He put his hand in the case and pulled out the other fragment of the Axe of Baldr. It was without a doubt the other half of the one Ryan had in the bag slung over his shoulder.
“Just let the woman go and we’ll talk,” Hawke said.
“I know who you are — Hawke and Donovan… When you’re dead I will shit on your graves,” Deprez hissed.
“Shit on your graves!” repeated the goon holding the knife.
Dasha laughed and blew another bubble with the gum in her mouth.
“Language, please!” Scarlet said, feigning disgust. “There are ladies present, not to mention Ryan.”
“I’m standing right here and still she says it,” Ryan said, deflated.
Deprez focussed on Hawke. “Drop your weapons.”
Hawke and the others did as they were told. He crouched slowly and put his gun on the floor before standing back up with his hands raised in the air. The next thing he knew, the goon was staggering back from the woman with a knife in his neck. Hawke turned and saw Scarlet had thrown the knife she kept on her belt.
Deprez and Dasha had the axe and turned on their heels and ran while the hostage screamed and scampered away. Lea and Vincent took off after them while Hawke stormed forward and drove a tightly clenched fist into the wounded goon’s stomach.
The man wheezed hard and doubled over, giving Hawke time to bring up his knee and grab the back of the man’s head at the same time. Driving his knee up and pulling his head down simultaneously, he tested the hypothesis about immovable objects and unstoppable forces. The conclusion came in the form of a severe crunching sound as his nose splattered all over his face and showered Hawke’s knee in a thick coating of blood.
Hawke pulled the man’s head back up by the ears and slammed his fist into his broken face, once again hitting the nose. The goon howled in pain as he stumbled back a few steps, but Hawke had finished playing and after propelling a well-aimed kick into the Belgian thug’s groin he ended the game with another savage roundhouse punch to his lower jaw. He sent him flying back into one of the display cases where he landed with smack and slid to the floor unconscious in a shower of broken glass and antique pottery.
Hawke watched with amusement as the dust settled and an old Viking chamber pot slid onto his head.
“That’ll teach him to be a potty mouth,” Scarlet said, pulling her knife from his neck and wiping it clean on his shoulder.
Hawke ignored it, and reloaded his gun. Further down the exhibition room Vincent and Deprez were out of sight but Lea was fighting with Dasha.
Hawke, Scarlet and Ryan ran towards her with a confused Victoria a step behind, but it turned out there was no need for the heroics. Before they got anywhere near the fight, Lea had snatched up one of the many fine examples of Dane Axes and incapacitated the Russian woman with it, swinging the light, carbon steel blade in a sweeping arc at her stomach.
Dasha Vetrov leaped back to avoid being cut in half, giving Lea time to bring the other end of the heavy oak haft across into her face at speed, breaking her jaw and knocking her out. She collapsed on the floor in a heap and Lea leaned casually on the axe’s long, wooden handle. “And you stay there too, ya grubby little pox!”
Hawke arched an eyebrow as he stared at the unconscious woman. “I see she didn’t make the cut.”
Lea rolled her eyes. “Is that the best you can some up with?”
“Well, axe a silly question and…”
“Just stop it. Right. Now.”
“Gotcha — come on, it’s time to split.”
“I mean it, Joe. You’re just not funny. We’ve been through this before.”
“Just because she couldn’t handle your charms, don’t take it out on me.”
“Cut it out,” she said with a sideways glance.
“Sorry — ah! Now you see the fun we can have, at last!”
Their banter was cut short by the sound of gunfire in the next room, and they ran forward to find Vincent Reno bleeding out on the floor. Deprez had shot him and he was down.
Victoria screamed and covered her mouth in shock.
“Jesus!” Scarlet said, kneeling beside the Frenchman. “We need an ambulance!”
Lea pulled out her phone and it was then Hawke saw Deprez, lurking at the rear of the room beside the fire exit. He could easily have exploited the disarray to escape but instead he raised his gun and aimed at a disoriented Victoria.
Before Hawke could even call out, Deprez fired the weapon.
Ryan, who was closest to Victoria reacted in a heartbeat, spinning around and pushing her out of the way. She hit the floor hard but Ryan got hit harder — the bullet smashed into his upper arm and spun him around like a Matryoshka doll.
“No!” Lea cried, running forward to help her former husband, but before she could take another step Deprez laughed and sprayed the room with more submachine gun fire. Most of the rounds drilled into the far wall but at least one must have struck the fire extinguisher attached to the wall beside the other exit.
The bullet tore through the stainless steel casing of the extinguisher and as the cylinder depressurized it dispersed its contents with startling rapidity through the bullet hole. A thick jet of nitrogen and potassium bicarbonate instantly filled the small space and brought further pandemonium to the scene of the double shooting.
Before the room was lost in the fog, Hawke saw Ryan collapse to the floor and grip his upper arm in agony. He charged across the room and grabbed Ryan by his ankles, hauling him backwards along the floor until they were in the clearer air of the main room.
“He’s been shot,” he shouted at Victoria. “Do what you can.”
Hawke looked up into the chaos and watched with a sense of desperate anger and frustration as Deprez snatched up the axe handle and sprinted from the room, a morbid smile on his face.
Hawke thought fast. “Lea — Vincent and Ryan need tourniquets right now, so do that and wait here until the paramedics arrive. Scarlet and I are going to get that bloody axe handle back!”
Scarlet cocked her weapon. “Finally, Hawke asks me on a date!”
Hawke gave her a weary glance but there was no time for talk. Without another word the two of them took off after Marcus Deprez and the other half of the broken axe handle.
With the lives of Ryan Bale and Vincent Reno hanging in the balance, Hawke was very clear in his mind about what had to happen next.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
By the time they hit the fire exits the day had turned nasty. Black clouds were moving at some speed across the city, so low they almost scraped the tops of some of the higher buildings, and they were dumping a heavy, cold rain over everything.
Hawke and Scarlet scanned the road for any signs of Deprez but for a few seconds all they saw was empty, parked cars and lots of rain. Then, Scarlet saw him. “Over there in the Saab!”
Hawke followed her hand. She was pointing to an old, sky blue Saab 900 into which a soaked Marcus Deprez was climbing with great agility. The engine roared to life and its headlights illuminated the rain streaking in front of the car. Seconds later the Belgian serial killer was spinning the wheel around and driving the car out onto the road.
“Quick!” Hawke shouted.
“To the Batmobile!” Scarlet yelled.
Hawke gave her a look of disapproval and opened the locks of the Hilux with the car remote. Cairo Sloane took gallows humor to new heights — it was just how she handled the tough stuff. She’d never told him about her younger days, but he guessed that was where it all came from. Either way, now was hardly the time to ask her.
They climbed inside the truck and seconds later they were strapped in and ready to go. Hawke fired up the powerful 3.4 litre V6 and with the help of the power steering, he moved the heavy vehicle out of the parking space with ease and speed and they were soon on their way.