Now Drake broke the mood with a cough. “Specters?”
Kelly shrugged. “P’raps it were me imagination. P’raps not. But something moved on that deck. All around me was a mist, slowly rising, and I couldn’t get no bearings. More than once I felt icy fingers at the nape of my neck. I struggled forward and the ship stayed still. Only now do I realize it was real, not an illusion. This was a tangible vessel, its creaking timbers not the stuff of supernatural nightmare. I approached its huge side and imagined I could see vaporous, impossibly long arms reaching down toward me — either to help me up or drag me into their cold embrace and an eerie doom.”
The old man sat back, swigging from the hip flask, and not even Smyth uttered a sound. Drake frowned as he evaluated the story. Take away all the embellishment and yes, such a thing was possible. But still…
“Still another story recounts of a Viking ship,” Kelly went on, to Drake’s surprise. “Described by the local American Indians as an open boat with round metal shields along its side, settled somewhere in the Badlands. Several people were given directions to its location but an earthquake prevented them from reaching the site, swallowing two of the party whole. If we do find the lost ship during our travels, guys, please be careful. Disaster always lurks close by any sighting.”
“How would you even know where to start?” Karin asked quietly, indicating the all-enveloping dark that lurked just outside the influence of the flames and seemed to creep closer with every passing second.
Kelly nodded at her, as if acknowledging an intelligent question. “This is my home, Miss. For many years I have lived here. It can change its appearance in the passing of a storm, as may you and I, but underneath everything is still the same.”
Drake wondered if that was really an answer, but Kelly at least appeared genuine. He noticed the man carried no belongings, no backpack. “You say you live out here?”
“I have an abode not too far away. I’ll be fine for a couple of nights.”
“Wouldn’t it have been easier to meet us at your house?”
“Me space is me own,” Kelly said. “And not to be blatantly publicized.”
“Fair enough.” Drake nodded. “So what’s next? We set out at first light?”
Kelly tipped the flask until no more liquid fell out. “Ya got any more of this?”
“No, mate. But I could warm you a plate of beans.”
Kelly wrinkled his face up. “I’ll pass. Unless—”
Suddenly Drake was up and on his feet, listening hard, as desert noises became scrambled and made no sense. The balance had been broken.
By someone.
Or something.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
They came over the dunes, descending on the small camp like desert apparitions; silent, black and lethal. Drake saw their intent, the weapons they carried — knives in hands that knew how to use them. He kicked at the fire, spreading glowing embers far and wide and spiraling up into the night. Smyth didn’t waste a second meeting the enemy dead on, engaging the first as he hit level ground and grappling for his weapon. Behind him Lauren took out a pistol. Drake met his first attacker, wincing at the thought of a shot ringing out in the desert silence — now that might wake the dead.
But Lauren wasn’t the first to fire. Gunfire shattered the dark. Bullets kicked up sand around his toes.
“Get among them!” he shouted.
There were snipers atop the dunes.
As they separated, more shots rang out. Drake ducked and made to drag Kelly along with him, but several bullets kicked up around the fire… and one slammed into the old man, knocking him onto his back. Blood flowed from a stomach wound. As he lay there, a split-second later another projectile hammered into him.
“No!” Drake struggled across to him.
Life had already left his eyes. His chest was still. Drake closed his own eyes for a second, but then his sense of imminent danger sang out — a soldier’s sixth and seventh sense.
Drake caught a knife thrust, averted it, and smashed its initiator on the bridge of the nose. Only a grunt came forth and the man wrenched his arm free, thrusting again. Drake sidestepped, caught him under the chin and tipped him backwards. His body hit the ground with a thud, slipping a little in the streaming sand. Drake was aware of another attacker at his side, registering a misstep even as he fought the first. Quickly, he diverted to the second, striking while the dark-clad man faltered, breaking his windpipe before he even knew he was a target. Drake then heard Yorgi’s warning shout, and glanced beyond the first attacker to see another man had launched himself into the air, using the slope to gain momentum. Drake hit the sand in less than a second. The man flew over, landed at Yorgi’s feet and one more gunshot rang out.
A frantic battle ensued. Drake kept his pistol tucked away and drew his own knife, dispatching two enemy combatants almost immediately. To his left Smyth followed suit. At Karin’s urging, still only minutes into the battle, they angled to the left where a smaller, unmanned sand dune offered a way out. Lauren used her pistol to pepper the top of the dunes, giving the snipers up there plenty to think about. Drake witnessed her lightning-quick magazine change and knew Smyth had spent many hours coaching her.
Not the most obvious way to impress a girl. But then Smyth is hardly typical.
He sidestepped at a rapid rate, taking care to allow for the unstable surface. A bulky figure came straight at him. Drake dipped and hurled the man past his right shoulder, straight into the remains of the fire. A bullet cleaved the air in front of his face, right where he would have been if he hadn’t taken time to deal with the larger figure. Karin was already near the top of the slope, taking risks, urging Smyth and Lauren after her. Yorgi fired into their pursuers. Drake made sure they gained several feet of clear ground.
“Run!” he cried.
With a last look at the old man’s motionless body, Drake pounded up the short slope, seeing Karin and Smyth flying over the top. Yorgi fired his pistol as he ran, but Drake urged him to concentrate on getting his head down and putting some distance between them and their attackers. The darkness around them became absolute as they escaped the vicinity of the still smoldering fire. Drake knew from earlier reconnaissance that running dead east from this position would lead them to a dried-up river bed within minutes. Hopefully Smyth remembered the same. Their pursuers thumped after them, some tangling with fallen bodies, others clearly unsure of their orders now that their quarry had escaped the net.
Drake saw now that there was a little illumination offered by a new sliver of moonlight, its eerie glow adding to the desert’s sinister appeal as it slipped between passing clouds, a hide-and-seek specialist. Smyth hit level ground and stopped to allow the group a chance to reform. Drake risked a look back, and saw dark bodies not far behind.
“We’ll lose them ahead,” Drake said, voice low, showing the way.
He pushed Karin, Lauren and Yorgi ahead, making sure at least two of them were armed, then brought up the rear with Smyth.
“How’d the Pythian assholes find us?” Smyth breathed.
“You think it’s the Pythians?”
“Who the fuck else could it be? They know we’re searching for the ship.”
Drake considered this as he ran. Nicholas Bell was leading this operation and had probably scouted the entire area for miles around, leaving spotters behind. Finding and gaining access to a lost desert ship wasn’t a small-scale operation — it was relatively huge and he’d want first-hand knowledge of any interlopers who might be heading his way.
It was a theory anyway.
The train of thought brought him back around to poor Kelly. Drake had wanted the old man to fulfill his dream of finding the lost galleon, and wondered briefly where his ‘abode’ might be. Somewhere close by. The Badlands out here were so unpredictable it might be an old dwelling or even a cave. He checked behind as they ran, and saw a bunch of darker night following them.