The Hunt For Atlantis

One of the soldiers winced. “Ow. That’ll hurt.” The foreigner had shot right over the top of the entrance to the railway tunnel and plunged out of sight onto the tracks.

“Serves the bastard right!” snarled the man next to him. Special forces or not, a drop that high onto the unforgiving steel and concrete of a railway line would break a bone or two, maybe even kill a man.

Mahjad strode over to them and looked down. The Englishman’s route down the steep slope was easy to follow, a trail of drifting dust winding down to the tunnel. “Get the ropes,” he ordered. “I want three men to go down there and find him. If he’s dead, take his body to the train yard. If he’s alive…” his face twisted with a mix of anger and sadistic humor, “take his body to the train yard.”

“Sir!” The soldiers saluted, three of them preparing to descend the slope.

Mahjad walked back to Hajjar. The fleeing Russian had been recaptured, and now stood under guard with the other prisoners. “This is all your fault!” Mahjad snapped, jabbing a finger into Hajjar’s face. “You didn’t tell me he was some sort of trained assassin!”

“I didn’t know myself!” Hajjar blustered. “I thought he was just an ex-soldier she’d hired as a bodyguard!” He gestured at Kari, who glared back with chilly disdain.

“I’ve got four dead men and another three wounded! How am I going to explain this? How?”

Hajjar licked his lips nervously, sweating even in the cool breeze. “Perhaps… a donation of some sort to their families? And their commanding officer?”

“I’ll tell you what sort of donation, Failak,” snarled Mahjad. He paused for a moment. Hajjar’s nervousness grew. “A very large one.”

“I’ll make the arrangements as soon as I return to my home,” said Hajjar, relieved.

Mahjad regarded him coldly. “You’d better.”

“You have my word. Now,” he said, giving Kari another look, “I have to leave. There’s some urgent business I need to take care of-and it would be best if we’re not seen together at the scene of this… unfortunate incident.”

Mahjad nodded reluctantly, and his soldiers drew Nina, Castille and Hafez away while the others boarded the Jet Ranger. Volgan, now too scared to protest, sat in the center rear seat, one of Hajjar’s bodyguards on either side, while Kari was forced onto his lap. With her hands cuffed behind her back, there was little she could do to resist as the seat belt was tightly secured around her waist, effectively tying her to Volgan.

Hajjar took the copilot’s seat. “Oh, Ms. Frost,” he said, reaching back to take her chin in his one hand, “no need to look like that. You won’t be mistreated-you’re far too valuable. As long as your father cooperates, at least.”

Kari jerked out of his grasp. “You’ve made the worst mistake of your life, Hajjar.”

He gave her a smug smile. “Now, now. There’s no need to make this unpleasant. Just sit back and enjoy the ride. And if you want to help Yuri relax…” he glanced at the ashenfaced Volgan behind her, “then by all means wriggle about. I’m sure he’ll appreciate it. The last pleasure of the condemned man, hmm?” The smile turned cold. “Just don’t wriggle too much. It would be unfortunate if my bodyguards thought you were trying to escape and shot you.” One of the men poked the muzzle of his gun into her side for emphasis.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she sneered.

“Good!” Hajjar turned to his pilot. “Let’s go.”

Nina watched in shock and disbelief as the helicopter took off and wheeled away. From New York academia to Iranian prisoner in the space of two days-what the hell had happened to her life?

And now Kari was being held for ransom, and as for Chase…

She couldn’t understand much of what the soldiers were saying, but from their unhurried pace it was clear they thought he was dead.

A large military truck arrived at the farmhouse. As the soldiers shoved her, Castille and Hafez aboard, she had to fight not to cry.

Chase took a last deep breath and braced himself.

He had just managed to twist around as he plunged over the edge and caught a small outcrop of rock with one hand. Dangling like a puppet, it took him almost a minute to bring up his other hand and fully secure himself.

Not that it helped.

He was hanging directly above one of the railway lines. The tips of his toes were a good eighteen feet above the track, which even for an SAS man wasn’t a drop to be taken lightly, and there was absolutely nothing to soften the fall. About the only way his landing could be any nastier would be if he were over a bed of spikes.

But he had no choice. Shouts and a warning rattle of stones skittering down the slope told him he was about to have company.

So-drop!

Even though he was ready for the impact, bending his knees and rolling, pain still ripped through his legs as if they’d been hit with an iron bar. He fell heavily, gasping in agony as the unyielding metal of the railway track smashed against his chest. Fighting through the pain, he forced himself to crawl off the line.

Damage assessment. Both legs hurt like hell, and his left ankle had taken the brunt of the impact, but nothing was broken. He knew what that felt like.

He sat up, grimacing at another throb of pain from his ribs. On the plus side, it would have been a lot worse if he hadn’t been wearing his tough leather jacket. After a few deep breaths, focusing himself, Chase got to his feet-

And let out a roar of fury.

It wasn’t so much an expression of agony as a way to release it, to control it. Some of the SAS’s pain management techniques were rough and ready-but they worked.

“Oh, now I’m pissed off,” he rasped.

A noise from above attracted his attention. Not the soldiers coming after him, but Hajjar’s helicopter, disappearing over a ridge. The hook-handed bastard was taking Kari away, planning to force a ransom from her father.

What to do?

Kari Frost was his employer-and he doubted her father would be very understanding if he let anything happen to her. A failure like that would probably end his career on the spot. Nobody would ever hire him again.

On the other hand, as his employer she had given him a very specific order-the reason he’d been hired in the first place.

Protect Nina Wilde.

And if the soldiers had her, they probably had Castille and Hafez as well. The truck he’d seen could only go one way, back down the road past the train yard.

The train yard…

If he could get there in time, he might be able to find another vehicle, a way to follow them.

And rescue them.

Gritting his teeth as pain jabbed through his ankle, Chase ran along the railway line.

SIX

Don’t worry,” said Castille to Nina as the truck lurched down the dirt road, “we’ll be okay.”