by Gar Wilson
"Excuse me, but can somebody translate?" Encizo requested. "Does this guy know something?"
"Quite a bit," Katz answered. "We've got our main targets. We'd better put Le Larunbat under wraps and get to work."
Phoenix Force had taken their Basque prisoner to the printing house of l'Osservatore Romano. They had correctly guessed that the newspaper shop would not be occupied by the terrorists. Encizo had picked the lock, and the team had moved into their temporary command post.
McCarter, James and Trent had guarded the windows and doors while the other three had questioned the prisoner in the main printing room. Now Encizo used riot cuffs to bind Le Larunbat's wrists together at the small of his back. He gagged the Basque and led him to the open door of a broom closet.
"We'll let you out after we finish our mission," the Cuban assured him. "You'd better hope we don't all get killed."
He locked the door and put the key in his pocket. Encizo turned to Katz and Manning. "So where do we hit these bastards?"
A shadow moved across the glass panes of a window above the primary printing presses. Glass and framework shattered as the dark shape burst through the window. The figure dropped behind the presses as automatic fire erupted from the window. Phoenix Force dropped to the floor and took cover behind the presses and desks.
The door smashed open, and two Iranian terrorists charged across the threshold. A tall bearded figure, probably a Basque, remained in the doorway holding a Largo submachine gun in his fists. The man who had crashed through the window knelt by the press with a Beretta M-12 held in combat readiness. His face was all but concealed by a gray hood and scarf mask.
"Shit," Calvin James rasped. "We're surrounded, and we've got a ninja in here with us."
The black commando was sprawled behind a desk. Bullets splintered the thick oak furniture and chipped plaster from the wall above. James pointed the barrel of his M-16 around the corner of the desk and fired a three-round burst at the gunmen in the window. What glass remained was blasted away by the 5.56 mm hail.
One of the Iranians who had entered the building fired his M-3 greasegun in James's direction. The .45 caliber subgun had never had a great reputation for accuracy, and the Iranian was not very experienced with the weapon and its fierce recoil. He fired most of his shots into the ceiling because he was unable to prevent the sudden climb of the M-3.
The other Iranian leaned around a pillar and aimed a Kalashnikov toward the desk. He only exposed his head and shoulders, but that was enough for Garry Manning. The Canadian had jumped behind a small printer for cover without attracting the attention of the enemy. He snap-aimed his FAL rifle and blasted three full-auto rounds into the Iranian's face. The terrorist dropped his AK-47 and fell lifeless to the floor. He died too quickly to even utter a scream.
The Basque terrorist at the doorway fired his Largo. Nine-millimeter bullets sprayed the room. Several pelted the printer, but none struck Manning. The Canadian laid low and gritted his teeth. He was unable to strike back for the moment. The enemy ninja rose up to aim his Beretta blaster at Manning, but McCarter fired a quick volley of Ingram rounds at the Japanese killer. Parabellums sparked against metal near the ninja. The masked assassin hastily ducked before any of the Briton's 9 mm slugs got lucky.
Yakov Katzenelenbogen was stationed on the opposite side of the same press the ninja was using for cover. The Phoenix Force commander fired a quick volley of Uzi destruction at the Basque gunman. Two rounds pierced the terrorist's chest and sent him tumbling out of the doorway. The Iranian triggerman swung his Skorpion machine pistol toward Katz's position.
Rafael Encizo, positioned behind the end of a case of shelves containing paper and printing ink, saw the fanatic and quickly hosed him down with the H&K chopper. Four 9 mm messengers hammered through the Iranian's sternum and rib cage. The bullets wrecked several vital organs, including the guy's heart and both lungs. The force of the multiple gunshots hurled him into a wall. He slid to the floor and sank into death.
The automatic fire from the window increased in an effort to keep the Phoenix Force unit pinned down long enough for the terrorists' reinforcements to arrive. James and Manning returned fire. Bullets chewed at the ragged window frame and burned air above the heads of the terrorists as they ducked to avoid receiving high-velocity lobotomies.
