78
Clay pressed a hand against the back of his neck, rubbing it slowly from side to side. A painful tightness had crept into the surrounding muscles. The wide triangular slabs of his trapezoids were tense and sore, the nerves in his neck raw. A raft of lesser pains seemed to take effect at once. He knew that the heat of combat was wearing off and his adrenalin levels were dipping. The burning sensation returned from the bullet that had creased his upper back.
Bunching his hands into tight fists, Clay flexed the muscles in his arms, chest and legs. Then he fixed his gaze on the roller door.
Skirting the SUV he found Barcelo’s Kimber pistol lying on the ground. He ejected the clip to find that only two rounds remained. “There’s never enough bullets,” he huffed.
With a grunt of determination, he started towards the base of the volcano. As he jogged towards the entry point he stopped focusing on the pain. He knew that he would hurt like a son of a bitch tomorrow and probably for the rest of the week, but tomorrow didn’t concern him. Danny did.
Choosing the right side of the portal, he pressed an ear against the corrugated metal. There was no noise from within. That could mean many things.
They could all be dead, Danny included.
They could be deeper within the structure, still stalking each other.
Or the Bosnians could be standing over the body of his dead brother.
He knew there was only one sure-fire way of finding out. He also knew there was a very good chance of being shot dead if his gamble failed to pay off. But Danny was inside and maybe in mortal danger.
“Aw crap!” Clay gripped the bottom of the door, the edge of the metal digging deep into his fingers and palms as he began to pull upwards. A harsh screech of protesting metal answered his exertions. The door raised slowly, inch by inch until he’d created a gap sufficient to roll under.
Clay was about to do so when a very familiar voice brought a smile to his face.
“Stay there, ya big ape. I’m coming out.”
Danny scooted beneath the door and nodded at Clay who was giving him the once-over.
“Three questions,” said Clay.
“Just three?”
“For starters.”
“Fire away.”
“One, are they all dead inside?”
“As disco dancin’ dodos,” Danny replied. He drew a finger across his throat to illustrate the point.
“Two, why the hell are you so wet? Did you stop off at the wave pool for a quick dip while I was doing all the real work?”
In response, Danny flicked some of the water at Clay and laughed. “Yeah, that’s it exactly. I clocked off early and thought, what the hell. Doofus!”
Clay raised his eyebrows.
“If you must know I ended up going all UFC inside a drainage sluice. Tough son of a bitch. Didn’t go down easy. I’m sure he was the leader of the Bosnian crew.”
“Ah, my ‘phone a friend’, I think. We had a chit-chat earlier. I’m not sure he really warmed to my telephone manner.”
Danny smiled. “That probably accounts for his foul mood. I’ve heard you on the phone. You could make Gandhi drop the F-bomb.”
“I know, it’s a talent. But don’t be so envious, you can be an irritating little jerk in your own right.”
“Bugger off.” Danny faked a punch at his brother. “Isn’t it time you went to New York and climbed the Empire State Building again?”
Clay thumped his chest gorilla-style. The muscles in the back of his neck sent out a brief flash of pain in way of protest.
“You said three questions,” said Danny. “Ask and be done with it.”
Clay frowned as he waited for the ache in the base of his skull to subside.
“You okay?” Danny reached out for his brother.
“Yeah, took a couple of knocks is all. Okay. Question three. How did you know it was me lifting the roller door? Could have been one of the bad guys.”
Danny shook his head. “In answer to question three of three, I’ll give you a two-part answer.”
“Please elucidate.”
“I will. Item one: who else is strong enough or dumb enough to rip a friggin’ steel roller door out of its moorings?”
Clay shrugged.
“Item two: I saw your boots. Nobody else I know has got feet that big, apart from Godzilla. Put two and two together and got you.”
“Nobody likes a smart ass.” Clay wiped a smear of blood from his eyebrow. “Anyhow, you can’t hit me with both King Kong and Godzilla jibes in one conversation. That’s just not right.”
Exchanging grimaces, Danny nodded at the pistol in Clay’s hand. “Nice Kimber. Don’t see so many of those around.”
“Yeah, nice piece of kit. Spanish Elvis had ideas of shooting me with it.”
“Barcelo? How did that work out for him?” asked Danny.
“Elvis left the building. And there won’t be a comeback special, that’s for sure.”
“Another member of the dodo club?”
“Unless they’ve perfected head transplants and I didn’t get the memo.” Clay made a popping sound with his pursed lips. “You think there’s any more left before we leave?”
“Dunno. I think it’s time we blew this popsicle stand anyway. Even out here in the sticks a local might have seen all the smoke and heard the gunfire. I don’t want to be here when the emergency services arrive.”
“I hear that.” Clay gave a mischievous smile. “Do you think it would be acceptable if we borrowed a vehicle from this fine collection of fellows?”
Danny cupped a hand to his ear. “I don’t hear any objections.”
“Alrighty then. Let’s mosey.”
They made their way to the Mercedes SUV. Danny paused for a moment as he took in the scene of carnage. “Jeez, Clay. What the hell?”
“Shit needed kickin’.”
“You don’t say.” Pointing to the impaled Locos, Danny added, “It’s probably best if we lose the hood ornaments.”
Without preamble or ceremony Clay gripped the rear of the two dead men by the shoulders. With one sharp tug and a brief screech of metal the two corpses dropped to the ground.
Danny cast a look at Barcelo. “He looks like he’s been dropped from a great height without a parachute.”
Clay shrugged. “You know what they say, can’t make an omelette…”
“Nice, the keys are still in the ignition. At least that worked in our favour.”
Clay climbed into the passenger seat. “You can drive.”
“I was planning to. Look what happened last time you were behind the wheel.”