by Schafer, Ben
I shielded my eyes from the cloud of dust that had been kicked into the air by the rotor wash and tried to get back on my feet. My head swam, and I made it about two steps before I lost my balance and landed on my butt. Before I could make a second attempt, the steel door to the roof burst open. A bear of a man sporting a shaved head and untrimmed beard rushed through the doorway, his AK-47 raised and ready to fire.
I shot first.
A neat pair of nine-millimeter rounds caught the gunman in the temple and throat. Pure momentum carried him another step or two before his body crumpled to the ground. I crawled toward the fallen man’s assault rifle. I needed a more effective weapon than my small handgun. I had hardly begun to move when a burst of gunfire stitched its way toward me.
I rolled onto my belly and out of the line of fire. I tried to find the shooter, but he was smarter than his dead colleague and had taken cover within the stairwell. Only the barrel of his gun stuck out of the doorway, and the constant barrage made it impossible to get into a position to effectively return fire. The bullets got closer as the gunman grew bolder.
Then I saw Jamil, who was across the roof from me, run toward the door. The gunmen inside could not see him, and when Jamil collided with the door it slammed closed. Well, almost closed. The second shooter’s Kalashnikov was wedged in the frame and the door did not shut completely, but Jamil kept his body pressed against it to prevent the gunmen from getting out onto the rooftop.
The gunman tried to use the rifle as a lever to pry the door open. Jamil responded by grabbing the weapon in a meaty fist and jerking it out of the gunman’s grasp. Jamil, still pressed against the door, hastily removed the magazine and glanced inside. Apparently satisfied, he replaced the magazine and stepped back from the door.
Without Jamil to hold the door, the two gunmen pushing against it stumbled across the threshold. Jamil held down the trigger and emptied the assault rifle into our would-be assassins. He fired from the hip and the first few rounds passed over the heads of the gunmen and into the stairwell. But Jamil got the weapon under control and the remaining bullets found their marks.
I could hear a distinct click as the magazine ran dry, but Jamil’s finger was still pressed against the trigger. “Jamil. Jamil!” I shouted. The bus driver blinked and released his death grip on the AK-47. After the tornado of sound from the crashing helicopter and barrage of gunfire, an eerie silence reigned. The initial ambush had been thwarted, but a new wave of attackers would be on top of us any second.
I approached Jamil and holstered my pistol. “Hey, you did good. Did you have training?”
Jamil tore his eyes from the bodies. “Huh? Uh, no.” He looked at me. “That was something I saw in an American movie once. It’s funny. When I saw it I thought it was unrealistic.”
He tried handing me the weapon, but I pushed it away. “Keep it. I need you to cover my back.” I picked up the AK-47 from the man I killed and checked the magazine out of habit. It was full, which didn’t surprise me. He hadn’t had a chance to fire a shot.
I looked to the rest of the group and did a quick headcount. They were all there, gathering a few feet from the door. They all looked shaken but intact. “Is anyone hurt?” I asked, just to make sure.
Azima spoke up. “Cuts and bruises, nothing more. Do you have a plan for getting us off this roof?”
“Yeah. But you’re not going to like it. Do any of you know how to handle a rifle?”
Omar shook his head. “Not me. I hate violence.”
I looked to Nadir. “You served in the army, right?”
The bureaucrat shrugged. “It’s been a long time.”
“That’s close enough for me. We need as many guns as we can get.” Each of the dead men carried two spare magazines which I divided between Jamil, Nadir, and myself. Nadir handed Omar his bag while he picked up the rifle. “I’ll take point. Jamil will cover the rear. And Nadir, I want you to stay close to the rest of the group. Keep an eye out for any surprises and don’t shoot unless you need to. We don’t have a lot of ammunition and plenty of innocents around. Let’s not turn this into a firefight if we can avoid it.”
The two men nodded in understanding then raised their weapons. I had to give Jamil a few pointers to keep the weapon steady, but the feel of the gun must have activated Nadir’s dormant muscle memory because he gripped the assault rifle like a professional.
“Is everybody ready?” I asked.
“Nope,” Omar said with forced cheer.
“Well, we’re going anyway.” I crept into the stairwell, taking care not to trip over the bodies. The man I shot died as cleanly as you could hope for, but the sheer number of rounds Jamil had pumped into the men behind the door meant that the floor was slick with blood.
In the corner of my vision, I noticed Azima scoop Hashim into her arms. She carried him over the carnage, avoiding the corpses without looking down at them. She tried to keep his eyes covered, but the look of terror on his face did not diminish.
I was accustomed to the idea of men with guns, knives, and other tools of destruction who had the intent of ending my life. So far I had been quick, clever, and lucky enough to be the one who survived these encounters, but it wouldn’t last forever. It may seem weird, but I had grown used to the idea that one day I would be on the losing end of a fight. Maybe I would beat the odds and maybe I would be able to retire from the field like Cuvier had. But if I died in the line of duty, I could be content with my fate.
When I saw the look at Hashim’s little face, I felt a wave of fury bubble up within me. The men who shot down the helicopter and lay in wait in the building beneath our feet weren’t here for me. These bastards were here to murder innocents, including a six-year old kid. My grip tightened on the assault rifle until my knuckles popped.
