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Topher, Damon, and Marcus had fallen deeply asleep aboard the C-5 Galaxy. That is until Hail called their names and abruptly awakened them.
“Yeah,” Damon answered.
“Sorry to do this to you guys. Things are moving a little faster than I had anticipated. I need for all of you to get out of the racks and perform a pre-flight checklist on the other Huey.”
“What happened to the first Huey?” inquired Damon.
“Let’s just say I lost my damage deposit on it,” Hail said. “I need you guys operational in about thirty minutes. You could be flying into a hot LZ, but we will try our best to create diversions to help limit your obstacles.”
“Great,” Damon said, making no effort to hold back his sarcasm.
“I’ll text you the coordinates. Make sure to get some rifles from the gun closet on the Gulfstream. I’ll call you when we need you to pick us up.”
“Can’t you just call an Uber?” Damon suggested.
“Nah, I can’t afford two helicopters and a car on the same night.”
*-*-*
On the Hail Nucleus, Sarah told Jason, “These tanks are too slow. We need to do some recon. Let’s activate our flying drones.”
Jason responded, “Yeah, I’m all about heading to the sky.”
Sarah reported to Dallas, “We are going to take to the air for a different vantage point.”
Dallas said, “Sounds like a plan.”
Starling and Wilson released their joysticks and flipped to the Jefferson Starship screen’s main page. A menu of weapon options appeared, and the two pilots selected flying drones. Sarah chose Journey and Jason selected Metallica.
Out in the field, two of the mini-tanks went dark as Sarah and Jason switched over.
Wilson set his feet on his flight pedals and wrapped his hands around his joysticks. He squeezed the trigger on his right controller, and the drone called Metallica rose up from its cargo hold located on the upper part of Jefferson Starship. Next, Wilson tested the operation of his aircraft by rotating it first to the right and then to the left, maintaining a fixed hover over the capsule. With the sun now fully up, night had given way to an exceptionally bright and clear day and the video streaming from the drone was phenomenal. He turned in the direction of Metallica’s bay. Jason was pleased to see Sarah’s drone hovering next to his drone.
“OK,” Dallas said. “Make a wide pass around the area and record everything you see. If possible, I’d like to know troop strength and locations. We need to know if we are going to be onsite for another ten minutes or for another day.”
“Roger that,” Starling and Wilson said in unison.
*-*-*
Kornev exited the home, taking with him a radio Zain had given him. Zain hadn’t seen a reason to flee.
As Shallah looked around the room for the Russian, the plywood they’d hastily installed over the missing front door detonated. The concussion of the blast dropped Zain and a dozen of his men to the floor like their legs had suddenly been chopped off. The detonation made Zain’s ears ring and caused extreme disorientation. It took him possibly thirty seconds to remember his location and his reason for being in the safe house. He looked down at his hands to discover his rifle was missing. He sat up slowly and observed a robotic mini-tank sitting in the doorway. Looking around, he located his rifle about a meter in front of him. Trying to avoid drawing attention to himself, Zain slowly inched forward and grasped his rifle.
He raised the gun and aimed at the tank. From earlier observation he’d determined shooting the wedge-shaped body was futile. Instead, Zain aimed at the robot’s tracks. He fired one shot and quickly ducked behind the couch. There was no return fire from the tank so he thought gleefully that he had disabled the contraption. Zain counted to ten before peering over the couch. To his dismay, the tank was still sitting there but now pointing in his direction. The machine spat at him. The projectile reminded him of a spitball travelling through a straw.
The jihadi felt something sting his forehead. He almost laughed at the ineffectual effort from the little tank, but less than five seconds later, his jocularity was replaced by growing discomfort. He shrank behind the couch and touched the spot on his forehead with his index finger. He checked his finger but saw no blood. Stranger still, his forehead was beginning to burn as was the tip of his index finger. He couldn’t know that the reason he’d inadvertantly been able to spread the acid to his finger was the depth of skin to bone on the forehead is much thinner than, say, an arm or the buttocks. The pellet simply couldn’t penetrate as deeply. The discomfort turned into something resembling agony. It felt like a nasty insect was attempting to burrow into his skull. Using the index finger from his other hand, he rubbed the spot on his head firmly to no avail. Except for coming away with another burning finger, it had done nothing to alleviate or shut down his pain. Now, the insect had turned into a drill bit that he feared might be removing chunks of bone.
On the other side of the couch, the tank began spitting wads at every man in the room. Zain had to consider the possibility that whatever the tank shot at him might prove fatal. Based on the degree of pain he was experiencing, he was certain a second shot from the tank would be. Fighting something he didn’t understand was counterintuitive. He needed to regroup. Without saying a word to his downed men, Zain ran from the living room toward the same bedroom window the Russian had exited earlier. It was still open, so he threw his rifle out and dove after it headfirst, rolling once he hit the ground. He retrieved his weapon and ran away from the home.
As he ran, he clicked on his radio and said, “Kornev, wherever you are, call the inspector and tell him I need all his men like yesterday.”
*-*-*
Hail received a phone call. He answered, “What do you have, Dallas?”
The boy sounded upbeat. “Good news: We cleared about a 50-yard perimeter. Bad news: The banker vacated the house and is probably making his way to the backline.”
“Did you blow the poles?” Hail asked.
