The Twelve Zenati Pt. 38

Noah looked out at the sand and dust that swirled around them. He wished he had a miracle owed to him from any deity or culture, but what he had was here and now and an undying need to keep Marcella safe. If this was where they would make their stand, then so be it. He took the black blade he had made when he had lost her to the Varangian and pressed it into her hand. If things went pear-shaped, he didn't want her completely unarmed and unable to defend herself. She looked down, not at all surprised and pulled the blade to her lap, hiding it in the folds of her shirt with a silent nod.

"You built this rig?" Noah asked Dougy.

"Yeah, she tough enough to withstand a couple of charging bulls at top speed," Dougy nodded, also doing the math on what their options were.

"So, a landed bird shouldn't be a problem then," Noah said with a quiet calm that spoke of his resolve to protect the woman he loved at any cost.

"No problem at all," Dougy turned his head, a small smile coming over his face.

"Fuck it! I'm wearing the jersey," AJ pronounced into the quiet calm of the truck. "It's better than the fucking cape, anyway."

"Yeah," Marcella laughed at the absurdity of the moment. "Cover all that up for me, will you. It's distracting."

There was a beat of silence, and then all three men laughed with her as they watched the helicopter edge closer its skids close to the ground. Whoever was flying it knew what they were doing.

*****

It was Orpheo Pellegrini who noticed the dust cloud in the distance first. He edged up into the man in front, moving into his periphery and signalled and then turned his bike to head towards what his gut told him was where he needed to be. The other riders didn't question it. Instead, they took the predetermined cues from each other and turned to the dust ball that seemed to be coming closer to them. Finally, Valdemar Zenati signalled after another fifteen minutes, and the twelve men stopped and shut off their bikes at another hand signal from Lawrence Donati. He had been riding at Valdemar's right. The two had become the self-nominated leaders in their territories, and the others accepted the fact without fuss.

"Helicopter," Chase Vitali said, feeling the thump of the rotors on the air.

"Something happened in camp," Orpheo shook his head, trying to make sense of the feeling he had. "The ones we are here for are that way, either in the helicopter or being chased by it. You need to trust me on this."

"That's a big ask," Lawrence said, drawing a breath, knowing the other families weren't as suspicious of the Pellegrini as he was.

"The whole point of this was to tear the families apart, and what you just said proves it. It's time to trust each other, and if I'm honest, I think he's right this time," Red Sergi nodded.

"Sitting here is getting us nowhere we can split up and ride in both directions or stay together," Chase said, not willing to risk any more time on petty shit like this. "I'm with Red and Orpheo. The rest of you make your own minds up." He crammed his helmet back on and started towards the dust cloud.

"I got nothing but respect for you guys. If they think it's right, I will follow," Valdemar said. He had a firm belief in the oracle's powers and the power of gut feelings amongst the men in his family. He'd seen their curse in action enough times not to second guess any mystical feelings. Right now, his gut told him to follow rather than lead, and that was good enough for him.

"I'm with you," Larry said, burying his personal distrust of the Pellegrini family for the good of the tables. The remaining men caught up with their brothers within minutes, and they sped towards the dust ball on the horizon, the thumping noise of the helicopter becoming more evident above the smooth sound of the bike engines.

Cresting the last dune, they could see down into the small gully where a strange-looking vehicle that seemed to be surrounded by homemade armour plating was backed against a colourful rock wall. By a helicopter that was attempting to land and kicking up even more dust and sand as it did so. To even try and get close would be stupid. They would be able to see even less than they could now. The lead bikes stopped and, after a moment, pulled off their helmets.

"I don't care which one of you does it, but someone better get some software for us to talk to each other without taking off the helms if we are going to continue these road trips together. Keeping our tables secrets secret is one thing, but there has to be some joint frequency we can exploit," Zakarij Gastone grumbled.

"Any other thoughts on how we can get in there without going blind and killing ourselves?" Paulo Farnese asked. "Mick and me avoid the deserts in our territories for obvious reasons," he said, nodding at Mick and shaking the sand out of the scarf he had been wearing. They all had bikes created for the conditions, but it was still tough to ride through it all.

