The Secret of Excalibur_A Novel

  Nina—

  She was on the opposite side of the balcony, watching as Mitchell fought the Russian in the long coat.

  One of Zakhar’s kicks finally broke through the American’s defenses, a heel smashing into Mitchell’s shin. He lurched, face twisting with pain. He knew another blow would be coming and tried to raise his arms to intercept it, but not quickly enough. Zakhar plowed his knuckles into Mitchell’s throat. He collapsed, choking.

  “Jack!” Nina cried, but the Russian stepped over him, one hand smoothing his long hair. He looked down at the broken weapon she was clutching.

  “Hello, sexy lady,” he said. “Give me sword, please.”

  Nina backed away. “I’d rather not.”

  He pouted theatrically, running his hand through his hair once more. “Okay, I ask again.” He pulled out his gun and pointed it at her. “Now give me sword. Please.”

  Nina hesitated, and heard a sudden clash of metal—from above.

  She looked around, as did Zakhar—who was abruptly swept off his feet as Chase, swinging from a chandelier, scooped him up between his legs and sent him flying through one of the stained-glass windows. He screamed as he fell, the shriek abruptly truncated by a breathless “Oof!” as he slammed down on the roof of an outbuilding in the courtyard.

  Chase had problems of his own. He was already spinning back out over the hall—and a sharp crack from above warned him that the chandelier was about to pull loose from the ceiling.

  He flung himself at the other balcony …

  And fell short.

  Chase grabbed desperately at a tapestry as the chandelier tore free and smashed to the ground. One hand caught the edge of the thick cloth. Flailing for another handhold, he dangled from the tapestry some fifteen feet in the air …

  Rrrrrrip.

  “Oh, shit.” The cloth was tearing away from the beam on which it was hung. Even as he watched, the ragged gap raced across the width of the tapestry. “Oh, shit!”

  Chase swung wildly as the tapestry tore. He was heading right at Maximov, whose arms were eagerly raised to grab and crush him—

  He slammed his outstretched legs into Maximov’s chest.

  There was a thud of impact, then Chase fell painfully to the floor. His kick had only knocked Maximov back, not down. The Russian was a bearded Terminator, seemingly invincible.

  Nina ran over the shards of broken glass to help Mitchell. “Are you okay?”

  “Won’t be singing in the choir for a while,” he wheezed, rubbing his bruised throat. “Where’s the sword?”

  Nina held it up. “Right here.”

  “Eddie?”

  “Oh, Christ.” Chase was scrambling on his back along the floor below, Maximov stomping after him. “Come on!” She vaulted over Mitchell and ran down the stairs as the Russian grabbed Chase and yanked him up like a child.

  The armor she had knocked over was scattered across the steps, the man it had hit on all fours, just recovering. The Skorpion was inches from his hand. He looked up as he heard Nina’s footsteps—

  She swung the knight’s shield at his head. There was a ringing thud of metal against bone, and he dropped to the floor. Another of Vaskovich’s mercenaries stood nearby, both hands clamped over his bloodied face; another swing, another clang, and he too went down.

  Nina threw away the dented shield and picked up the gun. Across the hall, Maximov was busy slamming Chase repeatedly against a pillar. “Hey!” she shouted.

  Maximov turned his head, saw the gun—and threw Chase at her like a balding missile.

  She tried to dodge, but he hit her shoulder, sending them both to the ground. The gun went off as she fell. The bullet ricocheted off something with a high-pitched twang.

  Nina opened her eyes to see Maximov looking up cross-eyed at his own forehead. For a moment, a dull sheen of metal was visible behind the torn skin before blood flowed over it, dripping onto his nose. The huge Russian’s knees trembled and he slumped onto his backside with a thump. A vacant grin spread across his face.

  It dawned on Nina that, for the moment, they had taken down all their opponents. But the buzz of a helicopter outside the broken window told her how the Russians had entered the castle—and that there were still others. “Come on, Eddie,” she said, pulling him up, “gotta go, gotta go!”

  Mitchell reached the bottom of the stairs, regarding the two fallen men with surprise. “You did that?” he asked her, voice hoarse.