I could go down fighting some other day. Today I was going to kick some ass.
Going down the stairs we had gravity on our side, but it was a long way to fall. We only made it one flight when I heard shouting and stomping echo through the stairwell. I peeked my head over the railing for a split second and saw at least four armed men coming up from below us.
“Crap,” I muttered. “Nadir, I need you to suppress the guys coming up the stairs. Don’t worry about waiting for a clean shot, just keep them occupied.” He nodded and stepped toward the railing.
“Everyone else through the door,” I told the group, pointing to the metal door which led to the top floor of offices.
The others scrambled out of the stairwell and into the office. Nadir, the last member of the group, backed through the door. He had been firing single shots to preserve ammunition until that point, but as soon as his foot crossed the threshold he switched to full automatic and emptied his magazine. The second that the gun went click he took a big step back and kicked the door closed.
“Jamil, can you push that copy machine in front of the door?” he asked. “We need to stall them.”
Jamil nodded and moved to the bulky piece of office equipment. Omar followed him. “Let me help.”
Azima set Hashim on the floor. “Who are these guys?”
“They don’t look or move like soldiers,” Nadir observed.
“If it’s not the army, who is trying to capture us?” Khamilah asked.
“I don’t know. But these guys are goons, hired muscle.”
Jamil and Omar returned to the huddle, breathing heavily from exertion. “That’s good, right?” Omar asked. “They won’t have the skill or discipline of regular troops, much less some elite secret police unit.”
“But they will also be unpredictable,” Jamil observed.
“And have a greater tolerance for collateral damage,” Nadir added.
“I hate to interrupt,” Azima said. “But shouldn’t we keep moving?”
As if to emphasize her point, a loud clang reverberated from the copy machine. It was followed by another, then another. It was time to go.
I tried to put myself in the enemy’s place, to determine what steps I would
take to seal off the building. But it was a futile effort. These guys weren’t playing by the normal rules. As such, any attempt to predict the number of attackers or their tactics would be difficult.
“All right. East staircase, same drill. Go.”
“East staircase is no good,” Jamil said. He was closest to that door. “I can see movement. Can’t say for sure how many, but it looks like a party out there.”
“Crap,” I muttered. “Well, it looks like Khamilah gets her wish after all.” Everyone looked at me for an explanation.
“We get to ride the elevator.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
BASED on the condition of the rest of the building, I wondered if the elevator worked at all. But when the doors opened, imagine my surprise to find mahogany paneling and a lush scarlet carpet with a gold Imady Consulting logo placed in the middle. It seemed that the building’s entire furnishing budget had gone into these six square feet.
There was no conversation on the elevator ride to the ground floor. The only sounds were the whirring of machinery and soft jazz from the elevator’s speaker. My ears had been bombarded by shrieking metal and roaring gunpowder, so I took a moment to enjoy the peace. Because, as soon as the doors opened, I knew there was going to be trouble. Exactly how much trouble remained to be seen, but the next couple of minutes were going to be eventful. I checked the magazine in my Kalashnikov one last time to be certain. It was a nervous habit, and I had plenty of reasons to be nervous.
The gunmen had to know we were coming this way. In fact, I was certain they were counting on it. They had teams in the stairwells on either side of the building in a classic pincer movement to push us into a trap. We were left with only one way out of this killing house, and I was willing to bet there would be a small army waiting for us when we opened the elevator doors.
I took in a breath, held it for a five-count, then released it in a slow exhale. My nerves had to be steady if this was going to work. This engagement was going to come down to precision and skill versus overwhelming firepower. If I did any less than my absolute best, we were all going to die.
The elevator slowed, then came to a gentle stop. I said a quick prayer under my breath, then raised my rifle into firing position. Too late to turn back now.
There was a gentle ding, then the elevator doors slid open. As soon as there was an inch of separation, the gunmen on the other side hit hard. Bullets from at least three rifles dented or outright punched through the metal, splintered the paneling, and clawed long furrows in the fabric. Any living thing inside that elevator would have been reduced to an unrecognizable pile of meat by the time the elevator doors finished opening.
Good thing no one was inside the elevator.
I watched the carnage unfold from my perch on the roof of the elevator. Aside from the possible ricochet, I was safe up here. I kept my rifle trained on the open hatch, waiting for a target to present itself.
“Stop shooting!” a deep, rumbling voice bellowed. “You and you, check inside. Make sure they didn’t leave any surprises. Everyone else take up defensive positions in the lobby. If this is misdirection I don’t want to be caught with my back to the enemy.”
Another man grunted. “Who the hell are these people? You promised us this would be an easy job.”
“Shut up and do as you’re told.” The first man said. “I don’t care who these people are. We have been given a task and we will complete it. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. Now get your ass in there.”
Beneath me, two bulky men in dark shirts and fatigues edged into the elevator car. They may have been amateurs, but they knew enough to be alert and careful. Their attention was focused on the floor of the elevator as they cleared the blind spots for any traps I may have left.
