life. The engine rumbled. The main console flashed with lights.
Hauling on the collective, he lifted the chopper off the ground.
The samurai were ready to move, assembled in a wedge formation and facing Kenzie, Cam and Shaw. Kenzie looked like she wanted to take them all on, weaving her sword through the air in preparation.
As Dahl spun the chopper around so that its nose faced the pool, he got a final look at Zuki.
The rocket was loaded. Her finger was on the trigger.
Dahl hit the comms button. “Get the royals out of there!”
Shaw exploded into action, sprinting around the side of the sauna. Kenzie and Cam were ready to defend her.
Dahl lifted the chopper higher, blocking Zuki’s line of sight. A terrible itch fired up across his shoulders as he imagined the RPG lined up on him.
Now or never.
Dahl didn’t think about consequences. He never did. He powered the helicopter forward, making the nose dip and the tail rotor rise, taking aim at the collected samurai as if the chopper was a dart and they were the bull’s eye.
The helicopter flew true, straight at the samurai.
Dahl saw disbelief in their faces, their eyes, as this madman came at them, the chopper angling at their legs. He knew they were trying to figure out what was happening because they couldn’t believe their opponent was about to commit suicide with a helicopter.
He wasn’t.
Once the chopper was flying as fast and low as space and time allowed, Dahl dived out of the door, landing in the swimming pool. The huge, juddering craft flew on, clearing the pool and crashing into the other side, first the nose and then the rotors slamming through the samurai and into the building behind. Dahl stayed underwater as fire momentarily obliterated the world above.
Seconds later, his head broke the surface. Treading water, he viewed the scene. Or rather, what was left of it.
The gym was in ruins, with only shattered walls and timbers remaining. Its roof had collapsed.
The paved area and tiles bordering the pool were a broken, smoldering ruin. A smoking hole lay where the helicopter had crashed. The craft itself was a mass of twisted metal.
Around it lay dead, mangled bodies.
Dahl winced, feeling sorry for the samurai despite their intentions. It was a bad way to go. None were moving. Dahl had just started to turn to see how Kenzie and the others were faring when a scream rang out.
“Go under!”
A strange request, but it was Kenzie’s voice and Dahl heard the fear in it. Without a second thought he ducked underwater and headed for the bottom of the pool. In the back of his mind, he knew what was about to happen.
Instead of firing at the royals, Zuki gave into rage and had loosed the missile at him.
Seconds later, he had confirmation.
There was a dull impact as the rocket hit the water and an explosion as it hit one of the pool’s walls. The detonation underwater sent out a shockwave that lifted tons of water out of the pool.
Dahl was caught helplessly in the middle of it.
*
Drake and Alicia rushed after Mai as she pounded up the staircase to the next floor.
Rain smashed against the windows overlooking the rear lawns. Storm clouds gathered around the sun. Drake got a brief glimpse of Dahl running toward the nearest helicopter.
“That can’t be bloody good,” he muttered.
“It won’t end well,” Alicia agreed as she ran. “For the bad guys.”
“Bad guys?” Drake raced down a long corridor after Mai. “That’s Torsten Dahl there, love. It’s not gonna end well for anyone.”
Mai disappeared ahead. Drake raised his Glock. Alicia didn’t slow.
They found an open door to the left and heard Mai clambering up more stairs. As Drake stepped onto the risers, Mai grunted. A flailing body fell down the stairwell, crunching to a sudden stop below. Drake pushed his legs harder to try to catch the fleet Japanese woman.
Above, a door opened out onto the roof.
Drake rushed out as he’d seen Mai do seconds earlier. The roof was a vast rectangle the size of several football pitches, the flat space broken here and there by raised skylights, solar panels and the hips and valleys that formed the roof. A cold wind scoured it from east to west and a darkening sky hung overhead, bloated by the onrushing storm.
Drake spotted Zuki to the west, perched at the edge of the roof, still holding her rocket launcher. He saw her cheer. He gritted his teeth and ran.
Mai was ten steps ahead of him.
Zuki had four guards. They spun as they heard the Japanese woman’s approach, dropping their katanas and levelling their guns at her midriff.
They fired, but Mai was no longer there, rolling through the air above their line of sight before striking two of them full in their chest with her heels.
Both guards staggered to their knees.
The two still standing tried to bring their weapons to bear. The first turned into Mai’s spinning back-kick. The second met her punishing front kick. Ribs cracked. The man lost his grip on his gun and collapsed.
The two she’d taken out first were recovering. Drake slammed one with an elbow to the face and a knee to the solar plexus. Alicia grabbed her opponent by the ears, hauled him up to screaming protest, and then headbutted him into oblivion before letting him slither to the ground.
Zuki turned to Mai and levelled the loaded rocket launcher at her.
Mai stopped but didn’t move aside. “If that’s what you want, do it.”
Zuki stood laughing, her long hair hanging down to the small of her back, looking entirely different from the last time Mai had seen her. Then, she’d still been in prison; dirty, alone and powerless. Now, she looked every inch the royal princess, curved katana lashed across her back, clad in her fighting kimono with a black-belt sash and with the regal sneer across her face.
