Mason saw the madness take hold of Cassadaga. It lit the man’s eyes from within, firing those hellish pits. One moment he was fighting cleverly, sensibly, the next the bloodlust had taken him, and anything that moved was fair game. It wasn’t a gradual process either; it was a sudden spark of madness that leapt through the thief like black flame.
Mason thought the change might give him a chance. But then Daga was targeting random men and women, going after them with flashing hands and feet, and Mason saw that he would have to be the deterrent, the protector. He would have to get in between Daga and his prey.
Daga struck out, kicked a man in the thigh and brought him down. He chopped another across the neck, smashing his larynx. He was about to grab a woman’s hair, haul her back and put out her eyes when Joe Mason got close enough to attack. Mason filled Daga’s vision. The people flowed all around the two combatants.
Mason ducked his head and punched, throwing out hard boxer’s strikes. Daga covered up, not wanting a broken rib or damaged kidney. They fell across the aisle, through the crowd and into the other row of seating. There were chairs everywhere, obstacles trying to trip them up. Mason doubled down on his attack, keeping Daga occupied.
A fleeing woman struck Roxy. The impact loosened her grip on Ivana’s neck. Her hand slipped away. Ivana coughed and backed off, almost doubled over. Roxy didn’t let her recover. She kicked a chair at the woman’s shins. The chair hit hard, making her cry out. Roxy was a metre behind the chair, leaping at Ivana, who backed away again, just trying to create a little space. Roxy struck at the woman’s face, targeting her eyes and throat. Ivana stumbled, fell to one knee. Roxy didn’t fall for it. She knew all the tricks. Shit, she’d invented a lot of them herself. She let Ivana linger on one knee, picked up a nearby chair and threw it at the woman’s head.
Ivana rolled out of the way, came up with both fists raised. It was a good job, as Roxy was immediately upon her, striking out right and left, using her knees and elbows in close quarters.
Behind them, Quaid was dragging people up the aisle and helping them through the crush. He couldn’t help it; he was wired to act this way. He could see Mason and Roxy holding their own, staying on top of their respective fights, and his overwhelming urge was to give aid to the fleeing people. At his side, Hassell was struggling to push through the crush and get to Roxy.
From the other side of the auction room, Sally watched both battles. She wasn’t crazy enough to get involved, to think she could stand up to either Daga or Ivana. This wasn’t her battle to get caught up in. She watched the exits, watched the auctioneer and his assistants, watched for the arrival of the police. It wouldn’t be long.
And, as much as she longed for it, longed for someone to stop Daga, she agonised lives would be lost. Daga seemed unstoppable, a killing machine. Only Mason could stand up to him, and even Mason was making little headway.
Daga snarled, eyes flashing. His hands flicked out, catching Mason in the temple and driving him back. Daga didn’t press the advantage. He couldn’t stop himself from lashing out at another civilian, taking him down to the ground and kicking him harshly in the ribs. Mason came back in a hurry and drove him further up the aisle.
Towards the door.
The fighters moved with the crowd, much to the crowd’s terror, caught up in the flow. Quaid grabbed and helped up the civilian Daga had felled, the man gingerly holding his ribs. Quaid urged him to ignore the pain and move quickly. He turned to the next person and pulled them faster into the stream of people.
Hassell finally broke free of the crowd and clambered across rows of seats towards Roxy. Ivana saw him coming. She attacked with a flurry of blows, raining her fists down onto Roxy’s skull and shoulders, creating some space, and then stepped past the American to face Hassell.
Hassell was momentarily shocked.
Ivana kicked out, catching him between the legs and felling him. Then she whirled to meet Roxy’s next attack. Both women stumbled on a mass of chairs, falling among the upturned legs and backs. Still, they lashed out, catching each other across the face. Ivana was up first, pushing her way towards the exit.
Daga was watching Ivana’s battle, too. Mason kept seeing the thief’s eyes flicking in that direction. It was an interesting telltale, proving that Daga had feelings for Ivana. He didn’t want to see her hurt or captured. Mason might be able to work with that.
He noticed Daga was also steering them gradually towards the main exit.
The doors that led to the lobby were currently wide open, held that way by the flow of people. Shouts and screams filled the air and people pushed and shoved their way to the front. Rich or mega-rich, it didn’t matter, everyone was equal in the crush.
‘Give it up, Daga,’ he tried.
The thief didn’t even reply. He was too intent on hurting people. He struck out carefully at Mason, driving him back, and then hit out at passing civilians, enjoying himself.
Minutes later, the battle had left the auction room and was crossing the lobby. There was more space in here, and it felt more airy because the ceilings were higher. There was the glass frontage too that looked out onto the street. The floors were made of shiny white marble, the walls painted white to look as spotless as possible. Daga looked like he was trying to get blood on them.
