No Sanctuary Box Set: The No Sanctuary Omnibus - Books 1-6

by Mike Kraus

  “Rollins! Richards!” A familiar voice came from farther out in the woods.

  “Jackson?” Linda shouted back as gunfire from the house cracked through the trees. She and Frank both ran forward before a hand reached out for Frank to grab and pull him down to the ground. Linda skidded to a halt and dropped as well, then crawled forward to sit next to Frank and Jackson.

  “Glad you two are still alive.” Jackson smiled broadly as he ejected a near-empty mag from his rifle and slammed a new one home. “I was worried you might not make it.”

  “Everything went according to plan for us, or close enough for government work at least.” Frank looked Jackson over. “You look like you had it worse than us.”

  “Ha.” Jackson rubbed his face, wiping off a mixture of sweat, soot and blood. “The explosion was larger than I thought. I jumped out without being seen, but I should have gotten farther away before I set off the C-4. A piece of the door nicked me on the head; that’s why it took me so long to get back to you.”

  “You did great, Jackson.” Linda leaned around the tree. “And the best part is that Omar’s still in the house.”

  “He’d better be. I blew out the tires on the couple of vehicles they had around the front of the house before I started my run through the woods. If he’s going to flee, it’ll have to be on foot.”

  “We still have three around the front of the house to deal with, plus an unknown number guarding him inside.” Linda looked around the tree again. “We should split up and flank through the woods. You head back southwest with Frank while I go around the other side. We’ll meet on the field side of the house.” Linda took off without waiting for a confirmation, heading through the woods to circle wide around the house.

  “You got it, ma’am.” Jackson smiled again and looked at Frank. “Let’s get moving and try to get a few shots in before she merc’s them all.”

  ***

  “Kill her!” The absence of gunfire in the woods had driven Omar’s rage to new heights. His eyes were wide, veins on his forehead and neck were bulging and his voice cracked as he screamed at the six men who were still inside the house. The three outside could hear him and they opened fire as well, though peppering the trees at random was the best they could do considering they had no visual on their targets.

  “Sir, we need to get you into the panic room.” One of the guards pleaded with Omar, speaking to his superior in a calm tone even as gunfire drowned out most of his words.

  “I’m not hiding in a damned hole!” Spittle flew from Omar’s mouth as he shouted. “Not today and not any day! There’s only two or three of them out there! Why can’t you just kill them?!”

  “We think one of them died in the vehicle explosion, sir. So there should only be two left alive.”

  “That’s not very comforting, considering one of them is her!” Omar threw his hands in the air and stalked over to a nearby window that overlooked the woods. A short distance away, down from the house and barn, the wrecks of the truck and tracked vehicle still burned, as did a portion of the woods and grass. The ground was heavily laden with moisture, keeping the fire from burning fast and hard and reducing the risk of the home being turned into an inferno.

  “Sir, please.” The guard pulled Omar away from the window. “You need to stay away from the windows. We’re watching them carefully. If they move close, we’ll know.”

  “What word is there on the city assault?”

  The guard who had been talking to Omar nervously glanced at another guard at a nearby window. News from the city had not been good, but he was loath to admit that fact to Omar. “No word yet, sir.” The guard lied through his teeth, forcing a slight smile. “But no news is good news, as the Americans say.”

  “Not for my operations it isn’t.” Omar growled at him. “Keep watching. I’m going to make a call to the forces myself.” As he left to head downstairs to where the radio equipment was kept, the guard who had been speaking to him breathed a sigh of relief and headed over to the window.

  “You shouldn’t have told him that, you know.” The guard at the window whispered.

  “I’m not about to take any more heat over this… what do they call it?”

  “A ‘cluster’ I think?”

  “It most certainly is.”

  “You think we’ll make it out of this alive?”

  The first guard sighed and leaned his head against the window frame, closing his eyes in frustration. “I don—”

  His reply was cut off by the sound of shattering glass and a second later he dropped to the floor with a bullet hole cutting through his right eye.

