David Leadbeater: Weapons of the Gods

“The team’s resident scaredy cat,” Mai told Luther and Molokai in the back of the transit van. “I once saw her jump into a pit to escape a spider.”

“In my defense,” Alicia said, still observing, “it had legs the size of my arms.”

Hayden’s voice crackled over the comms system, coming from the van parked in front of theirs. “You guys see anything?”

“Rundown asylum,” Alicia said. “Abandoned. You say the power’s back on?”

“According to Bennett, yes. Nothing official, it’s not like they applied to the electric company. But there’s a power surge coming from that house and all utilities are working. It’s a big ass house.”

“Correct. A dozen people could get lost in there.”

“Are we sure this is the right place?” Dahl asked from the seat beside Drake.

“You heard Bennett. CCTV cameras reverse-imaged two of these guys, from the moment they killed the soldiers guarding the sword, through London, to here. Arrived ninety minutes ago. Haven’t a clue what they’ve been doing since.”

“Playing chess?” Kinimaka suggested.

“I doubt it dude. They’re mercs.”

“Good point. I Spy, then?”

Alicia chose that moment to comment. “Well, I spy a whopper in the front window. Could be ex-military.”

Luther leaned forward. “A whopper?”

Mai grunted. “With Alicia? That could mean a number of things.”

“A goon,” Alicia confirmed. “I guess that’s enough corroboration.” She threw the scope on the dashboard in front of her. “Can we go in and talk to them now?”

“I thought you said it was creepy,” Dahl said.

“Don’t worry. I’ll keep my eyes closed.”

Drake cracked open the door. “Dahl, she’s with you. The rest — let’s go.”

Silently, the team exited their vans under a leaden gray sky, smelling rain on the mid-afternoon air. Bennett had provided weapons and other military trappings, so Drake found himself outfitted with an HK MP5 sub machine gun, a 9mm Sig Sauer, stun grenades and tear gas canisters. They wore assault suits, fireproof knee and elbow pads and a bullet-proof armored waistcoat designed not only to stop a bullet but also to absorb its kinetic energy.

Kinimaka and Smyth carried the breaching gear. A sledgehammer and battering ram, pneumatic tools and explosives. Others carried ladders and ropes.

They were all out, ready to strike the old asylum like a bolt of thunder. Drake leapt the short wall, landed in overgrowth and ran with his head low, gun aimed carefully ahead. The team were with him, their boots swishing through shrubbery the only sound. Trees were positioned here and there, providing brief shelter, and then they resumed, running for the wall of the house.

Drake arrived in seconds, putting his back to the brick. Half the team would go around back; half around the side. Drake gave it a minute and then crept under the nearest window, heading for the side of the large house. Another window loomed and then they grouped, preparing to breach. Drake waited for the “go” from the other team before giving the signal. Instantly, Mai and Dahl raced around him, taking point. He went third and knew Alicia was at his back.

A dozen targets stood between them and the sword.

A narrow path ran down the side of the house, covered by a triangular, tiled roof. It ended at the side door. Drake signaled Smyth to come around, who then breached the entrance with a battering ram. Dahl jumped in first, backed by Mai as the thick door swung back against its hinges. They were going in loud and hard, hoping to surprise their enemy into mistakes. Drake found himself inside a narrow kitchen, consisting mostly of shelves, cupboards and sinks, and then turned left along another narrow passage and through a much larger kitchen. To the left a staircase with a red threadbare carpet led to the first floor. To the right more rotting archways ran deeper into the house.

“Split,” Dahl called.

Alicia chose the house, followed by Kenzie, Yorgi and Molokai, the last man looking beastly, clad not only in his own clothes but in the SAS get-up too. Alicia couldn’t think of a time when she’d run with anyone more imposing. They cleared one room and then another, each a small sitting room still furnished with old sofas and spiderweb-coated bookcases that reached up to the ceiling. Old paintings, covered in dust, hung on the walls.

“It’s as though someone fled very quickly,” Kenzie breathed. “Spooky.”

“If this were a horror movie the original patients would still be here,” Molokai intoned. “Not that I watch horror movies much.”

Yorgi couldn’t take his eyes off the many potential treasures, though none of them sparkled any more. The Russian thief appeared to be cataloguing an inventory for later.

Gunfire sounded somewhere in the house. Alicia didn’t waver, just swept as fast as caution allowed around the eastern wall. They were nearing the back of the old hospital now; she could see overgrown garden through the windows ahead. Alert as she’d ever been, she saw a patch of shadow spreading across the floor from the doorway in front and fired instantly through the wooden paneling that protected it. There was a grunt, followed by a thump as a body fell into her path, chest pouring blood. She hurdled the dead mass, came down and saw another figure sheltering behind an overturned refrigerator to the right.

No fucking about today, asshole.

She hurled a grenade, then ran in the opposite direction, now following a corridor that ran parallel to the back of the house. The grenade exploded behind her, shrapnel flying everywhere, flames licking at the ceiling. A window smashed to their right, a frame buckled, but the refrigerator itself had stopped most of the blast — well, the refrigerator and the merc, to be fair.

Alicia sped along, stopping to clear rooms along the way, working in concert with Molokai and Kenzie as Yorgi searched for signs of the sword. By necessity, this was a rapid shock attack, but it would help to take at least a couple of the mercs alive.

Up ahead, there stood another closed door. Alicia saw vapor seeping through the gap along the bottom and pulled up sharply.

“Fire?”

“Doesn’t smell like fire.” Kenzie sniffed the air. “And it looks more like steam.”

Alicia readied herself, feeling a little bemused, then grabbed the brass doorknob. It turned easily, allowing her to crack it open a little. The spectacle beyond caused the corners of her mouth to curl up.

“Interesting,” she murmured. “It’s the men’s shower room.”

Kenzie shifted from foot to foot. “Is it occupied?”

“I’ll say.”

Alicia opened the door wider, an inch at a time. The noise of the three running showers and the banging rock music from someone’s phone boomed out, masking any noise they might have made. Alicia slipped in first, then Kenzie, Molokai and Yorgi. Before them lay a makeshift, open shower area — just six shower heads in a row and a sloped wet floor that led to a drain. Three naked, muscular mercs were soaping and rinsing, completely engrossed. Alicia paused for a moment at the edge of the wet area.

“Yogi, cover your eyes. You’re too young to see this.”

“I believe we should attack right away,” Molokai said, still giving Alicia the creeps in his voluminous robe-like clothes. “Whilst they are preoccupied.”

Alicia nodded. “I agree.”

“Then why are we waiting?”

“Welllll… I’m feeling quite relaxed right now.”

Yorgi approached the edge of the dry floor. “Do you see any weapons?”

Alicia glanced at him and choked. “Are you kidding me?”

Kenzie crouched. “Best show I’ve seen in a while.”

“I’m still worried about weapons,” Yorgi said, casting his eyes all around the room.