David McCarter took advantage of the lull in enemy fire. He took an M-26 grenade from his belt, pulled the pin and popped the spoon. The Briton waited two seconds and then hurled the grenade through the window. The M-26 exploded outside. The building trembled from the blast. The grenade also had a negative effect on the terrorists.
John Trent fired his Remington shotgun at the enemy ninja. Buckshot blasted the wall behind the press. Trent had not expected to hit the Japanese killer, but he had hoped to get a reaction from the ninja. Trent had little combat experience, but he knew ninjutsu. If he could force the enemy into action, he might be able to turn the tables.
However, Trent did not see any movement at the press. Suddenly another Iranian terrorist darted through the doorway. Trent immediately swung his shotgun toward the new threat and squeezed the trigger. A twelve-gauge burst of Number Four pellets slammed into the Iranian and pounded his torso into tenderized meat. His body was thrown back through the doorway and into two more terrorists who were about to charge into the room.
"More company outside!" Encizo shouted to his teammates.
The terrorists were fanatics, and most were unfamiliar with combat, but it would not take long for them to realize that the easiest and safest way to deal with their opponents was to simply blow up the printing shop or lob in grenades. If the Phoenix Force commandos did not act quickly, the newspaper building would be their tomb.
Calvin James and David McCarter both acted on the same bright idea. The men pulled pins from grenades and threw the miniblasters through the windows at the enemy lurking outside. Explosions roared in response.
Katz took an SAS flash-bang grenade from his belt and pulled the pin as he prepared to throw the concussion blaster through the open doorway. Without warning, a powerful grip seized the Israeli's left arm and pulled it onto the frame of the press. The grenade fell from his hand and rolled into the middle of the room.
McCarter quickly broke cover and dashed toward the grenade. He kicked the SAS blaster and sent it flying through the open doorway. The Briton dropped to the floor and covered his head. A split second later, the concussion grenade exploded. The screams of agony coming from the outside proved that his effort had not been in vain.
Katzenelenbogen was engaged in his own personal struggle for survival. The enemy ninja had seized the Israeli from behind. He slashed a tanto knife at Katz's throat, but the Phoenix Force commander raised his prosthesis to protect his neck. The knife blade struck the steel hooks instead of flesh.
Katz rammed an elbow back at his opponent. The blow struck the ninja's masked face. Katz whirled to face his attacker. The ninja held the knife in his right hand and the Beretta chatterbox in his left. Katz's boot lashed out and kicked the machine pistol from his opponent's hand.
The ninja feinted a stab at Katz's face. The Israeli weaved away from the knife blade, but he realized the move was an attempt to set him up for the next stroke. Japanese knife fighters and fencers favor cuts over thrusts. The ninja raised the tanto and slashed at Katz's neck. The Israeli war-horse dodged the cut and swiftly chopped the side of his hand across his opponent's wrist. The knife fell from the killer's hand.
The ninja lashed a foot-sword kick at Katz's abdomen. The Phoenix commander doubled up with a groan as his opponent drew a manrikigusari from his gi. The Japanese assassin held the chain by its weighted ends and swung it in a loop at Katz's head. He obviously planned to use the weapon as a garrote to throttle the Israeli.
Katz raised his right arm. The prosthesis blocked the chain. The ninja pulled the ends of the manrikigusari and wrapped the chain around Katz's artificial limb. He hooked an elbow stroke at the Israeli's temple, but Katz had
already drawn his SIG Sauer P-226 from shoulder leather and jammed the muzzle into the ninja's solar plexus. Katz triggered the pistol as the elbow slammed into the side of his head. White pain filled the Israeli's skull as the roar of the pistol resounded in the room.
The chain dragged Katz with it as it was pulled forward and down. The dazed Israeli fired another 9 mm slug before he landed on the ninja's chest. Almond-shaped eyes stared up at him. The orbs were glazed and lifeless. Katz's prosthesis was still trapped in the chain. The ninja held the ends of the manrikigusari in a frozen death grip.
"Yakov," Encizo called as he hurried to Katz. "Are you okay?"
