The Expediter

by David Hagberg

  Lavrov grinned.

  “Find out if your people are in place yet.”

  Lavrov spoke into his lapel mike. “Oleg, have you reached the clearing yet?”

  “Nyet, but we’re close.”

  Minoru heard the transmission in his own headset, but he preferred that Lavrov give them the orders. They had worked with him before and they trusted his judgment. “As soon as they’re in position tell them to hold up until you give them the word to go in.”

  Lavrov relayed the message.

  “Will do.”

  Minoru waited for a moment, blackened his face with camouflage salve, then took his pistol out of his pocket. “No one leaves here alive tonight.”

  “Except us,” Lavrov said, blackening his face and taking out his gun.

  “That’s right, so take care where you shoot.”

  “That’s goes for you as well. I want to live not only to spend my money, but to earn more from Alexandar. I’ll do whatever it takes to become a multimillionaire.”

  “You’ll be one after we’re done here,” Minoru promised, and they moved out of the woods and trotted toward the house.

  The evening was very nearly silent, only the far-off screech of some night hunting bird, and their own soft footfalls on the grass to disturb the peace for the moment. But that would soon change, and Minoru found that he was looking forward to the coming action. He had always been a man of supreme patience. Like Turov he practiced Bushido, which taught endurance of mind and body. But when the time came to kill, the blood in his veins sang and he was truly alive.

  Following the colonel’s briefing he expected that Kirk McGarvey was a man of a similar stripe, and that fact would make tonight’s work all the more enjoyable.

  They made their way past the back of the empty horse barn, and had started the last forty meters to the house when Oleg’s voice came over the headset.

  “We’re above the house just now.”

  “Hold up there,” Lavrov ordered.

  “Is something wrong?”

  “Nyet. We’re checking something out on the west side of the house. I’ll tell you when you can come in.”

  “If they’ve posted a lookout in one of the upstairs rooms we’ll be spotted the instant we move out into the open, unless you’ve started your diversion.”

  Lavrov glanced at Minoru who nodded.

  “That’s exactly what we’re up to. Standby.”

  “Roger.”

  A few meters from the house, Minoru could see that the French doors were slightly ajar, the billowy curtains moving in the slight breeze, and he heard voices, one of them a man’s raised in anger.

  He motioned for Lavrov to go around to the front of the house to cover the SUV and the main entrance while he cautiously approached the French doors. Before he opened fire he wanted to know who was inside and what they were talking about.

  SEVENTY–NINE

  In the study, McGarvey was perched on the edge of the desk, McCann staring at him with extreme contempt, a thin line of spittle at the corner of his mouth.

  “You and Rencke, that freak friend of yours, can’t prove a thing. You won’t ever come up with enough evidence to take this to a court of law, and I don’t think Dick will even have the guts to fire me.”

  McGarvey shrugged. “You know what I did for a living, Howard. Maybe I don’t care if you go to jail. Maybe I’ll just shoot you right now and save us all a big headache.”

  “You wouldn’t,” McCann said, his bluster beginning to fade.

  “Don’t push me, Howard. I don’t like sons of bitches who sell out their country no matter the consequences. If the Chinese try to take North Korea down a lot of people will die out there. Did you consider that bit of blowback, or didn’t you give a shit?”

  A range of emotions played across McCann’s round face. Suddenly he stepped aside and reached into his left coat pocket and started to withdraw a second pistol, this one a much heavier weapon.

  Todd fired one shot, catching the DDO in the shoulder shoving him backward against the bookshelves.

  Elizabeth appeared at the doorway. “We have company,” she said softly, glancing at McCann’s body. “It was him?”

  “Yeah,” McGarvey said. “How many?”

  “Four of them coming down the hill from the rear. Otto’s called for help.”

  “Cut the light in the living room,” McGarvey told her, “and get back upstairs.”

  She disappeared down the corridor and Todd went over to the study light and switched it off.

