Hawk (The Quiet Professionals, Book 2) (53 page)

But there was nothing. No sound. No ringing. He glanced at the display and bit back a curse. Signal was gone.

Maybe if he could get a little higher. Planting his boot to the right he pushed up. His boot punched through the snow. A shelf broke away. Rocks tumbled down. Buried his foot and ankle. Brian wrestled to yank his leg free. But the rocks had a mind of their own. Each tug he gave seemed to harden the resolve of the rocks. A few seconds later, he couldn’t get an inch of movement.

“What the freak?” Brian dug, tossing aside rocks.

Rocks spit at him. He jerked, a stinging warning against his cheek as he looked up. Two men stood there, aiming QBZ-95s at him.

Exposed. No weapon in hand thanks to nearly doing a face-plant on the side of the mountain, he had no recourse but surrender. “Son of a gun,” Brian muttered, raising his hands.

The men slid-ran down the peak toward him.

And that worked its magic. The entire side of the hill gave way. Which tossed Brian down the crest but also freed his foot. And put distance between him and the Chinese men.

When the mini avalanche stopped, Brian spotted his weapon less than three feet away. He lunged and lifted it, coming to a knee, all too aware of the pain in his shoulder and now in his ankle, too. Pain later. Assassins first.

He traced the white and rocky chaos. Spotted one of the men pull himself upright. Setting up a good position, Brian knelt. Brought his AK-47 around.

A bullet seared his cheek.

Brian hissed and rolled to the side. “Augh!” His shoulder! More determined now that they’d nearly put lead in his brain, he dug in. Got his bearings. Remembered the shooter’s position. He angled out. Peered down the scope…right into the face of the other shooter.

Who lifted his head. Lowered his weapon.

What the…?

Why would he pull off?

Crunch
.

Brian swung around. Two things registered in that split second. The man looming over him with death in his eyes. And a distant thunder. Reinforcements? The chopper that had tried to pepper him full of high-caliber holes?

The man dived at Brian.

As his head connected with the rock, sprinkling spots across his vision, Brian focused on the sound of the chopper. That wasn’t the same Chinese bird. Pinned against the rock, he struggled to keep his mind off the pain in his shoulder. But the weakness resulting from the wound threatened survival now.

Steeling himself, he slammed the fleshy part of his hand against the man’s side.

With a wail, the man arched his back. Tumbled sideways.

Brian scrambled away. Groped for the handgun.
Where’d it go?

The chopper raced nearer.

God, I can’t die here. I gotta save Raptor and Fekiria
.

He glanced to the side. Saw the QSW-06. Careful of his shoulder, he angled to the side, stretching to reach the weapon.

A massive eruption of pain exploded against his gut. Threw him backward.

L
ook.” Sheevah pointed beyond Fekiria.

When she glanced that way, she didn’t see what the teen meant at first. But then she saw it. A path, worn by feet or goats. “Get off the path!”

A chopper thundered over them, racing southward.

Toward the airport, she guessed. There was not much else for miles. A few small villages, but that little airport was the only hope she had for survival. Not that she expected to find a plane, but there would be radios. Maybe even people. She could signal for help.

Besides, it was the opposite direction Brian would have to take to reach the base. And she had to be certain he would not come upon them, or he’d stay with them. And they’d slow him. His friends and soldiers would die.

The chopper swung around. Came back.

“Hide against the rocks!” Fekiria pointed to the jagged outcropping of boulders that had tumbled down from the higher peaks. After grabbing Sheevah’s hand, she ran, dragging the girls with her.

Pressed against the snow and icy boulders, she scooted in as close as she could and wrapped her arms around Sheevah as they burrowed down.

The deafening thunder pounded her ears. It grew louder. Fekiria could not help but wonder if they’d been seen, if someone was coming—

A peppering of noise made her still.

Was that…?

Bullets pelted the rock by her face. Fekiria grabbed Sheevah’s head and pulled her down then covered the two girls with her own body.

