by Jack Mars
He knelt behind the pulpit and angled his aim toward the dark doorway that led to the rear of the cathedral.
Any moment now.
He heard Alan chuckle lightly. “In a weird way… this is kind of nice.”
Zero blinked. “I’m not sure that’s the word I’d use for it.”
“No, I mean… us. The two of us, back together again. It’s been a long time, but it feels right.” Reidigger paused and added, “Other than the bullet wound.”
“No, that feels about right too,” Zero quipped. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“Boys,” Karina said sharply. “Perhaps we can save all this until after we’ve survived and escaped?”
“Sure,” Alan muttered.
“Sorry,” Zero added.
Silent seconds ticked by, the MP5 directed at the dark archway. He listened intently, but heard nothing—even the shouts from outside seemed to have ceased. He couldn’t help but notice that the aches and pains he’d been feeling in his limbs had subsided, dulled by adrenaline and the thrill of the fight.
Karina let out a short, frustrated sigh. “What are they waiting for?”
Zero shook his head. “I don’t know—”
The sound of glass shattering echoed through the vaulted nave. Zero spun left and right, tracking the MP5 as he quickly scanned for the source of the sound. The back door? The vestry? He saw nothing.
Karina was on her feet, gun pointed, confusion etched on her face as another window smashed elsewhere.
And then all hell broke loose.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Zero whipped the MP5 around, certain that the second crash had come from the doorway that led to the vestry, where the old cleaning lady had appeared. As his grip tightened around the barrel, there was yet another stupendous shattering—and this time he saw its source.
He watched in stunned silence as a tall stained glass window of the Virgin Mary collapsed inward with the force of a projectile. Eight-hundred-year-old glass rained across the nave floor as a green canister bounced into the pews.
Across the cathedral, a translucent portrayal of St. Peter broke with the force of another canister. There was a bright flash from each, and thick white smoke plumed from the grenades.
“Tear gas?” Alan shouted.
“No.” Zero recognized the canisters—they were M-18 smoke grenades, typically used for signaling or riot control. “Smoke!” Which means…
A muzzle flash lit like lightning in a thundercloud from within the smoke, accompanied by the deep thrum of an automatic weapon. Zero threw himself down behind the pulpit as bullets pounded the wood.
“Contact!” He heard the high-pitched whine of Alan’s automatic pistol as he returned fire into the dense cloud.
Zero held his position, waiting for a brief enough reprieve to fire back. He could hardly believe they had stooped so low as to destroy even a part of such an ancient and historic building. It’s my fault, he realized. He’d chosen this place.
“Coming in the back!” Karina shouted from somewhere in the cathedral. The chancel and altar were hazy like fog, slowly transitioning into an opaque white cloud only a few pew rows back. From somewhere in there, Karina unloaded the French carbine at the men attempting to enter through the rear entrance.
Zero dared to edge out from behind the pulpit, just enough to sight in on the MP5. He fired three-shot bursts at fifteen-degree angles, almost robotically, hoping to hit something. From within the cloud, someone yelped. Then a voice cried out in Russian: “The pulpit!”
Shit. He crouched and covered his head as a fusillade of bullets struck the wood in front of him. It wouldn’t hold for long. A thick piece near his right shoulder broke and splintered, flying past his face.
Zero leapt out from behind the pulpit, staying low to the ground and tucking into a roll. He crouched behind the altar, the table with the gold tablecloth, quickly noting that it would do absolutely nothing to shield him from bullets.
“Sorry,” he muttered to whatever power might be listening, and then he flipped the table onto its side. The candles crashed and scattered. Then he shouldered the upended table forward, using it as a shield as he slowly pushed to the edge of the chancel.
Bullets punched holes through his cover easily. Can’t stay here. He shoved the table aside, drawing fire in its direction as he vaulted the opposite way, rolling again and almost colliding right into the front row of pews.
From a few feet away, Alan sprayed a dozen rounds into the thinning cloud of smoke and then dropped back down, somehow grinning from ear to ear. “Just like old times, huh?”
