Matt Drake 07 - Blood Vengeance (20 page)

Drake cast his eyes across the dusty white hexagonal salt crusts, dotted here and there with brush, and in the distance some gentle curves of desert sand leading to craggy, contoured and severe looking mountains. They could call in the cavalry at a
ny time, but it would be all for nothing if Kovalenko wasn’t around.

“What’s that?”

Drake followed the line of Karin’s finger along the blacktop, now spotting an irregular line of green trees at the top of a small rise and, beyond them, what looked like white walls and red roofs. “What
is
that?”

Lewis, the pilot, broke out a map of the area. “Yeah, it’s Garner’s Castle. I thought as much. Built in 1922 as a holiday home for the rich, now it stands as a tourist attraction, though closed throughout the winter season. Sometimes called the mansion, fortress or castle of the valley, it actually
does
resemble a castle, though I have no idea as to its functionality.”

Alicia shoved him. “You go to college?”

“Leave him alone.” Dahl pushed her out of the way. “It’s a good hike. If we want to make it in time we should get going.”

Drake surveyed the rest of their surroundings whilst Komodo and Kinimaka did the same. The arid plains were almost featureless and in keeping with the name of the region. Nearby
Badwater Basin had the lowest elevation of any point in the northern USA; it was below sea level, whereas only eighty four miles to the northwest, Mount Whitney, the highest point, raised its jagged head. Other place names like Dante’s View, Hell’s Gate, Furnace Creek and the Devil’s Golf Course confirmed the adverse nature of the area.

“Let’s go. And don’t forget, we need to look as though we’ve been ambushed.”

Dahl sniffed at that. “I think we were.”

With constant glances back to the newly grounded choppers and along the blacktop road, the team ran hard for Garner’s Castle, the last outpost in their terrible battle with the Blood King.

CHAPTER FORTY THREE

Drake slowed only when they had passed the scrappy line of thin trees and were approaching the sprawling mansion, house or castle; or whatever the hell it was supposed to be. He could see now why it had been given the idiosyncratic title of
castle.
The entrance was a faux portcullis, the gate itself simply made of redwood. Small towers stood to both sides with the bulk of the structure stretching back from each tower with an inner courtyard in the middle. Red-tiled roofs covered the clutter of buildings, of which there were at least a dozen, each one seemingly attached as an afterthought to the last. The walls surrounding the whole place were built of solid stone and crenellated in the manner of a castle. Happily, they were also high enough to defend. Every door opening was a high archway, and every window was protected by a wooden shutter. Drake could see, rising from the back of the compound, what looked to be a tall castle keep, flag pole fluttering on top. Several black weather vanes topped the other roofs.

“So let’s get t’
fettlin’ and feightin’,” Drake said in his best Yorkshire accent. “It’s too bloody mafting to hang around out ‘ere anyway.”

Dahl and Smyth shook their heads together. “Would you like to translate that to English?”

“I can see I’m gonna have to start giving out lessons,” Drake said as they walked towards the entrance. “Skoil
is school. Ginnel is an alleyway. Thine is yours. Make sense?”

Dahl couldn’t hide a grin. “Do you ever?”

“So let’s stop
callin’.”
Drake smirked back. “And make ready. ‘Cause the enemy’s right behind us.”

Smyth facilitated their entry.
The interior of the castle, past the sturdy gate, was indeed a long courtyard, sided by two rows of guest rooms. The front part of the courtyard also held the main reception and restaurant, the rear the manager’s offices and storage units along with the castle keep. Drake motioned quickly.

“Spread out. We need
intel on this place and fast. Places to hole up, places to defend. Where to get onto the roof. We need an escape route. A plan B. Nope, wait, I’ll sort that out. Can they flank us? How long can we hold out?”

“Drake,” Alicia said. “We know what to do. Now stop worrying about the sprite and get on with it. Besides—” her face took on a stony look. “We’re all here for Kovalenko. Once he shows his face we’re gonna rain
down our piece of biblical hellfire. We have an army of our own on standby.”

Drake winked. “Amen to that.”

