Titanium Security Series 4 - Extinguished (20 page)

Fuck you
, he told Hassani silently.

The first truck was in the way, blocking Blake from getting a clear shot on Hassani’s vehicle. It had to go.

Taking aim, mentally calculating how much lead he had to give the target, he centered the crosshairs on the driver’s side of the windshield and squeezed the trigger. The powerful bullpup rifle bucked against his shoulder with the recoil. Sparks of white light ignited in front of his eyes but he blinked them away and his vision cleared in time for him to see the big armor piercing round rip through the windshield.

“Hit, driver’s side windshield,” Jordyn reported. “Driver down.” Blake was already looking for his next shot as the vehicle swerved and skidded to a halt, clearing the way for a shot on Hassani. They needed to take him alive, unless killing him was the only way to capture him. Blake couldn’t shoot him now. But he could for fucking sure keep him from driving out of this valley.

The second vehicle swung in an arc to begin a three point turn.

Without pause he took aim again, this time at the engine block of the second vehicle. Not needing any help from Jordyn this time he squeezed the trigger, absorbing the kick of the recoil with gritted teeth. With grim satisfaction he watched as the big round plowed right through the engine block.

Blake smiled, the hit making all the pain he was currently in worth it.
Take that, you son of a bitch.

****

Malik yelped and threw his hands up to cover his head as a heavy round slammed into the hood of the SUV, tearing through the front end. The truck shuddered and groaned. Flames burst from beneath the hood and the big vehicle came to a grinding stop.

There was no time to sit there. “Go, go!” he shouted at the driver.

“I’m trying! It won’t start.” Just as he said it, the fire erupted from beneath the hood in a ball of orange as the oil ignited. The man cried out and tore at his seatbelt, then frantically heaved his body up and over the seat into the back with Malik and Bashir.

Malik shoved the flailing body off him in disgust. “Get into the other vehicle,” he snapped at Bashir.

Bashir reached for the door handle and yanked. It didn’t open. The safety locks were engaged. The precious seconds it cost him to disable them ticked by loudly in Malik’s head. Fear bubbled up inside him, stealing insidiously through his veins. They had to reach the other truck before the sniper got it.

“Go, go!” He shot a leg across the backseat to kick Bashir’s door open, then shoved him out. The other man tumbled face first into the ground. Malik vaulted out, nearly stepping on Bashir’s head in his haste, and frantically turned toward the remaining SUV.

The heat of the flames licked at his back. Gunfire popped behind him, where the Taliban fighters were still engaged with the American ground force. Only yards away from him, the last truck was already taking off with a spin of its tires, spewing dirt and gravel at them. Malik yelled at the driver to stop. He even pulled out his pistol and aimed it at the windshield. But the man was either too panicked to obey or a complete coward, because he reversed hard and swung the truck around in a skidding arc, then drove away from them.

Swearing under his breath, knowing the bullets in his pistol wouldn’t pierce the vehicle’s body or even the glass, Malik had no choice but to let it go. He dropped to a crouch to make himself a smaller target and cast a desperate look around.
The cave.

Another loud bang. He swung his head around in time to see the sniper had put another bullet through the escaping vehicle’s engine. The driver leaped out of the burning vehicle and ran in the opposite direction from Hassani.

Pushing to his feet, he grabbed Bashir’s arm and ran headlong for the black mouth of it, not sparing a second thought for the driver who’d been at the wheel of the burning vehicle behind him. Halfway to the entrance, the unmistakable thump of rotors filled the air. He risked a glance over his shoulder and saw three Blackhawks zooming in low, and the outline of two huge Chinooks close behind them.

Tearing his gaze away, he put his head down and sprinted for cover. The noose was tightening. He could almost feel it cinching around his neck. “We have to get back across to the other trucks!” he yelled over the noise to Bashir, who was racing after him. “And make sure someone kills that damn sniper!” If not for that shot through the engine, he’d already be on his way out of the valley.

And then you’d be on the run from those Blackhawk and Chinook crews.

