06 Double Danger (21 page)

“Looks like we’ve got company,” he said, “And they sure as hell aren’t a welcoming committee.” As if to underscore the point, a barrage of bullets strafed the floors and walls, some of them slamming into the crates they were hiding behind.

“So what do we do?” she asked, nervously clutching the Glock as another round of shots was fired.

“Fight back,” he said, as if it were the most obvious of choices. And she supposed for him, it was.

Sucking in a breath for fortification, she nodded, gun ready, waiting for Simon’s signal. His gaze locked with hers for a moment, and then he signaled “go.” Popping up from behind the crate, Jillian fired a couple of rounds in the direction of what she now recognized as car lights,
praying that she’d managed to hit one of the bastards. Unfortunately, the lights made it impossible to see anything clearly.

Another bullet whizzed past her ear, and with a mumbled curse, she dropped back down beside Simon. “How many do you think there are?”

“Judging from the trajectory, I’d say at least three of them. Maybe more. And if we can’t hold them off long enough to think of a way out, I’m afraid they’re going to close the distance.”

“How about ammo? I don’t suppose you have any extra.”

“I’ve got one extra clip. The rest is in the SUV, but they’ll cut us down before we can make it that far.” He nodded toward the front bays.

“So we’re trapped.”

“Looks like it,” he agreed, popping up to get off another round.

She followed suit, this time holding her shot until she saw a shadow detach from the bright lights. She thought she heard a gasp of pain. “I can’t be sure,” she said, as she dropped back beside Simon, “but I think maybe I hit one of them.”

“That’s my girl.” He grinned. “If we’re going to get out of this alive, we’ve got to make every shot count.”

“The lights make it impossible to see.”

“So we even the odds. You any good at sharpshooting?”

“With this?” She raised an eyebrow as she looked down at the Glock. “I wouldn’t hold your breath. But I did manage to hit the guy, so what have you got in mind?”

“Shooting out the lights. It’ll mean using a fair amount of the shots we have left, but if we can manage to cut even
one, it’ll help with visibility and make it that much harder for them to maneuver.”

“All right. Do we take turns or go for it all at once?”

“No guts, no glory.” Again she could see him smile, and with a silent count of three, they both pushed up from behind the crates, firing.

She could hear the answering barrage, but shut the sound out of her mind, concentrating instead on the beams of light. She heard the report from Simon’s gun, and one of the lights disappeared.

“Bingo,” he breathed, as she took her shot. Unfortunately, the light stayed the same. So she sucked in a breath and fired again. This time she heard the splintering of glass and another of the beams went black.

But the bullets were flying now, and she was forced to duck back behind the crate, the sound of metal burrowing into the wood making her stomach lurch.

“Simon,” she hissed, “get down.”

He shook his head, his eyes never wavering as he took another shot. And then another. And then two more. And suddenly the warehouse was plunged into shadowy darkness. Only a tinge of gold remained in the west windows, the light playing to their advantage since the intruders had come in from the east.

Still, they were outgunned and almost out of ammunition.

“Okay, if we’re going to make a move, we’ve got to do it now,” Simon said. “Before they have a chance to regroup. They have no idea that we’re running low on ammo, so they’ll move cautiously until they’re sure. That should buy us a little time.”

She nodded, waiting for him to elaborate.

“We can either head for the bay doors and hope to hell
that we can get them unlocked or go for the entrance to the hallway where we came in. The problem there being that we’d be coming out on the same side of the warehouse as our enemies.”

“Well, when you put it like that, neither option seems all that palatable. Is there a door number three?”

“Not that I can see.” He shook his head. “Unless you want to rush them.”

“Doesn’t seem like the smart alternative. What about the loft? The stairs are just across from us. If we make it, we’ll have a lot more room for maneuvering.”

Simon looked up, his expression calculating. “It might work, especially if we can figure out a way to go out one of the windows.”

“It’ll be a hell of a drop, but it might be worth a try.” She tried to keep her voice steady, but it trembled anyway.

