Drake watched as the group of men and youths ranged out and paused. Faces set, eyes hard, there was no doubt as to their intentions. Drake saw two further men heading for the car he’d arrived in.
But why blunt weapons? Why not the usual selection of guns and rocket launchers?
Before he had time to think, the attackers surged forward. Dahl smashed into the first three, scattering them end-over-end like bowling pins, then grabbed another by his long hair as the guy raced past. A high-pitched squeal and a blur of motion, then the guy was airborne, spinning and crashing into two more of his compatriots.
“Six!” Dahl yelled for good measure.
Four seconds had elapsed.
Alicia face-palmed her first two opponents, then kicked the third in the crotch. She didn’t yell out because she was losing, but beckoned more attackers toward her.
“C’mon boys,” she cried out. “Get yer nuts cracked here!”
As more veered toward her, Mai stepped into the gap, finishing off several attackers that still writhed around and another that had started to climb to his feet. Her face showed that she disapproved of both Dahl’s and Alicia’s tactics, but Drake knew that both of them were aware that Mai was mopping up at their backs.
Dahl stood like a concrete column, arm upraised as a baseball bat descended toward him. Unable to dodge, he withstood the impact, barely flinching as the bat shattered and broke apart on his great bulk. Its wielder then stared at the Swede in shock and awe, mouth hitting the floor only a split second before his forehead caved in.
Dahl moved on.
Drake caught a stray, at first disarming the youth that had outflanked Mai then gripping his throat as he lifted him off the ground.
“Ay up. What’s appertaining ‘ere then?”
The youth’s eyes remained blank, not registering the question.
“Oh right. Y’see, once back in Yorkshire s’pose I just revert.” Drake cleared his throat. “All right, wanker. What the hell’s going on?”
He shook the youth for good measure. Amidst hacking and a flourishing purple hue, Drake’s captive managed to squeeze out a few words. “She. Wants. You.”
Unconsciousness took him. Drake discarded the limp body with disdain, suddenly more alert. He watched Alicia deflect a hammer shaft, then use it to nullify two men; saw Mai neutralize another three; and watched Dahl stride through the middle of it all, a hurricane of energy and force, unbending. Already he had reached the line of their adversaries’ cars and was turning back into the fray. He was just in time to catch a man in the act of assaulting the Swede whilst his back was turned. Not surprisingly, that man soon found himself flying over the roof of a Range Rover Sport.
Alicia smashed knees and heads on her way to Dahl. Drake heard their little exchange over the screams of broken-limbed men.
“Twelve!”
“Eight. Dammit, Dahl, ya got lucky. One more time?”
Dahl inclined his head. “After you.”
Alicia picked up a bat, clearly resorting to desperate measures, but Dahl had already caught a tardily swung pickaxe handle in the palm of his hand and wrenched it out of its owner’s hand. The two darted forward again, leaving agony in their wake.
Mai turned to Drake with a raised eyebrow. “Always a pleasure going into battle with those two.”
“Pleasure’s all theirs,” Drake grunted. Now that the immediate danger was over he scanned the perimeter before turning to Karin.
Ben’s sister’s face said it all. There were no words. Their world, their life, was never going to be normal anymore. One more crazy day like this could be just added to the mounting pile. Komodo, looking odd in his smart suit, nodded at the line of cars.
“Did see a few kids heading over to the cars.”
Drake had seen them too. “Stick together,” he said. “And let’s go.”
The four of them picked their way through Dahl and Alicia’s chaotic battlefield, Drake having to administer two knockout blows in order to further subdue some of the more spirited opponents. He was careful not to completely incapacitate anyone, as Dahl and even Alicia had been. These youths had been sent poorly armed for a reason and Drake had no doubt they had no clue who they’d actually gone up against.
It would be a mysterious one for the memory-banks, if they retained any memory of it at all.
Drake and Mai scanned the row of cars, remaining vigilant as they cleared each opponent’s vehicle. By the time they reached their own, Dahl and Alicia had rejoined them, both grinning and breathing easily.
“Great way to start the day,” Alicia said instantly, before remembering where she was and throwing Karin a long-suffering look. The Englishwoman had confided very little since the events in DC, but the Slayers had now departed to Europe for Lomas’ and much of the rest of the gang’s funerals. Alicia had chosen to remain with the SPEAR team, but Drake had the impression she was still running, still searching, refusing to lie down and grieve or take comfort — especially now that another she had clearly loved was dead.
Dahl, in the lead as ever, had stopped near one of their cars. After a moment’s pause he fell to his stomach and checked the vehicle’s underside, the wheel-wells and small cavities. As Drake approached he saw that something was stuck to the windshield.
“A parking ticket?” Karin wondered. “Surely not.”
Drake stared. The object was a padded envelope, and it had four names typed in bold across its face.
“I guess I know what this is.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Drake scooped up the envelope and exited the cemetery in a hurry. Nobody spoke again until the team were safely entrenched in a hastily booked hotel suite. It wasn’t just that they didn’t trust safe houses anymore, though understandably so, it was mostly because they could already guess some of the particulars and parameters that might exist within the contents of the envelope.
Once secure, Drake opened the envelope and upended its contents. A small, silver voice recorder fell out, clattering onto the table with a plastic rap. The team simply stared at him. Drake reached out and pressed the ‘play’ button.
“Hello, Matt.” The sugary tones almost made him shiver. Old, great memories mixed with shocking betrayal and pure disbelief. Even now… even now he struggled to believe.
“And greetings to Torsten, Alicia and Mai, I hope. This message goes out to all of you. You are invited to attend the tournament of the decade. The world’s best killers will be there, thirteen in total. You will have twenty four hours to become the Last Man Standing, to prove that you are the best. For you, Drake, it offers the chance to face me — Coyote, also known as Shelly Cohen in case you haven’t recognized me.” Laughter.
Drake gritted his teeth in silence.
“I will join the fray once ten hours has elapsed to spice up the battle. For Torsten, Alicia and Mai it offers fair competition and the chance to help your so-called family. But make no mistake, team — this is purely last man standing. Only one can walk away.”
“But how—” Komodo stared to say, but Alicia waved him to silence.
“You may be wondering how I can hold you all to this? Well, if you don’t turn up I will kill you and your families. I’m sure you know by now that I can do it. And it will be slow — and painful — dragged out for years.” Coyote’s sickly laughter hummed through the tinny speakers. “As for your other questions, know that our tournament takes place in the heart of a sleepy country town. I already have enough explosives inside the town and around the perimeter to wipe it off the face of the map. I’ll reveal the location later but I warn you — tell no one. I will know. Exploding bumpkins are not your goal. Yes, I have other surprises, but it would be a shame if I revealed them all before we start, don’t you think? Check the classifieds in the Post tonight, last edition. And do not disappoint me, Team SPEAR. The world wants to know who is best. Let’s find out.”