Jack Du Brul - Vulcan's forge

“The fuck you will,” Mercer said, hatred giving him a reckless courage.

He dove at Kenji, slamming a shoulder into his chest. Both men flew backward, pounding into the wall hard enough to break away some of the plaster. Mercer recovered an instant before Kenji and fired three heavy punches into the older man’s muscled torso. Kenji grunted with each blow, but still had the strength to pick Mercer off his feet and toss him away. Mercer scrambled up as quickly as he could, his cracked ribs keeping him slightly doubled over.

“I thought killing Ohnishi would give me the greatest pleasure, but now I realize your death will be even better,” Kenji said menacingly as he came for Mercer.

Kenji’s kick contained every ounce of strength in his body. It was a killing blow. Mercer bent backward the instant Kenji’s foot rose, ignoring the pain that exploded in his chest with the movement. As he straightened back up, his hand reached for the Gerber knife suspended from his harness.

The steel pommel of the knife cracked against Kenji’s foot with all the strength Mercer had left. The blow shattered the delicate bones as though they were glass, checking Kenji’s attack. Mercer whipped the knife upward in a last desperate lunge. The tempered steel parted Kenji’s abdominal muscles, sliced through the tough membrane of his diaphragm, and punctured his left lung.

Kenji reeled back, yanking the knife from Mercer’s fingers. He stared down at the blade sticking from his chest with crazed and panicked eyes.

“You,” he sputtered, blood spraying with his word.

Mercer had fallen to the floor after his attack. He was too weak to rise, so when Kenji pulled the knife from his body and turned the bloody blade at him, he had no defense. The savagery was draining from Kenji as fast as his life’s blood, but he still had enough time to kill his last victim. Mercer lay sprawled like a temple sacrifice, arms at his sides, legs slightly parted. He could not avoid the blade plunging toward his chest.

The kinetic energy of the first bullet arrested Kenji’s downward thrust and nearly stood him upright. The second shot tore another hole through his chest, shredding his heart and damaged lung. The final shot blew out the back of his skull.

Mercer twisted around in time to see one of the SEALs, bloody and battered, fall to the floor. A full sixty seconds passed before Mercer recovered enough to get up and check on the wounded SEAL. When he turned him onto his back, Mercer was staggered. The man who had saved his life wasn’t a SEAL at all.

Through a mask of dried and caked blood the unknown man opened his one undamaged eye. “ Spesivo .”

The use of Russian shocked Mercer for a second, then he understood.

“Kerikov.”

“No.” The man coughed up a bloody ball of phlegm and spat it on the floor. “I am Evad Lurbud, major in the KGB, Department Seven, and Ivan Kerikov’s assistant. Thank you for allowing me to kill that pig.”

“Where is Kerikov?” Mercer demanded sharply.

“Last I knew, he was headed toward Europe. Now, who knows? You are a member of the American Special Forces, yes?”

“I’m the guy who blew your entire operation.”

Lurbud chuckled painfully. “I doubt that. No man could stop every contingency we laid down.”

“I bet your men in New York wouldn’t agree with you.”

“That was you?”

Mercer smiled modestly. “It was nothing really. But it did lead to all sorts of interesting things, little things like disguised submarines named John Dory , man-made volcanoes, and long-dead scientists who do great Lazarus impressions.”

Mercer could tell that Lurbud was truly shocked to see how much he knew.

“You guys made just enough small errors for me to figure out your little caper.” Mercer ticked of each item on a finger. “When Tish Talbot was pulled aboard the John Dory , she saw the design on her stack and heard her crew speaking Russian. Then you used an OF amp;C ship for her official rescue, which made it easy to find the connection to the Grandam Phoenix , the ship you bastards started the whole operation with. And you didn’t watch Valery Borodin closely enough, since he managed to send off the telegram that got me involved. I guess you can ultimately blame him for your failure. Without that telegram, no one would have ever suspected a thing.

“Too bad that your agents here in Hawaii turned on you. It’s wise, when picking allies, to be certain of their true motivations. Ohnishi wanted an independent country more than he wanted the volcano, and Kenji, he must have had his reasons for bringing in those Koreans.” Mercer had retrieved his weapons and now had the MP-5 pointed at Lurbud’s chest.

“You can’t kill me.”

“Why in the hell not?” Mercer replied casually.

“If I don’t radio the John Dory in an hour and a half, she will launch a nuclear missile at the volcano.”

Mercer noticed the black radio pack wedged under Lurbud’s body. He jerked it out by its nylon strap and held it at arm’s length. Letting the Hechler amp; Koch dangle by its sling, he drew the Beretta, then calmly fired two rounds through the armored plastic shell. The radio sparked and smoked for a moment as it shorted completely.

He dropped the radio next to Lurbud’s head. “Any other bargaining chips?”

“I am a major in the KGB. I am worth much to the CIA.”

“Assuming I work for the CIA must be an infectious disease. You’re the third or fourth person to think that. Too bad.” Mercer aimed his pistol. “I’m a geologist,” he said as he fired the last round from the Beretta. “Not a spy.”

Mercer wearily started back down the gallery toward the main entrance of the house. He believed Lurbud about the nuclear threat from the John Dory . If Kenji and his Korean allies had somehow double-crossed Kerikov, he had no doubt that the Russian spymaster would reap some form of revenge. Destroying the volcano and the bikinium made the best sense. The hour and a half time limit would make things extremely tight.

He was just passing the last transomed window before the living room when a figure crashed through the remaining glass and fragile mullions. Mercer dove to the side, twisting in the air to bring the MP-5 up to bear. The attacker hit the floor, rolled, and came to his knees in an instant, his gun aimed at Mercer’s head. Mercer was a fraction of a second too slow — the man had him pinned.

“I’m sorry if I scared you, Dr. Mercer, I wasn’t sure who you were from outside,” the leader of the SEALs apologized and lowered his weapon.

“Jesus,” Mercer breathed, his heart slamming against his rib cage. “I was too petrified to be scared.”

The SEAL’s uniform was so tattered it was nearly unrecognizable. A wound in his shoulder bled freely. His face was streaked with dirt and dried blood. Despite the pain he must have felt, his eyes were impassive.

“What’s the situation?” Mercer asked.

“All the guards are dead, the building is secure, but I lost my entire squad.”

“I’m sorry about that,” Mercer said, getting to his feet.

“It’s our duty, sir.”

“Radio the chopper and have the pilot land in the backyard. I’ve got some more work tonight.”

While the SEAL made the call, Mercer wandered through the dining room and into the kitchen. Ignoring the two bodies on the floor, he searched through the three large refrigerators until he found something decent to drink. Though Kirin beer was far from his favorite, he gulped two bottles in record time. A minute later he was in the backyard, skirting the edge of the pool.

Jill Tzu had left the shed when the firing had stopped and was hiding near the guest house when she saw Mercer striding across the back lawn. Behind him, the main house burned in several places, the fiery light making his features appear sharp and uncompromising.