Juggernaut

Toon wriggled on blue Nitrile gloves. He peeled surgical tape and gently removed the pus-stained dressing from Huang’s neck.

Black, suppurating flesh. Strange metallic spines. He tried to hide his disgust.

Toon pinched one of the spines. He tried to pull it free. He pricked his forefinger.

‘Shit.’

He examined his finger. He watched a bead of blood spread beneath the latex membrane.

He dabbed Betadine on to the neck wound. Huang hissed in pain. Toon taped a wad of gauze over rotting flesh.

‘How’s it looking?’

‘Your neck looks pretty chewed up. Might need a graft. You’ll have a bad-ass scar, but that’s okay. Something to talk about in bars. Seriously. This baby could get you laid.’

‘Yeah.’

‘Or you could wear some kind of black silk scarf round your neck. Make it your trademark. You got to turn it around, kid. Put it to work.’

Huang looked down at his arm.

‘Turning yellow. Frigging jaundice.’

‘You’re Korean, you dumb fuck. You were born yellow.’

Toon took a hypo pen from the map pocket of his ballistic vest and bit the cap. He jabbed Huang’s thigh and pressed the plunger. Huang smiled, blissed out.

Toon stepped away from the chopper, made sure he was out of earshot. He pressed transmit.

‘Boss. Do we have the gold?’

‘Yeah.’

‘We better load and get out of here. Huang is pretty fucked up. Smells like gangrene. We have to get him back to The Zone.’

‘We’re stacking the quad. Tell Gaunt to get ready to fly.’

Toon fired a fresh tetracycline shot into Huang’s bicep. Huang winced and stirred.

‘Rest. Don’t fight the morphine. Roll with it.’

He peeled off latex gloves and patched his bleeding finger.

He gazed at the ruins. Moonlight cast chilly phosphorescence over the blocks and pillars, the oppressive towers and ramparts. Deep chiselled hieroglyphs bled shadow.

‘You ain’t dying in this God-awful place, kid. I promise you that.’

Toon called Raphael.

‘Hey. Smiler. Help me strap him down.’

They strapped the stretcher to tether-rings in the aluminium floor of the Huey.

‘There you go. Be flying for real soon enough.’

Raphael glanced at Gaunt. Gaunt gave a discreet nod of the head.

Raphael climbed out of the chopper and backed away, trying to act casual.

Outside, Gaunt adjusted his grip on the Sig and fought to control his heart rate. He was sweating, despite the cold night air.

Safety to Off.

Toon finished tightening belts. He balled a combat jacket and put it behind Huang’s head as a pillow.

‘You okay, kid?’

Huang gave a dreamy smiled and nodded.

‘Get you home soon as we can. I’ll give you another shot once we get in the air. You’ll wake up in clean sheets.’

Toon jumped from the chopper.

‘What’s your top speed?’ he asked. ‘How soon can you get us back to Baghdad?’

‘Afraid you won’t be making the trip,’ said Gaunt.

He brought the pistol from behind his back and aimed at Toon’s face.

Toon looked down the silenced barrel of an automatic pistol. Astonishment quickly turned to dread. A shuddering exhalation. A strength-sapping wave of fear. He was a dead man.

‘Do it, Ese,’ urged Raphael.

Gaunt’s hand trembled. He swallowed hard.

Toon locked eyes with Gaunt.

‘Fuck you,’ he whispered.

Gaunt shot him through the right eye. Compressed thud. A soft-nose NyTrilium hollow point. The low-penetration round mushroomed inside Toon’s head and blew out the back of his skull like a shotgun blast.

Huang was spattered with blood, brain tissue and fragments of cranium.

‘What the fuck?’ he murmured, barely conscious. He tried to sit. He was held down by straps.

Toon toppled into the chopper cargo compartment. He lay across Huang’s legs. He trembled. Last impulses from a shattered nervous system. His left hand twitched a couple of times like he was shaking out cramp, then he was still.

Gaunt looked round the nose of the chopper. He checked they were unobserved. He looked up the processional avenue to the temple entrance. Light shafted from within. No sign of Lucy or Voss.

‘Help me shift the body,’ said Gaunt.

They grabbed Toon’s arms. They dragged him from the Huey doorway.

They hauled Toon to the pile of garbage thrown from the chopper. They threw him down. They covered him in a canvas sheet and a couple of discarded bench seats.

‘We’ll take them together. We’ll wait until they return to the choppers. They’ll start loading gold. I’ll take Lucy. You take the Boer. Empty a full clip into the fucker. Make sure he is down for good.’

‘Be a pleasure.’

‘After that, we find Mandy and shut her down for good. Jabril hasn’t got much fight in him. He won’t be a problem.’

Raphael unslung his rifle and chambered a round. He walked back to the chopper.

Huang struggled to release the straps that held him lashed to the stretcher. He curled his wrist and thumbed open a flip-latch. The chest restraint slackened. He released the straps holding his waist and legs.

He drew his Glock as Raphael stepped into view. He struggled to focus. He struggled to aim.

He fired. The pistol kicked in his hand.