by S L Shelton
Kathrin stepped in front of her. “I’m so very sorry. We had no idea…” she said.
Hülya interrupted her. “What’s going on, Kathrin? What have you done?”
Maurice stepped into the living room in just a pair of pants. “What’s going on?”
I raised my finger to my lips. “Shhh,” I hissed. “Something is going on, and we don’t have time to explain. But for everyone’s safety, it would be best if we all left the house.”
Maurice stared at me blankly as I went to the edge of the balcony door and looked through the blinds. I caught a glimpse of movement on the ground.
It’s too late, I thought.
“We have to get you both out of the apartment,” I whispered as I ran back to them. “No time to take anything. You must leave now.”
Kathrin ran to check the window behind me. “Tactical,” she muttered.
I nodded and looked around before my eyes came to rest on the wall that separated the apartments. In the eating area was a heavy wooden sideboard. When I reached for it and began to pull it way from the wall, Maurice grabbed me by the shoulder.
“What’s going on?” he asked loudly, anger rising to his face.
I turned to him. “Kathrin and I have been investigating some very bad guys,” I said. “It looks like they found out.”
“Bad?” he asked. “Are you police?”
“Something like that,” Kathrin said, joining us in the eating area. “You have to trust us when we say you need to leave.”
I began kicking a hole through the drywall in the dining room.
“What are you doing?!” Hülya yelled at me.
Kathrin grabbed Hülya by the shoulders and spun her around. “There are men outside with guns and explosives. They are here for me and Scott,” she whispered, but the urgency in her voice made it seem much louder.
Once the sheet-rock was broken, I grabbed the poker from the fireplace and began smashing the fire barrier between the apartments.
“I have to get my—”
“There is no time,” Kathrin said to Hülya as I broke through the sheetrock in the other apartment. I got down on my knees and pulled the hole larger.
“Through here. Now. Go downstairs, find a closet, get in, and stay in,” I said firmly.
Hülya stood there, dumbfounded.
I looked up at Maurice. “Take her, now!” I said. “Kathrin will go with you.”
Kathrin turned to me, her mouth agape. Before she could protest I stood and faced her.
“They need to be taken to safety,” I said. “I’ll cover your exit. As soon as everything calms down, call Langley and tell them what’s happened. Let them know Storc’s servers are down.”
“But I—”
“Kathrin,” I said softly, smiling as genuinely as I could. “You have to save Maurice and Hülya.”
She turned and looked at our hosts, who were now crawling through the hole in their apartment wall. The argument in her face melted.
Throwing her arms around me, she whispered into my ear, “You are my one and I will never give up on you.” She kissed me before turning, following them both through the hole.
I breathed out in relief as soon as I had the sideboard back in place, completely covering the opening I had made. I took the resulting moment of silence to calm my mind and focus.
My iPad and phone, I thought. I need to wipe them.
I pulled both devices from my canvas bag before activating the “wipe” app. As soon as I had entered my code for the forensic-level erase, I dropped them to the ground. They were now worthless to me.
It was dark in the apartment, and the blinds were drawn closed. Lessons from the Farm began flooding my mind as I tried to prepare for the coming assault.
Where are they now? I wondered as I went to the front door in the recessed entry alcove and peeked through the security hole. In the stairwell, there were three men slowly making their way up the stairs in the dark. I could see their shadows on the entry wall as they turned the corner half a flight down. No doubt the movement I had seen through the back window would be three others, coming up the back.
That’s what I’d do…half the entry force to the rear, half to the front.
I looked around, hopelessly searching for something bulletproof to use for cover. But in modern apartments, drywall was the only thing separating rooms.
Think, Scott…tactical entry into an apartment. What do you do? I asked myself.
I looked through the peephole again. They were only steps away.
Night vision. Limited perspective.
And then I looked up. The entry alcove was narrow and the ceilings were low.
That’s it! They won’t look up when they enter, I thought. Low ceilings, limited range of vision, target to the front.
With adrenaline coursing through my veins, I jumped to action. Only feet away, on the other side of a simple steel door, a three-man assault squad was about to enter. I extended my leg back against the wall and pressed my hands against the opposite side before “walking” up the wall of the entry alcove. When my back touched the ceiling, I quietly set one foot and one hand on the top trim of the door and braced.
I could hear scuffing on the landing outside the door. I waited, patiently, controlling my breathing as I slowly turned my head toward the living room…no clear line of sight to the back sliding door. Good! I thought. The other team will have to come in before they see me.
I heard a rustle of nylon outside the door and then it crashed open beneath me…but no one came in.
Why wouldn’t they come in? I thought and then I saw the blur of three hairspray can-sized objects whiz through the opening.
Flash bangs! I closed my eyes tightly, pressed my ear against my shoulder, and then opened my mouth, exhaling on the count of three.
Bang! Bang, Bang! The grenades went off, filling the room with light, sound, and pressure that buffeted my body. Had my toes and fingers not been secured on the doorframe, I would have fallen. The three men rushed in, two in advance, one in rear cover. To the back of the house, I heard the sliding glass door break through the ringing in my ears.
