Something spiraled past his head.
Sparks flew off the rock edifice. Scott blinked at the machete that had narrowly missed his temple. He kept moving and retrieved the weapon, then bolted toward the gate.
They both dove into the mine’s wire cage. Ojore slammed the gate shut and punched the button as Scott faced out, one fist tight around the handle of the machete, the other curled into a ball. All his training, all the years of combat…gave him the courage to face the battle.
But not Dembe.
He blinked at the intrusion of that thought. The shouts trailing them and the slow ascent of the elevator guaranteed they’d have trouble topside.
Braced for fighting, Scott pressed his spine against the wire side and waited.
As the cage rose and the opening slid into view, Scott grew uneasy at the empty tunnel. He frowned, probing the dimly lit corridor with his determination to seek out trouble before it found them.
“Where are they?” Ojore read Scott’s mind.
As quietly as possible, he eased the cage back, his gaze never leaving their path to freedom. Adrenaline drenched his muscles. God, go before us and prepare the way…
Scott stepped out with one foot. He eased the boot down and shifted, cocking his head to one side, then another. It made no sense, but the tunnel was empty.
He motioned to Ojore to exit. They walked close to the wall, covering their six so no one could jump them. At the L-shaped intersection, Scott held up a hand to Ojore. He eased the tip of the machete into the light and into the open, watching the dulled tip for indication of movement.
Nothing.
Holding the machete with both hands, he stepped around the corner. Eerily quiet. And again, empty. He frowned. A flicker to the side spun him in that direction.
The man behind the counter ducked, shaking his head. He didn’t want trouble. Wouldn’t stop them. Scott reached for Ojore and grabbed empty air. Where…where had he gone? Scott spotted Ojore’s shrinking form racing toward the mouth of the tunnel. Toward freedom.
Just like I did. When nobody had bothered to help him find a way out of an abusive father’s hold, he’d found his own.
Scott realigned his thinking. Shoved aside the specter of the past trying to overtake him. What was wrong with him? He hadn’t thought about his brother in years. Why now?
And the mine…the breath of hell itself seemed to breathe down their necks. Something was wrong. Very wrong. The thought haunted Scott all the way back to their village and into the night. It’d been too easy to escape. Easy meant someone was cheating. And it wasn’t them.
That night in his hut, unease knotted his gut as questions pummeled him. Who was that American? What was he doing in Uganda? No, worse—how had he hidden the yellowcake mining? Did the Ugandan government know about that? What about the UN and United States?
Over the years, as Scott had embraced his fledgling faith and entered Uganda not as a soldier but as a missionary—unofficially—he’d felt the hand of Providence on him. Protecting him. Guiding him. And right now he knew he needed to make contact with someone who could get this information into the right hands. But…who?
The who didn’t matter if he couldn’t get to a sat phone. Scott dropped back against the mattress and groaned. That meant going to the peacekeepers. Which meant he’d have to see Dembe.
He’d rather step on an IED.
CHAPTER 9
West Bank
He’d kill her. They’d come all the way into enemy territory only to find out it was a trap. Or a ruse. Either way, it didn’t get Nightshade back.
Clang. Thud.
Griffin shifted toward the noise just as Wonder Woman darted toward a bay. Behind a metal gurney, she crouched. Checking their six, he made sure they weren’t going to get ambushed. Then he turned and hunched closer.
Light flashed through his NVGs. He grunted and jerked away, flipping up the lenses. When he looked back, he found her digging her fingers into the wall.
“Help me. He’s in here.”
Heart in his throat, Griffin leaped into action. At her side, he coiled his fingers around the grate. “Aladdin. That you?”
“Yeah…”
The faint answer was enough to reignite Griffin’s hope. With a hard yank, he freed the grate and tossed it aside. “Watch our backs,” he said to Kacie. He used the SureFire and gauged Aladdin’s position. “You stuck?”
