The Silver Strand Legacy, page 27
part #1 of Eritis Trilogy Series
“Why aren’t those two idiots on com?” Carson complained as he barged into the kitchen.
Da Costa miraculously managed to step away and avoid getting hit in the face as the flapping doors slammed open.
Carson had approached from his blind spot, so he had only seen him at the last moment.
Now the two men were standing three feet apart, staring incredulously at each other.
Their hesitation only lasted a brief moment.
When experienced soldiers come face-to-face with an enemy on the battlefield, their brains switch to automatic. They don't think, they react. And in this case, both men had the same instinct: shoot first, ask questions later.
Da Costa had the advantage because his weapon was already drawn, but the short distance between them greatly reduced this advantage. Against someone like Randall Carson, this was more than enough to balance the scales.
Carson intercepted the mercenary’s hand as he tried to raise his firearm. Da Costa also grabbed Carson’s wrist to stop him reaching for the gun tucked in the back of his jeans.
Both men became interlocked in a sort of tug-of-war over control of Da Costa’s semiautomatic.
Carson wasn’t a particularly tall man, but he was wide, and he was all muscles. So it came as little surprise to Da Costa to see the barrel of his own gun slowly inching towards his stomach. A few more seconds and he would be in the line of fire.
Doc, who had been observing the scene from the other end of the kitchen, noticed his comrade’s predicament. His first reflex was to shoot Carson. But Da Costa had his back turned to him and was shielding the target. Then, it occurred to Doc it didn’t matter. He couldn’t fire at Carson even if he had a clear shot. Any shots fired now would most certainly alert everyone to their presence and negate any hope they still had of escaping.
“Hey, guys! I’m coming up on the corner now,” Soran said over the com line.
Finally. Doc put away his firearm and rushed towards the interlocked pair.
Da Costa too had heard Soran’s voice on his earpiece and was aware of Doc’s movement towards them. He clung on even tighter in an attempt to immobilize Carson until his comrade arrived.
But Carson had other plans. He could see Doc running towards them, and he had felt a renewed vigor in his adversary.
He had to do something.
He abruptly relaxed his muscles and stopped pushing back, causing Da Costa to momentarily lose his balance.
Using the split-second opportunity, Carson gave Da Costa a vicious head-butt, which sent the mercenary shuffling back a few steps.
With his hands finally freed, Carson quickly drew his firearm. But before he could fire at Da Costa, Doc threw a kitchen knife at him.
Having saw the flying blade from the corner of his eye, Carson raised his arms in a defensive reflex. Thanks to his quick reaction, he avoided a fatal injury and only ended up with a slash on his right triceps.
Seeing an opening, Da Costa put all his weight into a right uppercut to Carson’s jaw and sent him tumbling over the main counter.
At that moment, an ambulance screeched to a stop in the street just outside the kitchen.
The two mercenaries immediately ran towards the exit and dove into the back of the ambulance. Luckily, the vehicle provided partial cover from the hail of bullets fired by the gunmen in the adjacent building.
As soon as he saw that both men had dived in, Soran stomped on the gas.
The engine roared as the ambulance rocketed away.
By the time Carson’s head popped up from behind the counter, the mercenaries were gone.
“What took you so long?” Doc shouted at the driver.
“I was shopping!” Soran shouted back. “What do you think I was doing? The place is crawling with cops, not to mention Jenkins’ minions lurking about. I had to be careful. There’re not that many cars out here you know.”
“Yeah, I know,” said Doc more coolly. He had raised his voice more out of edginess than anger. He knew Soran was right. The young man had to be careful not to attract the wrong kind of attention. “Sorry,” he told him, “and thanks for coming to get us.”
“No problem,” said Soran. He turned and winked. “Besides, a hero’s got to make an entrance.”
“Really?” said Doc. “Well, right now I’m more interested in how you’re going to make your exit. I’m guessing the roads have been cordoned off because of all the shooting.”
“Yep, but I’m pretty sure it’ll be fine. There’s a reason I borrowed this ambulance. I’ll turn on the sirens and pretend to have a wounded man in the back.”
“Don’t worry, you won’t have to pretend,” said Da Costa in a weak voice.
Doc looked back at his comrade. Da Costa’s face was pale. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
Da Costa’s hands were pressed against his stomach and blood was seeping through his fingers.
“Dammit, you got hit?” Doc exclaimed, rushing towards him.
“It’s all right,” said Da Costa, grinding his teeth together to mask the pain. “I’ll make it.”
“Here, let me have a look,” said Doc as he gently lifted Da Costa’s bloodied hands. He examined the wound carefully, and then grabbed the med kit to treat his comrade.
The wound was serious. He patched it up as best he could and thanked their lucky stars for the fact they were in an ambulance.
“How does it look?” Soran asked when he saw Doc was done.
Doc stood up and stuck his head between the front seats. “Not good. We need to get him to a hospital.”
“Got it!” said Soran. “But I’m worried about something else too.”
Doc had never seen Soran look this serious. “What is it?” he asked.
“It’s Ash. I haven’t been able to reach him, or the big guy, since they headed down to the parking garage.”
