Tox leapt forward. “No authority? We built this place, you jumped-up little twat.”
Addy amended their argument. “Us and General Wickstaff, that is. Pity your boss murdered her. She was good people.”
The guard took a step forward, his rifle raised, and pointed. “This ain’t a discussion, mate. Walk away and get some sleep. It’s late. Too late to be skulking about in the dark like a bunch of rats.”
Mass exhaled, shaking his head sadly. “This ain’t the way I hoped this would go. I suppose you can take the boy out of Brixton…” He was about to give Tox the okay that he was desperately waiting for, but Damien walked into the firing line and approached the guards with his hands raised. He was the only one of them who wasn’t armed.
“Look, geezer, why are we having a pissing contest? We all need to stick together, innit? You boys must have served in the Middle East, yeah? Respect to that. You must’ve seen some real heavy shit.”
The guard eyed Damien suspiciously. “You have no idea.”
“I believe it. You know, I always wished I’d joined the army. Would’ve got me away from my old man for one thing.”
The guard nodded. “Yeah, my old man weren’t up to much either. Barely knew him, to be honest. Guess it’s all in the past now though, so my advice is you get over it and move on before you get yourself shot. Thanks for sharing though.”
“Don’t be like that, geezer. I’m just saying, we’re all the same, innit?”
Mass moved his finger slowly towards his shotgun’s trigger. What the hell was Damien doing?
The guard shouldered his rifle, ready to shoot. “Talk all you want, mate, but you ain’t coming through.”
“Why do you insist on butting heads?” Damien yanked the guard’s rifle and planted a horrifying headbutt in the centre of the startled man’s face. His colleague reacted, but Damien spun around and dropped him with a roundhouse kick that would have made Jason Statham proud. The guards hit the ground, both unconscious. Damien immediately started jostling their prone bodies.
Smithy pulled a face. “Whoa, what are you doing, man?”
“Putting them in the recovery position. We’re trying not to kill anyone, right?”
“That was some impressive kung fu,” said Addy, nodding appreciatively. “Where d’you learn that?”
“It wasn’t kung fu, but I got it from another Damien.”
Smithy frowned. “What does that mean?”
“It means there was a Damien someplace else that knew tae kwon do. He died and all his knowledge passed to me. Now there are only two of us left, and I ain’t exactly alive.”
Smithy raised an eyebrow. “You’re like Jet Li in that old film. You get stronger every time one of you dies. Shit, I miss blobbing out in front of a good action flick.”
Damien looked down at the two unconscious guards, a pained expression on his face. “Not stronger, no. Their memories and knowledge filter down to me, but not their strength. It’s sort of like muscle memory. I don’t remember how I learned tae kwon do, I just suddenly did one day. Like I know I can ride a bike even though I haven’t since I was a kid.”
Smithy nodded. “So you can just tae kwon do it.”
Damien rolled his eyes. “Is there an off button on this guy. Look, you people wanted a quiet way in and I just gave it to you.”
Mass patted Damien on the back. It was like hitting a slab of ice. “If I’d known we had Bruce Lee on the team, I might have planned differently.”
“Bruce Lee didn’t believe in kicking above the knee,” said Smithy. “So it’s not really a good analogy.”
Addy groaned. “Someone is going to kick you in the knee in a moment. Shut up, for God’s sake.”
“Sorry.” He made a zipping motion over his lips.
Mass looked at him and put out his palm. “I want the key.”
Smithy made the motion of locking his lips and handing over the key. Mass took it and then waved a hand to get everyone moving again. The two guards remained unconscious on the floor.
12
“It’s late,” Addy whispered as they crouched in a dark alleyway, “but Wanstead could still be awake. Do we wait a little longer?”
Mass nodded. “We can’t afford to delay any longer. Every second we take counts against us. We need to take control of Portsmouth and prepare ourselves for an attack before it’s too late.”
Tox adjusted the peak of his baseball cap. “How? Thomas took two-thirds of the soldiers with him.”
“Maybe he’ll succeed,” said Addy. “Maybe the only thing to turn up at the gates will be a victorious army.”
“If that happens, I’ll be the first to worship at Thomas’s feet,” said Mass, “but I doubt any army can succeed against what we saw coming. At least not out in the open.”
“Maybe Thomas has a plan we don’t know about.”
“Yeah, maybe. Let’s just—” Mass ducked and put a finger to his lips as a guard appeared ahead in the light of a nearby barrel-fire. It was another man he didn’t recognise, holding a military-spec rifle. Addy moved into cover ahead, hiding behind a row of army Land Rover ambulances that must have arrived with Thomas’s fleet. They moved up to join her, and then waited for the guard to move out of sight. Mass gave the signal to get going again.
The port administration building was right there. More guards should’ve been watching the entrance, but the place appeared deserted. All the lights inside were off. It was hard to know what time it was, but it couldn’t have been past midnight.
“It’s quiet,” said Addy. “I know everyone’s left Portsmouth, but I would have expected more than a couple of guards.”
“Thomas doesn’t care about the people left here,” said Damien. “He cares about wiping out the demons. For that he needs soldiers. I’m kinda sad I’m not out there with them. It’ll be a hell of a fight.”
“They’ll be plenty of fighting here,” said Mass, “I
