Counter-Strike (A Mitch Kearns Combat Tracker Novel Book 2)

by JT Sawyer

  Chapter 39

  Mitch moved back towards Dev’s location, seeing that she was stable, then patted his fist on Marco’s shoulder, nodding for him to follow him to the jeep. The two men tossed their packs inside and Mitch took the passenger’s seat while he indicated he wanted Marco to drive the open top rig. They backed out of the hangar, squealing the tires while the older man ran at them, waving his fists and yelling. Marco did an abrupt turn and shifted the stick into first gear, speeding off towards the bus.

  “We need to ensure that tour bus has a one-way ticket. Take us out beyond them a few hundred yards then spin this jeep around.” He rummaged through his pack for the grenade he had retrieved from one of the dead mercenaries and placed it on the passenger’s seat alongside his pistol. He checked the magazine and realized he only had two bullets left.

  “Any rounds left in your Glock?” Mitch said.

  “Nah, I’m dry.”

  Marco drove the jeep alongside the bus, while Mitch hunched over, trying to get a glimpse of the faces inside. He could make out a few of the mercenaries who were giving him puzzled looks as they pressed their faces into the dirty windows. Glancing back at him in the sideview mirror of the bus was the large man who had been flogging Von earlier. The man saw him and started to turn the bus into the jeep. Marco swerved and sped up, overtaking the cumbersome vehicle while racing past an abandoned garage. He put it in fifth gear and gained a few hundred yards then turned abruptly, coming to a screeching halt. Mitch stood up, sitting back on the headrest of his seat and aiming his pistol sights on the right front tire of the bus, waiting until the distance closed enough at the fifty yard mark to fire off a single round. The resulting blowout caused the vehicle to careen sideways, crashing into a cluster of fifty-five-gallon barrels beside a small refueling station.

  Mitch slid back into his seat and yelled at Marco to punch the ignition, speeding towards the front of the bus. Yanking the pin from the round grenade, he held onto the windshield frame and stood up, lobbing the grenade under the driver’s side of the bus while Marco immediately arced the steering wheel to the right, frantically shifting the gears and grinding the engine from his efforts as he raced away. The men, their deadly payload of canisters, metal girders, and luggage were all embroiled in flame.

  The shockwave from the explosion shattered the windshield glass in the jeep, sending a spray of shards outward while the jeep fishtailed as Marco tried to prevent it from overturning. Both men lurched forward, turtling up their shoulders. For a second, Mitch thought the jeep was going to get airlifted as the explosion rippled through the air. The sides of his skull were reeling from the blast and his vision blurred for a moment.

  When he had gained enough distance, Marco disengaged the clutch and brought the jeep to a rolling stop. The two men stepped out, flicking the glass splinters from their shirts while looking at the orange mushroom cloud in the distance. The bus was completely enveloped in the conflagration as fuel from the gas pumps roiled like an orange python into the cloudless sky.

  Chapter 40

  Crenna was standing under the cooling fan in the bay of an air-parcel delivery company. It was one he had used in the past for running small arms to rebels in Burma and he had made sure that the area was cleared of personnel for the next hour while he awaited transportation. He was sure Redstrom was going to launch a bio-attack in a heavily populated area like the airport or perhaps at the trade delegation which was unfolding that afternoon. If he could head him off and remove him from the equation, he’d be hailed as a hero and could retire in glory while silencing the one man who could be his undoing.

  Crenna was hunched over his cellphone, glancing with irritation at the voluminous number of messages from Quint. “Fuck her and the feminist face of the CIA. I’ll go over her head on any allegations she tries to stick on me. The Senate Oversight Committee would love to get some dirt of some kind on that bitch and I’m sure she’s got plenty.”

  He heard the steel door to his right open and pulled his eyes up quickly. “This area is under a secure lockdown for now,” he said to the officer in the shadows who was walking towards him.

  Crenna looked down at his phone again, waiting for the call from his driver to come through. “Your services aren’t needed here, Officer. I’m in charge of overseeing this warehouse for Interpol so everything is in good hands.” He removed his fake identification and flippantly held it up to the approaching figure.

