Levi and Wes left the hotel to go home. They arranged to return in the morning to prepare for the next stage of the operation. Taylor didn't offer to fill them in on the details, for the simple reason he hadn't a clue how they were going to handle the mission to bring down MMP. A lot depended on what Levi found hidden amongst Hussein's data, and there was the question of what moves the developers decided to make when they realized the extent of their data loss. Taylor hated being on the defensive again, but right now, he didn't have too many choices. After they left, he turned to Kate.
"Any observations? I feel I've let them down. They needed to go off with something more positive than ‘I'll let you know’.”
“You haven't let anyone down, Jack. You have problems of your own, and yet you’re trying to help these people to deal with the biggest threat they've ever faced in their lives. How’s the pain, by the way?"
"I’m okay. Thanks for that shot earlier."
"Yeah, I could get ten years doing that. I'll talk to Doc Hermann tomorrow. There has to be another way. I doubt he realizes how serious it’s become. It isn't until you spend a lot of time with someone, intimate time," she smiled shyly, "that the extent of it becomes clear."
"I’ll manage," he shrugged gruffly.
"Cut the fucking macho crap! You can't manage, and you know it. You're a fine man Jack, and as far as I'm concerned, the issue with your legs is pure bullshit. It's sorted. All you need is to get over this pain problem, and I'll bet you could win the Boston Marathon."
"This year or next?" he grinned.
"Whatever. One more thing, you haven't invited me."
"Invited you to what?"
"To stay here with you, at least for tonight."
They lay naked together on the bed. He marveled at the touch of her firm, smooth skin as he inhaled the erotic musky scent of her. She ran her hands down his back, and then down his legs, past the join where his new legs began, and down past the exposed knee joints. And then she moved her hand and ran it up the inside of his leg and cupped his penis. He shivered at her touch, and buried his head in her sweet, shampoo-fragranced hair. The shot had started to wear off, and the pain was back. The jagged barbs that were the first indication lanced through him. But it wasn’t so bad, as if he'd had another small hit, and the pain receded as he devoted himself, mind and body, to this girl who lay in his arms.
If this is one way to deal with it, I’m good.
When they could wait no longer, and the foreplay had brought both of them to the point of a climax, he entered her, and the lovemaking became more intense. Both their bodies were slippery with perspiration, and it added to their sense of enjoyment, their pleasure in each other. They reached the end together, and Kate couldn't stop herself, she screamed out loud and long, filled with the most exquisite ecstasy. Afterward, they lay on the bed, silent. No words were needed. Until Kate's cellphone rang.
"Donovan. Who is it?"
She put her phone on speaker so he could hear. It was her reporter friend, Dan Blass.
"Hi Kate, it's me, Dan. Listen, I found some dirt on that guy you were asking about. You know, Mehdi Hussein, the Arab who owns MMP."
"That's great news, Dan. Well done."
He seemed to sense that her mind wasn't totally on the conversation. "Hey, I haven't called at a bad time, have I?"
"No, it's fine, of course it is. When can we see what you have?"
"I can meet you in the morning, say eleven o’clock. How about the Clarion Diner? Do you know where that is?"
"Yes, of course. We'll see you there then."
She ended the call. “What do you think? This could be what we need, someone who’s prepared to blow the lid of Hussein’s scam.”
"Can we trust him?"
She nodded slowly, thoughtfully. “I think so. Yes, I'm sure we can. After all, he's a journalist. His job is rooting out corruption and stuff like that. It'll be fine. Let's go see what he has."
* * *
The Clarion Diner was an obvious place to meet; the building had once housed a local newssheet called the Patriot Clarion. These days, its claim to fame its fresh brewed coffee, which many patrons claimed was the best in the city. They approached the building from across the street, keeping an eye out for any signs of enemy action. Despite her confidence, Taylor still harbored a nagging doubt about the journalist. The diner came into view, about sixty yards away, and as they drew near, they saw Dan Blass walking toward the diner from the opposite direction. He constantly checked his surroundings, looking from side to side; his face wore a worried expression, which in view of the propensity of MMP to use extreme violence was unsurprising. It looked as like he may have been genuinely on their side, until another man came into sight, shadowing Blass at a distance of about ten yards. He was huge, dwarfing the other pedestrians around him. His face carried a look of savage intent, and when he looked across the street and spied Taylor and Kate, his smile was colder than the chill of an Arctic winter. Gunter Metz. They stopped, and Taylor looked around for the obvious trap. Sure enough, two men were watching them from a car parked a few yards behind them, Gunter’s men.
