Take No Prisoners

by Gayle Wilson

“No matter how much money one has, one can always find a use for more,” Landon said calmly.

  She wondered if Griff had authorized him to make this kind of open-ended offer. Although the head of the Phoenix was said to be incredibly wealthy, she didn’t know if he would be willing or able to provide the kind of bribe she feared Abdul Rahim would require to let them go.

  Except, Landon hadn’t attempted to bargain for his own release, she realized. The offer had been made only on her behalf.

  And if you think I’m going to let you get away with that—

  “I believe I prefer to hold on to Ms. Chancellor,” Abdul Rahim said. “After all, I have a vested interest in seeing that her mission here fails.”

  “If it does, they’ll send someone else to replace me,” Grace said.

  “And are there then so many people out of favor with your employer, Ms. Chancellor?”

  He knew far more than he should. Perhaps he could have deduced that she was being punished simply by reading the American papers. That didn’t explain, however, how he knew about her former relationship with Landon, something very few people were privy to, even among those who had worked with them at the Agency during that time.

  “The State Department believes that the production and transportation of heroin from this country must be stopped. They’ll do everything in their power to see that happen.”

  “Why should anyone in your country care what we do in ours? I have given the sovereignty of this province neither to the United States nor the Afghani government. And I never shall.”

  “Heroin funds terrorism. My government has sworn to eradicate that. You may be familiar with some of the recent…enterprises they have undertaken to that end.”

  It wouldn’t help to remind him of their previous successes. Even if his ego was as huge as she suspected, he must know that he couldn’t win any kind of war with the United States.

  But maybe he can win the occasional battle…

  She wondered briefly if her death at the hands of this madman would provoke an official retaliation. Or, as Landon had suggested earlier, would people at the top of the Agency take it as cause to celebrate.

  “Eradicate terrorism, as well as all the poppies in Afghanistan? Your government has delusions of gran deur, my dear. I’m tempted to send you back to them with that message.”

  In spite of knowing he had no intention of sending her anywhere, there was a momentary surge of longing for the normality of her life before she’d been summoned to testify to the joint intelligence committees. Of course, the stress she’d endured during the last six months, worrying over her position at the Agency and her reputation, seemed ridiculous compared to the life-and-death situations she’d faced since the chopper had gone done.

  Perspective. Everything was a matter of perspective.

  “An excellent idea,” Landon said. “One that’s in everyone’s best interest.”

  “Even yours? I’m surprised, given how close you and Ms. Chancellor are, that you would say that.”

  “Ms. Chancellor has nothing to do with your feelings toward me.”

  “Nor are you a fool, Mr. James. Please don’t act like one.”

  “She’s a bureaucrat. And you’re well aware, as are the people at the CIA who sent her here, that whatever policies she initiates will have little effect on your business. After all, you operated quite efficiently under the Taliban.”

  “Because they were ignorant swine.”

  “As are those who assigned Ms. Chancellor this task,” Landon said. “Your quarrel is with them.”

  “My quarrel, as you so simplistically put it, is with you.”

  “Then let Ms. Chancellor—”

  “And there is no sweeter revenge on one’s enemy than to make him suffer vicariously.”

  The sudden silence was thick enough to smell. Or maybe that was the scent of her own fear.

  …to make him suffer vicariously. There was only one possible interpretation of that.

  “You must be aware—” Landon began again, his voice still calm, only to be cut off once more.

  “Your arguments bore me. You bore me. The first time we met, you escaped my anger. Not entirely unscathed, of course. Does she make you turn out the lights when she makes love to you now?”

  She knew Landon wouldn’t answer that. No man would. And even though their current relationship had not included the kind of intimacy Abdul Rahim suggested, she also knew from Landon’s reaction when she’d touched the patch that covered his eye, that in spite of his normal arrogance, there would be some part of him that had wondered the same thing.

  “No, she doesn’t,” Grace said. “Actually, I wonder why you would think of that. I would guess that might be a personal observation about the squeamishness of women, but then it’s an expedience that really wouldn’t work in your case, would it?”

  Since she was going to be tortured or killed to make Landon suffer, then there seemed little use in holding back her feelings about this bastard. She’d had to bite her tongue often enough with those back in Washington. And look where it had gotten her.

  “Are you hinting that you’d enjoy testing your theory, my dear? That can be arranged, I assure you. I don’t suppose Mr. James would enjoy the thought of our copulation.”

  “Nor would I,” Grace said.

  “You might be surprised.”

  The fat man seemed more amused than angered at her attempts to ridicule him. Perhaps because of all those in this room, only the three of them were fluent enough in English to follow the conversation.

  “If you know as much as you claim,” Landon said, “then you must be aware that until the last few days in this country, Ms. Chancellor and I haven’t set eyes on one another in more than seven years. Hardly the kind of relationship you believe we enjoyed.”

  “Once enjoyed,” Abdul Rahim said. “There is, however, apparently enough feeling on your part that you would travel halfway around the world to rescue her.”

  “What makes you think I came to Afghanistan for that reason?”

  “Are you suggesting there was another?”