“We blew the top ring on all four poles.”
“What was the impact?” Hail asked.
“A whole bunch of ouchies followed by mass desertion.”
Hail smiled and said, “Congratulate Knox on his new pellet.”
“Yeah, like that guy needs a bigger head,” Dallas said.
“Are you airborne?” Hail asked.
“Yes, we are. We have two drones in the air, but the other two flyers are still in the cargo hold on the Starship.”
“Then are we in pretty good shape?” asked Hail.
“Yeah, I’d say that we could fly in and pick you guys up now,” responded Dallas.
Hail cupped his phone and told the others, “Dallas thinks we could be picked up now.”
Kara’s voice held skepticism, “Do they have Shallah in custody?”
“No, he escaped from the house.”
Kara didn’t look angry but she did look disappointed. “You guys go,” she said. “I’m not leaving here until I have that son of a bitch in front of my gun.”
Hail returned to the phone and told Dallas, “I’ll call you back. I recommend you start dive-bombing anyone brave enough to get within range. Oh, and I also need you to capture the banker.”
“Is that all?” Dallas shot back sarcastically.
“If you don’t think your Starship can handle it, I’ll understand,” Hail said.
“We’ll do our best,” Dallas said and Hail ended the call.
*-*-*
Zain tried to run away from the pain throbbing in the center of his forehead, to no avail. As he ran, he was joined by other men. The younger men overtook him, swatting and clawing at unseen injuries. Scattered all around, he was forced to avoid dozens of men on the ground writhing in pain. He did not realize yet that for those men shot earlier, the pain was just starting to subside.
Zain checked his fingers. Pus-filled blisters had formed on the fingertips of his index fingers. He used his middle finger to inspect his head wound, and to his horror, his finger touched his skull. A hole had formed a fleshy tunnel that passed through his tissue and didn’t stop until it reached bone. That contraption was an insidious weapon. What happened to the days when men shot a piece of hardened metal through a body? It appeared there was a new threat to worry about.
Zain was powerless to do anything about the hole in his head. Whatever the flesh-eating projectile was, it had run its course. Most of the pain was over. Other than having an extra hole in his head, absolutely nothing had changed. He still needed to rescue his son. Now able to concentrate once again on the fight, Zain was pleased to see fresh new truckloads of men arriving.
Zain fired a few rounds into the air to get his men’s attention.
Yelling loudly, he said, “My son is being held hostage over there.” Zain pointed to the house in the distance. He continued, “We are going to attack the home and breach it using whatever means necessary. Be aware that my son is in the bedroom on the south side of the home. Do nothing to damage that room. Is that understood?”
There was a smattering of agreement and Zain yelled, “Let’s move forward! A bonus goes to those who capture anyone in the home alive.”
Zain and a fresh 100 men strode with purpose toward the house.
Kornev was nowhere to be found.
*-*-*
Kornev watched Zain and his men break into the open field and close in on the home. This was perfect. They would do all his dirty work, and hopefully kill both Kara and Hail. If Shallah succeeded, Kornev’s problems would be over. If the banker failed, Kornev would escape with his life intact.
As the men crossed over to the next field, Kornev spied a drone appear above them. The contraption looked very similar to the one that had attacked him on the road in Termez. It reminded him of his displeasure in encountering the drones Hail had brought to their meeting in the desert. He was a proud man. Being intimidated in any way was unforgivable.
The drone hovered over the men for a minute, almost toying with them. Some men noticed the drone and shot at it. The drone began jerking in the air in a spasmodic motion making it impossible to shoot down. Kornev thought the movements looked like a computer might be calculating random coordinates and then flying the drone quickly to the appropriate spot.
The men continued to shoot at the drone until it returned fire. Kornev was no more than forty meters from the battle, but strangely he didn’t hear any gunshots coming from the drones. He saw men go down but still hadn’t heard any sounds from the weapon. It appeared the drone was shooting invisible rays at the men below. After a minute of exchanges, most of the men had run to the end of the line. The men who didn’t bail started running toward a grouping of trees lining the fields. Surprisingly, Zain Shallah ran directly toward Kornev’s position—hidden among the trees.
*-*-*
“I’ve got Zain Shallah,” Sarah reported, bending her flight stick forward to accelerate. “He’s running east toward the trees.”
“How can you tell it’s Shallah?” Alex asked.
“He’s the only guy down there dressed in expensive special ops clothing. All black. It’s really easy to pick him out.”
“Go get him,” Dallas said.
“I can’t,” Sarah, said, checking the virtual gauges on her screen, disappointment apparent in her voice. “I have just enough power to fly to the Starship for a new battery.”
“Me too,” Jason said, checking his drone’s power reserves on a screen.
Dallas shook his head in frustration. Just when they were about to tie up all the loose ends, they needed to refuel.
“All right, come on back to refuel but this time let’s take all four of our drones out. Let’s secure this Zain guy and get the hell out of here before the entire Pakistani army shows up.”
Less than a minute later, Sarah brought her drone into a hover over the top of the Starship. She touched down on the tip of the capsule. Below the drone, a set of metal prongs cinched up against it and pulled out its battery from beneath it.
All the virtual gauges on Sarah’s screen went black and a message appeared that read SIGNAL LOST.
