“God, Yorgi. How long have you been in here?”
A heavy silence followed. Then Yorgi sniffed. “I don’t know.”
Drake abruptly closed his mouth, the words he was about to speak lost forever, as they heard voices below. Two men conversing equably in Russian. Drake listened until they went away and then stretched his aching joints.
“Yorgi. If you can, I’d like to hear about the swords.”
“I know a little. Razin is looking for the seven Swords of Babylon in the old ruins. Once he finds them they will make him leader of the world, or something.” Yorgi laughed quietly. “He’s a nutcase. But he’s our nutcase.”
“Where did he come across this information?”
“Well, I suppose it must be from that professor guy. The one he abducted.”
“Abducted?”
“Story goes that one of Razin’s lieutenants, Maxim I think, got the call that some American professor was digging around the old site of ancient Babylon and asking some very leading questions. He would go into the bigger towns and cities and talk about Alexander the Great and his golden swords, about some powerful towers, and ramble on about earth energy. He was looking for any information he could get. Now anyone who knows about Alexander also knows there’s a great deal yet to find relating to him, including his body, his tomb. Anything relating to him could be worth a fortune. So when the Russians got wind of the professor’s investigations, they nabbed him.”
Drake whistled. “He stood out further than Posh Spice’s ribs. And he’s American?”
“They say.”
“Do you know where they’re keeping him?”
Yorgi stayed quiet. Drake sensed a trade coming on. “Yorgi?”
“Why are you so interested? I have heard a little more, yes. But I do not want to spend the rest of my life rotting away in this place.”
“You have my word, matey. If I escape, I’ll take you with me.”
“Okay. I heard them complaining that they have to escort him daily through Red Square. So it must be close by. I will try to trade for more information.”
“Good. But be careful—” Drake managed to stop himself by gritting his teeth hard. Why the hell was he telling a Russian thief to be careful in prison? Old habits die hard, he thought. Even in this hellhole.
“I will. I do have plenty to trade.” Yorgi laughed. “But you have to go back now. If you’re quiet you’ll make it back to your cell. It’s after lockdown. Tomorrow—” Yorgi shrugged. “I may not be able to help you.”
Drake frowned. “Won’t they have missed me at roll call?”
Yorgi grinned. “You really think they care about that kind of thing in this prison?”
Drake shrugged and looked around. “I can’t stay here?”
“Razin would tear this place apart looking for you. There are more men than me who use this rat hole as a haven. And at least some of them are worth saving.” Yorgi sighed heavily. “I am sorry. You must go.”
Drake nodded. “I think we’ll need another day, Yorgi. But be ready. Be ready when it all kicks off.”
“How will I know?”
“Oh. You’ll certainly know when my friends arrive.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Mai held on tight as Dahl swung the minivan around a final corner and powered hard toward the battered gates that fronted the Russian timber yard.
“Bastards!” he cried as he burst through, hyped up to the max, as they all were at the thought of one of their friends being held behind enemy lines. There would be no respite, no quarter given, until Drake was safe.
The gates smashed apart, crashing against the side walls of the building and buckling. These were most likely the same gates that Drake and Romero had breached, bent and damaged even before Dahl sent them to a rusty heaven.
The minivan screeched to a halt in the middle of the yard. Dusk was setting behind the high overladen timber racks, but there was still enough light for the strike team to see their way. A cabin stood in front of them, spilling bright light, the only door at the top of a set of concrete steps. Dahl raced ahead, gun held high. Even Mai and Alicia had to hurry to keep up with him.
The door was flung open. Dahl didn’t hesitate. He shot the man who stepped through in the stomach and waited a moment as he tumbled down the steps and hit the yard, face first. His groans of agony told them he was out of the fight, but still useful for torturing information out of. Dahl stepped over him, Mai now at his back. She had experienced no after-effects from the tasing, at least not physically. The actual knowledge of being beaten and losing Drake had hurt far more than any electrical charge or bullet.
“Move, little sprite!” Alicia said, at her back. “Stop dawdling!”
Around the corner of the cabin came the sound of gunfire. Hayden and Kinimaka stayed to take care of that, whilst Mai sped after Dahl. The Swede had cleared the counter in a single bound, wounded the man crouched beneath it, and was advancing on the main cabin. He slowed at the arched entrance. A bullet crashed into the big frame.
Mai planted herself against the wall opposite him. They counted to three, then peered through the doorway, firing twice, once to confuse and once to kill, at the same time evaluating their enemy and the room.
Alicia crouched beside them. “How we looking?”
“Two at my side, both under cover,” Dahl said.
“Two at mine. Exposed,” Mai whispered.
They counted to three again and fired. Dahl cursed, “Still two.”
Mai turned back, smiling. “One left.”
“Damn, we aren’t playing that bloody game again are we?”
“Not if you can’t keep up, Torsten.”
Mai fired blindly around the corner. The sound of a man groaning, and the crash as he toppled to the floor brought another tight smile to her face. “That’ll be zero.”
Dahl sniffed. “Well, mine are hidden behind desks.”
A man suddenly appeared behind them, coming through an inner side door that had to lead to a storeroom or toilet. Alicia swiveled her aim with godlike reflexes, spraying his knees and double-tapping the top of his head as he hit the deck.
“Ah, bollocks to this,” Dahl said, and let the gun rip on full auto as he stepped around the frame. Mai backed him up, springing to the opposite side of the main cabin in one bound and presenting a different deadly target. Bullets slammed into the desks, ripping splinters away from their edges. Timber, plastic and hot lead exploded across the rear of the cabin in a devastating mushroom cloud. One man screamed as shards of wood speared his face. Another had his head so close to the floor his ass was visible over the top of the table. Mai winged it, just once.
Dahl ran forward, staying low, and kicked the table aside. At that moment another man popped up from the office beyond, but Mai took him out like a tin duck at a shooting gallery. His body flew back against the cabin’s rear window, shaking the whole structure.
Alicia stepped in, closely followed by Hayden and Kinimaka. “All good?”
Mai nodded. “We should interrogate them separately. Make sure they’re telling us the truth.”
Alicia produced a steel hammer. “On it.” She crouched beside the nearest fallen Russian, brandishing the weapon.
“What’s your name?”
“V… Vladimir.” His eyes were wide with fear, hands creeping automatically to his scalp.
Alicia eyed him closely. “You been hit by one of these before, Vlad?”
Mai watched as the man shuddered. She vaguely remembered the name Vladimir from Drake’s report. Wasn’t he the one running around with a hammer sticking out of his head? She left Alicia to her work and walked to the back of the cabin, finding the Russian she had winged in the ass.