"If we go down there, we sacrifice our bikes, that's a given, but I bet we could do some damage if we can get some air off those rocks down there," Gian Armarti grinned.

"Only an Amarti would be thinking about aerial stunts at a time like this," Chase chuckled. "Alright, I'm in. I reckon I could pull a couple of stunts out of my box of tricks if those rocks slant right." He pulled on some goggles to have a close look.

"So, we're doing this?" Orpheo asked, still unsure of the Australian humour and not sure when they were joking or telling tall stories or when they were serious about putting their lives in danger by trying to perform some sort of tricks with their bikes while essentially being blind to the landscape and even more importantly the rotor blades of the helicopter.

"I reckon we aim for the tail. We take that out of commission. They won't have the stability they need to take off even if they do get who or what they came for," Mick said. Helicopters were his thing living in such a vast territory. He also knew Valdemar was a flyer and looked at him for confirmation.

"That'd do it," Valdemar nodded. "Though any damage will put them out of commission in the desert. Sand gets in the engine their fucked no matter how you look at it." There was a general consensus of agreement.

"Someone watch Chase and me go first, so we know who scores best. Then, the winner gets to play for a day in the others garage," he chuckled and held his fist out to Chase for a bump.

"Done," Chase agreed, thinking he would do that anyway. But, he'd always wanted to play on a snow ski and hadn't had the chance yet."

"I'm impartial at this point, so I got you," Orpheo laughed and shook his head, taking his goggles from his saddlebag.

"That's fair. See you on the other side," Gian grinned and revved his bike, racing toward the standoff between the helicopter and strange vehicle.

"Regardless of what he's offering, if you're making those armoured vehicles, our first reunion is in your garage," Chase said to Valdemar and put his helmet on before following Gian down into the desert.

"Yeah, I can get on board with a reunion at Val's garage," Mick said and, with the others, also began securing his helmet and preparing to go down and do as much damage as they could to whoever had cornered the Zenati vehicle.

*****

It seemed to happen so quickly that Noah couldn't quite work out what was happening. The helicopter had seemed suspended in the air before their vehicle bringing up a dust cloud to make their visibility almost nothing. Suddenly the roar of another engine intruded on them, and dark shadows raced through the cloud beyond what they could make out clearly. Then the helicopter dropped and tilted to the side, its rotor digging into the sand and dragging it forward.

They seemed to hold their collective breath until Dougy seemed to wake up and pushed his foot back onto the gas spinning the wheel and barely missing the landing skids as he took off away from the flailing machine. Then, when they were far enough away, he turned again to see what was happening.

"Seems you got your miracle after all," AJ said with a little bit of awe in his voice. "Your brothers showed up with seconds to spare," he noted, looking at the men and the bikes circling the stricken helicopter as it came to rest in a massive cloud of dust and dirt. Dark figures scrambled from its interior, and they were rounded up one by one.

Marcella felt like an age had passed before the men they travelled with let her and Noah out of the truck. She approached the men sitting in the centre of a ring of motorcycles, unconcerned that they would hurt her in any way. She held the hem of her shirt in one hand, still concealing the knife Noah had given her, which seemed to have slipped his mind.

"I know you," she said to one of the men. "You're one of his generals. Did he send you here for me or for whatever you could find?"

"His obsession with you would have killed us all," the man snarled. "You were not worth this war of his when we needed to regroup. So he did not send me here. I came to end you and his obsession so we could recoup our losses and go back to the bigger plan," he spat.

"You don't honestly think that's possible now, do you?" Red asked from where he sat astride his road bike. "There are twelve riders here representing the twelve tables and their families and working together for the greater good. There is no world you could create to make Donati forsake Pellegrini or Vitali turn his back on Papillo. Do I need to go on?" he asked seriously.

"We have our difference, but they will always be less than the sum of our bonds with each other. Even with all the damage you have done to my family, we are still here and trusted by the twelve," Cesare Battaglia, who had been silent for much of the trip, spoke. "She plans to end you with that black blade she has hidden in her shirt, and I'm inclined to defend her right to do that because of all the families represented here; I owe her at least that much in reparation."

"You what?" Marcella gasped, turning to look at the man who had spoken.