Gunfire continued. Only… She trained her ear to the side—it sounded like…

Shouts. From behind them.

Fekiria glanced over her shoulder.

Saw a Pashtun farmer in the trees waving frantically at her. “Come. Hurry!”

Then she noticed the other Pashtuns with assault rifles firing at the chopper.

She drew Sheevah up and pointed to the men. “Go!” They hobbled and jumped over the rocks, climbing toward the trees. Whether friend or foe, at least this might be a chance to stay alive.

A boulder flicked shards at her.

Fekiria winced but kept moving, all too aware of the chopper spitting bullets at them. Arms folded around them, ushering them into relative darkness and a strange warmth. Not like a fire gives off but of a lesser cold. Because of the forest.

They hiked a worn path up and around the side of the mountain. Then down. Fekiria glanced back, her heart jamming into her throat at the half-dozen men trailing them with weapons. They led her and the girls into a small village of no more than a dozen plaster dwellings. Three women welcomed them by wrapping thick blankets around them and placing hot cups in their hands, urging them to drink.

Relief over the shelter and food warred with Fekiria’s need to get help to Brian. But she sat and sipped the warmed broth, so much better than the one she’d made last night. Only as her limbs grew heavy did Fekiria think they might’ve put something in it. Something to kill them. Or knock them out. With a hard swallow, she set aside the cup.

The stocky woman kneeling in front of her lifted the cup back to her. “Drink. You need it.”

Her head began to swim. “No, I need to call my captain. I’m in the ANA. My helicopter crashed.” It wasn’t entirely untrue, just the truth spread out a little. But she would never call the base. She would call her cousin, the only person she trusted right now.

The man who’d rescued them from the rocks handed her a phone.

Fekiria breathed a little easier, fighting the dizziness. Even as she dialed Zahrah’s number, she noticed Aadela and Sheevah were sleeping soundly.

God, help me. They drugged us!

“Hello?”

“Zahrah,” she said, her words slurred. “I—help me,” she said in English. “I’m—”

“Fekiria?”
Her cousin practically screamed. “Where are you?”

“A Pashtun village. In the mountains…” Her words sounded like they were echoing. She braced a hand over her forehead. “Brian…” It was so hard to talk. To think. “Help him. The house…” She licked her lips and tried to look at the woman, who blurred. “Where…?”

The woman gave her a sympathetic smile.

“Help me, Z. They drugged me. They’re…kill…me.”

I
think it is time for you to take a position here at Takkar Corp.”

Daniel coiled the near insult beneath his dignity. “What do you propose?” It was odd, the dragon and the Sikh coming together once again, more than two decades after the original commitment had been set forth.

Sajjan turned his laptop around so it faced Daniel. Did the man think him a puppet? To be shifted at will? “I think it will please you.”

Was he to trust this man? Daniel forced his eyes to the monitor. Surprise tugged up his eyebrows. A logo stared back. He shot the man a look. “What is this?”

“Long overdue.” Takkar sat in the oversized leather chair, fingertips steepled. “Do you not think?”

The symbol entwined the Takkar lion with a dragon amid a flame.

“Why now?” If he did not work to tame the dragon within him, there would be flames. Heated, scorching ones cast at the man who had withheld what belonged to Daniel.

Sajjan met Daniel’s gaze with a steady expression. “It has been awhile, yes, since you lived in Afghanistan?”

“Since we were children.”

“Exactly.” Sajjan lifted his head a little. “You have shown interest, and reports are positive with what you have achieved in Shanghai. You’ve done well.”

“You patronize me?” Daniel came to his feet, ready to free himself of this insult. Of this man who held an illusory power, a power that had not been meant for him alone.

“Indeed not,” Sajjan said. “I applaud you. What you have accomplished in Shanghai is worthy of every praise I could give. Your interest in efforts here in Afghanistan speaks to me.”

