Special Forces: The Spy

by Cindy Dees

  Black stared hard at her. Recognition dawned in his eyes. “How did you escape...and get all the way over here... Who are you?”

  “Later,” she bit out. “Right now, we’ve got to get you out of Iran. Your wife is in a safe house with the FBI guarding her, and she’d very much like to see you.”

  “Right, then,” Black mumbled. “What are we waiting for?”

  Everybody laughed and turned for the exit.

  The young man at the cash register stared at them suspiciously until Torsten tossed a fat wad of bills across the counter on the way past. Avidly, the young man turned his attention to counting it.

  It was awkward as hell climbing onto a motorcycle in a tight pencil skirt, and Piper had to hitch the stupid thing practically up to her hips. They’d better get to the airport soon because someone was sure to arrest them fast for this lewd display of legs.

  They raced up to the guard shack where crews for the air show could access the flight ramp directly, bypassing the terminal on the far side of the airfield. The three women leaped off the motorcycles and yanked their skirts down hastily. Then, as a group, they approached the guard shack on foot with their credentials in hand.

  The guard checked them off on a clipboard. Black had been given Torsten’s credentials and stepped through to the other side of the shack with Zane and Piper, while the guard hunted through the clipboard in search of Torsten’s new fake name.

  “I’m sorry. You’re not on the list,” the guard announced.

  Torsten frowned. “I’ve been back and forth through this checkpoint a half-dozen times. Hell, son, I remember you. Don’t you remember me? I’m the guy who brought in the coffee and box of pastries yesterday morning.”

  “Oh, yes! That was you!” the guard exclaimed.

  “Just write my name down, and when the next list of air crew members is printed up, add me to it. It was obviously a clerical oversight.”

  Piper was impressed to death by how casual and calm Torsten was. Not even the slightest hint of tension was visible in his stance or demeanor.

  The guard waved Torsten through, and Zane breathed beside her, “Damn, he’s good.”

  The group started the long walk across the ramp toward their ride out of here.

  Another plane was just pulling in and parking, and Piper idly watched it as the steps lowered and a pair of men, acting a lot like security guards, jogged out and took positions on either side of the steps. A third man stepped into the doorway, and Piper gasped. Her footsteps slowed, and the others pulled ahead of her.

  Zane, who’d kept pace beside her, glanced at her quickly. “What’s up?” he asked out of the side of his mouth.

  “Is that Abu Haddad?” she muttered back without moving her lips.

  Zane glanced toward the new arrival and swore under his breath. “The mission is to get Black out of here.”

  “The jets flown in for the air show were granted diplomatic status. As soon as Black’s on our jet, he’s in Swiss territory and can’t be touched,” she retorted. “We can’t get this close to Haddad and let him get away.”

  “Torsten will kill you.”

  “He’ll forgive me if I take out Abu Haddad. He seriously hates that guy.”

  Ahead of them, Black jogged up the steps of their Swiss jet and Torsten waved for them to catch up.

  “Do you still have the bag of gear?” she asked quickly.

  “Yes.”

  “Come with me,” Piper muttered, making a rapid decision.

  “This is crazy,” Zane warned.

  “Crazy is my middle name.”

  “So I heard.”

  “We’ll never get another chance like this. And isn’t this what we’ve both trained for? To capitalize on opportunities that come our way?”

  “That interpretation of our missions is open to debate—”

  “I went along with your kidnapping. You need to go along with this for me.”

  “That’s a low blow,” he muttered.

  “I’m right and you know it.”

  Zane huffed and then nodded tersely. She veered to the left, with him on her heels. They paused to peer under the nose of a low-slung business jet.

  Three pairs of male legs were striding away from them, heading in the general direction of a big white hangar at the edge of the tarmac.

  “C’mon,” she called over her shoulder to Zane, taking off running herself, swinging wide of Haddad and his men.

  She spied a maintenance pickup truck parked beside another plane and headed for it. She ran up to the driver’s window and looked in. Yes. The keys were in the ignition. She and Zane hopped in, and she drove as fast as she dared across the open space between the planes and the hangars. She veered between two hangars and raced around to the back of the one Haddad and his men were approaching.

  While she drove, Zane emptied the bag, slamming magazines into both assault weapons and laying out Piper’s utility belt. She stopped the truck, snatched the keys out of the ignition, grabbed the gun and belt, and took off running after Zane, who was already racing for the man-sized entrance door.

  He eased the door open as she swung into position behind him. Moving low and fast, he spun right, leaving her to spin left. They were in an office with a big window looking out into the hangar.

  Two limousines with dark windows were parked off to the left side, and a sleek jet took up the right side of the hangar. Along the left wall was a second-story metal loft housing shelves full of tools and aircraft parts.

  As Haddad and his guards stepped into the cavernous shadows, a half-dozen men emerged from the limos, and four more exited the jet.

  Zane swore under his breath. He must recognize them. Piper didn’t know any, but this had to be some insanely high-powered meeting.

  Haddad walked up to the group of men, shaking hands with several. The others, obviously guards, fanned out around them in a loose circle.