  “I’m a real bitch when anyone messes with my man,” she said, grinning.

  They ran outside and crossed the courtyard, seeing that the castle’s gates were now open. Two more trucks were parked near their SUV.

  “That was some pretty fancy martial arts back there,” Nina said to Mitchell as they reached the Suburban. “Eddie usually just punches people.”

  Mitchell rubbed his throat again. “Not fancy enough.” He got into the driver’s seat, Nina helping her battered fiancé into the back before running around the truck and hopping in the passenger seat. “Call the cops,” Mitchell told her, tossing her his phone.

  A shadow swept over them, the roar of the helicopter echoing through the courtyard as the Suburban set off. Chase tracked the aircraft as the SUV passed through the gates. “Chopper’s coming around.”

  Nina looked up. “You think they’ve got guns?”

  A snowbank at the roadside suddenly burst apart as a line of small explosions stitched through it. The helicopter buzzed overhead before pulling up sharply to turn for another pass. “Never mind!” She shoved the sword hilt inside her jacket, fastened her seat belt and raised the phone. “What’s the emergency number in Austria?”

  “One three three,” Mitchell told her, braking hard as the SUV approached the first hairpin turn. Even with four-wheel drive, the big vehicle still fishtailed on the snow.

  “Jesus, watch it!” Chase warned. “You don’t want to roll us over—”

  Bullet holes punched through the SUV’s hood with a plunk-plunk-plunk of cratered metal, followed a fraction of a second later by a bang as one of the front tires blew out. The shredded wheel bit into the road surface, spinning the entire truck around and slamming it broadside-on into a bank of plowed snow. The Suburban flipped over onto its roof, slithering to a halt at the very brink of a steep, snow-covered slope.

  “Told you,” said Chase after a moment of silence.

  He and Mitchell were both now on the cabin’s erstwhile ceiling. Nina awkwardly hung suspended by her seat belt, ponytail swishing back and forth against the roof beneath her. Through the cracked windshield, all she could see were the dizzyingly inverted mountains across the valley and a blank white expanse dropping away to a thin line of trees—and what looked like a cliff edge just beyond them.

  Chase, surrounded by the scattered items that had fallen from the SUV’s now open emergency compartment, peered out of the rear window. As well as the helicopter, he could hear another sound, a harsh rasp.

  Rapidly growing louder.

  “Staumberg’s snowmobiles,” he said. “They’re coming after us.”

  Mitchell looked outside. “Where did the chopper go?”

  “Dunno, but it sounds like it’s coming back.”

  “Then we’d better get out of this thing,” said Nina. She put one hand against the ceiling to support herself as best she could and raised the other to the seat-belt release—

  Chase realized what she was about to do. “Nina, wait!”

  Too late.

  The buckle popped free, and Nina dropped heavily onto the roof …

  The SUV shifted.

  “Oh, bollocks,” Chase said as the overturned 4×4 tipped over the edge of the slope.

  FOURTEEN

  Nina stared in horror as the landscape through the windshield tilted sharply and started moving past her.

  “Nice one!” Chase shouted sarcastically.

  “Don’t start! I didn’t know that would happen!”

  Mitchell grappled with his door handle. “It’s jammed
. The frame’s bent.”

  Nina tried her door, but with the same lack of result. Snow slid past the window as they picked up speed. Behind her, Chase crawled toward the rear door. “I’ll open the tailgate. Jack! Find the bonnet release!”

  “What?”

  “The hood, the hood release! It’ll drop down and act like a brake!”

  Mitchell hunted for the lever as Chase batted aside the coiled tow cable dangling from the emergency compartment. The roof shuddered beneath him as the SUV bumped over the snow.

  “Got it!” Mitchell shouted. He pulled the lever and the hood slammed down in front of the windshield, its broad front edge digging into the snow. The Suburban slowed, but didn’t stop. Snow sprayed up from each side of the hood, gravity and three tons of upside-down truck continuing to drag them down the mountainside.

  “Shit, we’re spinning!” Nina shouted. The hood was scooping up snow unevenly, slewing the SUV around. The trees farther down the slope drifted into view through her side window.

