What he found were slit throats and an unguarded entrance. He had gone topside then, and found a similar scene at the amphitheater. Someone had killed his men, and his reinforcements were nowhere in sight. He’d contemplated going back to the cemetery, but he had suddenly understood what had happened. The clones had arranged it for Richard. They would get him out, using the men Darius had paid for. If he returned to the cemetery — his command center for this operation — there would be killers waiting for him.
Instead, he had waited in the shadows near the amphitheater for a time. Then he had gone back to the fountain entrance, waiting in the darkness patiently. Eventually the Korean—Knight, yes, that’s his callsign—and a Russian woman emerged. He had followed them as the smaller man ditched his armor and frantically radioed his people.
Darius really couldn’t believe things had come to this. First his brother had sidelined him for some minor failings, shuffling him off to act as head of security for a mostly pointless facility in the Ukraine. Ostensibly it was to keep him away from the more violent actions going on at some of the more important bases in Peru and the States. But in the end, that hadn’t mattered. The female member of Chess Team, Queen, had stumbled upon his base and infiltrated it before they even knew she was there. After a pitched battle, the bitch chewed his ear right off the side of his head.
She had gotten away, and he had barely escaped with his life. There was no chance of going back to his brother’s people then, and Richard himself had been missing and presumed dead. Instead, Darius had used his own resources to slowly comb through Manifold installations, hunting for any sign of Richard or the damned Chess Team. In the end, his people had located the Greek, and from that, Darius had found the clones. His people — well, he had thought they were his people — had watched the doubles long enough to learn that they thought Richard was being held in Tunisia at the Greek’s captured installation.
But Darius’s plan to kill off the clones, his brother and Chess Team, as well as to capture the bitch and torture her until the sun went out, was off the boards now. Now he just needed to make the best of the situation, kill as many of the traitorous bastards as possible and get out of Tunisia alive.
When the chance to ambush the little Korean presented itself, he couldn’t resist. And now, as the man coughed blood in the sand, Darius was suddenly feeling fine. Great, even.
He kicked the man on the ground again. He had knocked the Russian chick a good one, and he would turn his attention to her when he was done with this one.
He didn’t know why the ground was shaking. Didn’t care. He guessed maybe a shit-ton of explosives had gone off below in the base. It didn’t matter.
The squinty-eyed fucker was crawling away from him, looking up in horror. As if that would help him. He could crawl all he wanted. He wasn’t going to get away.
Suddenly something slammed into Darius from behind, and the ground shook violently again. He hit the dirt face down, taking a cloud of dust in the mouth. Now he was pissed. He rolled to the side and saw it had been the feisty little Rusky. Okay, bitch. We’re gonna dance. But instead of fighting, the woman was frantically trying to drag the Korean away.
He pulled a long Kennesaw Cutlery survival knife from its sheath on his leg. He couldn’t believe the little slut wasn’t even looking at him.
The ground rumbled again, and he had a hard time staying on his feet this time. When he regained his balance, he noticed the two of them weren’t looking at him.
They were looking up.
FIFTY-ONE
Knight couldn’t tear his eyes away, as the giant foot came down.
The bald mercenary with the missing ear, who had kicked the crap out of him, only thought to look up at the last second. By that point, he wouldn’t have been able to even understand what was about to flatten him.
The immense foot smashed to the ground, squirting the mercenary out from under its heel like a stamped-on ketchup packet. The giant foot had fallen so close to Knight that for a few seconds, he wasn’t sure whether any of the gore had come from his own body. He wondered whether he would have even felt a limb or two being flattened that fast.
But then the huge foot took another step, and Knight could see the grotesque imprint of the flattened man on the underside of the thing’s massive foot, dripping wetness, as it swept overhead and pivoted, back the way it had come.
Knight coughed feebly, spitting up a wad of bloody phlegm. He was faring better than the man who’d attacked him, but he’d taken a beating.“Probably…gonna need a doctor.”
“I’ll get you to the others. Contact Queen,” Asya said.
Knight couldn’t stop coughing, so he fumbled at his ear with one hand and passed the earpiece to Asya, along with his throat mic, which he peeled away from his neck. The glue on the microphone had turned gooey in the heat.
“Pawn to Queen. Knight is in bad shape. Need assistance right now,” Asya donned the communications gear, pulling the transmitter pack from Knight’s belt. “Also, there is velikan on the loose.”
“A what?” came Queen’s reply.
“Velikan. Is Russian word for Great Big Fucking Giant.”
“We’ve seen. What’s wrong with Knight?”
Asya sighed. “Mercenary kicked crap out of him. He’s coughing blood.”
“Where are you?”
“That thing nearly stepped on us a second ago,” Asya said, as Knight finally settled down and stopped hacking.
“Okay. Stay put. I’m sending your parents to you.”
Asya turned to Knight. “She is sending my mother and father. We’ll get you to a hospital.”
“I’ll be able to limp around with an adrenaline shot,” Knight said.
“I haven’t got one. We will see what we can do. Queen says to stay here.”
Asya sat on the ground next to him and wiped some of the muck from his face with her hand.
“Flat man was a pig, but this end was undignified — even for him.”
“Quick, though,” Knight said with a laugh, and then winced at the pain in his ribs. He was pretty sure a few of them were broken. His face felt butchered too. His left arm was sore where a bullet had grazed him, and he felt like he had to pee, but if he did it would be extremely painful.
“Not gonna be much use fighting whatever the hell that thing was.”
Asya patted him on the head. “Don’t worry, Sniper-Man. We’ll just blow it up. Won’t need a steady shot for that.”
“I knew letting Ridley out was a bad idea,” Knight said, as he rubbed his forehead.
Asya said nothing.
He turned to look at her. “About Jack…I’m sorry, Asya.” She nodded, then turned away. “Now is not the time.”
They lapsed into silence, and Knight closed his eyes. He was in no shape to help her repel any more mercenaries if they showed up, and she was a pretty good shot with an MP-5. He could rest.
A minute later, Peter and Lynn Machtchenko came rushing down the path. She carried another MP-5, and he held a couple of small nylon pouches in his hands. Peter skidded to a stop and began frantically unzipping the pouches. Lynn remained standing and kept looking behind her.