The Traitor's Gold, page 30
‘Look at these things.’ Roxy swept her torch beam across the relics. ‘They’re priceless, all of them. I don’t know where to look next.’
Mason nodded, standing close. It felt good; it felt like they’d done the right thing in seeking the casino out, in documenting it for the world. He turned back towards the entrance to where he had just heard a scraping noise.
Hassell stuck his head through the door. ‘Guys,’ he said. ‘We have company. They’re about two miles out, in canvas-backed trucks. At least four men that I can see and that’s just the drivers and passengers, all dressed in black, carrying weapons. They’re headed straight for us. Has to be the SED.’
‘Thirteen then,’ Luciane said.
Mason cursed. ‘We need more time.’
‘You took the words out of my mouth,’ Sally said. ‘I haven’t documented even half of the place yet.’
‘You’re not gonna get a chance,’ Hassell told her.
Sally whirled, seeking Mason. ‘Hold them off,’ she said. ‘This place is incomparable. It’s beyond imagining, a one-off. We can’t let it disappear again into Chinese history—’
Luciane interrupted her. ‘Please,’ she said. ‘The coins, the statues, the wall hangings, the…oh, everything. This mind-blowing casino. It’s fifteenth-century. It deserves a worldwide audience. This is everything I’ve been working for.’
Mason saw them turn back to their work, knew they’d be impossible to pull free. He turned back to Hassell in the doorway.
‘They’re here to kill us,’ Hassell told him.
Quaid stepped forward, a precious statue in his hands. ‘Then let’s see what we can do to modify their thinking,’ he said.
Mason knew the SED wouldn’t take any prisoners; they would bury them here in the sand. But the fact was they were here now, in the exact spot they’d been hunting for. Even if they all left at this moment, the SED would know they’d been here, would search for them unrelentingly.
‘No choice,’ he said. ‘Gear up.’
From the back of the room came Roxy’s voice. ‘I have a shovel.’
Mason shook his head and motioned Hassell out of the cave. It was time to fight for their prize.
Chapter 47
Mason, Roxy, Quaid and Hassell raced up from the depths below, using a rope that Hassell had anchored to a protruding section of brickwork. They scrambled up as quickly as they could and then dashed to the top of the nearest mound, backpacks in their hands. Mason had already pulled out his binoculars and looked through them even as he came to the top of the sandy slope.
Two trucks, in the near distance, were winding their way through the desert, trying to avoid the deeper sand and bouncing along a narrow track. The trucks were large, red and open bed with canvas stretched across the back, the large tarpaulin hiding whoever was seated there. Mason saw two passengers and two drivers, weapons held between their legs, helmets and sunglasses on. He had no doubt there were other men in the back. The trucks were coming on at a steady pace, probably so someone could read the map and follow a compass. They threw up a haze of mist in their wake.
Mason crouched low in case someone was watching. He followed the path of the trucks. ‘I have an idea,’ he said. ‘They didn’t see you, right?’
Hassell shook his head. ‘I doubt it.’
‘Good. Well, they’re coming here expecting to make an ambush,’ Mason said. ‘How about we turn the tables?’
‘Go aggressive,’ Roxy said. ‘I like it.’
‘Can you tell where they’re gonna stop?’ Quaid asked.
Mason pointed to a rough patch of ground beyond the brick walls. ‘See there? It’s an obvious place. You can see the walls from there, but there’s space to park a couple of trucks. That’s where they’ll stop.’
Mason was calling on his experience in the field and on the battlefield. The area was the natural final destination of the trucks if they kept on coming towards the walls, and Mason knew that’s exactly what they’d do. Surrounding the area were several low dunes and two tall ones, and then the series of low brick walls. Quaid, also with a military mind, agreed with him.
‘Hurry,’ Mason said. ‘We’re gonna have to run if we want to get into position in time.’