  ***

  “Two down inside, one down outside!” Frank as he and Jackson took cover behind the barn. A smattering of gunfire peppered the corner of the barn and the ground, but none hit either of the men. Return fire erupted from the far side of the house and Frank peeked out to see another one of the outside guards fall over, his rifle spilling from his grasp. “Make that two down outside. There’s got to be four, maybe five or six more inside though.”

  “You move up next, I’ll provide suppressing fire. How’s your ammo situation?”

  “I’ve got a few mags left.”

  “Good. Once you get to the edge of the house, stay low and hit the upstairs windows with whatever you can so I can make it across.”

  “Got it.”

  On the count of three, Frank sprinted across the short distance between the house and the barn while Jackson popped out from behind cover and peppered the upstairs windows with automatic fire. He didn’t see anyone in the windows who might have been hit but didn’t have time to look for long. As soon as Frank reached the side of the house he began firing upward, sending rounds smacking against the window frame while Jackson followed in a sprint.

  A shout came from around in front of the house, followed by a burst of gunfire, and a figure staggered out from cover, clutching at a spreading stain of red growing across his chest. A second figure came out behind the first, stumbling backward with his hands in the air as rounds tore through his stomach and chest, sending him to the ground howling in pain. Linda came stalking around the corner, rifle held at the ready against her shoulder, dropping the barrel as she spotted Frank and Jackson.

  “You two all right?”

  “We’re good. Is the front clear?”

  “Clear. Time to head inside.” She turned around before Frank or Jackson could respond and headed toward the front door. “I’ll lead the way. Jackson, help me check corners. Frank, stay behind us and watch our backs. If anything moves, shoot it.”

  Jackson fell in behind Linda, grateful that she was taking point. It had been a long time since he had last gone through a training course on how to clear a structure, but his muscle memory was good. She swept to the right while he stayed a step behind, sweeping to the left as they pushed through the front door, staying in a staggered formation.

  The house was dimly lit, but there was no initial sign of enemies as they pushed forward, cheeks pressed against their rifles and fingers hovering close to triggers. Linda swung to the right, checking inside a small half bath while Jackson covered to the left, checking a corner of a living room. “Clear.” She and he both whispered to each other as they moved along, keeping their steps light as they checked behind furniture and around edges of walls for any threats.

  “There!” They had been in the house for less than a minute when Frank suddenly shouted and fired a burst between Jackson and Linda. They whirled to see where he had been aiming as a body fell off of the last few steps of a staircase, a pair of rounds through the man’s face. Linda moved forward to get a different angle on the stairs while Jackson nodded at Frank.

  “Nice work.”

  Frank started to thank him when Linda opened fire and ran back around to the side of the stairs, screaming at the top of her lungs. “Grenade! Get down!” She flung herself to the floor on the far side of the room as Jackson pushed Frank over on top of her, then laid himself flat on both of them. The ex
plosion came a second later in the form of a blast of heat and shards of metal, wood, cloth and carpeting went flying in all directions. Frank was stunned by the blast but Jackson was already up nearly before it was over, moving down the living room to change angles on the staircase and get a view on what was going on.

  Gunfire erupted from the base of the stairs and Jackson shouted in pain as three rounds lanced through his shoulder. His rifle dropped from his grasp and he fell to one knee behind a sofa as a group of men descended the stairs, firing in Jackson’s direction. Frank pulled himself off of Linda and helped her sit up as the group continued firing, and Linda grabbed her rifle as she tried to orient herself after the loud explosion.

  “A little help here!” Jackson’s cries for assistance attracted her attention and she turned to see rounds tearing through the sofa, then directed her attention at the assailants. Three men stood at the base of the stairs, all in a row, and she took down two of them herself while Frank fired on the third. As they collapsed, the sound of metal scraping on metal came from the room behind them and Linda looked over at Frank.

