Gabriel Hunt - Hunt Among the Killers of Men

But Mitch could jockey these beasts. She knew it, and the brass knew it too, even if they’d never admit it. She’d longed for a gunship and the chance to deploy its devastating firepower in combat, just once. This might have been that chance, but Kuan-Ku Tak Cheung, wily devil that he was, had provided no bangbang aboard this eggbeater.

They had their rifles, and the guns taken off the dead pilot and his companion. Mitch had spotted a few racked grenades. And they had the helo.

“This puts us into the center of things,” said Qi.

“Meaning?” Mitch concentrated on the rudder, which was a little slushy-feeling. She wiped sweat off her forehead.

“Cheung’s helipad directly accesses his headquarters. No infiltration, no disguises. No strategy. All that is left to us is the lightning raid.”

“You mean barge in, guns blazing, and hope for the best?” Mitch sucked air between her teeth. “Sorry, but that sounds a lot like your other plans, based as they were on the idea of a one-way mission. I’m no kamikaze.”

“We have the Killers of Men as a bargaining chip. Cheung may hate us. He may want us dead on sight. But he is not so foolish as to risk this prize.”

“So we fly right in like we own the place?”

“Exactly. Without Ivory or Dinanath, Cheung’s subordinates will stand down.”

“You hope.”

Qi almost smiled. “Always. But I also prepare for the worst.” She went to work stripping and cleaning the guns.

Ivory had a layer of bandage pads taped to his forehead and his eyes seemed to glitter unnaturally in the dim light of the shrine room, candlefire making them appear too starkly white.

He sat with his lethal OTs-33 held loosely, dangling between his knees as he perched on the canvas-tarped pile of one of Qi’s caches.

“You have me at a disadvantage,” Gabriel said, even though it was obvious, standing as he was in an elevated metal cauldron.

Ivory said nothing.

“It appears we may have the same enemies now,” Gabriel added, waving in the direction of the neighboring shrine room, where Cheung’s men lay dead. He pointed at Ivory’s gun. “Quite a weapon. Russian, isn’t it?”

“It is adequate to my needs.”

“Yeah, I heard you weren’t too fond of Glocks.”

One of Ivory’s eyebrows arched. “That, too, served its purpose. Mr. Hunt, is it your intention to waste time with banter? I have never understood that about Americans; their reluctance to address a point directly.”

“‘Warfare is the tao of deceit,’” said Gabriel, quoting Sun Tzu. He thought he saw Ivory roll his eyes. No doubt sick of Westerners quoting The Art of War.

Gabriel considered climbing out, then thought better of it. Any abrupt movement might get him killed.

“These two women,” said Ivory without prelude. “Your dedication to them is unusual. My experience of most Westerners is that they are little more than infants incapable of seeing beyond their little personal dramas, attitudes, whims or appetites. What binds you to them?”

“Nothing,” said Gabriel. “I used them to help me find the Killers of Men, nothing more.”

“Ah, now you are being less than honest. Believe me, I know. I, too, have been less than forthcoming, with Cheung. My covenant was to lead him to this place. Instead I came alone, and found you. And as you have said, we seem to be on the same path, now. But I must understand how you got here.”

“All right, I’ll be honest,” Gabriel said. “I don’t want to see either Qi or Mitch hurt. That’s what I’m here for. The rest is incidental. There’s also my brother—I need to get him free. The quickest and surest way to accomplish these things is to eliminate your boss. I’m sorry, Ivory, but the man is a Grade-A certified lunatic, and I think you know it. If you didn’t, I’d be dead already.”

“I cannot—”

Gabriel overrode him. “You don’t have to. The women are on their own now—they can fend for themselves. And if you return with me to the city and present me to Cheung, I can get my brother back. You were supposed to find this place for Cheung—well, you’ve found it. By bringing me back to Cheung you will have discharged your duty. Cheung has already offered amnesty if I can reveal the Killers of Men to him; the women go free, my brother and I return to America.”

“If you believe Cheung’s word.”

“I don’t, not for a second. But look at what he wants versus what he’s got. We have leverage. Frankly, it’s what happens to you I’m not so sure of.”

“I have earned no mercy in this, no special consideration.”

“Except from me,” said Gabriel. “I’ll help you—if you let me get out of this pot.”

He watched this handsome, conflicted Asian work the variables out in his mind. For whatever it was worth. Ivory had still not pulled the trigger on Gabriel.

Yet.

They could see the Oriental Pearl TV Tower coming up fast on the horizon, aglitter with nightlight.

“Spot it for me,” said Mitch, meaning the landing platform cantilevered onto the backside of the Peace Hotel. It would be one of the neon-lit vertebrae of the Bund. “I can bank up and over.”

“There,” said Qi.

The concrete platform was a typical helicopter bull’s-eye, outlined by blue landing lights. Tiny now, far below them as the chopper found its mark.

“Son of a… bitch ,” Mitch grunted as though she’d just taken a bullet.

“What is it?” Qi shouted. In the bounce from the console telltales it was clear that Mitch was drenched in sweat. She was vising the bridge of her nose brutally and drawing air in fast, hyperventilating gasps.

“Goddamn it,” she groaned. “Not now, not now.”

The Kamov jolted drunkenly to port as Mitch tried to correct. Tears blurred her eyes to double-vision.

With a low animal noise, Mitch unwillingly let go of the stick to grab her head. The running sounds, the rotors, were jabbing into the soft tissue of her brain.

The chopper briefly lost float and gyro’ed around like a runaway carousel, slamming Qi into the port door.

Mitch grabbed Qi’s hands and posted them on the stick in front of her. “Hold this steady!” she said through gritted teeth. “I can hold the pedals. We’ve got to try to—”

They were already dropping like a stone. Qi saw the control dials ratchet alarmingly.

They struggled and together managed to get the copter almost level when a cramp tore through Mitch. It felt as though all her internal organs were being carelessly rearranged by a meatball medic using a rusty saw.

Qi saw the Peace Hotel landing platform whisk past on her left, at a sickening angle. They missed it by fifty yards.

“Hold the stick!” Mitch screamed, her eyes clamping shut. “We’re going…going to have to set it down in the street.”

It was academic. They were heading for the street anyway, their drop rate making lift unrecoverable.

In the street were thousands of cars, pedestrians, pedicabs, bicycles—all frantically trying to clear a path for what was sure to be a fiery crash.

The Kamov’s powerhouses were redlining and worse, starting to hitch and skip.

Mitch fought the craft level and for a precarious moment it seemed like a hard but manageable job of ditching. Then the landing skids rammed like javelins through the front and back windows of a justabandoned car and tore free, putting the Kamov into a forward roll with no landing gear.

The spinning blades were now front-most, scything like a gigantic lawn mower, snapping off and flip-flopping free as they chewed into pavement, automobiles and screaming people. Cars swerved and collided in the vain hope of not smashing into the upside-down juggernaut now sliding at speed through the congested street.