"What would you prefer. I can hold the general in place for you if you like, or I can do the deed for you and save your conscience. Killing is a dirty business best left to warriors such as myself and your beloved. Perhaps you would have him do the deed?" Cesare asked, truly curious now as he stepped closer to Konrad's general.

"I gave you that for self-defence, not murder Marcie," Noah said gently. "You're not a murderer. Even with everything that has happened to you and the people you love, you're not a killer."

"There's a pretty deep mineshaft in my backyard I could drop him into," Mick offered with only a tiny curving of his full lips to show how much he would enjoy that.

"I've got a hidden ghost town where we could find some room for him," Benji Papillo offered with an evil grin.

"So many options. You know we'd love to have the generals company too," Cesare chuckled. "I doubt he'd like it much, but that's a moot point right now. What's it to be, Marcella?"

"I..." Marcella started, then stopped and lifted the blade in her hand to the sun, noting that only the edge gleamed as the flat black metal soaked up all the sun. "This was made by the man who claims to love me for the express purpose of killing Konrad, and it would be a shame to use it for anything else don't you think?" she asked in a cool, eerily calm voice. "So, if you tell me where he is and what his plans for me were, I will ask one of the less bloodthirsty tables to take you into custody. Maybe the Donati's? Oh, that's right, you screwed them over more than even me. So, few options are available to you now. Perhaps, the Battaglia is best. Justice is their speciality, after all."

"There's a Sergi here?" he asked.

"I am Red Sergi, and if you were expecting me to be less savage than my brethren because we are known to be peacemakers think again," the man said, his back stiffening like he was being accused of being in league with this man.

"No, but that is why Konrad is staying on your side of the border rather than retrieving his pet for himself," the general spat.

"That's a lie. He's not in Mount Isa with your thugs," Red admonished. "You don't think we're that clueless, do you?"

"You're right. He's not, but what the fuck do I care right now. It's a well-known fact that Varangians are the true descendants of the best of the best Viking mercenaries, and that hasn't changed. At the moment, you have the bigger purse, so to speak. So, my intel is probably worth our lives, and if it turns out to be true, our freedom," he narrowed his eyes at the man he thought he would have the most chance of negotiating with for a reprieve. "We'll come quietly until you reach a place where you can get a signal out to your people, and then we will negotiate our release."

"How about I just let Noah kill you now for all of the trauma you have inflicted on his lady," Red shrugged as if that was the preferable option. "I mean, if you did that to my wife, we wouldn't be discussing the matter at all. So if you think I am the safe bet, you should think again. Pellegrini is probably your man because he's new, but that could also mean he wants to prove himself to the rest of us. I don't know. Amarti's are the lovers of the group, right?"

"Yeah, but our Amarti is certifiably insane. Did you see what he did to their chopper? Without a scratch to him or his bike?" Orpheo asked. "Sorry, Chase, he got you on points for that one."

"Only because he rode first and the shit chopper started to spin," Chase grumbled. "Fine, you can come to raid my garage after we find out where they build those bull catchers," Chase indicated the armour-plated vehicle the two ringers stood in front of with their arms crossed, watching the proceedings.

"Dougy built it. It would be best if you asked him about it. Val's too citified. The truck he built barely lasted a season of bull charges. It had so many holes from being rammed by the bull horns we had to retire it before it fell apart," AJ laughed loudly as Valdemar turned a hard glare on him. "You know it's true, brother. He's a great driver, though. We hunt with him whenever he comes back to country."

"That sounds like a challenge to me. One that I'd me more than happy to help you with, my friend," Gian Amarti grinned widely.

"I'm in," Chase chuckled. "We better clean up this mess first, though. "Val, take Red and Zed and head over toward the original rendezvous point. There should be a tower around there. Find out what's going on, check in with our details, and get back to us as soon as possible. We can't have been far away from the spot."

"Or, we load those buggars into the back of the truck, and we all go," Dougy announced, fishing a cordless drill from a side toolbox that sat camouflaged within the plating. He began removing some of the panels to show a tray on the back of the twin cab.

"If they're stupid enough to jump out and go it alone in the desert without their phones or water, I say good luck to them," AJ agreed and went to help Dougy. "Besides, if we left you for even a minute, Whipper would kill us deader dead, and no one wants that."

