Rise of a Phoenix: Rise of a Phoenix (31 page)

From inside the house the blond man came to the window and observed the madness. “Finish this before they end up killing each other,” he said.

A large bulk of a man stepped forwards and removed the automatic grenade launcher from where it rested on his back. Taking the two grips firmly in his hands he placed three rounds into the tent. As the projectiles hit they exploded with tremendous force. There were several bright flashes, then the marquee was ripped apart, sending pieces of timber and fabric whirling in all directions.

Where the tent had been there was nothing to see but massive bulges of red and black flame. Burning pieces of debris fell from the sky in a shower of burning rain.

The man replaced his weapon, grinning as he did so. “Boom,” he said, his tone deep and hollow. Joining the others they preceded through the house checking for survivors, looking especially for the four people who had run into the house earlier.

“The mother, her two children and other women are not to be harmed in any way,” said the blond mercenary. Then he stopped, forcing the men behind him to come to a sudden halt, as he turned to look directly at one man. He was of average height, clean shaven, and had an eager look upon his face. “Are we understood?” His stare became intense, almost burning through the man, who backed off slightly and nodded.

John Steel saw that the gardens were clear and had observed several mercenaries going into the house. He didn’t know the strength of their numbers but he did know there must be survivors because everyone had gone into the house. Moving across the body-filled lawn he kept low but moved quickly.

Reaching the wall and the steps he chanced a quick look, finding there was nobody to be seen. Moving slowly up the stone steps he came across the body of a man, and was scared to see who it was. Looking closer, he found it to be that of his father. His head dropped down, and all he wanted to do was scream out, but he knew that would alert the guards and preclude any hope of rescuing the others. There would be time for mourning later.

He kissed his fingers and pressed them down on to the head of the man, then he looked up to the house and anger burnt within him.

Through the back door led into a large dining room. Beyond that lay the large hallway and stairs leading to the bedrooms. The soldier crept slowly towards the double doors of the dining room and slowly opened the door enough to take a look. In front stood a guard, and across from him at the foot of the staircase stood another.

Steel took note of the hallway with its large marble floor and the dark wood main doors directly in front. A set of stairs that traversed the left wall was decorated with paintings of men and women, landscapes and animals; apart from the two guards he could see no one. He closed the door and sat down. He had to think and think fast. The radio that sat on his shoulder pouch squeaked and he quickly went to turn it off, and thought of a plan.

Getting up, he raced to the large speaker by the door to the garden, and taking the headset he placed it down by the large black box, then, taking some tape he had found in the DJ’s tool kit he taped up the ‘send’ button on the handset, and then carefully taped the headset’s microphone to the speaker.

He stood up and looked around; his face fell when he saw the microphone lying next to his father. Taking a deep sorrowful breath he walked over and picked it up. “Okay, you bastards want a party?” he thought to himself.

The mercenaries walked through the large house going from room to room. The blond man had decided to wait in the large office he had found, where the oak walls and floor were complemented with heavy looking antique furniture—this room appealed to him. He had given instructions for them to proceed and bring back any survivors unharmed, but he was worried about Travis. After all, these men were not soldiers, they were hired convicts and therefore expendable! That was if anything should go wrong. Unfortunately Travis was a murderer and rapist of the worst kind: he was an animal, simple and basic.

The blond man had given his junior an instruction for him to keep an eye on Travis, and well, if he did anything wrong, he would know what to do. The leader of the mercenaries walked round the room in awe of its splendor. He found a large wooden globe in a corner and opened it, and his eyes lit up at the sight of the fine brandies and whiskies, and he helped himself to a glass of the twenty-year-old malt. He walked casually to a massive wooden bookshelf. Dickens, Sun Tzu, Tolstoy, all the classics were there. The smell of old leather filled his nostrils as he leant forwards and breathed in the cultured atmosphere. Picking a book he sat down on the red leather chesterfield and set to reading, sipping the whiskey as he smiled and imagined.

