Deadline

by L. T. Ryan

  “What?” She searched the ceiling for an answer. “I never took part in any—”

  “Shut up! I don’t want to hear your lies.”

  “Please, just let me go.”

  I knelt down in front of her and jammed the pistol against her forehead. She reached up and grabbed the barrel. Fear sapped her strength. I heard her skin singe on the scorching barrel. She gritted her teeth.

  “I only wanted to stop them,” she said.

  “And you were willing to kill my child to do so.”

  I fired the final round into her head before she had a chance to respond. She jerked back and then slid to the right, leaving behind a trail of blood on the wall.

  CHAPTER 66

  “Watch the door.”

  Katrine Ahlberg repeated the phrase three times in rapid succession. Bear had no doubt the urgency in her voice was tied to the gunshot he’d heard moments prior.

  The sun hovered to his left and reflected off the floor to ceiling windows that lined the front of the restaurant and allowed passersby to get a look at the day’s offerings. The glare prevented Bear from seeing inside the building. Who was the shooter? Had they been detained? Why hadn’t Frank come on the radio?

  In the final seconds Awad shouted something, but the feed in Bear’s earpiece was too corrupted for him to make out the words. Perhaps they weren’t even in any of the languages he knew.

  The door cracked open a couple inches. Bear leaned forward and pressed his face to the scope. The magnified view of the entryway revealed a pistol’s barrel poking out. Through the reflection of the street in the glass he made out the shape of a man just inside.

  “Take the shot!”

  Katrine’s outburst caused Bear to flinch. It sounded like she stood over him with a bull horn. He shook off the distraction and sighted the door again. It had closed and the person behind it had disappeared.

  “What are you waiting for?”

  Bear did not respond. The woman could pound sand. He’d complete the job they had told him to do only once he had a visual of the target. The last thing he wanted was to kill an innocent person who had the misfortune of eating a late breakfast at the restaurant.

  The door flung open as though the person inside had kicked it. Two pistols emerged, one with a suppressor fixed to the barrel, the other without. The man’s right arm swung to the side, covering the street. His left remained straight out. A swift movement reversed the order.

  Then the guy stepped out from the shadows.

  “Shoot him now.”

  Jack Noble stood some forty feet across and fifty feet below Bear. Whatever had happened in that restaurant — and Bear assumed it was much more than the single shot he had heard given the suppressed sidearm — had taken place at Jack’s hand. Given that the only person on the line was Katrine, Bear realized that Jack might have already handled everyone else, including his primary target, Birgit.

  “What are you waiting for?”

  He grew tired of the woman’s Saudi-influenced Swedish accent. Shoot Jack? She could go to hell.

  Jack stepped away from the door. It fell shut behind him. He noticed a woman’s face press up against it before retreating back into the dining room. Her eyes were wide and she watched as Jack walked into the middle of the road, pistols extended and ready as they had both been trained years ago.

  That told Bear that not everyone was dead. If it were police Jack were concerned about, he would have escaped through the rear of the building and disappeared through the network of alleys and apartments and offices.

  No, the man was looking for someone and practically begging for them to come to him.

  “Look across the way to your left.” Katrine paused a beat. “On the rooftop.”

  Bear pulled his head back and pivoted the rifle and stopped at the sight of the woman. Leaning forward, he corrected his aim until he had her in his sight. Except what looked like a single woman was actually two, with one pressed close behind the other, slightly off center by four to six inches.

  Sasha stared in his direction. It felt as though they made eye contact through the scope. Behind her stood Katrine. The Swedish woman held a gun to Sasha’s head. Though Katrine was taller by at least three inches, they now appeared to be the same height.

  “If you don’t shoot him in the next seven seconds then I’ll kill her.”

  The sights centered on Sasha’s chest. Bear held them there momentarily as Katrine started her countdown, then he swung the rifle toward the street.

  “Six.”