  The officer came into the light and flung a bloody knife on the ground near Crenna’s shoes, some wine-colored droplets landing on the polished brown leather near the laces. “Your driver and the two men outside won’t be coming to your rescue, I’m afraid.”

  Crenna slowly depressed the off-switch on the phone and moved his eyes along the knife and across the cracks in the cement until he traced his sight up the creased black pants and buttoned shirt of the man whose face he’d hoped would provide a different match from the dreadful voice he was hearing burst through the cobwebs in his head.

  Kyle Redstrom was standing with his hands on his hips, his gaze penetrating through Crenna’s cranium like a diamond bullet. “You can’t imagine the joy I experienced when I saw you enter this building. I can honestly say that that’s the first time in years that I’ve felt an honest-to-God emotion.” He snapped his fingers and blinked hard. “I mean, a real heart-tugging emotion at seeing an old friend like you.”

  Crenna began brushing his left hand across his jacket to access his pistol but the younger man closed the distance instantly like electricity had surged from under his feet. Kyle struck him in the throat with a spear-hand, causing the windpipe to buckle. Crenna collapsed back on the slate-gray table, gagging for air while Kyle remove the pistol from the older man’s waistline and slammed the butt of it against the delicate bones in the man’s hand. Crenna emitted a wheezy shriek, still trying to breathe in between his agonizing groans.

  Kyle bent down and picked up the soiled knife, dragging the dripping blade across Crenna’s jacket lapel. “You’re really causing me to curtail my plans this week, Darren. You know, after I was going to stroll through the halls of the trade delegation in Jakarta and spread the virus around, I had planned to use the antidote on myself because I wanted to finish out the day by watching your illustrious career go down in flames once this was all traced back to you.”

  Crenna leaned on one elbow, looking up at his tormenter. “You think that the agency is gonna take the word of a double agent who sold secrets to China over what I tell them and what’s already been documented with your case?”

  Kyle slashed him across the left thigh, the layers of muscles underneath unfurling like ribbons. Crenna sank to the floor, filling every inch of the cavernous warehouse with his raspy screams. Kyle bent down and shoved his cupped hand over the man’s mouth. “I had once dreamt of kidnapping you outside your house, when you walk up from that lovely white-and-blue-trim garage to your two-story mansion with the elm trees by the back door. Oh, I was going to bring you to a rented warehouse a lot like this one,” he said, pausing to look up at his surroundings before continuing. “Then, I was going to put you on an IV and keep you alive for weeks while I fileted you. The longest I’d ever observed a person surviving that in the prison you sent me to was eight days but with some quality barbiturates and intermittent medical care, I was hoping that we could sustain you for a month—far more than my wife lasted.”

  He released his hand from Crenna’s mouth as the wounded figure began sobbing. “I didn’t know they were going to take your wife. That was not my doing. You have to believe me. I thought you’d be executed shortly after you were captured.”

  He brushed his hands over Crenna’s wool-like hair. “Oh, you poor thing. You’ve had a guilty conscience for too long. You’ve carried around too much of this burden, haven’t you?” Kyle thrust the blade forward, removing the top half of Crenna’s right ear. “Let me lighten your load some.”

  Kyle shuffled back a few feet as the blood from the wounds kep
t leaking on the floor, creating a small pool under Crenna. He tilted his head at the leg wound. “Shit, I may have nicked the femoral artery on that slice. Not good, Darren. A man in your advanced age bracket is gonna need urgent medical care.”

  He moved forward and raised the blade up, his eyes fixed on the man’s jugular region. “I do have an appointment downtown to keep so it’s time to say our goodbyes, old friend.”