Was this a trap? Why had Sajjan suddenly decided to let him in? “I’ve asked for years to partner—”

“You asked, but you did not show me your interest.” The man’s face was a mask of civility and yet a stone mask impenetrable by emotions. “Words are cheap, Jin. You have come, shown me your interest, not just demanded a position and power, actively sought what your father sought and began.”

Vindication swarmed through Daniel. Trembling with the satisfaction of hearing this man speak those words, Daniel worked to maintain his resolve. His determination that he would upend this man. This corporation.

“It is time to bring to fruition what our fathers dreamed here twenty years ago.” Sajjan cocked his head. “Would you agree?”

“Yes.”

“Then we will make it happen.” Sajjan stood. “One week. Here at the tower, let’s meet again with our lawyers and teams to make it official.” He extended a broad hand.

Daniel wanted to grab the hand, twist it at the wrist, and push this man’s face into the highly glossed floor. Instead he simply shook hands. “Next week.” He needed to act grateful. “Thank you.”

“There is no thanks needed. This belongs to you.”

Yes
, Daniel hissed inwardly. Offering only a nod, he walked himself to the door, not trusting himself to speak. Did this man seriously think it was his place to say what belonged to Daniel and what did not? What it was time to do and not to do?

Sajjan Takkar overstepped once again. And Daniel would make sure that next step was right off the roof of the thirty-something-story tower.

By the time he reached his hotel room, he shook with indignation. Slamming the door did little to appease the demons screaming within him. “
My father
built that corporation with as much blood as his!” He moved to the bar and spread his hands on the marble counter. Then fisted them. “How
dare
he—”

“Sir!”

Daniel spun, ready to skewer his man for interrupting. Instead, he went ice cold.

Two men hurried in with Kiew propped between them. Blood smeared across her face, almost shielding the swollen eye. The busted lip. “What is this?” he demanded to the two men. “You were to protect her!”

“The American soldier was in Location Four. We weren’t expecting him.”

Daniel spun back to Kiew. “He shot you?” She shook her head, looking at his guard. “No. We fought…”

“How did she get shot?” Daniel demanded of the guard.

Reluctance tied the man’s tongue. “I…I manned the gun on the chopper. When I saw the American running, I tried to cut him down.”

Fury tore through Daniel. “
You?
You shot her?” In a rage, he rushed them. Yanked the weapon from the man’s holster. Fired into the man’s chest. Aimed at the other.

“No!” Kiew whimpered as she stumbled into Daniel. She twisted and slid to the floor as a crimson stain blossomed over her abdomen.

The guard cursed.

“Get a doctor!” Daniel shoved the guard toward the door. He jerked and dropped at Kiew’s side. As his beautiful Kiew lay there bleeding out, Daniel knew more than ever he would do anything to crush the American soldiers. “I will cut them down like dogs.”

A
n hour into the frantic thoughts of betrayal, I fire up the tin cabin’s engine. Start driving. I’m not even a mile out when I realize I need gas. I mutter an oath. If I’d waited the two more hours like I’d planned, I’d be out of luck and petrol. Gas stations would be closed.

My little island unto itself lumbers up to a gas pump. Grabbing some cash from the console, I still can’t shake the disbelief that they got so close to finding me again. With Zmaray, it was more an invasion of privacy. A breakdown of mutual respect.

This is more. Bigger. It’s an outright threat that they’ll kill me.

I’m no fool. I won’t be that stupid. Just because I dig a fat bank account doesn’t mean I’m willing to be someone’s lackey. Doesn’t work that way. A good business relationship has respect flowing both ways.

With a wave, I greet the store attendant. Shove a wad of bills into his hands then start pumping. He goes back inside. Through the grimy window, I watch him to make sure he’s not making calls or talking to anyone. That’s right. I’m paranoid now. And with good reason. But the owner stretches out on a bed, the blue hue of a TV glaring across his face.