The old battery fell into a slot on a belt-driven conveyor inside the Starship. The belt held over thirty batteries which were continually being charged from a pair of marine batteries stored in the heart of the capsule. A fresh battery slid into the mechanical fingers and the claw pressed upward to insert the new battery into the base of Sarah’s drone.
Sarah watched the words disappear from her screen, and all the avionics came back online.
“I’m good,” she said, lifting off from the refueling station, allowing Jason to refuel his drone.
It took a little less than fifteen seconds for each battery swap.
By the time Jason and Sarah’s drones were recharged and airborne, Alex and Oliver had lifted off with theirs. The Police and Iron Maiden joined Metallica and Journey. The quartet of flying drones headed in the direction where they had last seen the terrorist.
“Let’s find the banker and bring him back,” Dallas told the group. “The longer we stay...” He let his words trail off. Everyone knew time was the enemy. Extended time in the field equated to the need for more ammo, more power, and more of everything with a finite source, including the Starship itself.
The young crew had no idea just how much time they had left or how much trouble was headed toward them.
Unknown to anyone on the battlefield, the inspector had called the nearby military base. He reported a Taliban stronghold had been discovered, and he needed immediate assistance in the form of 500 combat-ready soldiers.
*-*-*
Renner looked miserable. As he sat on the hardwood floor next to Nolan, he kept fidgeting and tried to find a comfortable position that would prevent his leg and shoulder from aching.
Nolan was restless because he wanted to do anything other than hurry up and wait.
Kara told the men, “I’m going to check on the kids.”
She crawled down the hallway and into their bedroom.
Hail looked at Renner and Nolan and asked them, “Is she as crazy as I think she is?”
Nolan grunted and shrugged his shoulders, but Renner was more forthcoming in his opinion. He emphatically stated, “Absolutely. We should be choppering out of here right now but she actually wants to wait around for things to get worse, if you can believe that. I would like to remind you guys that our advantage of a surprise attack expired about thirty minutes ago when the Huey was shot out of the sky. God only knows how many men are gathered out there. We need to ask ourselves how long we can hold them off and still take off alive.”
Hail’s friend verbalized everything he’d thought. But having his friend say it hadn’t helped to sway his decision. After all, Kara had willingly put herself in harm’s way to start this operation. Although she had known it would be dangerous and knew the risk of not surviving her mission, she had nonetheless gone in with both guns blazing. She had put “skin in the game”—something she’d reminded Hail was necessary to catch the bad guys. If Hail had endured everything she did over the past few days, he wouldn’t be willing to leave without Shallah either. That was for damn sure.
Kara returned a few minutes later and reported, “The kids are really scared and confused. I told them it will just be a little longer before we can leave.”
Hail considered asking her if she still intended to take the children, even if they killed their father. This was not the right time to address that question and appear unsupportive. She was exhausted and emotionally charged. Plus, he wasn’t sure if Kara would truly know the answer until that time arrived.
*-*-*
“I saw the banker running toward those trees up a little further on the left,” Sarah told the group.
The four pilots gradually banked their drones into a turn to the east and began to decelerate once they reached the tree line. All the drones were loaded with the acid rounds. No one would die today, at least not by a Hail drone. However, many men might wish they were dead by the end of the day.
The drones climbed and spaced themselves out equidistantly from each other. Flying in a straight line, they made a pass over the wooded area. The trees were thick enough that an unknown number of men could have been hiding beneath the foliage.
“I think we’re going to have to fly lower to get a better look,” Wilson said.
“Yeah, we’re not going to see anything from up here,” Sarah agreed.
When the group reached the end of the grove, in a static hover, they descended until they were flying only five feet aboveground. They flew forward slowly, swiveling to look behind each tree as they flew deeper into the woods.
About a quarter of the way in, the butt end of a rifle whipped out from behind a tree and struck Sarah’s drone like a baseball bat. The hardwood smacked the carbon fiber frame of Journey, and the drone dove across the clearing and crunched hard against a tree. Sarah Starling’s drone was dead before she had the opportunity to realize it was off-line.
“What just happened?” Sarah yelled, releasing her control yokes.
The other three drone pilots hadn’t seen the attack, since they were paying attention to their own crafts as their screens streamed video from the individual drones they were flying.
Dallas suggested, “Play back the last few seconds before the drone went down.”
Sarah pressed some icons and set the queue on the video to play the last fifteen seconds. She pressed PLAY while the other pilots continued to search the forest.
On replay Sarah’s drone, Journey, had maneuvered to look behind a thick tree. Its video showed what looked like a rifle swinging at the drone. Of course, there was someone holding the other end of the rifle, but it happened so quickly Sarah had to rewind the video and watch it frame by frame. She saw the rifle appear from behind the tree again, and she saw a pair of hands wielding the object. Three frames later, she froze the video and said, “Oh, my God. It was the Russian.”
Frozen on the screen was a blurry snapshot of Victor Kornev wearing a maniacal smile.
Dallas said, “Let’s take our drones up higher so we are out of reach.”
The other three pilots immediately climbed five feet higher to avoid the same fate as Sarah. Knox rounded the tree and saw a soldier running away. He placed the red laser on the man’s neck and pulled the trigger on his air gun.
“Bingo,” Knox said, but the man didn’t stop running. Alex knew it didn’t matter. Hail’s crew had all witnessed the effectiveness of the new acid rounds. The man could run but he wouldn’t be able to run away from the pain.