"Kate, we need to get out of here, fast!"
"But…"
"Just move, let's go!"
One of the men in the car leaned out the window, and Taylor saw he was holding an AK-47S with the stock folded. It was probably the only thing that saved them. Without the stock tucked into the shoulder, it was virtually impossible to aim the weapon accurately. He fired off a quick burst, half a dozen shots that whistled overhead and missed them by a couple of feet. In the distance, they heard a cry, and Taylor saw Blass thrown to the ground. Two of the rounds meant for them had gone past and hit him. It looked to Taylor as if the wound was fatal, two 7.62mm bullets at such short range would hit a body like an express train. He dragged Kate into a narrow alleyway and started to run. He could hear the other men pounding along behind them, and he risked a quick glance behind. Both men were fit, probably former Special Forces, and behind them Gunter was doing his best to keep up. Taylor’s tin legs bore him swiftly along, but he was worried about Kate. She wasn't trained to carry out the kinds of lightning fast maneuvers that were necessary for urban escape and evasion.
He briefly considered splitting up and drawing the men away from her. But if they saw the move, at least one of them would go after her. He had to get her away. He kept moving, using every trick of cover and angles to try and throw off their pursuers, but the men were still close behind. In desperation, he guided her into a narrow alley; a sign indicated it led to a large department store. But almost as soon as they'd rounded the corner, he saw his mistake. It was a delivery entrance, and all the doors were locked. He turned around, but it was useless, the men were almost on them.
"We’ll keep going to the end of the alley and hold them off from there."
She ran on gamely until they reached the end of the narrow lane, and then they stopped. There were some garbage bins pushed against the building, and he tucked her down to hide behind them, but it was a futile gesture. AK-47 bullets would go through the bins as if they were no more than paper bags. Their pursuers slowed as they realized they had their quarry cornered, and then Gunter appeared. He walked along the alley and stopped halfway.
"You may as well give it up, Taylor. If you're lucky, I might let the girl go."
Taylor was still working out his options. He knew if he put down his pistol, the men would shoot both of them down like dogs. He had only one card left to play, and that was time; time, in the desperate hope that someone may happen by and called the cops. He tried to sound confident.
"It doesn't work like that. If you try and take us, I'll kill at least one of you before you get to me, maybe two. Which of you men wants to die first?" They looked at each other, and it was obvious he'd hit home. "If you let the girl go, I'll surrender."
He could see Gunter thinking furiously how he could twist the arrangement so as to allow him to get both of them, without losing any men.
"Okay, but you'll have to put the gun down first."
Taylor laughed, "What are you, some kind of an amateur? You know it doesn't work like that. She clears the area before I drop the weapon."
Gunter went up to his two shooters and talked to them briefly. Then he turned back to Taylor. "We got a deal, cripple. She can walk out of here, and when she's gone, you put down the gun."
Do these guys think I’m some kind of a half-wit?
"No deal, Gunter. The only way this will happen is if we all holster our weapons, and stand well clear while she walks out of this lane. Once she's gone, I'll hand you my weapon."
"No, Jack, no! They'll kill you."
“They'll try to kill me,” he murmured. "Trust me, a lot of people have tried to kill me in the past, and I'm still alive. We have to do it this way."
"No, we don’t." Her purse was slung on her shoulder; she reached into it, took out the Makarov and held it ready. He'd forgotten about it and he cursed. The last thing he wanted was for her to be caught in the crossfire of a gun battle. The other men watched carefully, but if they were concerned that both Taylor and Kate were now armed, they didn't show it. Perhaps they had little reason to worry; the two AK-47s and Gunter's pistol were more than a match for two handguns.
