30 Pieces of Silver (8 page)

Obviously these men were well versed in American tactics. From their assault formation, to the Flashbangs they used, these professionals were running an offensive right out of a West Point playbook.

Luckily Brandt wasn’t even close to following rules. While the three men were distracted searching above them for more girders, it was his soldiers they should have been worried about. Lopez gunned the decrepit plane’s engine while Svengurd shoved the spinning propellers to the left, mowing down the assailants. Not one of them got off a shot before body parts splattered across the hangar.

Not bad. Within ten seconds they had evened the odds.

Now
it was time to fight.

* * *

Rebecca held Brandt’s hand as tightly as the anaconda had squeezed her. Crouched, the sergeant guided them through the hangar, but she didn’t know where. Still seeing bright shining stars before her eyes, she had to trust in Brandt. Where he led, she followed.

The faint echo of gunfire made it through the earplugs. It sounded almost surreal, as if it was happening in another hangar. Another world.

As the sergeant pulled to a halt, Rebecca recognized where they were. Back to the tangle of second-floor wreckage. Brandt spoke, but she couldn’t hear him. He pulled out her earplugs.

“
Dig in here,” Brandt whispered as he turned to leave.

“
Here?” she hissed.

The sergeant checked around him before answering. “They won’t hit us with an RPG with their men inside. Now go.”

Rebecca wanted to argue, mainly just to keep Brandt’s gun nearby, but the scrap of metal captured the sergeant’s attention, and he slipped off before she could protest. Tucking her laptop under her arm, gunfire sounded all around, driving Rebecca deeper into the tangle of steel.

Before, she’d wanted better cover, but now that she had her wish, Rebecca wanted nothing more than to know what was going on. She might have to stay hidden, but that didn’t mean she had to stay ignorant.

She opened her laptop to find the screen blank. Rebecca yanked a rubber band from her braid and tied it around her phone. The screen sparked to life again. The two men Brandt had killed were on the floor, their body heat rapidly dissipating in the northeast corner, but all around the plane were warm spots. Bodies. Or more likely, parts of bodies.

Rebecca was glad Brandt hadn’t shared that part of his plan.

Inside the hangar, there were seven figures. As hard as she stared at the dots, the doctor couldn’t tell friend from foe. The only one still unaccounted for was Davidson. Rebecca hugged herself as gunfire rattled off the hangar’s metal walls. The fight had turned from a cat-and-mouse game into full-out Rambo action. Brandt’s actions had narrowed the margin considerably, but they were still outnumbered.

Movement on the screen caught her eye. Someone approached. Breath caught in her throat. The dot moved too slowly, too apprehensively, to be one of her team. They knew where she was. Besides, the bulk of the fight had flowed to the other side of the hangar.

Cautiously, Rebecca tried to creep further under the debris, but a slab of roof blocked her path. She was at a dead end in this metal labyrinth, but the dot continued its unerring path toward her.

Crap, did they have handheld scanners? Could he sense her heat? Hone in on her location? The only exit was past the gunman. Should she cry out to attract Brandt’s attention? But she remembered Davidson’s actions earlier. Never give away your position. So there she sat, staring at the dim screen, watching her attacker come, step-by-step, closer to discovering her.

* * *

A bullet ripped through Brandt’s sleeve, drawing a line of fire across his bicep. Returning fire, he fell behind the oil barrels and rolled. The fucker had snuck up behind him. Glancing to the wound, Brandt reloaded as gunfire peppered the canisters. Several rounds made it through, leaking oil onto the floor. This cover was never meant to stand up to heavy fire.

After the first five men were taken out, Brandt had run out of tricks. His team was just going to have grunt out this fight.

Off to the left, Lopez fended off two men. Brandt didn’t have to see him to know who was shooting. The Latino could fire off more rounds per second than the gun manufacturer would believe possible. On the other hand, Svengurd’s clicked off very controlled bursts. Brandt and Corporal Precision were gunning for the same creep.

