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Kai and Kodak moved up the second flight of stairs in complete darkness. She reached up and flipped her night vision goggles down over her eyes as she went, then tightened her hands on her pistol. Reaching the top step, she pressed against the wall and motioned to Kodak. He nodded and moved across from her, pressing against the opposite wall. They paused for a moment, listening.
Sound came from both ends of the hallway. Muffled sobbing could be heard from the right, and men were barking orders in Arabic on the left. Women, she thought, motioning for Kodak to take the right. He could make sure they were alone while she went for Masha’al. The Americans would be out front any second, and they had to witness an execution. She was running out of time.
Taking a deep breath, she moved, swinging around the corner with her gun ready. The hallway was empty, but a door on the left was ajar and she moved towards it, knowing that it faced the front of the house. It was the master bedroom, with a balcony off the front, and it was Masha’al’s private domain. Reaching out, Kai gently pushed on the door, standing against the wall as the door swung open slowly. No sound came from within and she frowned, listening to the silence. Where the hell were they?
She moved to peer around the edge of the door, looking into the master bedroom. A simple, plain bed was pushed against the wall on the left, and a prayer rug sat before the glass doors leading onto the balcony. On the left, a chest of drawers was next to a walk-in closet. A television hung over the chest, facing the bed, and that was the extent of the furniture. Moving into the empty room, Kai looked around. There was no sign of panic or leaving hastily. A quick look confirmed that the only thing in the closet was clothes.
Masha’al wasn’t here.
Clenching her jaw shut, Kai was turning to leave and search the other rooms when the low, loud sound of propellers filled the yard outside. She moved over to the balcony doors and looked out at the helicopter hovering over the compound. Here were the SEALs, but they wouldn’t be witnessing anything if she couldn’t locate Masha’al.
Spinning around, she strode swiftly towards the door. As she reached it, she pulled up short and let out a gasp of surprise as Raj came through, almost plowing into her.
“Raj!”
He reached out as if to steady her, then looked past her to the balcony.
“Where’s Masha’al?” he asked. “They’re here!”
“He’s not here. I’m going to look for him now. Did you set the charge?”
He shook his head. “Not yet. I placed it, but haven’t set it. I came to do the balcony first, but maybe there’s no need. If we can’t find Masha’al...”
She shook her head, moving into the hallway. “Rig the balcony anyway. If nothing else, it’ll warn the Americans to stay outside,” she said over her shoulder. “Then set the main charge.”
He nodded and she went towards the next room. Before she reached it, shots were fired from the other end of the hall. Kodak had run into some trouble. Hesitating for the briefest of seconds, Kai debated going to help, then decided against it. She had to find the terrorist. He was their priority. Kodak would have to take care of himself.
She reached for the handle of the next room, but as she turned it, chills streaked down her spine. She dove to the side as bullets ripped through the door and into the hall. Taking a deep breath, she pulled out the camera again, angling it under the door and looking at the image on her phone. Six men were in the large room, all holding assault rifles and all facing the door. All it took was one glance for her to know that Masha’al was not among them.
Reaching into her cargo pocket, Kai pulled out a second silver puck and pressed the button. Sliding it under the door, she took a deep breath and ran past the door, throwing herself forward as more gunfire erupted. She landed on the other side of the door and listened as the shooting stopped. A few seconds later, she heard the unmistakable sound of multiple bodies falling to the floor.
“Main charge is set.” Raj’s voice broke through her ear piece. “We’ve got five minutes.”
Kai scrambled to her feet, tucking her phone and camera back into her pocket as Kodak emerged into the hallway further down. He saw her and gave her a thumbs up, coming towards her. She motioned to the room between them and held her hand over her mouth. He nodded and pulled his jacket up over his face as he moved past the bullet-shredded door.
“The helo’s leaving,” he told her in a low voice as he joined her. “They’re on their way in.”
She let out a low curse and turned to head towards the last door. “I have to find Masha’al.”