They stood in silence, confronting each other like it was an old-time Wild West gunfight. Even though a shootout would likely result in their deaths, he couldn't help but think of the old Gary Cooper movie, High Noon. All they were missing was the music.
I seem to remember Gary Cooper survived that one.
"Do not forsake me, oh, my darling."
She looked at him curiously. "What? What was that?"
He realized he'd spoken out loud. "Nothing. As soon as the shooting starts, get behind cover and keep your head down."
They waited, and the men facing them waited, each for the best possible moment for a chance to gun down the opposition before they had a chance to return fire. Neither side blinked. Then one of the shooters raised the barrel of his weapon as he prepared to deliver a burst from his AK-47. Jack aimed back at him, and his finger tightened on the trigger. And he stopped when he saw them.
"Hold it right there, motherfuckers!"
He looked up; two men had entered the narrow lane, two familiar faces. Wesley Harper, who carried Taylor's own MP 7, and Levi Yates, with the big Colt 45. Gunter and his men looked around uneasily. Even with the two assault rifles, they were sandwiched between four hostiles armed with three handguns and a modern assault rifle. They could still do wicked damage, but now the odds had changed. They were outnumbered four to three, and chances were they could all die. Wes followed up on the shock of his arrival, advancing slowly toward them, and keeping them covered with the wicked-looking MP7.
"Get out of here, or I'll empty the whole clip into you, and don't think those fucking commie popguns frighten me. I used to eat those fuckers for breakfast back out in the field. Now move your sorry asses!"
They looked at each other, and one of them licked his lips. Gunter knew it was the end. He nodded, and they backed away out the end of the narrow lane. They all heard his shout just before he disappeared.
"Don't think this is over. You're fucking dead, all of you. Dead!"
Taylor and Kate ran to join the two men.
"Wes, Levi, how the hell did you find us?"
He explained they’d returning to the hotel and seen them leave for the meeting with Blass. Levi followed them while Wes went to the hotel room and retrieved their weapons. He hid them under his coat and called Levi, who guided him to their position with his cellphone.
"Thank Christ,” Taylor smiled grimly. “You got us out of one nasty situation.” He stopped, as he thought about the enemy they faced and came to a decision. “It's time to stop these bastards back footing us. If we don't take the initiative now, we could find ourselves losing the war. So far, it's only been a couple of minor skirmishes. Let's make sure the next battle is one we’re going to win."
Kate glanced at him. "How do we do that?"
"We take the fight to the enemy, that’s how. We go right to the center of their stinking black heart and cut it out."
"Fucking A," Wes exclaimed. "It's about time."
"Right. The center of this thing is Hussein. I suggest we head back to the hotel, and get ourselves ready to go visiting.”
They called a cab and returned to his room. Kate disappeared into the bathroom to wash away the sweat and grime of their encounter. When she reappeared, she’d remade her face, done her hair, and looked as fresh and beautiful as if she’d done nothing more strenuous than dinner with her lawyer friends. She stood outside the bathroom as they stared at her.
“What?”
“I guess we’re all thinking the same thing,” Wes replied. “You sure are a sight for sore eyes, Kate.”
She went bright scarlet, mumbling her thanks for the compliment. Then her eyes found Taylor. “What’s the next move?”
“We’ve been talking about that. It's time to pay him a visit, a home visit this time. Can you discover where he lives?"
She nodded. "It's no trouble. I'll get my clerk at the law center to look up the city records. Give me five minutes. It shouldn't take any longer."
While she was working the phone, he pulled weapons out of the canvas bags. Wes took the HK 416, and tucked a spare Colt 45 into his belt. Taylor wasn't comfortable with giving Levi anything more lethal than a handgun, and he handed him another Colt 45. But his father had trained him well on a variety of ordnance, and he eyed the M203 launcher hungrily.
"I put in a lot of time with one of those. My father brought home a box of practice grenades for me. We took it out into the woods and took down more than a few trees."
"You think you can handle it?"
"Like riding a bike."
