The Templar Salvation (2010) (31 page)

“
Vedat
,” Reilly mouthed, but the word caught in his throat and he coughed. He tried to push himself to his feet to help him, faltered, then attempted it again and managed to get up—which was when two things happened.

First, more explosions went off nearby, smaller detonations, but still loud and potent enough to send him reeling backward. He realized they were grenades that the commandos had on them, blowing up as the flames licked them.

Then he heard the distant wail of a car engine. Coming straight at him.

He stumbled forward and turned, his mind still frazzled, not sure what to make of the noise, feeling a trickle of blood now oozing from his left ear and down the side of his neck. Through the smoke, he glimpsed the grille of the Discovery, glinting from the flames, hurtling down the mule path, its engine screaming. He saw a lone commando rush toward the SUV from the driver’s side, his weapon raised, unleashing a torrent of bullets on the Discovery—then he saw an arm gripping a handgun dart out of the car’s window and heard a trio of sharp gunshots slice the air just as the commando faltered and crashed to the ground, face-first.

The Discovery was bearing down on him, now so close his eyes could fill out the Iranian’s features through the dark windshield. Reilly shook his head and tried to breathe in some air, focusing on what he was doing there, on who was in that car, on how much he wanted him dead. He was reaching for his gun when a figure burst out in front of him, the Ozel Tim commander, Keskin. The man was covered in blood and limping, with a telltale crater in his thigh and another in his shoulder, but he seemed impervious to the pain, like he was on crack. He had a haunted look in his eye and an automatic in his hand and was lurching right into the path of the onrushing SUV.

Keskin stopped and raised his weapon, adjusting his aim—

Reilly stared in dazed disbelief as the arm darted out again from the car’s side window, only this time it was aimed forward—

“No,” Reilly yelled out—

—and bolted toward Keskin, feeling the big man’s body shudder from the impact of the bullets just as he tackled him from the side and shoved him out of the Discovery’s path. The two of them hit the ground hard just as the black SUV plowed through the very spot they’d been standing in and thundered down the mule track and out of view.

Reilly was winded and felt himself teetering on the edge of consciousness. Through foggy eyes, he glanced at Keskin. The man was staring back, his eyes wide open, blood gurgling out of his mouth. Reilly felt an impotence and a primal rage he’d never experienced before, a cauldron of hate roiling deep within him. He felt any strength remaining inside him drain away, and the thought of passing out and falling into a dark sleep seemed like an attractive one until one word burst through his daze and his fury and reminded him of who was in the bomber’s path.

Tess
.

TESS HEARD THE EXOLOSION and jumped.

This wasn’t part of the game plan. Worse—it was too big, far bigger than anything she imagined the weaponry she’d seen Reilly and the commandos take up with them could sound like. Which meant that it was someone else’s doing. And that didn’t sound good at all. Not when you considered how handy the man they were chasing was with explosives.

She switched off the flashlight she was using to study the map of the area that she’d brought with her and looked up the mountain. Seconds stretched out torturously, then more explosions followed. Smaller ones, different, more muffled, like thuds—but explosions nonetheless, echoing across the hills. Then came some scattered gunfire, and by now Tess was crippled with fear. It sounded like Iwo Jima up there.

The commandos around her were as startled as she was. They exchanged nervous words in Turkish that she couldn’t understand, though their body language said plenty. They didn’t know what was going on either. One of them reached for his walkie-talkie and, in a controlled tone, radioed the others. No reply came back. He tried again, this time with more alarm in his voice. Still nothing.

Then came the distant groan of a diesel engine, straining as it fought to slow the heavy SUV down the steep incline. Tess couldn’t see any lights coming down the mountain—then in the faint glimmer of moonlight, she saw a dark, boxy shape swerve down a hairpin before disappearing from view. The commandos saw it too and went into action mode, readying their weapons and flipping down the lenses of their night vision goggles as they shouted out to one another. One of them grabbed Tess with his free arm and hustled her back to safety, behind a Cobra light armored vehicle, positioning himself to shield her. The others ducked behind the two Humvees that were also parked there, and waited.

More nerve-racking seconds followed, the engine’s growl rising and falling as the SUV snaked down the mountain—then it appeared. A dark shape, heading toward them.

The commandos hesitated, unsure about whether or not to fire—then the car’s headlights suddenly came on, high beams, full blast.

Blinding.

They tore their goggles off, but their retinas were already seared, and in the precious seconds it took for them to adjust, they were exposed. Bullets quickly tore into one of the commandos, sending him snapping sideways like he’d been whipped. More rounds punched into the Humvee the other soldier was using for cover, biting into its panels and punching through its canvas cover.

Tess huddled low and covered her ears as the commando protecting her kept leaning out and firing quick bursts from his MP5 machine gun. His rounds took out one of the SUV’s headlights and drilled into its front grille, but it kept on coming, turning now so it was headed at the Humvee. It clipped the front left side of the wide jeep and sent it arcing right, slamming into the second soldier and knocking him to the ground. Moving with uncanny speed and precision, Zahed slammed on the brakes, burst out of the SUV and around its back, and pumped two bullets into the downed commando.

