Dead Six (69 page)

“Roger. Moving.” I looked over at Reaper. “You ready?” He looked back at me, eyes wide but full of surprising determination. He nodded. “Alright, then. Follow me.”

Hawk popped back up, firing, trying to keep the bad guy’s heads down as Reaper and I moved. We snaked our way down the ravine, trying to stay out of sight. I could barely hear the occasional snap of a rifle bullet coming from Bob’s position, always followed by sporadic, sometimes automatic, weapons fire in response. They didn’t know where he was, and he was picking them off one by one.

We made it to the rocks at the bottom of the hill. We had to crawl from the end of the ravine, little more than a shallow gulley at this point, to the rocks. Reaper followed close, breathing hard and sweating heavily in his black trench coat. I crawled to the far left edge of the rocks, still in the prone. I was very close to the cinder-block building, and there was only one door on the side that was facing me. I also now had a clear view of the men taking cover behind the SUV, busily shooting at Hawk’s position.

I snapped off a shot, and one of the men fell. The other surprised me by how quickly he reacted and returned fire. I pushed myself back behind the rocks while he popped shot after shot off at us. He suddenly shifted his fire back toward Bob’s position after a near-miss from my sniper overwatch. I rolled out from the side of the boulder and fired twice. “He’s down,” I said into my radio.

I was about to make a dash for the door when one of Gordon’s men came around the corner of the building to my left. He fired a burst at me. The bullets impacted the rocks, sending dust and debris flying. I let myself fall to the ground and scrambled behind cover. A second burst narrowly missed me, and a third one peppered the rocks I was now hiding behind.

I moved to my right and came up firing. My rounds hit the ground and the wall near the government guy just as he disappeared back around the corner. I held my fire but kept my sights on where he was. He’d either come back out or circle back around the building. Hawk was covering my right flank, so I wasn’t worried about that. Sure enough, he did a quick peek, broadcasting to me where he was. As soon as he stepped around the corner, I opened up on him. At least three of my rounds tore through him.

I ducked back behind the boulder. “How are you doing?” I asked Reaper as I removed the nearly spent magazine from my rifle. He just nodded at me as I pulled another one from my vest and locked it into position. “Okay,” I said, “head for the door.”

I dashed from behind the rocks with Reaper right behind me, running so fast that we smacked into the wall. I pointed down the wall of the building, indicating to Reaper that he needed to watch that corner. Reaching down, I tried the handle. The old door wasn’t locked, but it was stuck.

Subtlety was never my strong point. I nodded at Reaper and kicked the door in.

LORENZO

I threw open the door, taking in the scene in an instant. There was Eduard Montalban standing in the filthy abandoned garage. Next to him was the hulking Fat Man, who looked like Moby Dick in his white suit. Eddie was wearing a silk shirt, Flock of Seagulls hair combed high, little yippy white poodle-dog under one arm, the smirk on his face turning to disbelief as he saw me. Gordon and one of his men had their backs to me and were just beginning to turn as they saw Eddie’s shock. Both sides had several goons arrayed across the room, but none of them would be fast enough to stop me.

The grenade left my hand, spoon popping off in mid-flight. “Hey, Eddie,” I stated as the grenade struck the concrete floor, bounced, and spun between Gordon’s legs.

“Bloody hell!” Eddie shrieked. The poodle started barking.

Chaos.
The Fat Man was far faster than he looked. He spun about, one massive arm sweeping Eddie up, lifting his employer and shielding him as they dove away. Gordon acted in pure instinctive self-preservation, one hand coming up, grabbing the government man next to him by the necktie, and yanking hard. The man, taken by surprise, toppled over on top of the grenade as Gordon hurled himself into the old oil pit.

I ducked back around the corner.

THUMP.

I felt the pressure in my teeth. Gordon’s guard absorbed most of the blast and saved the others. The walls were sprayed like a red Jackson Pollock. Decades of dust and cobwebs were dislodged from the ceiling, obscuring everything.

Jill pulled her fingers out of her ears and actually smiled at me. I motioned for her to stay put before taking a quick peek through the doorway. The windows had all been shattered. Dust whirled. One of the goons was screaming. There was gunfire coming from outside.