He nodded. They could need the kind of heavy firepower the launcher would bring to their small band. Kate still had the Makarov. She seemed to be growing familiar with it, and as she was the only one of them with no training of any kind, it was enough for her to handle. Besides, it was a simple, tough weapon, as she had already demonstrated. He took some spare clips for his MP7 and the Sig Sauer P226, and after a moment’s thought, dragged out a couple of innocent-looking rectangular, green metal cans from the bottom of one of the bags. Kate finished talking on her cell and went over to look at them.
"What are those?"
"Claymore mines. Just in case we need to get out of trouble in a hurry."
"What do they do?" she murmured, picking one up to inspect it, and grunted in surprise at the heavy weight.
"The M18A1 Claymore, this little tin can, is an anti-personnel mine. The name was taken from a large Scottish sword, by the way. Unlike a conventional land mine, the Claymore is command-detonated and directional, meaning it’s fired by a remote command, shooting a pattern of metal projectiles into the kill zone like a shotgun. It fires these steel balls out to a range of about one hundred yards or so, in a tight, 60° arc directly in front of the device. We use them in ambushes, and as an anti-infiltration device against enemy infantry. They’re also good against unarmored vehicles, like jeeps and trucks.”
She swiftly handed the Claymore back to him. "It sounds horrible."
"It is. It’s intended to be, but it's not as horrible as being chased by an angry horde of hostiles, and having no way to stop them hacking you to pieces. There are only four of us going in there, and we have no way of knowing what kind of opposition we may face." He smiled, "Just think of the Claymores as life insurance in case things start to look bad."
She shook her head, unimpressed. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that. Jack, you’re not planning to kill Wasim Hussein? Because if you are, it makes this an assassination mission, and you can stop right now."
He took her by the shoulders and stared into her eyes. "Don't you know me better than that? We're trying to put a stop to this craziness, and every time we get near them, they start shooting at us. They do that, and we have no choice but to shoot back. But what we need is to grab the guy at the top, Hussein, and use our leverage to force him to stop.”
"What leverage?"
"Oh, yeah, I forgot. You haven't done this before. It's quite simple; once we have him, he has a choice. Either put an end to this or we kill him. Easy. That’s the leverage, his life."
"But you just said…"
"I know what I just said. It's a threat, that's all. He won't know that we won't go as far as killing him. The object is to make him believe we will."
"So promise me, you're not going in there to assassinate him."
"No way. Unless…"
She looked at him, her eyebrows raised.
"Unless he's trying to kill you. If that happens, he goes down."
* * *
It was a huge, old mansion on the outskirts of the city, illuminated by the rays of a moon that was almost full. The night was clear and cloudless, and Taylor cursed their luck. What they really needed was darkness to hide their approach and gusting winds to cover any sound they made. He put the thought aside. Luck was something you made, not a gift from the Gods. Accidents of weather and climate they just had to deal with. But the light of the moon sure showed the mansion at its most striking. Apparently, crime paid. Probably built by a 19th century wealthy shipping magnate, it was almost a fairytale castle. The building, tucked away behind a screen of tall trees, was constructed of pale gray, almost white stone with a dark gray, slated roof. Taylor counted at least eight large windows on the first floor, the same on the second floor, and several gabled windows set into the roof. At either side of the graceful structure was a round, turret-like extension that seemed to be tacked on at either end to the main house. Each of these turrets had a high, pointed roof, so the overall effect was like something from an old Hollywood movie set, or a medieval French chateau. Taylor had given his people instructions on how to follow signed orders so there would be no need for verbal commands that could be overheard. Wes had no problem with the arrangement, and Levi had learned much from his father. It was new to Kate, but she nodded her understanding. Besides, he arranged it so she would backstop him, and Levi would go with Wes. Taylor took a last look around. It seemed to be quiet.
He murmured, "Okay, let's move in. We’ll keep it silent from here on in, so try and use hand signals where possible. Wes, you and Levi follow the line of trees to the right of the chateau and check out the rear. Kate, follow me. We'll skirt to the left, approach the front, and make entry by forcing one of the ground floor windows. We'll meet up in the hallway, and split up to search the house. I don't think there is anyone there. It’s so quiet, but if any of you run into the enemy, you know what to do."
He ignored Kate’s frown.