“No.” The man’s blue-green eyes peeked at him, then cringed at the light and jerked away. “Just…” A hand extended. “Help me.”
Clapping the guy’s wrist, Griffin wrapped his hand around his forearm. Banging ensued as Aladdin freed himself from the vent. Tugging him to his feet, Griffin noticed he was light—featherweight. “Got your land legs?”
He traced the beam over the assassin. Bone thin, face gaunt, Aladdin nodded—reached for the gurney behind him as he swayed.
“Did they put you in that vent?”
Aladdin shook his head.
“What were you doing in there then?”
Another small smile. “A lot of people want me dead. When I heard the commotion and flash-bang, I didn’t know who was coming. A nurse who was soft on me helped me in there, then she escaped.” His gaze drifted to Kacie, and he studied her for a long while. Something shifted in his expression.
Noises drew them out of the reprieve. “We’d better move,” Griffin said.
“That way.” Aladdin drew himself straight.
“He’s right,” Kacie said. “It’s a back route that should be less populated.” She looked at Griffin as she nodded at Aladdin. “Help him. He’s emaciated and dehydrated.”
“You think I don’t know that?”
“I’m fine.” Aladdin stiffened. He took a step, and his leg gave out.
Hooking an arm around him, Griffin’s awareness of how bad Aladdin’s situation was hit him full force. “You know—“
“This changes nothing.” Aladdin swallowed, sweat dotting his upper lip and brow.
“You’re learning, assassin.” Griffin took a few steps, heading toward the exit. Ahead, Kacie opened the door. She checked the passage, then gave them the all-clear. He aided Aladdin into the tight corridor. Two-deep, their shoulders nearly scraped the cement walls as they shuffled on. Aladdin’s right side dipped and his foot dragged.
He jerked himself upward and shook his head. Coughed.
Though Griffin wanted to ask how he was doing, he wouldn’t put him on the spot. Wouldn’t embarrass him in front of the girl. Heck, even he was embarrassed at the way she moved through the tunnels while they both labored to keep going.
“Where is everyone?” Scritch. Scritch. Scrrrritch. Aladdin stumbled. Caught himself. Straightened and continued.
“Same mess like you.” Griffin frowned at the sloppy gait—the man had been the epitome of stealth in their earlier days, so whatever was wrong, whatever happened to him here, he would need some serious medical treatment. Griffin trained his gaze and attention on the door at the end of the hall. Though roughly twenty feet, it felt like half a mile.
Aladdin grunted. “I’m sor—“
“Quiet.” The guy didn’t need to expend energy talking when walking seemed to take every ounce of effort. He’d offer to do a fireman carry and get them out in double-time, but the humiliation would do the guy in. Still—it was humiliation or dead.
Kacie stood at the end, watching. She looked at the door, then back to them, clearly torn.
“Find a vehicle,” Griffin hissed as they made the halfway point.
Eyes wide, she nodded. Then disappeared out the door.
Shouts spiraled from their six.
Aladdin’s grip tensed.
“Just keep moving,” Griffin mumbled, his focused trained solely on making it to the door.
“Stop.”
“No time.”
“Stop,” Aladdin growled. When Griffin hesitated, Aladdin shifted around behind him, used a strap to tie his hand into Griffin’s vest, then hooked an arm around h
is chest. “Go.”
Surprised at the man’s quick thinking, Griffin shifted his M4 into both hands. He pivoted with the assassin strapped to his back and trained his weapon on the opening they’d just come through. A few feet farther and two men manifested in the hole.
Griffin eased back on the trigger. Once. Twice.
One guard dropped. The other jerked out of sight.
Griffin bent forward, arching his spine and lifting the assassin off his feet. Hurriedly, he back-stepped toward the exit, toward the route Kacie had disappeared through. His heart hiccupped at the thought of sending her off to find a vehicle. What would keep her from running and saving her own hide, leaving them to get killed?