“If I remember right,” he said, his gaze dropping back to hers as he pulled out the extra clip and switched it for the spent one, “there were some crates piled against the wall on the north side near the front of the warehouse. We’ll have to make it the full length of the loft, but if we do, the crates ought to help break our fall.”

“I don’t see that we have a choice.”

The night exploded again with gunfire, this time closer as their enemies took advantage of the dark to close the distance. Then their flashlights went on, the beams not nearly as disorienting, but still preventing clear vision.

“If we’re going,” Simon said, returning fire, “we should do it now. You go first, and I’ll cover you.”

Jillian nodded, already on her feet. She sprinted for the staircase as Simon engaged the gunmen, stopping only when she gained the relative safety of the stairs themselves.
Then, using the last of her ammo, she provided cover as Simon ran toward her, bullets exploding at his feet.

“All right,” he said, his breath warm against her cheek as they huddled beneath the stairs, “you start climbing, and I’ll be right behind you.”

Moving on winged feet, she started up the stairs, the metal risers clanging with each step. The shooters quickly readjusted their trajectory, a barrage of bullets slamming into the stairs. Then, just as she neared the top, a face appeared.

Not a friendly one.

She tried to stop, to reverse direction, but the man was already leveling his weapon, the flashlight in his other hand spotlighting her like a frightened ingénue on a Broadway stage. She froze, heart pounding, and then the sharp report of a gun was followed by the man above her tumbling over the railing.

Score one for the good guys.

But then the staircase exploded with light again. They’d run out of time.

“Move,” Simon said, grabbing her arm and yanking her back down the stairs again, bullets ricocheting off the metal with a zinging sound.

As soon as they reached the bottom steps, they jumped to the floor, heading for a group of oil drums located next to what looked to be a generator. Their assailants’ gunshots whizzed alarmingly close to Jillian’s head.

She zagged in the other direction, trying to avoid the continuing gunfire. Then Simon grabbed her arm, pulling her behind the steel expanse of one of the support beams. She dropped to the floor, gulping for breath. It wouldn’t work forever, but for the moment, it provided safe haven.

“I’m not sure that we have any choice but to make a run for it now,” Simon said, his mouth close to her ear, his voice so low it was almost inaudible.

“Bays or hallway?” she asked, still fighting against panic, her quick response earning her a reassuring squeeze on the arm. There was something to be said for screaming in fear, but now wasn’t the time. If they made it out of this in one piece,
then
she’d fall apart.

“Bays. We can use the support beams for cover. There’s no way we’ll be able to get the big doors open fast enough, but if we head up onto the loading dock, we might have time to get through that door. Unfortunately, there’s no cover. Which means we’ll be sitting ducks.”

“I’m out of ammo. How about you?”

“I’ve got one round left.”

“Well, if you can, save it,” she said, already tensing for their mad dash. “You might need to shoot off a lock.”

“Roger that.” He nodded with the ghost of a smile and then, with a last reassuring squeeze, motioned her to go. She took off at a dead run, not daring to look behind her. The bullets were flying everywhere. Simon might have taken a man out, but it seemed there were plenty more left to give chase.

She made it maybe ten yards before she felt a sharp sting in her left shoulder. Sliding behind a support beam, she checked her arm, her fingers coming away sticky with blood.

“You hurt?” Simon asked, sliding in beside her.

“It’s just a graze. Tore my shirt and scraped off some skin but that’s all. You think we can make it the rest of the way?”

“I don’t see another alternative,” he said, his tone gruff. “I’m sorry I got you into this.”

“You didn’t. I’m the one who came in without backup, remember?”

Another gunman emerged from the shadows almost directly in front of them, but Simon reacted immediately, pivoting so that he could get the shot. The man teetered for an instant and then fell, his body landing hard on the cement floor. Two down, but they were out of ammo.

And worse they were out of options. Their adversaries were closing ranks.

“I still say we make a break for the door,” Simon said, his gaze locked on the advancing tac-lights.

“I’m with you,” she said, her false bravado exposed by the shaky sound of her voice. The enemy lights inched closer, the gunfire resuming, and it took every ounce of strength she possessed to force herself out from behind the support beam. “What was it you said?” she whispered as she tightened her muscles in anticipation. “No guts, no glory?”

