Drake slid over to Crouch. “Ideas?”
“I don’t bloody like it, Drake! FrameHub have researched this. Acting on Intel received inside the pyramid they blew a hole in just the right spot. Now they’re planning to drag it free. This is the same alliance of nutter that just sent Egypt to the Dark Ages.”
Drake caught his drift. “You think they’re gonna set the capstone up top?” He raised his gaze to the apex of the currently flat-topped structure. “No way. Even FrameHub aren’t so stupid.”
“They’re gamers. Juvenile madmen with incredible power at their fingertips. And they’re ghosts, gods. I think they’ll do it just for the kicks.”
Drake took it all in; the hovering heavy-lift chopper, the twenty or so men attaching the chains; the way the others were pinning his people down; and then: something else.
Vladimir and Saint stood just inside the ragged hole, supervising their men. As he watched Vladimir turned to the chopper pilot and gave the sign for two minutes.
And then he gave the sign for up.
Maybe it meant something else, but Drake wasn’t taking any chances. He spun, took a deep breath, and screamed at the team.
“Forget them! We have to grab the capstone. These madmen are going to start up the machine.”
Most of the SPEAR team turned, Karin too. Luther and Molokai continued to take out hidden enemies. Pine was looking over and so was Dino.
He gestured again. “If the pyramid is the weapon, the capstone is the key. Once placed, it’ll power up. We can’t afford to let that happen!”
He surged forward, running headlong into danger. Dahl was at his heels, Kenzie too. They evaded bullets, dodged a grenade. They went through three men as if they were made of dough. Alicia joined them and then came Smyth and Hayden. They were deadly karma, angels of death.
They passed by the chopper just as it began to thunder, rotors spinning harder, rising slowly off the floor. From inside the tomb came a terrible and tremendous grating roar, the sound of age-old stone being moved, being dragged, being torn out of its resting place. The pilot poured on the power. Mercs came surging out of the hole, desperate not to get crushed. Vladimir and Saint came with them.
They ran straight into the SPEAR team.
Drake met Saint head on, not even slowing momentum as he timed a headbutt to perfection. If he’d been wrong even by a millisecond it could have ended disastrously but it ended with Saint recognizing him and receiving a shattered nose bone and cranium at almost the exact same time.
Saint fell instantly, the shortest bout in history.
“That’s how you fight.” Drake spat on the jailor and fight orchestrator. “That… is how you fight.”
Dahl rammed into Vladimir, taking the merc boss right off his feet and carrying him ten paces before using that incredible momentum to throw him into the jagged pyramid wall. Vladimir struck hard, twisted, and screamed from the pain caused to his back. He went down like a sack of spanners, inert. Dahl leapt over to ensure the job was done.
Drake fought more mercs, sending a punishing blow to stomach and then chin. But again, they chose not to engage; all running past him without acknowledgement.
“This is becoming annoying,” Alicia said. “Are we even visible?”
“Well, they’re sure feeling us.” Kinimaka wrenched his hand out of a folded merc’s stomach, moving aside as the man dropped at his feet.
Another bunch ran past. Drake fought with one and then the most horrendous screeching that he’d ever heard rang out. The chain grew taut, the chopper strained, its engine groaning. It rose by the meter. The huge chains grumbled. And then, through the hole, Drake got his first glimpse of the ancient capstone that had been formed to top the Great Pyramid.
It came through the hole, dragging blocks and showers of mortar with it, a small pyramidion in contrast to Khufu’s but looking large and deadly to Drake. It swung free, lifted by the chopper, passing close to Drake’s flying body as he dived aside. Kinimaka ducked under it, caught in its shadow for many seconds, leaving Drake with the paradoxical wish both for the chains to hold and to break — but not right now.
The capstone, still shining, still covered by white polished cladding, swung under the chopper and then began to rise faster as the pilot learned its weight and dimensions. The mercs fought hard now, their primary job done, and the SPEAR team communicated as best they could.
In battle.
The capstone rose higher. Drake looked to their last chance; the grounded choppers.
“Dahl!” he cried. “With me!”
CHAPTER FORTY THREE
Drake and Dahl, Alicia and Mai raced together for one of the black helicopters.
They passed Luther and saw him nod, acknowledging their perilous bravery and offering support. They passed Hayden and Kinimaka, the big man back to back with his oldest living friend, striking mercenaries left and right. They passed Yorgi and Crouch with guns, keeping men at bay and helping the others. They passed Smyth and Kenzie, one looking like he wanted to get this fight out of the way as soon as possible and the other wishing she had joined them.
Even took a step their way.
But Smyth needed help and she jumped back in, supporting him.
Perhaps there was a major hope for her yet.
Drake climbed into the pilot’s seat of the first helicopter; Dahl the second. As one they fired up the engines, letting the rotors turn. Alicia pointed out a stockpile of weapons in the back that the mercs hadn’t even used — RPGs, grenades and loaded guns.
Above, the giant capstone moved up the side of the huge pyramid, hefted by the big-lift chopper. Drake moved the cyclic controls so that his own bird lifted and then took off. They took to the air, chasing the capstone up the sloping wall, aiming to get alongside the big helo.
Alicia, watching as they drew closer, said, “Y’know, I’m quite excited to say this, Drake. Just put me on that big chopper.”
“Bit busy now, Alicia.”
“Oh, har har, Quick as a flash, Drakey.” She readied her gun, slamming a new mag in and pointing the barrel out the window.
“Not bothered about saving them,” Drake said. “Take the pilot out if you can.”
“On it.”
Dahl came up too, visible in Drake’s eye line, his helicopter rising up the other side of the Sikorsky. They passed the capstone and then the bulk of the bird, drifting around to the cockpit. Below, Drake could see a sandy plain of death, blood and battles to the death. Up here, it was all noise, concentration and maneuvering.
Hayden fought in the midst of it all, stopping mercs where they ran and watching Kinimaka’s back as much as he watched hers. They pivoted, spun as if on a hinge, a well-rehearsed, experienced dance. As best they could they watched out for the other members of the team.
Yorgi and Crouch stayed put, well defended, but the others moved frequently, not wanting the enemy to grow comfortable with their position. Smyth crawled along some ruins, the wall barely taller than his back, with bullets glancing off it. Occasionally he would bob up, squeeze off a few rounds and then shift to the next place. Kenzie used her speed and skill, stepping up to an enemy, wrenching his gun aside and breaking his nose with the barrel.
Hayden knew these men had lost their leaders — she’d seen what Drake and Dahl had done to Vladimir and Saint — but concluded they must have been promised some final bonus, something extra if the capstone met the top of the Khufu pyramid.
She made them pay dearly for that decision.
Kinimaka was moving slower than normal, still in pain from the bullet strikes. She sympathized but this wasn’t the time for pity. When he faltered she was there for him. When he winced in agony she took the man that was targeting him.