Sentinel Five (The Redaction Chronicles Book 2) (23 page)

Gorilla walked up the snow-covered path towards the pagoda, his hands thrust deep into the pockets of his black winter coat. His black boots crunched gently on the newly-fallen snow. There was no subterfuge in Gorilla's approach. He walked straight, true, alone and in plain view, the glare of the full moon's light reflecting off the snow-covered landscape and buildings. He was a lone soldier, defiant against the hostile glare of the pagoda behind the fortress walls and what its grandeur held inside.

In the distance, probably no more than fifty yards away, he saw the ten-foot-high wall forming the outer perimeter to the pagoda, and at its centre stood the immense wooden gates, painted a vibrant red colour. He stood before them, looking around for a rock he could use as a knocker. He breathed slowly, closed his eyes once and banged with the rock three times on the heavy wood.

THUMP!

THUMP!

THUMP!

At first there was silence and just as he was about to strike the gate again, he heard voices from inside and the withdrawing of a huge bolt from the other side of the gate. The doors retracted slowly, giving him his first proper view of the courtyard and Masakado Castle, the Raven's pagoda. It was stunning. Beyond the gates, he could see a wide wooden bridge which traversed a water-filled moat. He also saw the two armed guards on duty. They were alert, dangerous-looking Japanese men. Gorilla kept his head down and moved forward, not making eye contact with them until they were mere feet from the gate. He felt hidden eyes from within the pagoda and the guard house, watching his every move. The guards were dressed in dark, padded jackets and heavy, cold weather clothing. Each was armed with an M-16 Assault rifle. The taller of the two approached him. “You are Grant?” he said, in halting English.

“I'm Gorilla,” he replied. It was said as a statement, matter of fact.

The guard looked behind Gorilla, confused. “Where is your car? Where is the driver we sent for you?”

Gorilla shrugged. “It broke down, way back on the road. I told the driver to stay with the vehicle. I walked the last part of the journey. I didn't want to be late.”

The guard nodded. “We will send a man to retrieve it. We will have to search you. There are no weapons allowed inside the Castle.”

Gorilla nodded and as the two guards approached to frisk him, he raised his arms in the universal tradition of someone about to be thoroughly searched for weapons. One guard approached him from the front and one from the side. He heard a distant CRACK and a sudden gust of wind passed by him, once, twice before the two guards suddenly dropped to the floor with a bullet in each of their heads. The angel on his shoulder, hidden somewhere on the hills surrounding the pagoda, had taken her first heads of the night. He doubted they would be her last. Gorilla turned to look back in the direction he'd come. He raised an arm and waved once, twice, then a third time. At first, there was nothing and then, emerging from the darkness just on the other sides of the wall, two shadows appeared, both tall, well-built and carrying Remington 1100 shotguns. It was the deadly duo; Crane and Lang.

“Where's Hodges?” asked Gorilla, opening his jacket and drawing the '39.

Crane jerked a gloved thumb behind him, indicating the woods along the private road. “He's holed up back there. Watching and waiting. As soon as he sees that we're inside, he'll fix the explosives to the structure of the pagoda. After that we have thirty minutes to get in and out before it blows. Until then, he stays put.”

Gorilla understood, Hodges was the dems man. Inside his backpack, he had numerous timed explosive charges, designed to sabotage the pagoda and leave no traces of deniable bodies or bio-toxins alike. The destruction of the Raven's sanctuary was to be the final parting gift from Bill Hodges and the Sentinel team.

There was a commotion over to the left and from the corner of his eye, Gorilla saw the first of several black-clothed guards emerging from the adjacent keep, about thirty feet away. Crane and Lang immediately took off running and took up defensive positions on the near side of the bridge. They opened up with the Remington's, blasting out rounds, picking at targets, firing and moving, slowing down the progression of the guards. Gorilla saw at least three guards drop to the ground. He turned and made his way at speed across the bridge, through the courtyard and to the entrance of the pagoda. The large black lacquered doors were imposing and he knew that behind them lay the distinct possibility of his death. But then again, he reasoned, it was also a distinct possibility if he stayed out here facing a small army. He turned and fired twice at the two guards who were trying to cut off his entrance to the main doors. The two Japanese dropped like sacks of rocks, tumbling down the steps and onto the earthen pathway. Gorilla turned and hit the door hard with his shoulder, expecting to encounter resistance, but was surprised when it gave way freely. Inside was shrouded in darkness.

