They moved fast. They returned to their rooms, pulled out their weapons and took an inventory of what spare magazines they had left. Mason had two, as did Quaid, but the others were all down to their last mag. They pocketed their guns and the magazines, made sure their gear was packed in case they needed a fast getaway, and then met down in the lobby. Sally made a quick call to Premo Conte. The Inspector General of the Vatican Gendarmerie asked them to hold off until he’d assembled a team.
‘We can’t wait that long,’ Mason told him. ‘Marduk could vanish at any moment. Just get ready to smooth things over with the local cops.’
They didn’t wait for an answer. In less than two minutes, they were out the door and into the cool day. They ordered a large Uber and told the driver the name of the hotel they wished to visit. Then they sat on the edge of their seats.
The driver told them it would be a drive of fourteen minutes.
Mason hoped with all his heart that Marduk would still be there, waiting in his hotel room for the money to come through. There was no reason to think he might have left, no immediate threat to him. Marduk had to think he’d won. The only fly in the ointment was Cassadaga and what the thief might have told him about last night.
Could it be another trap?
Mason didn’t think so. Marduk was entirely too full of his own importance to think of luring them with an alias. The taxi sped along the relatively quiet roads. Mason’s heart beat fast. Soon, the car was pulling up outside Marduk’s hotel, a grand mix of modern, fresh, elegant and old-world. The team jumped out of the taxi and then started up a set of the stairs, finally pushing their way into the lobby. It was open and roomy inside, the check-in desk situated across a wide marble floor. Mason ignored it, trying to look like he belonged. He strode across the lobby to the elevators.
‘Room 119,’ Sally said. ‘First floor.’
Mason nodded. He already knew. The team made ready as the door closed and the lift travelled the short distance. Out in the plush-carpeted corridor, they followed the wall plaques to their target room, saying nothing. On the way, Mason saw a used tray and a metal food dish sitting over a used plate. He grabbed it all up in his left hand. When they arrived, Mason and Roxy removed their guns and took point.
Roxy did a three-countdown on the fingers of her free left hand.
‘Breakfast, sir,’ Mason shouted, knocking at the door and holding the tray up to the peephole so that it blocked out everything else.
He heard nothing at all for long seconds, but then a voice shouted from the other side. ‘I didn’t order any breakfast.’
Marduk. Undoubtedly, Marduk.
Mason reared back, then leapt at the door, his right foot lifted. He kicked out as he reached it, putting all his strength into the onslaught. The door splintered under force, rocking back into the room. Mason staggered to the left, dropped the tray and fell, striking the doorframe with a crash. Roxy didn’t stand on ceremony; she just clambered over him and rushed into the room.
Quaid and Hassell rushed in behind her. Mason dragged himself up off the floor and, seconds later, his shoulder pounding in pain where he’d collided with the doorframe, followed them into Marduk’s room.
It was chaos. Marduk was there, stumbling back down the corridor towards the bedroom. The man had a shocked and angry look on his face and was limping badly. He wore a shirt and black trousers, the shirt unbuttoned to the waist. Roxy’s gun targeted his chest.
‘Stop, asshole,’ she said.
They’d captured him. Mason felt elation, although he wasn’t surprised to find Marduk waiting for his money to be transferred. The madman had to wait somewhere – where better than in all this luxury.
Mason strode down the hallway as Marduk backed up. The room was well lit, sunlight flooding through the far windows.
‘Be careful–’ Mason began.
As they entered the bedroom area, shadows flew across the room. It wasn’t that his team weren’t prepared for it, it was that the shadows hit so fast and expertly.
Something struck Roxy from the left and she staggered against the wall, maintaining her grip on the gun. Behind her, Quaid was also struck and went sprawling to the floor. Further back, Mason could make out what happened.
Two figures who knew exactly what they were doing had attacked his friends from their blind sides. Marduk was far from alone in this hotel room.
Daga and Ivana were with him.
Mason aimed his gun at Daga. ‘Stand down.’
Behind him, Sally was coming through the doorway, her own gun drawn. Hassell had his back to the wall, covering Ivana. There wasn’t a moment to take a breath. Daga reached down, stamped on Quaid’s arm and wrenched the gun from his hand.
‘After you,’ he said in a voice dripping with malice.
Ivana threw her weight on Roxy’s spine, making the American cry out loud. Still, she held on to the gun, rolling under Ivana’s weight and striking out at her. Mason sighted on Daga.
Tension crackled between them.
‘Drop the gun,’ Mason said.
‘I’d rather fire it,’ Daga said. ‘But I don’t do guns.’
Impossibly quick, Daga threw it at Mason. Then he reached down, grabbed Quaid and put a knife to the man’s throat. ‘Now,’ he said. ‘You put your gun down.’
Quaid struggled, but Daga had him in a vice-like grip. The older man could barely move and, when he did, the edge of the knife pressed into his flesh.
‘Don’t do it,’ Quaid gasped.
Marduk had reached the far side of the bedroom, expression wild, and was scrabbling around a coffee table back there as if searching for something. Mason hoped it wasn’t another gun.
‘If I shoot …’ he warned Daga.
‘He dies,’ the thief said.
‘No. You die.’
Ivana was gripping Roxy’s wrist that held the gun. She was squeezing hard. The two women tussled on the floor. Mason concentrated on Daga. He knew there was no morality there, no sense of right and wrong, only the cold-blooded conscience of a malignant killer. In fact, it was worse than that. Mason believed Daga did know right from wrong, but delighted in the evils he performed.
