The man turned away and headed for the weapon that he’d dropped. It was somewhere in the shadows of the farthest corner, but it was nearly impossible to see along the edges. Tommy pushed himself up, fighting through the aching pain in his belly, and charged at the man’s back.
Adriana ducked a kick from Caron, but he was too fast and chopped down into her back with his elbow. She huffed in pain, but was able to roll out of the way as he tried to bring the heel of his shoe down on her face. He stomped a second time, narrowly missing her again. The third time, she reached up and grabbed his foot, twisting it at an awkward angle and using the momentum to spin him in midair and send him crashing to the ground.
She pushed herself off the ground and took a step back, preparing for his next attack. It came harder this time. Caron launched a furious assault, throwing one punch after the other at her face and torso. Adriana deflected one after the other with her forearms and blocked with her hands. With each attack, Caron’s anger grew. A sloppy jab at her nose was met easily as she swiped the arm down and head butted Caron squarely on the nose. Blood spewed out of it, and he reached up instinctively to tend to the damage. As he did, Adriana took two huge steps and leaped through the air.
Dufort easily wiped aside Sean’s attacks. Every kick, every punch, everything he tried was blocked and knocked away. The slender Frenchman had obviously taken jujitsu at some point, and his expertise at close-quarters combat was daunting.
Sean reached with one hand and grabbed at the man’s wrist in an attempt to use a judo flip and get him on the ground, but Dufort’s reaction was too fast, and he reversed the motion, twisting his arm and grasping Sean’s. He brought Sean toward him in an instant, and Sean felt the man’s elbow crunch into his ribs where the bruise from the bullet still lingered.
He involuntarily grunted from the pain, but his moment to hurt was short lived as Dufort chopped the base of his head where it met the neck. Everything suddenly became blurry and darker. Sean stumbled forward for a moment and landed on all fours, barely able to keep his balance. Another shot of pain rang through his abdomen as Dufort kicked him hard with the tip of his pointy shoes. Sean’s arms gave out, and he collapsed, his face smacking against the cold, hard stone.
Dufort had reached down and grabbed Sean’s ankle to drag him across the floor when he realized what was attached to Sean’s leg.
Tommy lunged at the bodyguard’s back and landed on top of him, driving the man’s head forward toward the jagged stone wall ahead. The man tried to put out his hands to stop his momentum, but he couldn’t react in time, and his head slammed into the wall at a horrific pace.
There was a sickening smack and crunch as Tommy drove the man’s skull into the wall again. The bodyguard went limp and dropped to the floor. Tommy didn’t know if he was dead or unconscious, but at the moment, he didn’t have time to check.
He crouched down and ran his hand along the wall until he found what he was looking for: the cold, familiar shape of his pistol.
Adriana flew through the air, aiming her boot’s heel at Caron’s chest. His vision was blurred from the nose injury, but he still had enough presence left to take a side step and grab her leg in midair. He used her inertia against her and flung her against the wall behind him, her shoulder and face smacking against it hard before she fell to the floor.
Caron wiped his nose with his forearm and stalked over to her as she rolled back and forth, trying to regain her bearings. Her left temple throbbed where her head had struck the wall’s hard surface, and her shoulder screamed with pain. Caron reached to his belt and pulled a five-inch-long hunting knife from its sheath. He flipped the blade around in his hand and held the tip over her chest. He leaned down and was about stab when a loud bang roared through the corridor.
Warm liquid splashed on Adriana’s face just as Caron toppled sideways to the floor, a hole in the side of his head.
Adriana fiddled with her hands for a moment and was able to prop herself up. Her vision cleared a little, and she could see Tommy standing in the corner holding something black in his hands, aimed in her direction.
He’d killed Dufort’s bodyguard.
“Drop it!” An irritatingly familiar French voice rang out from the other side of the corridor. “Or I will kill your friend right now.”
Adriana slowly picked herself up and looked in the direction of the voice. Tommy kept his weapon trained in that general direction. Dufort was standing over Sean with a gun pointed at him.
“Give it up, Dufort,” Tommy yelled. “There’s no way you’re getting out of this castle if you pull that trigger. You kill him, I kill you. You lose.”
“You lose too in that case, my American friend. Put down your weapon, or I kill him. Is that something you’re willing to risk?”
Tommy thought hard. The distance between him and the Frenchman was nearly fifteen yards. He could make the shot, but he could also miss. If he missed, Sean was dead.
Think, Tommy, he thought to himself. What would Sean do?
Sean would stall him.
“Don’t let this guy get away, Tommy. You take him down. Don’t worry about me.” Sean’s said groggily. He’d regained consciousness, but sounded like he’d been through a bottle of bourbon.
Tommy shook his head slowly, back and forth. “Not gonna let you die, buddy. Besides, our French friend here doesn’t want to let that treasure slip through his hands.”
In the dimly lit room, a questioning look passed over Dufort’s face. “What do you mean?”
“I know where the next clue is,” he answered confidently.
Dufort considered what Tommy was saying. “You’re bluffing. Drop your weapon, or I kill him!”
“I’m not bluffing, Dufort. I found the burial mound of Holger Danske’s captain, Asmund. And it’s right outside this castle, marked by a stone in the side of the hill.” Tommy pointed with his index finger to a random point on the wall he believed to be close to the direction he’d come from. “I saw it myself. Why do you think I’m soaking wet right now?”
The last point did make Dufort wonder. Was he telling the truth? And if he was, what was the next step.
“So what? We all walk outside together, hand in hand with guns pointed at each other?” He shook his head. “You put down your weapon, and I will let you show me where Asmund’s grave is. If you are not lying, I will let you go. But if you are, I will kill every one of you.”
“How am I supposed to trust you? How do we know you won’t kill us anyway?”
“It’s the risk you will have to take. But I am tired of these games. Make your decision in three seconds, or I put a bullet in your friend’s head.”
“Don’t listen to him, Tommy. Ice this guy right now.”
“Your friend is brave,” Dufort said. “But I am not so sure you can make that shot anyway. Three.” He began his countdown. “Two.”
Suddenly, a bright flash of lightning and an explosion of thunder interrupted the dramatic pause. The floor lights blinked for a second and went black, casting the entire room into pitch darkness. Dufort fired his gun, but the bullet sparked off the floor and ricocheted dangerously off the angled ceiling and walls. Tommy didn’t fire his weapon. The deadly bouncing bullet meant that Dufort had missed his mark. It was imperative that Tommy didn’t give away his position right away. He crept forward at an angle to close the distance between him and the Frenchman, careful not to trip or lose his footing. His hands kept the weapon at full extension, aimed at where he believed Dufort’s position had been, though it was difficult to tell in the absolute darkness.