Kusanagi (27 page)

There was a terrific explosion outside and the lounge door blew open. A blast wave compressed the room and Jim and Akira were hurled to the ground. Jim struggled to his feet and Smith thrust the sword into his hand. Stafford was already at the door. Akira scrambled up, clasping the mirror that Stafford had handed him.

There was a thud at their feet as Smith threw two pistols to them from a holdall. He dragged the bag to the door as they heard a burst of fire in the hallway.

There was a whirr of servos and Jim turned to the window. The new bulletproof installation was lowering.

‘Stafford thinks we should go this way – out the back and along the shoreline,' said Jim.

Akira's head flicked from side to side to the noise of gunfire.

There was more firing in the hall.

Jim ran to the window. The exposed foreshore was empty.

He guessed Stafford thought it was better for them to run for it rather than be penned inside. Had he had time to check the CCTV?

The window wasn't lowering fast enough, so Jim jumped up on its thick rim and vaulted over. He took the pouch from Akira, turned on the ledge and jumped the eight feet down to the shingle below. He landed lightly, stayed in his crouch and looked upstream to where a stone staircase led up to an alley that in turn led to the road that ran past the front of the house.

Gunfire cracked to his left.

Akira jumped down with a grunt and scrabbled upright.

‘You OK?' asked Jim.

‘Enough.'

‘When are your people coming?' shouted Stafford to Smith.

‘Forget it.'

‘Forget it?' shouted Stafford, as he fired at a flicker of movement.

‘No one's going to wade into a full-scale war zone,' Smith shouted. ‘They'll hold back and cordon everything off.'

‘Get behind the stairs. There's a door there. Then cover me,' shouted Stafford, taking a pot shot. He took a mini-gun and fired in bursts as Smith dashed down the hall dragging the holdall.

Stafford took out his phone. The screen was smashed. ‘Damn,' he muttered, dropping it. He ran up the hall after Smith, firing randomly behind him as he went. ‘Open the door,' he ordered Smith. ‘It leads to the garage. When I get to the bottom, follow me, then hold your position. Once the car's running, get in.' Stafford ducked through the open doorway and staggered down the narrow staircase as fast as he could.

Smith opened fire down the corridor to suppress any attempt to charge it. As soon as Stafford had cleared the stairs, he swung the bag down with a crash and jumped after it, slamming the door behind him.

He found Stafford climbing into the Maybach. Smith waited for him to start the engine, then ran with the bag and jumped into the back seat. The limo doors locked. He poured the weaponry into the back footwell, then slid through the gap between the seats into the front.

‘I do hope Jim and the professor took my advice to go out the back,' said Stafford, watching the garage doors shiver into action. ‘And I really do hope the makers of this car did a proper job.'

‘Amen,' said Smith, putting on his seat belt.

Stafford turned off the airbags and waited for the doors to lift, his right eye particularly engaged. ‘Off we go,' he said, pressing hard on the accelerator.

Jim froze in the dark shadows of the alley. He could hear his garage doors opening. He snatched a glance around the corner. A dozen men, dressed in black, were running around outside and crouched to fire at whatever came out of the basement car park.

Was Stafford coming for him or making a break for it? He ducked back. Akira was looking out of the darkness in the other direction at a large white truck. Jim could hear its engine running. He felt a tug under his arm. Akira had pulled Kusanagi out of its scabbard. ‘What are you doing?' said Jim, as the professor marched out into the street.

There was a screech of tyres coming out of the garage and Jim ran after Akira.

The Maybach surged onto the road under a hail of bullets and ploughed straight into three crouching men. The rest scattered as the car reversed back and around, smashing another to the ground.

Smith glimpsed Jim and Akira running at the truck. ‘Jim needs a diversion,' he shouted.

Stafford put the car into drive and accelerated at three more men who were firing frantically into the limousine. The bulletproof windscreen was covered with divots, cracks and crazing. ‘Getting hard to see,' he muttered, swerving to hit a figure in black. There was a series of thumps and crunches as bullets rattled down the side of the car.

Akira jumped up to the cab's open window and drove Kusanagi through the gap, impaling the unsuspecting driver's head, like a toothpick penetrating an olive. He pulled the door open and the quivering body of the driver fell out. Akira jumped in and Jim followed.