As soon as the trailing man moved into the house, I dropped down on him. My hand flew to his mouth as my other found his throat. Crack! I wrenched his head sideways while pulling the opposite direction on his neck.
As I let him fall, I slipped the Glock from my holster and then calmly raised it to the heads of the two in front of me. The first began to turn as I pulled the trigger.
Clack. My silenced Glock spat flame and hollow point at the man’s skull.
The second man spun around, rifle held high, and pushed my arm to the side as his partner fell.
I drew in toward him quickly, catching him with my elbow just above his body armor where the chin meets the neck. As he tipped backward from the impact, I pushed the barrel of his rifle away and then fired at his head. It would have been a kill shot, but the entry team from the back of the apartment crashed through the broken patio door and fired, sending me sideways.
He yelled out as his hand flashed to his ear while I dropped to the ground. He tried to bring his heel down on me, but I rolled before it made contact.
Shots were impacting, splintering the floor all around me as I continued to roll back toward the door, and then I pushed one of the dead men in front of me from the floor. I could feel the impact of bullets through the corpse.
Suddenly, they stopped firing, and I could hear a voice through the earpiece of the dead man. “Alive! I need him alive!”
I recognized the voice immediately. Harbinger.
A fresh flood of adrenaline dumped into my bloodstream. Without hesitation, I lifted the rifle, still dangling from my dead shield’s tactical vest, and sprayed the room with suppressed automatic fire. When the bolt locked back, I fired with my Glock, kicking the dead man away as I crawled backward.
I didn’t wait for them to recover as I rolled to the wall and then launched myself through the door. Unable to get my
feet under me as my momentum propelled me down the stairs, I tucked and rolled. I landed hard on the landing but kept my wits enough to turn the corner, out of the line of sight to the apartment. At the bottom, I righted myself before diving into the brush outside.
I frantically searched for targets outside as footsteps began crashing down the stairs behind me. Seeing no other attackers, I dashed through a line of evergreens, into the parking lot, and then set into a sprint toward the main road. At least Kathrin and her friends are safe, I thought.
“Mr. Wolfe,” Harbinger bellowed from the side. “Aren’t you going to say good-bye to your lady friend before you depart?”
I stopped as if I had run into a wall and slowly turned in the direction of the voice.
“It would be very rude to leave her so abruptly without some sort of parting sentiment,” Harbinger added.
I looked into the dark and saw the silhouette of a large man looking toward the apartments. He hadn’t seen me. Barely illuminated by the streetlight, I saw Kathrin, suspended in air by her throat at the end of the monster’s huge arm.
“No, no, no,” I muttered, trying to fight the rising panic in my chest, but despair and defeat began to fill my mind.
I ducked down as the attackers ran past and around the building. Crouching, I waited until they had passed me before I moved closer.
“No?” he questioned. “That seems to have made her very sad. I must do the humane thing and put her down.”
I heard Kathrin scream.
There was no second thought. “No!” I yelled as I stood, exposing myself. “I’m here.”
“Mr. Wolfe? Good!” he shouted with what sounded like real joy. “And look! She’s happier already.”
Kathrin was in pain; I heard her gasping and moaning with each movement.
“Well, don’t keep her waiting,” he said tauntingly and then Kathrin screamed again. I walked closer, holding my weapon at eye level.
“Don’t do it, Scott,” she pleaded. “Go.”
Anger passed through my whole body. I’m going to do what I should have done in the desert, I thought as my finger brushed the trigger safety and I began to squeeze past it. I had the big man’s head dead to rights.
“No, no, Mr. Wolfe,” he taunted, lifting her in front of him. “Her lovely neck will be broken before your bullet does me in.”
I hesitated.
Take the shot, I thought. Neural response to a bullet to the head is to release, not contract.
Kathrin screamed again, pinched roughly between the man’s fingers.
But then again, Harbinger is a Gold Rush-enhanced soldier. His neural responses might be different. Shit!
“Kill him!” Kathrin yelled, pain and rage filling her voice.
Harbinger chuckled as he moved her into my line of fire. She squealed in pain again. I could see her legs, kicking backward, helplessly trying to injure him. It was clear she was working without a net, ready to sacrifice herself for me.
My fingers tightened around the grip of my Glock, but my decision had already been made—there was no way in hell I was going to let the woman I loved die for my mistake even if it meant my own death.
I dropped my weapon.
“No!” Kathrin yelled at me in angry defeat.
“Very good,” Harbinger said after shaking her once to silence her. “Now come and give her an embrace. Something for her to remember you by.”
I cautiously walked toward him. As I stepped closer, Kathrin kicked back with her feet while simultaneously pulling at his hand. It did nothing to free her from his grasp. But in the split second he was distracted, I launched myself at him, kicking at his throat and then sending my fingers, knife-like, into the nerve cluster in his armpit. It was enough.
He dropped Kathrin to the ground.
Run, Kathrin, I thought as his arm came down across my shoulder like a tree.
While shoving me down with his massive hand, Harbinger raised his foot, about to stomp her head.
I kicked at the inside of his thigh as he pushed my head down with a giant open palm, covering almost my whole face with his hand. He stumbled backward as my kick deflected his deathblow away from Kathrin, allowing her to roll clear.
