“Ms. Frost, wait!” Chase shouted again as he hurried down the stairs to the pad. “Kari! It’s not safe!”

“We have to get the artifact!” she answered, fumbling with the handle. Inside she could see Hajjar slumped in his seat, blood running from a cut on his forehead. The catch clicked, and she pulled the door open-

Hajjar burst into life, swinging his right hand at her and slicing right through the sleeve of her coat. She screamed as blood spattered the pure white material. Instinctively she clutched at the wound with her other hand.

In that moment Hajjar leapt from the cockpit and knocked her onto her back, pinning her to the ground as he pressed the tip of the serrated blade against her throat. The modified M11 was in his other hand.

“Drop your guns or she dies!” he yelled. “Now!”

Chase realized that even a head shot would be no use in this situation-if Hajjar fell, he would drive the blade through Kari’s neck with the weight of his own body. With no choice, he dropped the Wildey. Castille did the same with his rifle. They kicked the fallen guns away.

“Good,” said Hajjar. Still holding his knife-hand against Kari, he rose to a crouch and brought his gun around to cover Chase and Castille. “Her I still want alive. You? Not so-”

Blam!

A bullet smacked into the fuselage, punching a hole through the thin sheet metal. Everyone looked up to see Nina standing in the broken window, aiming the dead bodyguard’s MP-5 down at the helicopter.

“Let her go, Hajjar!” she yelled.

“Nina, don’t shoot him!” Chase warned. “If he falls, he’ll cut her throat!”

“Let her go!”

“You have never used a gun before, have you?” Hajjar called mockingly. “I can tell just from the way you are holding it! Do you really think you can hit me before I kill her?”

“I wasn’t aiming at you!” she answered.

Castille raised an eyebrow. “I hope you weren’t aiming at Ms. Frost!”

Hajjar’s voice was still filled with derision. “Then what?”

“I was aiming at the gas tank. Which is now on fire.”

All heads turned back to the crashed aircraft. Dirty black smoke rose from the engine cowling, whipped up by the spinning rotor.

Momentarily frightened by the new danger, Hajjar flinched, the pressure of the blade easing-

Giving Kari the chance to snatch up her left hand and force the weapon away from her neck.

She felt one of the serrations tear her skin, but it was just a scratch. The instant the cold metal was clear of her throat, she swept up her right hand to deliver a karate blow to Hajjar’s jaw. Her awkward position didn’t provide much leverage, but the heel of her palm still struck hard enough to drive his lower jaw against his upper with a sharp crack of snapping teeth. Spitting blood, he let out a gurgling scream and staggered backwards. Kari rolled away, and Chase leapt over her to tackle Hajjar.

“Get the thing!” he shouted at Kari as he struggled with the Iranian, grabbing his wrists. Hajjar was stronger than he looked, muscle beneath the fat. And he had a lethal weapon in each hand, while all Chase had were his two fists.

Kari scrambled to her feet, keeping her head low to avoid the rotor blades. She moved to the open cockpit door.

“No! Kari! It’s in his bag!” Nina yelled.

Chase looked down. Hajjar had a satchel over one shoulder-

The brief distraction was enough to give Hajjar an opportunity. Driven by pain and fury, he twisted his left wrist and squeezed the trigger of the Ingram. Flames exploded from the barrel of the evil little machine pistol, the fire close enough to burn Chase’s cheek and neck as the bullets seared past. Castille, running to help his partner, abruptly changed course and pulled Kari away as the shots raked along the helicopter’s side.

Hajjar brought his gun around for a lethal shot.

Two fists, and one head-

Chase pounded a crunching head butt straight into the Iranian’s face, crushing his nose flat in a rosette of blood. “Stitch that!”

More smoke belched from the chopper, the crackle of flames rising even above the howl of the engine.

Still gripping Hajjar’s wrists, Chase pulled his dazed opponent upright. “Hajjar!” he yelled. “Hands up!” He lifted Hajjar’s arms into the air-

Hajjar realized what was about to happen, but too late.

His good hand and the Ingram it was clutching disintegrated in a shower of gore and shattered steel as Chase thrust them into the spinning rotor blades. His knife-hand fared no better, the eight-inch blade snapping like a lollipop stick before the whirling rotor took another two inches off the stump of his wrist.

Hajjar stared in horrified disbelief at the blood gushing from the ends of his arms. Then he looked down as the Englishman swung him around-

Chase’s huge fist delivered a pile-driver blow square in the middle of his flattened, bloodied face. Hajjar staggered back, falling into the cockpit as Chase snagged the strap of his satchel, pulling it from him.

The impact rocked the helicopter, which creaked ominously as its weight shifted.

Chase turned and ran, seeing Castille already racing away for the cover of the stairs with Kari right beside him.

The first lick of flames escaped the battered fuselage, curling around the top of the engine casing as the helicopter toppled completely onto its side. What was left of the rotor blades plowed into the concrete and shattered, torque grinding the chopper’s nose into the helipad. Fuel spilled from the ruptured tanks, raining down on to the burning engine-

Hajjar screamed, but the sound was completely obliterated as the helicopter exploded.

Castille and Kari threw themselves into the arched doorway at the bottom of the stairs. Chase, some yards behind them, could only dive for the ground.

Burning debris rained down, but the fuselage had contained most of the blast. The largest pieces landed well short of him. That didn’t stop a few smaller chunks of mangled metal striking his back and legs. He yelled in pain.

“Edward!” Castille shouted, running back to him.

“Shit!” Chase said, standing painfully and clutching his leg. “Feels like I got kicked by a fucking horse!”

Nina ran down the stairs to Kari. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine!” she said, eyes wide with gratitude. Both women hurried over to Chase. “Did you get the artifact?”

“Are you all right?” Nina asked at the same time. They exchanged smiles, then hurried over to him.

“You see? Helicopters!” said Castille, waving a hand at the burning wreckage. “Twice in five minutes one has almost killed me! Vehicles of the Devil!”

“Hugo? Shut it,” Chase told him wearily, limping to pick up his Wildey.

“The artifact?” Kari asked.

He handed her the satchel. “Here. Hope it’s worth it.”

“It is,” she said, opening the bag and carefully lifting out the metal bar. The nearby flames reflecting from its surface gave it even more of a glow. “This is it,” she said, passing it reverently to Nina. “This is the path to Atlantis.”

Nina took it, examining the symbols scribed into the metal. At once familiar, yet different, mysterious. Then she looked back at Kari. “Not wanting to put a downer on things, but before we go looking for Atlantis, we are still stuck in Iran.”

“I wouldn’t say we’re completely stuck,” said Chase. “I saw something that might be handy…”

Hajjar’s other men were either dead, or had decided that survival outweighed loyalty to their late employer and run away. The group encountered no further resistance as Chase led them to the main courtyard.

In the northeastern corner was a set of large doors. He swung them open.

“Hajjar’s taxi service,” he proclaimed, sweeping an arm at the rows of expensive vehicles parked within. “Not quite as good as your collection, boss, but it’ll do. So, what do you want?”