  He located Jack. He’d managed a good ten yards since Bear last spotted him.

  “Five.” Her counting was deliberate and slow. At least three seconds had passed since the previous number. Or Bear had reached the point where he was dialed in and the world around him operated in slow motion.

  Bear jerked the weapon forward and locked in on Noble’s back.

  “Four.”

  Could he do this? Could he kill the man he’d identified as his best friend since the age of eighteen? The guy he’d bonded and bled with? They’d done unspeakable things, but also great things in their time together. Could he end it all now?

  “Three. I’d encourage you to get this over with now!”

  Christ, the pounding flooded his head. Not now. Anytime but now. Why couldn’t it just be him down on the street? Let Jack be the one to take him out instead of this cursed softball living and breathing inside his cranium.

  “Two.”

  To hell with her.

  Bear pulled his face back an inch and swung the rifle toward the rooftop. He leaned in and lined up a shot. He could only see a small portion of Katrine, and if he managed to hit her with a clean shot it would not do the kind of damage he wanted.

  “One. Time is almost up. Do it now.”

  She hadn’t seen him adjust the rifle because she had focused her attention on Jack. It was a good thing she only held a pistol, otherwise she might have taken Noble out.

  Bear took a breath and held it. In the second that followed he didn’t blink, his heart beat one and a half times, he cursed Jack for showing up at his door, and he prayed forgiveness from Sasha for what he was about to do.

  “Last warning, Logan. Or else your woman dies here and—”

  Bear squeezed the trigger. The round left the weapon traveling at over twenty-five hundred feet per second, making its journey near instantaneous. By the time he locked in on the target again, the bullet had hit Sasha on her left side above her chest and under her shoulder, placed precisely in the only spot that would not result in her immediate death. Sasha’s eyes widened and her chin dipped to her chest as she glanced down at the hole in her body. The gun barrel pressed to her head slipped off and aimed skyward and discharged a round that would sometime soon land near them. The hand around Sasha’s arm fell to the side. Sasha dropped to her knees, her stare now fixed on Bear.

  Katrine remained on her feet. Bear smiled briefly. His plan had worked. A red stain formed near the Scandinavian Princess’s ice-cold heart. He adjusted the rifle a fraction of an inch and squeezed the trigger again. The bullet entered the front of Katrine’s head and tore off the back of it. She dropped where she stood.

  Bear pushed the rifle aside and pressed up against the knee wall.

  “Sasha.” His shout echoed around the buildings for a moment. He yelled her name again.

  A slender arm stuck into the air and she raised her thumb.

  Bear sighed a breath of relief, then grabbed the rifle and put into action his escape plan, only now it included retrieving the woman he loved.

  CHAPTER 67

  The shots from above didn’t give me a single moment of pause. If they were destined for me, so be it. At this moment my world could be crashing down. I wouldn’t speak with Javier until this was over, and probably even a while after that. Every second that passed provided the opportunity for Thomas to miss a call to his partner, who was watching my brother and his family, my father, and my daughter. If anything happened to
them, all I would have left to live for was death. My own, and several others.

  And the man who was first on the list stood a block away, defiant in the middle of the road. His hands were loose at his side. He had a sad sort of smile plastered on his nodding head.

  He met me halfway. Looked me up and down, taking note of the blood-soaked clothing. “Put the guns away, Jack.”

  I didn’t.

  He glanced down at the Berettas I had aimed at the ground. “You got her, right?”

  “Birgit is dead.” I paused a beat. “So is the man working for her. And so is your buddy Awad.”

  He licked his lips and raised his left hand, extending it out to the side a foot. The ploy was meant to prevent me from seeing him sneaking his right arm towards his sidearm.

  “Thank God. That son of a bitch was—”

  I fired an unsuppressed round into his foot.

  Frank toppled over onto his side. He brought his knee up and wrapped his hand around his wounded extremity. “Goddamn you son of a bitch.” He fumbled around his waist and pulled his Sig.