The team split up. Drake headed straight for the walls, taking the rugged stone steps two at a time and coming up onto a wide ledge. The rough crenellated wall stretched away from him to either side, and he stepped up to one of the gaps, looking over. Below him lay a scrappy concreted courtyard, and then the rising shale mounds which surrounded this place. The enemy would have to climb those mounds and then descend since the castle stood in a shallow dip. Bad luck for them.

Footsteps pounded behind him as Komodo, Karin and Kinimaka caught up. The Hawaiian caught Drake’s eye.

“Smyth’s in place.”

“Good. Let’s hope he stays there long enough to be useful.”

“I still think we’d be better off using him in the defense,” Komodo said. “But I guess the majority rules.”

“I didn’t hear you argue when Alicia proposed the plan.”

“Shit.” Komodo pulled a face. “That look she’s got goin’ on. It’s pure fury, man. I wouldn’t wanna argue with that.”

“Well,” Drake said. “Here come a few assholes who’re hopefully gonna die trying.”

The sound of shale being displaced heralded the appearance of most of the soldiers who’d occupied the helicopters. Over the top of the mounds they came; slipping, sliding, struggling to get their guns up and desperately trying to scramble to level ground. Komodo raised his HK.

“Let’s bag us some
ducks.”

Drake made sure he was covered by the crenellated wall, then peeked out and opened fire. One quick burst and he dipped his head back inside and looked
backwards across the jumbled castle roofs to where Dahl and Alicia lay on opposite sides, bodies flat. The disorganized dips of the various roofs easily concealed their figures. Drake fired again, matching Komodo and Kinimaka round for round. Their enemies tumbled down the mounds, unmoving, to be half-buried in shale slides and mostly hidden by the rising heat haze. Some of the mercs paused, knelt, and fired back. Bullets pockmarked the castle walls, taking chunks out of the old stone. Drake stole a glance. Some of the attackers had descended the mounds and were now running across the short courtyard. Drake angled his rifle, shooting among them, then ducked back as they tried to pick him off. Kinimaka was further down the wall and with a better angle. His short burst finished off the runners, but return fire came dangerously close to his bobbing skull.

More men crested the mounds.

Machine-gun fire stitched its way across the castle walls from one end to the other. Where bullets passed between the crenellations they flew on to impact against other buildings or the higher castle keep, or even further to the higher hills that bordered this place. Drake crouched behind the walls and peered across the line. Karin was closest to him, sitting with her back against the wall and staring over the castle roofs. The tech-girl was keeping in constant touch with the nearby base through walkie-talkie. Komodo was next over, never far from her side. Then Kinimaka, still in the dark as to Hayden’s fate, dual expressions of rage and hurricane-like ferocity carved into his face.

“Here they come!” the Hawaiian shouted. “Keep ‘em out!”

Drake sprayed the top of the mounds, then the courtyard below. Men screamed and fell. Others flinched, threw themselves prostrate, or dived for the walls. A bullet fizzed over his head, almost close enough for him to write down its flight path. He picked off a soldier who had been trying to get a bead on Komodo, then threw himself to the floor as one of the big black choppers suddenly thundered out of nowhere.

“Shit!”

The helicopter blasted up over the mounds and low over the castle walls, so low Drake could have reached up and touched the bottom of one of its skids. The noise assaulted his eardrums, but that wasn’t the worst of it.

It was the half-dozen men leaning out of both sides, taking aim with high-powered weapons.

Drake scrambled along the wide ledge as a fusillade of lead smashed into the walls above his head. Some of the bullets shot through the crenels, hopefully maiming their own men in the courtyard below. Drake cursed as he dashed along. The distraction would give the attackers chance to cross the courtyard and gain the main gate.

Drake crawled fast, knowing the gate was strong but not wanting to leave anything to chance. Behind him, Komodo returned fire at the swaying chopper, sending two men bouncing brutally to the courtyard below. Kinimaka stayed on his mark, completely ignoring the threatening black bird. Drake reached the concrete steps, sensing Karin at his heels. He glanced back.

“What do the army say?”

“The
re’s still no sign of Kovalenko. They’re holding off but they aren’t going to stay there for much longer!”

“Tell the bastards to hold their fuckin’ horses. We’re the on
es with our bollocks on the chopping block. Not them!”

Karin winc
ed as someone spoke in her ear. “Line goes straight through to the White House, Drake. President Coburn says he’ll give us a few more minutes.”

