The Sixth Seal

The hallway erupted into chaos as soon as Ana stepped through the door. Two more men charged at her, determination drawn on their faces.

She held up a hand. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

They hesitated. The one closest to her spoke. “We don’t want to shoot you, but we have orders to keep you in that room.”

“But you can’t kill me?”

He swallowed and tugged at his collar. “No, but we can do whatever is necessary to keep you here.”

“Then do what you must.”

The younger of the two pushed past the other, pulling a pistol from a holster underneath his jacket. Apparently they had no qualms about shooting her in the legs.

The sound of footfalls came from the floor above. She dropped to one knee, brought the SIG Pro to bear, and then fired off a shot that shattered the man’s kneecap. The momentum caused his leg to bend backward at an unnatural angle. He fell to the floor a few feet from her, writhing in pain. She jumped up, kicked the gun from the fallen man’s hand, and then threw herself against the opposite wall just in time to avoid the second man’s gunfire.

As the man prepared to take aim, she rushed him. His eyes went wide. He stepped back, but not fast enough. She dropped her shoulder and rammed her elbow into his ribs, pushing him into the wall. He grabbed her hair with his left hand and pulled her head back. She flipped the gun in her hand and brought the butt down hard across his face. Blood streamed from the corners of his mouth and his jaw went slack. She let him fall to the floor.

Each end of the hallway was identical to the other, but she figured the door the two men had come out of would be her path to escape. The man with the shattered knee let out soft and sickening moans behind her. She rested the heel of her boot just above his knee, which immediately got his attention. His eyes pleaded with her.

“You’re going to tell me the best way out of here, and if I don’t believe you...” She pressed down lightly on his knee. “Well, you get the idea.”

He nodded his understanding. “The garage is on the east side of the house. You’ll have to go down the hall and up to the first floor. Take a right when you get to the top of the stairs. You can go through the kitchen and out to the back of the house.”

“How many more armed men are there in the house?”

“Five.” His eyes betrayed him. She put pressure on his knee. “Okay, okay! Ten more men, but you’ll have a better chance of avoiding them if you go through the kitchen.”

She took her foot off of his knee and knelt down beside him. “Where can I find the keys to the cars in the garage?”

“There’s a metal box on the wall next to the door. You’ll find keys in there.”

A tear escaped the man’s eye. She knew the pain must be excruciating.

“I believe you. Now just sit tight. I’m sure one of your friends will be along shortly.” She stood and turned to leave.

“Hey?”

“Yes?”

“Why in hell do they want you so badly?”

“Because I’m the only one who can stop them.”

She left him in the hallway, the sound of his pain fading as she moved farther away.

Just as the man said, the kitchen was to the right of the stairs. So far her progress had been unmolested, but she had a bad feeling they were gathering outside to seal off her escape.

A man in a chef’s coat and hat dropped a platter when she charged through the door. He backed up against a large center island, nearly climbing on top of it. A disheveled teen with sandy hair stopped washing dishes and stood against the sink, his hands dripping on the tile floor.

She waved the gun at the cook. “You’re going to take me to the garage.”

“I’m just the cook.” He slid away from her, his backside pressed firmly against the counter.

“I know you’re just the cook, and as long as you take me to the garage, you won’t get hurt. Now hurry up. There isn’t much time.” She pointed toward the opposite door with the gun.

The man complied, running a trembling hand through his thin black hair. The boy looked as though he was going to say something, but a glance from the cook seemed to convince him otherwise. Instead he backed up against the sink, giving them a wide berth.

“Don’t worry, he should be back in a minute.” She smiled at the teen. He just nodded in reply.

The cook opened a door that let out into a large dining room. Sunlight spilling from towering latticed windows blurred her vision momentarily. When her eyes adjusted she noticed several men sitting at an impossibly long table. Several of the men pushed back from the table and another dropped a fork. She pointed the gun in their direction.

The cook stepped between her and the men. “They’re just more of the staff. None of these men are armed.”

“As you were.” She prodded the cook forward. “Which way to the garage?”

He pointed to a side door, seeming reluctant to continue. “Please, Miss, I have a family. There’ll be men with guns waiting for you outside. I don’t get paid enough for this.”

She could see he was shaking. “Fair enough.” She turned to the other men at the table. “Here’s what I want you to do.” She walked to the door, putting a hand on the knob. “When I give you the signal, I want each of you to pick up a chair and throw it through the window.”

One of the men shook his head and backed toward the window. The man closest to him grabbed him by the shoulder. “Just do what she wants and she’ll leave us alone.” He looked to her for assurance.

“Your friend is right.” She waved the gun toward the chairs. “Your employers aren’t the upstanding men they purport to be so don’t feel too bad about destroying a few windows in their house.”

When each of the men had a chair, she gave them the signal. They heaved in unison, shattering the windows outward from the dining room and onto the manicured lawn beyond. She waited until she heard the sounds of several men running toward the back of the house to investigate. Their feet crunched on gravel and she heard at least three distinct voices. She took a deep breath, brought the pistol up, and then pushed the door open.