  I shot him again in the right forearm. The sound of the weapon firing echoed off the street and buildings. He dropped the weapon behind his head. He rolled on his side and reached for it with his left hand. I dashed forward, kicked the pistol away. It skated along the asphalt and ricocheted off the curb.

  Frank continued onto his stomach and crawled a few feet before getting to his knee. Blood pooled around his foot. His right arm hung limp. He held out his left hand once again, this time imploring me to stop.

  “I get the point, Jack.”

  “Do you?”

  “Yes!” He dropped his head back and blinked at the sky a few times. His chin dropped to his chest. Frank looked up at me. “You’re pissed. And, hell, if I was in your position, I’d be pissed, too.”

  “Glad to hear it.”

  I lifted both pistols and aimed them at his face.

  “Christ, Jack. Hear me out, would you?”

  “There’s nothing you can say, Frank. I haven’t quite figured out who’s in bed with who here, and honestly, I don’t fucking care. But they had to get Mia’s position from someone, and the only person I know who can get that information is you.”

  “I didn’t, Jack. I didn’t tell them.”

  I took a step forward. Worst case if he lashed out at me was I’d shoot a round into the asphalt. I could live with that. At that moment I wanted to smell the fear emanating off his body in the moments before I took his life.

  Frank sank back on his heels. He lowered his left arm and pretended to use it to support him. I had no doubt he was going for a knife hidden under his pants leg. “We both know you won’t do this, Jack.”

  “You think you know what I’m thinking?” I squeezed the trigger and a bullet dug into his left shoulder.

  The small knife clanked as it fell to the street.

  “You couldn’t pull the trigger last time.”

  “I think I’ve already shot you three times.”

  “Yet I’m still alive.” Frank forced himself upright. Even managed to bring his bloodied foot forward and rose. Blood dripped off his fingertips and puddled on the street. It looked almost black. “I know you want to kill me. Believe me, Jack. I’ve been there before. In this business, no one’s your friend. Can’t trust a damn soul. I know I don’t. Except for you, Jack. And I trust you’ll do the right thing here and hand over your weapon.”

  I had to give it to him for standing through his speech and managing to hold one hand out. I looked up at the sky. Thought I saw an arm hanging over the ledge of a building. I shook the image free and brought my gaze back to Frank. I reached my arm out. He grabbed hold of the barrel. I shoved my hand forward and fired a round into his stomach.

  Frank’s eyes widened. He stumbled back and dropped to his knees again.

  I walked forward and placed the pistol a foot from his head.

  “Hear me now, Frank. The only reason you survived last time we were in this position was because my little girl was looking on from the car. I couldn’t allow her to see that. Couldn’t have her know that I’m a killer.” I leaned forward, looked him in the eye. “But that’s what I am.”

  I pulled the trigger as though it had violated me personally. At point blank range, I wouldn’t miss, so it didn’t matter. Frank’s body jerked and then fell backward. His lifeless eyes stared up at the passing clouds.

  “No!”

  I spun in the direction of the booming voice, ready to shoot. Bear raced toward me. He held a sniper rifle close to his chest with one hand. The other he extended and aimed his large finger down the street. I turned in that direction and was prepared to face an army of Frank’s SOG operators.

  Instead I saw three Chinese women, an old bald man, and two local teenagers standing not too far off. They all had one thing in common.

  The cell phones they aimed in my direction.

  I’d been filmed killing one of the CIA’s top men.

  CHAPTER 68

  Javier answered his cell phone without saying a word. He didn’t want to wake his sleeping granddaughter. It amazed him how she looked so much like her mother as a young child.

  “We got him,” the man said.

  Javier placed the sleeping girl on the couch and walked into the kitchen. He leaned against the counter as he stared out the back window. “Dead?”

  “Alive.”

  “Perfect.” He thought about the ways they could torture the man. The intelligence they could glean from him. “And the family, they are OK?”