‘You drive,' said Akira. ‘I never learnt.' He slid the sword back into its scabbard.

Jim was sitting in a puddle of blood. He slammed the cab door, put the truck into gear and dropped the handbrake. He was going to have to flatten the remaining cordon of men and somehow miss the Maybach, which was swerving back and forth like a dodgem car.

‘Get down,' he told Akira, who didn't seem to hear. He pulled away from the kerb and floored the accelerator.

‘Jim's in the lorry!' shouted Smith. ‘For fuck's sake, don't crash into it.'

‘Right,' snapped Stafford, reversing. He started up the road towards the truck, which was setting off towards them. The remaining black-clad men were running, some towards the truck, some into the house, others away down the road.

Two armed men were making straight for Jim. They seemed oblivious as to who was driving the truck and waved him down. He saw horror in their eyes as they registered his face. There was a bang as he ran them down, then the hideous thumping of objects being crushed beneath the wheels.

Akira looked up from the GPS. ‘There is only one saved location on the navigation computer,' he said calmly, ‘and we are going there to end this.' He set the course.

‘No,' said Jim. ‘Let's hole up somewhere and get to the embassy when it opens.'

‘We must kill Kim, or the cloud of death will always hang on our horizons.'

‘How do we even know he's there?'

‘I know he is there,' said Akira, clutching the sword. ‘I can smell him.'

Jim gripped the wheel of the truck and pushed himself down into the padded seat. ‘Buckle up, then,' he said.

His mobile was ringing. When he glanced at the screen he recognised Smith's number. When he answered, Stafford's voice spoke: ‘Where are you?'

‘Heading for Dagenham,' said Jim.

‘Turn around,' said Stafford.

He looked at Akira, holding Kusanagi in his short hand. His face bore an expression of grim determination.

‘No,' said Jim. ‘We're going on. Akira seems to think he knows where Kim is. You get safe.'

‘Where are you going in Dagenham?'

Akira read out the address.

Smith was trying to enter their new destination into the inbuilt console of the Maybach.

‘Exactly where is this police cordon?' snapped Stafford.

‘How the fuck should I know?' Smith was still struggling.

‘Allow me,' said Stafford, taking the console controller.

Something came loose under the car and there was a banging noise as it bounced away. Smith looked in the wing mirror and saw a severed arm lying in the road.

He turned round to peer through the cracked, splintered windscreen. ‘Can you see where you're going, Bertie?'

‘Just about.'

Jim entered the East London link tunnel just as three police cars, lights flashing and sirens blaring, steamed out of the tunnel in the other direction. A minute later they raced past the Maybach.

‘Exactly how many shot-to-pieces limousines do your lot see in a day?' said Stafford.

Smith shook his head sourly.

‘What a complete shower,' added Stafford.

‘Convenient in the circumstances, though,' retorted Smith.

Jim's phone rang and he picked it up from the seat, covered with blood. It was Jane – she sounded sleepy.

‘Jane, what time is it there?'

‘About three. I was just thinking… What's that noise?'

‘I'm in a lorry.'

‘Lorry? Right. Anyway, I was thinking, thinking a lot… Maybe we shouldn't – You're in a truck?' Her voice was suddenly awake. ‘Are you OK?'

‘What were you going to say?'

‘Nothing.'

‘Were you going to blow me out?'

There was a silence.

‘At eight o'clock in the morning after I just saved your life?'

‘Are you OK?'

‘Apart from sitting in a pool of someone else's blood, just having had my house blown up, I'm absolutely peachy.'

Akira was looking at him intently.

‘I love you,' she said.

‘That's better – much better. And don't say “but”. I love you too.' He hung up.

‘Seven minutes,' said Akira, reading the time to destination from the GPS. ‘
Banzai
,' he said.

‘Seven minutes to Banzai,' said Jim. He laughed, a note of insanity in his mirth.

‘Evans-san, will you tell my father?' said Akira.

‘Tell him what?'

‘Tell him of our adventure if I cannot myself.'

‘Yes,' said Jim, suddenly sober again. ‘Remember, as my nan used to say, that there is no challenge too big or problem too large that you can't turn on your heels and run away like a rabbit.'

‘No, Evans-san. We must go on.'

