Blindsided (A Mitch Kearns Combat Tracker Novel Book 4)

by JT Sawyer

  She held her head in her hands and leaned against him. “I am tired of being either numb or full of rage at the world. Sometimes I wouldn’t mind disappearing off the face of the earth myself.”

  “It is the way of a fighter to endure and it becomes our second nature to the point that we forget that we were fighting for a better way of life and not merely to overcome another obstacle in our path. Anatoly led the life he was born for. And you, Devorah—you must go on living instead of surviving with your grief.” Victor looked out through the tinted windows at the mountains in the distance as his voice grew quiet. “There will never be closure on how he died but there will come a time when you wake up and it is the second thing you think about that day instead of the first. That’s when you will start to live again—to greet the sunrise without shackles and know that you can feel the ground beneath your feet once again.”

  The computers on the table began flashing and the large screen in the center gave off an audio alarm.

  “Victor, I assume you’re not expecting a delivery?” said Mitch, pointing to the monitor for the outside security camera near the alley.

  Victor and Dev sprung up and moved to the laptop. A large white truck had just increased its speed and was closing within a half-mile. It was headed straight towards the rear of the building.

  “How did they find us so fast?” said Petra.

  Dev removed the burner phone from her pocket, glancing at the single text she had received earlier from Eva, who was checking in on her. Shit, Uri must have gotten to her. No…no, that son of a bitch. She felt her throat go dry. “They have my mother. That’s the only way they could have tracked us,” she said, thrusting the phone out.

  “She will be safe for now,” Victor said. “Uri will hold onto her for leverage against you.”

  “They’re going to ram their way in—that’s smart,” yelled Mitch.

  Victor sidled over to a coffee table next to the couch. He depressed a hidden button near the right leg, causing the lid to open via hydraulic struts. Inside was a small arsenal of pistols and short-barreled rifles. He tossed an MP5 to Mitch and another one to Dev, sliding a few magazines over the floor towards them. Victor removed a Tavor Bullpup in 5.56 for himself and then thrust one into Petra’s chest as he approached.

  “The walls and floor on this level are made of three inches of reinforced steel. We are safe inside from small-arms fire so the rear entrance below will be our best choke point to kill them.” They heard the deafening roar of metal slamming into the foundation below. The floor shook and pictures tumbled off the mantle. Concrete dust began wafting up the stairs as the front of the truck came to a wrenching halt downstairs.

  Victor moved to a row of shelves beside the fireplace and shoved aside a floor-to-ceiling bookcase, revealing a three-foot-wide shaft below. “I will stay and pin them down here while the rest of you make your way into the tunnel. It will lead you outside to a storm drain a few blocks away.”

  Victor began firing controlled bursts at the four men who were climbing over the rubble on the first floor. One he struck in the neck and throat outside the protection of the body armor. His slumped body slowed the others momentarily as they tried to return fire and remove the dead man.

  Victor reached his leathery hand out to Dev, gripping her arm. “Get out of here—go to Zakynthos and finish what your father started.” He ran his fingers along her trembling cheek, staring deeply into her eyes. “If I’d had a daughter, I would have wanted her to be like you. Remember, I always loved you and still love you.”

  “Stop it!” she said, wiping away a tear from her cheek. “You are not leaving me again, Victor. Not this time. I can’t lose you—not now.”

  “Go, while there’s time. I will give these boys one hell of a fight, I promise you. You have much to do if you are to stop Uri or Israel will pay dearly in the years ahead. This is about more than you and me and your friends now.” He patted her arm then kissed her on the forehead. Then he pushed her towards the small exit behind the bookcase where Mitch was waiting.

  “Run, Devorah,” he said as he turned and delivered another burst of automatic weapons fire into the rubble-strewn room below.

  Chapter 26

  The concealed tunnel was nothing more than an old laundry chute that led to the basement. Victor had fashioned another passage that linked the room to the cobblestone storm drains that ran the length of the street outside. These had been built in the seventeen-hundreds and overlaid with cement reinforcements in recent years. The dank passageway was just large enough to squat inside and they could see the sunlight coming from an exit a hundred yards distant.