An icy tendril of fear threaded up his spine. He could hear Bashir’s footsteps behind him, pounding on the hard ground, his panting breaths as he ran. He was talking on his radio as he entered the opening of the cave behind Malik, rattling off orders and issuing the command to locate and eliminate the sniper.

Head down, relying on the slight illumination from his flashlight, Malik ran as fast as the narrow and winding tunnel would allow. He had minutes at most to make it nearly a mile across to the decoy vehicles beside the village and get away before the assault teams in those Chinooks trapped him.

Shouts and the slap of running feet sounded behind them. Fighters from the Taliban warlords’ forces racing into the tunnels in a desperate bid to escape the new threat. They piled into the tight space, blocking the only exit on this side of the valley.

Sealed inside the prison of his own choosing, Malik raced toward the only other escape remaining.

****

“He’s inside,” Jordyn confirmed, her dismay offset by a burst of relief that exploded inside her at the sight of those helos. Blake’s answering growl of frustration told her he wasn’t nearly as happy about the situation.

“Dammit, I thought I’d exposed him. That I had him
stranded
.”

Was he kidding? “You just made a nearly impossible shot and stopped the truck, forcing him out on foot. You couldn’t have hit him without killing him and you know it.” She knew it was the only reason he’d held off pulling the trigger when Hassani had leapt from the burning vehicle. “And we’ve still got him. He’s not getting out of there.” She indicated the valley with a sweep of her arm.

The pulse of the rotors got louder. Ahead of them the Blackhawks hovered in position in the center of the valley, the door gunners firing their machine guns in bursts to clear off the remaining fighters who hadn’t reached the temporary safety of the caves. Behind them, the bulky Chinooks had dropped low into an in-ground hover as teams of men fast-roped to the ground and fanned out in a defensive perimeter. Jordyn peered through her scope. Ranger tabs on the shoulders. As well as at least another dozen heavily armed men with thick beards and customized gear.

SEALs maybe, or Delta. Either way, she was damn glad to see them.

Glad to finally be able to hand this mission over to their backup, she pushed out a breath and got onto one knee to check the battlefield one last time. No one was coming at them. For now at least, their part of the action was over. All the militants had scattered toward the various cave entrances, like ants whose nest had been exposed. Time to get her and Blake to better cover.

“Roger. We see you,” Blake suddenly said. She glanced over at him, knowing he’d heard something over the earpiece. “Hunter reported in,” he told her. “He and Gage are moving toward us, six hundred feet to your ten o’clock.”

Jordyn aimed her scope in their direction and found them. “Got ‘em.” She stayed where she was, ready to help provide covering fire if necessary, but there was no one left to shoot at them as Hunter and Gage ran up. They were both breathing hard, their camouflage-painted faces streaked with sweat.

“You all right?” Hunter asked Blake. “We saw you go down when that RPG hit.”

Apparently satisfied that they were safe enough for the moment, Blake finally took his eye from the scope and raised his head. “I’m fine,” he said curtly.

He wasn’t fine, Jordyn thought in annoyance, taking in the dozens of bloody scrapes she could see on his face and through the tears on his sleeves alone. Anyone could take one look at him and know that much. And the damage she couldn’t see had to be way worse. Some of those rocks had been so big she’d had to help roll them off him. The man was just too proud and stubborn to admit how much pain he was in, though it wasn’t going to help the situation if he did. She was worried he might have internal injuries.

Hunter’s voice broke into her thoughts. “We’ve linked up with the sniper team,” he said, one hand going to his earpiece. Was he talking to Alex? “Standing by.” A pause. “Copy. We’ll maintain defensive positions and report on any enemy movement we observe. Over.” Hunter lowered the muzzle of his rifle and grinned down at Blake, his teeth a startling white against the camouflage paint. “Those shots through the engine block?
Nice
.”

Blake grunted a response as he gingerly shifted onto all fours, unable to hide a wince as he did so. “Thought I could slow him down enough for us to get him.”

“Oh, you slowed him down, all right.” Hunter’s grin split into an evil smile. “Now they’ll clean house.” He nodded to the reinforcements, already scattering around the edge of the valley to locate and seal off all the cave exits.