In the heat of battle, he had lost track of the fourth gunman. Which could prove to be deadly.

Brandt had heard nothing from Davidson, but he refused to believe the kid had gone down. The private was just doing his job. Practicing patience. Waiting for his shot. Waiting for the right moment to reveal his position. Hopefully, Davidson wouldn’t wait much longer.

But what about Monroe? Not a peep from the doctor. Had she stayed put? Had he even made the right decision to park her in the wreckage? At the time, it had felt like the only logical solution. He could fight so much more effectively without having to worry about protecting her, but now…

She was out there alone. Weaponless. Scared.

Pushing back the image of her smoke-smudged face, Brandt fired over the barrels, keeping his assailant on his toes. Worrying wasn’t his style, and patience certainly wasn’t his virtue. Maintaining the status quo didn’t appeal to him either. Given enough time, the enemy would leverage their superior equipment into a victory, knocking his team off one by one.

Clearly the bastards had advanced mobile detection equipment, while they, well, they were blind.

He was going to have to change that.

* * *

Rebecca’s stare bordered on morbid fascination as the dot closed in. The doctor knew it was silly to hold her breath, but she just couldn’t exhale. Then the man stopped. Rebecca blinked and blinked again, but he held his ground. Why had he halted? She checked the other dots. They were still over on the other side of the hangar.

Wiping the dust that rained down from the wreckage off the screen, Rebecca wanted to make sure there wasn’t a glitch. But sure enough, the dot stayed put. Had he lost his infrared feed? Why else would he stop before taking out a sitting duck like her?

Swiping away paint chips, Rebecca stifled a sneeze. Now would not be the time for a hay fever attack. Then a pebble hit her head. What the hell? With great effort, she took her eyes off the screen and glanced upward, but she found only the metal maze above her head. It both sheltered and trapped her.

Glancing back at the screen, she found the dot had moved a single step forward and then stopped. Could he be getting instructions from his superiors? She had so little experience with such things.

Rebecca stifled a squeak as something quite a bit larger than a pebble hit her head. This time she stared above her. Was the ceiling collapsing? It would be about the right time for something else disastrous to happen.

Squinting, she could make out an object far above her, nestled in the rafters. She looked back at the screen. Only the goon outside to worry about. And he hadn’t moved a single inch. Getting braver, Rebecca stared above her. Was there movement?

Then the most wonderful thing happened. A smile shone from the darkness. Now that she had a landmark, Rebecca could make out a man, well camouflaged, hiding high up in the rafters.

Rank: Private. Name: Davidson.

Rebecca had no idea how he had hidden himself from the infrared, but nevertheless a guardian angel watched over her through the lattice-like metal. She started to reposition herself, but the private ever so slightly shook his head.

Stay put. She got it.

Looking down at the screen, she realized her stalker had also gotten braver and was about to enter the wreckage. The doctor looked up in panic. Did Davidson have a clear shot?

In answer to her unspoken question, she heard a sound not even as loud as a soda pop can opening, and then the dot slumped backward.

The kid was that good.

She looked up as Davidson repositioned himself to fire into the southern portion of the hangar, but one of the enemy must have seen the private’s muzzle flash, because the gunfire shifted toward the rafters.

Davidson could maneuver only so much on the narrow girders. He didn’t cry out when he took a round to the stomach, but she did. Even hit, the private grabbed hold of a pulley chain and might have swung to safety if his injured shoulder hadn’t given out.

“
No!” she screamed as Davidson tumbled through the open air until he caught the chain with his bad arm.

Rebecca slung her laptop over her shoulder as the private dangled precariously from the rafters. The only thing preventing a deadly plunge was his dislocated arm. Brandt and his men must have realized the danger as the gunfire quadrupled. They might be able to keep the shooters from picking Davidson off, but the private couldn’t hold on much longer.