“Unfortunately, yeah.” Zero dropped to his side and peered under the pews. He saw a pair of boots rapidly approaching up the center aisle. He aimed and fired off several shots, blasting out the assailant’s ankles. The man screamed and fell.
“Listen, I don’t mean to be a pain,” Reidigger said. He fired off the rest of his clip. “But I’m empty. Grab the bag, would you?”
Zero groaned, but tossed Alan the MP5. “Fine. Cover me.” He shimmied toward the chancel on his stomach, as if he was on a frozen lake, until he could reach a strap of the black duffel and pull it toward him. As he dug through it to find a spare clip, the shooting waned, pausing long enough for a voice to call out to them.
“Come on out, Zero!” The voice was male, and while he didn’t recognize the speaker, it was undoubtedly American. “It’s only a matter of time before those cops outside try to get in. You want their deaths on your hands too?”
“CIA?” Alan whispered as he swapped the MP5 for the freshly loaded pistol.
Zero shook his head. “With Kozlovsky’s people? Doubtful. More likely on loan from Harris.” They could have been Secret Service, or mercenaries like the ex-soldier unit The Division. It hardly mattered in the moment; they were there to kill him.
He jumped as the chug of a shotgun startled him, blowing a square foot out of the pew mere feet from his head. Splinters slapped at his face and arms.
He heard the thrum of the French carbine from somewhere in the dissipating smoke that still hung like a morning mist over the nave and knew that Karina was still alive. Reidigger returned fire as Zero pushed a new magazine into the MP5, and then he dug into the bag while Zero fired through the new hole the shotgun had made.
He saw shapes moving about in the haze, barely more than silhouettes popping up like targets at a carnival game and spraying bullets in his direction. There were at least four, possibly more.
“Psst.” Reidigger held up a silver palm-sized cylinder. A flash-bang.
“No,” Zero said immediately. Karina was out there somewhere; he had no idea if she’d held her position or not. “It could get her killed.”
“Sitting here and hoping for lucky shots could get us all killed,” Alan argued. “Let’s survive first and apologize later.”
Zero didn’t like it, but Alan was right. Without something to give them an advantage, they were outgunned and would run out of ammunition sooner than later. “Fine,” he said tightly.
Reidigger didn’t hesitate. He yanked the pin and tossed the stun grenade over their shoulders, into the rows of pews beyond. The two of them ducked low to the floor, squeezing their eyes shut and hands clamped over their ears.
He didn’t see the flash, but he still heard the bang, felt it deep in his chest as if someone had fired a gun right next to his ear. But he was ready for it; it didn’t have the deleterious effects it would have on their assailants. He and Alan were up in an instant, guns in hands and tracking for movement.
Zero rounded the first row of pews and dared to head up the center aisle. The man he’d shot in the ankles was lying there, his face contorted in agony as he writhed. Zero kept going, staying low, knees bent, the MP5 tight against his shoulder.
There were three others that he could see, all dazed and floored by the flash-bang. He kicked away a shotgun and then an AR-15 as Alan relieved the third of his weapon.
“Karina!” he hissed into the suddenly silent nave. “Ka
rina, where are you?!”
He didn’t hear anything… but he saw a flash of movement to his left and whipped around, barrel tracking with him. A man dashed forward from the doorway south of the altar, a pistol in his hands. As Zero pulled the trigger, the man leapt forward into the pews. The rounds hit nothing but ancient wood.
“More incoming,” Zero told Alan urgently. “Get these three secure!” The effects of the stun grenade wouldn’t last long.
He surged forward, running down the man who had dived behind the pews—and then skidded to a stop in his tracks as he heard Karina cry out from somewhere.
“Karina?!”
“Zero…” He saw her as she stood, her dark hair, her face, her arms out in front of her, the gun gone from them—and behind her, gripping a fistful of her hair and pointing the pistol at her temple, was the man he’d been gunning for. He was blond, clean-shaven, with a deep-creasing sneer as he spoke to Zero in Russian.
