by Dawn Kunda
He told Kat a month, a year, or more could pass before he would contact her. But “don’t worry” followed each of his sentences when he’d sat her down to explain. He explained little, only that he would be fine.
The cab pulled up to the United Airlines departure terminal. Vic headed straight for his rented locker. He kept a supply of necessary traveling and survival items in a seabag.
He found a men’s bathroom. When he came out, he was in worn jeans and a T-shirt. Finding a flight to O’Hare, he had little time to check in his bag and catch the plane. The idea of parting with the seabag left him a little uneasy, yet his gun and other borrowed agency equipment wouldn’t get through inspections. He’d have to trust the airline.
After Chicago, he’d take the next flight to Sweden. It always paid to have allies strewn across the world. His name would change again. His habits didn’t have to alter to much more than his surroundings. Washington, D.C., might be done with the Cairo op and everyone involved, but he would find a way to secure the safety of his agents. Assuming it was possible.
Chapter 37
Cal left his car facing south and ready to go. He ran back to the first angle of the curve in the mountainous road. A thicket tall with fir trees and littered with boulders and bramble supplied a necessary cover while he waited for the van. Calculating a ten-minute head start, he had to move quickly. With the GPS monitor held tight and the newly purchased yet used MAC-10, he climbed the rocks and dove into the brush.
He tested a few angles from the top of the rock with the barrel of his gun pointing at the beginning of the curve of the highway. With a suitable spot located, he crouched with the barrel peaking over the barrier. Checking the low-tech GPS, he saw the van moving.
He kept a hand gripped on the gun while he looked at the GPS and waited to see which way the van turned when it approached the highway.
The van turned right, toward the city, toward him, as a drip of sweat fell from his brow onto the GPS screen. He checked his watch. He had eight or nine minutes, give or take a few depending on their speed.
He ran through his plan. A simple maneuver, yet a mistake in timing would prove hazardous. Without accurate timing the van would reach its destination, arguably the airport or levee, with Mary as a hostage. Worst-case scenario, he could get her killed along with himself.
He pictured the few moments she had let her personality show with a sweet smile. Her warm eyes had turned his core into an inferno of longing. It didn’t matter if she would ever repeat the nearly sensual exchange of their last conquest. He wanted her alive and safe, for better or worse. He’d work on the better part once he got her away from the terrorists.
He checked the hands on his watch again. Four minutes. Forcing himself to concentrate, he watched a car come his way around the curve. The light from the moon and stars outlined the tires. He kept low and aimed the MAC-10 at the wheels. In his mind, he squeezed the trigger.
The car continued around the curve and out of sight. He knew when to shoot. The van would travel the same approximate speed. Nightfall became his friend as he acknowledged the availability of enough light, yet a cover of the dark forest edge for his safety.
With the barrel propped on the rocks again, he readied his trigger finger. Safety disengaged, he watched. He swore he could hear the second hand on his watch tick away the time.
Headlights around the bend preceded the next vehicle coming his way. Cal forgot the heat, humidity, the oncoming coolness, and all other things beside the gun in his hand and his immediate mission. He watched the front tires appear. The van traveled noticeably faster than the practice car.
At an angle, he positioned the barrel of the gun on the front tire and followed it as it came closer.
* * * *
Mary wished for her head to clear. The pain pounded a path from her forehead to the back and down her neck. It was nothing like a headache. That would come after the swelling began. She swore she’d been hit hard enough to cause internal damage, a concussion to some degree.
Focus on something other than pain. An exit route came to mind, yet how could she get out from under the arrest of the chain?
The pain shifted, striking behind her eye. She winced. Think. She had to think. She didn’t have a weapon as her gun had been confiscated and Cal’s remained in her rental. Ranier knew her trick maneuvers she mastered for self-defense. Again, the locked chain eliminated any useful efforts.
The transition point would be her best defense. The best time to cause confusion and the more people around, the better. One thing on her side, the lit-up night sky, would aid her in an escape.
She leaned her neck back as another shot of pain rebounded through her head.
Maybe if she tried to relax for the ride, she’d come up with a magical answer before arriving at whatever destination they had in mind. Both ideas of relaxing and thinking proved difficult as the van hit every bump in the road. The metal sides of the vehicle vibrated against the breezy evening.
Her body shifted as the van rounded a corner. She forced her eyes to remain closed. They felt better when not straining to focus.
A cool feeling crossed her eyes, the first little touch of relief since she’d been abducted. The relief also brought reality back. In no way would she be able to outmaneuver five armed men. She had been so sure Cal would’ve found her before the terrorists took her to another location. Now, any chance of him tracing this van, these men, or her remained as likely as her having a good night’s sleep. A good night’s sleep with Cal backed that thought.
Damn, she needed to quit thinking like that. Her initial seduction surely made him think she had no interest in a relationship. She didn’t really know if she had the ability to consider more than a casual relationship, yet their second coupling left a soft spot in her heart and a tingle between her thighs. But it didn’t matter. In her current situation, she might never have the chance to find out.