Something moved in a pile of dust.
The Fat Man
. The back of his white suit coat was shredded and burned. Small spatters and trickles of blood covered his back. He pushed himself up with one arm, Eddie still held protectively beneath him. I raised my AR, taking the safety off, finger moving onto the trigger, red dot settling on the Fat Man’s back.

The wall next to me exploded in a shower of cinder fragments, and I jerked the trigger as I cringed, missing my target entirely. Something sliced hot across my cheek and I fell into the back room, bullets screaming through the doorway overhead. I scrambled to the side as the floor erupted into dust.

“Lorenzo!” Jill shouted as I rolled toward her. She raised the MP5 and fired out the doorway. A man cried out in pain.

Still prone, I leaned around the doorway and spotted a government man moving through the dust, firing his M4 at us. Jill shot again, and the man stumbled. “They’ve got vests on!” I shouted as I put the Aimpoint on him and cranked off several quick shots. Soft armor would stop her 9mm, but not my 5.56. He fell to his knees and Jill’s third shot hit him in the bridge of the nose. I scrambled farther out, searching for Eddie.

The spot where the Fat Man had fallen was empty.

“Shit!” I shouted. More shapes were appearing in the dust. I fired at anything that moved. That damn poodle was still barking. Bullets impacted our wall, digging fierce pits into the cinder-blocks, or skipped across the concrete and smashed our room into debris.

Flipping the selector to auto, I emptied the rest of my magazine into the confusion, then rolled inside, fumbling at my vest for a reload. There were a lot more bad guys than I had expected, but they were being hit from multiple directions. Jill was crouched behind me. I made eye contact and gestured violently toward the window. We had to get out of here. “I’ll cover you,” I said as I slammed the magazine home and slapped the bolt release.

“Quit shooting! Stop it!” Eddie was screeching. The random gunfire tapered off and died. “I need him
alive!
”

“Go!” I shouted to Jill, leaned out, and fired in the direction of Eddie’s voice. There was a rusted truck parked near the main door, and it sounded like he had come from behind it. I stitched a line of impacts across the truck body, the clang of hot lead on metal louder than my suppressor. Jill sprang up and pushed her way through the window. Within seconds, multiple rifles opened up on my position. I fired until she disappeared, going clear through my second magazine.

“Damn it!” Eddie shrieked. “I said quit
shooting
! Next one of you wankers shoots at him and I’ll slit your throat myself! Lorenzo!” I pulled back, reloading again. I could feel the heat rising from my rifle. “Listen to me carefully. I just want what’s mine. I don’t care about you.”

Red laser dots flashed on the far wall. Bright flashlights illuminated the doorway. If I tried to move, I was dead. Rather than fire and maneuver, I’d allowed myself to get pinned down. At least Jill had gotten out. “Bob, the hostage just went out the window. Cover her. I’m stuck,” I whispered. There was no response. I grasped my radio. The box had been smashed by a round.
Damn
.

“I’m listening, Eddie,” I shouted back. The gunfire outside continued. It sounded like the others were busy. “What’re you offering?”

“Give me the scarab, you and all your people walk, and I pay you
double
.”

“Sounds tempting,” I lied. We were dog food the second he had it. I didn’t dare stick my head around the corner, and I couldn’t try to move across the doorway. There was a large piece of broken mirrored glass on the floor. Grabbing it, I held it up and used it to peer around the corner.

“Yes, it is tempting. We both know you’re stuck, and it won’t take too many bullets to carve through that wall. My associate is setting up a belt-fed as we speak. . . .” There was a sudden burst of much louder gunfire, and the wall above me exploded into shrapnel. The sound was horrendous. The gun fired so fast it was like a buzzsaw. I covered my head and tried to make myself as small as possible as I was pelted with jagged bits. The poodle yelped. “Hush now, Precious, the bad man won’t scare you anymore,” Eddie soothed. “You’ve got ten seconds, Lorenzo.”

Moving the broken shard of glass, I scanned the garage. Multiple bright weapon-mounted lights shined back at me, and there was the Fat Man, a terrifying German MG3 machine gun on a bipod resting on the old truck hood, pointed right at me. I coughed as more dust settled onto my face. Hopefully Jill and the others would make it out of here, because I didn’t think that I would.

But at least I could take Eddie with me. “I’ve got to know. What is it? Why is it so important?” If I could keep him talking, maybe I could figure out where he hiding.

