The Curse of Medusa

They crouched low as they made their way along the pier on the east bank of the Hudson River. Then they used a line of rowan trees as cover as they drew nearer to the Perseus and reached the water-line.

Hawke slipped into the river first. He immediately felt the dark, cold water of the Hudson as it surrounded him. His years in the Special Boat Service meant if anywhere was home, then this was it, but he knew a US Secret Service agent like Doyle, and even to a certain extent Scarlet with her SAS background, wouldn’t be as comfortable underwater as he was. Diving was an unsettling experience for some even at the best of times, never mind in dark, cold, moving water at night, with explosives strapped to your back and the possibility of people shooting at you.

He held his breath and dived silently into the black water.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Vincent Reno paused at the entrance to the luxury Santa Monica beachfront estate and took a few seconds to take it all in. It was in the Spanish Colonial revival style, stretching right down to the beach. It didn’t seem the sort of place that would suit a militant German terrorist with a revenge obsession, but despite the ornate statues and carefully manicured gardens, he knew Angelika Schwartz and Alan Pauling were here. They had to stop them before they launched the drone and released the weaponized bacteria into the skies above America’s second largest city.

Kim Taylor finished briefing the SWAT team and joined Vincent at the hacienda’s outer gates. She whistled through her front teeth as she cast her eye over what she could see of the property through the black wrought-iron gates.

“Place like this must cost twenty million dollars,” she said, shaking her head.

Vincent nodded and smiled. “Amazing what a few arms deals can purchase…”

“Must have a hell of an ocean view out the back.”

Vincent gave a Gallic shrug and tipped his head. “I prefer the mountains.”

“You can have your mountains,” the American agent said. “I want to see that ocean view.”

“But this place is like Fort Knox,” Vincent said. “Are we going over the walls?”

Kim shook her head and grinned. “No, we’re doing it the fun way.”

“You give up the element of surprise?” asked the Frenchman with surprise.

“This is the surprise,” she said, as she ordered an explosive breaching of the gate. “They already know we’re here thanks to Pauling’s extensive surveillance,” she said, pointing to the cameras all over the property. “Plus the perimeter’s covered by our guys. This assault is about going in hard, fast and nasty.”

Vincent nodded his head in appreciation and flicked his cigarette into the impressive bank of blue agapanthus flowers swaying in the breeze along the outer wall. “I can do hard, fast and nasty.” He took a deep breath and looked up at the moon, now setting over the ocean. “Ce soir, la lune rêve avec une plus de paresse, ainsi qu’une beauté, sur de nombreux coussins… ”

Kim Taylor stared at him, confused. “What the hell is that?”

“Just some words for the moon, mon ami. Maybe one day I tell you what they mean.” Vincent checked his PAMAS before holstering it and then readied a Heckler & Koch submachine gun for combat.

“If we get through this alive then that’s a deal. I always wanted to impress someone with French poetry.”

Vincent smiled, recalling the time he met Monique in Montpelier. “With these words, Agent Taylor, you cannot fail.”

The SWAT man advanced with some Cordtex and deftly wrapped the pentaerythritol tetranitrate detcord around the central gate-bars either side of the substantial lock before withdrawing to cover. Seconds later the high-explosive detonated and blasted the entire central section of the gates to oblivion. Vincent, Kim and the SWAT team were through and into the property before the smoke had cleared.

The SWAT men sprinted to their designated areas at the sides and rear of the hacienda while Vincent and Kim headed for the main entrance. The hacienda was built around an opulent central courtyard with an expansive swimming pool at its center, and they knew from the satellite surveillance that the helicopter drone was parked on the west lawn in between the pool and the property’s beach-front perimeter wall.

Now, Vincent and Kim blasted their way toward the hacienda’s thick oak-panelled double doors at the main entrance before the Frenchman threw a SWAT-issue flash-bang grenade into the hall. The explosion rocked the stone Tuscan-order columns either side of the entrance and then a second later belched a thin cloud of white smoke out of the hole where the door used to be.

They entered the hall, guns raised and ready for booby-traps, but there was nothing there.

“Clear!” Kim shouted, adhering to protocol in a way that put the briefest of smiles on Vincent Reno’s face.