by Dale Brown
“If they had more weapons, they’d have them out by now.”
“We can afford to wait,” said Danny.
“What about their reinforcements? Those guys Nuri spotted in the village.”
Danny had forgotten about them. He glanced at his watch. It was past seven.
“Nuri, you on?”
“I’m here.”
“Those Russians you saw in town—”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Secure the road.”
“Already working on it.”
“Tell the police no radios. The Wolves may have something inside to pick them up.”
“Right.”
Danny turned his attention back to the men in the house. He would have just ordered the Rattlesnakes to blow the damn thing up and be done with it if not for the fact that Tiny would die in the process.
He might already be as good as dead.
“Boston, who are our best shooters?” he asked.
“Everybody’s pretty good, Cap.”
“The best guys for head shots if you were the hostage.”
Boston thought for a moment. No one on the team was a poor shot, but not everyone had been trained as a sniper. That meant literally hundreds and even thousands of rounds over and over, under all sorts of circumstances.
They had six men and one woman, if Danny remembered correctly. Who were the best two?
“I guess I’m going with Squeeze and Hooch,” said Boston. “Squeeze ’cause she’s fast, and Hooch because, you know, he’s ice.”
“Tell them to put sniper kits on and get ready. They’re going wherever the bad guys go. Tell them if it looks to them like it’s going to crap, to take their shots. Head shots—these guys don’t go down easy. Tell them they’re not going to be second-guessed. Under no circumstances do the people in that building leave alive.”
“Under no circumstances,” repeated Boston.
“No circumstances,” said Danny. Clearly, these men were too dangerous to allow them to escape. “Tell them not to pay any attention to anything I say over the radio, unless I precede it with the word ‘Whiplash.’ Got that?”
“ ‘Whiplash’ is the safety word,” said Boston.
“Nothing else I say counts.”
“Got it, boss.”
Danny looked over at Flash.
“Still in the attic,” Flash told him. “Moving around. Getting something—I think they’re going for the roof.”
“What’s going on in the training building?” Danny asked.
“He’s moving around in one of the office areas.”
“Have the Rattlesnakes destroy the cottage with the aircraft,” said Danny. “Kill the helicopters. Then take out the garage.”
Rockets began firing from the helicopters within seconds. The cottage with the skeleton chopper erupted in a burst of flame. The garage merely crumbled, the sides collapsing on the vehicles.
“What are you doing, American?” demanded one of the Wolves over the radio. “You are to cease fire.”
“Open the circuit,” Danny told Flash.
Flash gave him a thumbs-up.
“We’re not going to let you out,” said Danny.
“We will kill your man, then kill you!”
Boston waved at him, signaling that Squeeze and Hooch were ready.
“Wait!” said Danny. “Don’t kill him.”
The man laughed.
“They’re coming up through the roof,” said Flash.
“Bean, get down,” said Danny over the radio.
Bean looked down from the roof. Danny waved, signaling that he wanted Bean to comply. The trooper tossed his pack down, then grabbed the line and rappelled to the ground.
While Bean was coming down, the Wolves kicked at the hole in the roof, making it bigger. One pulled himself through. Then the other handed Tiny up and came out himself.
By now the sky had lightened considerably. The men on the house were dark shadows, but it was easy to tell which was Tiny and which were the bad guys. The Black Wolf members looked like defensive linemen, though they moved as gracefully as any halfback. They stood upright on the roof, secure in their balance. One of the men had a rifle. The other held Tiny in one arm. He had Tiny’s own submachine gun in his other hand, pressed against the Whiplash trooper’s temple as if it were a pistol.
Was one of them Stoner? Danny thought of yelling his name, trying to make some sort of plea, then decided it would be a waste of time.
“You will move back!” shouted the man with the rifle. “Those helicopters—they will land! And you are doing a trick with the radio,” he added. “Turning my headset off. Do not do this.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m not a fool, American. No more this turns off, or your man dies. Then you. Move the helicopters back!”
“Have the Rattlesnakes back off, but keep the big building in their sights,” Danny told Flash, mike off. “I don’t want the guy in there to get away.”
Flash gave the command for the helicopters to back off a hundred meters.
“Team, hold your positions,” said Danny over the radio.
“Move back!” demanded the Wolves.
“Where do you want us to go?” asked Danny.
“Back! Back!”
Nuri couldn’t see exactly what was going on at the house, but from what he heard over the radio, it sounded like Danny was going to let them get away.
“Danny, what are you doing?” he demanded.
“Shut up, Nuri, and mind your business,” snapped Danny.
Shut up? Mind his business?
Nuri felt a flush of anger—then realized that Danny was playacting for the benefit of the Wolves in the house.
What was he planning?
Lacu looked at him.
“Your men should hold their positions,” Nuri told him.
“They have a hostage?” asked the deputy minister. “We have snipers.”
“It’s under control,” said Nuri.
“We have a car approaching on the highway,” said one of the Moldovans, running up. He was out of breath; he’d run with the message because of the instructions not to use the radio. “They’re coming to the roadblock.”
