Kenji kicked again, but Mercer managed to block the shot with his arm. Kenji was thrown off balance by the move, giving Mercer precious seconds to regain his feet.
“Where are your Russian sponsors, anyway?” Mercer asked through gritted teeth as Kenji stalked around him.
Kenji gave a derisive laugh. “As dead as Ohnishi.”
He threw a combination punch at Mercer, the first blow knocking against Mercer’s skull and the other cracking two more ribs. Despite the pain, Mercer managed a counterpunch, but his fist felt like it merely bounced off the muscled cords of Kenji’s throat.
“Like Ohnishi, the Russians were pawns to be used and discarded by myself and my true allies.”
“The Koreans?” Mercer wheezed, understanding a bit.
“They have backed me for months in a double-cross against both Ivan Kerikov and Ohnishi.” Kenji wasn’t even breathing hard while Mercer was sucking in great draughts of air. “We triggered Ohnishi and Kerikov’s pathetic coup and shifted American interest away from the volcano and its mineral wealth. To Kerikov, the coup was a means to an end; for Ohnishi, it represents a lifelong dream. To us, it was simply a diversion.”
“You piggybacked onto Kerikov’s plan, took his idea and his agents for yourselves. Then it was you who rescued Tish Talbot from the Ocean Seeker?” Mercer had to keep Kenji talking in a vain hope that a SEAL was still alive to save him.
“As ordered by Kerikov for the benefit of Valery Borodin, I believe. But she has no use in my plan, so my allies hired some assassins to execute her in Washington.”
“Not quite.” Mercer managed a wry smile. “She is very much alive and well.”
“You?”
“Yes.”
“No matter, I’ll have her killed later on.”
“The fuck you will,” Mercer said, hatred giving him a reckless courage.
He dove at Kenji, slamming a shoulder into his chest. Both men flew backward, pounding into the wall hard enough to break away some of the plaster. Mercer recovered an instant before Kenji and fired three heavy punches into the older man’s muscled torso. Kenji grunted with each blow, but still had the strength to pick Mercer off his feet and toss him away. Mercer scrambled up as quickly as he could, his cracked ribs keeping him slightly doubled over.
“I thought killing Ohnishi would give me the greatest pleasure, but now I realize your death will be even better,” Kenji said menacingly as he came for Mercer.
Kenji’s kick contained every ounce of strength in his body. It was a killing blow. Mercer bent backward the instant Kenji’s foot rose, ignoring the pain that exploded in his chest with the movement. As he straightened back up, his hand reached for the Gerber knife suspended from his harness.
The steel pommel of the knife cracked against Kenji’s foot with all the strength Mercer had left. The blow shattered the delicate bones as though they were glass, checking Kenji’s attack. Mercer whipped the knife upward in a last desperate lunge. The tempered steel parted Kenji’s abdominal muscles, sliced through the tough membrane of his diaphragm, and punctured his left lung.
Kenji reeled back, yanking the knife from Mercer’s fingers. He stared down at the blade sticking from his chest with crazed and panicked eyes.
“You,” he sputtered, blood spraying with his word.
Mercer had fallen to the floor after his attack. He was too weak to rise, so when Kenji pulled the knife from his body and turned the bloody blade at him, he had no defense. The savagery was draining from Kenji as fast as his life’s blood, but he still had enough time to kill his last victim. Mercer lay sprawled like a temple sacrifice, arms at his sides, legs slightly parted. He could not avoid the blade plunging toward his chest.
The kinetic energy of the first bullet arrested Kenji’s downward thrust and nearly stood him upright. The second shot tore another hole through his chest, shredding his heart and damaged lung. The final shot blew out the back of his skull.
Mercer twisted around in time to see one of the SEALs, bloody and battered, fall to the floor. A full sixty seconds passed before Mercer recovered enough to get up and check on the wounded SEAL. When he turned him onto his back, Mercer was staggered. The man who had saved his life wasn’t a SEAL at all.
Through a mask of dried and caked blood the unknown man opened his one undamaged eye. “Spesivo.”
The use of Russian shocked Mercer for a second, then he understood.
“Kerikov.”
“No.” The man coughed up a bloody ball of phlegm and spat it on the floor. “I am Evad Lurbud, major in the KGB, Department Seven, and Ivan Kerikov’s assistant. Thank you for allowing me to kill that pig.”
“Where is Kerikov?” Mercer demanded sharply.
“Last I knew, he was headed toward Europe. Now, who knows? You are a member of the American Special Forces, yes?”
“I’m the guy who blew your entire operation.”
Lurbud chuckled painfully. “I doubt that. No man could stop every contingency we laid down.”
“I bet your men in New York wouldn’t agree with you.”
“That was you?”
Mercer smiled modestly. “It was nothing really. But it did lead to all sorts of interesting things, little things like disguised submarines named John Dory, man-made volcanoes, and long-dead scientists who do great Lazarus impressions.”
Mercer could tell that Lurbud was truly shocked to see how much he knew.
“You guys made just enough small errors for me to figure out your little caper.” Mercer ticked of each item on a finger. “When Tish Talbot was pulled aboard the John Dory, she saw the design on her stack and heard her crew speaking Russian. Then you used an OF&C ship for her official rescue, which made it easy to find the connection to the Grandam Phoenix, the ship you bastards started the whole operation with. And you didn’t watch Valery Borodin closely enough, since he managed to send off the telegram that got me involved. I guess you can ultimately blame him for your failure. Without that telegram, no one would have ever suspected a thing.
“Too bad that your agents here in Hawaii turned on you. It’s wise, when picking allies, to be certain of their true motivations. Ohnishi wanted an independent country more than he wanted the volcano, and Kenji, he must have had his reasons for bringing in those Koreans.” Mercer had retrieved his weapons and now had the MP-5 pointed at Lurbud’s chest.
“You can’t kill me.”
“Why in the hell not?” Mercer replied casually.
“If I don’t radio the John Dory in an hour and a half, she will launch a nuclear missile at the volcano.”
Mercer noticed the black radio pack wedged under Lurbud’s body. He jerked it out by its nylon strap and held it at arm’s length. Letting the Hechler & Koch dangle by its sling, he drew the Beretta, then calmly fired two rounds through the armored plastic shell. The radio sparked and smoked for a moment as it shorted completely.
He dropped the radio next to Lurbud’s head. “Any other bargaining chips?”
“I am a major in the KGB. I am worth much to the CIA.”
“Assuming I work for the CIA must be an infectious disease. You’re the third or fourth person to think that. Too bad.” Mercer aimed his pistol. “I’m a geologist,” he said as he fired the last round from the Beretta. “Not a spy.”
Mercer wearily started back down the gallery toward the main entrance of the house. He believed Lurbud about the nuclear threat from the John Dory. If Kenji and his Korean allies had somehow double-crossed Kerikov, he had no doubt that the Russian spymaster would reap some form of revenge. Destroying the volcano and the bikinium made the best sense. The hour and a half time limit would make things extremely tight.