Why’d he trust a spy? She clearly had no compunction against breaking someone out of a maximum security prison. She didn’t even know—or care!—whether he was guilty. What kind of person doesn’t care?
Aladdin drew in a sharp breath. Slapped a hand on Griffin’s vest and yanked hard. The move spun him around. As his body pivoted, Griffin saw the muzzle of a weapon poke toward him.
It was too late. He knew as soon as he lifted the weapon that he’d never get a round off before the gunman.
Crack!
The man stumbled forward.
Griffin stilled, his mind ablaze. Then he saw the red splotch spreading over the uniform as the guard slumped to the floor at his feet.
Blond hair flashed into view. “Move. Now. We have a truckload of trouble coming our way.”
Half dragging Aladdin to safety was slowing them down to the point of detriment. With a roll of his shoulder, Griffin reached back and hooked a hand under Aladdin’s thigh. He hoisted him onto his shoulders. Let the guy hate him for embarrassing him.
Hustling sideways was the only way to avoid banging Aladdin’s skull against the walls, but they made quicker time. When they broke out into an alley, he stopped short. Darkness enveloped them. Where was the car? He looked around, his vision adjusting to the lack of light.
Kacie stood to the side, holding something.
No. Not something. A piece of junk motorbike.
“Are you crazy? Three people won’t fit on that.”
“I know.”
Griffin scowled. So, she was going to abandon them?
“Take the road out of town. Two klicks east there’s a house, half blown. Meet there.”
“Where are you going?”
She flashed her eyes at him, the light from the side of the building catching the whites. “Get him on there and move!”
Griffin clamped his jaw tight as he shuffled to the bike, then eased Aladdin to the ground.
“I’ll kill you for that,” the assassin hissed.
“It was my pleasure.” Griffin bobbed his head. “Get on.” He held the bars as Aladdin drew a leg up over the back. Then Griffin straddled it. He glanced around.
A Muslim woman flitted past them, long fabric billowing like phantoms of the night. Blue material wrapped her head.
Griffin ducked.
“One hour,” said the Muslim—no, it was Kacie.
How—how had she done that?
“Wait.” Griffin grabbed for her. “No! I’m not leaving you.”
She scurried into the darkness, the shadows eating her form and blending her into its darkness. Everything in him ordered him to stay, protect her, not leave her side till they were all safely out of the city.
“She’ll be okay,” Aladdin said. “She’s made for this stuff.”
Surprised at the man’s words, Griffin probed the shadows, the alleys, the buildings for a sign of her. But she was gone. He cranked the engine on the bike, skimmed the shadows once more, then raced into the night.
“I’m not leaving you.” Sweet sentiment.
A lie told by every man she’d met.
Yeah, should’ve known this guy wouldn’t be any different. Regardless, it was the best choice they had. She couldn’t find anything but the bike for transportation, and Aladdin had to be transported to safety.
Phase one—complete. Now to give Lambert an update.
Kazi slunk through the dark alleys. As she hustled, she kept her head down but her gaze out. A woman out after curfew meant death, no matter who she was or why she was out. Which was why Kazi had to hurry, get to Tariq’s before being spotted or before the swarm of police descended on the facility where she’d just freed a man wanted in a dozen countries.
Lights, people, and cars grew in number as she neared the hub of the city. That was good. She could hide better. Yasir had the great fortune of being held captive in a city familiar to her. She’d been able to work her channels and dig him out of the muck.
But that was also part of the problem—here people knew her. Knew her face. Could recognize her and remember her comings and goings. So, getting back to her objectives could put those very same people in grave danger.
She crossed the street and entered the hotel.
Tariq looked up from behind the counter, and his eyes widened. “Noor!”
“Salam, Tariq.” She inclined her head in respect.
“It’s been awhile.” He reached under the counter and retrieved a key. “Eshtaqto elaiki.”
“And I have missed being missed.” She clutched the key, thanked him, and hurried for the stairs.
