On Her Majesty's Behalf (14 page)

 

Chapter Twenty

Bedlam Hospital

London

S
URROUNDED BY WALLS
at his back and sides, and with that many shredders rushing toward him from the front, Burke made the only reasonable choice available to him. He brought his Tommy gun up and opened fire.

Nicknamed the “trench broom” for its ability to deliver a fair amount of firepower quickly and reasonably accurately, the Thompson submachine gun Burke carried was fitted with a hundred-­round drum magazine loaded with .45 ACP ammunition. It was also set on full automatic fire, rather than the single shot select fire setting, which meant that when he opened fire, the gun sent out a steady stream of bullets and made one hell of a racket.

He couldn't be worried about noise at this point, though. If he didn't live through the next ­couple of minutes, attracting more shredders would be the least of his problems.

Smoke and empty shell casings kicked to the right as he sent half a dozen rounds into the skull of the straitjacketed shredder directly in front of him, literally blowing it apart. The body was still on its way to the ground as Burke pulled the gun back down on target, never taking his finger off the trigger, sending a steady stream of bullets into the mob of shredders coming up from behind.

Blood and flesh flew through the air as several shredders in the front ranks were cut down, but still the rest came on.

Burke lowered his aim, sweeping the muzzle of the Thompson back and forth across the line of oncoming shredders at knee height, chopping their legs out from under them, hoping to trip up the ranks farther back on the bodies of those in front. Seconds later the staccato chatter of Drummond's Tommy and the heavy bark of Doc's Enfield joined the cacophony as they took their cue from Burke and added their firepower to his.

The last of the shredders fell less than three feet from where Burke stood. It continued to crawl toward him, pulling itself forward with its hands while dragging its shattered legs behind it until he stepped forward and put a bullet through its brain.

The smell of cordite filled the air as the three men lowered their weapons and looked around. Close to twenty of the creatures littered the ground between them and the entrance to Bedlam.

Burke glanced back at the others.

“Keep your wits about you,” he told them. “There could be more inside.”

As if on cue, the shredder hiding in the darkness just beyond the doorway chose that moment to explode into action. It charged out of the doorway and hit Burke like a freight train while his attention was still on the men behind him, bowling him over backward and knocking the Thompson free of his grasp as he slammed into the ground. His head rang from the impact and darkness threatened at the edge of his vision, but he fought back against it, knowing he wouldn't wake up again if he lost consciousness now.

Teeth snapped at his face as the shredder tried to reach him, but he'd managed to get an arm across his chest as he'd fallen and used that to push back, holding it at bay, but just barely. It kicked and squirmed, trying to get closer, while Burke fought to push it off him enough to find some leverage that he could use to his advantage.

“A little help here!” Burke shouted.

He was answered by the crack of a gunshot, so close that his ears rang from the sound, and a grisly splatter of blood, bone, and brain matter splashed across his face as Doc's bullet took the top of the creature's head clear off.

The body slumped down on top of Burke, soaking the front of his uniform with blood and other bodily fluids.

“Bastard!” he cursed quietly as he pushed it off him and, with the help of the others, climbed to his feet.

That had been too close for his liking.

As Burke wiped the worst of the detritus off his face and went to retrieve his weapon, he noticed Drummond kept glancing at the walls on either side of them, a nervous expression on his face.

“You hear that?” Drummond asked.

Burke paused, listened; he did hear something.

It sounded like someone shuffling his feet in the dirt.

A lot of someones, in fact.

He was suddenly very happy that there was an eight-­foot wall between this courtyard and the next. He just hoped the shredders didn't figure out how to climb.

“Come on,” he said, waving the others forward. “Let's get this done and get back to the boat.”

They entered Bedlam through the door at the western end of the building and, just as Drummond had predicted, found themselves in a set of administrative offices that had certainly seen better days. Light came in through several windows, making it easy to see. Desks and chairs were smashed. Bookshelves and filing cabinets were knocked over and their contents scattered all over the floor. Blood was splattered across the walls and ceiling in more than one location. The bodies of two of the former staff lay in the doorway to the hall beyond, their chests and throats torn open, most likely by the very same shredders that Burke and his two companions had just dealt with out in the courtyard.

The trio left the offices behind and stepped into a long hallway that appeared to run the length of the west wing all the way to the main building. Doors lined either side of the hall, one every six feet or so, and the observation windows set in each and every one of them made it clear that the rooms had once housed the hospital's patients. More than a few of the doors were open, and from where they stood Burke and his men could see corpses lying in the hall.

Step by step they made their way slowly forward, leapfrogging each other over and over again as they checked each and every room, not wanting a shredder to come charging up behind them unexpectedly.

Each time they came to a corpse Drummond had the unpleasant task of trying to determine whether the ravaged and decomposing mess of flesh in front of them was that of the missing Queen, as he was the only one who had met her.

Three-­quarters of the way down the hall they discovered an open doorway on the left that led to a stairwell going upward. As they had yet to check out the main structure ahead of them, they bypassed it for now and continued forward.

Burke was tempted to cry out, to see if anyone would answer his calls, but he knew that was just asking for trouble. For all they knew, the next door he opened might lead them into a room full of shredders and he would be much happier to surprise them with his sudden appearance than to find them waiting on the other side of the door for him to open it.

