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Authors: David Hagberg

Tags: #Thrillers, #Fiction, #Suspense, #Espionage, #Crime

The Expediter (41 page)

BOOK: The Expediter
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SEVENTY–NINE

 

In the study, McGarvey was perched on the edge of the desk, McCann staring at him with extreme contempt, a thin line of spittle at the corner of his mouth.

“You and Rencke, that freak friend of yours, can’t prove a thing. You won’t ever come up with enough evidence to take this to a court of law, and I don’t think Dick will even have the guts to fire me.”

McGarvey shrugged. “You know what I did for a living, Howard. Maybe I don’t care if you go to jail. Maybe I’ll just shoot you right now and save us all a big headache.”

“You wouldn’t,” McCann said, his bluster beginning to fade.

“Don’t push me, Howard. I don’t like sons of bitches who sell out their country no matter the consequences. If the Chinese try to take North Korea down a lot of people will die out there. Did you consider that bit of blowback, or didn’t you give a shit?”

A range of emotions played across McCann’s round face. Suddenly he stepped aside and reached into his left coat pocket and started to withdraw a second pistol, this one a much heavier weapon.

Todd fired one shot, catching the DDO in the shoulder shoving him backward against the bookshelves.

Elizabeth appeared at the doorway. “We have company,” she said softly, glancing at McCann’s body. “It was him?”

“Yeah,” McGarvey said. “How many?”

“Four of them coming down the hill from the rear. Otto’s called for help.”

“Cut the light in the living room,” McGarvey told her, “and get back upstairs.”

She disappeared down the corridor and Todd went over to the study light and switched it off.

 

 

 

EIGHTY

 

Minoru had heard everything, including the second man besides McGarvey, the woman, obviously an American, warning that four men were coming from the back, and that a man named Otto had already called for help. He hesitated for just a moment, angry that Lavrov’s men had stupidly started their attack before the order had been given, and that more people were inside the house than just McGarvey, the Korean woman, and Daniel.

He’d taken out two of the spare magazines, and the moment the lights went out he reached around the corner and fired all fifteen rounds into the study.

Almost immediately Lavrov began firing into the house from the front, and the four Russian operators opened fire with their AKs from the rear.

Minoru ejected the spent magazine from his pistol, rammed one of the spares into the handle, charged the weapon, and unloaded another fifteen rounds as fast as he could pull them inside the study before he fell back out of the line of possible fire from inside, reloading for the second time.

Gunfire from the rear of the house was very nearly continuous, but Lavrov had stopped, realizing that shooting indiscriminately without clear targets was just wasting ammunition.

No one was returning fire from inside the house. At least three people were in the study, including Daniel and McGarvey, and Minoru was realist enough to understand that he might have taken down one or perhaps two, but not all of them. If it were McGarvey still alive inside it would explain why they were disciplined enough not to shoot at something they couldn’t see. In that case tonight’s assignment just got tougher.

“Cease fire,” Minoru spoke softly into his mike.

If anything the AK gunfire at the rear of the house intensified, and a moment later Lavrov’s voice came over Minoru’s headset.

“Cease fire, immediately. Oleg, do you copy?”

The gunfire raggedly came to an end.

“We’re going in,” Minoru said, momentarily turning away from the open French doors in case someone was just inside listening. “Standby.”

The night was silent again, and Minoru strained to listen for a sound from inside the house. Any kind of a sound. But there was nothing.

“Mr. McGarvey,” he called. “Can you hear me?”

No one answered.

“Send Huk Kim out to us, along with Daniel, the man who just arrived, and we will leave you and your friends in peace. We only came for them, no one else. You have my word.”

“Do you want me to disable the SUV?” Lavrov’s voice came into his earpiece.

“Standby.”

“Roger.”

“Your last chance, Mr. McGarvey. Send them, or their bodies, out and we will leave.”

 

 

 

EIGHTY–ONE

 

McCann had taken two more hits, one in the center of his chest and the other in the bridge of his nose. Todd bent over him and felt for a pulse. He looked up and shook his head.

The shooting had stopped for now but McGarvey figured that the cease-fire wouldn’t last much longer. They were outnumbered and outgunned. Liz had counted four at the rear of the house, armed with AKs, plus one just outside the study and at least one out front, armed with handguns. The last thing Turov’s people would expect was a counterattack.

McGarvey motioned for Todd to go upstairs, and his son-in-law straightened up and cautiously checked out the corridor, before he gave the all clear.

“You needn’t die this evening, Mr. McGarvey,” the man from just outside the French doors called softly.

