Chase Baker and the Seventh Seal (A Chase Baker Thriller Book 9) by Vincent Zandri Page A

head rings.
    Then comes the pain.
    I give him a look that’s intended to kill. Sadly, it doesn’t work out that way.
    “Answer the man,” Mohawk says, smiling insistently. I get the feeling he believes he’s playing a part in a Hollywood B movie.
    “Or what?” I say. “Or the girl gets it? I’ve seen that flick a thousand times before on Netflix, asshole.”
    He slaps me again. This time, the pain is followed by little stars that revolve around my skull.
    Mahdi presses the knife tighter against Magda’s throat. She shrieks.
    “Now, tell me who you are working for,” he demands. “Who seeks the codices?”
    “I seek the codices,” I say. “I told you that already.”
    “Surly you must be working for somebody,” Mahdi Insists. “No one in their right mind would simply walk into this shop and demand them. You must have an employer.” Jabbing Magda with the blade again. “Now, who is he? Or is the employer a she?”
    “None of your business,” Magda says.
    Mahdi grabs a fist full of her hair, pulls her head back, presses the blade against the underside of her lower jaw. If he swipes the blade, he’ll instantly sever her carotid artery.
    “Stop!” I shout. “Just stop.” I’m trying to hold my hands up from down on my back, like a man who is already beaten yet still surrendering. “Okay, I’ll tell you who sent me here. But only if you let the girl go.”
    Mahdi laughs.
    “You reveal the name or names of your employer first,” he says, “and then I let her go.”
    A Mexican stand-off, only in Jerusalem in the Palestinian Quarter.
    The room goes silent — a silence filled with the sounds of the busy marketplace outside the ancient stone walls. For a split second, I consider telling Mahdi exactly what he wants to know. But then, out the corner of my eye, I see two armed figures entering the back room through the long curtain.
    Moshe and Itzy.
    “Ladies and gentlemen,” I whisper silently to myself. “The cavalry has arrived.”
     
     
     

 

    CHAPTER 20
     
    They’re both carrying their Uzi machine-pistols, which they hold in their dominant right hands. They raise the guns, plant their separate beads on Mr. Mohawk, and let her rip. A few of the rounds fly dangerously close to Mahdi’s head. But he ducks at just the right moment and the spray of rounds pokes holes in the brick wall behind his desk. Magda manages to pull herself away from his grip while he jumps over the desk, moving with the speed and agility of a man far younger. A drawer opens. He pulls out a revolver, fires.
    I grab Magda’s arm, yank her to the far side of the room, the two of us taking shelter beside the safe. Mr. Mohawk is hit, but he manages to return fire, hitting Moshe in the left thigh. Moshe goes down hard. Itzy, on the other hand, stands his ground as if impervious to the bullets whizzing all around him. He sprays Mr. Mohawk once more. This time, with a head shot that obliterates not only the head but the Mohawk like the feathers on field-shot pheasant.
    Magda screams.
    “Don’t look at it!” I shout.
    Mahdi is still returning fire from behind his desk. I plant a bead and shoot, but he’s too well protected. Both Moshe and Itzy drop their empty magazines, slap in new ones, and fire into the desk itself
    Then, from behind Mahdi, one of the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves does something remarkable. It opens, just like a door.
    Enter a half dozen more Mr. Mohawks.
     
     
     

 

    CHAPTER 21
     
    A good soldier always knows when to retreat.
    I might not be a soldier, but I’m no fool. Neither are the Hasidic brothers. All it takes is my giving them the eye, and Itzy grabs hold of Moshe while firing at the bandits and drags him back behind the curtain to safety.
    I pull Magda by the arm while unloading my magazine in the direction of the bandits who are now huddled behind Mahdi’s desk. Still, they return our fire, the bullets zipping past our ears like bees and ricocheting off the brick walls as we lunge through