Before she could distract her mind any further from the swollen nerve endings in her head, the screaming bang of a high-powered weapon contacted the van. The loud noise crashed between the metal walls along with the sound of a gush of air. The vehicle shifted and raced toward the side of the mountain.
Chapter 38
Two shots accomplished his objective. Cal snuck to the edge of the boulder supplying his protection. He watched the van’s front tire blow, causing the vehicle to swerve toward his side of the road, a good seventy-five feet ahead of him.
Letting his head fall back, he gave a quick thanks to the stars.
Little time could be wasted at this juncture. He tucked the MAC at his side, bent low, and jogged the edge of the tree line toward his target. The van had jumped a mound of rock and clay, landing right-side-up in front of the tree line. He had been successful in shooting out the front tire, which disabled any steering attempts. The vehicle stayed on his side of the highway.
As the side door of the van rolled open, he ducked behind a pine. Two men jumped out and ran to the far side, with the barrels of machine guns protruding from the edge as they turned to face the just-traveled road. Ranier remained inside, but he couldn’t distinguish anything else about the other two.
Cal adjusted his weapon and waited for one more to exit. He wanted as many out as possible before he gave up his location. The night air, cooler without the sun, hung in silence.
A scuffle inside the van echoed against the mountainside. Cal had his finger on the trigger ready for the next to jump from cover. Another gun shaft slid into view from the right side of the open door.
He still couldn’t see Mary. In Arabic, an order came from inside. In a fraction of a second the two on the outside rounded either end of the van and sprayed a round of shot in his direction.
Cal ducked and flattened himself to the ground. Time to act. He returned fire, knocking the one at the back of the van to the ground with a gut shot. Before he swung his MAC to the front of the van, the other member dipped behind the hood.
Firing ceased with a shou
t from the cab. Cal regrouped and crawled to the other side of the tree. One down and four to go. They now knew his position. He’d shoot at anything non-female that moved.
With another shout from the van, the front man came out and let another round fly. Cal muffled a surge of pain as a shot grazed his left bicep.
* * * *
Mary forgot her previous thoughts as fear shook her body. Someone wanted her captors dead. She hoped he or they didn’t represent her original captor because she had little faith in their regard for her survival.
She sent out a quick prayer that, against the odds, Cal had sent the return fire. She ended the prayer with the promise that she’d donate time to the good of all mankind if she survived this assault.
As if the lead man didn’t agree with her unheard promise, he pulled her forward, bending her with her face at her knees. The lock holding her hands to her waist like a vise sprang free. Her wrists pulsed with the release of pressure.
The lead man didn’t allow her any time to rub her swollen wrists. She also wanted to squeeze her head between her hands to equalize the pressure, but his meaty fist grabbed her upper arm. Yanking her from the seat, he shoved her in front of himself as a shield.
He pushed her to the open door, and yelled in English, “Get out. Get out and see what your life is worth.”
The salt from sudden tears stung the scratches and cuts on her face as she stumbled, half bent over, while he forced her to the door. Shoved from the ledge of the van, she fell in a heap into the dust and jagged rocks.
She couldn’t stop the tears, yet she held back any sound that would indicate her pain.
The lead man covered most of his body behind the vehicle wall as he reached for a clump of her hair and pulled her to a kneeling position. Biting her lip, she held back an impromptu scream.
“Stand up,” he yelled as he pulled her hair harder.
If she could only wipe the salt from her face, but he slid behind her as he brought her to her feet. She swore a fire blanketed her cheeks.
Pulling her hair away from the mark on her neck, he leaned his rotten breath against her skin. She felt his lips touch the tattoo with a grunt of morbid pleasure. The move was quick and distasteful. Raising his head, he shouted to the woods, “Do you want to see her live?” With barely a pause for an answer, he continued. “Throw your gun out of the trees and come out, or I will shoot her. She will not die peacefully. It will take many bullets, and then I will come after you. Do you understand?”
There was not a sound from the woods.
“You have ten seconds until I put the first hole into her.”
A wave of nausea rose in Mary’s throat. The less-than-one-percent chance she calculated for a rescue kept her from falling to the ground consumed in her pain. Her sight had blurred with the tears, so she couldn’t make out if anyone came from the woods.
“…three, four, five…”
The count continued. No one emerged. What could she expect in five seconds? A miracle?
She heard the clatter of a gun thrown to the ground. Her blood rushed a path through her extremities during the nine-second count. As if on cue, the exertion fatigued her and let her fall to the ground as the leader’s hand dropped from her arm.
“Come out, away from the gun. Now.” His voice boomed in her ears.
Her head bent toward the ground as she heaved a stomach full of bile and nothing else. She wiped her face with a sleeve covered in dirt. It still felt better than salt-filled scrapes. She cleared her eyes and raised her head. Whoever came out from their cover would indicate what happened next. If the one who shot the van belonged to the faction from her abduction, her life meant close to nothing.
Impatient and angry, the leader kicked her in the side below the ribs and aimed his AK-47 at her foot. “I’ve picked her first limb to shoot off,” he yelled. “Show yourself.”
Mary watched a man clad in dark clothes pull out from behind the tree line. She sucked in her breath and more tears, a mixture of relief and nerves ran down her face. The silhouette matched Cal’s body. There’s no way she wouldn’t recognize him.