  EIGHTY

  Minoru had heard everything, including the second man besides McGarvey, the woman, obviously an American, warning that four men were coming from the back, and that a man named Otto had already called for help. He hesitated for just a moment, angry that Lavrov’s men had stupidly started their attack before the order had been given, and that more people were inside the house than just McGarvey, the Korean woman, and Daniel.

  He’d taken out two of the spare magazines, and the moment the lights went out he reached around the corner and fired all fifteen rounds into the study.

  Almost immediately Lavrov began firing into the house from the front, and the four Russian operators opened fire with their AKs from the rear.

  Minoru ejected the spent magazine from his pistol, rammed one of the spares into the handle, charged the weapon, and unloaded another fifteen rounds as fast as he could pull them inside the study before he fell back out of the line of possible fire from inside, reloading for the second time.

  Gunfire from the rear of the house was very nearly continuous, but Lavrov had stopped, realizing that shooting indiscriminately without clear targets was just wasting ammunition.

  No one was returning fire from inside the house. At least three people were in the study, including Daniel and McGarvey, and Minoru was realist enough to understand that he might have taken down one or perhaps two, but not all of them. If it were McGarvey still alive inside it would explain why they were disciplined enough not to shoot at something they couldn’t see. In that case tonight’s assignment just got tougher.

  “Cease fire,” Minoru spoke softly into his mike.

  If anything the AK gunfire at the rear of the house intensified, and a moment later Lavrov’s voice came over Minoru’s headset.

  “Cease fire, immediately. Oleg, do you copy?”

  The gunfire raggedly came to an end.

  “We’re going in,” Minoru said, momentarily turning away from the open French doors in case someone was just inside listening. “Standby.”

  The night was silent again, and Minoru strained to listen for a sound from inside the house. Any kind of a sound. But there was nothing.

  “Mr. McGarvey,” he called. “Can you hear me?”

  No one answered.

  “Send Huk Kim out to us, along with Daniel, the man who just arrived, and we will leave you and your friends in peace. We only came for them, no one else. You have my word.”

  “Do you want me to disable the SUV?” Lavrov’s voice came into his earpiece.

  “Standby.”

  “Roger.”

  “Your last chance, Mr. McGarvey. Send them, or their bodies, out and we will leave.”

  EIGHTY–ONE

  McCann had taken two more hits, one in the center of his chest and the other in the bridge of his nose. Todd bent over him and felt for a pulse. He looked up and shook his head.

  The shooting had stopped for now but McGarvey figured that the cease-fire wouldn’t last much longer. They were outnumbered and outgunned. Liz had counted four at the rear of the house, armed with AKs, plus one just outside the study and at least one out front, armed with handguns. The last thing Turov’s people would expect was a counterattack.

  McGarvey motioned for Todd to go upstairs, and his son-in-law straightened up and cautiously checked out the corridor, before he gave the all clear.

  “You needn’t die this evening, Mr. McGarvey,” the man from just outside the French doors called softly. />
  Todd slipped out into the hall and silently made his way to the stairs, McGarvey, keeping an eye on the front door, right behind him.

  Elizabeth, a pistol in her left hand, was waiting for them at the door to one of the back bedrooms. Blood seeped from a wound in her right arm, which she held to her chest.

  “Christ, you’ve been hurt,” Todd whispered urgently and he went to her.

  “I’ll be okay, sweetheart,” she said. She turned to her father. “What about McCann?”

  “He’s dead,” McGarvey told her. “Where are Otto and Kim?”

  “Watching the driveway from the master bedroom. He’s got an old military .45, but he’s all jazzed up and I’m afraid he’s going to have an accident and shoot himself in the foot. What do you want to do?”

  “We’ll never be able to hold out long enough for help to get here, so I’m going out the bathroom window on the east side and see if I can even up the odds a little. We don’t stand a chance against those guys with the AKs in the back,” McGarvey told them.

  “I’m going with you,” Todd said.