Doc realized he hadn’t heard from those two in a while either. But there was no use trying to reach them now. The ambulance was already out of range of the hotel.
“I hope they made it out,” said Soran, his fingers squeezing the wheel harder.
Doc stared at him.
The young man’s expression was grave and severe. It was a complete change from his usual carefree demeanor.
In that moment, Doc had a strange feeling. It was like he was looking at a different person.
“Come on, Ash … get out of there,” Soran whispered to himself.
Chapter 30 – Run
“This was the last one,” said Ashrem as he stepped over the downed agent.
“Yeah,” Rock replied, looking at the other three black-suited men lying on the ground.
Like their colleagues above, the four sentries in the parking garage had been adamant in their refusal to let the two men leave. With the guards stubbornly immune from all arguments, Rock and Ashrem had once again had to resort to a less diplomatic solution.
Having dealt with the last obstacle, the two men hurried to the delivery van.
When they got close to the vehicle, Ashrem started making his way around to the driver side, but he was immediately reeled back by a large hand.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Rock said as he shoved the young man in the other direction. “I’ve seen you drive, buddy. I’ll take the wheel.”
Though he was a little disappointed, Ashrem didn’t argue. He circled the van and jumped into the passenger seat.
As soon as he slammed the door shut, the tires started spinning on the asphalt and the vehicle drove off in a haze of smoke.
The underground parking extended over a sizeable area. Not only did it afford access to the hotel, it accommodated a number of office buildings as well.
The van navigated through the pillars, barely slowing down as it negotiated the sharp corners, until it surfaced onto an empty street two blocks away from the hotel’s main entrance.
Rock was surprised to see there were no agents posted at the parking garage exit. “What happened to the guys we saw on the way in?”
“They were probably called away when the shooting started,” Ashrem concluded.
“Good. It’s about time we had a little luck come our way.”
“We’re not in the clear yet,” Ashrem warned.
“Relax, you sound like Nate. I’m telling you, it’s gonna be smooth sailing fro—”
Suddenly Rock lost control as a tire exploded and the vehicle began to sway.
He tried to steady it, but they were going too fast.
The van tumbled over and skidded onto the pavement until it crashed into a parking meter on the side of the deserted road.
The security officer checked every door and peered through every window of the brightly lit hallway as he performed one of his regular night rounds.
Shortly after he had disappeared around the far corner, a woman and a man crept along the hallway and stopped in front of an unmarked door. The woman retrieved a wallet-sized case from the black band around her waist and took out two lockpicks from it. She made quick work of the door lock, and the pair quietly slipped inside.
The man turned on his flashlight.
They were in a small room, with a wooden desk and a padded chair flanked by metallic drawers lined up against the walls.
“Is this the right place?” Kincade asked.
“I think so,” Arianne replied as she gave a sweeping gaze around.
She had on her tight black outfit—the same one she had been wearing when she’d first appeared before him at the manor.
When Kincade had first seen her in the unusual attire, he hadn’t really paid too much attention to it because of all the craziness going on at the time. He hadn’t noticed how closely it traced the lines of her curves, revealing her slender and feminine body.
For a moment, Kincade was enthralled by the captivating vision, his gaze lingering on her longer than he had intended.
Arianne caught him staring at her strangely. “Is something wrong?” she asked.
He tried to act cool. “No, I was just wondering about the diving suit. I was surprised when you took off your clothes after we broke into the building. I didn’t realize you were wearing that thing underneath.”
His remark caught her off guard. She examined herself from top to bottom. “Oh, you mean our outfits? These are the only clothes we were allowed to wear at the Arc. They wanted to make sure we couldn’t conceal anything. They were always worried we would find a way to escape despite all their precautions.”
“Well, you did escape, so I guess they were right to be worried. But why still wear it?”
“… I’m not sure,” Arianne replied, suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious. “We’ve been wearing these since we were children. I guess it just feels more natural than anything else. Do you think it looks odd?”
“Ahem! No, it’s fine,” said Kincade, clumsily trying not to sound awkward.
“Obviously, we’ll need to get used to regular clothes if we want to blend in. But I still feel more comfortable wearing it when I’m doing something like this.”
“You mean when you’re breaking into the office of a high-ranking British official?” Kincade joked.
“Exactly,” she smiled.
“So, where is this necklace?” he asked, focusing back on the task at hand.
Arianne pointed to a heavy metallic door, left of the desk. The door had no lock or handle and was instead fitted with an electronic pad surrounded by a glowing red light.
“According to Luce, it’s stored in there, along with the rest of our belongings.”
Kincade moved closer and hunched his back to examine the electronic lock. “This could be a problem.” He then straightened up and checked every inch of the door and its contours. “It doesn’t seem to be reinforced. We could probably blast our way in, but it’s bound to raise an alarm. There’s only a skeleton crew patrolling the building right now. If we move quickly, we might be able to retrieve the necklace before their back up arrives.”
His suggestion was met with complete silence.
He looked back at Arianne, wondering why she was so quiet. At first, it seemed like she was gazing at him. Then he realized she wasn’t really looking at anything. Her eyes were fixed in his direction, but she was staring blankly into space.