"No indeed," Gian chuckled and went forward to help with the truck as well.

"Val," Noah called to his cousin and went over to where he stood with a shellshocked Marcella, not expecting the others to all fall into a circle around them. But, instead of moving away, Noah placed an arm around Marcella, keeping her close as she looked bewildered by the attention they garnered. Then he told them what he knew.

"Your team was one of five closing in on the camp where we stayed last night. I don't know how safe it will be to return. There were bikers from the northeast, Mount Isa probably. Some from the north seemed to be on course to intercept the first group. A road train is coming from the southwest and another group due west."

"So, you're telling us you're fucked, and now we're fucked right along with you," Lawrence ran his fingers through his hair and puffed out a long breath.

"No, man," Red said as if he knew that wasn't the case at all. "The Tartar is turning. That's probably the southwest contingent, the road train. I imagine they will cut off whoever is coming from the west. As for the North and Northeast, Mount Isa was locked down this morning. So if anyone got out, they aren't important. I guess the north is where Konrad is hiding and sweating over a game board as all his pieces go missing. Maybe double-check exactly what direction that northern group are headed. How far out did you think they were?"

"Half a day or so," Noah said, scratching at his cheek. It couldn't possibly be this easy. All these months of fighting the game master and his minions, it was over in a minor skirmish and Konrad wasn't even here to face him. He felt deflated by Red's words, and no matter how he processed it, he just couldn't believe that it could be over so abruptly. He needed to see Konrad for himself, dead or alive, before he would believe it.

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves. Gian and Chase can scout ahead with me to the camp you were at," Valdemar said. "You can follow, and if it's not clear, we'll double back and make a new plan."

"That's fair," they all nodded and agreed with Noah before the scouts headed to their bikes while the other made sure the Varangians were secured in the back of the plated truck.

*****

When they arrived, the camp seemed calm, with about half of the occupants returned to help with surveillance and disseminating information. Valdemar and his two companions idled about three hundred metres away, waiting to be recognised and acknowledged. They didn't look under duress or pressure from unknown enemies. On the contrary, they looked jovial, if anything and Valdemar frowned, slowly riding forward to greet the men operating the communications centre in the middle of the desert.

By the time the rest of the men with Noah and Marcella arrived, Valdemar had caught up on the information coming out of the various sectors and was able to get everyone up to speed. Only the Zenati and the Farnese had come under attack this time. He kept a steady hand on Paulo's shoulder as he spoke of injuries to watchers and several doctors when he relayed the news of the explosion that levelled the wing of the hospital Jessa had been confined to along with her mother.

"They're dead?" Marcella whispered.

"I'm sorry, Marcella. There is no easy way to deliver news like that," he said.

"What about the boys?" she asked, her voice sounding choked.

'They were staying with Massimo and Constance. They are okay. We think he was only targeting your sisters," Valdemar said quietly.

"I'll call home and ensure they are well cared for," Paulo offered.

"Noah, there's more," Valdemar swallowed heavily. "Gideon was caught in one of the explosions. He's alive, but it's bad."

"Vivienne is in the Kimberley, right?" Noah asked, his voice tight and expression stiff. He didn't want to lose it in front of Marcella, who would only blame herself.

"Yeah, she's fine with her brother," Valdemar nodded.

"Olivia? She was with Genesis," Marcella cut across his words reeling from the death of her older sister and mother. She needed to know Olivia was safe. If not, then what was this all for in the end?

"No one has been able to find them, there was an explosion off the coast, but we don't know that it was them," he said slowly as if not wanting to deliver the news.

"Noah, you have to get me to Darwin. You need to get me to where I can do something, anything. I can't just sit here safe with you while they are lost or hurting," she pleaded, and he wrapped her in his arms.

"Okay, we'll get there," he said, feeling the same sense of urgency around his brothers. "You just have to give me time to organise it. If we tried to drive, it would take days. So you have to give me some time. We can drive to Alice, but I will need someone with a plane there," he started thinking through his options. "Val, get me a phone and be prepared to leave your bike and fly us home." He said as a plan began to form in his mind.