The Tomb of the Gods (Matt Drake 4) by David Leadbeater

here and certainly not among civilized people.”
    Drake caught hold of Dahl’s shoulder. “No time to argue. Go.”
    They ran along the path and passed under the castle walls into a suffused dimness. Alicia was just descending a stairwell to the left, hissing with distaste.
    “Bloody regimentals got to ‘em first. That leaves me with a zero body count so far.” The Englishwoman looked glum.
    Mai caught up. “So take point and stop your whining.”
    “My pleasure.”
    “Alright.” Drake spotted two exits. He was about to follow Hayden and Kinimaka as they stalked toward the farthest when a stream of enemy soldiers suddenly burst from both doors. Drake rolled as gunfire erupted. Everyone evaded as best they could, leaping sideways or even falling backward. A hail of bullets was not something to confront standing up. But when Drake hit the deck, he was already aiming and squeezing the trigger of his M16. His skull struck concrete, but his aim didn’t waver. Bullets strafed the room, whizzing and zipping from wall to wall. Boots came toward his face. With his hands full of rifle, he had little chance of defending himself.
    He braced for the impact and hoped not to lose too many teeth.
    Then the boots skipped sideways and folded. A second later, a body landed beside him. He found himself staring into the newly dead eyes of a pock-marked mercenary.
    A hand appeared. A voice. “You owe me. Saved your looks.” Then a sigh. “Such as they are.”
    Alicia had gotten her first kill. Drake jumped up, saw a man wearing leather leaping at him, pounding hard, gun drifting up. Drake moved faster than his opponent’s eye could follow. Hand strikes to the body and the head, all purposely aimed and weighted to rupture organs and snap bones. Another enemy body came at him, but his focus was solely on the parts of the body where he could cause maximum damage in minimum time. He didn’t even see the face of the man he killed.
    He finally earned some breathing space. Hayden and Kinimaka fought at the front of a pack, which included the four SAS soldiers. Dahl battled over on the other side of the room, helping Komodo and his Delta team while also protecting the non-fighters. Alicia fought on her own. The joint prowess of his team members impressed him, and they swiftly overtook their opponents.
    But it was Mai Kitano who cut them down. Wherever she went, men lay convulsing in her wake. Fear spread among their enemies as the Japanese woman inched toward them. When a man tried to spray the room with automatic fire, Mai grabbed his arm and shoved it down so the first burst fired into the floor. With superhuman speed, she twisted his wrist, snapping it, but keeping the barrel steady so that the second burst ravaged his nearby colleagues. When he fell to his knees, Mai made sure the third burst ended up in his skull.
    Between them, Mai and Alicia mopped up the remainder of their assailants. When they had finished, the two women stared at each other.
    Alicia said, “Maybe we should start keeping a head count. The winner gets to—” Her eyes swiveled toward Drake as Hayden’s shout drowned everything out.
    “Let’s go!”
    Mai ran to the hole in the wall, peering through and then signaling the all clear. They jogged after her, leaving their dead and dying enemies behind. The castle was a warren of rooms, some partly furnished and some left barren and bare. Modern displays and cabinets clashed with ancient austerity. The empty rooms felt haunted and lonely, things that could not quite be seen shifted among the dirt and the dust, befitting for a structure built atop a tomb of the most wicked gods ever known. The wind whistled through gaps in the windows and through hidden loopholes among the battlements. More than one empty shadow made the group turn their heads as they ran past.
    Mai led the way, following footsteps and wisps of smoke and damage left by the modern-day invaders. Bluetooth chatting kept them organized and highly alert.