Todd slipped out into the hall and silently made his way to the stairs, McGarvey, keeping an eye on the front door, right behind him.

Elizabeth, a pistol in her left hand, was waiting for them at the door to one of the back bedrooms. Blood seeped from a wound in her right arm, which she held to her chest.

“Christ, you’ve been hurt,” Todd whispered urgently and he went to her.

“I’ll be okay, sweetheart,” she said. She turned to her father. “What about McCann?”

“He’s dead,” McGarvey told her. “Where are Otto and Kim?”

“Watching the driveway from the master bedroom. He’s got an old military .45, but he’s all jazzed up and I’m afraid he’s going to have an accident and shoot himself in the foot. What do you want to do?”

“We’ll never be able to hold out long enough for help to get here, so I’m going out the bathroom window on the east side and see if I can even up the odds a little. We don’t stand a chance against those guys with the AKs in the back,” McGarvey told them.

“I’m going with you,” Todd said.

“Stay here, because the other two will be coming up the stairs.”

“We can handle them up here by ourselves if we don’t have to watch our backs,” Liz said. She was fiercely determined, and McGarvey was proud of her and frightened for her at the same time. But she was a highly trained Company field officer, and she knew what she was doing.

He pulled out McCann’s PSM pistol. “Give this to Otto and let Kim have the .45, she’s a better shot.”

“Do you trust her?” Liz asked, taking the small gun.

“We don’t have any choice—”

Just then the firing started again from the back of the house, the heavy Kalashnikov rounds smashing windows and easily penetrating the walls.

They all ducked down, plaster and wood chips flying all over the place.

“Watch yourself, sweetheart,” McGarvey said, and he and Todd raced to the large bathroom at the end of the corridor, unlocked the broad window above the Jacuzzi tub, and shoved it open.

Pistol fire came from the front of the house and outside the study as McGarvey holstered his weapon then levered himself out the window where he hung for just a moment before dropping ten feet to the ground. He pulled out his gun and quickly moved to the back corner of the house as Todd dropped down from the bathroom and joined him.

McGarvey looked around the corner long enough to spot four figures dressed all in black, directing a continuous stream of 7.62 mm × 39 rounds slag into the upstairs of the house.

“I’ll take the farthest two,” he told Todd. “But get ready to move smartly when they realize what’s going on.”

“Right,” Todd replied tightly, the fifteen-round SIG-Sauer P226 that he preferred over the more accurate Wilson at the ready.

McGarvey, a spare magazine in his left hand, raised the pistol in his right and stepped around the corner, leaving enough elbow room for Todd to join him, and both of them calmly began firing, one shot after the other in rapid succession as if they were on a simulated live tactical situation at the Farm.

One of McGarvey’s targets went down immediately as did one of Todd’s, but the attackers were professionals who immediately understood that they were taking fire from their right, and they switched aim, diving for cover as they opened fire.

Todd took a grazing hit in his left side as he and McGarvey ducked back around the corner. “Shit,” he grunted

“You okay?” McGarvey demanded, reloading his pistol.

“I’ll live,” Todd replied, pissed off at himself that he had brought only one of the attackers down and had taken a hit himself. “What now? They’ll fan out and be coming around the corner any second.”

“Expecting us to be hauling ass for the front of the house to get out of their way,” McGarvey said. He hurried ten feet along the side of the house then dropped to a prone position.

Todd was grinning when he joined his father-in-law, dropping to the ground a few feet away and slamming a fresh magazine into the SIG’s handle.

“We’ll only have the first second or two before they figure out that they’ve been had,” McGarvey warned.

“They’re good,” Todd said.

“Yup, but we’re better, and they’re in a hurry.”

One of the black-clad shooters cautiously peered around the corner of the house for just an instant then ducked back out of sight. He said something in Russian to the other man, not bothering to keep his voice low. Evidently he’d not spotted the two figures lying on the ground no more than ten feet away.

He came around the corner, the second man right behind him, and before either of them knew what was happening McGarvey and Todd opened fire, dropping both of them.

“Four down, two to go,” McGarvey said, getting to his feet. The
firing at the front and opposite side of the house had stopped, the night deathly silent again.

“What now?” Todd asked.

“Go around back and force the kitchen door. Soon as you’re clear I’ll go around front to take care of whoever it was knocking at our door,” McGarvey said. “But watch yourself, son.”

“You too, Pop,” Todd said, and McGarvey winced. He hated the word.

 

 

 

EIGHTY-TWO

BOOK: The Expediter
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