  “Stay here, because the other two will be coming up the stairs.”

  “We can handle them up here by ourselves if we don’t have to watch our backs,” Liz said. She was fiercely determined, and McGarvey was proud of her and frightened for her at the same time. But she was a highly trained Company field officer, and she knew what she was doing.

  He pulled out McCann’s PSM pistol. “Give this to Otto and let Kim have the .45, she’s a better shot.”

  “Do you trust her?” Liz asked, taking the small gun.

  “We don’t have any choice—”

  Just then the firing started again from the back of the house, the heavy Kalashnikov rounds smashing windows and easily penetrating the walls.

  They all ducked down, plaster and wood chips flying all over the place.

  “Watch yourself, sweetheart,” McGarvey said, and he and Todd raced to the large bathroom at the end of the corridor, unlocked the broad window above the Jacuzzi tub, and shoved it open.

  Pistol fire came from the front of the house and outside the study as McGarvey holstered his weapon then levered himself out the window where he hung for just a moment before dropping ten feet to the ground. He pulled out his gun and quickly moved to the back corner of the house as Todd dropped down from the bathroom and joined him.

  McGarvey looked around the corner long enough to spot four figures dressed all in black, directing a continuous stream of 7.62 mm × 39 rounds slag into the upstairs of the house.

  “I’ll take the farthest two,” he told Todd. “But get ready to move smartly when they realize what’s going on.”

  “Right,” Todd replied tightly, the fifteen-round SIG-Sauer P226 that he preferred over the more accurate Wilson at the ready.

  McGarvey, a spare magazine in his left hand, raised the pistol in his right and stepped around the corner, leaving enough elbow room for Todd to join him, and both of them calmly began firing, one shot after the other in rapid succession as if they were on a simulated live tactical situation at the Farm.

  One of McGarvey’s targets went down immediately as did one of Todd’s, but the attackers were professionals who immediately understood that they were taking fire from their right, and they switched aim, diving for cover as they opened fire.

  Todd took a grazing hit in his left side as he and McGarvey ducked back around the corner. “Shit,” he grunted

  “You okay?” McGarvey demanded, reloading his pistol.

  “I’ll live,” Todd replied, pissed off at himself that he had brought only one of the attackers down and had taken a hit himself. “What now? They’ll fan out and be coming around the corner any second.”

  “Expecting us to be hauling ass for the front of the house to get out of their way,” McGarvey said. He hurried ten feet along the side of the house then dropped to a prone position.

  Todd was grinning when he joined his father-in-law, dropping to the ground a few feet away and slamming a fresh magazine into the SIG’s handle.

  “We’ll only have the first second or two before they figure out that they’ve been had,” McGarvey warned.

  “They’re good,” Todd said.

  “Yup, but we’re better, and they’re in a hurry.”

  One of the black-clad shooters cautiously peered around the corner of the house for just an instant then ducked back out of sight. He said something in Russian to the other man, not bothering to keep his voice low. Evidently he’d not spotted the two figures lying on the ground no more than ten feet away.

  He came around the corner, the second man right behind him, and before either of them knew what was happening McGarvey and Todd opened fire, dropping both of them.

  “Four down, two to go,” McGarvey said, getting to his feet. The firing at the front and opposite side of the house had stopped, the night deathly silent again.

  “What now?” Todd asked.

  “Go around back and force the kitchen door. Soon as you’re clear I’ll go around front to take care of whoever it was knocking at our door,” McGarvey said. “But watch yourself, son.”

  “You too, Pop,” Todd said, and McGarvey winced. He hated the word.

  EIGHTY-TWO

  Minoru stood over the body in the study. It wasn’t McGarvey so he had to assume it was Daniel. The man was dead, at least that part of the assignment had gone as planned. But McGarvey had evidently retreated to the second floor.

  The AK fire from the back had ceased, and he thought he’d heard the small pops of perhaps two handguns before there was silence.