  Zane ducked down below the windowsill and Piper knelt beside him. “We’re badly outgunned here,” he muttered. “What’s the plan?”

  “Take out Haddad and run like hell?” she suggested.

  “The other men he’s meeting with are a who’s who of terrorists, arms dealers and criminals. We need to take out the whole bunch or we won’t have made any difference at all.”

  She thought fast. “We’ll have to split up. You tell me which targets are mine and I’ll make my way to that platform on the left. It looks like there’s a staircase up to it from an office. You stay here. Take your shots and then head back to the truck and get out of here.” She passed the keys to him.

  “I can’t leave you behind!” he exclaimed under his breath.

  “Either I get off my kill shots and make it off that platform to join you, or I die,” she said matter-of-factly. “I’ll take the five men nearest the jet. You take the others.”

  “I don’t like this. Let’s just leave. We can have the agency’s eyes in the sky track Haddad after he leaves this place.”

  “This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and you know it,” she whispered back. “Would your bosses deem the loss of two American agents’ lives worth the trade-off of killing all the men in there?” she challenged.

  Zane huffed. “Yes.” He paused and then said grimly, “But I’m taking the platform. You stay here with the easy egress.”

  “But—”

  “I’m not arguing with you. That’s my final take-it-or-leave-it offer.”

  It was her turn to huff. “Fine. Go.”

  “Give me three minutes to get into position and then fire at will. And, Piper?”

  “Yes?”

  He kissed her hard and fast, and then raced over to the doorway, stopping only long enough to say, “Good hunting. I love you.”

  She stared at the door in shock as Zane left the office the way they’d come in.

&nbs
p; He loved her? What in the hell? Why on earth would he drop that bomb on her here and now? The only possible explanation was that he expected to die in the next few minutes.

  No way did he get to make a declaration like that and then die! The big jerk hadn’t even given her a chance to tell him she loved him back! Irritation rushed through her, along with furious determination to see to it that both of them got out of this alive so she could return the favor.

  Swearing in a continuous stream under her breath at Zane, she moved stealthily into position by the window. She would take two quick shots from this corner of the window, and then would move to the other side for the next shots. The window was a good eight feet across and she calculated distances and angles from both spots as she waited for Zane to get into position. Using a glass cutter, she carefully and quietly scribed two small circles in the glass. Her first shots at each position should blow out the pieces of cut glass without shattering the whole window. In theory.

  Zane should be past the long hallway behind several more offices and on his way upstairs soon. She watched the metal staircase like a hawk and caught the barest hint of movement at the top of the steps. Dang, he was smooth. She lost sight of Zane as he worked his way into the stacks of spare parts. Her watch said he had one more minute to get into position.

  She checked over her weapon quickly and then settled into her first shooting position, emptying her mind of everything but her targets and her weapons.

  He loved her?

  Well, she loved him, too—

  Stop. Focus.

  And then she inhaled, counted to four and exhaled slowly.

  Showtime.

  Chapter 19

  Tessa jumped as Torsten barked without warning, practically in her ear, “Where in the hell are Zane and Piper running off to?”

  Torsten leaned across her, staring out the windows of the jet, apparently trying to spot his operative and the CIA liaison, who’d just gone AWOL without warning.

  “She must have seen something,” Tessa answered.

  “But what?” Torsten demanded. “We have to get Black out of here before the Iranians decide to cause an international incident and storm a Swiss-flagged aircraft.”

  “It must be important or she wouldn’t have run off,” Rebel offered. “And the Iranians have no idea where Black is right now. We made a clean getaway. It’ll take them hours to sort out where we went, even assuming they do have full closed-circuit television coverage of downtown Tehran. Which I highly doubt.”

  Torsten straightened to his full height and glared at both women. “It is unacceptable to go off script in the middle of a freaking operation.”

  Tessa replied gently, “Which means it must be a matter of life and death, or she and Zane wouldn’t have taken off like that.”

  Her boss moved over to another window to stare out, grumbling, “You Medusas are going to be the death of me yet.”

  He sounded ticked off enough that Tessa refrained from a snappy comeback.

  “Son of a bitch,” Torsten grunted. “There they are. Driving across the damned ramp in a truck like bats out of hell.” He whipped around and pointed a finger at Black. “You. Don’t move a muscle. You’re a dead man if you set foot off this jet. Understood?”

  “Um, yes,” the engineer said nervously.

  Torsten snapped at Tessa and Rebel. “Gear up, you two.” He strode forward and poked his head into the cockpit. “If you gentlemen see anyone except me and my teammates approaching this jet, taxi out and take off. Immediately.”

  “We can’t just take off. We have to get clearance first—” the copilot started.

  Torsten cut him off. “You’ll die if you don’t get the hell out of here. Use this jet like a weapon, get to the runway and get airborne at all costs. Do you understand?”

  The captain replied crisply, “I’m ex-navy. I hear you loud and clear.”