  An idea flashed through her mind. She squeezed under her seat’s headrest, straining to reach the handle of the door behind her.

  Chase reached the rear door and tugged the handle. The tailgate popped open; he braced himself and pushed it down like a drawbridge.

  A sound reached him over the thumps of the truck’s descent—engines, rasping and raw. Snowmobiles.

  And the helicopter, swooping down to pass them.

  Nina pulled the handle. The rear door opened slightly. She forced it wider. Snow spat into the cabin, biting at her eyes. Wincing, she pushed harder as the Suburban continued to turn sideways, picking up speed …

  It swung back, the door acting as a rudder. They straightened out, slowing again as the hood gouged into the snow—

  The open door hit something under the snow and the window burst apart. Nina shrieked and jumped away. But her idea had worked, and the Chevrolet was back in a straight line—for now.

  A large bump threw Nina and Mitchell against the seats, loose items bouncing around them as the slope steepened. Even with their makeshift brake, they were still gaining speed. She looked back and saw Chase clambering onto the open tailgate. She thought he was going to jump off, but instead he leaned forward, reaching for something on the SUV’s underside. “Eddie! What’re you doing? Jump, get off!”

  Squinting into the spraying snow, Chase had no intention of jumping, however. Instead he reached up over the rear bumper for the spare wheel mounted under the cargo bed, all the while aware that the top of the cliff was rapidly getting closer.

  The helicopter moved into a hover past the cliff edge, wanting a grandstand view of their deaths. And from behind, Chase heard the rattle of automatic weapons fire, the snowmobilers trying to bring them about even sooner—

  The Suburban hit a rock hidden beneath the snow, throwing the entire vehicle into the air. It crashed down nose first, ripping the hood loose. The windshield shattered. The SUV immediately picked up speed on its hellish sled run down the mountain.

  Nina fought her way up the cabin as snow flew all around her. Chase had somehow managed to keep hold, silhouetted in the open tailgate. “Eddie!” she yelled. “Save yourself, jump!”

  He crouched. “Not without you!” Another side window exploded as the truck smashed over a rock. “Give me that line!”

  Nina used the headrests to pull herself along. The tow cable hanging from the emergency compartment twitched crazily at every bump, just out of reach. She stretched for it …

  Bullets clanked against the Suburban’s flank, one of them piercing the thin steel and hitting the seat above her with a whump. She flinched, then grabbed for the cable as it continued its mocking dance. This time, she caught it.

  She used it to pull herself closer, then untangled it. Chase leaned into the cabin, arm outstretched. Nina reached out for him …

  “Oh, shit,” said Mitchell in a voice of imminent doom. Chase looked ahead. The line of trees was coming up fast—as was the cliff edge just beyond. “Whatever you’re doing, do it now!”

  Chase’s gaze met Nina’s.

  With a final effort, she lunged forward. Chase snatched the cable from her hand and straightened, the wind slashing at his face as he leaned over the rear bumper. He had already freed the spare wheel from its recess; now he rapidly uncoiled the cable and threaded one end between the alloy spokes before knotting it.

  Another window shattered, snow and glass showering around his legs. He ignored it, tying the other end of the cable around the SUV’s tow hook. The tree-line was only seconds away—

  He hurled the spare wheel.

  It spun off to one side, the cable snaking behind it. Snow sprayed into the air as it bounced down the slope parallel to the Suburban.

  The cable snapped taut, whipping the spare wheel around the trunk of a tree once, twice, before it smashed into the bark. The SUV suddenly jerked around, sweeping across the cliff top at the end of the line, so close to the edge that there was nothing below the frame of the broken windshield but empty space. Nina screamed as centrifugal force tore loose her grip and threw her toward the hole—

  Mitchell’s hand clamped around her wrist.

  The Suburban continued along its arc, swinging back up the slope. One of the snowmobilers had swerved to avoid the trees—now he found three tons of battered steel whooshing straight at him like a giant’s hammer.

  The two vehicles collided, the sheer momentum of the SUV swatting the lightweight snowmobile backward. The rider was flung skyward as its rear end flipped up. He somersaulted over the Suburban, over the cliff …

  And into the blades of the hovering helicopter.