  Petra led the way, with Mitch constantly turning around to see if Dev was still following. Once they reached the spillway exit, they crawled out and made their way up to the main street and hid in a cluster of thick bushes. The sound of gunfire could still be heard in the distance near the old tavern and people were fleeing their homes in every direction.

  “We have to go back for him,” Dev shouted.

  “I saw two teams moving in on the security cams,” said Mitch. “The first was in the truck. The others—who knows. We won’t stand a chance going back now.”

  Ahead of them were clusters of one-story apartments divided up by parallel rows of narrow streets. Laundry hung off clotheslines on most balconies and remnants of trash blew around the alleyways.

  They didn’t have time after arriving to discuss an escape and evasion plan if they became separated. In the past, their objective would have been to elude their pursuers with the eventual goal of returning to Israel. Now they were adrift, uncertain of where to retreat but knowing they couldn’t stay put.

  Dev clutched her MP5 and stuck her head along the side of the shrubs. “We’ll head south from here and…” Her commands were interrupted by several rounds striking the dirt around them. They heard a staccato of gunfire coming from their left and saw three men using bounding movements as they headed towards the spillway.

  Mitch returned fire, pinning two of the men down momentarily. “Dev, you go first towards that church in the distance while we keep them nailed down here.”

  Petra and Mitch both began firing off rounds into the alley to the left long enough for Dev to sprint across the street and make her way into the shadows.

  Dev zig-zagged around another building, hoping to arc around the shooters and distract them long enough for Mitch and Petra to get away. Running down the alley, she made an abrupt left turn and smacked straight into the chest of a surly goon with a pistol in his hand. They both raised their weapons to shoot but the range was too close and he punched hers down with his barrel. Dev jammed his body against the brick wall so he couldn’t swing his pistol around. He grabbed her hair and yanked her head back.

  Dev winced and reached back, grabbing his thumb and whipping it violently in the opposite direction until she heard it snap. He recoiled to the side as she drove a hammer-fist down on his cheek then sent her knee up into his ribs. He was a thick-bodied man who seemed to absorb the torso shot and he lunged forward like a linebacker, slamming her into a pile of garbage bags. He straddled her waist and started punching her in the face. She blocked the initial barrage but caught one in the side of the ear which only served to further pulse the adrenalized rage through her veins. Dev emitted a low growl and drove her index finger into his right eye. There was no way she could afford to have a prolonged battle against a thug this big and she began trying to get out from under his weight.

  The man careened back, screaming as he held his leaking socket. Dev turned on her side, thrusting her hips up, which allowed her to wriggle out from under him. Kneeling, she drove a roundhouse kick into his kidney then leaped forward, wrapping her arm around his neck and wrenching his head backwards until she felt his cervical vertebrae separating.

  The man collapsed on the pavement, his one eye staring vacantly at the sky. Dev scurried back and grabbed her MP5 then pressed her back against the wall of a shack and examined the routes in
either direction for any hostiles. She did a quick visual inspection of her body for any injuries or blood that the adrenaline might have masked.

  The sound of gunfire from the spillway had ceased. She got up and ran down the alley and peered back towards her previous location where Mitch and Petra were at but there was no sign of them. Did they duck back into the tunnel or are they on the run somewhere? She listened for more gunfire but only heard the sounds of the locals darting through the streets away from the conflict.

  Dev reached into her jacket and removed her phone, noticing that some of the keys were damaged from the fight. She slid behind a dumpster and quickly texted Mitch that she was heading to locate her father’s old safehouse in Greece and that he and Petra should continue tracking down the source in Egypt. Damn, I hope that got through to them. She tossed it on the ground and smashed it under her heel then moved back into the alley. Her mind drifted to her mother. Dev forced away the possible fate that could befall Eva if this whole operation fell apart. She knew the only option was to push forward and locate her father’s last safehouse and any evidence there that could be used against Uri. Though she yearned with every fiber of her being to race back to Israel to rescue her mother, she knew she would be dashing any hopes of ending Uri’s grip on her world.