  Torsten grabbed one of the canvas bags of weaponry and ran down the plane’s steps. Tessa and Rebel were close on his heels with bags of their own. He said tersely, “Last I saw, Piper and Zane were driving toward that big white hangar.”

  Tessa peered where he pointed. “You mean the one with all the security guards coming out of it right now to surround it?”

  Torsten swore again.

  “The guards don’t look alarmed, at any rate,” she reported.

  Rebel spoke up. “There’s a luggage carrier off to our right. What if you drive that, boss, while Tessa and I hide in the back behind the curtains?”

  “Done,” Torsten replied. Quickly, he stripped off his pilot’s uniform coat, leaving him wearing a white shirt and black slacks.

  While he hot-wired the tug vehicle, Tessa and Rebel hid themselves in the covered luggage cart, carefully pulling the curtains closed and then quickly unpacking guns and the last of their concussion grenades. The luggage carrier lurched into movement.

  “Here we go,” Tessa muttered. “Charging into battle at a solid five miles per hour, wearing skirts and heels.”

  “And sassy hats,” Rebel added.

  “Torsten did say we could kill anyone who messed with the hats,” Tessa retorted.

  “Game on.”

  They traded grins, and then they both picked up weapons and put on their game faces.

  * * *

  Piper didn’t even have to think about which target to choose first. Haddad. The bastard had slipped through the Medusas’ grasp once. No way was he doing it again. She aimed at his head, going for the kill shot. All the weapons provided for the Medusas would have been precisely tuned to fire true, so she would aim right at the middle of Haddad’s face.

  Her watch said Zane had ten more seconds to get into position and commence firing. She placed her eye on the rubber cup of the sight, counted down the remaining time in her head and exhaled. Three. Two. One.

  Bang-bang.

  Her shot rang out at almost the exact same moment Zane’s did. Haddad dropped to the ground, a fine red mist hanging in the air where his face had just been. She’d hit him. Whether he was dead or playing possum, though, she had no way of knowing.

  Men jumped all over the place, shouting and diving for cover, which she’d expected and anticipated. One of her targets dived behind a limo, taking cover from Zane, but still a clear shot for her. She exhaled and fired again.

  Two down.

  But then the security guards started shooting back. The window in front of her shattered, and she spun away, taking cover behind an old-fashioned metal desk. Rounds pinged off of it.

  She slipped around the end of the desk and moved to the other firing position. She spied a target clambering into the plane, and then going limp on the steps. Zane must’ve shot him. She took aim at the man trying to climb over the body and shot again.

  A pair of security guards took off running toward her.

  Well, damn.

  She took aim at one and shot him. He doubled over like he’d taken a bullet but then continued running.

  She shot twice at the second guard, who staggered but also kept coming. New plan. She had to retreat from the office.

  Grabbing her spare magazines of ammo, she flung the bag over her shoulder and ran out of the office, closing the door behind her. Darting down the hall, she tried a door. Locked.

  Sprinting on, she tried the next door. And the next. Finally, an unlocked door. She spun inside, caught her breath for a second and then cracked it open just far enough to point her muzzle down the hall and see to aim.

  The guards burst out into the hallway. She fired quickly, sending nearly a dozen rounds at them in a burst.

  One man slid down the wall to sit motionless on the floor, while the other cried out and retreated into the office. But she’d seen enough blood from the second guy to know he wasn’t going to be chasing after her anytime soon.

  This office had no window into the
hangar. Checking the hallway quickly, she darted out and continued running down it. From inside the hangar, she heard car engines starting.

  Veering into the next unlocked office, she was relieved to spy a window, and rushed over to it. She was just in time to see a concussion grenade explode directly in front of the first limo. Zane must have thrown that.

  She also spied guards shooting up at the second-floor platform where Zane was trapped.

  Oh, no, you don’t kill the man I love.

  Using the butt of her weapon, she knocked out the window glass and dropped into a firing crouch, spraying the backs of the shooting guards with a burst of lead. She was going through ammo fast, but this would all be over in the next minute. There was no use conserving ammo.

  A power unit of some kind started to make noise from the jet, and she took aim at the tires, shooting out both nose tires and one set of main tires before returning her aim to the men, most of whom who were running around the hangar like panicked chickens.

  What they were trying to accomplish, she couldn’t tell. They certainly didn’t have the discipline of trained Special Forces types. She picked off three or four of them before someone got wise to her new position and rounds started coming her way.

  The red pillbox hat flew off her head. Good riddance. But she was more careful about showing herself as she shot at the melee in the hangar.

  The jet’s engines screamed to life, and the steps lifted as the passenger door closed. The plane started to taxi, leaving behind strips of rubber that had once been tires. They had to stop that jet!

  She fired at the one engine she could see, but to no apparent avail. The jet rolled forward and was almost clear of the hangar when, without warning, a vehicle pulling a big metal luggage cart rolled directly in front of the aircraft.

  The luggage vehicle slammed into the nose gear of the business jet with a screech of metal on metal. It startled everyone inside the hangar into looking that way.

  Piper took aim and dropped two more men before the firefight resumed. She slammed her last mag into place.