Kodak followed her to the door and stood against the wall as she tried the handle, staying well to the side of the door. It turned easily, and she glanced at Kodak. Not a sound came from the room, and no hail of bullets greeted the releasing of the latch. Stretching out her hand, she pushed and the door swung open silently. Before they could move, an explosion rocked the front of the house and Kodak started, letting out a curse.
“Balcony?” he whispered in her ear.
She nodded and gripped her pistol in her hands, inhaling as she spun into the last room. It was empty, save for one body sprawled backwards out of a chair. She’d found Masha’al Al-Amin, and he was very dead.
Kai’s brows snapped together and she moved to her right, going towards a closed sliding door a few feet away. Keeping her back to the wall, she reached out and pushed the door open to reveal a shallow closet. It was empty, except for a round, black disc fixed onto the wall.
Kai stared at the master charge, her mind spinning. Raj had planted it in the same room with Masha’al. He knew he was dead!
Confusion warred with anger as she stared at the bomb. They needed more time. She needed more time. The only hope of salvaging any of this was for her to find the Lieutenant and make sure he saw Masha’al, and she’d need time to do that. Lifting her hand, she ran her fingers along the edge of the disc until she felt a small button. There was no question of shutting the explosives down. They had to erase all trace of them ever having been there. She pressed the button four times, adding four minutes to the timer. It wasn’t much, but it would have to be enough.
Turning away, she strode back to the body lying in the middle of the room. Kodak let out an exclamation as he came into the room behind her. “He’s dead!”
She nodded grimly.
“But...how?”
“How did they know the Americans were coming?” she countered softly, her voice low and dangerous. “How did they know to move Masha’al out of the front room? How did they know anything?”
Kodak stared at her. “You think we have a traitor?”
“I don’t know, but this whole thing is completely off the rails.”
“We need to leave. Raj set the charge. I’ll head down.” He turned to go towards the door, glancing over his shoulder at her. “You coming?”
She nodded and turned to follow slowly, her mind spinning. Someone had killed Masha’al instead of allowing him to fall into their hands, and they had done so knowing the Americans were coming. Who was that desperate to keep Masha’al’s secrets safe?
Kodak went out of the room, then stopped abruptly, staring down the hall with a look of shock on his face.
“Raj!” he breathed a second before a bullet tore into his chest.
Kai watched in horror as another shot was fired, following the first. Kodak’s eyes widened briefly in astonishment before he slid slowly down the wall, his Beretta dropping out of lifeless fingers.
Fury, hot and fierce, coursed through her and Kai was out of the door in two steps, raising her gun as she turned to face the man who had shot Kodak dead. Raj stood just past the main staircase, his gun in his hand and a sneer on his face.
Without flinching, Kai squeezed her trigger, firing twice.
Dean watched as the dark compound loomed up beneath them. The wind whipped into the helicopter through the open door and he squinted as he peered down into the inky void below. He could see the men moving away from the gate as he motioned to his team to get ready to go.
“Hostiles on the ground!” he yelled.
He noted the positions of the heavily armed men as he scanned the compound, scowling as more began emerging, all armed with assault rifles.
“That’s a hell of a lot more than we were expecting,” Brenner called. “Anything else we don’t know about?”
Dean looked at him and shrugged, his mind spinning. Their intel estimated twenty hostiles, but there were a lot more visible down there, and that didn’t include any inside the house. He scanned the area, mentally counting them up. There were more than they expected, but not so many that they couldn’t handle them, he decided. Brian’s team could always be called in, but Dean didn’t think they would need them. He’d certainly faced more than this with his team.
As he watched, two men went down seconds apart closer to the house. The motion caught his attention, and he turned his head towards the building on the left of the house. More men were appearing from behind it, and Dean saw a man holding an RPG-7. Before he could call a warning though, the man suddenly fell forward, the launcher falling to ground, as if he’d been shot from behind.
What the hell?