They shrugged on their backpacks and ran down the slope, sliding for most of it. Sand flew out in all directions. Mason took the lead, rushing across the firmer sand and back towards the walls. The sun shone high overhead, the slight breeze caressing their faces. They couldn’t see the trucks, but could discern the dust tail spiralling above one of the tall dunes.
They split to both sides after discussing strategy, reached the smaller dunes and tucked themselves in behind them. The trucks were so close they could hear the shifting gears, the roar of the engines. Then came the sound of their tyres crunching and rumbling across the earth. Mason ducked low as the trucks came into sight.
To his left and ahead were sand dunes. To his right, open ground towards the low brick walls. He crouched with Roxy; Quaid and Hassell were on the other side of the track.
Mason listened keenly, hunkering down, waiting, until he heard the brakes being applied. The moment he heard that, and the changing engine note, he raced out from under cover and ran towards the trucks. He stayed low, under the eyeline of the driver and passenger, Roxy at his side.
Mason went for the passenger side, Roxy the driver’s side.
Mason reached the truck before it had stopped moving, grabbed the door handle and yanked it open. The man sitting above looked down with a shocked expression on his face, just as Roxy threw open the other door. Mason reached up, grabbed the man’s wrist and pulled him out of the cab onto the ground below. The man sprawled, too shocked to scream, his gun clattering. He hit the ground face first, sprawling. The truck was still moving, now under its own momentum, as Roxy removed the driver, but coasted inexorably to a stop.
Beside it, as agreed, Quaid and Hassell had copied them with the other truck. Speed was of the essence. They had to incapacitate their opponents before the trucks stopped properly and the men in the back jumped out.
Mason likened it to shock and awe. He didn’t pull any punches, stamping on his opponent’s spine and then the back of his neck. The guy struggled, but weakly. Mason bent down, scooped up the gun and smashed him over the back of the head with it. They couldn’t open fire…yet. He relieved the man of a handgun, magazines and a knife, shoving them all into his backpack and waistband.
Seconds after attacking the truck, he was ready to move.
On the driver’s side, Roxy knelt astride her opponent before rendering him unconscious with several blows to the temple. Mason saw her stand up. He ran to the front of the truck, glancing over at Hassell and Quaid.
This was where their entire plan could go to hell. Quaid and Hassell weren’t as clinical and highly trained as he and Roxy. He slowed, at the same time ready to act. At the other truck, he saw Quaid beating down with the butt of a rifle, heard the meaty crack of it striking a skull, and then saw Hassell struggling upright with his own enemy. Mason was about to act when Hassell kneed the man in the groin, then struck him under the chin, making him stagger back against the truck. Even that might alert the men in the back, who would be jumping down at any moment. Mason aimed his gun, ready. Hassell slammed his own weapon across his opponent’s temple, stunning him, driving him to his knees.
No time to wait.
‘Run!’ Mason said.
Already, he could hear crunching as the men in the flat bed jumped down to the ground.
Mason whirled and ran for the low brick walls. Roxy was at his side, Quaid and Hassell just a few metres back. As they ran, leaving the trucks behind but still twenty yards away from the walls, crossing a veritable no-man’s-land, the first shots rang out. Bullets stitched a path between them, gouging into the sand.
Mason zigzagged, presenting a hard target. Their plan hadn’t quite worked, but it had gained them weapons. Another barrage of shots rang out. Now there was shouting, sounds of confusion. Mason and his team were lucky; their enemy was in disarray, possibly even searching for more attackers.
Mason reached the first wall, dived behind it, landed on sand and got a face full. Roxy rolled across his legs in her haste, sand folding all around her. From the other side, Hassell and Quaid appeared, diving headlong just as a volley of bullets ripped the air where they had been.
Mason crouched low, let a few seconds pass, then he was up, positioning his gun on the top of the wall, squinting through the sights and opening fire. The enemy – he counted over a dozen of them – were milling around or running between the two trucks, rushing to help the fallen men or listening to the angry shouts of their boss. Mason lined them up.