The first man died without hearing the shot. He slumped forward, the elevator wall halting his momentum and leaving his body at a bizarre angle. The second man had enough time to spin around before a bullet pierced the bridge of his nose and exited somewhere behind his right ear.
I tucked the rifle to my chest and dropped down into the elevator car without hesitation, bending my knees to lessen the impact. Instead of wasting time and energy by trying to rise to a standing position, I continued the movement to go down into a crouch. The soft carpet absorbed the impact and I had my rifle up and ready to fire in less than a second. Three other gunmen were still exposed in the short hallway between the elevator and the front lobby.
My timing had been perfect. None of the men were prepared for my sudden appearance, and they were too far away from anything that would serve as effective cover. The man in the center wore a bandolier across his chest and a pistol in a drop-holster on his left thigh. He was also a good six inches taller than his comrades. I was willing to bet he was the deep-voiced man giving the orders.
The men on either side of him thought that they could get their guns up faster than I could shoot. They were wrong. As the echoes of gunfire died down, the man in the bandolier flicked his eyes at the fresh corpses on either side of him. Then he did something I didn’t expect. He raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. He had not, I noticed, dropped the rifle.
“Drop the gun!” I shouted. The man began stepping toward me, cautiously at first but increasing in confidence when I did not immediately shoot. “Stop moving and drop the gun!” I repeated. I considered taking the shot when he stopped and placed the rifle on the worn linoleum.
“Where are the others?” the man asked. His voice betrayed no anxiety and he matched my gaze. After a moment of consideration, he seemed to get it. “You used the elevator to bypass my men in the stairwells. I’m going to guess that you got everyone off on the second floor.”
Whoever this guy was, he wasn’t an idiot. “Third floor,” I corrected him as I rose to my feet.
“Of course.” He nodded his approval. “You needed time to set up your little ambush. That was clever. It’s too bad your plan won’t work.”
I tilted my chin at the bodies on the floor. “It seems fine from where I’m standing.”
A slow, thin smile crept across the other man’s features. “You got lucky. We weren’t warned that a bodyguard had been hired. We would have come in greater force.”
I raised an eyebrow. “‘Greater force?’ You brought at least a dozen guys armed with assault rifles and knocked a helicopter out of the sky. Was there a tank you left behind somewhere?”
The man’s smile remained. “Perhaps ‘greater resolve’ would have been a better choice of phrase. We were not prepared for such resistance.”
“Yeah, I’d bet.” The man was stalling for time. There were still an unknown number of gunmen in the building. I did my best to not look at the door to the stairwell. Where were the others? They should have been here by now.
“Despite this mess,” the gunman said, prodding one of the corpses with the tip of his boot, “you could still surrender.”
“Cute.”
The thug shrugged. “I thought so.”
“You’re good at this. Not good enough,” I added, “but not the worst I’ve ever seen. So who sent you?”
The smile vanished. “What?”
“You heard me. Who hired you for this hit?” For once, the man didn’t have a reply. “Okay, let’s try another one. How did you know we would be here? Hell, we didn’t know we’d be here an hour ago.”
“It wouldn’t matter if I told you,” the gunman whispered. “There is nothing you can do.”
I laughed. Out loud. That was not the reaction the man had been expecting. “Oh, buddy, you have no idea how often I hear those words.” A growl slipped into my voice. “And yet, every time, I seem to find something I can do.”
The big thug dropped his hands to his hips, and chuckled. “You’ve got guts, kid. I’ll give you that. But that won’t be enough. The people who sent us here aren’t going to stop, and there will always be someone like me willing to do some dirty work for decent pay. The only way out i
s—”
A loud gunshot echoed through the hall.
A dull, wet stain spread under the bandolier. The look of surprise in the man’s eyes faded as his life left him. He swayed for a moment like a great oak in a hurricane, then crumpled in an undignified heap between his colleagues. A Soviet-style Makarov pistol slipped from his left hand and clattered onto the cold floor.
I’d been preoccupied with the conversation. I hadn’t noticed his left hand as it inched toward the pistol on his leg. The man’s arms were long enough that he didn’t need to slouch his shoulder or obviously telegraph a move for his weapon. If he had been able to raise it into a firing position, I would have died in that moment.
But someone stopped him.
Nadir, AK-47 still seated firmly against his shoulder, approached the fallen gunman and kicked the Makarov out of his reach. “Are you all right?” he asked.
I hesitated a moment. “I’m fine. And the others?”
“Jamil is leading them out the back exit. But we need to go. The men in the stairs spotted us. I slowed them down, but this whole floor is going to get crowded soon.”
I nodded and began following his lead. “Nadir?”
He kept his eyes glued to the rear sight of his rifle as he walked. “Yes?”
“Thanks for saving my life.”
He didn’t smile, but his eyes betrayed a nervous excitement. “Just get us out of here alive. That’s all I need.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
JAMIL and the others were piling into the Land Cruiser when Nadir and I burst through the door. Once I was outside again I felt much better, like a fog had been lifted. Imady Consulting needed a wrecking ball in the worst way.
Jamil reached for the driver’s door when I slammed a palm against it. “Scoot over. I’m driving.”