“Drop your weapon, or I blow her brains out.”
The MP5 was already up, but he didn’t have a clean shot on a good day, let alone the way his aim had been lately.
“Do not,” Karina said firmly. There was a small trickle of blood running down her neck from her right ear. It was as he’d feared; the flash-bang must have disoriented her long enough that the man had reached her and found her unarmed.
“Zero!” Alan hissed. Behind them, from the door to the vestry, came two more men. They stopped suddenly when they saw the standoff. Reidigger hesitated as well; both he and Zero knew that once a shot was fired, Karina was as good as dead.
“Well,” said one of the newcomers. Another American. “Looks like we came at just the right moment.”
Zero kept his aim directed forward at the Russian and Karina, but his gaze flitted over his shoulder. Reidigger had his pistol aimed at the two men in the doorway, but the three who had been blasted by the stun grenade appeared to be coming around.
They didn’t have enough guns to hold this many people off for long.
“Hey,” said the second man, “those cops aren’t going to wait forever. If the shooting’s stopped, they might try to get in here.”
“You’re right. Keep on the fat one.” The first American edged his way closer to the nearest stained glass window, several panes of which had been broken in the firefight, and pointed his weapon through it. “Here’s how this is going to go, Zero. You and your pal are going to put down your guns. Or else my Russkie friend here is going to kill the girl, and my other pal is going to kill this guy. Me, I’m going to start plugging cops. And since they think we’re CIA, all of that is going to come down on your head.”
“Don’t do it,” Karina said softly as her arms lowered to her sides.
“What’s the play here?” Alan grunted.
Zero couldn’t think straight. Any way he cut it, someone was going to get shot.
If he shot at the Russian, he might hit Karina. And they’d open fire on Alan.
But if they gave up and dropped their weapons, all three of them would undoubtedly be gunned down anyway.
“I’ll give you to the count of three,” said the American, with his assault rifle pointed out the window.
Zero’s eyebrow rose as he saw Karina’s left hand reaching for her waistband, creeping along at a snail’s pace. The Beretta. She still had it.
“Ne faites pa cela,” he told her. Don’t do it.
“One…” said the American.
Karina’s hand crept along toward the back of her pants.
“Two…”
“It was real,” she said quietly to him in French. “You and I. You know that, right?”
“Yes.” His breath caught in his throat. “But please…”
“Thr—”
Karina pushed forward suddenly, away from the Russian, and twisted her head around to wriggle free of his grip. At the same time she pulled the Beretta and whipped it around.
Zero instantly twisted his body and dropped to one knee. He fired half the magazine into the two Americans, even as their own guns roared indiscriminately.
The trio of unarmed men in the pews jumped as the shooting began. Alan jutted out his good elbow, striking the closest one in the face, and fired into all three of them.
It took all of three seconds. But when it was done, he panted as if he’d just sprinted a mile. Karina stood over the dead Russian with her back to Zero. Alan kept his aim pointed downward as if the dead men would somehow stand again. Outside the cops shouted to each other and dove for cover.
But they’d done it. A moment earlier he was certain they would all be dead, yet they’d managed to eke out a win.
“Alan?” he asked.
“I’m okay.”
“Karina?”
She turned to face him.
Blood blossomed from two entry wounds in her chest, soaking the fabric of her shirt as the color drained from her face. The Beretta fell loose from her fingers.
“I… I’m… I’m hit.”
CHAPTER THIRTY ONE
Karina’s knees buckled. Zero couldn’t feel his own legs as he rushed forward, unaware that he’d dropped the gun until he was catching her in both arms.
“It’s going to be okay,” he whispered quickly. “You’re going to be okay.” He said it over and over again, as if the mantra would make it true. “It’s going to be okay.”
She’d been shot twice, once near the navel and once higher, dangerously close to her heart. He tried to press his hand over it, but every beat pumped more blood out of the wound.
