Finally, he spoke, “We have reunited the Duke Organization, a group your interference destroyed seven years ago. You ruined all we had and all we were. You broke us.”
Sanaga brought his left hand up, revealing a second open switchblade. “My turn, now.”
Smaller and skinnier than Jake, he was also younger, quicker, and possibly a lot deadlier. He’d earned the nickname of “Kobayashi,” given to him by Colonel Duke. He was also armed with two very sharp blades. Jake considered his experience, but quickly discounted it as a plus in this instance. The years he spent sweeping college dorm rooms most likely negated that advantage.
“We don’t have to do this, you know. My fight doesn’t have to be with you.”
Jake meant what he said, he didn’t want a battle. His target, Rick Rasner was, at this very moment, putting distance between them. To engage Sanaga, Jake felt, would be a waste of time.
Then again, fighting for one’s life could never be considered a waste of time.
Jake spoke slowly, bringing his arms down from their defensive fighting positions. “Just let me know where Rasner’s going and where I can find him. Then we can both walk away from this. You can go back to your dojo and I’ll pretend I never saw you here. In fact, we’ll never have to see each other again.”
Sanaga pointed a switchblade at Jake. He turned it between the fingers of his left hand. Over and over. “Tell you what,” he offered after moments of silence. “If you can defeat me, then maybe I will tell you what you wish to know.”
“Can’t do this the easy way, can we?”
Sanaga answered by lunging forward like a rocket shot out of a cannon, the knife in his right hand held straight out. Jake lunged to his left, just barely moving out of the way before the sharp edge could slice through his chest.
Jake bounced up and dashed behind his smaller opponent. Sanaga spun around and attempted to thrust the right-hand knife into Jake’s gut. Jake snatched Sanaga’s wrist with the blade inches from his stomach.
Sanaga drove the switchblade in his left hand at the same target. Jake’s hands and body were a blur of motion, snapping and eluding Sanaga’s repeated thrusts.
Finally, Jake found himself with both of Sanaga’s wrists gripped in his fists. He maneuvered his fingers into specific pressure points, to cut off the circulation and force the weapons to drop from Sanaga’s hands. If only he would give Jake the time…
He did not.
A lightning quick head butt caught Jake on the bridge of the nose. His grip opened and Jake flew backward, stumbling over something on the floor. Jake spun his body and landed on his backside. And saw he’d tripped over Jorge’s carcass.
Jake couldn’t help but snicker. Despite death, this well-regulated group continued to back up one another in battle. With the quickness of a leopard, Sanaga leaped into the air and dove down on Jake, both blades pointed forward. Jake, however, was not without a few moves of his own. He folded his knees to his stomach, his feet up. Sanaga slammed into the soles of Jake’s boots. Jake pushed out with his legs, sending Sanaga reeling backward. Hooking the knives in his hands against the ends of the open doorway was the only reason the younger Asian warrior wasn’t sent flying out of the room.
Jake flashed a glance around the room. Where was his gun? He’d always considered himself more of a shooter than a hand-to-hand fighter. He’d been an expert marksman in the military and the executions he was assigned to during his days in the field were always from the opposite end of a firearm.
Each of his guns, however, had been knocked all the way across the room. To retrieve either one would leave him an open target for the very quick Jun Sanaga.
Then he remembered Jorge’s gun.
Hadn’t the man fallen on top of it after getting shot in the back?
Jake fumbled underneath Jorge’s heavy body, bounding back when one of Sanaga’s switchblades spiked in front of him, the point punching into Jorge’s back. Sanaga, now wielding just one blade, regained his balance and launched himself at Jake.
Jake snapped the knife from Jorge’s back. He jabbed it up over his head. Sanaga’s knife grazed the side of Jake’s head, just above his ear. The warmth of his own blood washed over him. Sanaga slashed again. This time, Jake was ready. Metal clanged against metal. The blades deflected off each other as both men fought for balance. Blood flew into his left eye and turned his vision to a fog.
Jake took a step back, blinking. He swiped the back of a hand on his face. Sanaga struck again. Jake sidestepped and spun to face the younger man.
They circled, each waiting for the other to make a wrong move. Jake feigned with his knife. Sanaga did not flinch.