Despite the situation, Drake made a face. Diplomacy had never been his strong suit. He shrugged.

Fuck it.

Swinging his legs over the top of the steps, he instinctively ducked as another stream of bullets gushed from the chopper’s open doors. He fell backwards over Karin, his body covering hers. One of the bullets actually glanced off his vest and skimmed on over the wall.

“We’re gonna get shot to bits up here.”

Then he raised his head, astonished. If he had been religious he might have started praying. As it was, he did stop breathing.

Karin looked stunned. “Oh my God.”

Creeping across the roofs on their bellies, Dahl and Alicia came below the swaying chopper. In one fluid lunge they jumped up and grasped hold of a skid on separate
sides, then boosted themselves until they were sat astride them. Alicia aimed her weapon upward and smiled. Drake couldn’t tell what she said, but imagined it wouldn’t be entirely pretty. Dahl just fired.

Bullets hammered up through the chopper’s floor, decimating the strapped-in men and blowing holes through the roof. The prop shaft and rotor took direct hits. When the chopper jerked sharply, Dahl and Alicia jumped off, hitting the castle’s red roof tiles and rolling clear. With a fractured roar the big machine tilted at an angle, leaning over like a foundering ship in rolling seas, then fell with a shriek into the courtyard below. Metal ground and screeched on impact. Glass shattered. The rotor blades tore off and whickered away at high speed like king-size knives thrown by a titan. The building beside the explosion crumbled under force of the collision; walls crumpling, roof tiles slipping and sliding down in three separate red streams. A fireball boomed skyward, black smoke billowing and obscuring the crash site, but the intensity of the flames assured Drake no one had survived.

He cheered. Alicia saluted. Dahl dropped to a prone position and fired at something directly below Drake, most likely the castle gates. He spun toward Kinimaka.

“How we doing?”

“Five at the gates. Now four, thanks to Dahl. Two in the courtyard. Four on the hill . . .” He fired expectantly as he finished speaking, then looked a bit sheepish. “Shit,” he said. “Still four.”

The next noise was almost as loud and menacing as the approaching chopper had been. Drake knew the sound, but couldn’t believe it. “Is that . . .?
No way.”

He spun to the nearest crenel, looking out. His mouth dropped open as a large truck topped one of the mounds, then came jouncing down the other side. An entire row of black-clad men sto
od atop the hills, staring across the gap, rifles held high.

A battle cry went up.

The men charged.

CHAPTER FORTY FOUR

Amidst the battle cries and the bedlam, Drake heard the revving engines of arriving cars. The Blood King’s main force was
already here. His heart thudded.
Just one sighting, just one!
That was all they needed to call in the cavalry.

A fitting analogy
, he thought.
Out here,
in these dry, desolate badlands—more than fitting.

The big truck
hit level ground and bounced and clattered its way across the courtyard, revving and swerving as if James Hunt was trying to shunt his way past on the inside. Komodo and Kinimaka came sliding up to Drake.

“Sure must seem like we’re trapped here,” the Hawaiian grunted.
“So where’s Kovalenko?”

“Kovalenko has a source in the government,” Drake pointed out. “If we needed any proof, the drone confirmed it. Now that source will either throw him to the dogs—that’s us,” he clarified unnecessarily. “Or warn him off.”

“He’s here,” Kinimaka growled. “I can smell evil a mile off.”

Drake regarded him. “Is that a Polynesian thing?”

“CIA training.”

Drake laughed. “Must be the advanced part of the course, eh?” Without pause he rose and sprayed the courtyard with bullets. The
huge truck barreled on through. A wave of men came behind it and a second wave behind them. A foul chorus of vile intent rose from their ranks. Drake fired, Kinimaka and Komodo standing alongside him, and several of the running men fell, but the rest charged on. The ground passed swiftly beneath their feet as they hurdled the fallen. Drake dropped more, shooting indiscriminately. The truck roared past his eyeline and smashed into the gate, making the castle walls shudder with the impact. Its front end blasted inside the castle, but its canvas-covered bed got stuck in the gap half way through and ground to a vibrating halt.

Drake pulled out a military-issue knife. “They all die.”

