Hide and Seek (34 page)

“I’m gonna check the doors, Boss,” Pete said. “It won’t do to be locked in the back should something go down. We need to rig something up so we can open the back without someone having to let us out.”

“Good idea. Make it quick. I got the uncomfortable feeling company is coming.”

Three minutes later, Nagano was behind the wheel, Amelia and Jildiz were in the sleeper cab, J. J. sat in the front passenger seat, and the team was in the trailer.

“You sure you can drive this?” J. J. let suspicion hang in his voice.

“We’ll know in a minute.”

“Does that mean you’ve never driven a rig like this?” The pit of J. J.’s stomach spiraled down. “I thought you said you could drive this.”

“To be accurate, Boss, I said I’d give it a shot. No one else was speaking up so I took the truck by the horns.” He examined the stick shift. “Five forward gears; one reverse. Split transmission giving us high/low ratios, so . . . ten forward speeds. How hard can it be?”

“How do you know that stuff?”

“I was a gear-head in high school. I rebuilt cars as a hobby. Got a ’64 and a half Mustang.” Nagano found first gear and slowly released the clutch. The beast jolted forward.

“Smooth,” Amelia said.

“Thanks, ma’am.”

“I was being sarcastic, soldier.”

“Yes, ma’am, so was I.” He found the next gear without trouble. “Wow, she may be old but she’s easy.”

“You had better be talking about the truck,” Amelia said.

The comment made J. J. smile. “How’s our friend?”

“I’m still here,” a weak Jildiz said.

“Where to, Boss?” Nagano asked.

“First, let’s get away from the group that torched our vans. Go around the block and head south. Put a few miles between us then we’ll start for our next destination. I see three possibilities: a hospital for Jildiz, the government center, or back to base.” He thought for a moment.

“The hospital is likely to be packed with wounded protesters,” Amelia said. “And the only hospital large enough to provide the care and protection she needs is in the direction of the fires and protests, assuming the protests are like the last set.”

“Good point.” J. J. scratched his chin. He and Nagano removed their balaclavas. Two men in ski masks driving through town might garner more attention than they wanted. “Let’s drive toward Manas. Stay on the outskirts of town. When we’re in radio range, we’ll make contact.”

“You don’t have an Iridium satellite phone?” Amelia seemed stunned.

“We had CONNIE but someone helped themselves to it.”

“CONNIE?”

He explained about the satellite communications device. “We left it in one of our vehicles when we made entrance into the pharmacy. We went in hot so we left some things behind. Fortunately, we didn’t lose Hawkeye’s gear or we might never have found you.”

“So you’ve been working without contact with Manas?”

“We often work with limited radio contact. It’s part of what we do. We also have cell phones but you already know how useful those are right now.”

“The embassy,” Amelia said. A moment later, “Sorry, I’m just thinking out loud. The embassy is close, south of the violence, and they will be able to make radio or satellite contact with Manas. They also have a local doctor on call. We can hole up there. It’s closer than the air base.”

“I like it, Boss.” Nagano found third gear on the fourth try.

“Me too. You can be our GPS, Captain.”

“That I can do—”

The streetlights went out and a fresh darkness like a black blanket fell over the city.

NASIRDIN ROUNDED THE CORNER
in time to see the semi drive slowly down the street, moving north, then turn right at the next street. Rasul raised his handgun, drawing a bead on the retreating big rig.

“No,” Nasirdin ordered. “Not yet. Follow me.” He ran down the street parallel to the path the truck took. He dallied enough to see the driver drag the rear tires of the trailer over the corner curb. Clearly a novice was at the wheel, and that was good news. Nasirdin raised his radio to his mouth. He finished his transmission then received one of his own. One he didn’t want to hear.

He slowed, then stopped.

“What? Why are we stopping?”

“We’re needed elsewhere.” Nasirdin muttered.

“HEY, WEPS. I HAVE
an idea. Try and keep all the wheels on the road and off the sidewalk.”

“That would make this kinda boring, wouldn’t it?”

J. J. glanced at the man. “Whatcha got against boring? Sounds good to me right about now. Besides, you hit another curb and the guys in back are going to come after us, and when they do, I’m going to be pointing at you.”

“I’m not afraid of them.”

“What about Joker?”

Nagano pushed out a lip. “Okay, he scares me a little, but the captain will protect me.”

“You’re on your own,” Amelia said. “I’ll be pointing at you too.”

“As always, an innovative man stands alone. . . . Um, Boss, we got troubles.” Nagano slowed and nodded forward.

The truck’s headlights painted the black street and a row of armed men blocking the intersection. J. J. recognized several as men in the mob that torched their vehicles.

