Acton shook his head, struggling to control his own anguish. “If we give you the code, we all die.” He pointed at the crime being committed in the next room. “If he dies, then you’ll never get it.”
“Then you’ll die as well.”
“Like I said, that’s happening regardless.”
The man sneered at him. “Professor, there’s dying, then there’s dying. A bullet to the head is blissfully painless. What your friend is going through is horribly agonizing.” He stared at Acton for a moment, as if assessing him. “You’re a fit man. I think it would take days before you’d die.” He stepped over to Laura, a leer spreading. “And she could take months.”
Acton stepped between them, glaring at the man. “Lay a finger on her, you die.”
The man laughed, stepping back. He motioned to one of the others, laughing with him. “Go ahead. Test him.”
The man smiled then stepped forward, extending a single finger in front of him.
He touched Laura’s breast, a huge grin on his face.
Acton’s hand darted out, crushing the man’s windpipe with a single blow. He collapsed backward, clutching his throat, gasping for breath as the room erupted in anger. Guns were immediately trained on them, the men surging forward, but their leader waved them off.
He pointed at the gasping man. “What did you do?”
“He’ll live. The next one won’t. Stop beating our friend, and let’s settle this. You can have the ring, you just need to let us go.”
The man smiled slightly, eying him. “And how can we possibly trust you now?”
“You can’t, just like we can’t trust you. But there’s a difference between you and us.”
The man’s eyebrows rose slightly. “Oh? And what’s that?”
“We’re not murderers. You have nothing to fear from us. We can’t touch you. But we have everything to fear from you, which means we won’t renege on our deal. Let us go, and once we’re safe, we’ll give you the code.”
The man stepped closer, staring into Acton’s eyes. “I think you are operating under the false impression that you are far braver than you actually are.” He stepped over to Laura, running his hand through her loose hair. “When you watch what we do to your wife, day in and day out, I think you’ll be begging to give me the code.”
Acton struggled against the bile filling his mouth, his stomach churning and his heart hammering at the prospect of everything going south. He drew a slow breath. “Perhaps, but I think you’re just a pawn here, like me. I think you’re working for someone else who wants the ring, and if you put it at risk, you’ll be the one that will face his wrath, not us.”
The man stared at him for a moment, removing his hand from Laura’s hair before stepping back. He appeared slightly rattled, but Acton couldn’t be sure.
Then he snorted and spun on his heel, barking orders in Arabic. Two men rushed forward and grabbed Laura, hauling her kicking and screaming into the second bedroom of the luxury suite.
“Laura!”
Acton rushed after her, his worst nightmares about to come true as his bluff was called. Two of the henchmen immediately grabbed him. He stomped on the foot of one, the recipient’s grip loosening, and he wrenched free then drove the other man’s nose into his brain with the heel of his palm. He spun, kneeing the other man in the face as he hunched over, grabbing for his aching foot.
Acton turned to resume his path to the room where Laura continued to scream, when a hand swung toward him, the grip of a pistol clutched in it. He ducked, but too late, the blow excruciating, and enough to take him to the floor, those that remained swarming him, their blows raining down on him as Laura cried out in the next room.
He had been a fool.
He had been overconfident.
And now his arrogance would cost the woman he loved everything, but not before he’d be forced to watch.
He had lost.
He stared up at the man in charge as blood trickled down his face, and played the only card he had left. “Fine, I’ll tell you what you want to know.”
The man sneered at him. “I thought you might.”
52 |
Burj Khalifa, Room 141B Dubai, United Arab Emirates
“So far so good.”
Atlas stepped out of the bathroom as the team cleared the room, nodding at Niner. “Yeah, but getting in is always the easy part.”
Dawson had to agree. Gaining access to their room had been easy, and judging from the duffel bags piled on the bed, it had been fully prepped by the CIA contacts here in Dubai. He activated his comm. “Control, Zero-One, do you have eyes on the target yet?”