  His downward thrust was diverted by the sting of a bullet round grazing the rear of his shoulder. He dropped the knife on the pavement and spun around, firing his pistol in the direction of the shot. Another round pierced the table near his head. Kyle backpedaled behind some wood boxes as a barrage of gunfire splintered the wood around him. He weaved through the tangle of crates and bolted for the rear exit door, catching a glimpse of Von moving towards Crenna’s nearly lifeless figure slumped on the ground. Kyle kicked open the door and raced into the parking lot, clutching his hand over his bleeding deltoid as he looked for a place to hide. He only had to wait another hour until the virus became active in his bloodstream. He couldn’t risk another battle.

  Chapter 41

  After landing with Mitch and the others, Von had made his way past several derelict warehouses until he saw an identical Huey helicopter near a row of Quonset structures. The passengers had already disembarked but he saw a vehicle slowly pulling away from the helo with a single individual sitting in the back seat. The vehicle sped away then suddenly stopped near an air-parcel delivery building. As Von trotted the half mile to catch up to his quarry, weaving between buildings to cover his passage, he noticed a man wearing a police constable’s uniform emerge and make his way towards the rear door of the building. He surmised it had to be Redstrom, posing as law-enforcement to gain entrance to the upcoming trade delegation. Only why was he stopping at this building? Something of significant value to complete his mission must be inside.

  A few minutes later, after entering the warehouse and driving Redstrom off, he moved to the side of his severely injured boss. While Von began shoving shop towels on the man’s gaping leg wound he thought back to what Redstrom had revealed to him about Crenna’s involvement in Beijing and then about the recent kill squad that had been sent to eliminate everyone at the jungle base.

  Outside the building he thought he heard the clouds groan with thunder but then saw the orange cloud of an explosion fill the blue sky outside the bay windows, the tumult rocking the heavens mirroring his own inner turmoil.

  Crenna’s airway had recovered enough for him to speak clearly though he was still wincing in pain with each word he spoke. “Just in time—good job, Von. That murderous traitor would have done me in in another minute.”

  “Like you did when you sent those mercs in today to obliterate all the evidence, including me?”

  “What the hell did Redstrom fill your head with? You know I’ve always had your back.”

  Von pulled back the drenched towel from the oozing inner thigh. He could see the faint white of the femur and knew the excessive bleeding was probably due to a partial sever to the femoral. Crenna gave him a knowing look and nodded to a red phone on the wall.

  “Call for an ambulance and we can sort this all out later.”

  Von placed the towel back on the leg and moved Crenna’s one good hand over the top of the improvised gauze. He stood up and took a step towards the phone then looked down at his boss. He’d been brought up the ranks by this senior agent but had never felt like he could trust the man. Now, if Crenna lived, Von would either be implicated in the man’s nefarious undertakings or be forced by Quint to testify against him. Either way, Von knew his career would be over. And even if he did survive this and continue on, he saw himself sprawled out on the floor in a similar setting thirty years from now.

  “Go on, boy, make the call. I’m a fuckin’ mess.”

  Von stepped back and stood over Crenna, the blood throbbing out from under the soaked towel. “I used to think that what we did, what I did, mattered, like I was some fucking Boy Scout who could fix the faulty parts of the world.”

  Crenna arched his head up, his face growing pale. “Get me a medic, goddammit!”

  Von squatted, resting his arms on his knees, glancing at the exit door. “I’ve still gotta clean up your mess and take down Redstrom before it’s too late. I’m not going to kill you but I’m not going to save you either.”

  The older man slumped back against the leg of the table, frothy spittle coming out from his lips as he spoke. “You think you’re better than me.” His breathing became shallow and his voice crackled. Von stood and trotted towards the exit, his pistol at a low-ready, never looking back at the wheezing figure.

  “I made you. You were nothing—nothing before you met me.” Crenna’s eyelids fluttered and his chin sank into his chest as he squeaked out his last breath.

  Chapter 42

  Mitch was about to get back in the jeep when he saw a man dressed in a police uniform running in the distance towards a warehouse followed a minute later by Von, who was in an all-out sprint.

  Above the continued din of the explosion, Mitch yelled across the hood to Marco. “Get back to Dev and Bob and the others—get them out of here back to Kuala Lumpur. Dev’s got a jet there and she and the rest of you don’t need to be connected to any of this.”