Steel knelt by the door with his back to the wall, reaching up he pulled a combat knife from a scabbard on the shoulder of the vest he had taken. The long blade glistened as the rays of the afternoon sun caught its sharpened edge. As he knelt with the Glock .45 in one hand and the microphone in the other, he took a moment to think about the events as they would happen: turn the microphone on, throw microphone to the speaker causing feedback, burst through the door, headshot to both men, get ready for men to come down stairwell, take them out, get out of room and head up stairs in all the confusion. It was a sound plan, in his head anyway.

He mentally counted to three then, using maximum force, he threw the microphone towards the speaker he had placed by the open bay doors. Everything turned to slow motion as the missile sailed through the air and landed with a clang that shot through the loud speakers, and, in turn, through the earpieces of the mercenaries. The men grabbed their ears in pain as the feedback came full force, incapacitating them for a few moments.

Steel swung open the doors and fired. Both guards took a round each, one to the back of the head and the other dead centre between the eyes. Steel watched as five men rushed down the stairs to find out what was wrong with the speakers. Steel cut them down with the pistol, and he watched in satisfaction as each of the men slammed against the walls of the stairwell as the impact of each round punched through them, leaving bloody smears.

Time to move
, he thought, only stopping to pick up the dead guard’s pistol, then rushing up the stairs with both weapons pointing in outstretched arms, he reached the upper hallway and knelt down behind a wall at the top of the stairs, waited for a second, then shot over to the first room.

The blond mercenary bolted out of his seat and ripped the earpiece from its place. Racing out of the door he made for the stairwell, picking up his men as he went. He had found five men recovering from the sudden blast to the eardrums, but they were okay, well, fit enough to kill someone anyway.

As he peered through the crack of the partially open door, Steel made out six men rushing downstairs. He knew could take them out, but he did not know how many more there were or where they were: no, he had to leave them and press on. Going down the long corridor, he checked room after room until he reached the end; there was nothing. He smiled to himself: if he found nothing then neither had they. Steel looked up towards the attic; he had to get to the attic.

The blond mercenary and the others rushed into the dining room and found the microphone next to the speaker.

He switched it off and threw it onto the lawn. Looking round he noticed the headset and speaker unit taped to the speaker, and ripping it off, he stood up.

“The boy is here,” he instructed. “Find him. And I want him alive.”

The others nodded. The head mercenary looked at the small microphone from the headset and smiled, he glanced up at the house and cast a view from left to right, trying to ascertain where his quarry might be. “Welcome home, John Steel,” he muttered.

but never thought that as an adult he would be doing the same thing. The bulk of his body plus the extras made the journey fairly uncomfortable. Reaching the top, he used the knife to bore a small hole in which to see the attic. The attic was long and dark with only the light from the small windows in the roof above. It was large and spacious. Dusty boxes of long-forgotten things stood on top of one another, and as he looked he thought that only true fear would bring someone here; there was nowhere to hide, he thought.

He saw that it was clear, and, lifting the sliding door carefully, he stepped out. Dropping to one knee he drew one of the pistols, realizing that he would have to make it to the other side to satisfy himself that there was nobody here. Walking slowly and carefully he inched his way down towards the end, if nobody was here then they must have used the dumb waiter to go down to the kitchen or basement and then out from there. Moving slowly, his eye caught a shape in the distance. It was only a few feet away but the dark made it seem like miles,

Keeping down, he waited for his eyes to adjust, then he closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. Slowly he opened them and saw that it was a women lying there. Her face was not visible but he knew who it was and he felt that he could not move.

The blond mercenary went back inside the house and found that the others had regrouped in the large hallway; he walked up to the large man and nodded.

“What happened boss?” asked the other man.

“We have a homecoming after all it seems. I thought he wasn’t due back for another week, but never mind, what is done is done. Right, first things first.” The tall blond man looked at the group. “Where the hell is Travis?” he asked.  Everyone looked round and shrugged.

