Dahl was first into action, but instead of loosing his weapon he tucked it away, gripped the box, and jumped up onto the battlements themselves. “British have the right idea for a change. Look…”
Drake followed his eye. The battlements swept in a wide arc all the way back down to the beach and the undulating sea. If they timed it right the chopper would be able to pluck them right off the top or at the very end. Drake took the responsibility of firing a couple of shots into the craggy concrete under the British feet, slowing them and allowing the team time to climb onto the top of the slightly roll-topped fortifications.
Alicia wobbled. “Not keen on heights!”
“Do you ever stop whining?” Kenzie intentionally squeezed past her, giving her a tiny nudge on the way.
“Ooh bitch, you’ll pay for that.” Alicia sounded unsure.
“Will I? Just make sure you stay behind me. That way when they shoot you and I hear you scream I’ll know to pick up the pace.”
Alicia fumed. Drake steadied her. “Just Mossad banter.” He spread his arms.
“Right. Well when we get down from here I’m gonna properly Mossad her ass.”
Drake guided her the first few steps. “Is that supposed to sound arousing?”
“Fuck off, Drake.”
He thought it best not to mention that the battlements, far below, turned into spaced crenellations where they would have to jump from one to the other. Dahl jogged down the three-foot-wide wall first, leading the team. Kinimaka relieved Smyth at the back for once, observing the British. Drake and the rest kept eyes open for any other signs of enemies.
The race down the battlements began. The SAS soldiers kept formation and came in pursuit, weapons raised but silent. Of course, professional leniency might be only one of the reasons; in addition to tourists, locals, the preference toward secrecy, and highly secure orders.
Drake found he needed full concentration for his feet. The drop to each side and the gradual descent to the sea didn’t matter, only the safe zone beneath his feet. It wound gradually, gracefully even, in a steady curve. Nobody slowed, nobody slipped. They were halfway to their goal when the sound of thudding rotors filled their ears.
Drake slowed, looked to the skies. “Not ours,” he shouted. “Bloody French!”
It wasn’t a definitive deduction but would explain their absence until now. Swooping in at the last minute. Team SPEAR were forced to slow their pace. Drake saw the faces of two soldiers leering out the windows, whilst two more dangled from the half-open doors, weapons coming around to get a proper lock.
“Truth be told,” Dahl panted. “This might not have been the best idea. Bloody British bell-ends.”
As one, Drake, Smyth, Hayden and Mai elevated their guns and opened fire. Bullets ricocheted off the approaching chopper. Glass smashed and one man fell from his rope, smashing hard to the ground below. The chopper veered away, chased by Hayden’s bullets.
“The French are not fans,” she said grimly.
“Tell us something we don’t know,” Alicia muttered.
Yorgi sprinted nimbly ahead of Dahl, passing him on the outside lip of the wall, and reached back for the box. “Here, give it to me,” he said. “I am better on the wall, no?”
Dahl looked like he wanted to argue, but handed the box over mid-run. The Swede wasn’t a stranger to a bit of Parkour, but Yorgi was a pro. The Russian sped off at top speed, racing down the wall and already approaching the crenellations.
Alicia spotted them. “Oh hell, shoot me now.”
“That may yet happen.” Drake saw the French helicopter banking and coming around. Trouble was, if they stopped to aim, the British would catch them. If they ran firing, they could possibly fall or be easily picked off.
Dahl swung his weapon around. Both he and Hayden fired upon the chopper as it came back into play. This time the soldiers aboard fired back. Rounds stitched the castle walls in a deadly pattern, striking below the rim. Hayden’s own fire struck the helo’s cockpit, clanging off the metal struts. Drake saw the pilot clenching his teeth in a mix of anger and fear. A hyper-quick glance back showed the SAS team also sighting on the chopper — a good sign? Maybe not. They wanted the weapon of war for themselves.
Or for somebody highly placed in their government.
A volley of shots peppered the bird, making it dip and yaw. Dahl took advantage of the last solid hundred meters of wall to drop and slide whilst firing, but he didn’t get far. The surface was too rough. Still, his actions sent another salvo into the chopper, finally making the pilot give up the ghost and pull the bird away from the action.
Alicia managed a faint cheer.
“Not out of this yet.” Drake leapt the crenellations one at a time, landing safely and taking it carefully.
Lauren’s voice slashed apart the silence that blanketed the comms. “Helo inbound. Thirty seconds.”
“We’re on the wall,” Alicia cried.
“Yeah, I gotcha. DC tasked a satellite to this op.”
Drake took another moment to be shocked. “To help?” he asked quickly.
“Why else?” Hayden shot back instantly.
Drake almost kicked himself before realizing it was probably a bad idea given the current situation. Truth was, he didn’t know who else had heard those quiet American tones and the words SEAL Team 7.
Clearly, not Hayden.
The chopper came into view ahead, nose down, sweeping in fast over the sea. Yorgi was already waiting at the end of the battlements where a small round turret looked out over the narrow beach. Dahl soon reached him and then Hayden. The chopper approached.
Drake let Alicia go, and then helped Kinimaka past. Still moving slowly, he made a point of holding out a trailing hand, signaling the SAS. Thirty feet up from the turret, he stopped.
The SAS stopped too, another thirty feet above.
“We don’t want casualties,” he shouted. “Not between us. We’re on the same bloody side!”
Guns sighted on his body. From below he heard Dahl’s bellow: “Stop being a—”
Drake tuned him out. “Please,” he said. “This is not right. We’re all soldiers here, even the friggin’ French.”
That brought an anonymous chuckle. Finally, a deep voice said, “Orders.”
“Mate, I know,” Drake said. “Been where you are. We got the same orders, but we’re not about to fire upon friendly Spec Ops… unless they fire first.”
One of the five figures rose slightly. “Cambridge,” he said.
“Drake,” he replied. “Matt Drake.”
The ensuing silence told the story. Drake knew the stand-off was over… for now. At the very least he’d earned another reprieve at the next confrontation and maybe even a quiet conversation. The more of these elite soldiers they could draw together the safer it would be.
For everyone.
He nodded, turned, and walked away, reached up for the hand that helped pull him inside the helicopter.
“They cool?” Alicia asked.
Drake settled himself as the chopper banked away. “We’ll find out,” he answered. “The next time we come into conflict.”
Surprisingly, Lauren sat opposite him. “I came with the chopper,” she said by way of explanation.
“What? As like — an option?”
She smiled tolerantly. “No. I came because our work here is done.” The helicopter rose high above the sun-dappled waves. “We’re heading out of Africa and toward the next corner of the world.”
“Which is where?” Drake snapped his seat-belt shut.
“China. And boy, do we have a lot of work to do.”
“Another Horseman? Which one this time?”
“Arguably the baddest of them all. Buckle in, my friends. We’re about to follow in the footsteps of Genghis Kahn.”