At the end of the hall a set of double doors led from the west wing into the main building, but when he tried them, Burke found them locked. Peering through the window in the door revealed a large open room with what looked like a receptionist's desk and several couches; perhaps the waiting room by the main entrance.

Something thumped.

Burke went still, holding up a fist in a signal for the others to do the same.

He glanced around and then up at the ceiling, trying to pinpoint the sound, and after a moment it came again. It seemed to be coming from the room above them.

Shredders?

He didn't think so. The sound had a furtive quality to it, as if who or whatever had made it hadn't meant for it to be heard. Shredders weren't exactly known for their subtlety.

The Queen? Some other survivors?

There was only one way to find out.

They backtracked a little until they came to the stairwell they'd passed a few minutes before and then headed up toward the second floor.

On the second flight they found several bodies littering the stairwell, but this time they were shredder corpses rather than those of murdered staff. They checked the features of each corpse, making sure none of them were the royal family. Doing so made Burke aware that they probably should have done the same thing with the shredders in the courtyard and he made a mental note to check them on the way back out if they didn't find anything on the floor above.

Satisfied that their target was not among the dead, they continued upward.

They slipped through the door at the top of the steps and found themselves in another corridor like the one they'd left below. Just beyond the stairwell they found their first barricade.

It was a thick pile of furniture, pillaged no doubt from patient rooms. Bed frames, mattresses, bureaus, desks, nightstands; you name it, it was in there. Whoever had built the barricade had piled it nearly to ceiling height and, as a result, completely blocked the way forward.

It looked intact.

Burke took that as a good sign.

A few minutes of cooperative effort allowed them to clear a small section on the edge of the barricade. From atop the pile they could see another barricade about twenty feet farther down the hall. The area in between looked clear, so Burke clambered through the opening and then stood watch as the other two followed suit.

The next barricade looked more extensive and, after a few moments of investigation, proved to be about twice as thick. Drummond and Burke were just beginning to pull material from the top when Doc's whispered voice broke the silence.

“Major! Over here!”

For a moment Burke was certain that it was going to be bad news, that Doc was going to reveal the body of the woman they'd come to find, but as Burke drew closer he saw that Bankowski was grinning.

“What have you got?”

Doc stepped out of the way, revealing an opening low to the ground. “A tunnel.”

Indeed it was. By getting down on his hands and knees, Burke could look down its length and see clear to the other side of the barricade. There was just enough room for a man to pull himself through lying flat on his back or his stomach, though only if he didn't mind tight spaces.

Very tight spaces.

Burke sat back on his haunches, thinking. He guessed that the barricades had been set up as two separate lines of defense. Those they were designed to protect would make their stand at the first barricade and then, if events got away from them, they could retreat behind the second, using the tunnel to reach the safety of the hall beyond without the need to scramble over the unsteady pile. He had no doubt that there would be some way of closing off the tunnel on the other end once the retreating soldiers reached the safety of the hallway beyond. It was a clever setup and, in usual circumstances, would probably work pretty well.

These were not usual circumstances, however; far from them.

Shredders were exceptionally fast, and the narrow confines of the tunnel would create a bottleneck at precisely the wrong time for the retreating defenders. The fact that the area between the two barricades was empty of bodies told him more than anything else that the defenses had yet to be tested.

And that meant the defenders might still be hiding out somewhere beyond the barricade.

He made up his mind.

“I'm going to check it out,” he told the other two. “Watch my back.”

But Drummond grabbed his arm before he could lower himself to the floor. “You shouldn't do this,” he said to Burke. “The squad needs you to get us back to the
Reliant
. Let one of us handle this.”

Burke shook his head.

“You're the only one who can identify the Queen on sight, so sending you doesn't make any sense. Neither does sending Doc, as I'm sure we're going to need him to provide medical attention if we find any survivors. That leaves me.”

Burke wasn't the type to order his men into any situation that he wasn't willing to risk himself, which made his decision even easier. Logically, he was the best choice for the job.

“Here, hold this for me till I get back,” he said, handing his Tommy off to Drummond. “I don't want the strap getting caught on something halfway through.”

The other man took it wordlessly, clearly not happy with Burke's decision but understanding that he didn't have any choice in the matter.

Burke drew his pistol, took a deep breath, and then slid into the makeshift tunnel on his stomach, headfirst. It was a tight fit, but he managed to move forward through a combination of pushing off with his feet and pulling with his free hand, squirming his body back and forth as he went. He did his best not to think about the massive mound of furniture just inches over his head, nor what it would do to him should it collapse.

Inch by inch, he slid forward.

As he neared the other end of the makeshift tunnel, he paused, surveying the area in front of him. The hallway beyond the tunnel looked empty but also intact; there was none of the destruction they'd seen elsewhere that indicated that shredders had come through at some point in the recent past. It was a good sign and gave him some hope that they might actually find who they'd come looking for.

With his free hand he reached out, grabbed the upper edge of the tunnel mouth, and pulled himself clear of the obstruction, only to find himself staring down the muzzle of a pistol very much like his own.

The man who held it stood with his back to the barricade a foot or so to the side of the tunnel mouth. He was a grizzled-­looking veteran in a stained uniform with a tattered bandage wrapped around his head and at least three days' worth of unshaven beard on his hard-­lined face.