by Brad Taylor
She held it there for a heartbeat, then whispered, “No.”
She looked at Pike and for the first time in her professional life drew a line. She said, “No, we don’t kill this man. It’s not right.”
Aaron gave a slight nod and she torqued the Russian’s wrist back hard, causing the man to keen like a wounded rabbit. She snapped the bone, and he passed out.
She looked at Pike and said, “I will not push you into the abyss.”
Chapter 41
Amena sprinted through the darkness, reaching the parking lot of the Fort Moultrie visitors’ center, the men behind her still coming strong through the grass of the park. She reached the road that separated the modern center from the ancient fort itself, and a light rain began to fall. She heard the slapping of feet on the asphalt of the parking lot and darted across the road.
She reached the walled exterior of the old fort and went left, following the brick and stone until she came up against a chain link fence that was anchored to the edge of the wall.
She scaled it, flopping on the far side, now into the fort itself. She sprinted up a berm until she was adjacent to a radar tower built during World War II. She squatted down, listening.
She heard the men searching, trying to find where she had gone. She peeked over the side of the berm and saw them frantically probing the fence line, then one pointed down it, into the old bastions leading to Charleston Harbor and away from her.
That wouldn’t do.
Her goal was to keep them out of the house, and she knew that if they didn’t find her—if they ran down the fence line without discovering her—they would return to the house for further instructions, possibly taking Kylie somewhere else. She couldn’t afford for them to give up.
She stood, a part of her brain wondering about her sanity. A year ago, she would have fled the area completely, leaving behind the threat and leaving Kylie to her fate. Now she was embracing it.
Because of family.
Pike Logan had broken open heaven and earth to save her once, and he would do so again. She just needed to play her part, which meant keeping these jerks in the game.
As they walked away, she frantically searched the ground around her, her eyes settling on a cinder block laying in the grass. She kicked it over, letting it roll off the berm and crash into the pavement below. The men turned around at the noise, and she gave them a half second of her shadow in the harsh glow of a vapor lamp, then sprinted away.
She heard them coming, heard the chain link rattle from their climb, and she darted into a tunnel, waiting in the dampness, an emergency exit bulb faintly illuminating the stone, but she didn’t need the light. She knew exactly where she was.
Constructed during the Revolutionary War, Fort Moultrie had the distinction of being the site of the first major patriot victory over England. Since then, the fort had been built and rebuilt as a coastal defense for the United States, finally falling into disuse after World War II. The repeated renovations had left the old fort riven with a mishmash of bunkers, batteries, and armories all interconnected by tunnels, and had become Amena’s playground. Since they’d moved to the safe house, it was the only place that Veep let her go alone. With the presence of the national park police and heavy tourist traffic, he’d allowed her to leave their safe house and scamper across the grounds. Because of it, she knew every square inch.
Unlike the men chasing her.
She heard the men rattling around like drunks near the old radar post, then begin rushing down the hill, reaching the entrance to her tunnel. They were so close she could hear them breathe. One said something in Russian, and she heard the footsteps separate.
She crept away from the entrance, wanting to always maintain an escape route. Always leave herself a way out. She knew this tunnel went all the way through the fort, with bunkers left and right. She slid down the stone wall until she reached an ammunition hold built for the Civil War, knowing it had a ladder that led to the surface in the rear. She entered it, crouching down and scurrying across the concrete. She knelt in the darkness, breathing with an open mouth and listening.
She heard footsteps in the tunnel, then a shouted command, the two men trying to coordinate a systematic search, one outside and one inside. The footsteps grew louder and she saw a flash of light.
A gun light.
The flash startled her, and she felt a moment of panic. Like an idiot, she’d expected the men to be operating on her playing field. If she had to run in the dark, so would they. Or so she’d planned.
She knew the bunker was barren concrete, with nowhere to hide. She realized she was caught. She’d expected them to run right by, and then she’d come out, make a noise, and cause them to run in a different direction. But that wasn’t going to happen.
She heard the footsteps slapping concrete, the light flashing closer and closer, and reached for the ladder. She began climbing, getting into the shaft above the bunker, pulling her feet up out of sight, and then heard the other one above her, shouting directions. She froze, not wanting to make a sound.
She saw the light reach the entrance to her bunker, then heard the man say something in a language she didn’t understand. The man above her shouted back and moved on. She clung to the ladder like a spider in a rainstorm, afraid to move.
She saw the light enter the bunker and felt her phone vibrate, demanding attention. She ignored it, waiting on the man to leave.
He did so, the space falling blessedly dark.
She pulled the phone out of her pocket and hit redial for the missed call. It connected and she heard Nicholas Seacrest, breathless, “Amena?”
She whispered, “Yes. Yes.”
He wasted no time determining her status, saying, “I have a grid, but it’s showing you inside the fort. I’m coming, but I need to know where you are. The grid is off.”
And she relaxed.
There were very few people Amena trusted on this earth, but Seacrest was one of them. He’d saved her life in Switzerland, and since then, since the death of Kurt, he’d proven that he cared. He was family.
He wasn’t Pike Logan, but he was a wrecking machine.