We have a job to do, and these scumbags drew first blood. They reaped the wind, and it’s time they felt the chilly blast in return.
There was no problem reaching the house, and Taylor crouched next to one of the decorative windows with Kate right behind him. Everything was securely locked, so he had no alternative. He smashed the window with the butt of his MP7 and waited to see if the sound of breaking glass would draw attention from anyone inside.
"I don't think…"
Something. A sound!
He flashed a hand signal, but she looked blank.
"Quiet!" he hissed.
She fell silent, and he listened again. He was sure he'd heard something, a faint noise, but he couldn't place it. It was like a squeak, something blowing in the wind, or maybe a small animal, that was possible. The noise didn't come again, so he unlatched the window, and they climbed inside. They were in an ornate hallway, and for a few moments they could only stare in silence at the opulent surroundings. The walls were clad from top to bottom in ornate marble; there were rich Persian rugs scattered at intervals over the marble floor. On one wall, there was a huge mirror with an intricate, thick gilded frame. Other walls carried a selection of paintings in similarly decorated frames. Taylor doubted any of them were reproductions.
"His business is sure making a bundle," Kate muttered, still wide-eyed.
He put a finger to his lips to silence her, and listened again. He was sure he’d heard that faint whine again, but when he concentrated, there was nothing. He jerked his gun around, hearing a noise from the back, but it was only Wes and Levi. He nodded to them, indicating they would start searching the first floor. Kate started to walk toward the staircase. A sixth sense told him what would happen almost before he took note of the security system that guarded it.
"Stop!"
It was too late. She put one foot on the first step and all hell broke loose. Whatever Hussein was trying to protect, or hide, it was clearly on the upper floors. No doubt the alarm was set on the staircase as a convenience, to keep the upper floors alarmed, and yet allow free access to his guests in the reception areas. Kate had broken some invisible beam, and the house echoed to alarm sirens, wailing both inside and out. The noise was deafening, and in addition, floodlights switched on outside to illuminate the grounds. It was surreal, an abrupt transition from the night's silence to the total chaos of the security systems. He heard the noise again, but this time there was no mistake. The whine was rising to a howling crescendo, and then the loud barking started, the deep throated, angry snarl of big mastiffs. Now he understood, they'd been stationed in some room, ready to be let loose when the alarm system automatically opened their cage door.
"Dogs! They'll be on us in a few seconds, Get moving, form a defensive perimeter."
"But, Jack, they're just dogs," Kate objected.
And then she gasped as the pack swarmed down the staircase, and the first two animals came into view. Taylor squeezed off a half dozen shots, and they went down, tumbling lifeless to the floor. One of the shots hit a dog behind, and it whined in agony but came on. Behind him, Levi cried out.
"Jesus, I know those bastards. They’re Presa Canarios. Their bred for fighting, and when they get their teeth into someone, they won't let go. They're killers."
Taylor had read about them too. The Presa Canario hailed from the Spanish Canary Islands where the formidable animals were trained for hunting, and for war. During the 18th century, English merchants came to the Canary Islands, bringing with them their working and gladiator dogs, notably Mastiffs and Bulldogs. They also brought with them their traditions of pit fighting, for which their breeds and the island dogs were inevitably mixed and eventually bred to produce the ultimate fighter. The breed came to be used for guarding and driving cattle, but they were the same killing machines as when they first entered the fighting arena. Wesley opened fire as the rest of the pack came into view; single shots that slammed into the brutal animals and knocked them down before they could reach them. Except one, it came on; it seem to have a charmed life as it charged toward them without being struck by any of their bullets. It launched into the air, diving unerringly toward Kate Donovan's neck. She saw it coming and froze, and then there was the blast of a heavy handgun. Levi’s .45 caliber bullet smashed into the animal, and the power of the heavy round knocked it away from its intended attack path. It was already dead when it landed on a ten thousand dollar antique Persian rug.
"Nice shooting, Levi," Taylor gave him an approving nod. "I can't see any more yet, but we need to keep our guard up. I guess those alarms will bring a posse of security men inside of about ten minutes. That's all the time we have. If we're not out of here by then, we won't get out."