Sanaga charged forward. His outstretched weapon slashed across Jake’s chest. The fabric tore, buttons flew. Jake felt nothing, but knew from experience, the pain would come later. Sanaga held the knife up, showing off a piece of Jake’s camouflage shirt. Blood tipped the knife. Sanaga threw a cocky grin and motioned for Jake to come at him, slipping the fabric off the blade as he did.
Jake obliged, leaping over Jorge and pounding forward. Sanaga ducked and lunged, slicing Jake’s right shoulder with the blade. This time he did feel the pain. Instantly, the nerves in his hand went limp. Jake’s other hand flew up to touch the wound.
Sanaga’s long, skinny leg shot up. The heel of his boot hammered Jake between the eyes. The momentum combined with the blood had blinded him. He staggered back.
“You are a weak old man,” Sanaga said, his voice low and threatening. “You should lay down and die. I will help you.”
Jake heaved his knife at Sanaga’s head. He knew he was playing into Sanaga’s game. To feed into emotion was a tactical mistake. Sanaga dodged Jake’s attack, his knife passed over the Asian’s head. Shit, what did it take to bring this man down?
As his opponent straightened up, Jake dropped his head and charged. He thrust his shoulder into Sanaga’s mid-section and wrapped his arms around the lanky man’s body. Jake lifted Sanaga off his feet and drove him through the doorway, slamming him into the wall across the hallway.
At impact, Sanaga forced his right knee into Jake’s ribs, followed by a jumping knee lift to Jake’s chin. More blood. Now Jake was pissed off. As he regrouped, Sanaga pointed the blade in his right hand at the center of Jake’s chest. He was going for the kill.
Not if Jake had anything to say about it.
He reached up above his head and suddenly felt a return of hope. He was directly underneath one of the many brass candlestick holders that decorated the upstairs hallway. They were old, but solid. For once, Jake found a quality in the general he liked. He wrenched the holder from its frame just as Sanaga lunged at him.
He brought the heavy brass piece down across Sanaga’s wrist. Sanaga howled and the switchblade dropped to the floor. Sanaga backed off, his right wrist gripped in his left hand.
A smile formed on Jake’s face. He got a strong grip on the candlestick holder and swung it like a baseball bat. There was a horrific thud as the knobby end struck the side of his head. Sanaga dropped like a stone.
Jake put a few feet between himself and his faltering opponent. Sanaga was on his knees, clutching the side of his head. Jake couldn’t see the severity of the wound, there was so much blood. He was just glad there was a wound. “So, you’re human after all.”
Stay down
. Let this battle be over. He didn’t want to kill the only member of the Duke Organization he respected. Unlike the rest, Sanaga always had a certain set of morals and honor, warped as they were.
Sanaga raised his head and eyed Jake with a look that spoke as clear as words. He intended to attack again—and kill. But his knifes were out of reach. He had no way to…
A Chinese star whizzed through the air, aimed for the head.
Jake ducked, but not fast enough. One of the six razor-sharp edges nicked his temple. Jake just had time to hope Sanaga hadn’t poisoned the tips when the thin man leaped up and dove at Jake with his right leg outstretched. Maybe dizzy from the head wound, maybe blinded by anger, Jake didn’t know, but Sanaga’s aim was off. The Asian bounced off the hallway wall, but whirled and threw a jumping sidekick at Jake. This missed too.
Frustration made Sanaga sloppy. His cool and calm demeanor had waned. Jake took this as a personal victory.
He realized he’d reached the top of the rounded staircase. Below, the dark house was silent. Seeing Jake’s momentary distraction, Sanaga charged. He jumped in the air launching another flying front kick to Jake’s chest.
Jake nabbed Sanaga’s right leg and hooked it between his arms just as he took the glancing blow to his chest. The force stole Jake’s balance. He fell backward, still gripping Sanaga’s leg.
Both men tumbled down the circular staircase. Every third or fourth step Jake was on the bottom. The riser’s edges felt like daggers in his spine, his thighs, his head. About the middle of the staircase, their bodies broke apart. Jake struggled to stop his downhill momentum, but couldn’t ’til he’d rolled another half dozen steps.
The hand-to-hand battle was not going his way. He needed to gain his feet and get back on offense to end this conflict. On pure adrenalin, coupled with desperation, Jake rose to his feet, bracing his back against the smooth circular wall. His fists clenched before him. Ready.