She scanned the area looking for signs of activity. The ruse had worked. The six-bay garage sat a mere thirty yards away, unguarded.

She stepped out slowly, then sprinted across the short span of lawn through the only open garage door, her boots kicking up bits of gravel from the driveway.

Inside, she glanced at the row of expensive vehicles and searched the wall for the key box.

Voices shouted behind her. She turned and fired at the three men in dark suits running toward the garage. One tumbled to the ground, her bullet lodged in his side. The other two dove for cover behind the row of hedges lining the driveway. She fired another couple of shots and hurried to the far wall, throwing open the metal door of the key box.

The metal box was exactly where the man said it would be. She opened it up, revealing several rows of hooks, each with a set of keys. There were enough hooks for twelve sets, but there were only five cars in the garage. She grabbed a key and pressed the remote. A wine colored, capable-looking sedan flashed its lights. Before she could make it to the car, gunshots echoed through the building. An overhead light fell on top of her, sending her sprawling to the ground. The keys and her gun skittered across the concrete floor, coming to rest under the second car.

Another one of the house goons lunged toward her. She was on her knees when he kicked her in the stomach. The force of the blow knocked her into the nearest car. He was about to land another kick when she caught his foot, twisted it and pushed him backward. He stumbled, but didn’t completely lose his footing. She scrambled to her feet.

The man took on a defensive stance. There was muscled definition beneath his neatly pressed shirt. He was thick and had a more experienced look than the first two men she encountered.

He stayed a step back and kept his fists in front of his face. “If you come back peacefully I won’t have to hurt you.”

“That takes all the fun out of it.” She sneered at him.

“I was hoping you’d say that. I owe you one for Will.” He moved back and forth like a boxer.

“Will?”

“You remember, the boy whose kneecap you blew off.” He returned her sneer.

“Couldn’t be helped I’m afraid.” She took up a defensive stance of her own.

The spontaneity of his attack surprised her. Without another word, he swung. She blocked his arm to keep his left from smashing into her head, but the force threw her against the car. He moved in fast. She brought her knee up, but he turned his waist and avoided a nasty shot to the groin. He feinted to the left and when she countered, he made contact with his right. The force of the blow sent her over the hood of the car and onto the floor on the opposite side. Everything was upside down. She blinked several times until the room came back into focus.

The man came around the car before she could get back up. He kicked her again, pushing her on her back, down on the floor. His face was a portrait of satisfaction. Probably not the first time he’s thrown a woman on the ground. As he pressed his booted foot into her stomach she rolled her head to the side. The gun. It was so close. She stretched her left arm back and out, flailing for the pistol.

“What are you after, pretty one?” He dropped to one knee and pressed a thick hand over her chest. He grabbed at her arm with his other hand.

The gun was just out of reach and he had her pinned to the floor, her arm splayed out over her head. His hand groped at her breasts while he pressed her to the ground. A sickening smile formed on his face. For a split second she almost wished the others would come. Maybe they’d pull him off of her, but probably not. More likely they’d take turns with her until the boss returned.

He tore at her shirt, exposing her delicate skin. When he leaned in a little closer, she grabbed at his hair with her right hand. She missed, but managed to catch hold of his collar. Cinching the material like a rope, she used the leverage to bring her right leg off the ground. Her knee caught him in the ear. He winced and loosened his grip. Pushing off from his arm, she strained until her left hand gripped the butt of the gun. He caught her arm. She fired, grazing his shoulder. It was enough to get free from his grasp. She fired again and again until the gun was empty and the man was slouched against the rear wheel of the car.

Shouting from outside the garage snapped her back to action. She reloaded the gun, pressed herself to the ground and looked out underneath the first car toward the open door. Two sets of feet. She took aim and fired, hitting one of the men in the ankle and then shooting him in the shoulder when he fell to the ground. The other man took cover.

She spotted the keys to the wine colored car just behind the right rear tire. She fished them out and rolled to her feet, hurrying to the driver’s side door. Her side ached and her jaw felt like it was in a vice. She dropped into the seat and pulled the door closed.

The Eye of Jupiter was somewhere in Berlin. What was the address on the little slip of paper she’d found after Lee died? She struggled to remember, but her mind was fuzzy. She fumbled in her pockets. No paper. Doctor Gabriel must have found it when they moved her to the room downstairs. She pushed out with her mind. Nothing. Again she pushed. A faint response.

Digamma?

“Where are you?” A note of hope in her voice.

The book didn’t answer, but she could feel it reaching out to her, awakening something in her. It was as though a signal was being amplified, tuned. She couldn’t so much see where the Eye was, as she could feel it. It had locked on to her and was sending out waves of energy. She focused on the waves, seeking out the center.

The car roared to life. She dropped it into reverse, punched the gas, and launched it through the garage door. Wood snapped and creaked and shattered, sending splintering debris out onto the driveway.

A moment later she spun the stocky sedan around the circular drive and out onto the country lane, kicking up clouds of dust in her wake. She continued to reach out to the book, reading its pulses of energy like a ship guided by a lighthouse. She just hoped she wasn’t too late.