  She brushed a lock of hair off her cheek then began trotting east. Dev ran for at least two miles, the MP5 concealed under her coat and her shoulder blades sore from the groundfight. An hour earlier she had been in the presence of three beloved figures in her life and now she was alone, on the lam again, with no help on the way. With her legs searing, she stopped for a short break under a cluster of elm trees near a small shopping center. Dev felt the adrenaline wearing off and could sense a multitude of scrapes around her body. She pushed away the discomfort and continued moving south into the heart of the city, where she could disappear for a while and figure out how she was going to locate an obscure building on a lone Greek island.

  Chapter 27

  As the dust settled in the stairwell below his abode, Victor could make out a single figure who was still alive despite his constant barrage of gunfire. The man was hidden behind the steel back door, which had buckled into an L-shape from the impact of the truck. The fierce firefight had left Victor with a grazed shoulder but his efforts had hopefully provided Dev and the others with the precious minutes needed for escape.

  Another round of gunfire exchange caused Victor to pull back further into his living room, the magazine on his rifle running dry with his last volley of rounds. He heard the man below bolting up the mangled steps and felt a familiar sensation emerge in his gut at the close-range violence that was about to unfold. Victor yanked a damaged laptop off the desk and used it to strike the weapon hand of the stocky figure as he crested the last step. His pistol clanked down the stairwell to the ground floor.

  The man blocked the next strike with his meaty arm, smashing down the laptop with a vicious open-hand blow. Victor angled to his left, removing a serrated steak knife from the kitchen counter, his fingers deftly manipulating the blade around in a forward grip. He kept his knife hand lowered near his right hip while his left hand rose up to his chest, ready to parry any incoming strikes from the bearded mercenary who had just liberated his own blade from its belt sheath.

  Victor felt his stomach further tighten as he lowered his center of gravity, the adrenaline pulsing through his veins quickly coming under control from decades of close-quarters combat. He felt a switch inside him beginning to turn as the dormant predator he had once been awoke, though he tried to resist the darkness which was beginning to seep through his soul. It was a part of his psyche he’d hoped he had buried during his years of humanitarian work but now it became like a geyser emerging from beneath a thin crust of earth.

  The stocky man rushed forward, his blade hand executing a swift arcing slice towards Victor’s face. The older man angled off to the right, abruptly delivering a downward slash along the muscle of the man’s forearm. The figure winced and shuffled back, switching the knife to his other hand and scowling at Victor.

  “It doesn’t have to end this way,” said the old warrior in a pleading tone. “You can just walk away.”

  He saw the man’s narrow eyes begin to relax and his blade hand slightly waver. The man glanced down the stairs, weighing his options. Then he gazed at Victor’s bleeding shoulder and a smug look slid across the surly thug’s face.

  Victor saw the man’s grip constrict around his weapon and his feet settle into a boxer’s stance. Victor readied his knife, cocking it alongside his hip as he had done before in countless battles in anticipation of an imminent attack. The weight of thousands of hours of training surged to the forefront as he became a puppet in the hands of his unconscious once more, the switch inside him turning fully now as he emitted a low growl while the man rushed forward. Victor saw the incoming knife in slow-motion. He raised his left hand to parry while sliding his blade under the man’s arm and directly into the right jugular. He felt the warm sensation of his attacker’s blood spilling onto his fingers then arced the blade outward through the soft cartilage of the trachea. The man stopped suddenly, as if his boots were flash-welded to the floor. The stout man dropped his weapon, clutching his throat as his eyes darted around the room. A few seconds later, the pale figure slumped against the edge of the kitchen counter and slid to the floor.

  Victor moved up beside the lifeless body, tossing the soiled steak knife against the wall. He knelt down, placing his fingers over the young man’s eyelids and lowering them. When he finished, he sat back on the floor and glanced out to the cobalt sky beyond the window. “It didn’t have to end this way.”

