The older cop gave their IDs a once-over and shook his head yes. He handed the cards back with a friendlier expression.
The rookie park police officer put his hands on his hips. “You guys know the quickest way to the best slope on Cedar Hill?”
Marat bowed slightly. “Thanks, we’ve been there. We have everything planned out.”
The older police officer thumbed his chest. “Hey, if you boys see anything unusual, find a cop. With the bullshit that been happening lately, we could use an extra pair of eyes.”
Marat smiled and winked. “If we see something suspicious, you’ll be the first to know.”
The older police officer pressed his handset button on his radio and leaned his head toward it. “All clear at Glade’s Arch.”
Marat waited for the police to turn and march away. He drew a silenced pistol and made quick work of them.
Their heads made the sound of cracking coconuts when they smacked against the hard concrete of the walkway.
“Hide them and protect the arch.”
His men leaped in motion. Marat’s big companion snatched up one man under each arm and headed toward the boulder on the side of the arch. He threw the dead weight in the shadows. The men concealed their handiwork with blemished snow and dirt.
The big man put his arm around one of his companions. “Fake an injury in the arc. We’ll use that as an excuse to prevent anyone from entering. Do you want an injury?”
The man he grabbed shook his head no and raced toward the tunnel.
Marat’s eyes crinkled, and his lips curved up. That last check-in just gave me the time I need. His expression changed when the effort to dragged the sled through the arch and wooded clearing became a reality.
Once there, he flopped down, rested a few seconds, caught his breath, and started to build. The phony chairs disassembled without incident. He struggled with the sled’s carbon fiber tubing frame parts, which were part of the undercarriage of the drone, and eventually managed to free them. Blyad! Cold must have stuck some pieces together. He dumped the cooler’s fake ice to organize the main bomb components.
During the drive to the park, Mike visualized opponents attacking him and the best method to counter attack. He went through hundreds of possibilities. Mike was as mentally primed to fight as he would be for any championship bout. He knew the stakes were higher than a martial arts title. Kim’s life was at stake.
When Kim spun the wheel at a busy intersection, Mike with stealthy precision put both of his knives in one boot for quick access.
Kim entered into a parking garage. After they had exited the car, Mike tightened his hat and adjusted his large sunglasses. He flipped the fur collar on his aviator jacket to cover his ears before giving Kim’s hand a reassuring squeeze. The warmth of her hand comforted him. “Remember, any sign of trouble, you leave.”
Kim shook her head yes.
Mike stared in her eyes reinforcing his point. “Good. Let’s go.” He gripped his cane when they entered the park. The feel of the cane’s solid wood brought confidence.
Kim’s feet shuffled in the snow. Mike kept pace with her on the left side, he kept his strongest arm and cane free to protect her.
Before they approached the arch, Mike’s arm blocked Kim’s path forward. “Those men up ahead don’t look friendly. Activate the phone.”
Kim put the battery in the burner. “Let’s find out. I’ll ditch the phone if we’re wrong.”
They approached the two men wearing ski outfits.
The big one said, “You kids want to do me a favor and turn around? My friend hurt his leg skiing, and we’re waiting for an ambulance. We don’t need an audience.”
Mike squinted and was able to discern a man lying on the ground in the middle of the arch’s tunnel. The shaft was dank and dark, in perpetual twilight. A bright white light filled the other end.
“Don’t worry. I just want to snap a few pictures of the Arch, and we’ll be on our way. We’re from Florida and these things are badass.”
The smaller skier’s voice had an edge to it. “I’m sorry, but I can’t let you do that. Our friend is in serious pain. Take your pictures elsewhere. Now!”
The larger man puffed out his chest. His hand inched toward the inside of his jacket.
Mike’s head shot in Kim’s direction. “Go.”
Kim turned to leave.
Mike knelt and pretended to tie his shoe. He raised his head to regard the men. “One quick question before we go, what does ‘To strive, to seek, to find and not to yield.’ mean?” He gripped the handles of both knives.