  The slight smile Grace had noticed before was back on the thick lips. Apparently his good humor had been restored by whatever Landon was saying.

  “A friend pulled some strings in Washington so I could get back into the region. The powers that be had feared I might have some…personal agenda in coming here. A vendetta that could cause problems for their plans.”

  “How astute of them.”

  “Remarkably so, considering that they’ve had no real clue as to what was going on in this region during the last twenty years.”

  Abdul Rahim’s laughter was unforced this time, seeming to be generated by a genuine amusement rather than by any attempt to harass or belittle them. Grace didn’t understand why the dynamics had changed, but the sense of threat had definitely lessened.

  “So Ms. Chancellor’s abduction simply provided you a vehicle by which you might come back to my country for another visit. I’m flattered, I assure you.”

  “Obviously, this isn’t the situation I had envisioned.”

  “No, I should imagine not. Especially with the complication Ms. Chancellor represents.”

  “This has always been between you and me. Let her go.”

  “How chivalric. However, I find that there is a certain piquancy in having your paramour under my control. Even if you no longer have feelings for her—and frankly, with your spirited defense, I have my doubts about that—there’s a certain satisfaction in taking a woman you once made love to.”

  “I can’t imagine what that would be. She’s a woman. That’s all she ever was to me. To the U.S. Government, however, she’s far more. If you harm her, they’ll hunt you down, and you know it. The only excuse they’ll need is stored in the buildings of this very village. No one is going to question if they decided to take out a man of your reputation.”

  “They would have to find me first.”

  Landon laughed, the sound short a
nd mocking. “If they want to, they could put a rocket into your toilet. While you’re on it.”

  “Which explains their long hunt for Osama, I suppose.”

  “You aren’t Osama. There are too many people who wouldn’t mind seeing you put out of business. Your competitors. Ms. Chancellor’s replacement. The government in Kabul.”

  “That may be so, but none of them have succeeded yet.”

  “Perhaps because you haven’t yet given them an adequate reason to mount a campaign against you. Kill Grace Chancellor, and I promise you that campaign will be launched.”

  As if to punctuate the threat Landon had just made, an explosion rocked the building, to be quickly followed by others outside. After their initial shock, the tribesmen who had been seated on either side of the carpet were on their feet, weapons in hand, a babble of inquiry underlying the continued bombardment of the compound.

  Grace turned, her eyes locking on Landon’s in the midst of the hubbub. Where there had been only bleakness before, there seemed to be a gleam of satisfaction within its dark depths.

  The guard on his right had tightened his hold on the leash, but he seemed as confused about what to do as the rest. And then the voice of the man at the front of the room cut through the disorder like a scythe.

  Grace understood nothing of the commands he issued, but his forces responded immediately. Those who had been seated with their weapons began to pour out through the entrance where she and Landon had entered.

  Landon’s keeper led him to the side. The second one grabbed her arm, pulling her over beside them.

  “What the hell?” she asked as soon as she was close enough to speak to him.

  “I’ve been telling you they’re looking for you.”

  Special Forces? It had to be, she realized. And like some avenging army, they were just in the nick of time. Of course, considering everything that had gone wrong since she’d been in the country, it was about time. With all the images from the spy satellites that were available to them, she was only surprised it had taken them this long to find her.

  Abdul Rahim’s desire to get Landon had obviously led him to make a fatal error. That precisely planned ambush she’d admired would have been recorded on those pictures. Obviously someone had recognized him, maybe from his size alone. And now her government, with whose power she had attempted to comfort herself, had come after him.

  I told you that you were messing with the wrong people.

  Abdul Rahim was still issuing orders, and apparently these had to do with their disposition. They were hustled out of the building without ceremony and into the dark compound, where the ferociousness of the attack was made quickly apparent.

  A C130 gunship, affectionately known as a “Spooky,” circled overhead, a deadly barrage of firepower raining down on the village from its laser-guided armament. Even as some part of her celebrated its effectiveness as a killing machine, Grace realized that outside and in the darkness, she and Landon were as vulnerable to its weapons as were Abdul Rahim and his men.

  Chapter Sixteen

  All he needed was a chance, Landon thought as, prodded by the guns of the tribesmen, they ran across the compound. A momentary inattention on the part of his guard that would allow him to somehow get Grace out of the control of hers.

  Whatever happened now, Landon knew this would be his last chance. The last opportunity to save Grace from what Abdul Rahim had planned. The last chance to save them both. Surely to God, in the midst of this chaos—

  A shell from the C130’s howitzer struck within a few feet of Grace and her escort, close enough that it sent up a mushroom cloud of debris. While rocks and clods of dirt rained back down on all of them, Landon saw that the aftershock had hit with enough force to knock Grace to her knees. Her guard bent to drag her up, automatically raising his other arm, the one with which he held his automatic weapon, to act as a shield between him and the fallout from the explosion.

  Landon glanced behind him. The second man, who was supposed to be guarding him, was instead watching the scene playing out in front of them.

  Last chance, echoed in Landon’s brain.

  He took a couple of running steps to the side, raising his joined hands as high as he could. The second guard looked around as Landon began to move, but by then it was far too late.

