“Cover me.”
“Are you crazy?” Kamala said. In the background, Reaper and Camacho were exchanging heavy gunfire with the mercs as they tried to get closer to Nikolai.
“Do it.”
Before she replied, he scrambled off the trench behind the gully rocks and crossed the battlefield. Skidding to a dusty halt beside the wounded man, he hefted him up over his shoulder and staggered to his feet. Above his head, he looked up to the top of the gully and saw his team unleashing hell on the mercs. Slowly, they were forcing them to retreat back to the cover of the freshly blasted tomb entrance.
He sprinted back up to the gully and dumped the Russian down into the dirt. “Where are you in pain?”
“I think it went into my shoulder.”
Lea scrambled over, bullets tracing over her head. Ripping the Russian’s hoodie and shirt off, the wounded man made a feeble attempt at a joke, but she ignored it. “There’s an exit wound,” she said to Hawke. “In and out.”
“Thank buggery for that.”
Lexi cried out. “Wait, there’s another vehicle approaching.”
Hawke looked down to the road and saw a black car at the head of a trail of dust. It pulled up beside the trucks and a man in a suit climbed out of the driver’s door. Walking around to the rear door, he opened it and Dimitrov stepped out into the night.
“What do you know?” Zeke said. “If it ain’t our Bulgarian mafia boss come to see his little map.”
Behind them, Lea wrapped a shred of the torn shirt around Nikolai’s wound. “Shame the King can’t give it to him then.”
“There are two other mercs with him,” Hawke said.
Reaper peered down as the mafia boss and his merc guard walked over to the cave. “The one in front is called Vizard. I know of him, but never worked with him. He and Crombez are old friends. The other may be called Lagarde, but I’m not sure.”
“Shooting’s gone quiet,” Camacho said.
“They must be out of ammo,” Hawke called over. “They had limited capacity in the waterproof bags when they swam through from the main entrance.”
“Wait,” Lexi said. “Anyone hear that noise?”
Ryan said, “Sounds like a motorbike.”
“It’s no motorbike,” Hawke said. “But it is a four-stroke engine.”
“Up there!” Lea said. “There’s something in the sky.”
Hawke shielded his eyes from the bright moon with his hand and tracked across the sky to where Lea was pointing. “I don’t believe it, it’s a fucking Skyrunner.”
“Eh?” Ryan asked.
“That’s what they were getting out of the sodding trailers,” Hawke said. “And Kashala is at the controls. It must be how they planned to escape after getting the map.”
Kamala followed the black silhouette in the sky. “What in the hot hell is a Skyrunner?”
“It’s supposed to be a light-sport aircraft, you know… for dare devils.”
He looked longingly at the aircraft. It was a military-grade off-road road vehicle capable of flight with the aid of a large parawing deployed behind it.
Lea gave him a look. “All right, but not until your birthday.”
“Thanks, but I can’t wait that long. We’re just sitting ducks while Kashala’s armed to the teeth and airborne. We have to get up there!”
“You really are crazy,” Kamala said.
As she spoke, Mukendi and Crombez sprinted down the slope back toward the trucks. Up in the Skyrunner, Kashala turned in their direction and started to bear down on them.
Hawke saw time was running out. “I’m making a dash for one of the other Skyrunners before anyone else gets there.”
He made it down the slope and was approaching the Skyrunner when Dimitrov, Vizard and Lagarde emerged from the cave. Lagarde saw Hawke, drew his combat knife and charged at him as the Englishman was trying to untether one of the Skyrunners from the back of the trailer.
Hawke saw him in the reflection of the aircraft and ducked just as the merc slashed the blade at his neck. The former commando spun around, punched him in the face and knocked the knife from his hand with a sharp wrist strike.
Vizard stumbled backwards and called out for backup.
Dimitrov and the other mercs were still near the cave, and now they turned to see a fight exploding between the two hardened military men.
Hawke ran to the knife, and reached out to its handle. With his fingers just a few millimetres away he was shoulder-barged roughly to the rocky ground by Lagarde. His head struck the sloping earth and he fought to stay conscious as the merc pulled his head back and prepared to headbutt him in the face.
Then Lagarde’s head exploded in a cloud of bone fragments and a fine mist of blood. Shot through the head by a fatal shot, the Belgian mercenary tumbled off him and rolled down the slope until crashing into a boulder a dozen yards to the south.
Hawke stayed low, craning his neck and scanning the area to find the shooter. Chances were good they were on his side, but maybe it was one of Kashala’s men whose shot had been wide of the mark and the next bullet was coming his way.
Seeing Reaper with the smoking weapon he breathed a sigh of relief and yelled at him to provide cover fire. The Frenchman signaled that he understood and started dishing out some serious trouble with his submachine gun.
Hawke watched Dimitrov and the mercs dive for cover and seized the moment. He rolled down the slope toward the Skyrunner, sticking his leg out in front of him to act as a brake. Kicking up a trail of dust in his wake and ripping holes in his jeans, he reached the off-road vehicle and climbed up inside. A hail of bullets from Mukendi snaked up the side and pinged off the roll cage.
He turned the ignition and fired up the engine, ducking his head to evade another bullet as the engine turned over. He revved it and smashed his boot down on the throttle, sending the off-roader surging forward through the chaos and gun smoke.
He headed for the machinegun nest Kashala’s men were improvising near to the cave’s entrance, but changed his mind when he saw Mukendi. The Congolese merc had decided to make a break for another of the Skyrunners and was now dangerously exposed.
Spinning the wheel hard to the right, he brought the car around and headed straight for him. High velocity rounds whistled and whined and traced through the roll cage, missing him by a hair’s breadth as he swung the wheel and struggled to keep the Skyrunner level on the dangerously steep gradient.
The four-stroke twin cylinder engine growled as he raced over to Mukendi. The merc had almost reached the safety of the Skyrunner when Hawke felt his own vehicle swerve wildly out of control. Flicking his head around to the rear he saw a cloud of shredded rubber bursting out behind his Skyrunner. One of the mercs had taken out his left rear tire and now his vehicle was almost uncontrollable on the rocky slopes of Mount Ida.
All right, if you insist.
Turning to face down the slope, he floored the accelerator pedal right down to the metal and gained as much speed as he could.
“Joe!” Lea called out.
Hawke pushed a button on the dashboard and deployed the parawing. Seconds later a vast canopy of bright yellow ripstop polyester billowed out behind the Skyrunner and the entire vehicle lifted off the ground and started flying through the air. He cut the four-stroke and fired up the Rotax air engine, turning in the air as he did so.
Staggering toward his car, a panicked Dimitrov took another look at Mukendi, screamed at him to bring the situation under control and seize the map at all costs. When he piled into his car and spun around in the gravel parking lot, Mukendi set to work, padding over to the transport truck. Behind him, Demotte ran to one of the Skyrunners, determined to get into the air and join the dogfight.