“Lads, over here! Let's go,” he called to the two Special Forces soldiers. He could see them pepper-potting forward, firing and moving, firing and moving. He helped them as much as he could, taking a bead on any visible targets and watching as his head shots took effect.

Finally, Crane and Lang made a dash for the entrance to the pagoda. Gorilla hurried them inside, still firing and taking down guards with the '39. All three of them slammed the great doors shut and slung the mighty bolts which ran through the middle and along the top of the doors. They were, mercifully, now sealed inside and safe, at least for the moment. The bottom level of the pagoda was sparsely decorated, no floor matting and nothing to suggest any sign of furnishings. Along one wall was a row of pegs, where someone might hang a cloak or a jacket. Light was provided by meagre candlelight, which did nothing to illuminate the large floor space. The three men took a moment to check their weapons, a quick re-load for some and then they took up their positions at the bottom of the wooden staircase. There was a quick flick of the eyes to each other and then a nod of acknowledgement as Gorilla and his team walked up the steps and through the darkened doorway, weapons ready, determined to face down the overwhelming odds. They were
Ronin,
on their way to war.

* * *

“
I will not be afraid… I will conquer my fear. I will not be afraid… I will conquer my fear.
”

High on the hillside Miko had watched the scene with a sense of detached pleasure. She'd taken her first heads of the night. Good clean shots, no problem really. She knew that before the night was over she would take many more… but over and over in her head, she recited the litany which kept her strong, kept her focused and which distracted her from contemplating what she had now become: a killer.

“
I will not be afraid… I will conquer my fear. I will not be afraid… I will conquer my fear.
”

She peered through the scope of her rifle. The guards were standing outside the doors, making sure that Gorilla and his men wouldn't be able to escape. The team were effectively trapped inside and would either survive or perish depending on what horrors awaited them. In the distance, coming from somewhere deep within the pagoda, she heard the roar of gunfire as it silenced the screams of dying men. While she might not be able to help the rest of her team inside the pagoda, she was more than capable of clearing an escape route for them should they be able to complete their mission. She counted the amount of guards, all armed and ready, taking up positions at the pagoda's entrance. She counted fifteen, with probably another ten on standby in the adjacent guard house.

Not an impossible number to deal with, but she would have to move quickly, more quickly than she would like under normal circumstances. But if the men inside were to have any chance of escape, she would need to take as many guards down as she could. Miko settled the rifle into her shoulder, slowed her breathing, and looked through the scope as it magnified the features of the first of twenty-five dead men who were still walking – walking, but not for much longer. Her finger took up the pressure on the trigger; she had her zero and fired…

“
I will not be afraid… I will conquer my fear. I will not be afraid… I will conquer my fear,
” said the voice of the killer inside her head.

“Hang on,” whispered Lang. “Let me see if there's a light or a lamp.” He lowered his weapon in the darkness, searching along the wall, groping to find something that would illuminate where they were and their position.

“Andy, don't go too far… stay near… keep your weapon up,” hissed Crane in warning.

There were several more seconds of muffled movement and then they heard Lang say “Gotcha.” From the corner where they'd ascended the staircase, a faint orange glow grew as an archaic oil lamp flickered into life. There was just enough time to register a black-covered figure wielding a deadly black sword coming at Lang from the corner of the room, and then Lang's head left his body, rolling across the matted flooring before finally coming to rest against a large vase in the corner of the room. Gorilla and Crane turned and fired, and shots ripped apart the
Shinobi
assassin, leaving his blood smeared over the wall when he sank slowly to the floor. The oil lamp fell to the floor and once more, the room was enveloped in darkness.