‘This better have a happy ending,' said Smith, putting his phone away. ‘Half of London's being closed down because of it.'

‘Happy ending?' snorted Stafford. ‘I think that's highly unlikely.'

Smith was fetching guns and ammunition from the rear footwells and stuffing his pocket with clips. ‘This is for you,' he said, putting magazines into the armrest cup-holders.

‘Thank you,' said Stafford, sticking two magazines in his breast pocket. ‘Could you reload this?' He passed Smith his machine pistol.

Smith changed the magazine and gave it back. ‘All set.'

The GPS said three minutes to destination.

Fifty yards ahead at the end of the cul-de-sac there was a red-brick warehouse. Its top half was constructed of corrugated iron and so was its slanting roof. Two dirty windows above a wide grey shutter gave the building a primitive face. It scowled down at them, its cheeks tattooed with graffiti.

‘You going to ring the doorbell?' Jim asked Akira.

‘
Banzai!
' yelled Akira, brandishing the sword.

Jim knew what he meant. ‘
Banzai!
' he roared. He stamped on the accelerator and the lorry jolted forwards. Thirty miles an hour should do it, he thought. He didn't want to hit the shutter too hard. It loomed large as they hit twenty-five and Jim braced himself at the wheel. The cab shook violently as it struck the entrance, ripping the roll-up and its frame from the brickwork. He trod hard on the brakes and the shutter crashed to the ground.

He looked into the warehouse through the cracked windscreen, his eyes accustoming to the gloom. There was another shutter fifty feet ahead. He stamped on the accelerator and set off to ram it.

Kim jumped up from his chair. He was alone, and if he stayed in the office above the warehouse he would be trapped. There was a truck downstairs – he would use it to escape. He ran for the metal staircase and tore down it as fast as the shooting pains in his chest would let him. He was gasping for breath as he sprinted across the dusty concrete towards the vehicle.

There was a crash at the inner door – he glanced over his shoulder. It was stoved in. From the other side he could hear the roaring of a large vehicle manoeuvring.

He was finding it hard to see, but still he ran with all his strength. There was another crash behind him.

‘Fuck, fuck, fuck,' shouted Jim, reversing again. ‘
Banzai!
' he bellowed, flooring the accelerator once more.

This time the lorry burst into the main warehouse in a shower of broken metal.

‘Kim!' shouted Akira, pointing.

Jim saw the man make the final feet to the lorry fifty yards away.

‘Get out,' said Akira. ‘Get out, Evans-san. I will finish this.'

‘But you can't drive.'

‘I can drive enough for this. Go now.'

Jim grabbed the mirror and jumped out of the cab.

Akira was in the driving seat, one hand on the wheel and Kusanagi drawn in the other.

Kim's lorry jerked forwards, and Jim stepped back as Akira set off.

Kim stared at the truck in front of him. It was his men's but Evans had got out and was running for the stairs to the mezzanine level. Kim's pistol was between his legs on the seat.

His men's smashed-up truck was coming straight at him. They were on a collision course.

Jim was racing up the metal staircase. He was suddenly very exposed. If Akira didn't manage to crash into Kim he'd get mown down himself. On top of that there might be people in the offices above.

‘Oh, shit!' he exclaimed. Kim was heading his way. If he avoided Akira, he was going to plough straight into the stairway. He took the stairs three at a time.

Akira's mouth was open in horror. The truck wasn't responding to his swerve. It felt as if something was stuck, stopping it turning fully. The ramming had damaged the steering and as he yanked down on the wheel it failed to veer far enough to the left. Kim's cab passed his.

Kim crashed into the staircase just as Jim reached the top, the whole gantry shaking and twisting with the blow. Jim cried out as he lost his footing and fell, rolling backwards like a ball down the shattered stairs and onto the roof of Kim's truck.

He opened his eyes and gazed up at the ceiling, spreadeagled. His phone was ringing. It stopped. He rolled onto his side. A truck was heading straight for him. The truck below him shifted and the jolt forced him onto his back again. He felt the impact of the collision, which threw him across the roof of the truck. He was hanging off the side now, dazed and bleeding. His mind was operating automatically. He was hanging in a tight space between the side of a truck and a wall. If the vehicle set off again, it could easily squash him against the brickwork and crush the life out of him. He heaved himself back onto the roof with a grunt.