A shriek of anguish accompanied each shot, followed by haunting groans of agony. Tess spun her gaze to her guardian, unsure of what to make of it at first, then she understood. The bomber hadn’t killed the commando. He was toying with his victim, killing him one piece at a time to goad any remaining opponents and unsettle them. What he didn’t know was there was only one man left.

One man, and Tess.

The moans went on for the better part of a minute, then died out. The clearing was quiet now, except for the clicking of the idle diesel engine. Tess looked to her guardian for guidance. He raised a finger to his mouth, then edged sideways for a peek. Tess swallowed hard and pressed back against the cool hull of the armored carrier. She glanced down and suddenly became very conscious of the high ground clearance of the vehicle, and edged closer to the commando, both of them now tucked in behind one of its big, donutlike tires. Her protector was looking out, his brow furrowed with concentration, a lone bead of sweat glistening in the faint light, inching slowly down the side of his face.

He looked as scared as she was—then a metallic snap cut through the silence, followed by the sound of something spinning across the air.

The commando’s eyes instantly went wide with recognition. He grabbed Tess and threw her to the ground, throwing his body on top of hers, pressing her down. Whatever flew over them landed in the loose gravel beyond the Cobra and bounced a couple of times with a metallic clinking noise before exploding. The soldier knew what pulling a clip out of a grenade sounded like, but it had been thrown too far to cause them damage. Then Tess saw booted feet rush up to them, felt the commando scramble off her, and heard the bullets slam into him and punch him down to the ground.

The bomber hadn’t wanted to kill them with the grenade. He only needed the distraction.

Tess looked up.

He was looming over her, his eyes darting down at her while scanning the surroundings for any remaining threats. Tess knew there weren’t any left.

He picked up the dead commando’s submachine gun and told her, “Get up.”

His voice was as she remembered it. Dry, monotone, devoid of any trace of emotion.

She pushed herself to her feet, her arms and legs trembling at the sight of the same man who’d kidnapped her in Jordan and stuffed her into the trunk of a car alongside a big wad of explosives. And now here she was, in the middle of nowhere, alone with him. At his mercy.

Again.

Hoping he wasn’t about to utter the last words she ever wanted to hear from him.

No such luck.

“Let’s go,” he told her.

She thought of running, thought of lashing out at him for everything she knew he’d done, but she knew it would be pointless. Instead, she let him lead her to the Discovery and watched helplessly as he pumped several rounds into the tires of the Humvees and the Cobra to ground them. She got into the passenger seat beside him, and said nothing as they pulled away from the kill zone and drove off into the Anatolian night.

Chapter 32

J
ust getting up onto his feet was a titanic effort. Reilly felt like a boxer who’d been knocked down one time too many and could do nothing else but hug the canvas and ride out the count. But he couldn’t stay down. Not while Tess was out there.

He managed to push himself upright. All around him, small fires were blazing, lighting up a macabre tableaux of suffering. The acrid stench of death shrouded the scorched earth near him. Keskin was still there, by his feet. The beefy commando wasn’t moving anymore.

Reilly fought to regain some kind of focus in his mind, to order his frazzled thoughts into some kind of coherent plan. He spotted Ertugrul around thirty yards from him. The legat was flat on his back and wasn’t moving either. Beyond him, Reilly could see a couple of commandos who seemed uninjured and were tending to the wounded. He started toward them, hoping they were in radio contact with their comrades down the hill, the ones who had stayed behind with Tess. Then he remembered his own comm set and instinctively brought his hand up to his ear. His wireless headset was gone, no doubt blown away by the blast. He felt his pockets, but his transmitter wasn’t there either. He paused and dropped his gaze to the ground, scanning the rough soil for it, but quickly decided that was pointless. He’d moved around since the first explosion, and there was little hope of spotting the transmitter in the darkness. He staggered across the clearing again, toward the commandos, and stopped when he got to Ertugrul. A large patch of blood had darkened the soil around the legat’s head, and it didn’t look like he was breathing. He was just staring out into nothing, without blinking. Reilly bent down beside him and put two fingers to his neck. Ertugrul’s carotid artery wasn’t throbbing. He was gone.

Reilly set his hand on the fallen agent’s shoulder and exhaled heavily. He glanced around through seething eyes, the frustration pinning him down. Then he saw it, shimmering in the flames, a few feet behind Ertugrul’s body: the legat’s earpiece. He got back on his feet and retrieved it, and held it up with trembling fingers that were caked with blood and mud. It seemed intact. He clipped it onto his ear, hoping it was still working, and with a hoarse, faint voice, muttered, “Hawk Command? Come in, Hawk Command.”

The controller’s voice thundered back. “Jesus Christ, what the hell happened out there? You okay?”

“I’m okay, but Ertugrul’s dead,” Reilly said. He was back with the legat now, rummaging through his pockets, looking for the dead man’s transmitter and feeling like a vulture. “Others too. It’s bad. Real bad. We’re going to need medevacs. You need to get them here now.”

“Copy that. Hang on,” the controller said. “I’m handing you over to my CO.”

“Wait,” Reilly interrupted. “The bird. Is it still here?”

“Affirmative. Pull back is in seven minutes.”

Reilly shut his eyes tight, blocking out the carnage around him, trying to keep his mind focused. “The target vehicle. Are you tracking it?”