“Lick my boots,” she said, her voice full of scorn. “And I’ll make it quick.”
Mai took a step forward. “Left, or right?”
“Don’t move.” Zuki ran her finger over the firing button.
“Make a decision,” Mai said as Drake and Alicia came to stand either side of her. “Fire, or don’t. No wonder you failed, Your Majesty.”
Zuki resisted the bait. “Not failed,” she hissed. “Not close to failing. America is dying as we speak.”
“But it has its protectors right here,” Drake said. “Those who will save it today and every day after.”
Zuki didn’t afford him even a glance. “I’ll consider a painless death if you grovel,” she said. “Grovel for me now.”
Mai shook her head in disbelief.
Drake couldn’t put himself in Zuki’s brain, where utter privilege formed some iron-clad belief that you were superior to your fellow human being. Where you could never lose
, never sink to a lesser level. It was heinous. It was hideous. It was the attitude of many of the worst members of society. Zuki wasn’t alone in her beliefs.
Mai struck hard and fast, lunging at Zuki.
Drake and Alicia ducked just in case the RPG went off.
A stunning sheet of water swept the rooftop, soaking them all, and thunder crashed from behind lowering clouds.
Mai scooped up a discarded katana as she ran and lashed it toward Zuki.
The princess sidestepped, deflecting the blade with the side of the rocket launcher. In a quick movement, she dropped the loaded weapon and reached over her shoulder to draw her own sword.
Mai padded toward her, blade ready.
Zuki attacked, and the pair came together, swords clashing. Thunder rocked the scudding black skies above them. A streak of lightning pierced the clouds, searing its way down toward the rolling ocean.
Behind the two fighters, as they clashed on the edge of the roof, the backdrop blazed with forks of blinding white light.
Mai swung her weapon and jabbed forward.
Zuki defended the blows and kicked out, catching Mai in the chest. The princess moved devastatingly fast, trading blows and retaliatory thrusts as fast as Drake could blink.
The two combatants moved back and forth across the edge of the roof as the heavens opened and the rain came down.
Drake took out his gun, but couldn’t shoot Zuki. Couldn’t even injure her. They needed her alive and the risk of her falling was high.
He crossed to the edge away from them and looked over. For some reason Dahl was lying flat out on his back, soaked, coughing and spluttering. Drake guessed it had something to do with the crashed helicopter and wondered what the idiot had done.
Mai forced Zuki back along the ledge, a drop of at least eighty feet to her side. She swept her katana from right to left, saw Zuki catch the swing inches from her face, and then defend as the other woman hit back.
Mai dropped and kicked out, trying to sweep Zuki’s legs out from under her.
The princess only jumped over her attack, expecting it.
As she did so, Mai spun and kicked, saw her left boot flash millimeters past Zuki’s face. But she kept the momentum going, spinning and kicking with the other foot and then the left again and finally dropping into a crouch from where she thrust her blade up at Zuki’s stomach.
The princess batted it away with an open hand.
Mai was astounded. She’d known Zuki was well trained, but that kind of split-second reaction required ninja training. Hiding her shock, she defended as her opponent pressed hard. Mai skipped backward across the edge of the roof.
Another peal of heavy thunder rolled across the skies, exploding from clouds that seemed to be uncoiling down toward the roof. The rain soaked, sprayed and splashed off their blades, catching the light. More lightning flashed across the horizon, a white-hot backdrop. Mai scattered water from her boots and shoulders as she sprang forward.
Zuki ducked and struck back, sweeping her blade in a low arc.
Mai somersaulted over it, landing on both feet and slashing at Zuki’s legs.
The royal princess spun and stepped back, one foot out over the vertical drop, but perfectly balanced.
Less than a second later she stepped back to safety, poised.
Drake couldn’t separate them in skill levels. He’d never imagined there’d be a match for Mai Kitano somewhere out in the world, but Zuki was undeniably it. Drake couldn’t predict the outcome of this fight.
Which left the inimitable Alicia Myles. A one-off edition if ever there was one.
When Drake saw a flash of movement from the corner of his eyes, he glanced over at her.
The Englishwoman had dropped to her knees, grabbed one of the robed samurai warriors, and wrenched open his trousers so quickly the buttons went flying.
Drake’s mouth fell open as Alicia rummaged down the front of the man’s pants. “Steady on, love. I mean now, really?”
“Shut it,” Alicia growled. “I remember the Sprite once telling me that samurais keep more than a custard launcher in their pants.”
Drake winced and shook his head.
Mai circled Zuki, both women panting heavily. A savage gust of wind tore at them, threatening to pluck them off the roof but neither woman lost an ounce of focus.
Dahl was sitting up below, spluttering.
As Drake inched toward Zuki, at least trying to put her off, Alicia jumped up and flung something small at the princess. The shuriken flew fast and true, striking Zuki soundly on the sword arm. It stuck deep in her flesh, only the last few millimeters of razor-sharp tines protruding. The shock if not the pain made Zuki drop her katana.