“Where are Kornev and Shallah?” Dallas asked in frustration. “Come on you guys. We gotta find them.”
*-*-*
While the drones searched the woods, Kornev and Shallah left the trees and made a wide loop around to the back of the property. They were now hiding behind a shed no further than twenty feet from their enemy’s back door.
Zain looked around skittishly, doing his best to spot mini-tanks or flying drones closing in on them. The main advantage for positioning themselves behind the house was the absence of the weaponry’s cameras. The large capsule was located on the other side in the front yard.
Hunched in a defensive posture with his rifle up and out in front of him, Zain scurried up to one side of the back door to Safe House Two, pressing his back against the exterior wall. With his left hand, he tried the door handle. To his surprise, it turned. If this home was booby trapped in the same way as the other home, a machine gun was duct taped to the back of a kitchen chair, a string was tied to the trigger, and the trigger was secured to the inside door handle.
Zain motioned for Kornev to join him. Before leaving his hiding spot, Kornev again checked for drones and tanks. He quickly crossed the small expanse of yard and assumed the same position as Zain. They located an old broom on the ground. Zain picked it up. Holding his rifle in his right hand and the broom in his left, Zain first opened the back door wide enough to insert the broom’s handle in the crack. Levering the broom, he pulled the door wide open.
A spray of bullets from a machine gun pulverized the leading edge of the door along with the sweeping end of the broom, leaving Shallah holding a three-foot stub of wood. The door slammed open, bounced off the wall, and slammed shut again. Undeterred and using what was left of the boom handle, Zain opened what remained of the door and took a quick peek inside. As far as he could tell, the kitchen was unoccupied.
Leading with his assault rifle, Zain moved into the kitchen, cleared it, and motioned for Kornev to hide with him behind the kitchen island.
Kornev didn’t have a good feeling about this, but he calculated that by joining the banker, his odds of killing Kara and Hail increased tenfold. He quickly crouched down behind the island next to Shallah.
*-*-*
Inside, from their positions in the hallway, Hail and his crew heard the back door open. A moment later, they heard the ack-ack-ack of machine gun fire.
Before anyone could say a word, Kara pulled her scarf up around her head and face and informed the men, “It’s showtime. Trust me.” As she left the safety of the hallway and darted into the living room, Kara slipped the string off the gun guarding the front door and opened it. Before exiting, she turned and raked the kitchen with a stream of automatic rifle fire. Some of the bullets found the backsplash over the sink and shattered tiles. It sounded like a jackhammer struck them. A few more rounds went low and punched small holes in a knee wall that served as a bar separating the kitchen from the living room. Other rounds chewed up the island and the surrounding woodwork. The CIA agent didn’t intend to wait around for the rebuttal. Instead, she ducked outside and closed the front door behind her.
At first, Nolan wondered why Kara had taken off. It dawned on him that it was a good tactical move. The ability to carry on a sustained firefight from the hallway alone was not a great position. Before the assailants had an opportunity to emerge from the kitchen, Nolan rushed into the living room, tipped over an oversize recliner and lay behind it on the floor. He focused his sights on the kitchen and waited for a target.
In the farthest corner of the hallway, Hail asked Renner, “Can you fire a gun?”
“Never fired a gun with my left hand, so no telling,” Renner said. “Just don’t give me one of those stupid revolvers. I need a real gun.”
Hail removed his 1911 from his leg holster and handed it to his friend.
He turned to Paige and handed her one of his revolvers.
“You sit tight and make sure no one comes down this hallway in any direction,” Hail told Paige and Gage. “Can you do that?”
“Yeah, I can sit on my ass and pull the trigger, if that’s what you’re asking,” Renner said.
Paige, however, looked terrified, which Hail thought was appropriate. Any young woman finding herself in a foreign country and in the middle of a firefight with a terrorist and his army should probably be scared.
“Paige, just hold the revolver. Intimidation can go a long way.”
“No problem,” Paige said in a shaky voice.
“All right,” Hail said, and crawled forward.
*-*-*
Outside, Kara ran to the side of the house and stopped under a high kitchen window. She knew Kornev and Shallah were battling it out with Hail and Nolan. Difficult though it was to do, in order to save all their lives she had to leave her friends behind so she could get the drop on her enemies. She pressed the mag release on her weapon and stuffed in a new magazine. She racked the slide and stood. Standing on her tiptoes, Kara looked through the window. Lifting the weapon over her head, she pressed the muzzle to the glass and pulled the trigger. Set on full auto, her gun went through all thirty-two rounds in less than five seconds. Kara let the spent magazine fall to the ground and jammed another into the rifle. She repeated the process, not knowing if she hit anything, but the flanking maneuver would certainly put the fear of God into Shallah and Kornev.
After emptying the second magazine, she replaced it with a fresh one and ran to the kids’ bedroom window.
She quickly pushed up the glass pane, placed her Glock into her vest’s front-facing holster and hefted herself up and over the ledge. She dropped down inside the bedroom and began to free the kids from their bulletproof-safe zone.