  “Yes. Everyone is safe if not a little spooked by the takedown.”

  “I want you to stay behind and personally keep an eye on them. My associate said he is going to be sending a communication that we must deliver to them, so it is important they do not leave your sight.”

  “Understood.”

  Javier hung up and placed his cell phone on the counter. As he watched the little girl sleeping and thought of his daughter, now all grown up, he wished he could get ahold of Jack Noble to let him know that the man’s child was safe.

  CHAPTER 69

  The first time Brandon opened his eyes, he was greeted by a woman he wanted to call Bruhilda. Fortunately for him, he didn’t. She smiled briefly and said, “You’re going to be OK.”

  He passed out immediately after.

  The next time he opened his eyes he saw two faces staring back at him. The only thing they shared in common was that in the past few years he hadn’t seen either in person.

  “Good to see you up, young man,” the CIA’s director of operations said. He glanced at the woman seated next to the bed, then back at Brandon and gave him a wink. “I think I’ll come back and check on you a little later.”

  Brandon tried to lick his lips but his mouth was parched. The woman held a cup of ice to his lips and tilted it a notch too far. Round ice cubes pelted his face. She laughed. He smiled. Their gazes were locked on one another.

  “I’m glad you’re OK.” She inched her wheelchair forward until it pressed into the bed. Her hand fit perfectly in his.

  “Kimberlee.” His voice sounded like he had gravel in his throat.

  “This isn’t the way I envisioned our first face-to-face going.” She grabbed the bed’s remote and checked out the controls. “I think we can work with this, though.”

  Brandon forced a smile as he traced the long line of staples in his chest. “I think we’re gonna have to wait a little bit.”

  Kimberlee squeezed his hand. “I’ve got all the time in the world. I’m not leaving your side again.”

  CHAPTER 70

  The man arrived at the small house at a quarter past noon. Right on time. He stepped out, came to the door and dropped an envelope on the ground. He retreated back to the car and drove off. I climbed down from the attic and read the note. He would be back in thirty minutes after he had ensured he was not being followed.

  A week had passed since the day I killed Frank, Awad, Birgit Ahlberg, and the
others. I’d learned that Bear had taken out Katrine, too, using an intriguing shooting technique. Guess we could put the ten-year-old hit to rest.

  As I had stared at the crowd of people filming me on the streets outside Tours, the voice inside my head screamed ‘run.’ So I did.

  When I looked back at Bear, he gave me a simple gesture that told me he’d find a way to get in touch. All I needed was a phone. He would take care of the rest.

  A couple days had passed before I heard from him. During that time the footage had been all over the news and in the papers. I faced the stark realization that I might never be a free man again, whether bound by chains or the inability to move freely.

  I heard the vehicle approaching and saw the twin spires of dust kicking up as the guy returned. I glanced at the clock. Thirty minutes exactly. He looped around the front of the house and parked close to the door. The windows were coated in dust and I couldn’t tell if it was him or not, but I jumped in the passenger seat anyway. He nodded once, reached across my lap and opened the glove box. Then we sped away.

  Inside the compartment I found a Glock 19 and a concealment holster, a Garmin watch that was equipped with GPS and an altimeter and barometer, a passport, cash and credit cards, and a numbered account.

  “We’re not going to see him?” I asked the guy.

  “That’s for just in case,” he replied.

  I held out hope that nothing would happen during the trip to Bear’s location. With my luck, it was hard to imagine that it would work out OK.

  Two hours later we were close to the French-Swiss border. The mountains rose out of the earth like giants and dominated the skyline. We rolled down the windows and sucked in the crisp air.

  A short distance further we turned off on a dirt path and pushed forward until the road was out of sight. We came to a fork, veered right and went on until we reached the small square house. It was white with blue shutters. The guy parked in front and exited the vehicle. I followed his lead, tucking the holstered pistol behind my back as I stepped outside.