“Zero-One, Control. Micro-drones are coming into position now. We’ll have eyes and ears—oh, God. Stand by, Zero-One.”
Dawson could hear the horror in Leroux’s voice. Though the guy was young, he was skilled, and Dawson had worked with him on multiple occasions.
And he couldn’t recall him losing his cool like he just did.
He pointed at the bed with the equipment. “Something’s wrong. Let’s gear up.”
Atlas, Niner, and Spock went to work, emptying the bags, a quick inventory completed.
Niner gave a thumbs up. “Everything we asked for is here.”
Spock shook his head. “You have to love the fact we have enough arms to start a war in pretty much every country in the world, conveniently stored in those countries.”
Niner chuckled. “God bless America!”
Atlas picked up an MP5. “Amen.”
Dawson pointed at the large window providing a magnificent view of the city below, the sun long set, the bright lights of the metropolis twinkling from this height. “Prep Plan B. I have a feeling—”
“Zero-One, Control. You have to move now. Karlsson is being beaten and appears near death, Acton has a gun to his head and is bleeding, and Palmer is in another room, and it looks like they’re about to…”
Dawson didn’t need to hear the rest of it. “Understood. Bravo Team proceeding in sixty seconds.”
Niner and Spock made quick work of prepping Plan B as Dawson and Atlas geared up.
“Rules of Engagement?” asked Atlas.
Dawson growled. “Take the bastards out. Rape is an automatic death sentence.”
Atlas smiled. “With pleasure.”
“Done!” announced Niner. Dawson didn’t bother inspecting the job. He trusted Niner and Spock’s skills as he trusted his own. He headed out the door and toward the stairwell, the others on his heels. They were committed now, their gear in plain sight. He only hoped Langley was able to provide them with some cover by manipulating the security cameras.
But hotel guests were another thing.
They made it to the stairwell, rushing up the steps to the next floor, then paused at the door.
“You’re clear on target floor. Cameras overridden.”
Dawson shoved open the door and sprinted toward the target room. Atlas readied the entry ram as Dawson reached the door. He pointed and Atlas didn’t miss a beat, swinging the thirty-pound device away from the door, then slamming it into the lock, splintering it open.
Dawson kicked it open the rest of the way with his foot as Atlas stepped back, tossing the ram aside as the team surged inside.
Both of Laura’s hands were gripped tightly, her arms stretched across the bed in preparation for being tied down, spread-eagled, so these bastards could take their turns.
But her legs were still free.
She snapped out her right foot, catching one of her accosters in the side of the head, and he stumbled backward as two more advanced, their eyes eager with the anticipation of what was about to happen.
Not if I can help it!
She pulled both knees up then let a double-footed kick out, catching another in the chest. He fell backward, his head slamming into a mirror, the glass shattering as another loud bang in the main living area of the suite brought everything to a halt.
And as her would-be rapists paused, she took advantage.
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She swiveled her hips, her right leg swinging toward the man holding her left hand, his head turned toward the shouts in the next room. She nailed him in the face. His grip broke and she rolled in the opposite direction, preparing to do the same, when the barrel of a gun greeted her instead.
Acton, defeated, sat on his knees, praying for the assault on his wife to stop, his captor making no effort to halt any of the horrors happening in the suite despite his capitulation. Instead, the man just continued to smile at him while he made a call, probably to inform his puppet master of his success.
Then the door to the suite flew open, four men with guns drawn surging inside.
Four men that were the most beautiful sight he could imagine right now.
Dawson led the way, his weapon belching lead, everything he aimed at dropping. His trained eye swept the room, ignoring Acton, then he broke off with Niner, heading for Laura’s room as Spock and Atlas rushed into Karlsson’s. Gunfire erupted from both rooms, the suppressors taking the edge off the shots, all the shots, indicating their captors never stood a chance.