She said, “The grid is correct. I’m in the fort. There are two men after me, and I’m going to set them up for you.”
He said, “Set them up? Wait, I’m at the fort. Where do I go?”
She gave him directions to the fence, then for where she was, saying, “You’ll see the end of the tunnel when you reach the berm. I’m coming straight out of it. The man in here will be chasing me.”
She heard nothing for a moment, then, “I’m over the fence. I see the tunnel. Stand by, I’m coming in. Don’t put yourself in jeopardy. I’m here.”
She watched the light fade from her bunker and said, “I’m coming now.”
She heard, “Amena! No!”
And she took off running. She heard the man with the gun light whirl at her noise, and then give chase. She sprinted as fast as she could, hearing him shouting in Russian to his partner. She broke out into an open field, felt the breath of the man right behind her, and then heard him grunt like he’d been hammered with a sledge.
Still running flat out, she looked behind her, and saw the man on his back, Veep above him. She slowed, turned around, and the man sprang up, bringing his weapon to bear. She saw two flashes of light from Veep’s muzzle, the sound from the bullets muted by his suppressor, but the damage violent. The man staggered like he’d been hit with a baseball bat, then folded over, collapsing on the ground.
She ran back to him and he said, “Are you fucking nuts?”
She said, “There’s one more. One more bad guy.”
He looked like he was going to explode, hissing, “I don’t give a shit about him. We got Kylie, and we need to move. Get clear from here.”
She said, “We won’t be clear with this man running around. We weren’t clear before, when Kurt died. It’s why we’re here now.”
Veep bent down, took the pistol from the dead man’s hand, and
shoved it into his waistband, saying, “Are you sure you’re thirteen?”
Hearing the Russian above them, searching the berm, she said, “These guys won’t stop. I’ve seen it before. You’ve seen it before. They’ll just keep coming, unless we end this.”
Veep started to respond and she held up a finger, listening. She said, “He’s on top of the hill, by the radar tower.”
Veep raised his rifle and said, “I’ll meet him there.”
She said, “No, no. We need to trap him. Ambush him. Up top is open ground. A killing field. He’ll shoot you before you can find him. Go through the tunnel. On the far side is an empty room. I’ll bring him.”
Veep said, “Amena, that is insane,” and turned to climb the berm. She grabbed his arm and said, “Don’t go up there. You don’t know this place like I do, and the way to win is inside, not up top.”
He paused and she begged him, “Please. You go up top and he’ll kill you, and then he’ll kill me.”
She glanced at the radar tower, hearing the man stomp around. She pleaded, “Please. Get in the tunnel.”
Veep paused for a second, then said, “I can’t. If you get hurt . . .”
She pushed his back toward the dark entrance, saying, “I know, I know. You won’t be able to live with yourself. Trust me. Just do it.”
He jogged into the tunnel. She waited a beat, then made a noise with her foot. The target didn’t bite. She tried again, and heard him shout something in Russian, trying to find his friend, then began to shuffle away from her.
Not good. She searched the ground around her and found an aluminum soda can. She kicked it into the brick, the noise rattling into the night.
That did it.
She heard the footsteps running, saw the man drop from the top of the berm, take one look at the body on the ground, and then draw a bead on her head with a pistol.
She took off running, straight into the tunnel.
He followed, and she heard a crack, then the whine of a ricochet, and realized he was shooting at her. Something she hadn’t considered.
She unconsciously ducked and kept going, hearing two more shots, the bullets snapping right next to her head. She panicked, now no longer thinking about setting him up, but only getting away. She sprinted down the tunnel blindly, the fear giving her a burst of adrenaline, desperately trying to reach the Civil War bunker.
She felt the kiss of the fourth round snap by her earlobe before the sound of the gunshot reached her, and she knew she was dead.
She dodged to the right and passed by the opening to the bunker without even realizing it, then heard another shot explode in the tunnel, but with a different pitch. The man behind her screamed. She whipped her head to the rear and saw Veep standing above her tormentor, his rifle shouldered like an extension of his body. He squeezed twice more, the light on the rail illuminating the damage he inflicted.
She slowed, then ran back to him. He was breathing heavily, the death he’d delivered pressing home.
He saw her and shook his head, saying, “I have no idea why I agreed to watch your ass. You are a piece of work.”
The adrenaline coursing through her, she felt a grin leak out and said, “I’m family. That’s why.”
Chapter 42
I couldn’t believe that Shoshana had refused to kill her target. I thought about putting my own barrel against his head and she read it in me before I could even draw the pistol, saying, “No, Pike. Jennifer is right. This isn’t about him. It’s about you.”
Aggravated, I said, “What the hell are we going to do with him? Let him just run off? We have a hit coming.”
She pulled out a pair of flex-ties from her jacket, bent down to him, and began binding his legs and arms. She said, “I’ll babysit him. You had me out front wasting time anyway. I can do both. I’ll post on the corner. You do the hit and then we’ll exfil.”
I said, “We don’t have time for that shit.”
“Yes, we do. I’m the one bringing the exfil vehicle, and you have to get out both the woman and the child anyway. I’ll pull the car right up to your breach point. It can stop here for five seconds. We’ll turn him over to the police as well.”