  Chapter 28

  Once they had cleared the scene of the fight near Victor’s hideout, Mitch and Petra did a perimeter sweep of the area to locate Dev but to no avail. The cacophony of gunfire at Victor’s place had been too intense and they decided their best option was to gain as much time and distance from the small town as they could. Mitch had received a partial text from Dev indicating he and Petra should head to Egypt to track down the other player in the picture. Mitch surmised she was heading to the island off the coast of Greece to locate Anatoly’s last safehouse. He also knew it might be a journey she needed to make alone despite the perils.

  Mitch and Petra obtained some new garments from a backyard clothesline along with stealing two bicycles to gain some distance from Victor’s place, which was swarming with police. They eventually ditched their bikes and took a bus to the train station in Zurich, where they headed south to Rome. From there, they hopped on a small commercial flight to Egypt the next day.

  The three-hour flight to Cairo was turbulent due to the approach of a storm cell over the Mediterranean. Mitch hardly noticed while Petra grew irritated with each jolt from an air pocket as he had to constantly reposition the laptop he got from Victor. Finally, in frustration, he closed the monitor and rested his head back while quietly cussing in Hebrew.

  Petra pulled out a plastic wrapper that contained some smoked salmon he had obtained from a street vendor in Rome. He tried to choke down the leathery meat, offering some to Mitch, who waved it off with a grimace.

  “Ah, the things that you can jam down your gullet. No thanks. That stuff reminds me of the time I was in an Okinawan prison. I can still remember the guard sliding this white porcelain plate of smoked fish and rice under the bars.”

  Petra nearly choked and reached for a bottle of water tucked into the side of his seat. “Oh, wait a minute—Mitch Kearns the Boy Scout was in jail? Now, this I gotta hear.” He rolled up the package of salmon and stowed it in his jacket. “Please, do go on.”

  “Ah, hell, I was nineteen and had been in the army for a year when I went to visit a marine buddy of mine stationed in Okinawa during some R & R I had.”

  “What did you go to jail for? What was the charge?”

  Mitch looked out the window and lowered his voice. “Uhm, defiling the dead, as I recall.”

 
“What the hell?” Petra moved closer, gripping his armrests and looking at the other passengers, wondering if they had just heard the same sentence.

  “The whole night was a mess. I had been in this karaoke bar with my buddy, who had already passed out. I remember getting kicked out for singing ‘I Can’t Get No Satisfaction.’ They threw me out the back and locked the door so I wandered towards the base, figuring I’d meet up with my buddy later. The next thing I know, I wake up in the morning and see this row of nicely dressed kids walking single file past me while some Japanese cop is jabbing me in the ribs with his riot baton.”

  Petra was trying to contain his laughter while Mitch kept shaking his head with each recollection. “I guess after I left the bar, I walked across this cemetery. There were all these bottles of sake offerings lying around the graves so I just took it upon myself to enjoy some of the freebies.”

  “So off you went to prison—and rightfully so, you grave robber,” said Petra, who was wiping the tears from his eyes from laughing so hard. “How long were you there?”

  “Three days. My buddy’s father was the commander of the marine base. He heard I was in the tank and figured I should learn a lesson. He probably saved my life in more ways than one. I was living like there was no tomorrow up to that point.”

  Petra glanced around the narrow cabin then back at Mitch. “And here I thought you were as straight-laced as they came.” He pulled out his dried fish and shoved it towards Mitch again. “Sure you don’t want to try a little?” Then he pulled it back and kept chuckling while shoving another slice into his mouth.

  Mitch hadn’t seen Petra crack a smile in a long time. He realized they both needed to hear that story given how serious life had become in the past few days. They were silent for a few minutes until Petra finished the last of his expedient meal and leaned towards Mitch.

  “So, how are we going to link up with our old agency buddy Von in Cairo? I thought he was stationed somewhere in Europe from what you told me a few months back.”