“Is Willis around?” Eddie asked. “Or any of his men?”

“No, sir. He took off running into those old buildings,” a voice behind one of the bobbing weapon lights answered.

“Well, chap, you might as well know. Gordon and I may be from rival organizations, but I’m helping him accomplish something for his employers, and in turn he’s helping me get the position I so rightfully deserve among my peers. And you are going to help keep me there. The thing you stole? It isn’t even for me. There’s a certain individual, who even I am scared of, and he’d do
anything
to get that scarab. Now quit stalling. Time’s up, Lorenzo. Where . . . is . . .
my
. . .
property
?”

The scarab was sitting in a Velcro pouch on my armor. I held the AR tight and did one last pass with my makeshift mirror: three lighted weapons trained on my position, and a belt-fed machine gun. It was Butch and Sundance time.

Then there was another reflection shifting in the glass, the flash of a pink waitress dress creeping up behind the Fat Man.

Oh, please no.

No time to think. I sprang up, muzzle rising as I heard the
brraaappp
noise of the little MP5 in Jill’s hands on full-auto. The Fat Man jerked as her bullets stitched up his side. The MG3 fired wildly past me, tearing a gash of dust and pulverized cinder block up the wall. My Aimpoint settled on the first weapon mounted light and I fired twice, shifting immediately to the next light and firing again.

I was blinded by the scalding beams, burning bullets zipping around me, through my clothing, feeling them parting my hair, buzzing past like angry bees. There was the third light, dancing with muzzle flashes, and I pulled the trigger twice more. Jill was shouting as she fired.

One of the lights was weaving, a shadow appearing behind it. My gun moved back toward him, but I tripped on some debris, sprawling forward, jerking the trigger as I went, supersonic lead filling the empty air where I’d just been. The other light swung upward, briefly illuminating the bloody ceiling as the man holding it went down. The Fat Man grunted under the impacts as Jill shot him again, and finally he and the heavy machine gun disappeared behind the truck.

There was only one weapon light shining now, swinging wildly toward Jill. We fired at the same time. The bulb shattered.

The room went dark

I gasped for breath as the filthy dust stirred. My good ear was ringing from the gunfire, but above that I could hear a man crying and the sounds of someone breathing froth through a torn-open chest.

This time the flashlight piercing the darkness was mounted to
my
gun. “Jill!” I shouted. I only activated the light for a split second to find my way, then it was back out to avoid being a target and I was moving to the truck and the last place I’d seen her.

“Lorenzo!” she hissed at me. “Over here.”

I found her in the dark, kneeling behind some rusted junk. The empty MP5 had been tossed, and she had a pistol in her hands. She flinched as my hand touched her shoulder, but at least she didn’t shoot me.

“Are you okay?” I whispered, crouching beside her. I didn’t know who was still alive in the garage.

“I’m okay.” She gestured at the Fat Man, his massive, sprawled, white-clad form standing out in the dark. “But he’s not. Shot him like ten times.”

I didn’t know why, but I hugged her then, held her tight, my face pressed into her soft neck, her dark, blood matted hair pressed against my cheek. That lasted for a few seconds as there was more high-powered rifle fire nearby, several back and forth volleys. The others were still fighting.

Back to business . . .

“Did you see which way Eddie went?”

“The one that looked like he came from an episode of
I Love the Eighties
, with the poodle?” I nodded, somehow in the dark she could tell. She pointed out the large front door. “He headed for those old buildings.”

I couldn’t let him get away. I stood, dropped my partially expended magazine, and drew a new one from my vest. “Head for the hills to the west. I have a friend out there. He’ll get you out of here.”

“I’m coming with you,” she answered defiantly.

“This isn’t a democracy. You’re—” Something stirred behind me, gliding into the garage, a shape with a weapon. I turned, pulling the rifle to my shoulder. The man was in my sights, but I knew I was too late.

We both froze. Guns raised, death only a tiny bit of pressure on a trigger away.

“Valentine,” I acknowledged, relieved, and lowered my carbine.

Valentine’s FAL hovered on me for just a fraction of a second.
That son of a bitch,
I thought.
He’s actually thinking it over.
I glared at him for an instant, daring him to pull the trigger. His expression changed almost imperceptibly and he lowered his weapon. “Is Jill okay?”