She sprinted for the loading dock, the distance seeming insurmountable. Bullets strafed the floor and clanged off the pillars. Then suddenly, one of the bay doors shattered as an SUV rammed through it, metal tearing and wood flying everywhere as all hell broke loose.

Bullets slammed into the vehicle as it swerved to a stop, Nash hanging out the passenger window, firing a machine gun. The back door swung open, Drake shooting over the top of the frame. “Hurry,” he said. “We can’t hold them off forever.”

For a moment, she stood frozen, stunned by the latest turn of events, and then Simon was there, grabbing her arm and pulling her forward. Just as they reached the SUV, something whistled past them, slamming into the loading dock, the whole thing going up in flames.

“Grenade launcher,” Drake said as they slid into the backseat. “Sons of bitches are upping the ante.”

“Everybody inside?” Avery asked, already flooring the SUV as he turned sharply back toward the shattered bay door from which they’d emerged.

“Roger that,” Drake said, slamming the door shut. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

Another grenade exploded just to the right of the SUV, and Nash dropped back into the seat, still firing the machine gun out the window. “I second that motion.”

Avery pressed the pedal to the floor, and the SUV lurched forward, wheels spinning against the debris, and then they were flying forward through the bay door and into the New Jersey night. As they roared down the road away from the warehouse, the night sky behind them exploded, fire licking up from the front and sides of the warehouse. The weathered old building shuddered as the flames spread, consuming the building with a malevolent greed.

“What the hell was that?” Drake asked.

“Oil drums,” Simon said. “Fuel for the generator. I’m guessing they must have hit them with a grenade by mistake.”

“You think they made it out alive?” Jillian whispered, only vaguely aware that she was clinging to Simon’s hand.

“Not if we’re lucky,” Simon said, with a twisted smile.

Köln, Germany

I
t might not have turned out exactly as planned,” Michael Brecht said, as he stood at the window in his office staring out at the Kölner Dom, the spires of the cathedral brightly lit against the night sky, “but we’ve achieved our goal nevertheless.”

“But despite everything, A-Tac survived. And now they know everything about Lester and Isaacs. And probably Rivon’s connection as well.”

“Stop worrying, I’ve already closed that loop. Made it an endless circle, leading exactly nowhere. Rivon has always been problematic. He was never the team player his brother was. We’ll be better off without him.”

“And Isaacs?” Gregor asked.

“He still has a job to do,” Michael shrugged, turning to face his number two. “But make no mistake, my friend. In our business, everyone is expendable.”

“So you’re not worried about A-Tac?”

Michael laughed, the sound bitter in his ears. “I’m
always concerned about their involvement in anything we do. But since we can’t seem to stop them, our next best option is to use them. Which is exactly what I intend to do. I’ve managed to stay one step ahead of them thus far, and I’m not anticipating that changing any time soon. Avery Solomon isn’t a fool, but he’s never been a match for me.”

“There are some who think you’ve gone too far.” Gregor at least had the grace to look uncomfortable with the pronouncement. “That your obsession with A-Tac is going to be your downfall.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I’m running the show then, isn’t it?” Michael forced a smile, even as he balled his hands into fists, swallowing his anger. There was nothing to be gained by letting his temper get the best of him. It wasn’t the first time he’d heard the sentiment. And he doubted it would be the last. But he’d be damned if he let it come true.

“Despite A-Tac’s interference, the first two stages went off exactly as intended. And the third and fourth have been carefully planned. All we have to do now is wait. A-Tac will be so busy trying to deal with the fallout from our newest attack they won’t realize it’s not the true objective until it’s too late.”

“All right, everybody,” Avery said, his big voice booming out into the brownstone’s parlor, “I know it’s really late, and that we’ve all been through a lot. But we need to debrief while it’s all still fresh in our minds.”

“I don’t think I’m going to be forgetting any of it any time soon.” Simon sat with his foot propped up on a chair, his leg throbbing with pain that felt like a red-hot poker jamming into his upper thigh.