Page 150 of The Last Kingdom

He used that moment to snatch the weapon away and shoved the older man over a short wall of scattered rock into the lake. Fenn hit with a splash just as the sledgehammer finished its carnage and chunks of concrete and plaster rained down. Ming and the two men with guns raised their arms to shield their heads from the incoming storm of dust and debris. The sledgehammer completed its journey and pounded to the ground, not hitting anyone. He watched from the safety of the other side of the grotto.

Fenn stood in the waist-high water, no longer a threat.

Cotton marched around the lake on the narrow walkway. Pieces and particles continued to fall. Behind the three Chinese, through the dust cloud, he caught movement.

More threats had returned.

He stopped, took cover, and leveled his weapon, ready for a fight with whomever.

Luke appeared. Followed by Koger, one woman he did not know, the other woman the same one who’d been at Herrenchiemsee. All of them armed.

He lowered the gun and stepped out.

“Looks like you didn’t need much help,” Koger said.

He shrugged. “Good to see you too.”

But something required immediate attention. He walked straight to Ming, who was down on one knee, coughing out dust. Luke and the others disarmed the other two. He yanked Ming up. The walking stick dropped aside. He jammed the gun into Ming’s throat.

“Get your phone out and make the call. Tell them to stand down.”

Ming hesitated.

He clicked the hammer into place. “I have no problem blowing your head off. And, by the way, nobody would give a damn, since I’m not even supposed to be here.”

“I know I wouldn’t care,” Koger said. “Anybody else?”

“I’m good,” Luke noted.

Ming fished the phone from his coat pocket, punched in a number, then spoke in Chinese.

“English,” Cotton ordered.

“They do not speak it.”

“He just told them to kill her,” the older of the two women said. “Whoever ‘her’ is.”

He rapped the gun across the side of Ming’s face, sending the older man down. “You need to decide if this is worth dying for. One more time. Screw it up and you’re dead.” He aimed the gun at Ming. “Five seconds.”

Ming did nothing.

Blood trickled from the side of his mouth.

“Four.”

“Three.”

Ming raised the phone to his ear.

“Two.”

He tightened his arm, ready to fire.

The others stared in silence.

“One.”

“Stand down,” Ming said into the phone. In English. “Return to the consulate.”

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