“Hey, Arianne! Still with me?”
“Hmm? Oh, sorry. Did you say something?”
“What’s wrong?”
“… Nothing,” she replied. “Ah, yes, the door … I’ll take care of it.” She pulled out a small device from another pocket of her waistband. It was some kind of electronic gadget linked to a magnetic card via a flat strip of wires.
“What am I looking at?” Kincade asked, eyeing the strange contraption.
“Something Soran and I made a few years ago.”
She inserted the card into the slit below the electronic pad and pressed a button on the device. A series of numbers began scrolling rapidly on the pad’s display.
A few seconds later, the red light turned green. The door was unlocked.
The two cautiously made their way into the room. It was larger than they had expected. There were two tall racks on either side of the door and five glass display cabinets evenly spaced along the length of the room. Behind each cabinet was a row of metallic shelves lining up all the way to the back wall.
“Don’t you think this was a bit too easy?” Kincade said, sounding skeptical.
“What? Oh, you mean entering here. No, I’m not surprised,” Arianne replied. “Leicester’s office is several floors above us. He’s kept our stuff all this time, but as far as he’s concerned, there’s nothing of value here.”
Kincade studied her a moment. Twice now, she had seemed distracted. He approached her and said, “Come on. Something’s clearly bugging you. What is it?”
She sighed. “I keep thinking I should have gone with the others.”
“We’ve been over this. You and Lucielle are the only ones who know what the necklace looks like. Are you suggesting she should have come here instead of you?”
“Of course not. But … what if Jenkins is there?”
Kincade frowned. “Help me understand something. You guys are freakishly strong, right? Then how come you’re all so afraid of Jenkins?”
“I don’t know … I’m not afraid. I just … I’ve always had a bad feeling about him.”
Rock heard a voice call to him as he was coming to. It sounded like Ashrem, but he wasn’t sure. Images flashed through his mind. He remembered a loud popping sound. He remembered trying to steady the van after it abruptly dipped to the side. He also remembered banging his head on something, something hard.
He heard the voice again. And he felt a hand on his shoulder, trying to pull him back to consciousness. He shook off the grogginess and willed himself back to partial awareness.
His head hurt like hell, and the wheel was pressing hard against his chest, making it painful to breathe. He turned his head and saw Ashrem crouching next to him. The young man appeared to have been left unscathed by the crash. He was leaning over the giant, checking for signs of injuries.
“I think we blew a tire,” said Ashrem.
“You’re OK?” Rock asked, in a tone conveying more surprise than concern.
“I’m fine.”
“Of course you’re fine,” Rock sighed, holding his head in his hands. Suddenly it struck him that Ashrem was upside-down. But when the giant looked around the vehicle, he realized it was in fact he who, like the van, was in an unnatural position.
“Can you get out?” Ashrem asked.
The giant grunted as he tried to wriggle his body out of its awkward position. But it was much harder for his bulky frame to maneuver within the enclosed space. The door on his side was stuck, and the wheel greatly impeded his efforts. “Argh! I can barely move!”
Ashrem put his hands on the wheel, his muscles stiffened, and in one abrupt motion, he ripped it off the dashboard. “How about now?”
“Much better,” Rock said, breathing easier. “Thanks.”
“Come on, we have to move.”
“Yeah, go on. I’m right behi—”
All of a sudden, the front passenger door flew away with a loud snap.
Startled, Ashrem turned around.
Then he too flew out through the opening, like a pilot ejecting from a fighter plane.
“What the hell!” Rock exclaimed. He called out to his companion, but there was no reply. He could, however, hear faint grunts and other muffled sounds.
After a jarring contortionist’s routine, the giant managed to slither out of his metallic trap. He crawled headfirst out of the passenger window and promptly rose to his feet.
He saw Ashrem engaged in a brutal struggle with a brawny opponent.
It was Jenkins.
The two men were grappling with each other in a contest of strength.
Rock assumed the outcome would be a foregone conclusion. He had witnessed first-hand Ashrem’s surreal physical abilities.
But after observing the two men for a while, the mercenary was forced to acknowledge the unimaginable, yet undeniable, conclusion: Ashrem was losing!
Rock was shocked. And he wasn’t the only one. Ashrem looked like he was struggling as much with his opponent as he was with trying to understand how he could be so clearly overpowered. The young man found himself sliding back from Jenkins’ irresistible pressure, until he literally ended up with his back against a wall.
Pure strength wasn’t going to do it. It was time to try a different approach.
Ashrem delivered a well-timed low kick to Jenkins’ inner leg. It was enough to destabilize the brutish soldier. The young man used the opening to land two quick hits in succession: a right upward elbow to the chin, followed by a left palm strike straight to the face.
As his opponent staggered backward, Ashrem attempted to put some distance between them. But Jenkins wouldn’t let him. He slammed Ashrem against the wall with such violence it forced the air out of the young man’s lungs. Jenkins then quickly followed with a mean straight punch.
Even though Ashrem had not fully recovered, he was somehow able to narrowly escape the hard fist rocketing towards his face.