Bullets flew among them. One man screamed and twisted, throwing his gun into the air as blood fountained from his throat. This was now kill or be killed, and they weren’t in the city anymore. Mason saw another of his rounds hit a man in what could only be a bulletproof vest, sending him staggering backwards and then to the ground.
Roxy, Hassell and Quaid added their own weapons to the mix, scattering the soldiers.
Bullets zinged off the trucks. One hit a large tyre, puncturing it. The SED didn’t just take fire; they returned it in kind, leaning out of cover blindly and shooting on automatic. Mason ducked down as a blast of gunfire peppered the wall he was hiding behind, ancient bricks sheared by hot lead.
Sand mushroomed into the air as bullets struck. The brick wall shuddered. Mason stayed low, crawled away and found the next wall. The others did the same. When the SED men ventured out, showing their faces, Mason and the others were in different positions.
The shift in location paid dividends. The soldiers concentrated their gunfire on the wall. Mason popped up and opened fire, striking two of them in the head. One man fell back against the truck, leaving an ugly red smear; the other just collapsed in a heap, dead before he knew it.
By Mason’s count, that left ten, including the leader.
He ducked again. Bullets tracked him, striking the wall in front of his head. Roxy collapsed near him, but that was just her throwing herself down, getting a mouthful of sand which she proceeded to spit out. It was heaped all along the wall where it had drifted. On the other side, Quaid and Hassell were knee deep in it.
Mason whirled and started crawling again. This time he found an eastern running wall, dissecting their position, and followed it to come up in a different location again. He didn’t surface until he’d stopped crawling, but then rose with his gun in hand and fired until the magazine ran dry.
Quickly, he swopped it for another.
Hassell and Quaid ran and leapt over the wall he’d just crawled to. Bullets chased them, barely missing. Mason shook his head and yelled angrily. It was a stupid decision and had almost taken their lives.
Mason fired again. The SED were still using their trucks as cover. Bullet holes were everywhere. Mason could see several legs beneath the truck and swept his bullets at them, striking at least one man, who started howling.
Focused as they were, they didn’t see the two SED men flanking them.
Mason ran back behind another wall, fired three times, and then found another shelter. He didn’t stop moving for more than a few minutes, keeping the enemy guessing. He changed mags on the fly, yelling at Roxy for cover, then watching her back as she followed suit. They moved as a team, working for each other and always gaining that shelter together.
Mason moved and fired, moved and fired. That way, he picked off another SED fighter, which now left nine. He could see them communicating through earbuds, reaching into the backs of the trucks for more ammo, sheltering, and then jumping up into one truck. He didn’t like the look of that.
Further, he thought. They had to retreat further.
From his left, a shadowy figure appeared. It was far closer than he could have imagined, a shadow blotting out the light. It was above him, flying, and it held a knife.
Mason folded, collapsing under the figure and then spinning in the sand. The SED attacker hit the soft sand hard and then whirled, shooting up several flurries. Mason did the same, kicking out with his feet, catching the guy a glancing blow across the wrist. They were like snakes in the sand, striking, parrying, leaping.
Mason rose, brought his gun around, then ducked as a volley of bullets smashed into the wall that barely covered him. The SED man launched an attack, catching Mason around the waist, striking at him with the knife. Mason got a hand up, parried the weapon and fell back against the wall that was protecting him.
He knew that, from the other side, a similar figure had attacked Hassell.
Mason squirmed and kicked. He threw sand in his opponent’s face, rammed the guy’s head against the brick wall, saw part of it crumble away and then bullets chip the edges. The SED fighter had to fling himself headlong to avoid shots from his own men.
Mason took advantage of that. He swivelled the gun in his hands, realised it was too big and clunky to use at close range, and then reached for the handgun on his waist. It wasn’t there! Mason cast around, saw the weapon lying half-hidden under sand some way off to the right. He dived for it, scooped it up and lined the man’s head up.