He stopped with fifty feet between himself and the van, legs spread in defiance and fists clenched at his sides. “Let her go. I’m worth more than she is.” Cal’s voice verified his identity.
The leader bent back and a laugh full of hatred echoed into the night. “You are both worth nothing at this point. You have no formula for a missile. You deceived Roman Chenzira, and you know his lists of information.” A spray of bullets pounded the dirt in front of Cal’s feet. The leader laughed again.
Cal took three steps forward. Mary scanned her surroundings while the leader watched him. She needed to get away from the leader, maybe find a rock or branch to use as a weapon.
“I know you want us alive. At least one of us.” The confidence in Cal’s voice gave her strength, whether it was real or for show.
A wheeze and a cough of blood came from the man Cal had shot. The passenger door opened and she heard Ranier exit the van. At the same time, the other two captors rounded the ends of the vehicle.
Her relief had a short life as she wondered how Cal could manage the four remaining men. Cal’s weapon lay to his side.
As she realized the fruitlessness of her hope, the man at the front end of the van ran over to her. He heaved her off the ground with his arm around her middle, his gun still aimed on Cal.
“Let her go. Let. Her. Go.” She had never seen Cal so angry, or heard it from his voice with such authority and meaning.
Cal took a step toward the gunmen. He took another step.
“Cal! Cal, don’t do it. Stay away.” Mary cried and screamed and pulled against the strong arm only to make the gunman yank her back.
Cal stopped walking. The gunman yelled, “You are not cooperating.” A string of shot darted the ground at Cal’s feet again. “The next one will be a hit.”
The lead man issued his demand. “Slowly. Walk to us slowly.” Cal hesitated. “Now!”
Mary dropped her head. She didn’t notice or care about the tears now. She hurt. She hurt inside more than anything, knowing this was the end of her and the end of her and Cal as partners. As anything.
The lead man held his gun, pointed at Cal as each step of his represented the coming surrender. Mary wanted to plead with him to not come any closer, to return to the trees, safety, and make an exit without her. Her tears dried and the grievous sounds from her throat silenced. She noticed a dark and wet patch stained on his sleeve. He had been shot.
Cal would not look at her. His eyes focused on the lead man.
Chapter 39
Heightened adrenaline rushed through Cal, nearly popping out of his skin as he stepped toward either his demise or a sanctuary of ending Mary’s abduction. The raw feeling on his arm barely registered. He never removed his stare from the lead man, although he peripherally spotted Ranier.
He and Ranier against the remaining three gunmen would procure an elevated possibility of victory. Ranier must’ve been on the same wavelength because he didn’t give away their CIA relationship with a nod or any other movement to establish a connection.
“Stop.” Cal obeyed the lead man’s order as he stood ten feet away.
“Cal, don’t do—”
“Shut up,” The lead man barked to cut off Mary’s warning. A tightening of the gunman’s arm around her reminded her of the pain in her body.
The lead man walked up to Cal and poked the barrel of his machine gun into Cal’s ribs. “Move ahead of me around the van.”
“Whatever you say,” Cal muttered. He looked up to attempt to catch Agent Ranier’s attention. Ranier matched stares for a moment. He hoped his comrade would fall in line with him at his earliest convenience.
The gunman held Mary and dragged her around the back of the van. Behind him, the lead man directed Cal to follow, edging their route around the now dead man.
With a cough, Cal bent forward. Instead of rising up, he accelerated his movement as
he turned on the lead man. One hand reached for the barrel of the gun as his other elbow slammed into the lead man’s gut.
The gun fired. The edge of a nearby boulder shattered.
Mary screamed.
A loud thud sounded as Cal jammed the butt of the gun into the holder’s ribs. He wrestled the weapon out of the lead man’s grip while he ground his heal into the leader’s ankle and caused him to reach for support from the van.
Everything happened in the time it took Mary’s gunman to become aware of the fight and turn around. Cal thought he heard her yell something about Ranier, but he couldn’t make out the words.
Ranier had to know the game started and he’d be called in for a play at any time, or else Cal’s attempt would result in a futile effort. By this time, Cal had no time to check on Ranier’s involvement but had to fight with everything inside him.
Cal shoved the gun into the lead man’s neck and pushed him against the side of the van. Cal’s voice came out raspy and edged with hatred as he stared into the eyes of his nemesis. “You worthless piece of—”
A round of brass and screams from behind, from Mary, covered his words.
She needs to be okay. She needs to be okay. Cal repeated this in his mind as he ratcheted the gun tighter against the lead man’s neck. With a quick jerk of his arm, Cal swung the barrel into the trapped leader’s face, ripping the skin from his cheek.
Cal pulled back with the gun inches from the bleeding face. He pulled the trigger and the head splattered against the gray paint. The lead man’s body slumped and fell forward as Cal jumped back.
No time for victory as the terrorist holding Mary shoved her to the ground and raced to subdue Cal. The terrorist slammed Cal to the ground, using his gun as a club. “I would kill you, if I had the option,” the terrorist hissed. “Maybe I will.”