  “Where the hell are you going?”

  Mitch tucked his pistol in his holster. “One final thing to take care of.” He trotted off in the direction of the two men, wondering how long he had before emergency services and law-enforcement were streaming onto the airfield to battle the fire. Mitch’s head was still throbbing from the blast and each step was like a jackhammer pounding into his skull.

  He’d seen who he thought was Redstrom bolt into a parts warehouse. He heard the sound of gunfire coming from inside, followed by numerous workers flooding out from the exits. As Mitch reached the building, he changed direction and headed for the rear, hoping to gain an element of surprise by coming in from the opposite side to where the two men had entered.

  He crept around the corner, his pistol in hand, and was met by a metal pipe crashing down on his head. Reflexively, he tried to block the fierce blow from Kyle but only managed a partial deflection. The pipe crashed through his defense, making contact with the ulna and then grazing off his forehead. Mitch lost his grip on the pistol and was driven sideways by the force. He blocked the next strike, feeling his injured arm buckling from the pressure. Mitch slammed his right fist into the man’s solar plexus, knocking the wind out of him temporarily but his head was reeling and his vision blurry. Redstrom raised the pipe again and Mitch rushed him in a tackle, slamming him into the cement walls of the building. Mitch heard the pipe clang on the ground and he unleashed a volley of punches to Kyle’s ribs. The man blocked a few and struck Mitch with a vicious uppercut below the belt then grabbed him in a headlock, shoving his upper body down. He should’ve anticipated the move given their positioning but his head was too rattled from the multiple blows coupled with the concussion blast from the explosion. Kyle began clenching down and Mitch felt his windpipe constrict. He knew in another second, he would either be choked into unconsciousness or have his neck snapped. He’d used the move enough himself and now was enraged that he was falling victim to something he could’ve avoided. He heard Redstrom grunting as the man’s forearm grip increased around his throat. The sunlight that had been pounding down on Mitch was now fading from his vision as he struggled to breathe. He felt for the handle of his fixed blade tucked by his left hip. He used a crossdraw and removed it then drove it in an upward thrust between Kyle’s legs into the perineum, burying the hilt and twisting until he felt warm blood rushing over his hands. The chokehold was broken and Mitch shoved the man back. Kyle staggered in place, his legs buckling and his lips quivering. Mitch lunged forward, delivering a rapid series of thrusts into his throat and ribcage. Kyle dropped straight down, seeming to collapse into his boots as if his skeletal system had been suddenly liquefied.


  Mitch was still gagging and rubbing his sore trachea. He backpedaled, trying to gulp in fresh air. He felt the sun beating down on him like a sledgehammer and moved towards the shade near the door. It opened and Von stepped out, holding his bloodied shoulder. He had taken a bullet below the clavicle and was trying not to pass out, his slide-locked pistol dangling from his fingers. Von leaned against the doorframe, relaxing his posture while staring down at Redstrom lying in a pool of blood and viscera.

  Mitch moved up and helped Von to the ground. “Well, aren’t we a pretty sight.”

  Von pressed his hand against his wound, trying to stem the bleeding. “I’m the pretty one—you’re just kind of, well, looking pretty frazzled.”

  Mitch glared at him, his face softening and his breathing turning into a faint chuckle. “I could still take you, kid.”

  Von redirected his grimace into a partial grin. “I don’t doubt it, Mitch, though I have a little more finesse,” he said, waving his hand towards the flaming bus across the airfield, the sound of sirens filling the air as the fire trucks arrived.

  “You government types—never liking the solutions to the problems you created yourselves in the first place.”

  Von stood up, nodding for them to head away from the direction of the emergency responders. “You used to work for the government didn’t you—FBI wasn’t it?”

  “Yeah, ‘used to’ being the key words there.”

  He stood up and lent Von a shoulder to lean on as they both moved slowly along the back side of the building.

  “Speaking of the government, you got any suggestions for getting out of this country back to Kuala Lumpur? This place is going to be bottled up pretty tight after this.”