He stared out over the oncoming enemy, watching as many of them were brought down from behind. Someone was shooting from inside the house and hitting their own men! If they kept that up, his team would be able to walk right in. Even if they didn’t, there were substantially fewer enemies for them to deal with now, and Dean wasn’t about to question it.
“Nothing changes,” he yelled over the sound of the propellers. “Let’s go!”
Moving forward, he dropped out of the helicopter, holding on to the nylon rappelling cord with one hand as he gripped his rifle with the other. As he slid down, he heard rifle fire from above him as two soldiers covered their descent. Knowing that his team would be right behind him, Dean swung his assault rifle into his hands as soon as his boots hit the dirt. Going down on one knee, he braced it against his shoulder and starting shooting the enemy closest to the ship as the rest of the team came down. He closed his mind to the thought of some of them getting shot on the way down, instead focusing on taking out as many of the bastards as he could. One by one, his team landed behind him and, within seconds, they had cleared the area immediately in front of them.
Dean stood and started running towards the main house. Behind them, the helicopter rose and turned to fly away, having deposited its cargo as ordered. They were on their own now until they had Masha’al, then the bird would come back for them.
“You’ve got more coming from your right,” Brian’s voice said through his headset, his voice calm amidst the ferocious shooting happening all around him. “Who are all these cats?”
Dean didn’t answer, turning to his right instead, and opening fire on a group of men who had come around the side of the house.
“We’ve got this,” Brenner called to him. “Go for the HVT!”
Dean nodded. He was right. The high value target was why they were here. He turned to sprint towards the front door of the main house. As he approached, the balcony that stretched across half of the second level exploded, sending stone and plaster flying into the air. He pulled up short as a chunk of stone the size of a chair landed a few inches in front of him. Ducking and instinctively throwing his arm up to protect his face, he looked up at the gaping hole where the balcony had been seconds before. The glass doors that had led onto it were shattered and he glimpsed a man running past the opening.
“What the hell was that?!” Brian demanded.
“I have no idea,” Dean replied, moving around the chunk of rock and dodging the smaller debris that was still falling around him. “Some kind of an explosion.”
“We’re coming in,” Brian decided. “I don’t like it. Too much enemy fire, and now an explosion.”
“Brenner!” Dean spun around, searching for him. “Secure the area, then follow me in. Bravo Team is on their way.”
Brenner motioned his acknowledgment, and Dean turned to run for the front door. Crashing through it seconds later, he raised his rifle and fired at the two men coming down the stairs. When no more came, he turned and went to his left. He should wait for the others before he began clearing the house, but Dean was suddenly conscious of an almost overwhelming sense of urgency. He couldn’t place why, unless it was because someone had blown off the front balcony. All he knew was that he had to find Masha’al and get him out. Now.
Rounding the corner, he found the hallway empty and went quickly to the front room on his left. Peering around the door jam, he froze. After glancing up and down the hallway, he stepped into the front room. Bodies were everywhere. At his feet, two men were shot, one in the forehead and the other in his chest. Assault rifles were still in their hands, showing that they had been killed in self-defense. Raising his eyes, he looked at the two in the chairs. There wasn’t a mark on them, as if they’d died while watching TV. Turning his head, he saw another body near the window. None of them appeared to have been shot. Frowning, Dean had taken a step into the room before he saw the last one, sprawled on the floor near a screen, riddled with bullets. He looked at the men at his feet again, and then at the pistol near the woman’s hand. She had killed them while being mowed down with bullets.
“Front’s clear. Heading in,” Brenner said in his headset.
Dean shook his head and turned to leave the bizarre scene. He would sort that out later. Right now, he had to keep moving. Stepping into the hallway, he heard gunshots upstairs and turned to run back to the entryway. The others had just entered and they swung their rifles in his direction as he rounded the corner. Cursing, Brenner lowered his and glared at him. Dean motioned upstairs and Brenner nodded, indicating that he was going to the right. He motioned to Ron, who separated himself from the others and moved towards Dean. He would go with him while the others cleared the first floor.