“God damn it. Okay, find that psycho before he gets us all killed. Now move!” The men split off, and he grabbed the large man’s arm and shook his head at him. “No, my friend, you’re staying with me.” The big guy smiled and reached down to take the strangely configured combat shotgun from one of his dead colleagues. As he pulled it up the dead man’s hands still clutched the weapon, refusing to let go, and this made the blond mercenary laugh as he watched his friend struggle with a dead man. “He was always fond of that, never left his side, even more so now it seems.”  The big man looked up and shrugged.

“Leave the weapon, my friend, it seems the dead have claimed it, and it’s not wise to annoy the dead.” The large mercenary let the weapon and the body drop, more because of fear of disobeying his superior than anything. The big man was part gypsy and grew up on his grandma’s tales of the old country and the legends and myths and curses. The blond mercenary had befriended him in the service. They had both joined the Foreign Legion many years ago but had later found a better employment.

The basement was cool and dark. A mother and her two children scurried across the floor to the wooden coal-cellar door. As Helen Steel reached up she realized she didn’t have the key. She looked round at the small nail embedded into the wall next to the double doors, but it held no key, and she cursed the gardener, as she knew he had often forgotten to put it back. A noise behind them caused the trio to find a hiding space, which wasn’t difficult, as the cellar was long with many rooms branching off it. They listened intently as someone was moving from room to room in search of their prey. The little girl hugged her mother. As Helen looked over to Thomas she could see both fear and anger burning in his expression. She grasped his hand and squeezed it for comfort, and looking up at her his mood lightened a little. Helen looked down and felt a glimmer of comfort in her daughter’s eyes.

A sickening voice echoed down the hallway, saying: “Come out, I won’t hurt you.” A snigger came next, and she trembled.

Helen noticed some old barrels leaning up against the far wall. Grabbing Sophie and Thomas she hurried quietly towards them and, lifting one of the lids off, she placed the terrified children inside.

Sophie clung to her mother, knowing she was protecting them with her own life. “Now,” their mother told them. “You stay in here and don’t move, okay, no matter what you see or hear. You don’t move until the police arrive.” She stared into the glassy eyes of her child, knowing this would be the last time she could do so, then she kissed Sophie on her forehead and Helen took off and passed a necklace to the child. It was a golden locket with a picture of them all. The long golden chain swayed as her hands shook with emotion.

Sophie grasped the necklace and held it tightly to her, and she stared upwards, fearfully.

“Thomas,” she told her son. “I need you to look after your sister, okay?”

His watery eyes stared back at her.

“But—” She kissed his forehead to stop him saying anything else.

“You have to be brave. No matter what, you stick together, promise me.”

The two children reluctantly nodded.

“I love you, both of you and I always will, remember that,” she said and, tears rolling down her face, Helen replaced the lid.

As the two children listened with eyes firmly shut, they could make out the heavy breathing of a large man: he panted and snorted like a rhino, and they huddled together in the barrel and tried to make themselves as small as possible. The snorting brute came nearer and nearer, his feet shuffled on the floor. Thomas in his imagination conjured images of the Minotaur from the Greek myths. Then a noise of someone running alerted the beast and the children heard it follow.

Sophie shook with fear, her body soaked with perspiration; Thomas held her close, comforting himself as well as reassuring his sister.

Helen Steel managed to get to the dumb waiter and quickly stowed herself into it. She had to go up to the attic and get Elisabeth. The four had parted their ways so Helen could force the large bald man to follow her, giving Elisabeth time to hide or get away, and in turn Helen and the children would get out through the coal cellar doors.

Moving towards the sound of the footsteps the brute found himself at the dumb waiter. He banged a powerful fist on the wall as he saw the elevator moving upwards, then a calculated evil grin came onto his face and he made for the stairs.

Steel moved slowly towards the woman, his legs felt heavy, almost impossible to move. Suddenly he crashed to his knees, kicking up a cloud of dust that hung in the pools of light. His face twisted with the pain of seeing his sweet wife lying there motionless. Steel reached out a hand to grab her, his powerful fingers clawing at the distance between them.