*-*-*
Hail took a quick peek around the corner into the kitchen. He saw Kornev pop up over the island to fire a burst toward Nolan who was hiding behind the chair in the living room. This is close quarters combat, Hail thought. He readied his rifle to fire, stuck it around the corner and released a burst in the direction of the kitchen. The response to Nolan and Hail’s gunfire was immediate. Kornev and Shallah began bombarding the wall behind Nolan with 7.62 caliber rounds.
Hail crouched down lower to the floor, stuck his gun around the corner and squeezed off another burst, firing blindly. He was shooting more by feel than by visual acquisition. He didn’t want to risk exposing his face. Nolan was doing the same. It seemed like a smart way to fight but then how would Hail know? This was his first gun battle as a participant. Hail didn’t know if this was Nolan’s first or not, but Hail wanted the option to escape unscathed with the chance to engage in another gun battle in his future. Hail stole another glance around the corner of the hallway and saw a round cylinder resembling a long tin can roll out of the kitchen and into the middle of the front room. Hail had no idea what the weapon was until the flashbang went off.
Hail, who had been staring directly at the device, was temporarily blinded, and the concussion sent him into a fetal position on the floor. Nolan didn’t fare much better. In the time it took the men to realize what had happened, Kornev had advanced quickly and had pressed his rifle’s muzzle against Hail’s head. Likewise, the muzzle of Shallah’s weapon was resting on the side of Nolan’s temple.
Hail thought he heard the banker say something, but his ears were still ringing loudly from the 170-decibel explosion. All the sounds in the room sounded muted, like someone was speaking through a pillow.
Shallah tapped Nolan on the head with the butt end of his rifle and yelled something at him. All Hail heard was the word “Where?” The rest was garbage.
Kornev seemed to be enjoying himself. In the past, Hail had always been holding the best cards. The tycoon had made Kornev grovel and capitulate to a lifestyle the Russian had no intention of living. Now, however, it was Kornev with a royal straight flush. Victor smiled and pressed the hot tip of his weapon against Hail’s cheek. Hail flinched and looked at Kornev with hatred burning intensely in his eyes.
“I should have killed you when I had a chance,” Hail seethed.
“Yeah, you really should have,” Kornev agreed. “I am not one to make that same mistake. As soon as we round up the rest of your people, I will immediately rectify that situation.”
The taps Shallah had been giving Nolan’s head turned into raps. A thin trail of blood meandered down the side of the lieutenant’s face.
Hail’s hearing was beginning to recover. The next time the jihadi spoke he was able to understand his words.
“Where is my son?” Shallah yelled at Nolan.
Nolan wouldn’t say a word. He sat stoically on the ground as the banker continued knocking his head with the end of the rifle.
“Your son is right here,” a female voice said.
The two children, accompanied by Kara and Renner, stepped out from the hallway and entered the living room. The boy and girl stood in front of Kara, and Renner stood behind them. Paige, having come forward, still guarded the hall with Hail’s .38 revolver.
With his back to the hallway, Kornev had been completely caught off guard. Renner placed his pistol against Kornev’s left temple and said, “Drop it.”
When Kornev didn’t respond fast enough, Renner used the butt of the gun as a hammer and brought it down on top of Kornev’s skull. Kornev crumpled.
The children stood quietly in front of Kara. They weren’t crying, but they cowered together. Kara wasn’t pointing her handgun at the children, but it was in her hand. She assumed their father got the point because his weapon sagged in his hands.
“Don’t hurt him,” Shallah exclaimed.
Nolan reached up and snatched the rifle out of Shallah’s hands. He stood, wiped some blood out of his right eye and held the banker at gunpoint.
Hail removed his cell phone from his pocket and pressed a number he had on speed dial. He waited a moment for one of his three ex-Marines pilots to answer.
Hail said in a voice that sounded 50% tired and 50% relieved, “Come pick us up.”
*-*-*
Hail placed a second call to his crew on the Hail Nucleus.
“Dallas,” Hail said. “We have Kornev and Shallah at gunpoint. I need you guys to maintain the perimeter. The Huey is coming to pick us up. Will your team have a problem with that?”
Exuding confidence, Dallas said, “No, I think we have this under control. Journey got crunched, but we are going to direct the other three flying drones back on the Starship. All four mini-tanks will be sent out to set up a perimeter. The acid pellets don’t weigh very much and take up so little space, we have thousands of rounds left in each tank. Besides that, we still have four more blast rings on each pole. We should be good for at least an hour or more. Of course, that is dependent on how many more men they want to throw at us.”
“Very good,” Hail said. He then added, “Tell the crew they did a wonderful job. Jefferson Starship was a hit.”
*-*-*
Men continued to arrive on the outskirts of the property, prepared to go into battle. During the skirmish, it had been Zain running the show. He had deployed the men as they arrived and had coordinated the attacks. Zain had designated certain men to oversee various squads, and those men had been responsible for rallying the other men into battle.
Now, however, all communication with their leader had been cut off. As fresh soldiers arrived, there was no one to tell them where to go or identify the objective. The men who had been shot with acid bullets had very little interest in returning to battle, so they began straggling off. At first, it was just a man here and there, but as more men arrived, entire groups of men left. Without Zain’s leadership, there was no commander, no objective, and no reason to risk their lives.
Back in the command center aboard Hail Nucleus, Sarah, Dallas, Alex, and Oliver had sent their drone tanks fifty yards out from the house. Each mini-tank was guarding a corner of the property. Hail’s crew monitored their screens as they scanned the horizon for potential targets and waited for an imminent attack.