They moved swiftly up the stairs and Dean looked at the dead body on the platform, glancing up the second flight of stairs. There was another one! What the hell was going on in here? Ron tapped his arm and motioned to the second floor, tapping his headset to show that he’d heard something. Dean nodded. He’d heard it too. It was the creaking of a door opening around the corner upstairs.
They moved up the second flight of stairs, their rifles ready. Dean’s heart was pounding under all the armor, and he tightened his lips as he forced himself to focus on the dark corner directly above them. Someone was there.
When rapid gunshots shattered the quiet, Dean started, confused. It had come from around the corner, but neither he nor Ron were hit. A second later, he realized that the shots hadn’t been directed at the stairs. They had been aimed down the hallway. He stopped, pressing his back against the wall. As he did so, an answering shot came from the other end of the hall, followed almost immediately by another. A second later, a man fell to the floor at the top of the stairs and rolled onto his side, a bullet hole placed perfectly in the center of his forehead. Another was in his chest and blood poured from both as a final breath expelled from the man’s body.
When no more shots were fired, Dean surged up the last two steps and stepped over the body, turning to look down the hallway. A body sagged against the wall at the end, not moving, but the rest of the hallway was clear. After checking the room immediately to his left and seeing the gaping hole where the balcony used to be, he turned to move towards the body at the far end, Ron close behind him. As they approached a closed door on their right, practically shredded with multiple bullet holes, Dean motioned that he would continue and for Ron to check the room. He moved past the door and went to the next one, glancing at the body again. This one wasn’t dressed like the rest of the terrorists. He was a civilian, dressed in black pants, but with a Beretta that had clearly fallen from his hand when he was shot. Dean frowned, remembering the woman in the room downstairs. She had been similarly dressed.
Turning into the open door beside him, he froze in the doorway, staring speechlessly as he lowered his rifle, trying to process what he was looking at. A woman dressed in black tactical gear with a Jericho pistol in her hands stood over a very dead Masha’al Al-Amin. The terrorist had been shot twice, once in the head and once in the chest, and had bled out over the wooden floor. He had been sitting in a chair, but the force of the shots had pushed the chair backwards and he was sprawled half on the floor while his legs were still hanging over the upturned seat.
As Dean came into the room, the woman swung around, raising her pistol and pointing it at him. They stared at each other for a split second in complete silence, then she slowly lowered her pistol. Before Dean could even draw a breath, however, the pistol came back up sharply and her eyes narrowed as she pulled the trigger.
Dean threw himself out of the way without conscious thought. He heard the distinctive ratta-tat-tata of an assault rifle at the same moment that she fired. He slammed into the wall and pain rolled through him, hot and fast. He sucked in his breath as he tried to determine where he’d been hit, and by whom. He tried to turn, but his leg gave out on him and he slid down the wall instead, the pain intensifying until he let out an audible gasp. The woman strode towards him and he raised his rifle, but she shook her head and motioned to the door. Turning his head, Dean stared at the body of one of Masha’al’s men. He had been shot in his head, and a rifle had fallen beside him.
“You’re shot,” the woman said, reaching him and crouching down swiftly. “It looks like the bulk of the bullets went into your armor, but your leg is bad.”
Dean stared into her face, trying to process what she was saying through the pain. She was speaking English, but she wasn’t English, of that he was certain. She had a heavy accent, but he couldn’t place it. Spanish? Arabic? Italian? It sounded like a combination of all of them, but he knew that was unlikely.
“Listen to me,” she said, gripping his face and forcing him to focus on her. “I can get you out, but we have to hurry. If you stay, you’ll die. Do you understand me?”
He nodded. “I have men,” he began, but she shook her head, cutting him off.
“No time. Can you walk?”
Dean struggled to his feet, favoring the leg that hurt the most, and looked down. His right leg had blood pouring through his pants, and the pain was excruciating when he tried to move it. Shaking his head, he grit his teeth. There was no way he was walking anywhere.
