her throat, she swept up her right hand to deliver a karate blow to Hajjar’s jaw. Her awkward position didn’t provide much leverage, but the heel of her palm still struck hard enough to drive his lower jaw against his upper with a sharp crack of snapping teeth. Spitting blood, he let out a gurgling scream and staggered backwards. Kari rolled away, and Chase leapt over her to tackle Hajjar.
“Get the thing!” he shouted at Kari as he struggled with the Iranian, grabbing his wrists. Hajjar was stronger than he looked, muscle beneath the fat. And he had a lethal weapon in each hand, while all Chase had were his two fists.
Kari scrambled to her feet, keeping her head low to avoid the rotor blades. She moved to the open cockpit door.
“No! Kari! It’s in his bag!” Nina yelled.
Chase looked down. Hajjar had a satchel over one shoulder-
The brief distraction was enough to give Hajjar an opportunity. Driven by pain and fury, he twisted his left wrist and squeezed the trigger of the Ingram. Flames exploded from the barrel of the evil little machine pistol, the fire close enough to burn Chase’s cheek and neck as the bullets seared past. Castille, running to help his partner, abruptly changed course and pulled Kari away as the shots raked along the helicopter’s side.
Hajjar brought his gun around for a lethal shot.
Two fists,
Chase pounded a crunching head butt straight into the Iranian’s face, crushing his nose flat in a rosette of blood. “Stitch that!”
More smoke belched from the chopper, the crackle of flames rising even above the howl of the engine.
Still gripping Hajjar’s wrists, Chase pulled his dazed opponent upright. “Hajjar!” he yelled.
Hajjar realized what was about to happen, but too late.
His good hand and the Ingram it was clutching disintegrated in a shower of gore and shattered steel as Chase thrust them into the spinning rotor blades. His knife-hand fared no better, the eight-inch blade snapping like a lollipop stick before the whirling rotor took another two inches off the stump of his wrist.
Hajjar stared in horrified disbelief at the blood gushing from the ends of his arms. Then he looked down as the Englishman swung him around-
Chase’s huge fist delivered a pile-driver blow square in the middle of his flattened, bloodied face. Hajjar staggered back, falling into the cockpit as Chase snagged the strap of his satchel, pulling it from him.
The impact rocked the helicopter, which creaked ominously as its weight shifted.
Chase turned and ran, seeing Castille already racing away for the cover of the stairs with Kari right beside him.
The first lick of flames escaped the battered fuselage, curling around the top of the engine casing as the helicopter toppled completely onto its side. What was left of the rotor blades plowed into the concrete and shattered, torque grinding the chopper’s nose into the helipad. Fuel spilled from the ruptured tanks, raining down on to the burning engine-
Hajjar screamed, but the sound was completely obliterated as the helicopter exploded.
Castille and Kari threw themselves into the arched doorway at the bottom of the stairs. Chase, some yards behind them, could only dive for the ground.
Burning debris rained down, but the fuselage had contained most of the blast. The largest pieces landed well short of him. That didn’t stop a few smaller chunks of mangled metal striking his back and legs. He yelled in pain.
“Edward!” Castille shouted, running back to him.
“Shit!” Chase said, standing painfully and clutching his leg. “Feels like I got kicked by a fucking horse!”
Nina ran down the stairs to Kari. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine!” she said, eyes wide with gratitude. Both women hurried over to Chase. “Did you get the artifact?”
“Are you all right?” Nina asked at the same time. They exchanged smiles, then hurried over to him.
“You see? Helicopters!” said Castille, waving a hand at the burning wreckage. “Twice in five minutes one has almost killed me! Vehicles of the Devil!”
“Hugo? Shut it,” Chase told him wearily, limping to pick up his Wildey.
“The artifact?” Kari asked.
He handed her the satchel. “Here. Hope it’s worth it.”
“It is,” she said, opening the bag and carefully lifting out the metal bar. The nearby flames reflecting from its surface gave it even more of a glow. “This is it,” she said, passing it reverently to Nina. “This is the path to Atlantis.”
Nina took it, examining the symbols scribed into the metal. At once familiar, yet
“I wouldn’t say we’re
Hajjar’s other men were either dead, or had decided that survival outweighed loyalty to their late employer and run away. The group encountered no further resistance as Chase led them to the main courtyard.
In the northeastern corner was a set of large doors. He swung them open.
“Hajjar’s taxi service,” he proclaimed, sweeping an arm at the rows of expensive vehicles parked within. “Not quite as good as your collection, boss, but it’ll do. So, what do you want?”
“I don’t think we’ll get very far in a Ferrari,” Castille noted of the yellow F355 near the doors, “not on the local roads. And it may be a little… high profile.”
“A Hummer isn’t exactly hard to spot either,” added Kari, examining a bright green H3 disdainfully.
“You got any preferences, Doc?” Chase asked Nina.
“Well in that case,” he said, eyes lighting on a particular vehicle, “might as well do it in style. Maybe Hajjar wasn’t so bad after all…”
A few minutes later, a silver Range Rover charged down the twisting road from the fortress, then with the throaty roar of a V-8 engine headed away into the mountains.
TEN
France
Iran was a long way behind her. And thank God for that, thought Nina, as she gazed out from the hotel balcony over Paris. From the penthouse suite, she had a clear view across the city. Landmarks like Notre-Dame and, farther away, the Eiffel Tower stood out in their floodlit glory against the clear night sky as if placed there for her personal pleasure.
But sightseeing would have to wait. She had work to do first. And she didn’t seem to be getting anywhere.
Someone knocked on the door. “Come in,” she called, turning away from the balcony. Kari entered.