As the tanks remained in position, far off in the distance, their sensitive microphones picked up the sound of an incoming helicopter. The chopper came in fast and transitioned smoothly to a controlled hover. With Jefferson Starship and the wrecked Huey located in the front yard, the chopper lowered cautiously to the ground, finally resting on the west side of the house.
Kara told Hail, “Why don’t you take the kids? I have some business I need to settle before I join you.”
Hail looked uncomfortable.
Kara thought his hesitation might be due to a tactical issue so she asked, “Do you think there will be a problem holding the perimeter for another ten minutes?”
“No,” Hail said. “We should be good.”
Hail turned to Renner. “Can you and Foster take the kids back to the ship? Once you guys get there safely, send the chopper back to pick up Kara and me.”
Paige added, “And the Starship.”
“Are you sure?” Renner asked.
“Yeah,” Kara said, giving Zain Shallah an ice-cold stare.
“Do you kids want to go on a helicopter ride?” Kara asked.
The children looked to their father for permission.
Zain told them, “Go, I will see you soon. I promise.”
That single sentence tore at Kara’s heartstrings because she knew the kids would never again see their father.
Renner opened the decimated front door. The children, accompanied by Paige and Nolan, followed Renner outside.
Before stepping outside, Nolan turned and said to Kara and Hail, “Be careful.” He closed the door.
Kara used her gun to direct Shallah into the kitchen.
“Sit down,” she told him.
The banker pulled out a kitchen chair and sat. He was sweaty and obviously very weary. Kara took a seat. Hail stood behind her with one of his .38 special revolvers trained on Zain.
Kara said, “I guess you know you won’t be leaving this room alive, right?” She unwrapped the black scarf from her head and let it fall to the ground. She needed the man to see her face. It was the face of a survivor. It was the face of a vigilante.
The terrorist said nothing.
Kara didn’t expect much of a reaction from the man, but this part was important to her. She had waited more than two years for this moment, and she was determined to say everything she needed to express. No psychologist could offer this type of therapy.
Kara stated, “I probably know why you did it, but I need to hear it from you before I kill you. Why did you shoot down American Airlines Flight #264?”
The banker looked at her with dull and expressionless eyes—bottomless brown pits consumed with hatred. Within those eyes, Kara saw a glimmer of resignation, as if he knew this day would come. At some level, Shallah had already accepted his fate, but the woman’s question gave him a small glimmer of hope.
He said, “I didn’t take down the plane. It was my brother, Naveed, who shot down the plane.”
Kara pointed her thumb at Kornev, who was just beginning to stir on the floor behind her.
“Your arms dealer over there said you were the man who pulled the trigger.”
“How would he know? He wasn’t there. All he does is supply us with weapons. He doesn’t go out on missions with us. He is a worthless infidel who cares only about himself.”
Kara glanced back at Kornev, now sitting in an upright position and rubbing the knot on his head.
Kara said, “I can’t argue with you on that point, but you were the one who purchased the missile that took down the plane, correct?”
The man said nothing.
“I thought as much,” Kara said somberly. “So, you are the brains; your brother is the brawn.”
The banker didn’t understand the statement so he remained silent.
Kara thought for a moment before she raised her gun and aimed at Zain’s forehead.
In a shaky voice, Kara told him, “You are just as culpable as your brother. You are responsible for an incalculable amount of sorrow all over the world. Therefore, since your God doesn’t appear ready to mete out your punishment, I will be the person to right that wrong.”
Kara pulled back the hammer on the pistol and asked, “Do you have any last words?”
“Take care of my son,” Zain pleaded.
Kara hesitated and replied icily, “You also have a daughter.”
The banker didn’t respond, but if he could have killed Kara with a single look, the one he gave her now surely would have extinguished her life.
“See you in Hell,” Kara said and her finger tightened on the trigger.
At first, she set the gun’s steel sights on the terrorist’s forehead. For some reason, she allowed the gun to drop a little until it was lined up with the bridge of his nose. She let the gun sag so it pointed at the man’s heart.
Kara exhaled and then took in a deep rush of air. She held her breath and brought the gun back up to the man’s forehead. Her finger twitched on the trigger. She was shaking with emotion. She willed her finger to pull the trigger, but why the hell was her finger refusing her command? The entire gun vibrated in her hand. A bead of perspiration dripped from her forehead and landed on her outstretched arms.
No matter how hard she willed her brain to send her trigger finger a single electrical pulse, that trigger finger just wouldn’t work. Utter failure. She had gone through all the planning, fortifying the homes, giving up her job with the CIA, putting herself, Hail and his crew in danger to put this man down. And she couldn’t put a hole through this wretch sitting in front of her. He was nothing more to society than a rabid dog, and he deserved to be put down, yet her finger refused to budge.
Zain watched as his life flashed before his eyes and he wondered if he would indeed be rewarded in the afterlife for the good works he had performed during this life for the sake of Allah. In the Islamic tradition, the Angel of Death comes forth to take your soul by the will of Allah. Looking at the woman across from him, Zain was certain that she was the angel called Malak al-Maut. He could not imagine a more beautiful angel. Islamic sinners’ souls were extracted in a painful way, whereas, the righteous were treated with great tenderness. Zain had not been seriously wounded, and he suffered little pain. The angel was ready to take his soul, and he was ready. For some reason, the Angel of Death was not pulling the trigger.