  The tribesman had time to recognize that he was being attacked, but not enough to prevent the assault already in motion. When Landon’s hands reached the apex of their upward swing, he brought them down and across, slamming his lead elbow into the man’s face.

  The blow caught him in the nose, just as Landon had intended. Despite the shrieks of the village women and the rattle of the Spooky’s Gatling guns, he clearly heard bone snap.

  If he’d struck in exactly the right place, the blow should have driven that bone into the man’s brain. If he hadn’t…

  Unwilling to risk the latter, Landon grabbed the guard’s weapon with both hands, ripping it away as the man reeled backwards. He released Landon’s lead to grab at his nose.

  Knowing he couldn’t get the gun into firing position with his wrists tied together and his hands numbed by the tightness of his bonds, Landon didn’t even try to turn the weapon, but jammed the stock under the man’s raised chin. Although the guard was already falling away, Landon again felt a solid connection, the AK-47 reverberating within his leaden palms.

  Without waiting for his adversary to hit the ground, he started forward, awkwardly trying to reverse the weapon as he ran so that he could swing it like a club. By now Grace’s escort had gotten her to her feet. Despite the continuing bombardment of the compound, the man glanced back to check on his companion.

  Even in the darkness Landon could see his eyes widen as he realized the situation. Whether his shock would last long enough for Landon to close the distance between them would be too close to call.

  He completed the back swing with the weapon he’d stolen as he sprinted across the last few feet that separated him from Grace’s guard, who was frantically trying to get his own gun into firing position. Forcing out of his mind the thought of what that powerful semiautomatic would do if his adversary did manage to get it up, Landon concentrated instead on reaching the man before he could.

  A fraction of a second before the guard’s finger closed around the trigger Landon knew he’d failed. At the same instant he had reached that bitter realization, Grace lunged full-out for the muzzle of the AK-47.

  With her outstretched fingertips, she shoved the barrel aside as she fell. A stream of bullets plowed the ground almost at Landon’s feet, close enough that he could feel their impact.

  And then he was there, the stock of the weapon he carried thudding into the side of the guard’s head with a resounding crack, as if someone had broken open an overripe melon. The man went down, his finger still locked on the trigger of the AK-47, which continued to spray bullets into the air.

  For the first time since the errant shell had provided the distraction he’d been praying for, Landon had the luxury of a relatively threat-free moment to focus on Grace. Although she was lying prone, he saw no visible injury. No bloodstains marred the tunic she wore or the ground beneath her.

  He bent, preparing to help her up without putting down the weapon he’d stolen, something he was reluctant to do. That decision was suddenly taken out of his hands when it became apparent that the Spooky’s electronic surveillance equipment had detected movement in this area of the compound. The powerful Gatling guns were now churning up dirt in a line headed straight toward their position.

  He grabbed Grace’s elbow, trying to pull her to her feet. “Come on.”

  Instead of obeying, she jerked away, scrambling on her hands and knees to where the guard lay on the blood-soaked ground. She seemed to be searching his body. Whatever she was doing, Landon thought, his eyes flicking up to gauge the approaching firestorm, they didn’t have time for.

  “Run, damn it,” he screamed, grabbing her elbow and using it to jerk her up.

/>   This time she obeyed, following him as he sprinted toward the entrance to the low bunkerlike building where the guards had been taking them. He hoped Abdul Rahim’s fortifications were as invulnerable to attack as they were purported to be.

  He elbowed open the door and then waited for Grace to stumble through it. Her boots were clattering over the concrete stairs before he himself dived through, pulling the steel door closed behind him with only seconds to spare. Bullets from the C130’s guns followed, beating a tattoo up the door and across the roof.

  Panting, he followed Grace down the stairs, the semi-automatic held awkwardly in his bound hands. As he descended into the almost total blackness of the underground bunker, he began to realize that, remarkably, he was not only alive, but untouched. As for Grace…

  “Grace,” he hissed at the bottom of the stairs, unsure with whom they might be sharing the bunker.

  Instead of answering, she touched his hand, her trembling fingers wrapping around his. He closed his eyes in relief, feeling the unaccustomed sting of tears at the back of them.

  “Be still,” she whispered, leaning against him so that her lips were against his ear.

  He froze, expecting the worst. Then her fingers traced across the back of his hand until they found the leather binding his wrists. Only when he felt the strong downward pressure on it did he understand what she’d been doing when she crawled over to the guard he’d downed.

  Grace had taken the long, curved knife the tribesman had worn on his belt, something she’d obviously noticed when they were inside the fat man’s “palace.” Now she was using its razor-sharp blade to saw through his bonds.

  Like her deflection of the automatic weapon, her forethought in this was the kind of thing that might make the difference between success and failure. Literally, in this situation, between life and death.

  For someone untrained in fieldwork, her actions throughout their escape had been not only courageous but brilliant. He’d always known how bright Grace was, but he’d assumed her intellect was a kind more suited to the analysis at which she’d excelled during her years with the Agency. Now he knew she was someone he could count on in a very different type of crisis.