He grabbed a man by the side of the head and rammed him into the wall. The man’s eyes fluttered closed, but Daga held him there, pulled the head back and would have rammed him again if Mason hadn’t waded in, forcing Daga to drop the man and defend himself. Mason found his blows blocked and defended and then had to back away as Daga sought to blind him with several sharp jabs to the eyes.
At the glass doors, Roxy and Ivana were engaged in a wrestling match. Each had hold of the other around the neck and was trying to force their opponent’s head to the floor. Hassell ranged around the back and kicked Ivana in the leg, trying to topple her. The woman’s leg buckled, and she fell. Roxy landed on top of her, stuck in the doorway, bearing her to the ground.
It wasn’t pretty. People stumbled over them left and right. Women wearing jewels and men sporting expensive blazers trampled them without care. Roxy found that the only way was to roll out of the lobby and into the street, going with the shoes, and then standing her ground as she forced herself upright.
Ivana was rolling too, this time straight into Roxy’s feet. As Roxy got her balance, Ivana took it, sending her back down to the ground. Roxy hit hard, landing on her spine, the impact taking her breath away. Ivana chose the opportunity to clamber on top of her.
‘Now I will kill you,’ she said.
Roxy fought off a wave of pain. Her eyes had blurred, but she tried to focus on Ivana’s face, which was just inches away. She brought a knee up, rolled, and tried to throw Ivana off, but it was Hassell punching in from the right that rattled Ivana’s ribs and forced her to climb off.
Roxy jumped to her feet.
Mason followed her outside, still engaged in combat with Daga. It was cool, the streets slick out here. Drizzle filled the air. Mason’s face was coated with water the second he stepped outside. The night air resounded with the sound of approaching sirens.
‘They’re gonna put you in jail, Daga,’ Mason said. ‘For ever.’
‘I will die first,’ Daga snarled.
Mason had heard that before. He’d heard it all across Iraq, night and day, from the throats of his worst enemies. There was little worse than fighting in a foreign country against its inhabitants and trying to kill them. But what made it better, made it more acceptable, was fighting alongside men and women you thought of as your friends. You were all highly trained, as well equipped as you could be, but the biggest comfort was your comrades in arms, your colleagues. When you were fighting against an enemy that was prepared to die for their cause, you needed strength in numbers and a certain peace of mind.
And tonight, Mason had his team. They were with him. Roxy and Hassell were targeting Ivana. Quaid was ushering people to safety, following his heart and his gut. Sally was helping people get free and keeping an eye out for the police. She was talking to security people, probably warning them off, trying to save their lives.
Mason separated from Daga on the glossy street. The thief wasn’t even panting. Mason’s heart was beating wildly, his hair soaked. The drifting drizzle floated between them, droplets illuminated with blazing light and flashing like fire.
The thief’s eyes were still wild, focusing on every civilian, on every runner at the same time as engaging with Mason. It was impossible to tell which way he was going to jump – at Mason or at innocent people. Mason had experienced nothing like it.
Ahead and to the right, Ivana and Roxy were locked in a similar kind of combat, Ivana striking out at any passing civilian who strayed too close. Quaid was herding them away. Hassell was coming at Ivana from her blind side.
Roxy found her focus and her objectives changing. The fight with Ivana had not only moved, but it had also changed parameters several times. Now, as the woman targeted running people, Roxy concentrated on saving them.
Ivana punched out at a passing woman, aiming for the ribs. Roxy grabbed the woman by the coat and twisted her away. Ivana went to trip a tall man who ran past holding his partner’s hand, but Roxy struck right at that moment, diverting Ivana’s attack into a defence. She was protecting people, saving them, working hard to defend those who hadn’t come here to fight. And it felt good. Every person she saved was a shadow on Ivana’s soul. It put the other woman off her game, frustrated her no end. Roxy wasn’t quick enough to stop Ivana from grabbing a blond woman around the neck, but she was strong enough to force Ivana away from her, enabling the woman to break free and run.
This was how she used her skills to save ordinary people. This was how she raised new barriers to guard against the old memories. This was how she eclipsed the sins of her past, the sins they made her commit.
Ivana came at her, sweeping low. Roxy evaded her, kicked out, and caught the woman in the thigh. Ivana grimaced. She rose to her feet, saw another passer-by running down the road to her right and, crazily, turned her attention from Roxy to leap at him. She tackled him and bore him to the ground, raining down blows at his face and neck. Roxy was a split second behind her, lashing out at Ivana and causing her enough pain to turn away from the man. Roxy saw redemption in the focus of her attacks.