Hail broke the agonizing tension and said, “It’s OK, Kara. I would have difficulty shooting a man in cold blood as well.”
Kara lowered the gun and Shallah let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.
Hail said, “Even if you think you are, you’re not that person. It takes a coward like this scumbag to kill without remorse, compassion, or anything that makes us human. He lacks those qualities. He’s an animal that doesn’t deserve to be on this planet for even one more day.”
Hail reached over, took the black semi-automatic from Kara’s hand and pocketed the weapon. He placed his .38 special on the table in front of her. He then did something that totally flabbergasted her. He pulled out the matching .38 special from his hip holster, popped open the cylinder, verifying the revolver was fully loaded, showed Shallah the cylinder and snapped it closed. Hail placed it on the table in front of Shallah.
He told Kara, “Now you don’t have to feel bad about it. He has the same chance of killing you as you have of killing him. That way, once he’s dead, you will have no feelings of remorse.”
Hail stopped talking and stepped back. Both Kara and Zain stared at the guns in front of them. The .38s were indeed identical. Each gun gleamed on the table, shiny nickel with pearl-handled grips.
Zain could see the ends of the bullets in the gap between the cylinder and the gun’s frame. He clearly saw that the gun in front of him was loaded. Zain was good with guns. Guns had been part of his life as a child. A little smile flashed across the terrorist’s face and then faded just as quickly.
On the other side of the table, Kara wasn’t smiling. All her concentration was focused on the movements of the man across from her. She was certain that if she didn’t kill Zain, Marshall would finish him. Now that Marshall had armed the man across from her, her emotions were strangely clouded.
Hail stood silently, waiting patiently a few feet off to the side. He held his 1911 he’d retrieved from Renner. If Shallah even hinted at turning his gun on Hail, he would fire a single .45 slug into the terrorist’s head and blow him out of his chair.
Kara and Zain looked at one another, back to the guns, back up then down, each seemingly waiting for the other to reach for the gun.
Zain took the time to analyze the situation. He knew he had to kill not only the woman but also the man. Killing just the woman would still result in his death. Therefore, it would be a quick shot toward the woman, followed by a second shot into the man’s torso. This was possible. The man would be distracted by the exchange of gunfire and not expecting the second shot.
Without telegraphing his move, Zain’s hand darted toward the revolver. Kara was no more than a tenth of a second behind him. Zain’s large finger took more time to thread in behind the trigger, and Kara recovered the lag time she had lost. Both guns rose and both triggers were pulled before the targets had been fully acquired. The report from each of the weapons was deafening in the small kitchen. Kara felt the hot gases from Zain’s gun, but she didn’t feel the bullet. She froze in place, gun raised level with her eyes pointed at the man who had helped kill her parents, she was paralyzed—stunned from the exchange.
The hole in the center of the terrorist’s head, which burned through to his skull after being struck by an acid bullet was now bleeding. A river of blood oozed out of the hole and ran down the bridge of his nose. Zain Shallah still stared at Kara but there was a vacancy behind his piercing eyes. Slowly, like a rotting tree succumbing to a strong wind, the man leaned sideways. Kara watched as the banker poured out of his chair. A moment later, he was dead on the kitchen floor, having taken a bullet to his brain.
Kara remained frozen, gun still raised but looking at Shallah. Shock overwhelmed her; she had killed him. Kara had taken the man’s life.
Hail reached over and pried the .38 from her hands. Kara lowered her arms, rested her elbows on the table, placed her face into her hands, and began weeping uncontrollably. Hail let her release her emotions. She had made it to the other side and needed to let it all out. Killing a person, even a terrorist, was difficult. It wasn’t a natural act, and most people who had killed someone, even if in self defense, also killed a little of their souls. Hail knew a piece of Kara died a moment ago, and she would never get that innocence back. That was gone forever.
Hail sat in a chair next to her and put his arm around her. She leaned on Hail and cried on his shoulder. His heart hurt for her, but nothing he could say would help. She had carried out what she had intended. He hoped, after she sifted and sorted out all the pros and cons, she could live with her actions and reclaim her life.
From off in the distance, Hail heard a helicopter approaching.
He leaned over and kissed Kara on her forehead.
“Our taxi is here,” he told her softly.
Kara reached for Hail and hugged him.
Hail returned her embrace.
Behind them was an empty room.
“Where is Kornev?” Kara asked.
Hail looked back and said, “He must have snuck out during the duel.”
*-*-*
Kornev had indeed snuck out during the showdown. As Shallah and Kara were eyeing each other, he silently inched his way over to the front door. Checking to see if anyone was watching, he slithered out like a fat, slimy snake. Once outside, he spied one of the mini-tanks keeping a guard on the perimeter. The tank was a good twenty-five meters away.
Knowing that time was his enemy, Kornev broke into a dead run, making a beeline for the nearest tank. The machine’s wedge-shaped head was pointed out toward the countryside, scanning for men approaching the property but not men fleeing it.
As the Russian closed within ten meters of the tank, he was pleased to see the gun’s turret was still facing away from him. Seconds later Kornev had made it to the machine; it still hadn’t responded to him. He certainly wasn’t going to wait around for an introduction.
