Pam heard the barely audible gunfire from the east of her position in the middle of the apartment complex. It was either Volker or Woedding. She’d sent the two of them between the buildings in the direction of Rautanen’s house, while Bruns and Heiser had split off to the rear of the second row of buildings, hoping to catch McGarvey in a flanking position.
They’d left the cars at the edge of the complex and had come the rest of the way on foot—the four operators forward while she hung back in case McGarvey tried to make an end run.
She’d set up a common number on their encrypted cell phones. She keyed it. “Report,” she said softly.
“He’s on the east side with the woman,” Volker responded. It sounded as if he was running.
“Is he down?”
“Negative, but we hit two of the blacks with him.”
“What’s your situation?”
“We’re across the parking area.”
More suppressed gunfire came from that direction, followed immediately by several unsilenced pistol shots.
“He and the broad just went inside the building. We’re taking fire.”
“Klaus, Friedrich, kommt!” Pam called.
“We’re twenty-five meters behind the building,” Bruns responded. “We’ll try to get in from the rear.”
“Good. Felix, copy?”
“Ja.”
“What about Ayesha?”
“She’s down. The woman with McGarvey shot her.”
Just as well, Pam thought. She would worry about the money later. “I want this op over with now. McGarvey’s making too much noise.”
“That’s his intention,” Volker radioed back.
* * *
McGarvey and Pete huddled just inside the doorway of the apartment building across the parking lot from where Ayesha’s body and the bodies of the two black kids who had agreed to help out were lying.
Pete was on the phone with Otto. She handed it to McGarvey.
“There’s been a fair amount of phone traffic, but they’re using a military-grade encryption algorithm, which is going to take my darlings a minute or so to figure out. But I’d guess that they’re going to try to flank you. They can’t be happy with all the noise you’re making.”
“Have the cops taken any notice?”
“Not yet. Do you want me to give them the heads-up?”
“No.”
“Goddamnit, Mac—”
“If some patrol officer shows up he’s going to get himself killed. And by the time a SWAT team is organized this’ll be a done deal. One way or the other.”
A half-dozen incoming rounds blazed through the open doorway, ricocheting around inside the entry vestibule. McGarvey reached around the corner and emptied his magazine in the general direction of the two shooters.
“Go upstairs and try to find a balcony on the first or second floor, if someone will let you in,” he said as he changed out magazines. “If not, cover me from the landing.”
“I’m not going to leave you alone.”
McGarvey grinned. “You know this isn’t going to work for us if you’re all the time arguing with me.”
“Chauvinist.”
“Just keep your ass down. I want to end this crap tonight.”
She pecked him on the cheek. “For luck,” she said. She hurried past the elevator door, which had an out-of-order sign on it, and bounded up the stairs two at a time.
The cell phone burred. It was Otto again, and he was excited.
“You’ve got two guys in front of you, and I think two more are coming up on your six.”
McGarvey looked over his shoulder at the same time someone out front opened fire, but with what he was sure was a Heckler & Koch 416 with a suppressor, one of the weapons of choice for SEAL team operators.
Rautanen.
* * *
Volker took a hit high on his right arm before he knew someone was coming up from the east; he managed to roll left out of the line of fire. Automatic weapons fire from a silenced light submachine gun kicked up dirt and bits of pavement all around him, while at the same time McGarvey or the broad fired a half-dozen pistol shots from just inside the building across the parking lot, two rounds whizzing past his head so close he could feel the shock waves.
“Bastard,” Heiser said, crouching beside him. He fired a sustained burst from his MAC 10, walking the rounds out and up, at least three finally catching the ex-SEAL in the leg, lower torso, and upper chest.
Rautanen went down heavily and lay still. It was impossible for Volker to tell from this distance if the guy was dead or not, but he was down, which for the moment was all that mattered.
“You okay?” Heiser asked.
“Nothing serious,” Volker said. Awkwardly he keyed his cell phone. “Klaus, wo ist?”
“Ready to go in. Give us distracting fire.”
“On three,” Volker said. “They’re going in,” he told Heiser. He waited two counts, then got up on a knee and began firing measured bursts at the open doorway. Heiser followed suit.
Pam was on the phone, but he ignored her call—the time for bullshit orders was over.
* * *
McGarvey hunched around the corner, his back against the wall, as the incoming rounds bounced all over the place. It was covering fire for whoever was coming down the hallway from the rear door.
A figure loomed large in the darkness and McGarvey emptied his magazine down the narrow corridor. He changed out the magazine, recharged his weapon, and was about to fire, when a round slammed into his side just above his hip. He felt an incredible burst of pain.
Pete suddenly appeared, firing her pistol around the corner from the elevator door. One of the Germans grunted, but kept firing.
McGarvey’s phone vibrated again at the same moment the firing from the front of the building intensified a half-dozen times over. There were more than four of them, he thought, his head buzzing.
He emptied his last magazine down the corridor, as Pete changed out her last one.
Someone in dark night-fighter camos appeared in the doorway, an H & K at ready arms. For just an instant he thought it was Rautanen, but he was sure that the SEAL was down.
“Pete, get down,” he shouted, at the same time as he threw his pistol at the man’s face. As he began to lose consciousness he got the strangest impression that the guy in the doorway was Dick Cole, with two other similarly dressed figures right behind him.
Pete was there over him as he slipped away, his only regret at that moment was the fact that he had only one kidney and he was sure that the round he’d taken was right there. And being on dialysis for the rest of his life was never what he had in mind.