A round of “clears” sounded from both rooms, and Acton struggled to his feet as Dawson reappeared, holding Laura. She pushed from their friend’s arms and rushed into his, uncharacteristically sobbing. He held her tight, saying nothing as she let the emotions pour out as they should.
For there was nothing he could say beyond platitudes.
From the struggle in the next room, he was fairly certain nothing had had a chance to transpire beyond the terror of what was to come.
Their Delta friends had arrived just in time.
Suddenly she stopped, pushing back slightly, tilting her head up, concerned with his still bleeding head wound. “Are you okay?”
He chuckled. “I think that’s supposed to be my line.”
She sighed, patting his chest. “I’m fine. My foot’s a little sore from where I hoofed one of the bastards, but I’ll live.”
He gave her a quick squeezing hug. “That’s my girl.” He tore off his pin then hers, handing them to Dawson. “They’re listening in on these, maybe watching us.”
Dawson pulled a small case out of his pocket and placed them inside. He snapped it shut. “That’ll block any signals. Langley can analyze them later.” He motioned to Niner. “Check the Doc’s noggin.”
Niner quickly grabbed a med kit from a bag near the door that they had dropped on their way in. He sat Acton in a chair then wiped the blood away, examining the wound. “It’s deep, but you’ll live.” He squeezed an expanding foam wound sealer into it, temporarily halting the bleeding. “We’ll look at this when we’re safely out of this shithole.”
Acton looked at the opulence surrounding them.
Niner frowned. “Okay, maybe not shithole.” He turned to Laura. “Did they, umm…”
She shook her head. “No, you guys got here just in time.”
His shoulders slumped as a heavy sigh escaped. “Thank God.” He flashed a smile. “Due to the circumstances, I won’t hit on you.” He winked. “At least not until I patch the Doc up a little better.”
Laura gave him a quick hug. “Don’t ever change, Niner.”
Atlas appeared from Karlsson’s room. “He’s in really bad shape. I don’t know how we’re getting him out of here through the main lobby.”
Acton’s jaw slackened as he realized they weren’t safe yet, and this was just the beginning of their rescue. He stared at the phone on the floor and cursed. “I think we might be getting company.”
Dawson spun toward him. “Why?”
Acton pointed at the phone.
Dawson cursed. “Was he on a call?”
“Yes. And I heard someone shouting after you shot him.”
Dawson activated his comm. “Control, Zero-One, what’s our status?”
He cursed again.
53 |
Operations Center 2, CIA Headquarters Langley, Virginia
Leroux shook his head as his team kept firing updates at him, the map lighting up with additional icons representing local law enforcement converging on the Burj Khalifa.
But that wasn’t what concerned him.
It was the hotel security heading for Bravo Team’s position.
“Bravo-One, Control. You’ve got locals en route, ETA less than five minutes. You’ve got hotel security on its way to your floor now. Less than one minute before they arrive, over.”
“Armed?”
Leroux peered at the display showing men in a combination of uniforms and business suits, too many preparing weapons. “Affirmative.”
“Can you delay them?”
Leroux snapped his fingers at Child who threw up his hands. “I can’t stop their specific elevator!”
“Then stop them all!”
“But how will our guys get out?”
“Just do it!”
Child hammered some keys and the security cameras quickly revealed the results as buttons were jabbed by those now trapped inside the high-speed elevators.
Leroux smiled. “Good work. How long will that hold them?”
“Maybe two minutes.”
Leroux activated the comm. “You’ve got two minutes, Zero-One.”
“We’ll take them. I’ve got a phone you need to trace.”
“Now, or can it wait until you’re clear?”
“Can’t wait.”
Leroux pointed at Tong. “Get on it.”
Tong took over the conversation, the subject phone dialing into a secure local number in Dubai that she was tapped into. “I’ve got what I need, Zero-One.” She worked her magic and cursed as she looked up at the main display. “A call was just placed to a phone in the city.” She pointed. “Blue icon, heading for their location now.”