The Russians from the hotel. Reinforcements.
“Stop it,” said Nuri. Then he thought of something. “Wait. The snipers—have them meet me by the road.”
“If they stay that close together, we’re not getting a shot,” said Boston. “He must figure we have snipers.”
“They’re not dumb. We know that,” said Danny. “But they have to separate from Tiny to get down.”
“You and I would have to separate,” said Boston. “I’m not sure these guys have to do anything we’d have to do.”
Nuri could see the Russian car slowing as the two policemen put their hands up to flag it down. There were two police cars blocking the road behind it.
If they started to back up, what would he do?
Shoot them. But he needed the car intact. And he couldn’t use the radio to tell them.
He saw one of the policemen in tactical gear running to his right. One of the snipers.
“Wait!” yelled Nuri. “Wait!”
The policeman looked at him. Not understanding, he continued to run.
“Wait, wait!” shouted Nuri, closing the distance between them. He grabbed at the policeman’s arm. “Set up here—set up to get the driver.”
The sniper stopped.
“Get the driver first,” said Nuri, pointing.
The sniper dropped to one knee. Below on the road, the Russian was arguing with the policeman. The car started to back up.
“Now!” yelled Nuri. “Get him, get him, get him!”
They heard the shot in the distance, then another.
“What are you doing, American!” yelled one of the Wolves.
Before Danny could think of an answer, Nuri came over the radio.
“We have someone stopped at the roadblock,” he said. “We had to fire warni
ng shots to get them to stop.”
“You will let the car proceed, American,” said the Wolf.
Boston looked at Danny.
“OK,” said Danny. “Nuri, let the car come up.”
Nuri pulled the passenger out himself. Blood was everywhere. He dragged the body to the side, then pulled off his jacket. He was wearing a watch cap, but it was too sodden with blood to put on.
“Give me your pistol,” he told one of the policemen.
Reluctantly, the man handed it over. Nuri rolled down the window, closed the door, then went to the driver’s side. The body of the driver had been taken out, but the seat was covered with blood. Nuri had no choice but to sit in it.
“I go,” said the sniper as Nuri rolled down the window.
“You have to be prepared to die,” said Nuri.
“I go,” insisted the sniper.
“Pistol only,” said Nuri, pointing to his. “They didn’t have rifles. You understand what I’m saying?”
“Understand. Yes.”
“Take off your shirt,” said Nuri. “You can’t look like a policeman.”
While he did, Nuri thought of one last thing. He leaned out the window.
“Give me a grenade,” he told the policemen. “One of the grenades you showed me at the church. Quick!”
They came back with several. Nuri took just one, then asked for a medical kit. He removed the pin, holding the handle with a pair of bandages. Then he put the grenade down between his legs.
The sniper glanced nervously at him.
“Yeah, I go first if this doesn’t work,” said Nuri. “I can think of a couple of jokes, but they probably don’t translate very well.”
Boston guessed what Nuri was up to as the car approached the driveway.
“They may know who’s been sent to pick them up,” warned Boston. “They’ll see them.”
Danny dropped back to his knee. “Flash, have one of the Rattlesnakes put its searchlight on and drop down. Shine the light so it blinds the guys on the roof.”
“You sure that won’t piss them off?”
“Let them get pissed off. They won’t do anything if they think they’re going to get away.”
The helo dropped quickly, its light flaring. The car came up the driveway slowly.
“Why does that helicopter have lights on, American!”
“I want to see what the hell is going on,” said Danny.
“Turn lights off!”
“No,” said Danny.
The Wolf raised his gun and fired at the light. The searchlight went dark—just as the car pulled next to the house.
“Now what?” said Danny over the radio.
“Stefan and Androv come out of Building A,” the Wolf said.
“OK.”
“Tell them.”
“How?”
“Loudspeaker.”
“I don’t have a loudspeaker.”
“Then go to the door and tell them.”
“They’ll kill whoever goes to the door.”
The Wolf laughed. “That is your problem, American.”
Nuri glanced at the grenade between his legs. Sweat poured down his palms as he moved it to the edge of the seat against the console. He loosened the bandage so that only the weight of his leg kept the trigger from popping.
“When we get out, the grenade will load itself,” he told the sniper. “We have like four seconds. Four seconds. Then the car blows up. You understand?”
“Yes.”
“The car blows up. They’ll be running to it.”
“Yes.”
They were so close to the house that he couldn’t see the roof. This was good—it meant that the Werewolves on top couldn’t see him either. But it was nerve-wracking and dangerous as well—he couldn’t see where they were or what was going on.
“Danny, what’s happening?” said Nuri, realizing that over the radio it would seem as if he was back at the checkpoint. “We let the car go through. Where is it?”
“It came up the driveway,” answered Danny. “We’re going to let the man out of the building.”
“Is that a good idea? You’re going to let them escape in the car?”
“I have no choice,” said Danny. “We’re going to let them leave. One of them is moving to get down now, with Tiny.”