It was Marduk who broke the deadlock. The man brought up a gun of his own, held it out, and started limping forward. The gun shook badly in his hand, travelling unconsciously from Daga to Mason. Mason’s first instinct was to shoot the madman.
But Marduk opened fire first. The bullet ploughed through the air between Daga and Mason, smashed into the door and blew splinters out into the corridor. The gunshot was loud in the hotel room, punishing Mason’s ears like tank fire. He fell to the floor. At the same time, Daga rose, getting in between Marduk and Mason, and dragging Quaid with him. The older man struggled, but was no match for Daga’s brute strength.
Marduk yelled out a warning. ‘Move out of the fucking way!’
Daga smirked. ‘Now,’ he said. ‘Watch.’
And he started drawing his blade across Quaid’s neck. Mason’s heart jumped into his throat. He saw the blood start to flow. He tried to aim the gun, but Daga was hidden behind Quaid. There was only one option available.
Mason would have to shoot Quaid.
He squeezed the trigger. In that instant, Marduk, in his madness, reached Daga and sought to elbow the thief aside just so that he could get a bead on Mason.
Daga wasn’t expecting it. The knife slipped away. Quaid wrenched himself from Daga’s grip, falling to one knee. Mason saw the disorder erupting between Marduk and Daga. He could have opened fire, but the confusion was too intense. Nobody knew what was going to happen next, and a lone bullet could hit anyone. Quaid was struggling. Hassell was darting in from the right. Daga was staggering as Marduk pushed past him, gun still wavering.
Mason ran at the gun.
An instant before Marduk opened fire for the second time, Mason grabbed his wrist and wrenched it towards the floor. He wanted to break it but didn’t have the angle. The gun ripped from Marduk’s grip, though. Mason unbalanced the limping man with ease, and then threw him aside, discarded rag, straight at Hassell, who caught hold of his shirt and spun him right into the wall. Mason now faced Daga.
The thief slashed, but Mason was already past him. He wanted to free Roxy, even the odds a bit. He kicked Ivana in the spine, sending the woman lurching forward and over the top of Roxy’s head. The impact knocked the gun from Roxy’s hand, but she could sit up. Mason got a quick snapshot of the melee as he turned.
Sally was standing by the door, which was still half open. She had a gun in her hand but didn’t know where to aim it. She couldn’t open fire. There was too much chance of collateral damage. Quaid was undeterred by what had happened to him and was starting back towards Daga. The thief was turning with the knife in his hand, eyes locked firmly on Mason. Hassell had changed tack and was now angling for Ivana, stepping around Roxy. The American herself was kneeling upright, taking in the chaos.
Marduk was shouting at everyone, the gun still swinging in his hand.
Mason flung himself to the floor. The action seemed to galvanise Daga into doing something besides attacking. With a grimace he whirled, caught hold of Marduk’s gun hand and twisted it, relieving him of the weapon.
‘Idiot,’ he said. ‘You will kill us all.’
Mason used the precious few seconds to act. This was no longer a point and shoot situation. He’d freed Roxy; the American was already confronting Ivana. Now, Daga was coming at him. Before Daga could get there, Hassell turned and attacked. Daga lashed out, striking Hassell, but the American was ready and blocked the attack, ducked and came at Daga from a low angle. He rose with his head, smashing his skull into the side of Daga’s face. Daga staggered into the left wall. Hassell was on him in less than a second.
But Daga was ready. He loved and embraced the pain. It didn’t bother him. He slipped down under Hassell’s attack and jabbed the man in the ribs and then the kidneys. He rolled, giving himself space, then leapt to his feet just as Mason reached him.
Mason was ready. He balled his right hand into a fist and used every ounce of training and experience he had to throw a punch at Daga’s jaw. It struck hard and true, sent the thief backwards and straight down to the floor.
Daga lay supine, out cold, not moving.
Mason’s fist hurt, his knuckles throbbed, but he didn’t acknowledge the pain. With one proper punch, he’d laid the scourge of the world out. Daga had seen it coming too, but could not dodge out of the way. Mason took a few seconds to make sure the thief wasn’t bluffing and then turned. Marduk was staring at him as if he was an antichrist or, in Marduk’s mind, maybe Jesus Christ. Ivana was engaged with Roxy, neither having seen Daga go down. Mason moved on to the next job.
Marduk.
The leader of the Amori held up a hand as if in warning.
‘Stay away from me.’
‘Why? Your little bodyguard’s out for the count.’
‘I am the monarch of the—’
‘Yeah, yeah, blah, blah, the monarch of who-gives-a-fuck. I know. Y’see, mate …’ Mason moved towards him. ‘I just don’t care.’
Marduk covered up, cowering. He wasn’t the monarch Mason had first come up against. He didn’t have the defiance, but then he also didn’t have a powerful organisation at his back. ‘You’re going back to jail,’ Mason said. ‘But first … what do you have planned?’
A smirk crossed Marduk’s face. ‘We meet again, you and I,’ he said, completely ignoring the question.
‘Yeah, the last time didn’t go so well for you.’
‘You shot me like a coward. You brought cowards with you, sinners all. Those who believe in dead things. Jesus, the saviour, the redeemer. The Holy Spirit,’ Marduk spat. ‘It is all so many lies. Only the Amori and the Creed show the right and true way. Ours is the only gospel that matters and this, you will see.’
Mason shook his head. ‘I don’t care.’
By now, Roxy and Ivana were struggling hard. Hassell came in behind Ivana and took her out at the knees, sending her to the floor. Quaid was there to help, too. Mason saw the fight coming to an end.
And then, incredibly, Daga rose to his feet.