With that he jumped right off the castle walls, sailing into space and landing atop the canvas cover. He held his balance, feeling the cover belly out beneath him, then fell to his knees and slashed hard with the knife. Komodo and Kinimaka, coming five seconds after him, fell right through the gap into the bed of the truck below, and Drake followed a split second after them.

Hard
-looking men started in shock. Komodo was amongst them before they could react, slashing a throat; a cheek; a chest. Kinimaka had held on to his Glock and whipped it out now, three single shots signaling the deaths of three dull-witted men. Drake jabbed one man in the throat with his knife, then another across the forehead. The last was too far away to touch . . .

. . .
and already held a pistol leveled precisely between the Englishman’s eyes.

“
G’night fu—”

Drake threw his knife end over end. It embedded to the hilt in the man’s throat. The reflex shot went high, skimming up into the roof. Komodo was already jumping through the gaps in the side-canvas, hitting the ground before turning to finish the driver. Drake leapt through the other side, taking the passenger down into the dirt with a chokehold.

“Where’s Kovalenko?” he whispered into the man’s ear. “Did he send you to die alone?”

The man struggled but couldn’t break Drake’s hold. The Englishman tightened it a notch. “Tell me.”

“He’s out there. With his lieutenants. Don’t worry. He’s coming for you.”

Drake choked the man out and rose to his feet. The truck now effectively blocked the gap where the gate had been, but men were already tearing t
he remainder of the gate apart. They would be through in minutes. Plus Drake could now see them atop the walls, having gained access by jumping from the mounds that passed close to either side.

“Time to fall back,” he said, but then Dahl’s voice rang out.

“The walls!”
he cried.
“Go to the walls!”

If it had been anyone else, Drake would have paused and questioned it, but knowing Torsten Dahl as he did there was no choice. He pounded hard at the steps and found Karin standing at the top, isolated,
staring out over the walls as enemy commandoes came at her from both sides.

“He’s out there,” Karin said softly
, oblivious to her danger. “That bastard is right there, watching us.”

Drake smashed into
a commando running at him full pelt, slightly dipping his shoulder and letting his momentum send the guy flying off the walls. The second he met with a palm to the face, breaking his nose and letting his own tear ducts destroy his vision. He sensed Komodo at his back, meeting the attackers who charged in from the other side. The two men fought hard on the castle walls with Karin between them, hand-to-hand combat being more practical in the enclosed conditions. Komodo threw a man over the walls to the concrete below, blocked knife strikes, and used the enemies’ own force of numbers against them, employing them as shields and foils, toppling them like dominoes. The heights of the castle rang with clanging steel and dying screams. Drake did take a bullet, but it only drove into his vest and knocked him back less than a step. Without missing a stride, he broke the shooter’s wrist and twisted the weapon away from him, using its full magazine to thin the herd.

In a moment’s respite, he turned to Karin. “Show me.”

She held out a hand. Drake followed her pointing finger and there, atop the highest mound and flanked by Mordant and Gabriel, stood the Blood King. The Russian regarded the scene for a moment before starting forward.

“He’s coming in,” Karin yelled, and then remembered the walkie-talkie in her hand. “I have to—”

“No time.” Drake grabbed her and almost threw her down the steps. “Go!” Both he and Komodo followed her down to the courtyard, dodging bullets as they ran. The truck lay idling away down there, and beyond it the helicopter burned like a furious beacon. Dahl and Alicia stood close to the truck, watching the castle gates finally fall.

“Low on ammo,” Alicia said. “We gotta conserve.”

“Kovalenko will be inside within minutes.” Drake said. They ran as a group, heading past the chopper’s blazing wreckage. The heat was a furnace blast in Drake’s face as he skirted it, raising the temperature of Death Valley to an even more deadly notch. They used the arched doorways as cover when Kovalenko’s men broke through, hiding and firing in pairs, leap-frogging each other to reach a safer place.

And, finally, Drake gave Karin the nod. “Make the call.”

Karin’s eyes blazed with pure hatred as she ducked a hail of gunfire, rose amidst the smoke of pulverized stone and charred metal, and spoke into the receiver.

“Bring the fire!”
she cried, looking up to the burning skies.
“Bring the fires of hell down on this motherfucker!”