“I’ll get the driver. You get the device,” Amira said as she scrambled out of the Mercedes. She was two steps away from the SUV before John had cleared his door. Let’s see if he can keep up, she thought, a wry smile forming on her strikingly beautiful face, blue eyes glinting.
“On it!” he shouted as he dashed across the bridge.
Amira reached the passenger side of the precariously positioned truck, leaving John to find the ONERING. The rear bumper was already elevated to her waist, and she heard the metal frame grinding on the edge of the bridge. We don’t have long.
She inched alongside the vehicle, careful to avoid making any sound as she stepped over the gnarled remains of the first railing the truck had destroyed. The passenger side-view mirror was visible, but due to the elevated angle, its reflection was impossible to see. She knew she was likely creeping into a trap, but she was focused, ready for whatever surprises the driver had in store for her.
Bang!
Amira flinched slightly at the noise before realizing that it was John opening the rear of the cargo truck. Don’t be so jumpy.
She reached the passenger door and waited below the open window. More sounds emanated from the truck’s bed, but still nothing from the cab. Maybe he’s dead, she thought. Or more likely, he’s aiming a gun and waiting for you to show your face so he can blow it off.
She couldn’t approach from the driver’s side because all he had to do to was lean out and open fire. She’d be a sitting duck. The roof was out of the question because her approach would make too much noise. No. It had to be this way. Hopefully, if the driver were still conscious, he would be distracted by the sounds of John’s searching. If not, she’d find out soon enough.
She planted one black boot on the large runner under the door and grabbed the handle with her left hand as she withdrew a compact SIG SAUER 9mm pistol she carried for close-quarters situations. She’d left the Steyr tactical machine pistol in the SUV. She was as lethal with a pistol as she was with her stilettos. Her professional pride and proficiency demanded expertise with all the tools of her unique trade.
It’s now or never, she thought, and leaned up to catch a glimpse inside the cab from the mirror.
Blood poured down the face of the man who leaned against the door, a middle-aged Chinese operative who had the look of an experienced veteran. A black pistol was aimed in her direction. Their eyes met, and he opened fire.
BAM! BAM! BAM!
The noise of the shots was magnified by the cab’s confines. The bullets struck the metal frame next to the window, sending vibrations shuddering up Amira’s arm as she quickly ducked down.
No way to get a clean shot without getting your head blown off. Her subconscious then added, I don’t think John would like that.
A sudden grinding screech rang out from beneath the vehicle, and the cab lurched forward. Amira leapt onto the runner as the middle of the cab passed through the second railing and into the open night air.
Realizing this might be her only opportunity, she stood and exposed herself as she took aim with the SIG SAUER. She’d guessed correctly—the vehicle’s sudden movement had panicked the driver, distracting him from the threat of her attack. He was struggling to free himself from the shoulder seat belt that held him in its grip.
As his momentary panic subsided, Yin Liu looked up at the deadly assassin, her upper body framed in the window like an avenging angel suspended in the air. His pistol lay on the seat next to him, ignored as he struggled with the seat belt. He realized he didn’t have a chance to defend himself. He still wanted to live. He did the only thing he could—raised his hands in surrender.
Amira didn’t react, the pistol trained on his head never wavering.
“What now?” the man asked in English.
She contemplated a moment before responding. “Toss me your cell phone,” she said. “The one on the dashboard.”
She didn’t ask for my pistol? Maybe I still have a chance, Liu thought. He slowly reached forward and extended his arm to where the glass met the PVC surface of the dashboard. He grabbed the phone and carefully threw it to her. It landed short of her outstretched hand and fell to the passenger seat, sliding forward due to the angle of the cab. It stopped at the edge of the bench seat.
Amira’s gaze was steady, and she didn’t avert her eyes from his. She carefully switched the pistol to her left hand and leaned further into the cab, her right arm feeling for the phone on the seat. Her hand explored the leather until it touched the cell’s hard shell.
The truck tilted forward yet again, and Amira felt the cell phone slide off the edge. Damnit!
Taking her eyes off the driver for a split second, she shot her hand out and grabbed the phone as it fell off the seat. But that moment was all he needed.
Yin Liu knew the unexpected movement had this time given him an advantage, as it had given his deadly female attacker the tactical edge a few moments earlier. His hand grasped for the pistol, and once he’d secured it, he raised his eyes to his target as he lifted his arm.
The woman was smiling at him, her lips an all-knowing line that turned up only slightly at the ends, accentuating her beautiful features. She expected it. She’s good, better than me, he thought right before his world went black.
BAM!
The round struck him in the head above his right eye, sending a spray of blood against the headrest. As the seat belt released, his body slumped forward and slid off the seat, coming to rest as a mere pile of flesh and bone under the steering column.
Tough luck, Amira thought, and holstered her pistol on her right hip. She’d expected him to try something. I almost would’ve been disappointed if he hadn’t.
“John!” Amira screamed. She scrambled along the running board toward the rear of the truck, now elevated even higher. “Do you have it? The driver’s dead, and we need to get the hell off this thing before we go for a swim.”
She reached the surface of the bridge, dropped down, and ran to the back of the vehicle. Staring down at her from the end of the truck several feet above was John Quick, a confident, mischievous grin on his grizzled face. He was holding a black Pelican case the size of a footlocker.
“What took you so long?” he said playfully. “You want to give me a hand with this thing, please?”
“While you were finding the Ark of the Covenant, I was obtaining the driver’s cell phone for future intelligence value,” she said, smiling back at him before holding up the black phone she’d retrieved.
“Well, unless you’re going to phone a friend to help me, can you put it away so I can slide this down to you? Like you said, I don’t need to go back in the Nile. I’ve already been swimming once tonight.”
“Quit complaining and give me the case,” Amira said, and secured the phone in a pocket on her vest.
John didn’t respond but slid the heavy case over the edge of the truck.
Amira grabbed it at shoulder height and secured it against her torso as John released it. She stepped backward and carefully squatted to the ground, setting the case on the pavement.
“That wasn’t so—” was all John had time to say before there was a loud crash as the rear chassis broke in half and the tangled railing released its hold on the cargo truck.
The vehicle suddenly slid forward and John launched himself off the back of the truck, sailing through the air. With nothing to break his fall, he landed with a loud smack on the pavement, the wind knocked out of his lungs. Seconds later, a loud splash signaled the final fate of the truck and its dead occupant.
He gasped for breath and rolled over, only to see the beautiful figure of Amira Cerone standing over him, staring down with a look of bemusement.
“You going to lounge around all night? Or can we please get this highly dangerous piece of equipment in our SUV and get the hell off this bridge before God-knows-what authorities get here?” She bent over and offered her hand. “Come on. Get up.” She helped pull him up as his lungs struggled to refill their oxygen supply.
“Thanks,” he muttered in between short breaths.
She picked up one end of the case by its hard-plastic handle as he hoisted up the other. As they slowly walked the cargo toward the back of the SUV, Amira said, “Nice jump, by the way.”
“Thanks, although I usually try to do a flip with my dismounts,” he said, grinning at her, his composure regained.
“Uh-huh. Maybe you can practice some more when we get back to the embassy,” Amira said as they lifted the case into the SUV and John closed the hatch. “But first, radio the rest of the team and find out where they are. Tell them we’re on our way with the package. We’ll meet them at the embassy. We also need to call the station chief and let him know what happened. He’s going to have to call DC with an update.”
As John slid into the driver’s seat, he turned to her and said, “Anything else you’d like me to do while I’m at it?”
“I can probably think of something,” Amira said slyly, meeting his eyes.
His heart raced at the words. You’re so screwed, John.