Alex Archer - Mystic Warrior

“Watch out!” Meszoly’s hand fell heavily onto Sabre’s shoulder and drove him down.

They hit the ground just as a helicopter outside the building opened fire. Heavy 7.62 mm rounds chopped through the glass and left fist-size holes in the wall and tore the display cases to pieces, spilling books and artifacts across the tiles.

Rolling onto his side, Sabre brought up the machine pistol and aimed at the helicopter’s gunner, centering on the muzzle flashes spewing from the weapon. The machine gun fell silent almost immediately and Sabre pushed himself to his feet, his ears ringing.

Looking through the empty space where the window had been, boots crunching on shards, Sabre dropped the empty magazine from his weapon and reloaded. He knew without looking that Meszoly had his back. Holding the machine pistol steady, Sabre fired bursts into the pilot, watching the glass around the man flare out around him.

The helicopter went out of control, diving and listing, coming around in a slow semicircle into one of the buildings.

“Get down!” Sabre turned from the window an instant before the rotors struck the building.

Meszoly threw himself down and rolled toward the outer hallway wall, seeking shelter. When the rotors struck the building, they turned into a screaming cloud of shrapnel that peppered everything around them. The helicopter exploded in an orange-and-black fireball that cast wavering light into the hallway.

Getting to his feet, Sabre checked the doorways in the hallway and saw no new movement. He checked the GPS and saw that the distance separating him from Krauzer hadn’t changed. The movie director was either down or he was in the stairwell.

Not wanting to leave anything to chance, Sabre ran to the darkened room and halted at the wall beside the dead man. He flicked on the miniflashlight clipped to the side of the machine pistol’s barrel and scanned the room. He stopped on the half-naked woman pointing a machine pistol at him while on her knees in front of a man lying in the corner of the room.

The woman didn’t flinch and Sabre respected that about her. She held his gaze easily and looked capable.

“I’ve got a wounded man here who needs medical attention.” She spoke calmly without taking her eyes from Sabre.

For a moment, Sabre thought she was talking to him. Then he spotted the phone glowing on the floor beside her.

“He’s been shot in the stomach and is going into shock.” The woman described where she was.

“Are you in danger at the moment?” a man asked over the phone’s speaker.

The woman waited, staring at Sabre.

He lifted the machine pistol and held his other hand up, as well. “I’m looking for Krauzer.”

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