Leroux frowned. “Cameras?”
Child brought up the traffic camera feeds, a convoy of half a dozen SUVs racing into view then just as quickly out of it. “That can’t be good.”
Leroux agreed. “No, it can’t.” He activated his comm. “Zero-One, Control. You’re about to have more company.”
54 |
Burj Khalifa, 142nd Floor Dubai, United Arab Emirates
Dawson led the way toward the stairwell with Spock, Niner covering their six with Acton as Laura provided additional cover for Atlas, cradling Karlsson in his massive arms. Acton and Laura were two of the few civilians he would trust with his life, the two of them not only well-trained by her ex-SAS head of security, but proven in battle, neither hesitating to put their training to effective use.
And she’s one hell of a driver.
He never hesitated to take advantage of their abilities in situations like these, whereas most civilians he’d never dream of giving a weapon to—the risk of getting one of their own asses capped by a panicked misfire was too great.
But Acton was ex-National Guard, and the two of them had been under more fire than any civilians he knew, and always managed to survive either by dumb luck or mad skills.
He wagered it was a bit of both.
An elevator chimed behind them and Dawson cursed. “Let’s go!” he hissed, urging them toward the door. Spock reached it first and held it open. Laura rushed through, Atlas on her heels, but it was too late.
Shouts erupted and four security guards rushed their position, weapons rising.
“Suppression fire!” ordered Dawson.
Niner spun and opened up on the ceiling above the new arrivals who immediately hit the deck, clearly unaccustomed to actual gunfire. He backed toward the door, Acton’s hand on his shoulder guiding him to safety, as Niner fired several supplementary bursts to keep the innocent heads down.
Dawson shoved the door shut behind them, then pulled a small metal wedge from his pocket, jamming it into the doorframe before following the rest of his team down the steps to the floor below. “Niner, execute Plan B.”
Niner grinned, holding up a detonator. “With pleasure.”
He flipped the cover clear then pressed the switch. A deafening rumble filled the stai
rwell, and within moments, alarms blared as the power flickered then failed. Spock pushed open the door to their floor, dust and smoke rolling past him. They pressed forward, the screams and cries of confusion from the guests migrating from their rooms and into the hallway as the evacuation began.
Dawson kicked their door out of the way, already off its hinges, ushering the rest in before pressing the door back into place. He surveyed the damage. “Do you think you overdid it a bit?”
Niner shrugged as he and Atlas pulled on the rope they had attached to the window earlier with breaching tape, preventing it from falling onto the unsuspecting pedestrians over a thousand feet below. “Hey, those were blast reinforced window frames. You wouldn’t want me having to try blowing it a second time while we’re on the run, would you?”
Atlas grinned. “Go big or go home.”
Dawson shook his head, but had to acknowledge the man was right. “Everyone out of the monkey suits.” He stripped out of his business suit, revealing jet black fatigues underneath as the others did the same. He turned to Acton. “Have you ever done any skydiving?”
Acton nodded. “Yeah, we both have.” His eyes bulged. “Are you kidding me?”
Dawson grinned. “I never kid when I’m talking about jumping out of a perfectly good hotel.”
Spock emerged from the bathroom where the CIA had stowed specific gear in the event Plan B was enacted, dropping seven parachutes on the floor. He pointed at Karlsson, lying on what remained of a couch. “He can’t jump by himself. Not in his condition.”
Dawson agreed. “Tandem.”
Spock held up the harness. “Way ahead of you.” He quickly went to work hooking Karlsson up as everyone else donned their chutes.
Dawson inspected Acton’s then Laura’s. “You two ready for this?”
They both nodded, Acton replying. “As ready as anyone could be for something as insane as this.”
Dawson chuckled. “You’ll do fine. Spock will go first with the professor. Atlas will go next, providing cover, then you two. Follow them. Don’t worry about what’s happening on the ground—”
The Viking Deception Page 16