The large one yelled. “I know him, that’s O’Connor! The fighter!”
The men drew their guns.
“Oh shit. Mike--”
Fingers gripped his shoulder. He yelled. “Damn it, I said go!” The grip lifted, he kept his eyes on his opponents.
He had rehearsed his next attack in his mind several times on the way over. With a smooth motion, he freed both knives. He threw them at once, center mass. His imagination was better than reality.
One knife stuck and buried in the larger man’s shoulder. His arm shook, and he dropped his gun.
Mike’s injured arm affected his throw. The other blade sank deep into the smaller man’s thigh, but that did not stop him from firing his weapon.
Shot, Kim sunglasses flew off her head when it jerked to one side, she crumpled to the ground.
The smaller man dropped his gun and clasped both hands around his thigh. He fell to his knees and blankly stared at the knife sticking from his leg. A lot of blood soaked his pants.
Similarly, impaled, the larger man scowled, gripped the knife handle protruding from his shoulder, and pulled.
Kim laid next to Mike, her breathing heavy.
Mike’s anger flared. The flames started to consume him, he was losing control. Then something happened, something strange. “I have to stop him. I need to be cool headed.” Mike heard the words, realized it was his voice, but did not recall saying anything. He tapped down his anger and became cool-headed. He would eliminate this threat and take care of Kim.
Adrenaline rushed through Mike’s body. He felt a tingling in his spine, head, and heart. His chest contracted. A surge of energy flowed through his muscles.
Mike grabbed his cane with his fighting hand, stood, and stormed forward with a purpose. When he got close, he swung his cane like a baseball bat at the larger man’s head.
The man blocked the cane with his massive arm, then lunged forward with the knife he’d pulled from his shoulder. Mike jumped backward and braced the heel of his shoes against the rough ground. With his heel grounded, he executed a spinning back fist that drove into the large man’s nose.
The man’s hand covered his nose, he lowered a blood filled hand and growled. “Boo bas-turd” He lunged forward with his knife hand.
Mike anticipated the attack, moved backward, and deflected the knife with the cane. The leather fabric of the aviator jacket split open twelve inches.
Mike dodged at the last second to throw the man off-balance. He shot the butt of the cane into the man’s throat. The cane met resistance. The larger man staggered.
The knife clanked when it struck the ground. The man’s eyes bulged while his hands laced around his crushed Adam’s apple.
Stars flashed when Mike threw a sidekick to the man’s head. Pain shot through his lower back, but he remained on his feet. Barely.
The large man fell face-forward. He turned to the smaller man who laid on the concert immobile. His hands squeezing his leg. Blood pooled. Mike dismissed him as a threat.
He twisted around to check on Kim, but a body suddenly slammed into him, knocking him to the ground and crushing the breath from him.
I need air. Mike sucked in a breath, but his relief proved short-lived. Muscular arms with a vice gripped strength tightened across his throat. Shit, a combat judo choke hold. I didn’t tuck my chin. This one has to be from the damn tunnel.
The air rushed out of him
under the ruthless grip. Oxygen slowed to his brain. Mike strained to reach around and wrench the assailant’s fingers to break the hold but failed. I’m dead.
“As your life slowly ebbs away, you’ll see a bright light. Too bad you will miss the bright light we’ve arranged for your President on his big day.”
Mike’s eyelids weighed a ton; he did not have the strength to keep them open. They slid shut. A bright light appeared in the distance. I failed Kim.
A loud bang accompanied the light. The chokehold death grip relaxed, and Mike gasped for air. He sucked in another breath and forced his eyes open. The man laid next to him, flecks of bone and brain dotting his face, thin streaks of blood spiraling away from a hole in the man’s head.
Better him than me. Mike took several deep breaths and his strength grew. He crawled toward Kim and saw an Asian woman kneeling next to her, a gun in the woman’s hand. He sucked in another breath and was strong enough to speak. “Is she all right?”
The woman turned to Mike, a wallet suddenly in her hand. She opened it. “Agent Melanie Holmes, FBI, and yes, from what I can see.”