“Corners!” Gorilla shouted and both men, through years of training or perhaps due to some inbred survival system, split away from each other in the darkness. They would each have their own arc of fire within the killing room and God help anyone that came within that zone. Then the shadows of death seemed to melt away from the walls, moving outwards and forwards like ghosts in the night. Gorilla was aware of at least three that he could make out, but who knew how many more were hiding in the deepest recesses of the room. He guessed that Crane would be dealing with a similar number on his side.

He brought the '39 up, punched it straight out and fired twice at where he thought the enemy was, the flash from the muzzle momentarily illuminating the room. He had just enough time to see a black figure in a mask coming straight at him, wielding some kind of sickle, and heard the cry from a second assassin as Gorilla's bullet took him in the shoulder. He pulled the trigger again and
click
! The '39 had jammed. No time to lose, trying to reload would be a death sentence. He was aware of the assassin, mere feet away from him, almost upon him. Gorilla ducked his body, twisted like a coil and when he was sure the assassin was within range, he punched out the inactive handgun in a boxing cross. He heard the crunch, felt it ripple along his arm, as the heavy metal of the weapon smashed teeth and bone and cartilage in the Japanese killer. He heard the man crumple to the floor, but by then Gorilla was already in motion again. He stepped to the side, smacked his left hand into the butt of the '39's magazine, heard a faint click as it seated properly and then he forcefully wracked the slide once, twice, until he was satisfied a round had entered the chamber correctly. He pointed the weapon down where the injured assassin was squatting, felt the end of the barrel touch something solid and fired. The flash confirmed he'd blown off the top of the assassin's head. Over to Gorilla's left, Crane's Remington boomed again and again as it searched in the darkness, trying to slow down the hoard of assassins heading straight at them. He knew that if they managed to get within range both he and the small Redactor would be chopped. Japanese swords had a tendency to be quite unforgiving against flesh. So he turned, dropped to one knee and then fired to his rear… not at anything specific, just at where he thought a likely attack may come from. It was like fighting in deep jungle, jumping at shadows and firing at where you thought the enemy WAS and not IS? With his back clear he stood and turned to face the front, he aimed the Remington in the darkness from the hip and fired… BOOM… he heard a yell of pain and emboldened, he fired again… this time he heard no more cries of agony… one down definitely, he guessed.

There was a brief whistling noise and then Crane felt an unbelievable stab of pain in his right thigh causing him to cry out. It had hit him right in the centre, the metal hitting bone. He brought his left hand down and felt a small spiked wheel half in and half out of the flesh… he knew from the briefing reports that it would be a
Shaken
, the small lethal throwing stars of the
Shinobi
. His only hope now was that it hadn't been tipped with poison, but then again, knowing the type of enemy he was dealing with the odds were that it had been. Which meant he may only have minutes to live…? If that was the case, he was going to take as many of these bastards with him as possible! Crane crouched, his body low, his wounded leg causing him to take small steps. His finger was resting on the trigger of the shotgun ready to take out the
Shaken
thrower… he heard a choking sound from over on his left and then seconds later the sounds of gunshots… Gorilla was making his '39 sing…

* * *

The boom of Crane's shotgun was sweet music to Gorilla's ears and for those few moments while his gun was jammed, he'd thought he was done for, until the Special Forces soldier worked the shotgun and gave him time to get back into the fight.

Gorilla felt a whisper around his ears; material brushing against his skin, and the touch of a cord grazed his cheeks. Then there was a 'snap' as the cord was lowered from above him and pulled tight, encircling his throat! He was lifted inches off the floor and the chokehold was already starting to take effect. His left hand clawed up instinctively, desperately trying to get his fingers underneath the assassin's cord, anything to relieve the pressure and allow some air to get through to his lungs. He tried and failed, found himself lifted another inch, the toes of his shoes barely managing to keep contact with the wooden floor. He gulped, trying to squeeze any last bits of oxygen into his lungs… but still failing. His worry wasn't just the strangulation, it was that he was strung up here like a prize turkey, fair game for any sword-wielding assassin who happened to be near.
Move, do something, do anything, but don't just hang here waiting to be strangled or stabbed!
he thought.