"Those dogs were guarding the upper floors," Kate shouted. "We’re on limited time, so we should search up there, and see if we can find anything we can use against Hussein. It's obvious he's not here, so we may as well make the best of it, and try and to take out something worthwhile. It could be we’ll find documents to support that data you brought out from his office. Maybe even enough to bring him down.”
Taylor nodded. "It doesn’t make up for missing Hussein. We need to confront that bastard on our terms, but it’s better than nothing. Levi, you go with her and see what you can find. Wes and I will set up a defense here, in case anyone turns up before we can get out. You'd better hurry it up. We're down to about nine minutes. You know what you're looking for, any kind of documents and photographs that could link him to illegal activities."
They ran up the stairs, and Wes went to the front of the house to check for signs of a response to the alarms. Taylor went to the rear and opened the door to check outside. He immediately slammed it shut and ran back to find Wes, but Harper was already running toward him.
"Jesus Christ, you see what I see?"
"Yeah, there must be twenty or thirty of them running around outside, the same breed of dog. The security system released them into the grounds. I guess the idea is to hold any intruders here until the guards or cops arrive; or rip them to shreds, so they never get out."
“How do we get out of here?" Wes asked. "We can take those brutes down, sure, but it'll take time. Hunting them down could take an hour, and we don't have an hour."
"You’re right. We don't have an hour, so start picking them off. I'll go check on Kate and Levi. I guess that ten minutes is going to seem like a pretty long time. At least we're safe enough inside here."
He turned to start up the stairs but stopped when Wes shouted.
"They're inside the house!"
Fuck!
He’d forgotten the open window he'd used to force an entry. Already, he could see the first two dogs were sprinting towards them, and a whole pack of them howling and barking at the window as they competed to squeeze through the narrow opening.
"Fall back to the staircase! We'll try and hold them there."
The staircase was wider than he would have liked for defense against a howling pack of killer dogs, but they didn’t have a choice. They stood shoulder to shoulder halfway up to the first landing, and shot the first two dogs as they tried to come at them, their slavering mouths open, teeth bared to savage.
"Kate!" he shouted up the stairs. "We got problems. You need to hurry up."
He heard her voice shouting back to him. "We need more time, Jack. There's a treasure trove of stuff up here. Documents, contracts, photographs, everything we need to link Hussein to local politicians and officials he must have bribed to obtain permissions to demolish whole streets of people's homes. But it's taking time to sort through them and find what we need. We can't leave now. We've hit the mother lode."
"Okay, we'll try and hold them off, but for Christ’s sake, hurry!"
For some reason the dogs had stopped their direct attack and were pacing around in circles in the hallway, growling and snarling, as if they were psyching themselves up for the next attack.
Is that possible? Do dogs do that?
“Jack!” Levi called down from the second floor. “A heap of guys have turned up outside, and they don’t look too friendly. The guy in charge is an Arab, looks like it’s our guy.”
Hussein! So that’s why the dogs stopped. He used a whistle or electronic device to hold them back until he was ready.
He turned to Wes, standing beside him on the staircase. “They’ll come at us soon, probably use the dogs to hit us first, then come in shooting behind them.”
"Use the HK on full auto if they come at us. I'm going to deploy a Claymore."
He planted the green metal landmine, digging the spikes into the woodwork, and went to the bottom of the staircase and into the hallway, to peer out of the big window at the end of the room. He could see them, a group of armed men. Guards, mercenaries, call them what you like, their intention was the same, to kill them for daring to intrude on their master’s privacy. In front of them he recognized a familiar figure. Mehdi Hussein stood separately from them; out in front, a determined, vengeful warlord ready to kill to defend his turf. Taylor ducked back to rejoin Wes, and they waited for the attack.
“They’ll unleash the dogs first. There are about ten guards out there and Hussein. They’re coming to kill us, so when that Claymore detonates, give ‘em hell!”
They waited as the seconds ticked past.
“What do you think?” Wes muttered. “I don’t like this. It’s too quiet.”
“I’ll go back down and check.”
Taylor stepped back down the stairs and peered out. It was about to begin.