And so was Sanaga—two steps above. A soft curse squeezed between his lips.
Sanaga spun and hit a roundhouse kick, gathering speed as he dropped toward Jake. Jake took the blow in the ribcage and launched backward off the steps with his arms and legs flailing in all directions. He plummeted the rest of the way down, colliding with the wooden floor at the bottom of the stairs. His head took most of the damage. He saw stars.
He shook it off to see Jun Sanaga kneeling on the fifth step. He hunched over. Jake hoped the wounds had done his opponent in, the fight over, but Sanaga pulled himself upright. Jake’s exultation shattered seeing Sanaga reach into his right leather boot and pull out a crescent dagger.
Jake’s brain ordered him to move, roll out of the way, but his body wouldn’t respond.
Sanaga pointed the blade at Jake. Both his legs bent at the knees, he prepared to jump.
Roll, come on, roll! Jake begged his body, but he received no response. He felt himself staring helplessly up into dark determined eyes.
Sanaga’s self-assured look turned to one of stunned concern as two red beams bounced off his chest. Rapid gunfire echoed throughout the house as a series of bullets hit Sanaga’s body.
Sanaga convulsed. With his black shirt drenched in blood, he finally dropped. Jake found that now he could move. He rolled over and peered up. Two men stood holding automatic machineguns. Jake recognized them as the two soldiers who accompanied General Straker at the dollar store, only now they dressed in navy-blue SWAT uniforms. The taller of the two soldiers walked up to Jake and offered a hand to help him up. Jake slapped the hand away.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Jake shouted as he helped himself up to his knees.
“The general assigned us as your back-up,” the taller soldier explained. “We were instructed to enter the conflict if you lost control of the situation.”
“The situation
was
under control.”
“Not from what I saw, Mister Scarberry.”
Jake placed both of his hands against the oak floor and pushed himself to his feet. Pain shot through every inch of him, but he wouldn’t give Straker’s troops the satisfaction of seeing him wince.
“I was playing possum, trying to lure him in. I was just about to take him out.”
“Well now it’s done. He’s taken out.”
Jake let out an aggravated groan as he stepped up into the soldier’s face. “I wanted him alive so I could question him. Yeah, you killed him, but now we don’t know where the rest of the group is staying. We’re no closer now to finding Rasner than before we got here! Now how the hell do we…”
“They came in a white van,” the second soldier interrupted.
“Excuse me?”
“We’re tracking it from a satellite hook-up,” The calmer of the two soldiers explained. “We’ll know where Rasner’s going before he even gets there.”
Jake still wanted to be angry, but he was more impressed than enraged. Apparently, Straker had more resources in place than he’d let on. “Okay, then let’s get this show on the road. But I do want to make one thing clear.”
The taller of the two soldiers relaxed his hold of the weapon attached to a strap around his right shoulder. He folded his arms and waited with an expression of boredom.
“When we find them, I handle this alone,” Jake demanded. “I don’t like working with other people, especially Straker’s people.”
The soldier remained silent, giving Jake a hard stare. “We will remain back until the very moment you need us, those are our orders. And it’s up to my judgment when that moment is.”
Jeeze, this man was just as arrogant as Straker.
Jake considered punching him in the mouth. It would alleviate a bit of the frustration he felt over the failed battle with Sanaga. He thought better of it, though. The satisfaction would hardly be worth the trouble it would cause.
“Fine,” Jake reluctantly agreed.
Jake turned and eyed Sanaga’s body, draped across the steps like a puppet that had its strings cut. He’d been ripped apart by the force of the bullets that had torn through him. Jake had a great deal of disdain for the Duke Organization, but this was the one man he felt deserved better. On the other hand, Sanaga was the type of soldier who would want to die in battle.
“We’ll call for a clean-up crew,” the soldier shouted at Jake, “We have a first-aid kit in the van. We’ll clean you up as well.”
Jake took one last look at the corpse. He couldn’t help but feel dirtied by the entire situation. He couldn’t wait for the mission to be over, even if it did mean going back to that menial civilian life. He was already unhappy with how things progressed, but he would see it through. Then again, he really didn’t have a choice in the matter, as had been the case the last time he worked for Straker.
“Are you coming or not?” The lead soldier called from the front door. It stood open, fresh cool air wafted through making Jake realize how hot it was inside this place.