He fired.
The soldier’s head exploded all over the wall.
Mason felt calm flooding his veins. There was no panic here, no raised blood pressure. He had always been an outstanding soldier, and part of the reason was his ability to remain calm in the heat of battle. He thought succinctly, acted without anxiety. He did that now, returning coolly to pick up his rifle as he tucked the handgun away, picking it up and sighting it on Hassell’s attacker. When the time was right, Mason pulled the trigger, taking away half the man’s head.
Hassell sat up, breathing heavily, covered in blood. He gave Mason a thumbs-up sign.
Roxy and Quaid were at the wall, ducking down, coming up to fire. Bullets peppered the surrounding brick, but they kept their enemy pinned down.
Seven left, Mason knew.
He was in his element, fighting, retreating, fighting again, moving position. He swopped in another mag, saw that he didn’t have all that many left, then changed tactics. Now he would wait for targets instead of haphazardly pinning his enemy down. He yelled out for the others to follow suit. Hassell yelled back that he was already using his last mag.
Mason took stock. He hastened once more, using a dissecting wall that ran south-east. He laid low, waiting. For a moment, there was a lull in the battle.
And then they came, the remaining seven mercenaries racing for the first wall that Mason had hidden behind. They were now employing a similar tactic. This was how they would wear Mason’s team down.
And Mason knew it would work.
Chapter 48
The SED soldiers made a war of attrition, wearing down their enemy. They raced for the first wall, fired over it, then raced for the next, drawing fire, always hidden, close to death but somehow escaping it. Mason stayed where he was for a while, knowing the enemy was on the move and not wanting to lose sight of them. He kept waiting for the perfect target; it never came. The Shadow Kings’ mercenaries ran from wall to wall, crawling through the sand in between, the constant flurries giving their positions away.
One time, Roxy tracked a merc by following his sand flurries, knew exactly where he would pop up, and waited. When the man’s head appeared over the parapet, Roxy blew it away, leaving a spurting set of shoulders and then a collapsing body.
Bullets chipped away at the brick walls. Gunfire resounded around the desert, sometimes clamouring back off the high, wavelike dune walls. Mason felt like a heap of sand – the stuff was everywhere, all over him. He checked his weapon, his remaining bullets, remaining magazines, keeping a running count.
Roxy crawled up to him, elbows working double time. ‘What’s the plan, Joe?’
He shrugged. ‘This is the plan.’ But he felt responsible for them. He couldn’t just let something happen; he had to force it. They were all under his protection – not just Roxy, Quaid and Hassell, but Sally and Luciane back in the casino too.
‘We change tack,’ he said.
‘In what way?’
‘Simple,’ he said. ‘We attack.’
With that said, he signalled Quaid and Hassell, passing on his intentions. Roxy was looking at him as if he were mad, hesitating, but then nodded.
‘If you think it’ll work.’
He felt gratitude rush through him. Roxy was her own fearsome fighter with a toolbox of experience and tactics. To hear and see her giving him the lead was gratifying, and it shored up his confidence in his ability to lead.
‘Move then,’ he said.
They crawled in another direction, around the edge of a wall, back towards the trucks. They all stayed low, flicking up very little sand. They took up an attacking position and waited for the mercenaries to make their move.
Which they did.
Seconds later, three fighters rose, firing. Mason waited three seconds, then sprang up, surprising them. His own bullet took out one man, Roxy’s another. The third man ducked down before he was hit. Mason coolly leapt over the nearest wall, closing the gap to the SED. His team instantly followed suit.
The Shadow Kings’ soldiers rose again. This time, Mason was upon them, crouching behind the same wall. He grabbed a gun, forced it up in the air, heard and felt it discharge. Roxy was at his side, grabbing for another weapon. Mason levered himself upright, forced the gun away and jumped over the wall on top of the SED fighter.