Drake blinked at Alicia. “Mai told you that? She never told me.”
“We’ve discussed warriors’, um, attributes, many times over a tequila or ten.” Alicia shrugged. “It’s what alpha women do.”
Drake wasn’t so sure but chose to stay quiet.
Mai had already leapt at Zuki, delivered a pinpoint kick where the shuriken bristled from Zuki’s flesh, sending the princess crashing to her knees and crying out in pain.
Now, the ex-ninja kicked her opponent’s katana away and threw her onto the roof before kneeling over her and securing her hands behind her back with zip ties.
Drake evaluated the scene below from the edge of the roof.
Dahl and the others were standing together now, talking. The surviving Delta soldiers who’d flown in to help them were restraining prisoners around the two surviving choppers. The royal family they’d saved were remonstrating with Jake—their head of security. Drake could only imagine what they might be trying to blame him for.
As he stood there, the rains eased off and the clouds cleared. A ray of sunshine speared down from above, highlighting the roof.
“I think we won,” Drake said for the first time since the first curtain was lifted upon this dreadful theatre of war.
CHAPTER FORTY TWO
Twenty minutes later, Drake was standing in the shadow of the sauna building, separated from the rest of the contingent and the ungrateful shadow-royal family, checking to make sure his team had survived unscathed.
“All good,” Dahl told him. “Although the helicopter crash and rocket attack didn’t help much.”
“Another helicopter?” Drake studied him with pity. “You just can’t help yourself, can you? No, don’t tell me. You caught the RPG in your teeth and bit it in half?”
“Close enough.” Dahl nodded. “It wasn’t easy.”
“Neither is flying fifteen feet into the air inside a water bubble,” Kenzie said wryly. “But you managed that quite well.”
Drake grinned. “Wish I’d seen it,” he said. “I wonder if our resident royals will supply CCTV.”
“Speaking of the royals,” Dahl said. “I wouldn’t even try communicating with them. They remind me of people with their heads buried deep in the sand, thinking they’re surrounded by a super-protective shield, believing that if they don’t see the danger or normal people, then they won’t have to deal with any consequences. They do not live in our world.”
“But still,” Mai said. “They should know their lives have been saved. That the Romanovs want them all dead, and that they should pay for their disgusting actions.”
Drake nodded but then a movement close to his feet caught his attention. To compound Zuki’s haughty astonishment and horror at being bested, they’d given her a dose of her own medicine by trussing her up and placing her at their feet. They surrounded her, the royal brat squirming and grunting behind a gag of her own bloodied clothing.
“We need her,” Dahl said, “to tell us where the Scourge are. To end this once and for all.”
Zuki rolled over onto her back and looked up at him.
Alicia grinned down at her. “How ya feeling now, Princess?”
Dahl bit his lip. “She’s a survivor,” he said. “Look at her. She knows and she’s gonna reveal it to us for a deal.”
Zuki gave a brief and painful nod.
Drake felt a surge of hope, of adrenalin. A way to end this nationwide nightmare. They’d saved the Gundowan royals and sent protective teams to as many other royal families as they could. The Scourge were still winning though, mostly because of one man.
One man whose time might already be up.
Drake’s phone rang. One glance at the screen showed the name: Connor Bryant. A shiver of trepidation ran through him.
“Bryant?” he answered. “What’s going on? Did Hayden and Kinimaka grab President Lacey? Did they stop this?”
“Drake.” The normally upbeat man sounded terrible, his voice cracking. “Drake,” he said again. “It’s bad. It’s really bad.”
CHAPTER FORTY THREE
Hayden Jaye walked alongside Mano Kinimaka and Patrick Sutherland, straight into the White House after crossing the North Lawn from Pennsylvania Avenue. Sutherland told them they were entering through the North Portico in an effort to keep them updated and calm.
Hayden understood. Here they were, walking into one of the most protected buildings in the world, attempting to interrogate its most protected individual. Odds of success were low, but they had to try.
The Scourge and their high-ranking puppet couldn’t be allowed to continue destroying innocent lives.
Hayden thought about the last few days as a ghastly whirlwind. They’d been caught up in its vortex, out of control, thrown one way and then another without being able to penetrate the heart of the storm. Well, she thought, here we are. It doesn’t get more centralized than this.
She slowed, preparing for what was to come. To the south, a pair of Doric columns led to the Cross Hall. To her left, the east wall housed the grand staircase.
Their target lay to the right.
Footsteps clicking across the marble floor, they walked under chandeliers casting a flood of brightness like spotlights tracking their progress. They entered the west terrace and kept moving past its small oval windows.
Men and women were everywhere, talking in groups or rushing past on urgent errands. All wore suits to a varying degree of smartness, Hayden noticed. The faster someone ran past, the more ragged their tie and top buttons appeared.
Theatre of War (Matt Drake 28) Tenth Anniversary Novel Page 21