Without hesitation, Rebecca began climbing the metal lattice like a huge jungle gym. Sure she could pretend she was suddenly brave and all about the heroics, but in truth she simply didn’t want to live with the guilt if Davidson fell. She had enough of that emotion to last a lifetime.

What if she had dived into the river after Yerato? What if she had followed the river another quarter mile? Could she have saved him? She would never know. Rebecca wanted no such questions about Davidson.

Free of the tangled metal, she stood atop the wreckage. “Hang on.”

The only response was a thin, pained whisper, “Don’t.”

Ignoring the private, Rebecca grabbed hold of the chain. She noticed that her hands were no longer shaking. She might not be able to hold her own with guns, but this,
this
she could do. As it turned out, climbing the metal was even easier than the jungle vines. No thorns.

Hand over hand, she made her way up the chain, every second expecting Davidson to plummet past her, but somehow the kid hung on. However, unable to brace against his bad shoulder, the private flailed, trying to catch hold of the chain with his good hand, which only made it harder for her to climb.

“
Hold still,” she hissed, but didn’t know if he could hear her over the barrage of gunfire. Brandt was definitely holding down his end of the job, keeping the enemy occupied, as Rebecca reached Davidson’s feet. Now she could see his pained features.

“
Brace off my shoulders,” Rebecca said, as a bullet flew past her ear. They were dangling midair above a full-scale firefight, but the soldier still thrashed. “Damn it, boots on my shoulders!”

This time the private obeyed, and after a toe to her jaw, Davidson balanced long enough on her shoulders to grab the chain. Breaths of relief escaped both their lips. “I’m climbing over you, but don’t get any ideas.”

The military tone returned. “I can get up on my own.”

As the air took on the smell of gunpowder, Rebecca didn’t have time to argue. She simply grabbed the chain between his legs. Instinctively, Davidson tried to stabilize himself, but the pain caused his arm to drop limply. He wasn’t going anywhere on his own. Rebecca pulled up face to face with him as the chain spun them gently.

“
What did I say about getting ideas?” She put a hand above his head.

Davidson wouldn’t look at her, let alone answer. Rebecca made sure to brace against his good shoulder as she climbed over. After that, it was a quick ascent to the catwalk. Dark and gloomy, the bright muzzle flashes of the gunfire far down below almost looked pretty.

Grabbing the chain, Rebecca pulled up as hard as she could, but only gained a few inches. For such a skinny kid, Davidson was dead weight. The private tried to climb but made excruciatingly slow progress as the fight shifted in their direction. She might be hidden in the murky heights, but dangling in midair, Davidson wasn’t so lucky.

Then Rebecca found the pulley mechanism that Brandt had used. Quickly she ran the chain through the winch, and then pulled harder than she ever thought she could. Her own shoulder felt like it would pop out, but she hauled Davidson up an entire foot. Securing the slack around a girder, Rebecca heaved again. The private seemed encouraged and started making progress on his own as Brandt’s team renewed their aggressive fight.

Within seconds, they had closed the gap. She grabbed him by the vest and hauled him up onto the beam. Davidson was safe!

Then the hangar bloomed in flame.

Their nice, dark hiding place shone as bright as the day.

CHAPTER 5

Belgium Airstrip

Fuck, fuck, fuck
, Brandt thought as he emptied the last clip of his automatic rifle. His maneuver to bring them equal to their foes by raising the hangar’s temperature to a human’s, had instead made Davidson and Monroe prime targets. He didn’t have time to wonder what the hell the doctor was doing up there in the first place as he pulled out his service pistol and took aim through the thick, billowing flames.

The enemy’s focus turned to firing into the brightly lit rafters. The private had Monroe on the move, but no one could outrun automatic weapon fire for long. Even though he couldn’t see his target, Brandt squeezed off seven rounds, stopping at least one assailant from firing upward. The sergeant wasn’t arrogant enough to think he had killed him. Winged the bastard, maybe. Startled him, for sure.