“Go!” I choked as I hit the ground.
She hesitated as Harbinger reached down and grabbed the collar of my jacket. He lifted me from the ground, one-armed, as Kathrin kneeled, seemingly frozen with indecision.
“Run!” I screamed at Kathrin a second time.
She bolted into the darkness around the parked Range Rover. The big man looked in her direction, and then, with his free hand, reached for the Desert Eagle on his hip.
I arched my back and kicked both feet up, wrapping them around his gun arm. Twisting sharply with my legs wrapped around his arm, I dislodged the weapon from his hand. It fell with a heavy clank as I continued to roll my body out.
An angry howl emanated from deep inside him, sounding more like some prehistoric beast than a man. He lifted his arm, carrying my entire body with it.
“Not the best way to say good-bye,” Harbinger growled before he slammed me into the ground, knocking all the air from my lungs.
I released my grip and tried to roll away. As if in slow motion, both of his meaty fists came crashing down on me again.
Darkness closed around me. I thought, again, Kathrin, run!
**
KATHRIN FUCHS winced in sympathetic pain as she watched Harbinger slam Scott to the ground and then pound him with his giant fists. Reluctantly, she did as Scott had commanded. She ran.
What do I do? she asked herself. She rounded the line of three Rovers stopping abruptly after turning out of the approaching soldiers’ sight.
My phone, she remembered. Scott used his to track Gaines.
She quickly doubled back and crawled on her belly until she could reach the spare tire of the lead SUV. Though terrified the backlight on her phone would be seen, she activated geo-location and quickly wedged it into the gap between the tire and the frame. She was about to look for something to secure it with when the tactical team arrived, running to join Harbinger next to Scott’s unconscious form.
Helplessness filled her as they took Scott by the legs and shoulders and began moving him toward the Rover—and her.
Stupid, stupid, Kathrin, she thought, recounting the steps that gotten her caught and forced Scott to sacrifice himself for her. After Hülya and Maurice had been safely hidden, she had left the safety of the apartment, thinking she could flank the assault team that had just burst in on Scott. The giant had lifted her off the ground and stripped her weapon from her as if she were a child. Anger bubbled in her gut—anger at Harbinger and at herself for being so careless.
When the back door of the Rover opened, Kathrin slid backward in the wet snow, shrinking from the illumination of the dome light. They tossed Scott into the backseat as if he were firewood and slammed the door closed.
The giant stepped around to her side of the vehicle. She rolled away and down the snowy embankment next to the parking area, hiding until they had gotten in and left. She felt as if her life was being ripped away from her as the taillights of the Rovers turned one by one at the corner and then sped away.
Scrambling back up the embankment, she felt her eyes begin to blur. It took several seconds for her to realize she was crying. She wiped the tears away, angrily clenching her jaw. “No,” she muttered as she ran toward the apartment to get her car keys, but the sound of sirens from approaching emergency vehicles diverted her. Instead, she ran down the street in the direction the Rovers had gone.
Benjamin, she thought—her godfather. I need to contact him.
If she were able to contact Benjamin, Mossad would be able to track the phone and send a rescue team to Scott.
No, Kathrin thought. Scott said to call Langley.
But Langley has been compromised…even Scott hadn’t trusted their communications completely.
As the conflict inside her raged, the image of Harbinger smashi
ng Scott to the ground played repeatedly in her head. She imagined all the internal damage that might have occurred from just that. It forced her into a faster pace as she sprinted past the university.
On the street, some late night partiers were returning to their dorms, drunk and chatting on the phone. She ran past them at full speed, snatching the phone from a boy’s hand.
“Sorry!” she yelled over her shoulder and then spoke into the phone. “He’ll call you back.”
She closed the phone, ending the previous call as the boys yelled and ran after her. She climbed a wall without missing a step and dropped down on the other side. She sprinted across the open commons before veering between two dorms, back out to the street half a block further down.
She looked over her shoulder to be sure they hadn’t kept up. Almost on impulse, though still debating the correct action to take, she dialed the number for the Israeli Embassy in Brussels. The phone rang once before the switchboard operator picked up. As she heard the operator’s voice, she abruptly changed her mind.
“Sorry. Wrong number,” she said to the operator and then hung up.
Damn it, Kathrin. She berated herself silently and slowed to a halt.
Looking both ways down the street, she spotted a quiet nook in the doorway of a closed store. She slipped into the shadows there and stared at the phone.
“Okay, Scott,” she muttered. “It’s your operation…I’ll do what you said.”
She dropped down to sit on her heels before activating the web browser on the phone. Once connected, she performed a quick web search before tapping the number to dial.
“Central Intelligence Agency, National Clandestine Service. This is not a secure line. How may I direct your call?” answered a crisp, professional woman’s voice on the other end.
“Nick—” she started, but she suddenly realized she didn’t know Nick’s last name. “Nick Boxdropper,” she said, reaching for any descriptive she could to relay her message.
“I’m sorry ma’am. That is not a name in our database. Please be aware that all calls are monitored and recorded for—”