"I could use an aspirin," the Israeli replied, untangling the chain from his right arm. "I'm lucky he didn't just shoot me in the back of the head. Guess he thought he could take me quietly with a knife."
"You've got a nasty bruise, Yakov," James remarked. "Lucky the temple is surrounded by lots of solid bone. Better let me see to it."
"It'll have to wait," Katz replied, returning his P-226 to the shoulder holster under his right arm. "We've got to get out of here before the terrorists hit this place with a full force and blow it all to hell."
The Israeli gathered up his Uzi. McCarter removed a spent magazine from his Ingram and fed a fresh thirty-two-round mag into the well. Encizo glanced at the closet door. He did not see any bullet holes. The Cuban wondered if Le Larunbat had been killed or injured during the battle. Poor bastard might have had a heart attack, locked in a tiny dark room with his hands bound behind his back while forced to listen to the roar of guns and explosions all around him. Encizo was tempted to check on the Basque prisoner, but there was no time to spare.
Phoenix Force headed for the door. The ground beyond the printing house was littered with dead terrorists. Their bodies had been torn to pieces by the grenades the commandos had lobbed at the unseen attackers. The scene was grisly.
"Jesus," James muttered. "I pity the poor dudes who have to clean this mess up/'
"If we don't get out of here, we'll be part of it," Encizo added grimly as he adjusted the shoulder strap of his MP-5.
14
"Those infidel butchers are still alive!" Mohammed Radmeni declared as he slammed the receiver of the field telephone into its cradle. "This time they hit the newspaper printing house! They managed to get from the northwest wall to the southeast corner without any of our people spotting them!"
"And that means they're not far from our position," Ali Hussan Kamal remarked as he studied a large colored map of the Vatican. "We've got about thirty followers stationed at the headquarters of the Vatican Security Services in that area. Order them to find these invaders and destroy them."
"They already tried that," Radmeni hissed through clenched teeth. "That's who the infidels just had a fight with. As far as Kollassi can tell, the swine slaughtered the lot of them."
"We'll reinforce our defenses then and double our efforts to find the enemy..." the Syrian began.
"No!" Radmeni declared. "We use the earthquake! These infidel scum knew what the consequences would be if they dared to attack us. I say it is time for us to strike back, swiftly and without mercy!"
"And commit mass suicide in the process?" Kamal scoffed. "The earthquake device is the last resort, Mohammed. We have not reached so desperate a state. True, we... I underestimated the threat of the enemy. They're far more dangerous than I thought. But let's not panic. This is a test, sent to us by Allah..."
"You only speak of Allah to try to gain my cooperation," Radmeni snapped. "You are an atheist, no better than those Russian Communists who supplied us with most of our weapons. They don't care about our cause, only that we conduct our revolution against the Western nations. You don't care either. Your only interest is in making a profit from this affair."
"Perhaps that was how I felt when we first began this mission, Mohammed," Kamal replied, trying to sound humble and repentant. "But I'm beginning to wonder if you and the others aren't right. The goal of the Jihad is to serve the god of our fathers. Our people have survived because of our faith. I'm not callous enough to dismiss that, Mohammed."
The Syrian shook his head sadly. "But I'm not going to allow you to ruin an opportunity to claim a great fortune that can be used to finance the holy war. The money will enable Iranian soldiers to continue the war against Iraq, and it will finance Syrian attacks against the Jews in Israel. We can feed our hungry children and educate the illiterate so they may read the Koran and come to know the words of the great prophet for which you were named."
"Your tongue is like a sleeping serpent," Radmeni told him. "I trust it only when it remains still."
"Trust me a little while longer, my brother," Kamal urged. "I have a plan that will certainly neutralize the band of hired killers who have disrupted our plans of glory. Hear me out before you judge me."
"I'm listening," the Iranian replied simply.
"The infidels are trying to weaken us from within by sending this squad of murderers," Kamal began. "Let's show them that we too can use the tactics of terror. Contact the Italians and the Americans. Contact the damned pope. Tell them we demand that they call off their butchers or the hostages will pay with their blood."
"Your plan may be worth listening to," Radmeni said with a smile. "Tell me more."