“Get down, Cap,” J. J. said. He activated his radio. “Down in back. Prepare for firefight.”

The calm voice of Aliki: “Roger that.” A moment later, “What we got, Boss?”

“A line of hostiles in the intersection. Handguns and automatics. I make out about fifteen.”

“We got ’em behind us too, Boss,” Nagano said. “Maybe ten more. Not good.”

Their luck had just run out. They had no stealth; no element of surprise. They were outnumbered three to one. It was an O.K. Corral situation where men stood a few yards from each other and started pulling the trigger, except Wyatt Earp wasn’t looking down the barrels of automatic rifles.

“Boss, you got any orders?”

A second passed.

“Boss?”

J. J. took a deep breath and his mind savored three seconds thinking of his wife and unborn children. What a lousy time to die. He opened his door, propped it in position with his foot, and aimed the barrel of his M4 down the street. “Floor it.”

“Floor it? Really?”

“You got a better idea?”

“Now that you put it that way . . . Flooring it, Boss.”

J. J. spoke into his microphone. “Brace yourself, we’re running the line.”

The truck lurched forward. Then it lurched again. J. J. kept his eyes trained on the line of men determined not to fire until someone raised a weapon. Whoever did that would be the first to fall. Nagano scooted as low as he could in the seat. J. J. didn’t know if the man could see the road, but the truck ran straight.

Another lurch. The engine groaned, complaining about the low gear. Somehow, Nagano managed a smooth shift.

A man with an embarrassingly thin beard brought up his weapon and leveled it in their direction, then twisted and fell as a burst of bullets from J. J.’s M4 ripped him in the chest. J. J. was through waiting, he sent spurts of hot rounds across the line. There was a word for men who stood shoulder to shoulder in a gunfight: targets. J. J. swung the weapon in an arch. Men went to the ground: wounded or just diving for cover, he didn’t know and didn’t have time to care.

The windshield shattered, sending spiderweb cracks along its length. The side mirror on Nagano’s door exploded into shards, smacking the raised window.

The thundering sound of familiar weapons rolled forward from the trailer. The doors had been loosely tied in place so the men could open them if need arose—and it had.

Nagano hunkered in the seat. Leaving one hand on the wheel, he drew his M9 pistol and fired through the windshield, opening a small hole that helped him see and aim. He emptied all fifteen rounds in moments.

The truck continued forward, the sound of bullets striking its metal skin hitting J. J.’s ears like needles. J. J. pulled his weapon back. “Reloading.”

More gunfire from within the cab. Not J. J. and not Nagano. Amelia had slipped from the sleeper cab with the 9mm she had been carrying since removing it from one of the attackers in the pharmacy.

She crouched between the seats, sending round after round through what was left of the windscreen, firing systematically, each shot spaced by a second of time. Brass casings flew through the cab and bounced around.

“I said get down!” J. J. snapped.

“Shut up, Sergeant. I’m busy.” Her gun clicked dry. Without hesitation she snatched Nagano’s M9 while he reached for a fresh clip. She took it and jammed it in place.

Smoke stung J. J.’s eyes; his ears hurt and he was certain they were bleeding. He leaned out the door and let loose another series of bursts.

Yep, a lousy place to die. A lousy time to die.

ALIKI LAY ON HIS
belly, his weapon pointed out the back of the trailer. There were ten hostiles and he saw at least three fall within a second of the team opening fire. Next to him was Jose, working his weapon like he came into this world with it. Kneeling behind, Crispin tapped his trigger again and again, and Pete did the same.

Brass casings rolled in the trailer. Noise of gunfire in a closed space threatened to melt Aliki’s brain, and he was half-deaf.

It took only moments to send those attackers still living scampering for cover.

The truck bounced and a crushed body appeared then rolled from beneath the truck. Aliki assumed they were running over the dead or those too wounded to get out of the way.

More gunfire came as they burst through what had been a line of men. Again, Aliki and the others sent a fusillade of bullets into anyone stupid enough to still be in the fight.

The truck made a sharp right, and centrifugal force sent the team sliding to the left. A moment later, Aliki could see nothing but a dark street.

“Joker, report.” The voice from his earpiece sounded a mile away.

“Hold one, Boss.” Aliki pushed to his knees. He looked at Pete who gave a thumbs-up. Crispin just nodded. Jose said, “I’m . . . I’m good.” At least, that’s what Aliki thought the man was saying. The ringing in his ears was joined by the buzzing of a hundred beehives.

“We’re all good, Boss. Hawkeye wants to do it again.”

J. J. LOOKED AT
Amelia. “You know you frighten my men, don’t you, ma’am?”