Hardy spotted Rudin; he was hurrying toward a delivery van, a cell phone in his hand. He’s going to detonate the bomb. Before the door had closed, Hardy saw the guards were closing the distance. He searched the area and spotted a rectangular trashcan. He dragged the trashcan over to the door and wedged the top part under the doorknob. Lifting his leg, he drove his foot down onto the bottom of the can. Seconds later, the guards slammed into the door, but the trashcan did not move. That should hold them.
Hardy focused his attention on Rudin, whose fingers were tapping on the cell phone’s screen. Hardy raised his pistol and put the front sight on the cell phone. He took a breath, let out some of the air and held the rest. He slowly pressed the trigger, until the pistol recoiled. He missed the cell phone. The bullet skipped off the delivery van. Sparks shot off the van’s side panel.
The report of the gunshot surprised Rudin. The phone slipped out of his hands. Squatting, he drew a weapon of his own and fired at Hardy.
Hardy dove behind a metal dumpster; bullets ricocheted off its side. Instead of peeking out from the same side of the dumpster, Hardy moved to the other side and peered around the edge. He saw Rudin snatch the phone and climb into the van. From Hardy’s angle, he could see all of the van’s tires, except for the right-front tire. He steadied his pistol against the solid steel wall to his left and fired three shots, while the van sped away. Each bullet struck a tire, releasing the air it contained with a ‘boom.’
The van swerved left and right, accelerating toward the main gate. Rudin had both hands on the wheel, trying to keep the vehicle moving straight. He glanced at the passenger’s seat, and the cell phone on it. All Rudin had to do was push the ‘send’ button to complete his mission; however, self-preservation was at the forefront of his mind. The van veered left and Rudin yanked the steering wheel hard to the right. The two tires on the right side lifted off the ground. The hulking vehicle hung in the air for a few seconds before slamming back down.
Rudin navigated his approach to the main gate. Two security guards were holding up their hands, wanting him to stop. When it became evident the van was not going to stop, they drew their pistols and began firing at the van’s windshield. At the last second, they dove out of the vehicle’s path, one to the left and one to the right.
Rudin raised his right hand in front of his face as if his hand was going to stop the bullets coming through the windshield. He pushed his foot—and the accelerator—to the floor. The van lunged forward and rammed into the vertical bars of the gate. The speed and weight of the vehicle was too much. The doors swung open, the right one coming off its hinges and landing on the front lawn, several meters away.
Hand over hand, Rudin cranked the steering wheel to the right. The van lurched in the same direction. Its speed and top-heavy weight were too much to overcome. The van heaved to the left, appearing to be suspended. Rudin wrenched the steering wheel back to the left. For a split-second, it seemed as if the van was going to right itself; however, it keeled over, the box banging against the pavement. The vehicle slid forward several lengths, the metal box scraping across the concrete, creating a trail of sparks. Rudin opened his eyes and the first thing he saw was the cell phone.
Chasing the van, Hardy came up from behind the security guards. They saw the pistol in his hands and shouted at him, pointing their pistols at his head. He dropped his weapon and raised his hands into the air. One guard broke away and approached the van, while the other moved toward Hardy. The guard was issuing commands, while taking turns pointing the muzzle of his weapon at Hardy’s chest and the driveway. Hardy had taken many men captive during his time in the military and he knew what the guard wanted.
Hardy dropped to his knees, before going prone on the hard surface of the driveway. He waited to feel the cold steel of the handcuffs around his wrists. I wonder if they use zip ties, too. A loud explosion came from over his shoulder. His hand shot to protect his head. Cranking his head toward the blast, he saw smoke rising from the palace. Two boots appeared in his line of sight followed by a hand. Hardy tilted his head back. “Victor?”