“Come on.” Gage stepped over to reach down a hand and help him up, though it was obvious Blake hated accepting the assistance. “Let’s make sure we help these boys keep those holes plugged, huh? Smoke the fuckers right out of those tunnels.”

Jordyn immediately stepped up to put an arm around Blake’s waist. Now that the immediate threat against them was over she needed to touch him and didn’t care if the others knew it. Blake glanced down at her. His gold-flecked eyes crinkled a little as he smiled. “We make a good team.”

She smiled back, filled with gratitude at the compliment and that he didn’t pull away from her touch. “Yeah, we do.”

“Yep, damn fine job, both of you,” Hunter agreed. A deadly gleam lit his amber gaze. “Now let’s move. Time to catch a rat.”

The last remaining exit was blocked.

Dozens of men dressed in tribal clothing streamed toward him from the opposite end of the tunnel, shouting and shoving at each other to get through the throng of bodies and into the section that led to the opposite side Malik had just come from. Not only were they blocking his escape, their stupidity and chaos were costing him precious seconds he didn’t have. The last getaway vehicles might already be destroyed.

With an enraged snarl he shoved his way through the mob of disorganized men, using his shoulder like a battering ram. They were peasants, a blind flock of sheep he could control. He’d once been like them but he’d fought his way to the top and hadn’t looked back. He couldn’t respect these ignorant men who were content to live in poverty.

Men grunted and cursed him in the darkness, some punching or grabbing him. He barely felt the blows, focused solely on reaching that exit. It was close now, only fifty yards away.

His heart raced, the flood of adrenaline urging his body to move, move. He shoved harder, knocking men into each other as he forced his way through the blockage in the tunnel. Ignorant idiots could die in here like the expendable pack of dogs they were.

A hand grabbed a fistful of his shirt and yanked him backward hard enough to rip the seams. Malik whirled to strike the arm away and came face to face with Bashir in the too-bright beam of the flashlight. The other man’s eyes were wide, the fear on his face snaking through Malik. He would not desert his friend.

“Come on,” Malik shouted. He whirled and battered his way through the knot of fighters standing between him and the relatively empty portion of the tunnel. Bashir clung to his shirt and didn’t let go as they fought through the tangled mass of men who were supposed to have cleared off the Americans.

Finally they were through the clot of humanity. Shouts rose up behind them, full of fear and confusion. Followed by something that sounded like a small explosion.

American reinforcements, coming to clear out the tunnels. Or bury anyone inside alive.

Malik rushed onward, his pulse pounding in his ears in time with his rapid footfalls. Up ahead he could just make out the impression of light around the next bend. He snapped off his flashlight and ran, gearing up for the coming desperate sprint to the other vehicles. He’d be exposed in broad daylight, with about sixty meters of open ground to cover before he could get to the trucks.

More men ran toward him, their panicked shouts about advancing soldiers raking over his tautly stretched nerve endings. He
knew
the soldiers were coming. It was why he needed out of this damned tunnel.

One of the men tripped and fell. His comrades stumbled over his prone body and hit the ground, forming another blockage in the tunnel. Malik grabbed the first man he came to by the back of the shirt and flung him aside. Another shouted a threat and raised his rifle at him.

Malik yanked out his pistol and put a round through the man’s forehead. The body fell at his feet and he kicked it aside with a growl. The others froze, backed up against the sides of the tunnel to get the hell out of his way.

Pistol up, he ran on with Bashir until the tunnel made its final bend to the right and rose toward the exit. Gunfire echoed from outside, sharp and precise. The sheer volume of fire told him everything he needed to know.

The Americans were already in position. And they were close. They might have even found the cave entrance.

Malik skidded to a stop and shrugged out of Bashir’s grip. Outrage and denial seared his brain, but he couldn’t refute the evidence in front of his eyes. There was nowhere else to go. The tunnels were too crowded now, he’d never get through and if he even reached another exit it would be surrounded also. The men around him might turn on him at any moment. This exit ahead was his only hope. He’d just have to risk it, plunge through the opening and bolt for the vehicles he prayed were still there.

“We can’t go through there,” Bashir protested in a loud whisper. The tension in his voice drew Malik’s stomach even tighter. “It would be suicide!”