Valhalla Rising (Dirk Pitt 16)

"A SWAT team will be arriving any second. The road is the only way out. You're trapped."

"You'll forgive me, Mr. Pitt, if I don't believe you." Then he gave a brief tilt of his head toward the giant. "Set the lady on her feet, Darfur." He turned his attention back to Pitt. "Did you kill one of my men?"

"No," Pitt said. "I merely knocked your pal in the security center unconscious and borrowed his clothes."

"I have a score to settle with you, Mr. Pitt. Would you disagree?"

"Speaking for myself, I think I should be awarded a medal for fouling up your rotten plans. You and your friends belong back in Jurassic ooze."

"Your death will be slow and painful."

There it was. Kanai was not going to kill Pitt quickly. In the killer's mind, it was payback time. Pitt fully realized he was in a precarious position. What was Giordino thinking as he viewed the scene over the monitor? The law was coming. That much he was sure of, but when? He had to stall as long as he could.

"Did I interrupt something when I crashed the party?" he asked innocently.

Kanai gave him a calculated look. "I was having a friendly discussion with Miss Egan and Mr. Thomas regarding Dr. Egan's work."

"The old find-the-oil-formula routine," Pitt said dismissively. "How uncreative of you, Kanai. It seems everybody in the state knows the formula but you and your pals at Cerberus."

Kanai's eyes widened marginally. "You are well-informed."

Pitt shrugged. "It's all in how you interpret the drums."

Kelly had moved over to Thomas. She removed his gag and was wiping away the blood from his face with her sweater, revealing her bra. Thomas looked up through dull eyes at her, murmuring his thanks. The huge Darfur stood behind Pitt, looking like a coyote who had a rabbit trapped in a gulch.

"You may prove to be a blessing in disguise," Kanai said to him. He turned to Kelly. "Now then, Miss Egan, you will kindly give me the oil formula or I will shoot this man in the knees, then the elbows, then I'll blast off his ears."

Kelly looked at Pitt in anguish. It was the final blow. With Kanai threatening both Pitt and Thomas, she knew she didn't have the fortitude to hold out, and abruptly crumbled. "The formula is hidden in my father's laboratory."

"Where?" Kanai demanded. "We've already made a thorough search of it."

She started to answer, but Pitt interrupted. "Don't tell him. Better we all die than give his murderous friends at Cerberus a bonanza they don't deserve."

"Enough," Kanai snapped. He removed an automatic from a shoulder holster and aimed the muzzle at Pitt's left knee. "It seems Miss Egan has to be persuaded."

Darfur walked over and stood in front of Pitt. "Sir, I would consider it an honor if you'd allow me to obtain work on this dog."

Kanai looked at the big man and smiled. "I stand remiss. I'd neglected your powers of persuasion, old friend. He's all yours."

As Darfur turned to lay his rifle against a chair, Pitt, who'd pretended a look of fear, suddenly uncoiled like a rattier and lashed out at Darfur with his knee, catching the monstrous man in the groin. It should have been a stunning blow, or at least an incapacitating one, but Pitt's aim was slightly off and the major force caught Darfur just to the side of the genitals where the thigh joins the torso.

Darfur was taken by complete surprise and doubled over with a hoarse gasp of pain, but only for a moment. He recovered almost instantly and struck Pitt in the chest with both hands clutched together in a sledgehammer punch that forced an explosive gasp of breath and knocked him over a table, crashing to the carpet. Pitt had never been struck so hard. He came to his knees, heaving to put air in his lungs. Any more of this punishment and he'd be a candidate for the morgue. He knew he could never take the giant down with his feet and fists, and he'd have required muscles the size of drainage pipes even to attempt any display of resistance. He needed a weapon, any weapon. He picked up a coffee table, lifted it high and brought it down on Darfur's head, shattering the wooden surface. The monster must have had a skull of iron. His eyes seemed to go out of focus, and he swayed unsteadily. Pitt thought he might go down and readied himself to leap for the gun in Kanai's hand, but Darfur shook off the blow, rubbed his head, refocused his eyes and renewed his attack.

Pitt was in the fight of his life, and he was losing. There is a truism in the world of boxing that says a good little man can never beat a good big man. At least not in a fair fight. Pitt frantically looked around for something to throw. He snatched a heavy ceramic lamp off an end table and threw it with both hands. It merely bounced off of Darfur's right shoulder like a rock off a Patton tank. Pitt threw a telephone, followed by a vase, followed by a clock off the mantel. He might as well have been throwing a barrage of tennis balls. None had the slightest effect on Darfur's massive body.

Pitt could read the cold, dead eyes and saw that the giant was tired of playing the game. Darfur launched himself across the room like a defensive guard against a quarterback. But Pitt was still agile enough to step aside and let the express train thunder past and crash into a piano. Pitt ran over and picked up the piano stool, preparing to smash it into Darfur's face. The blow never fell.

With Kelly's arms clutched around his neck, Kanai brushed her away as if he she were a small rodent and brought the butt of his gun down on the back of Pitt's head. The blow did not knock him unconscious but unleashed a sea of pain that dropped Pitt to his knees, briefly causing him to black out. Consciousness slowly returned, and through a darkness that clouded his vision, he bec

ame aware of Kelly screaming. As his vision cleared, he saw Kanai holding her at bay, twisting her arm until it was a millimeter away from breaking. Kelly had attempted to wrest the gun away from him while his attention was focused on the one-sided fight between Pitt and Darfur.

Pitt was suddenly aware of being jerked to his feet by Darfur, who circled his arms around Pitt's chest, clutched his hands together and began to squeeze. The breath was slowly, irreversibly being compressed within his lungs is if he were being wrapped by a boa constrictor. His mouth was open, but he could not even utter a gasp. The blackness was returning, and he had no illusions of seeing daylight again. He felt his ribs on the verge of cracking, and he was within two seconds of giving in and letting death relieve his agony, when abruptly the pressure released and the arms around his chest loosened.

As if in a dream sequence, he saw Giordino walk into the room and kidney-punch Kanai from the rear, doubling him over in agony. Kanai dropped the gun and released his grip on Kelly's arm.

The other Vipers froze, their guns now aimed at Giordino, waiting for the word from Kanai to shoot.

Darfur gazed apprehensively at the intruder for a moment, but when he saw that Giordino was not carrying a firearm and was a good foot shorter than he, the look on his face reflected an air of disdain. "Leave him to me," he said fiendishly.