He gestured to the corpse. “Thanks for that.” Stars returned when he stood, he wobbled before walking over to Kim. Through watery eyes, he saw a streak of blood decorate her face. “You’re alive?”
“Yea, I think so.”
He took his jacket off and used it as a pillow for her head. He assessed Agent Holmes. “You’re here to arrest me?”
“Let’s put it another way and say I’m here to rescue you.”
“By putting me in prison and throwing away the key?”
“It’s not like that, I promise.”
“Well, give me a minute before you cuff me.” He leaned in and his lips caressed Kim’s bloody forehead.
Kim responded to his kiss with a smile. “Thanks.” Her eyebrows creased and lips bunched. She snatched his shirt and hung on with an energetic grasp. “Remember why we’re here?” She pushed him away. “They were guarding the entrance to the tunnel for a reason.”
He turned to Agent Holmes. “Take care of her. I’m going through that tunnel. You can cuff me later. If any of your men come, send them through.” He found his cane next to the big man. He jogged through the arch, alert for any danger.
Kim laid on the ground with her head resting on Mike’s torn aviator jacket. “Melanie.”
“Don’t speak, save your energy, and you’re welcome.”
Two minutes past and shadows crossed over them when armed officers neared. “Bob Panecko, local police SWAT. I’ve radioed for help. Sorry, we didn’t arrive sooner. We barely heard the shot.”
“The only loud shot you would have heard was mine.” Melanie pointed to the gun on the sidewalk. “Suppressors on their guns.”
One of Panecko’s men administrated first aid to the surviving comatose attacker.
They are not doing it out of love, but information. Kim’s head swiveled as sirens approached. Lots of sirens. Kim tried to yell. “Send men through that damn tunnel.”
CHAPTER 33
Bang You're Dead
Mike did not want to be out of breath when he emerged from the tunnel. The jog became a brisk stroll. Inside the arc, he searched for movement in the shadows. Not far from the exit, in a recessed cove off Cedar Hill, Mike spotted a man in a camo ski suit bending over a device. A disassembled sled, cooler, and chairs laid in pieces next to him.
He slowed his pace and watched his footfalls, he did not feel inclined to alert the man to his presence. Mike took an indirect path and stayed in the shadows. When he closed the gap, he heard a furious swarm of bees.
The noise worked in his favor. The man didn’t react until Mike’s cane struck the side of his head. The terrorist face-planted into the dirt.
Mike was done with heroic fights. The cane bent after the hit, and he inspected it for a fracture. Damn! He felt a split that followed the center grain. What else can go wrong today?
He sought the source of the buzzing. The swarm of bees was an octocopter, its blades spun furiously against the wind causing the swarming sound. The octocopter was a foot off the ground and rising slowly. It held a payload of twelve cylindrical objects. Bombs! I can’t let it in the air.
The device climbed faster. He dashed to the copter and latched on one of the spoke cylinders. The engines roared louder, the onboard electronics sent a signal to the spinning blades and attempted to stabilize. The correction caused Mike to lose his grip when a blade struck his arm. The octocopter righted itself and rose further.
Mike swung his cane’s hook and latched on. Success.
His victory was short-lived. The octocopter was pre-programed to lift, and its blades spun at full speed. The upward force of the octocopter fully extended Mike’s arms.
A sharp throbbing sensation ricocheted inside of his hurt arm. His back protested with a sharp pain. His body was one large agony center. A drop of blood splashed in his eye. All I got to do is let go. Quit and it’s over. Damn if I will. He fought the pain and gripped tighter. Two fingers of his left hand slipped off the cane. He gripped harder with his remaining hand and fingers, the cane’s hard surface bruised against the bone of his fingers.
Seconds later, the beehive sound turned into a sizzling sound. Smoke appeared in the center of the device. The rotors’ buzzing got softer. The device came toward him. He leaped out of the way. The octocopter crashed to the ground.