"We'll take ten hostages," Kamal continued. "We'll march them to the courtyard of the library and shoot them unless the invaders surrender within the next half hour. If they fail to do so, ten more hostages will be executed. And ten more and ten more until the assassins surrender."
"What if they don't?" Radmeni demanded.
"Then we'll keep killing hostages until none are left," the Syrian answered. "And then we'll create the earthquake so more of the infidels may die with us."
"It's a good plan," Radmeni decided. "It puts the responsibility of the lives of the hostages in the hands of our enemies. If they fail to act, the death of the prisoners will be their fault, not ours. There is justice and honor in your plan, my friend."
"I'm glad you approve," Kamal said as he bowed slightly. "Shall I select our first group for execution?"
"No," Radmeni replied with a cruel smile. His fingers stroked the haft of one of the knives sheathed on his belt. "I'll do that personally."
Terrorists swarmed over the southeast wing, searching for the mysterious commando team that had struck at the l'Osservatore Romano printing house. Iranian and Basque troops probed the Palazzo del Belvedere and the workshops where the restoration of tapestries was done. They searched the streets and spaces between buildings, but they failed to find the men of Phoenix Force.
The terrorists were unaware that their quarry had already moved to a new position and that the commandos now watched them from behind the great Doric pillars of the Bernini colonnade in St. Peter's Square. The bodies of two terrorist sentries lay in the shadows. Their throats had been slit from ear to ear.
"We'd better split up," Katz whispered. "We've got three main targets and not much time to neutralize them. Gary, you're our explosives expert. I'll need you to help me take out the earthquake device."
"You got me," Manning assured him.
"Rafael, you're our best man for breaking into any building," the Israeli continued. "Calvin, you're the unit medic. You two concentrate on the hostages. It's likely that some of them will need medical assistance. How are your supplies, Calvin?"
"I've got a full kit," James replied. "If it isn't enough, I'll have to improvise. Working conditions can't be any worse than they were in Nam."
"So John and I go after the terrorist headquarters?" McCarter asked with a wolfish grin.
"I thought you'd like that," Katz told him. "But don't get carried away. You'll be badly outnumbered."
"That's all right," the Briton said with a shrug. "That makes it a fair fight."
"Keep in mind that the terrorists are fanatics," the Phoenix Force commander said. "If the leaders think they're cornered, they might radio their people to kill the hostages or det
onate the earthquake device. Give us time to get to those objectives so we can defuse a tragedy before it can happen."
"All right," McCarter sighed. "How if John and I cause a little trouble for the enemy and give you chaps a little elbow room? We'll draw their attention while you move out. How's that sound?"
"Could we talk about that plan?" John Trent inquired, a trace of apprehension in his voice.
"Come on, mate," the Briton urged. "It'll be fun."
"Sure," Trent muttered. "Okay. Let's do it."
"Hey, David," James told McCarter. "Try not to get John killed. After all, he'd probably like to return to San Francisco in one piece instead of inside a pine box."
"I knew the job was dangerous when I took it," Trent said dryly. "Don't worry about me, Calvin."
"All right," Katz announced. "Let's do it. After we take out the earthquake threat and free the hostages, everybody head for the Borgia section to help David and John. Try not to shoot each other."
Katzenelenbogen and Gary Manning moved along the colonnade, heading toward St. Peter's Basilica. The others faced an immediately greater threat because their objectives were closer to the enemy patrols that were still stalking Phoenix force. This did not seem to bother David McCarter. The Briton hummed softly as he attached a foot-long sound suppressor to the threaded barrel of his Ingram M-10 machine pistol.
"John and I will see if we can't keep these blokes busy for a while," McCarter declared. "You fellows will know what to do then."
"Yeah," Encizo assured him. "Good luck."
McCarter and Trent moved along the Bernini colonnade as far as the section known as the Patrimony of the Holy Father. Trent unslung the black bag from his shoulder as he gazed up a stone wall that extended between the Patrimony and another building. McCarter quickly consulted a small Vatican map with the assistance of his infrared goggles.