  The man instantly became nothing but a red haze spraying out from the whirling rotor. The helicopter reeled from the impact. Its nose dipped sharply, pulling the aircraft into a steep descent despite the pilot’s desperate attempts to level out.

  Rotor blades slashed against the sheer rocks, shattered—

  The helicopter plowed into the cliff, smashing the cabin and its occupants flat before the rest of the fuselage tumbled down the wall and exploded.

  Chase finally lost his hold, thrown from the tailgate into the snow as the SUV swung around the tree. It hit a rock broadside-on, caving the roof in and rolling the Suburban back onto its side. Its wheels dug into the snow, flipping it upright and bouncing it into the air—

  The second snowmobiler had stopped his stolen vehicle short of the cliff, only to be smacked from his seat as the Suburban tumbled over it at chest height. He hit the ground, and the SUV landed on top of him. Roof crushed, chassis bent, it finally slid to a stop, upside down once again.

  Chase shakily stood and picked his way across the steep slope. He passed the idling snowmobile and reached the wreckage of the Suburban, a long red smear marking where the rider had been scraped along beneath it. “Nina! Nina! Are you okay?”

  No reply. He crouched and looked inside.

  The flattened interior was filled with snow and dirt. He peered around the seats. “Nina!”

  Movement from the front. “Eddie?” grunted Mitchell, dazed.

  “Jack! Where’s Nina?”

  “I dunno. I … I couldn’t keep hold of her.”

  A cold stone formed in the pit of Chase’s stomach. “Are you okay?” he asked, forcing himself to check on the closest person first when every part of his mind was screaming at him to search for Nina.

  “Think so … banged up, but I don’t think anything’s broken …”

  “Good. I’ll be right back.” Chase stood, looking for any sign of his fiancée.

  He stumbled around the wreck, eyes hunting desperately for anything that wasn’t white or brown or green. “Nina!” He turned, and kept turning, the mountainous landscape around him becoming a blur—

  Red.

  Not blood, but the subtler shade of her hair poking above a snowdrift a few yards away.

  He ran to it, snow crunching under his feet. Nina was sprawled on the cold ground, thrown out of the SUV
as it flipped over. She lay facedown, not moving.

  Chase dropped to his knees, feeling for signs of life—or death. It was impossible to pick out a heartbeat through her thick jacket, and he couldn’t even tell if she was breathing. His hands moved to her neck, brushing her ponytail aside as he pressed his fingertips under her chin. She was still warm to the touch, but he didn’t feel a pulse.

  His own heart racing, he tried a different spot.

  A pulse.

  He waited, holding his breath.

  Another, and another. Steady. Gasping in relief, Chase carefully supported her head and turned her onto her back. Her face was cut in several places, red lines running down her cheek and chin.

  He quickly unzipped her jacket. The sword hilt weighed down one side as he opened it, but he ignored the hunk of metal as he hunted for signs of other injuries. No blood, no spikes of broken bones as he ran his hands over her chest—

  “There’s … a time and a place for that, Eddie,” she whispered.

  Chase realized both his hands were on her breasts. Her eyes flickered open, and she managed a weak smile.

  “Hah!” gasped Chase, the exhalation somewhere between relief and annoyance. “Very fucking funny!” He withdrew his hands. “Are you hurt anywhere?”

  “I’m hurt everywhere … but I think I’m okay.” She tried to raise herself. “Ow, ow.” Chase helped her to sit up. She caught sight of the mangled Suburban nearby. “Oh my God! Where’s Jack? Is he all right?”

  An arm waved from the open tailgate in reply. Mitchell wormed his way between the seats of the overturned SUV into the cargo space. “I’m fine,” he called. “The sword! Have you still got the sword?”

  Nina pawed at her open jacket. “Shit, it was right—”

  “It’s here,” Chase told her, holding it up. “We’ve got it, don’t worry.”

  Mitchell crawled from the Suburban. He looked at the nearby cliff edge, and the swathe of snow the truck had scraped from it. “Jesus! That was close.”