It overheated. I was too heavy. Mike returned to the fallen device. His heart pounded in his chest. The cane broke at the fracture. His head sought the sky. Juan, I hope you’re not mad. His right hand made the Catholic cross in honor of his friend.
He examined the device. A round black dial had ALT in large white letters on it. Altimeter?
Next to what he assumed was an altimeter was a countdown clock. During demolition school in the Marines, he was taught that this device was a failsafe. He had to stop the countdown before it stopped him or harmed others.
His instincts and training smothered his fear. He removed the paths to ground with the broken sharp edge of the cane. The digital readout went dark with thirteen seconds to spare. He looked up again. Hey, Juan did you break the cane on purpose?
He struggled to rise and stumbled toward the arch. A tight cluster of police poured out of the arc before he reached the opening.
An officer yelled. “Don’t move.”
Mike complied.
“Raise your hands. Get on your knees and intertwine your fingers behind your head.”
Mike complied again. “I have no weapons.”
Another officer ran behind Mike.
A firm grip on his wrist twisted his arm behind his back. His wound screamed in pain.
“Leave it there.” His other arm was twisted behind his back. A zip tie, zipped as it clamped his wrist together. Not the ties again.
Two officers lifted him to his feet.
“Go.” Two hands shoved him toward the arch.
“Kim?”
“Don’t worry she is being taken care of by our finest.”
Mike obeyed every command and went peacefully. Kim is safe.
After everyone grouped together on the other side of the arc, Mike, handcuffed and guarded, somehow forced himself near Kim’s stretcher. “Kim, don’t you fall asleep on me. Do you know why six is afraid of seven?”
Kim pupils appeared dilated. “It’s because seven eight nine. Give up on being a comedian. Your jokes might kill me.” She yanked his good arm’s sleeve. “Please stay by me.”
“As long as they’ll let me.”
Mike realized that they did not react to the man or device in the hidden nook on the hill. Their effort focused on him. He turned and looked for authority, found it, an older cop with sergeant stripes. “There are several bombs attached to a device on the hill close to the arc. I disarmed them.”
The Police Sergeant barked into his radio. “I want the bomb disposal unit. I mean now!”
Mike returned his attention to Kim, his voice was
soft. “I know this is a bad time, but I’m going to say it. I love you.”
“I know you do, you big idiot. I love you too.”
“I read somewhere according to Greek mythology, humans were created with four arms, four legs, and head with two faces. Zeus feared the power of love and split them into two parts. He condemned us, humans, to spend our lives searching for our other half. I am so glad I found you. You make me whole.”
“How romantic. I’m on the way to the hospital, you’re in cuffs on your way to jail, and spouting Greek mythology.”
“I needed to say this before I am taken away. Yeah, well, at least you know how I feel. We will be whole again, I promise.”
“You’re damn right we will.” She forced a smile.
Sokol’s sniper, always prepared, brought along a younger man as a spotter. The sniper assembled his weapon of choice: an SV-98 Snaiperskaya Vintovka with a glass fibre-reinforced polyamide stock with a fully adjustable cheek piece and butt plate that he snapped together in forty seconds. He shoved a .338 LAPUA Magnum bullet engraved with the number forty-eight into the chamber.
The sniper heard the police commotion on his portable police scanner, he knew his target was in the park. Wearing their winter camouflage, the two of them headed into the surrounding woods securing a perfect spot to ambush Mike.
He clenched his left eye shut and peered into the scope. Through his scope a thousand yards away, he marked Mike, cuffed, talking to a female on a stretcher. With a clear sight picture, the sniper held his breath and slowly squeezed the trigger.
At that moment, the stretcher carrying Kim leaped forward, Emergency Medical Technician pulled her toward a waiting ambulance. A police officer yanked Mike out of the way of the moving stretcher.
A loud clap of gunfire rung through the park.
The bullet with his number on it pierced Kim’s left shoulder. Mike watched in horror while blood saturated her shirt. He strained to force his way closer to her.
Two police officers flung him on the ground. They were not gentle.
I Will Not Yield Page 21