Mason was dealing with a similar situation with Daga. Thank God there were no guns involved. This could easily have become a bloodbath. The good news was that the sirens and the flashing red lights were a lot closer. Daga had taken out another security guard, leaving him prone on the floor but, thanks to Mason, still breathing. People ran past them, pounding down the slick road, dampened by the rain, some screaming as they saw the men and women fighting.
Daga’s face was becoming increasingly less ecstatic. He knew the chaos was soon going to end. His eyes fixed on Mason’s for the first time in a while, instead of roving among the fleeing civilians. Mason tried to ignore the aches and pains that Daga had inflicted on him.
‘You failed,’ Mason said, trying to distract him further.
‘I have had my fun.’ The corners of Daga’s lips turned up.
‘Marduk will be angry with you.’ It was a sentence designed to raise Daga’s hackles, maybe make him make a mistake.
It worked. Daga’s eyes flashed. His guard went down. He spread his arms, opened his mouth to say something.
And Mason attacked.
He hit hard from the front, driving in with a knee and an elbow. The knee struck Daga’s sternum, the elbow a cheekbone. Daga grunted from the pain but didn’t flinch. He stumbled back about three steps. Mason was close up, twisting his body to deliver punch after punch as quickly as possible. This was his best chance to take Daga out. The thief doubled up and then fell to one knee. Mason was standing over him.
Daga lashed out, sending a low punch at Mason’s groin. A sickening wave of pain lanced through him. He fought against it, but couldn’t help falling to his knees.
Face to face with Daga.
The thief head-butted him. Mason felt his nose crack. Again, the pain debilitated him. Rain splashed down his face. He swayed backwards.
Daga’s eyes were dangerously close, the thief sweating heavily and panting, slicked with blood, not all his own. He rose and Mason sought to rise with him, but couldn’t quite make it to his feet at the same time. He reached out, but there was no one around to help him up.
‘Next time,’ Daga said, ‘I will kill you slowly and painfully.’
Mason wanted to deride him, to tell him to stop being a cliché, to highlight his failures, but couldn’t quite summon up the strength to speak. Finally, he got to his feet, swaying.
‘Next time,’ Daga said again, and was gone.
He didn’t vanish like they do in the movies, but he yelled at Ivana, got her attention, and then turned to run with the tail end of the crowd, heading towards the rain-slicked back streets. After a minute, even Mason lost sight of him.
His first thought was for his friends. Roxy was staggering across to him, her knuckles bruised and bloody. He saw Hassell wavering back and forth as he, too, attempted to make his way over. Quaid was standing amid the milling crowd, having saved dozens from the hands of the killers and urged even more to safety. Sally was walking across, her own hands slicked red where she had tried to staunch blood.
Despite it all, one word flashed continually in Mason’s mind.
Failure.
‘We should get out of here.’ Hassell’s first words spoke of the ex-criminal’s state of mind.
‘The cops are almost upon us,’ Roxy said.
‘We have nothing to hide,’ Sally said. ‘We’re working for the Vatican.’
‘They mean it’s more of a time issue,’ Mason said between gasps. ‘We’d lose hours just cutting through the red tape.’
With that, they started hobbling towards the same back streets that Daga and Ivana had used, which Mason saw as highly ironic. The crowd and some still-running people shielded their movements.
‘CCTV will reveal our faces and identities,’ Quaid said. ‘But by then we can have Conte make a call.’
Mason nodded and wished he hadn’t. ‘Does my nose look bent?’ he said.
Roxy narrowed her eyes. ‘Looks odd,’ she said. ‘Want me to snap it back?’
Mason shuddered. ‘God, no.’
‘Someone’s gonna have to do it and the sooner the better, while your adrenalin’s still firing. I’d rather it be me.’ She looked serious before adding, ‘And I’d take no pleasure in it.’
Mason slowed as they entered another side street. He thought he’d seen movement ahead. It was dark all around them, the vault of the night sky above offering no light. Darkened shopfronts and restaurants stood to each side, their frontages plastered with rain.
‘Wait,’ he said.
‘What is it?’ Roxy frowned at his tone of voice.
‘I thought I saw something ahead.’
Sally moved into their midst. She’d been hanging back, thinking. ‘What kind of something?’ she asked.
‘Figures. Two of them.’
‘You don’t think …’ Roxy let the sentence hang.
‘Crap,’ Quaid said.
Mason wiped the rain from his eyes. ‘I can’t be sure,’ he said. ‘It was a fleeting glimpse. But I swear I just saw Daga and Ivana.’
‘But that means …’ Quaid began.
‘Yeah, we’re being hunted,’ Mason finished.