  “Go get Jackson!” She whispered to him and crept forward through the room, stepping over the bodies and through the door next to the base of the stairs. It looked like the room beyond had once been a sitting or reading room, or perhaps a second living room, at least until Omar got his hands on the place. The floor, walls and ceiling had all been torn apart, and in their place were thick pieces of plate steel that formed a large box that consumed a good two to three hundred square feet of space.

  “What the…” Linda raised an eyebrow as she looked at the welded and riveted steel plates in front of her. It took a moment for her to realize what she was looking at, and she chuckled with no small amount of delight. “It’s a safe room. He put in a safe room.”

  “Linda!” Frank’s call sent her hurrying back to the main living room where Frank was working to get Jackson up onto a chair. The lieutenant’s face had gone pale and his shoulder, arm and half of his torso was stained dark red with blood.

  “Holy crap, Jackson; you look awful.” Linda knelt down next to him and glanced up at Frank. “The house should be clear but I need you to stand guard at the stairs and make sure nobody comes down them, or out of the room next to them, got it?” Frank nodded and backed off while Linda fished a medical kit out of her backpack and used her knife to cut open his uniform, exposing his wounds.

  A pair of rounds had passed through and through his right shoulder while the third had nicked the top of it. The damage wasn’t bad but the bleeding was still heavy and she worked with gauze and bandages, stuffing them into and around the wound to slow the bleeding. When she had thoroughly packed the bullet holes she wrapped the bandages in tape and Jackson opened his eyes, breathing heavily.

  “How bad is it, Rollins?”

  “You’re going to hurt like the dickens for a while. But you’ll live.”

  “What about Omar?”

  She turned to look over at Frank and the bodies that were next to his feet. “I’m pretty sure those three were distracting us while Omar got to his safe room.”

  “Safe room? You mean he’s trapped?”

  “Could be. Only one way to be sure, though.”

  “Linda.” Jackson reached out and grabbed her arm, shaking his head. “Wait till backup arrives. If he’s in there then he won’t be going anywhere.”

  Linda shook off Jackson’s grip. “Not happening, Jackson. I don’t know if he’s in there and we’re not going to stand around for who knows how long waiting for backup if there’s a chance he might escape. No, I’m blowing it open.”

  “Are… you mean with… you’ll take down half the house!”

  Linda shrugged. “Maybe. Still worth it.” She turned to Frank, ignoring Jackson’s protests. “Frank, I need you to get Jackson outside, okay? Get to the far side of the barn.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “That big steel box in there is a safe room. Omar’s inside and we’re going to crack it open like a can of tuna.”

  “Only if you open your tuna with a stick of dynamite!” Jackson protested, his voice weak and full of pain. “Rollins, come on, be reasonable!”

  Frank stared into Linda’s eyes for several seconds before nodding. “Fine. I’ll get him to a safe spot. Then I’m coming back in to help you.”

  “Frank, I don—”

  “Argue with me and I’ll shoot you in the knees and drag you out, too.” Frank growled at her. “You’re not doing this by yourself. Got it?”

  She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Fine. I’ll get started, but you’d better hurry.”

  As Frank helped Jackson hobble back through the house, outside, past the bodies near the front door and over on the other side of the barn, the lieutenant spoke sparingly. “Have her cut down on the amount she uses. If she uses the whole block she’ll kill him if he’s inside. And make sure you watch that the timer’s set properly; they can be a little bit finicky. Also, target a weak spot or a corner, so it’ll crack open instead of just tearing and twisting the metal like it would if you hit it in the center. Look for the door and plant it there if—”

  “Holy cow, Jackson, just take a deep breath.” Frank lowered Jackson into a sitting position just at the edge of the barn and gave him his rifle. “She’s been after this guy for years. She won’t screw this up. I’m sure of it.”