“We are having falafel in the morning. Don’t be late for breakfast.” He winked and went back to his computer.
Kazi took the steps two at a time, her heart racing. Tariq’s reference to the falafel warned her that someone was looking for her. Already? How did they know? There was no way…. In the room, she locked the door and bolted it. Then she hurried to the far corner where a desk hugged the wall. With great care and quiet, she moved it aside. On her knees, she used her mostly broken fingernails to dig in between the plaster and the molding. She pressed harder and finally—click! She pried the wood back. It opened like a stiff drawer. There she retrieved a wad of paper and three passbooks.
Kazi stuffed the panel back, returned the desk to its place, then lifted the chair and carried it to the other side of the corner. On it, she reached up and loosened an air vent. She tiptoed up and stretched, her fingers coiling around nylon straps. With a tug, she freed a bag. It flopped into her arms.
In minutes, Kazi had changed into jeans and a black T-shirt. She strapped the HK USP Compact around her waist, then donned the jacket. She lifted the brick-of-a-phone and dialed.
“Tell me you have good news.”
“I do not.” Kazi ignored the hiss on the other end of the line. “I have Aladdin. He is not good.”
“Just get him back here.”
“That will be impossible. He is more dead than alive.”
“Then I guess you do not want your money.”
She ended the call, a winter storm moving over her heart. She’d been played and manipulated all her life. If men wanted something, they bought it. Roman wanted the farm. He bought it. With her soul.
She swung around and dropped hard on the bed, the springs creaking. How did one get a half-dead assassin, wanted by just about every EU and Middle Eastern country, out of one hostile country into another?
Shouts preceded feet pounding the stairs.
Kazi punched to her feet. Nothing was ever easy, but just once, she’d like a break. And not in her back. Pack slung over her shoulder, she hoisted up the window and climbed out. Clinging to the ledge, she toed the window closed and then inched along the facade and around the corner. To her left, she spied a truck. And grinned. It belonged to the police—but unmarked—and they’d left the door open and the engine running. It can’t be that easy, can it?
She hurried along, fingers digging into the cement, which tore at her flesh, then eyed the spot and stepped off. As she did, light ripped through the alley. Kazi landed in a crouch. Shoved herself into the shadows.
Three men burst out a side door to Tariq’s.
Gauging whether they spotted her and their distance from her, Kazi knew she had little time. And less luck. Even if
she could get into the truck, which she needed to get Legend and Aladdin out of here, she could never escape without being shot at or killed.
But they hadn’t seen her yet. That was her advantage. All she had to do was sneak into the truck and voilà!
Of course, she knew better than to believe it’d be that easy. She’d lived too long and seen too much. Nothing ever went as planned. Which is why she had to be quick on her feet in more ways than one.
Nimble and low, she scuttled around the vehicle.
Crunch. Crunch.
Kacie dropped and rolled under the vehicle. With the engine running, the heat radiating from it felt like a warm sauna. As she waited, the darkness from the hotel vanished.
Feet crunched. The two men conversed.
Oh no.
They’d given up. Decided she wasn’t there.
She watched, her stomach in her throat, as both men came to the vehicle and climbed in. Thunk. Thunk. The underbelly of the SUV dropped closer. The engine revved.
CHAPTER 10
Abandoned House, Outskirts of West Bank
Unnerved didn’t come close to what churned through Griffin’s chest. Alone with a former assassin who looked to be Death’s best friend right now and dependent on a covert operative with serious issues—what was he thinking?
And taking shelter in a home that only had two of four walls intact and no electricity…? The dwelling must’ve been hit during a raid or something, because the furniture lay scattered across what was probably once the living room. In the back, he spied a wall with a torn curtain. A bedroom?
Aladdin tensed and gritted through a grunt as he pitched forward.
Griffin hooked an arm around the man’s waist and led him over the open area to the curtained doorway. “Almost there.”
Firethorn (Discarded Heroes) Page 10
