The barrel of a rifle poked out from the warehouse doors. Ryker stood still, waited. The man had no other option: he had to come out into the open if he wanted to find Ryker and the Red Cobra. As soon as Ryker spotted an inch of the man’s head, he fired another shot. The man crumpled.
A blast of automatic fire rattled the warehouse wall. A series of bullet holes opened up in the metal exterior right where Ryker was standing. He ran for cover over to the nearby containers, bullets ricocheting all around him.
Ryker flung himself to the ground and rolled into a crouch up against the containers. Not even a second later, he was moving quickly around the side, back towards the darkness. And was taken by surprise when he almost walked head-on into the barrel of a handgun.
Luckily, the man holding it was even more shocked than Ryker. That split second cost the man his life. Ryker thrust his fist up and crashed it into the man’s nose then fired a single shot as the man reeled backwards.
But the noise of Ryker’s attack had given away his position. He took another barrage of fire from the unseen attacker with the rifle, and retreated further into the maze of containers.
The gunfire stopped. Ryker moved quickly and methodically back around to the front. He wasn’t going to run and hide. He wanted to take charge and come back on the remaining men from behind.
Ryker heard more screams. Male. He couldn’t see where they had come from, but the Red Cobra was certainly still out there. Still on the attack.
There was a moment of silence, of stillness, as the rain died down. For a few seconds, Ryker wondered whether all the men were dead. He darted out from his position and headed back to the warehouse wall. He caught sight of the man with the rifle and, without hesitation, lifted his gun to fire.
Then Ryker saw her. Again, she was nothing more than a shadow as she swept across the man. Just about the only part of her that was clearly visible was the glint of her knife. Ryker opened fire. At both of them. He hit the man, at least once. The Red Cobra? He couldn’t be sure. But Ryker soon realised he’d used up the remainder of his bullets. And he didn't have another magazine.
He cagily moved forward, towards the fallen man, his eyes set on the man’s rifle. He could neither see nor hear anything of the Red Cobra. Then Ryker stopped.
In front of him, he heard banging. Metal. Ryker continued to inch forward, moving with caution. The sound kept on coming. From the crashed van a few yards ahead.
Suddenly its back doors flew open, and a figure collapsed to the ground. Ryker picked up his pace. The rifle was just a few steps away from him. The figure rolled over. A man. He got to his feet. His face was caught in the light coming from inside the warehouse. Thick, dark blood covered one side of his head, but there was no mistaking who it was. Sergei.
The Vor looked up and Ryker knew he’d been spotted. The smile on Sergei’s face told him so.
The fallen man, rifle in his dead hand, was five yards from Ryker. Sergei was the same distance beyond. Ryker knew Sergei had spotted the weapon too. Both men sprang forward. Ryker wanted that rifle, but there was no way he’d get there and fire it before Sergei was on him. In the end, Ryker opted to go for his foe instead.
A good choice because that was Sergei’s aim too.
Ryker hurled himself through the air and smacked into Sergei. The two men fell to the ground. Ryker knew he had the size and strength to give him the upper hand – if he could just keep Sergei’s attacks at bay. But as he’d expected, Sergei was far from a fighting novice. As the men grappled for control, the Vor delivered quick blows to Ryker’s side, then wormed his way out from underneath.
Both men jumped back to their feet and squared off. They side-stepped around an imaginary circle, each waiting for the other to move. Ryker was the one to break the truce. He burst forward, intending on delivering a roundhouse punch that would surely floor Sergei.
But Sergei saw it coming. He feinted then swivelled and swiped Ryker off his feet. Ryker landed on the ground with a thud. He was dazed.
Then he spotted the rifle. Right there next to him.
He reached out for it. Sergei saw what was coming, and he darted over, lifted his boot, and kicked away the rifle. Then he set himself up to finish Ryker off with a heel to the face.
No chance. Ryker grabbed Sergei’s leg and bolted, lifting the Vor’s foot into the air. The momentum sent Sergei’s body tumbling backwards and Ryker threw himself down on top of his enemy once more.
This time he wasn’t letting him go. Ryker didn’t give Sergei a second to recover. He grabbed Sergei’s head and smashed it off the tarmac. There was a loud crack. Ryker did it again and Sergei’s eyes rolled. Ryker was set to deliver a third blow that would surely finish Sergei for good when he was distracted by the sound of movement behind him.
The Red Cobra.
Ryker spun, moving off Sergei and into a defensive position. He expected to see the shadow. Perhaps the glint of her knife.
So he was surprised when what he actually saw was the black butt of a rifle, moving quickly towards him.
Not the Red Cobra after all.
But it was too late for Ryker to do anything as the butt smashed into his face.
CHAPTER 57
Ryker came to when his head jarred against something hard. He opened his eyes. It was dark. Noisy. Another jolt, and his face smashed off a metallic surface just inches away. It took Ryker’s battered brain a few moments to calibrate and realise where he was.
The boot of a car.
He couldn’t see a thing, could barely move in the cramped space. His wrists were strapped together. His ankles too. Rope? Tape? He had so little room to manoeuvre, he couldn’t be sure.
Wherever they were headed, it was one hell of a bumpy road. The car jumped up on its suspension every few seconds. Ryker could do nothing to stop his head and body from bouncing and crashing all over the place. He could only guess from the bumps and the grinding noise of the tyres that they were travelling over a dirt track – back to the ranch where he’d earlier been spying?
Eventually the car came to a stop and the engine went dead. Ryker prepared himself, even though in his hog-tied state he knew he had little chance of launching an immediate counter-attack.
A chance would come though. It had to.
The boot opened and for a couple of seconds, Ryker was blinded by a bright light directly above him. When he finally focussed, he saw it was a spotlight high up on a metal pole. Another industrial yard?
Standing above Ryker were two men. He didn’t recognise either. One held a shotgun, the barrel of which he pointed at Ryker’s head. The other man reached in, grabbed Ryker under his armpits and half lifted, half dragged Ryker from the car.