Mai coughed. “Some larger than others.”
Smyth swung their car around a blockage, sped by a flashing ambulance with all its doors open and paramedics working on people involved in the incident, and jammed his foot on the gas pedal once more.
“Did you find what you were looking for, Mai?” Alicia said evenly and politely. “When you left the team behind?”
It had all happened so long ago now, but Drake vividly remembered Mai Kitano walking away, her head brimming with guilt at the deaths she had inadvertently caused. Out of that single incident during the search for her parents — the killing of a Yakuza money launderer — much had changed.
“My parents are now safe,” Mai said. “As is Grace. I beat the clan. Chika. Dai. I found much of what I sought.”
“So why did you come back?”
Drake found his eyes fixed firmly to the road, and his ears pinned firmly toward the back seat. It was an unusual time to be debating consequences and questioning decisions, but it was quite typical for Alicia, and might be their last chance to set at least something straight.
“Why did I come back?” Mai repeated lightly. “Because I care. I care for this team.”
Alicia whistled. “Good answer. Is that the only reason?”
“You’re asking if I came back for Drake. If I anticipated that you two would build some kind of new rapport. If I thought for one second that he’d have moved on. Even, if he might give me a second chance. Well, the answer is simple — I don’t know.”
“Third chance,” Alicia pointed out. “If he was dumb enough to take you back again it would be your third chance.”
Drake saw the approaching entrance to the zoo as he felt the rising tension in the back seat, the poignant and precarious emotions bristling. They needed a room for all this, preferably a padded one.
“Wrap it up, guys,” he said. “We’re here.”
“This ain’t done, Sprite. This Alicia is the new model. She’s decided not to run into the sunset anymore. Now, we stand, we learn, and we deal with it.”
“I see that and admire it,” Mai said. “I do like the new you, Alicia, despite what you might think.”
Drake turned away, filled with mutual respect, and at a total loss as to how this scenario might eventually play out. But it was time to file it all away now, place it on the shelf, because they were heading fast towards the new Armageddon, soldiers and saviors and heroes to the very end.
And if they were watching, perhaps playing chess, even God and the Devil would have caught their breath.
CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN
Smyth squealed the tires around a final corner and then crushed down on the brake pedal with a heavy foot. Drake was opening the door before the vehicle stopped, and swung his legs out. Mai was already free of the back door, Alicia a step behind. Smyth nodded at the waiting cops.
“They said you needed to know the fastest way to the Tropical Zone?” One of the uniforms asked. “Well, follow that path straight down.” He pointed. “It’ll be on the left.”
“Thanks.” Smyth took a guide map and showed it to the others. Dahl came jogging up.
“We ready?”
“As we can be,” Alicia said. “Aw, look,” she pointed at the map. “They call the on-site gift shop a Zootique.”
“Then let’s roll.”
Drake entered the zoo, senses attuned, expecting the worst and knowing Ramses would have more than one nasty trick up his unaffiliated sleeve. The group spread out and thinned out, already moving faster than they should and without due care, but knowing every second that passed was a new death knell. Drake took note of the signs and soon saw the Tropical Zone up ahead. As they approached, the scenery all around them started to move.
Eight men burst from cover, knives drawn as they had been ordered, bidden to make the rescuers’ last battle painful and extremely bloody. Drake ducked under a swing and hurled its wielder over his back, then met the next attack head-on. Beau and Mai stepped to the fore, their combat skills essential today.
The eight attackers all wore stab vests and face masks and they fought with skill, as Drake had known they would. Ramses never picked from lower down the pile. Mai redirected a swift jab, tried to break the arm but found it wrenched away, her own balance upset. The next stab glanced off her shoulder, absorbed by her own vest, but giving her a moment’s pause. Beau passed among them all, the veritable shadow of death. Ramses’ legionnaires fell away or skipped aside to avoid the Frenchman.
Drake fell back against a barrier, arms upraised. The fence cracked behind him as his opponent struck with both feet off the ground. Both men tumbled away to another path, struggling as they rolled. The Englishman slammed fist after fist against the legionnaire’s head, but succeeded in only hitting an arm raised up for protection. He heaved the body to where he wanted it, rose to his knees and pounded down. A knife slunk up and jabbed at his ribs, still painful despite the protection. Drake doubled down on the attack.
The melee near to the entrance of the Tropical Zone intensified. Mai and Beau found their opponents’ faces. Blood splashed across the group. Legionnaires fell with broken limbs and concussions, and the main offender was Mano Kinimaka. The huge Hawaiian bulldozed his attackers as if he was trying to challenge the very waves, smash them apart. If a legionnaire came into his path Kinimaka struck without mercy, a superhuman linebacker, an indestructible plow. His path was entirely errant, so both Alicia and Smyth found themselves diving out of his way. Legionnaires landed beside them, groaning, but were easy to finish.
Dahl traded hand-to-hand blows with something of an expert. Knife thrusts came in hard and fast, low then high, then to the chest and face; the Swede blocking them all with lightning reflexes and hard-earned skill. His opponent didn’t let up, clinical in his execution, quickly sensing he had met an equal and needed to change it up.
Dahl sidestepped as the legionnaire introduced feet and elbows as follow ups to the knife attacks. The first elbow caught him across the temple, raising his awareness and helping to anticipate the myriad assaults. He fell to one knee, punching under an arm straight to the pit and the nerve cluster there, making the legionnaire drop his blade in agony. In the end though it was the brawling Kinimaka who smashed the fighter off his feet, pure charging muscle breaking bone and tearing tendons. Mano sported blackening bruises along his jawline and cheekbones and ran with a limp, but nothing could stop him. Dahl imagined he’d smash right through the wall of the building like a Hawaiian Hulk if the door was locked.
Kenzie found it simpler to dart around the edges of the fray, damaging those she could and bemoaning the fact that she still didn’t have her katana. Dahl knew she possessed a learned, special skill and could have assailed one legionnaire after another, each a one-thrust kill, saving the team precious time. But this day was almost done.
One way or another.
Drake found his fist flurry deflected. He fell to the side as the legionnaire caught his wrist and twisted. Pain warped his features. He rolled with the abnormal bend, relieved the pressure, and found himself face to face with his assailant.
“Why?” he asked.
“Just here to slow you down,” the legionnaire smirked. “Tick tock. Tick tock.”
Drake pushed hard, now on his feet. “You’ll die too.”
“We all die, fool.”
Faced with such fanaticism, Drake struck without an ounce of mercy, breaking the man’s nose and jaw, his ribs too. These people knew exactly what they were doing, and still they struggled on. Not a man among them deserved to draw another breath.
Gasping, the legionnaire thrust his knife at Drake. The Yorkshireman caught it, twisted it clear, and reversed it so that it sat up to the hilt in the other man’s skull. Before the body hit the grass Drake joined the main melee.