  “Give ‘em hell, Frank. From all of us. Make sure she doesn’t kill him, though. He needs to answer for everything he’s done.”

  ***

  Inside, in front of the steel box, Linda whistled cheerfully as she worked with the pliable block of C-4. She cut into it with her knife, pulling off several large slices until it was small enough that she didn’t think it would kill Omar when it went off. As she placed it on the thick steel door built into the box she began humming to herself, stopping only when she heard footsteps in the next room. She stopped working and aimed her pistol at the doorway only to put it back away when Frank appeared.

  “How’s it going?” He walked into the room and stared in awe at the steel structure.

  “Nearly done.”

  “Jackson said to make sure—”

  “Jackson’s a great guy, Frank, but I’ve been doing this kind of thing a lot longer than he has, okay? Just relax.”

  “So what’s going to happen when you trigger the explosive?”

  “It’ll go off, hopefully blow the door here off and concuss the rat inside long enough for us to get back in and grab him before he dies from whatever injuries he might sustain.”

  “You sure you’re okay?” Frank patted her on the shoulder and she looked up at him.

  “I’ve been chasing him for years, Frank. And now he’s finally here, trapped inside this room. I’m better than okay.” She grinned at him and stood up to admire her handiwork. “Good. We’re all set. You ready for this?”

  Chapter 16

  The explosion was more muffled than Frank had expected it to be, especially when compared with the one that had destroyed the truck earlier. That one had been massive, sending out a wave of sound and heat that could be heard and felt for a huge distance. The one inside the house was different, though. It was quieter, more subdued—as much as an explosion could be—and contrary to what he was expecting, it didn’t appear to do any damage to the house itself.

  Standing out in front of the house, Linda turned and charged inside as soon as the explosion went off, not even waiting to see if the structure would withstand the blast. Frank hesitated to go in after her and looked over at Jackson, who had pulled himself up and was leaning against the entrance to the barn.

  “Get in there!” Jackson shouted to Frank, who nodded and ran in through the front door after Linda. Smoke filled the entire house, growing thicker the farther they moved toward the back room, but Linda paid it no mind. She pushed forward with a purpose and moved past the stairs to see what the explosive had done to the safe room. The sound of someone coughing echoed against metal and Lin
da inched forward with Frank on her side.

  “Omar!” Linda roared, ignoring the stinging in her eyes and throat. “Farhad Omar!” She took a few more steps deeper into the smoke and dust, all but vanishing from Frank’s sight. Seven shots rang out, one after the other, and they were immediately followed by a burst of three rounds and a howling cry of pain.

  “Linda!” Frank rushed into the smoke after her, fearing the worst. In the thick of the smoke he made out a form standing tall over another lying on the ground. The standing one turned to him and he saw a flip of hair and he lowered his rifle, glad he had taken the extra second before shooting. “Are you all right?” He asked her as he stepped closer, dust still swirling in the air.”

  “Yep.” Linda held out her rifle to him and he accepted it, then she took a step forward and he heard another cry of pain in a language he didn’t understand. “He’s not doing so hot, though.”

  Frank squinted, peering through the smoke-laden air, and saw a figure lying on the ground with Linda’s boot on his chest. A red stain was spreading across the figure’s shoulder and leg and he began talking in Farsi. Linda leaned over and grabbed his injured arm, pulling him to his feet even as he screamed and bucked against her.

  “Get your filthy hands off me, shey’taan!” His injuries didn’t seem to matter much to him as he thrashed and kicked against Linda’s pull. She lashed out with a boot to his injured leg and he cried out again, nearly collapsing to the floor as she pulled him out of the safe room and into the living room, then outside just beyond the front door.

  Free of the smoke, dust and darkness of the house, Frank could see that the injured man was in rough shape. He was bleeding from a head injury sustained during the explosion, his breathing was ragged, his clothes were stained with dirt and blood and all he could do when Linda threw him to the ground was writhe around, unable to push himself even into a sitting position.