I shook my head, looked at Aaron, and said, “You ready?”
He nodded, and we jogged down the alley to an ancient side door. I knelt down, saying, “Light.”
He put a beam on the lock face and I started working my tools, saying, “She’s really pushing the limits of my endurance.”
He chuckled and said, “She thinks she’s protecting you. She has seen the beast inside herself, and she doesn’t wish that on you. Killing that man would be crossing a line. She is done with that.”
I turned around and said, “Are you kidding? She’s crazy as a loon.”
He said, “No more so than you. Trust her.”
I went back at the lock and felt the dead bolt come free. I glanced at him and whispered, “Breach.”
He raised his weapon, and I swung open the door, letting him flow inside. I followed behind him, my own Glock 23 drawn, and we found ourselves in an old sacristy, velour chairs and dark oak all around. Just like the floor plan Creed had sent us. At least something was working out.
We threaded our way through the darkness, entering a hallway and taking a knee. I whispered, “Staircase should be right at the end.”
Aaron nodded, and we slunk forward, each step a deliberate one, heel, toe, heel, toe, making sure we were silent as a shadow.
We reached the end and I saw the faint edge of the stairwell, a light at the top giving us faint illumination. I tapped Aaron, pointed up, and he nodded. I got on the radio and said, “Koko, Koko, we are at LCC,” meaning we were at the last covered and concealed position before we assaulted. “Are you ready?”
She came back immediately, saying, “Roger. What took so long?”
I said, “Later. Carrie, this is Pike. Are we clear?”
Shoshana said, “Yes. Target is secure. No issues.”
I went up the stairs, hearing nothing but the rustle of clothing from Aaron behind me. We reached the top, I peeked around the corner, and saw our door, a single bulb above it illuminating the hallway.
I clicked the radio and said, “Koko, Koko, breach in sight. Stand by.”
“Roger.”
I knew she was now worming forward on the roof and lining up her sights.
I broke out of the stairwell and slunk down the hallway, checking the knob on the door. It was locked.
I drew a hand across my throat and Aaron rotated the pack on his shoulder, pulling out a small explosive charge. I took it, placed it just above the doorknob, where the lock was set, then unspooled the wire from it.
We staged on the left side of the door, away from the blast, and I handed Aaron the initiation device. He nodded, and I called, “Koko, Koko. At breach. I say again at breach.”
She whispered, “Standing by.” Meaning she had the man in her crosshairs. In a mantra I said, “Five . . . four . . . three . . . two . . . one, execute, execute, execute.”
On the first execute, Aaron cracked our charge, the explosion shattering the night, the door splintering inward. I raced forward, my barrel leading the way. I met a man in the foyer, a pistol in his hands and a look of shock on his face. I put a double tap into his forehead and kept going, waiting on the rush of men.
There was none.
Aaron split to the left. I went right, and then saw Jennifer drop onto the balcony, entering the room with her own weapon out.
The rest of the apartment was empty. We cleared it rapidly, until I reached a final door down a hallway. I kicked it in, seeing a woman cowering with a bandage on her hand. She looked up at me, her clothing soiled, her makeup streaked, and said, “Por favor, por favor, no.”
I dropped my weapon, and Jennifer flowed in behind me, wrapping the woman in a blanket from the floor. She looked confused, like maybe it was a trick, her daughter behind her showing hope, but with an edge of disbelief.
I said, “Do
you speak English?”
She nodded, and I said, “We don’t have a lot of time. You’re safe now. Just listen to Jennifer here.”
Jennifer leaned into her ear and whispered something, and the woman nodded her head, going faster and faster at every utterance like she was about to break her own neck. She grabbed her daughter and wrapped her tightly.
I left the room, finding Aaron at the door to the balcony. Outside, on the slab of concrete, I saw the body of the man Jennifer had killed, a single bullet hole right between his eyes.
Aaron said, “Shouldn’t have doubted her.”
I patted his shoulder and said, “Yeah, you and me both. Time to exfil.”
I called Shoshana, saying, “We have jackpot. I say again, jackpot.”
She said, “Moving.”
Jennifer came out of the room with the woman and child. She glanced at the body on the balcony, then her eyes settled on me. I thought I’d see doubt, but I didn’t.
She gave me a ferocious smile and said, “This one was good. Very good.”
She helped them to the door, one arm around the woman, another holding the child.
Chapter 43
Wolffe heard a noise at the back of the house and ceased his interrogation of the Russian. He pointed to Kylie to get behind him. She did so, and he raised his rifle, aiming at the sliding door but keeping his knee on top of his prisoner’s neck.
The curtain fluttered in the breeze, and then Amena appeared. Wolffe exhaled and Kylie rushed to her, crushing her, wrapping her up in her arms. Nicholas Seacrest entered, and Kylie rose, the emotion finally spilling out.
He embraced her, whispering in her ear, but looking at Wolffe.
Wolffe stood, keeping control of the Russian below him, and said, “Where do we stand?”
Seacrest said, “Two dead at the fort. We need to go.”
Although he expected it, Wolffe muttered, “Shit. Not what I wanted to hear.”