  He bent down and retrieved the SUV’s keys from Daniel’s coat pocket. “Valeri,” he spoke softly into his lapel mike.

  “Here.”

  “What’s your position?”

  “I’m in front.”

  “Standby, I’m coming out,” Minoru said. He stepped over the body, left the study through the French doors, and hurried around front to where Lavrov was flattened against the wall beside the open door.

  The man was jumpy and when Minoru came around the corner he spun around and raised his pistol.

  “Get a hold of yourself,” Minoru told him sternly. “Have you any contact with Oleg or the others?”

  “No, and I say we get out of here right now,” Lavrov blurted and it was obvious he was spooked.

  “Daniel’s down in the study and we have only two targets remaining. We can get this taken care of and be away in the next ten minutes if your keep your wits.”

  “How do you want to play this?”

  “They’re all upstairs. We’ll go in, lay down a line of fire, and rush them.”

  Lavrov was skeptical, but he nodded. “You’ll be right there with me, I’m not doing this alone.”

  “At your side,” Minoru assured him.

  Lavrov rolled left through the door, and moved fast across the stair hall, Minoru right behind him.

  What sounded like breaking glass came from the rear of the house. “Clear in back,” a man’s voice called.

  “Clear in front,” another man called from just behind them on the porch. It was McGarvey. Minoru recognized the voice.

  “Upstairs right now,” he whispered urgently to Lavrov. “No matter what happens, keep firing, I’ll take care of the two down here.”

  Lavrov hesitated only an instant before he opened fire and charged up the stairs.

  Minoru turned and sprinted down the corridor back to the study, ducking through the door and hiding himself around the corner as the shooting upstairs intensified. Someone was firing back at Lavrov, and a woman cried out in Korean.

  A tall, husky man, holding what appeared to be a boxy SIG-Sauer, hurried from the back, passing the study door with only a glance inside, and then was gone.

  “Upstairs,” McGarvey said urgently.

  “Me first,” the other man replied. “It’s my wife up there.”

  “Watch yourself, for Christ’s sake.”

  Minoru knew that
the odds had changed against him, but this time it was because of faulty intel from Turov. Daniel was dead and Lavrov might be getting unlucky upstairs with the woman.

  Time to go.

  He crossed the study, slipped outside, and cautiously walked around front and got behind the wheel of the Lexus. The firing inside the house had stopped for the moment, but it was unlikely that anyone would be paying any attention to the front.

  Starting the car, he slammed it into gear and headed back up to the highway. Help was on its way, and if the authorities were looking for any vehicle it would be this one. But no one knew about the van parked up in the woods.

  EIGHTY-THREE

  Rencke was down in the corridor but conscious, blood coming from a bad wound in his side, and Todd reached him as they heard the SUV start up and drive off. “Rats deserting the sinking ship,” Otto quipped.

  A few feet beyond him, Kim lay on her back, her eyes open, McCann’s PSM pistol still gripped in her right hand. She had been shot in the forehead

  “Where is he?” Todd asked, keeping his voice low.

  “Somewhere back there,” Rencke said. He looked up at McGarvey. “Sorry, Mac. I don’t think I did such a hot job.”

  “Liz?” Todd said.

  “Go, but be careful.”

  Todd jumped up and cautiously moved down the corridor toward the bedroom where Liz had been keeping a lookout, as McGarvey knelt down beside his old friend and looked at the wound. It was leaking a pale fluid as well as blood.

  “Hurts like hell, kemo sabe.”

  “I bet it does,” McGarvey said. “I think he got a piece of one of your kidneys.”

  “Not my liver?”

  “Wrong place,” McGarvey told him. He moved Otto’s left hand to the wound. “Press down, and keep pressing. We’ll get you an ambulance.”

  “I don’t want to die, Mac. Honest injun.”

  A deep black rage threatened to block McGarvey’s sanity, but he managed to keep himself under control and he smiled. “Not a chance. Louise would never forgive me. Neither would Katy.”