The woman moved to his right sight and threw his arm around her shoulders. “I’ll support you,” she said. “You’re Lieutenant Ryder, no?”
He looked at her sharply, his brows pulled together in a scowl. “How the hell do you know that?” he demanded. “Who the hell are you?”
“A friend.” She turned him towards the door, kicking the dead terrorist out of his way so he didn’t have to try to step over him. “Hurry!”
Dean shook his head, trying to make sense of what was happening, but the pain wracking his body was intense, and it was all he could do just to remain conscious. Leaning on her heavily, he forced himself to move with her down the hallway, past the room where Ron had gone in moments before. The door was open now and he looked in, his jaw clenching. Ron was down, shot in the head. The bastard who shot him had got to Ron first. He had to tell Brenner. He had to alert the others.
Dean reached for his radio, pressing the button, but nothing happened. Looking down, he saw that, along with everything else, his radio had also been on the receiving end of too many bullets.
The woman moved him past the main stairs, not sparing a glance for the body on the floor. Dean glanced down at her, frowning.
“Who was that?” he asked. “Did you do that?”
“He was a traitor,” she said flatly. “He deserved it.”
His frown deepened. Who were these people? Were they there to kill Masha’al? Was that what this was all about? If so, they had succeeded. But then why was she helping him?
“There are stairs,” she said, breaking into his thoughts. “You won’t make it on your leg. Slide down them. It’s faster.”
He stopped at the top of a narrow flight of stairs. “Slide?” he repeated.
“Yes. Like when you are child. GO!”
Dean reacted to the note of authority in her voice and lowered himself down until he was sitting on the top step. Before he could take a breath, the woman shoved him. He sucked in air and, as gravity hurtled him down the stairs, he was aware of his gear banging against the steps and his helmet sliding to the side of his head. He reached the bottom and struggled to roll over onto his good leg as she ran down the steps.
“Come!” she said urgently, helping him up and steering him down a back corridor quickly. “We’re almost out of time.”
“Out of time for what?”
She didn’t answer, and he was in too much pain to repeat the question. They emerged into the large kitchen. More bodies were on the ground, all Masha’al’s men, and she moved past them without batting an eyelid.
“Open the back door,” she instructed, “and hold on to it.”
Dean did as she said, leaning his weight against the sturdy wooden door while he watched her bend down and pull something from under the counter. She pushed it towards him, and he stared at the handcart in confusion.
“What—”
“Get on and hold on,” she commanded, moving to help him again. “Hurry!”
Dean lowered himself onto the cart and looked up at her behind him.
“What are you doing?” he demanded. “Who are you?”
The woman’s dark eyes met his and she gripped the handle of the cart, steering him out of the back door.
“I told you,” she replied. “I’m a friend.”
With those words, she shoved the cart with all her might, grunting with the exertion. Dean let out a startled exclamation as the hand cart flew away from the building. The house sat on a slight incline and, as the cart started down the rise, it picked up speed until it felt like he was flying. Except, he realized with a shock, he was flying! The cart had gotten mired down in some boggy mud, but the momentum of the short ride continued, throwing Dean forward through the air.
He twisted so that he’d land on his good leg, looking back at the house as he did so. The back door was still open and he could see the silhouette of the woman standing inside, watching him. Then, as he watched, something flashed around her with blinding intensity.
He hit the ground, landing in a puddle of mud and water as the house shuddered, and a deafening sound rent the air. Struggling onto his elbow, Dean stared in shock as multiple explosions rocked through the large structure, tearing it apart from all directions. Flames shot into the air as stone, rock and wood rocketed through the night. He was still gaping, transfixed by the sight, when a piece of flaming debris streaked towards him.
The last thing Dean saw was flames against a black sky and, as his eyes closed and darkness overtook him, he remembered the silhouette of the woman without a name who had just saved his life.