The sounds of men shouting from outside were lost to him. Or maybe it wasn’t outside; it could have been Alan shouting right in his ear for all he knew or cared.
“You’re going to be okay.”
Karina stared back at him, her eyes wide and afraid, one hand gripping his neck tightly.
“It’s going to be okay.”
Then there was another hand on his shoulder, a stronger one, forcing him to turn and look up. It was Reidigger, his face red with exertion, shouting at him: “We have to go, Zero! Now!”
He looked around. The nave was empty except for the three of them and the bodies. All of those bodies. He couldn’t let Karina just be another corpse in his wake.
Because that’s what you do. You kill, or you get people killed.
Several booming thuds echoed through the cathedral. The police were at the door, shouting through it, warning whoever was inside of their arrival.
We have to go.
“Take her.” He stood with Karina in his arms.
“Zero, we can’t—”
“Just take her!” he shouted in Reidigger’s face. Alan relented, slinging Karina’s arm over his good shoulder. They both groaned in pain as he held her up.
He glanced around quickly. Where…? There. The AR-15, lying on the floor of the church. He snapped it up and fired several shots at the closed door of the church. The police on the other side shouted and scattered.
“Back door.” Zero strode quickly toward the rear exit, pausing only to grab up the black duffel bag and sling it over his shoulder. He led the way with Alan and Karina limping along behind him down a short dark corridor to an old wooden door. He rooted around in the bag, knowing that Alan would have brought…
A-ha. A fragmentation grenade.
“Christ, Zero, what are you going to…?”
Before Alan could finish the question, Zero yanked the pin and released the lever. He pushed the back door open just a few inches and tossed the grenade out. Then he slammed the door shut and waited.
The explosion rocked the foundation and shook dust loose from the ceiling, but Zero didn’t flinch. He shoved the door open again and stepped out into a plume of dark smoke, the assault rifle to his shoulder.
Right. Two men stood near an SUV, armed but reeling from the grenade. He took them out quickly with two squeezes of the trigger.
“Get her in the back,” he told Reidigger as he spun to check his six. A gun fired as he did; a bullet graz
ed his arm, tearing the flesh of his bicep, but he barely felt it. Up. The shooter was on the balcony of the building behind the cathedral. Zero fired three shots into him and the man tumbled forward, plummeting to the street below.
Shouts. Police came running around the corner at the sound of the explosion. Zero dug into the bag and pulled out another grenade—a second flash-bang—and lobbed it at them. They split off in a hurry as the stun grenade exploded.
Alan was already behind the wheel as Zero jumped into the back seat with Karina. They sped off before the door was fully closed.
Karina lay on her back, hissing breaths through clenched teeth. “Hnnn… hnnn… hnnn…” Her dark eyes met his. “Hold… hold my…”
He gripped her hand tightly as he stared back desperately. “Alan, we need a hospital!”
“Zero.” His voice was eerily calm for someone driving sixty-five miles an hour through a downtown area, swerving around traffic. “You know I love you, and I would do just about anything for you. But you need to listen to me. There’s nothing we can do for her.”
“Alan, she’s dying!”
“I know,” he replied slowly. “So does she. We need you to know it.”
He looked down into Karina’s face, searching her eyes. She nodded once tremulously. “He… he’s right,” she said breathlessly. The SUV bounced over a rut in the road and she cried out.
“Dammit,” Alan muttered. A black car was coming up on them fast. “Hang on.” He swerved out of the lane, letting the car come up alongside them. Zero saw the window rolling down, a man leaning out with a gun—
Alan wrenched the wheel, steering the SUV into them. They pushed the car right off the road and sent it crashing through a storefront.
Karina’s other hand reached for him, gripping the back of Zero’s neck. “Listen,” she said in a hoarse, ragged whisper. “Listen to me. Take… take the phone.”
“What?” He frowned as he looked down at the rectangular lump in the front pocket of her jeans. The blood from her wounds had fully soaked the front of her shirt, down to the hem of the pants. He reached for it and pulled out the small black burner phone. “But…”