“Shit. We’ll keep video games behind a childproof lock then.”
Drake tackled a barrel like an American footballer, hitting hard, forcing it back and then over… right on top of the man sheltering behind it. The rim of the barrel struck just above the man’s eyes, leaving him bloody and unconscious. Drake sprawled atop him.
In full view of the second merc’s raised rifle.
Trent vaulted his own barrel, both feet connecting heavily with the merc’s skull. His shot, a reaction, went wild as his body slumped to the ground.
Drake spun, intent on the others. Alicia was still circling Dudley, a bruise on her cheek revealing that he’d made it past her defenses at least once. The arrival of more mercs took Drake’s attention.
Alicia had had enough of letting Dudley take the lead. It wasn’t her way. She’d already purposely given him a way through her defenses. When he tried a second time she was ready, feinting at the last moment and ducking in.
Up close.
She delivered a flurry of punches. Ribs, solar plexus and gut. The Irishman’s muscles absorbed the worst of it, but Alicia was no soft touch and she drove him back. Suddenly his onslaught was forgotten as he tried to cover up.
Alicia used her feet. A strike to the knee made Dudley stagger. As he went down Alicia stepped in, only to walk straight onto a powerful rising uppercut. If the blow had connected under her chin it would have been lights out at the very least. As it was, the blow smashed into her sternum and clipped her chin, making her bend double and then fall to one knee.
She couldn’t remember ever being hit so hard.
Dudley danced away, skipping his feet from side to side. “Ah, yeah! Gotcha! Yer won’t beat ole Callan Dudley in a bout o’ boxin’, little love. Champ o’ the Irish underground I was, and then some. Now let’s put yer on yer back.”
He kicked out, aiming for her face. Alicia rolled backwards, coming up on her feet and trying to mask her pain. Dudley wasted another minute of his advantage rapping at her and then advanced again in a boxer’s stance. Alicia saw she was going to have to break this bastard out of his comfort zone.
Drake finished the mercs off with a low grenade, ducking as explosive debris saturated the air. Trent caught a loner by the neck and fought hard for a few moments before the man collapsed. Mai caught the attention of two more.
Their decision to take her on directly proved to be a bad one.
Drake paused at the side of one of the lengthy tables. A computer screen flickered alongside him. Comms chatter had been crackling along quite efficiently throughout the battle. He already knew that Crouch and team were engaged above Niagara Falls and Hayden’s team were involved in a road-warrior battle with three Jags.
Dudley’s voice brought him back to the moment. “Stand still while I hit ya. Yer like a feckin’ meerkat popping up and down like that!”
Alicia jabbed at his throat, shutting him up. Drake moved toward her from her left, Dahl from her right, but the Englishwoman stepped back and held up a hand.
“No,” she said. “Sometimes you just gotta fight crazy with crazy. This one’s mine.”
Drake didn’t like it, but knew better than to ignore her. Dahl pulled up too, but kept his gun handy.
Alicia took a blow to the forehead, feinted right and again dived in. Dudley was a pure boxer, he didn’t like his legs messed with. Alicia kicked his knees, his thighs and then clasped him tight, bringing a knee up to the groin. When his eyes bulged she pushed him away, hard.
Dudley gasped. Alicia leaped in again, nose to nose, chest to chest. “A hit to the plums and you’re suddenly a jelly? Pathetic!”
She repeated the move. Dudley caught his breath without making more than a brief shriek, threw another cross-jab at her, but the attempt was unfocused, weak. Alicia stepped in once more.
Dudley rose, all power and lethal ability, again faking the hurt in an effort to draw his quarry in.
Alicia saw the about-turn too late, saw it in his eyes a moment after she was totally committed. This is it then, she thought. The killing blow. Dudley had engineered this opening by sacrificing his nuts and would be putting all of his homicidal strength into this move.
But only as Alicia had anticipated. Yes it was risky, but she wagered that an Irish brawler of Dudley’s obvious prowess wouldn’t balk too much at a blow to the gonads. Probably even enjoyed it. So she faked it, faked the final step in so he would at last show his hand.
And Dudley did. He swung upward and with every ounce of strength, missing Alicia by a whisker and exposing his entire body below the chin.
Alicia had been trained to take a man out with a single blow. Now, with every inch of Dudley unprotected she delivered more than half a dozen to his vital areas. The sack of meat that hit the ground a moment later was fully incapacitated, unable even to crawl.
Drake leaped over with a set of plastic ties.
“Aw.” Alicia tried not to show her pain. “My trusty, obedient bunny.”
Dahl approached, one hand touching the comms set fastened to his ear. “About bloody time!” he shouted. “Hurry it up. We have a lead on the Pythians’ HQ!”
“And the antidote?” Mai asked.
“They’re fighting for it,” Trent replied, stern face looking worried. “They’re sure fighting for it.”
CHAPTER FORTY TWO
Crouch swerved their ‘copter into the path of an oncoming enemy machine at the last minute, preventing a broadside gun battle, and making them pull up swiftly. This caused one man to fall, plunging straight down into the turbulent, frigid waters below. Crouch came around in a wide, ascending circle, finishing on the tail of his would-be assailant. Healey leaned out and fired a volley, young face set rigid with concentration.
Crouch noticed Caitlyn watching him with fear and was reminded that the two were trying to set up a date.
“Don’t worry. He’ll be fine.”
“God I hope so. He’s too young and virile to end up as fish-food down there.”
The comms crackled. Alicia’s voice, predictably dry. “And that arse is so terrific and instantly slappable…”
Caitlyn blushed, having forgotten about the comms in the heat of battle. “I guess you’re never going to let me forget that one. We’re gonna have to find a way to mask personal observations,” she commented. “Maybe keywords or something.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” Alicia laughed.
Crouch finessed his machine in the other’s wake, allowing Healey to fire off a well-directed volley. The tail rotor of the other shredded after a moment and the craft swerved hard and fell away, searching desperately for a place to land. Crouch saw it crash nose-first into the cliff wall underneath one of the observation decks, plumes of fire rolling up toward the guard rails.
“Get out of the goddamn way,” he muttered as people leaped safely to all sides.
“Three down,” Caitlyn observed. “One to go.”
Crouch nodded. Russo’s bird was tracking the final mercenary ‘copter high above, following the curve of the falls around the Horseshoe bend and all the way to the American side. An arch bridge spanned the river there, called the Rainbow Bridge, which separated the Canadian side from the American side, tall and gray, eye-catching. Crouch saw the final chopper heading toward it.
A plethora of worries invaded his heart. Everything from a rocket attack against the bridge to a landing in one of the many featureless parking lots. Quickly he hauled on the collective and gave chase from below as Russo pursued from above. The last chopper swooped low and shot through the great arch of the Rainbow Bridge, closely followed by Russo and Crouch, pushing for even more speed. Shots were fired from the fleeing machine but seemed rather half-hearted now.