At that moment, shadows separated from the trees and became black-robed monks.

Garin swore coarsely. "These guys are everywhere!" The shotgun came to his shoulder and he started firing at once, going forward after Roux all the same.

Annja fired, as well, but she didn't know if she hit anything or just added to the general confusion. Bullets pocked the rooftop, tearing shingles away at her feet.

Another round hit her, slamming into her high on the shoulder. The Kevlar vest did its job and didn't allow the bullet to penetrate, but the blunt trauma knocked her down all the same.

She fought her way back to her feet, stayed low and moved forward. When her second pistol fired dry, she whirled behind a tree, shoved the first one up under her arm to free her hand and reloaded the second. She was reloading the first when a monk leaped out of the shadows in front of her.

His face was dark and impassive. "We have come only for the charm," he said in a quiet, deadly voice. "That's all. You may live."

"I don't have it," Annja said as she brought the pistols up.

He leaped at her, his sword held high for a killing stroke.

Crossing the pistol barrels over her head, hoping she wasn't about to lose her fingers, Annja blocked the descending blade. When she was certain the sword had stopped short of splitting her skull and lopping her hands off, she snap-kicked the man in the groin, then again in the chest to knock him back from her.

Before Annja could get away, two more monks surrounded her. They didn't intend to use swords, though. They held pistols.

"Move and you die," one of them warned.

Annja froze.

"Drop the pistols."

She did, but her mind was flying, looking for any escape route.

One of the monks spun suddenly, his face coming apart in crimson ruin. The bark of the gunshot followed almost immediately.

The surviving monks turned to face the new threat. Muzzle-flashes ripped at the night and lit their hard-planed faces.

Garin fired the shotgun again, aiming at the nearest target. The monk moved just ahead of the lethal hail of pellets that tore bark from the tree behind him.

While the attention was off her, Annja stooped and scooped up the pistols. Just as she lifted them, a monk rushed Garin from the rear, following his sword.

"Behind you!" Annja pointed the pistols toward the monk, but Garin swung around into her line of fire.

The sword sliced through Garin's black leather jacket. Coins and the keys to his car glittered in the moonlight as they spilled out. Catching the man on the end of the shotgun's barrel, Garin loosed a savage yell and fired.

Trapped against the body with nowhere for the expanding gases to go, the shotgun recoil was magnified. Caught while turning on the soft loam, Garin went down under the monk's body. Carried by the forward momentum he'd built up, almost ripped in half by the shotgun blast, the dead man wrapped his arms around Garin's upper body.

Shouting curses, Garin rolled out from under the corpse and pushed himself to his feet. Gunshots slapped against his chest. Another cut the side of his face and blood wept freely. He pulled the shotgun to his shoulder and tried to fire, but it was empty.

He looked at Annja. "Run!" Then he sped up the mountainside as fast as he could go.

Annja tried to follow. Before she went more than ten feet, the arriving monks turned on her. The escape route was cut off. She didn't know if Garin was going to make it before he was overtaken.

Metal glinted on the ground only a few feet away. Even as she recognized what the object was, she was firing both pistols, chasing the monks back into hiding. It was a brief respite at best.

When both SIG-Sauers blasted empty, she dropped the pistol from her left hand and scooped up Garin's keys amid the scattered change lying on the ground. Then she turned and ran back down the mountain. Garin's car, almost as heavily armored as a tank, still sat out in front of the main house. If she could reach the car, she thought she had a chance.

Chapter 18

"STOP HER BUT do not kill her!"

As she ran, Annja knew the command gave her a slight edge over the monks pursuing her. She didn't try running back onto the roof of the house. Monks were already taking up perimeter positions atop it.

Instead, Annja ran for the side of the house. When she was past the house's edge, she put the car fob between her teeth, shifted the pistol to her left hand and used her right to drag against the house. Her fingers clutched and tore at ivy as she began the steep descent.

She ran faster and faster, gaining speed as gravity reached for her and she raced to keep up the pace by lengthening her stride. But in the end she didn't have a stride long enough to remain in control.

Somewhere past the second story, Annja's foot slipped on a rock, her hand tore through the clinging ivy and she grabbed a handful of air.

She fell.

Tumbling end over end, unable to control either her speed or her direction, Annja gathered a collection of bruises and scrapes. She landed with a force that left her breathless.

Get up! she willed herself. Somehow, her body obeyed, pushing, shoving, working even though she felt as if she'd been broken into pieces. Incredibly, her knees came up and she was driving her feet hard against the ground.

Bullets slammed into the house beside her and into the ground. A man stepped out of the darkness ahead of her. She brought her pistol up automatically and fired for the center of his body. The bullets hit him and drove him back.

She was around the house and running for all she was worth. Shadows closed in around her. She couldn't help wondering how many members belonged to the Silent Rain monastery.

She thought of the sword in her hand. The look and feel of it, the weight, it was almost there. As if she could reach out and touch it.

Everyone around her seemed to be moving in slow motion. But she moved at full speed.

Bullets thudded into the ground where she'd been. She moved more quickly than the monks could compensate. When she saw Garin's Mercedes, monks flanked it, standing at either end. One stood on the hood of the car and raised an assault rifle.

She didn't hesitate; there was nowhere else to go. Pointing the pistol, never breaking stride, she found she'd fired it dry. Knowing that if she turned away she would only be an easier target, she ran straight toward the monk and leaped, sliding across the car's hood and knocking her opponent from his feet as he fired over her head.

Landing on the other side of the car in a confusing tangle of arms and legs, she fought free and stood. The man standing at the rear of the car tried to turn but he was too slow. She swung the empty pistol at the base of his skull and knocked him out.

As the man fell, she stepped forward and delivered a roundhouse kick to the monk in front of the car. Her foot caught him in the chest and knocked him backward several feet.

Annja was too scared to be amazed. Adrenaline, she told herself. She'd never kicked anyone that hard in her life.

She slid behind the wheel, keyed the ignition and heard the powerful engine roar to life, and shoved it into gear. The rear wheels spun and caught traction, then she was hurtling forward.

The front gates were still locked. Annja mentally crossed her fingers and hoped that the armored car was sufficient for the task. As she drove into the gate, she ducked her head behind her arms and hung on to the steering wheel.

For a moment, it sounded as if the world were coming to an end. An ugly image of her trapped and burning in the car filled her head. Fire had always been one of her greatest fears.

The car shuddered and jerked. Then, miraculously, it powered through the broken, sagging tangle of gates. Sparks flared around her as the car rode roughshod over the gates. She was on the other side, fighting the sudden fishtailing as the car lunged briefly out of control.