Kornev moved to the side of the tank and placed his thick boot on its metal head. He released all his pent-up anger in one great kick and knocked the mini-tank over on its side. He didn’t take the time to witness the effectiveness of the blow. He ran with the knowledge other tanks were in the area, not to mention those infuriating flying machines.
*-*-*
On the ride back to the airport Kara and Hail were silent.
For months after the death of his family Hail had said very little to anyone. Conversations became interludes of discomfort due to his personal elephant in the room. He understood that people didn’t always have to talk about their problems or pain. Sometimes they needed time to think it out, mentally rearrange their lives, and come to grips with their emotions.
The chopper touched down at Bacha Khan International Airport. Kara and Hail disembarked and walked toward the Gulfstream. The Huey immediately took off on its third trip out to retrieve the Starship.
Once inside the luxury jet, Hail made them each a Southern and Seven. They sat on the sofa and silently enjoyed their drinks, Kara’s head resting on Hail’s shoulder. Less than three sips and ten minutes later, Kara was fast asleep.
*-*-*
The cargo bay of the Galaxy turned out to be a good play area for the kids. Paige had taken Gage to the airport’s first-aid station to get a splint put on his leg and have his shoulder checked out. That left Nolan to watch after and entertain the children.
Lieutenant Foster Nolan, jet pilot, didn’t have a great deal of experience with younger kids, but he came up with a pretty brilliant plan. Explaining his every move, he strapped two chairs onto the forklift. After that, he used bungie cords to secure the kids into the chairs. The children laughed and the little girl squealed when he lifted them into the air. Initially, Nolan drove around the inside the massive cargo bay. After making several back and forth trips inside the jet, he drove down the ramp and took them on a little tour of the airport. All this, to give Hail and Kara some private time, figuring they needed to debrief, a necessary step in handling the intense events they’d just experienced.
After he sensed the children were done with the forklift ride, he parked inside the jet and released the kids from the chairs. He let them climb the ladder that led up to the second deck of the plane. Up top, he allowed them to play with the controls in the cockpit and pretend they were flying the plane. Nolan made a note to inform the pilots to meticulously check every setting before they took off, knowing that potentially all switches, dials, and circuit breakers would need to be reset.
While Nolan allowed the kids to go crazy in the cockpit, the Huey arrived with the Starship swaying underneath. The capsule was set down softly on the ground and the hook was remotely detached. From inside the C-5, Nolan watched the lifting line being wound in. Nolan yawned and tried to use his exhausted brain to calculate how long it had been since they had returned from the battle. Had it been one hour? Five hours? He didn’t know. He knew he was well beyond tired since he had been up since 8 A.M. the previous morning. The children had further exhausted him. There was some strange energy exchange happening. He felt they had sucked all his reserves from him, leaving him completely drained, while they now had a surplus of energy. How did parents do it? The more he played with the kids, the more tired he became. He figured he had the same energy-depleted look that he had seen on a few of the family men back in his old squadron when they had returned from seeing their wives and children.
Nolan had just been through armed combat so he figured he could tough out a few more hours to give Marshall and Kara time on the Gulfstream to set right whatever might require straightening. He didn’t have a clue what had transpired at the farmhouse, but since Kornev and the Pakistani jihadist hadn’t returned with them, he could guess the outcome.
Whatever had happened, he could be certain the day’s events had been traumatic for Kara. She had been on her own for days with no one to talk to. She had been under immense pressure for years now, time spent hunting down those responsible for killing her parents. Her goal in sight, she had strengthened the two safe houses and tunnel against a large enemy contingency in quite ingenious ways. But not having anyone to bounce ideas off during the time alone could be enough to send someone over the edge. And that didn’t count what went down during and after the battle.
The lift line had been hauled in and the Huey slowly touched down. After the helicopter had been properly shut down, Nolan watched as the crew exited the aircraft. The three Marine pilots walked toward the Galaxy, entering the plane from its nose ramp.
Once they made their way up the ladder, the Marines were surprised to see the children playing in the cockpit.
Nolan shrugged and said, “I didn’t know what else to do with them.”
The Marine pilots looked bushed.
“No problem. We’ll sort it out later,” Topher said. “Just don’t let them fly the damn thing,” he added as he headed toward the bunks.
Nolan killed as much time as possible. But when he couldn’t keep up with the children any longer, he ushered them out of the C-5 and into the Gulfstream for lunch.
Marshall was asleep on the couch, still in a seated position with his head slung back, mouth open and snoring loudly.
“Can we fly this one, too?” the girl asked.
Her little voice awoke Hail. With one giant snore and a gulp of air, he snapped awake. Hail glanced toward the voice and saw Nolan standing there with the kids.
“What should I do with them, Uncle Hail?” Nolan asked. He was at his wit’s end.
Hail pointed to the big CEO chairs at the front of the plane. “Let them sit there and I’ll put on a Disney movie for them to watch. Some sandwich fixings are in the fridge. Let me get just one more hour of sleep and then I’ll take over.”
“Where is Kara?” Nolan asked.
“She’s in the bedroom sleeping. We should let her sleep.”
Nolan looked less than happy, but Hail had been good to him. Letting him get one more hour of shut-eye was the least he could do for a good friend.