“Tonight?” Drake mumbled, face pointed at his toes.
“Watch your back,” Yorgi whispered. “Something will happen. Watch the guards. When they move away, get ready.”
Shit. Drake had been right. The prisoners did have something planned. He quickly made another reconnoiter of the area, identifying possible weapons, areas to fall back to, certain inmates who held themselves in the way that said they were actually dangerous rather than just muscle-bound and deranged.
The sun rose higher. The football game ended. Some of the men sneered at Drake and challenged him by raising fists and grinning. Drake saw the chance of a little payback.
“You want me to play? Well I—”
A guard vanished from his field of vision, slipping back indoors. Another stepped down from a watchtower. The balcony guards turned away and vanished through an unseen door. Total silence descended over the exercise yard.
A half-naked figure walked out through the door, into the light. Drake turned to study him and breathed, “For fuck’s sake.”
Zanko.
CHAPTER TEN
Kinimaka watched as Dahl paced impatiently.
“Are they ready yet, Hayden? We can’t wait all bloody day.”
Hayden cupped the receiver. “I’m talking to them now. Gates already made the call. It shouldn’t be long.”
Alicia came up to Kinimaka. “What’s the deal, big boy? Karin set up that new HQ yet? Ready to watch our backs.”
Kinimaka nodded. “She’s almost there. The only thing they’ve had time to do is set up the comms and the total surveillance systems. Very high-tech.”
“Don’t give a fuck. So long as it helps get us an escape route, it can be Captain Jack’s spyglass for all I care.”
“You’ve watched Pirates of the Caribbean?”
Alicia gave him a saucy wink. “The first ten minutes. Then the middle ten. Then the last ten. Besides, ain’t no movie gets by me starring the Deppster.” Alicia moaned. “Should call him Johnny Viagra.”
Kinimaka choked. “That’s more than I need to know. Jeez.”
“True. But I never disappoint, Mano. You should know that by now.
Kinimaka thought over the heart-to-heart they’d had, what seemed an age ago now. Back in that hotel in Vienna, the night before they had charged the terrorist battlefield like the veritable Light Brigade. Alicia had revealed a part of her past, a tragic part, and secured a place in his heart forever.
“Of course I know, Alicia. You can say anything you want to me.”
“Well, I did want to check something with a real man.” Alicia leaned in close. “Y’see, Lomas has this problem down below. He keeps on—”
“No!” Kinimaka yelped and danced away. Alicia laughed. Mai had to physically grab hold of Dahl’s shoulders to stop the man’s frantic pacing.
Hayden replaced the receiver and turned to them. “We’ve been allocated a chopper from a local base. Plus ammo. But they’re not risking any men. We’re on our own.”
Dahl headed straight for the door. “Not a fucking problem.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Drake sensed rather than saw the crowd of inmates melt away. His full focus latched firmly on the man-mountain stalking toward him. Zanko flexed enormous chest muscles as he walked, pecs beating away like a base drum. The hands, spread wide, made him think of Mai’s relatively small hands when she placed them in his.
And Mai could probably kick his arse to hell and back.
Drake moved sideways, aiming to give himself space, placing the gym and its well-used equipment at his back. Zanko increased his pace.
“Now we tangle, little man. Let’s see if the famous Matt Drake is made of the same shit as the rest of them.”
Drake slipped away as the great, growling bear reached for him. A light drizzle began to fall across the exercise yard as the clouds obscured the sun. Zanko lunged. Drake ducked and stepped in before delivering a stinging blow to the giant’s ribs and then his kidneys. The Yorkshireman ducked under another wild, swinging blow, came back around to Zanko’s front, and delivered a push-kick to the chest with all the strength he could muster.
The Russian coughed and shrugged, but didn’t waver. “My grandmother can hit harder than that! And I really do mean it. Come on, fight me!”
Drake lunged, struck, then danced away. Zanko took another blow to the ribs, grinning. He mimicked Drake’s movements stride for stride, slowly pushing him back. Drake caught a flicker in Zanko’s eyes and suddenly realized—
The other inmates had formed a cordon at his back. Half a dozen more steps and he would be close enough for them to fling him straight into Zanko’s arms! He skipped quickly among the gym equipment, lifting a small set of dumbbells and pacing warily behind a heavy lifting frame. There was only one way this fight was going to end.
Zanko roared and charged, stopping only to heft the big frame and fling it to the side. Drake slammed the dumbbells against the side of his head, arm vibrating with the impact. Zanko staggered and went down on one knee. Drake brought the dumbbells down again, this time aiming for the Russian’s exposed skull.
Zanko tore his legs away with an arm sweep. Drake suddenly saw sky and landed flat on his back, the air rushing out of his lungs. He held on to the dumbbells, legs already scrambling to get away. But Zanko landed on his lower body like a beached whale, sending jolts of agony shooting around Drake’s nerve clusters. Quickly, he brought the dumbbells overhead, using every ounce of strength to heave them at Zanko’s head.
The Russian threw up a massive forearm, blocking the blow. But even he grunted in pain when they hit. Drake withdrew the dumbbells and tried to move. Zanko righted himself and sat on Drake’s legs, practically crushing his knees. With his right arm, Zanko blocked Drake’s next blow and ripped the dumbbells from his hand, then threw them away so they landed hard against a far wall.
Zanko leaned forward, head the size of a rhinoceros suddenly blocking all the light. “It seems you lost.”
Drake struggled, twisting beneath the immense weight. With a speed that surprised Zanko he sat up, striking his forehead against the bridge of the Russian’s nose, then struck with both elbows, twisting his torso each time to deliver a more brutal blow. Zanko grunted again and appeared to flinch. Blood streamed from his nose and over his lips. Drake heard the inmates’ collective gasp.
The hammer blow came out of nowhere, stunning Drake, causing so much instant pain his whole body froze upright for a second as it tried to process. Stars exploded in his brain. Clouds obscured his vision.
Zanko had smashed a fist into his stomach. Drake found himself holding on to the Russian’s shoulders as he gasped for air, even the barest slither of breath eluding him.
Zanko laughed, blood spattering everywhere. Drake wheezed in his face, still unable to breathe. Zanko jumped up, then hefted Drake above his shoulders, holding him like a powerlifter grips a barbell.
Drake wheezed in an ounce of breath, stomach convulsing, then hit the ground hard as Zanko threw him across the yard. Still conscious enough to tuck and roll, Drake lay still for a few precious seconds as Zanko stalked up to him. He thought about using the shank in his sock, but decided that might put the fight on a whole new level. Zanko moved in closer.
“Time to—”
Drake came up groggy, but with an aim born of experience. His left fist swung hard into Zanko’s groin.
“Dahhhhhhh!”
Zanko doubled over, hands clasping, eyes bulging. “Not… fair,” he managed to gasp.