“What? You’re letting him get down?”
“He’s going down the south side,” said Danny. “I don’t have any other choice. We have to let them go.”
Danny glanced in the direction of the sniper on the southern side of the house. He couldn’t quite see him. Or her.
“Where are our men?” demanded the Wolf with the rifle.
“We’re working on it,” said Danny.
The man holding Tiny slid to the southern end of the roof. He had Tiny’s head pressed close to his, using it as a shield. It would be difficult to take him without hitting Tiny; a bullet from the other side would probably go through his skull and kill the hostage as well.
We knew these guys were good, Danny told himself. We just didn’t know how good.
“American!”
“Your men in the building aren’t answering,” said Danny. “They may have been killed—there was a gunfight at the tunnel.”
The two men on the roof began talking to each other. The one holding Tiny was inclined to leave their friends—after all, they had left them.
“Get down,” ordered the man with the rifle. “American, back! If you do anything, your friend will be killed.”
Danny bit his lip, holding his breath as the man took Tiny to the edge of the roof.
Tiny felt his legs dangling over the edge of the building.
Enough of this bullshit, he thought. If I have to die, at least let me do something. Anything.
With a scream, he began to kick and flail his elbows wildly, aiming for his captor’s groin. Whether he hit it or not, the next second he felt himself falling from the roof.
Nuri heard the scream and jerked out of the car, pushing the door closed with his leg, gun raised. The Wolf who’d been holding Tiny let go as he jumped. They were close together, incredibly close—the Wolf was to the right. . .
Nuri fired as the man fell, and kept firing, moving to his left to get away from the car, shooting wildly. The sniper did the same in the opposite direction.
None of their bullets struck the Wolf’s head, and he rolled to the ground and got to his feet. He put his hand on the car, steadying himself as he took aim at Nuri.
Then the grenade exploded.
“Whiplash! Whiplash! Take them! Take them!” screamed Danny as Nuri fired.
One of the snipers drilled the Wolf on the roof. The man fell backward, sliding head first off the house. In the next moment the grenade exploded in the car. Danny leaped to his feet, running toward the side of the building. The explosion had shattered the windshield, sending the glass flying as shrapnel through the air. But much of the force of the explosion was contained by the car and its engine compartment.
Danny saw Tiny, writhing on the ground on his left. The Wolf, in dark clothes, had been dazed. He was lying on his back in front of the hood.
Is it Stoner?
By the time the question occurred to him, Danny had already shot the man twice in the forehead.
He stopped, caught his breath as he saw the man’s lifeless face.
It wasn’t Stoner.
Nuri found himself on the ground. He was thirty feet from the car. He couldn’t recall how he’d gotten there—he’d run, but had he flown, too, when the grenade exploded?
Maybe.
He couldn’t hear. He tried rolling to his right to get up, then realized he was already on his stomach. He pushed up, dizzy, and began feeling his legs, and then his chest.
Somebody grabbed his right arm. It was Danny, yelling at him.
Nuri tapped his ears. They felt as if he were in a plane, ascending quickly. He tapped them, trying to get them to pop.
“You OK?” yelled Danny. “OK?”
“The grenade in the car—good idea,” said Danny. He ran back toward the building.
Nuri followed. Tiny was on the ground, his face twisted in pain. His right leg was bent at an unnatural angle; it hurt just to look at it, but Nuri couldn’t take his eyes off it.
“The big building!” yelled Danny. “There’s one more person in the big building.”
Before he could turn, the ground shook with an explosion so strong that Nuri lost his balance and fell to the ground.
“Looks like we don’t have to worry about getting him out of the building,” Danny said. “He just blew it up.”
THE SHOW
49
Moldova
The first priority was securing the buildings and making sure there were no Wolves left. Boston took charge of that, organizing a room by room sweep of the main house. Meanwhile, the severely injured were tended to. Tiny had broken his leg in the fall, and his ribs had been shattered by the Wolf’s punch. The trooper shot in the leg had lost a great deal of blood. Danny decided to have the Rattlesnakes take both of them directly to the nearest hospital. The other wounds turned out to be relatively minor, handled by temporary stitches, and an ice pack and aspirin in the case of a sprained ankle.
They’d been lucky, Danny realized. They’d taken the Wolves by surprise with overwhelming force, protected by the best body armor in the world and aided by technology that should have made this a cakewalk. But in truth, they could have easily been overwhelmed if the Wolves had reached their weapons.
So who were these guys? And was Stoner here?
Danny asked himself both questions as he walked through the house. The muscles in his legs trembled ever so slightly, moving sluggishly, as if the op had changed the electrical impulses they used to communicate with the brain.
He stood over a body in the hallway on the second floor. It was facedown in a pool of blood, riddled with bullets—the man looked to have taken an entire magazine, if not two, before going down.
Was this Stoner?
Danny dropped to his knee in the pool of blood and turned the body over. It was heavy—he had to use both hands.
The body slumped against the opposite wall, head flopping. For a second Danny thought he was alive and jerked back.