The '39?

He lifted his weapon arm straight up, aiming at where he thought the assassin must be… his consciousness slowly starting to slip away. His life was measured now in seconds, fractions of seconds and it took all of his will to make his finger work the trigger. He was vaguely aware of shots firing from the '39, how many he wasn't sure, but however many it was, it seemed to be enough because he dropped to the floor, the pressure on his throat relieved. He breathed heavily, gulping air back into his lungs… and then he became aware of a body falling from above and landing on the floor in front of him. The assassin! He was still moving, wounded, but still lethal. Gorilla pushed his off-hand forward, found the man's head, jammed the '39 at an angle under where he thought his chin was and unloaded three 9mm rounds. There was a muffled boom and an unmistakable splatter of brain tissue as the bullets ripped off the top of the assassin's head. The body flopped limply aside.

Gorilla, still reeling from the strangulation, was now conscious of a new figure coming straight at him. He saw the ambient light glint off the edge of a razor sharp blade as it twirled, ready to strike at him as he crouched on the floor. With seconds to spare, Gorilla flung himself backwards, landing hard on his back, gaining some time to bring up the '39 one handed and start firing in a zipper motion, starting at the bottom of his range and working upwards in a straight line. He estimated that four of his rounds hit home, jerking the assassin back and halting his progress. The silver edge of the sword dropped but it was the final 'boom' of a Remington which took off the side of the assassin's head. In the ensuing silence, Gorilla knew that there were no more demons in the darkness left for them to kill.

* * *

They found two oil lamps in the room and lit them. What they faced brought home the vivid violence of what they'd just survived. Gorilla counted eight bodies. The room resembled an abattoir. The remains of the
Shinobi
assassins were littered across the floor, lying at unnatural angles, black robed figures awash with bullet holes and shotgun blast trauma. All manner of swords, ropes, knives and sickles were thrown around the room in an equally haphazard manner.

Crane sat down on the floor and Gorilla watched as he carefully removed a
Shaken,
the small lethal throwing stars of the
Shinobi,
out of a wound on his thigh, wincing as the small metal star eased its way out. There was no need to question whether it was poisoned or not, the shake in his hands and the unnatural pallor of his skin told Gorilla that it had been. He just hoped they would have enough time to complete the mission before death took him.

Gorilla searched the room carefully, in case there was a hidden assassin lurking somewhere, waiting, ready to strike out with a sword. He'd picked up Lang's Remington and was using it now to search the room. He used one of the assassin's cloth masks to cover up the severed head of their fallen comrade. Minutes later, he declared the room was secured. Crane limped over to where Gorilla was standing and they both looked up at the locked hatch at the top of the staircase, leading to the next level of the Pagoda.

“Why do you think no one has followed us from the lower levels?” asked Crane.

It was a good question and one Gorilla had been thinking hard about. “I think we've been lured into a bloody big trap. The guards outside, if Miko hasn't taken them out already, are to stop us from escaping, not stopping us from getting this far. Whatever is up there never wants us to leave this place.”

Crane took a moment to let Gorilla's words sink in, before he spoke again. “What about getting up there?” he questioned, jerking a thumb at the padlocked hatch. Gorilla studied it. It was padlocked from the outside, so whoever was up there wanted to slow them down and not stop them completely. Almost as if this were a game and they were being toyed with.

“Do you have any solid rounds left for the Remington?” asked Gorilla. Solid slugs could easily take care of the huge padlock affixed to the hatch, as well as any hinges which might hold it in place. Three quick 'booms' from the Remington and the doorway to the next floor level would be wide open.

“Of course!” Crane replied.

Gorilla had already started loading the rest of the shotgun cartridges into the Remington and replaced his dead magazine with a fresh one. “Then load up a few more and blast off that lock, old son, we're going to kick the arse off whatever is up there waiting for us.”