Patriot

by M. A. Rothman

  “I know,” Annie said, leaning forward. “Don’t stop.”

  The rear entrance was on a landing, five steps up from the pavement, dimly lit by one bulb above the door. The guard, who’d been leaning against the railing, straightened and stepped away as the Tahoe approached. Connor stopped a car’s length away.

  “We’re closed,” the guard said, squinting, trying to see into the cab.

  Annie’s gun flashed, spitting out a single shot. The silencer reduced the report to a mere pop, and the man’s head snapped back. His hands came up reflexively, grasping at the air as he stumbled backward. He bounced off the wall behind him and fell forward, his chest smacking against the metal railing.

  Connor threw the Tahoe into park and was sliding out before the man’s body hit the ground. To his right, Annie dropped to the ground, keeping her pistol pointed at the dead man’s head.

  Connor hit the steps first, taking them two at a time. He tapped the code into the keypad, and the lock clicked open.

  The entryway was empty. Connor moved down the first-floor corridor, turning left and heading for the stairwell at the far end. He could hear Annie’s soft footfalls behind him. They moved fast, but he forced himself not to run. Bad things happened when you ran. You lost footing, missed obstacles, ignored possible threats. Keeping his M4 leveled and ready, he pushed through to the stairwell, starting up the stairs without pausing to check them.

  He blew out a long breath as he reached the second-floor landing, knowing there would be shooting on the other side of this door. The alarms hadn’t sounded yet, which meant that the watcher was either out of the room or asleep. Either way, he probably wouldn’t live through the night once his bosses realized what had happened. Regardless, the lack of alarm was a blessing for Connor and Annie. He only hoped it would stay that way—though he knew it probably wouldn’t.

  He pushed through the stairwell door. Twenty meters ahead, the sheikh’s group of protectors had grown from three to six. One man’s eyes widened as he saw Connor coming out of the stairwell, probably due to the M4 he held. He opened his mouth to warn the others, and Connor squeezed the trigger.

  The subdued pop of the M4’s silenced shot echoed down the empty corridor, and the man’s throat blew out in a spray of blood and gore, his hands coming up to wrap around the wound as he fell to the floor. Connor shifted targets, finding the second man pushing himself out of a chair. He put three rounds into the man’s chest, knocking him back into a third guard standing behind him. Without skipping a beat, Connor gave him three rounds center mass as well. Both collapsed to the floor in a heap.

  Three down, and the only sounds had been the muffled pops from Connor’s silenced M4, the pinging of the bouncing brass, and the rustle of bodies falling. Years of training and experience flooded back into Connor’s mind as he pressed forward, identifying the remaining three targets and assessing their individual threat levels. A part of his mind reminded him that Annie was somewhere behind him, but the part of his mind that was doing the work didn’t care where she was. As long as she wasn’t in his way, she wasn’t an issue.

  The fourth guard managed to yell out a warning as he scrambled backward, hand reaching behind his back. The fifth managed to clear leather and had his pistol halfway up before Connor had him sighted and squeezed off three more rounds. He felt, and heard, three more shots to his right and looked up from his red-dot optic to see the fourth man fall back, cut off mid-scream.

  Annie appeared beside him, her pistol up and ready. She kept pace with him as he advanced.

  The final guard threw his hands into the air as high as he could get them. He dropped to his knees, begging for mercy in Arabic. There was shock and horror on his face as he looked down at the dead companions that he’d been joking and laughing with only seconds before.

  “Please,” he said, “I—”

  A muffled pop and flash from Annie’s pistol cut him off. His head snapped back, a red dot appearing on his forehead, and he collapsed to the floor next to his companions.

  Connor hesitated briefly, then immediately knew she’d done the right thing. They wouldn’t have been able to take him as a captive, and he would’ve been a major liability. Their mission was the sheikh, and they couldn’t let anything interfere with that.

  The alarm sounded as Connor stepped up to the closed door to the sheikh’s office. He transitioned from his M4 to his Glock, letting his rifle hang from the sling and holding the pistol one-handed.

  He glanced over his shoulder at Annie. “You have left, I’ll take right. Don’t shoot unless you’re sure of your target.”

  Annie nodded, holding the pistol against her sternum. For some reason her stance gave him more confidence in her abilities. She wasn’t handling herself like some action hero or movie star, holding the pistol next to her ear, the barrel pointed to the ceiling in some kind of dramatic pose. She held it like she was going to do work with it.

  He wrapped his fingers around the door handle and pushed the door open.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Sheik Abdullah Khan stood behind his desk, hands extended. To his left was his second-in-command, Shakir Al-Wahid, half-turned like he’d been moving to investigate the commotion outside the door. Two more men stood to the other side of the desk, both already moving toward the door, hands on holstered pistols.

  Connor leveled his sights on Al-Wahid’s chest and squeezed off three shots. With each bullet’s impact, the man was pushed further off balance, his face contorted into a mask of confusion and pain. He stumbled back against the wall. One of the men to the left screamed a warning, drawing his pistol. Connor dropped to the floor as several bullets whizzed past and smacked into the wall behind him, spraying the room with fragments of wood and plaster.

  He came up to a knee, eyes already locked on his next target. To his left, Annie cut off the man’s screaming with a single shot to his face, spraying gore against the wall behind him. Connor shifted his aim, finding the final guard, and squeezed off three shots. The rounds smacked into his waist and stomach, doubling him over, and he dropped to his knees with a grunt. Connor stood, leveled his pistol, and put a single round into the back of the man’s skull. His body collapsed lifeless to the floor.

  Finally, Connor turned his pistol on the sheikh. Khan’s eyes were wide with terror and confusion. He looked between Connor and Annie as if trying to discern which of them he should be more afraid of.

  “Just stay right there,” Connor said, keeping his Glock trained on the man’s face. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

  “What is this?” Khan asked, backing away from his desk. “What is going on? Do you realize what you’ve done? You have desecrated this holy place.”

  “You’re the last person I want to hear talking about desecrating holy places,” Annie said, moving around his desk, her pistol also trained on him. “It’s nothing compared to what you’ve done, asshole.”

  “I’ve done nothing but follow the commandments of the prophet,” Khan said. He didn’t say it with malice. It was said as a statement of fact, nothing more.

  “I’ve read those commandments,” Connor said. “And your interpretation is extremely loose.”

  “You know nothing.”

  “Right.” Connor motioned to the door with the barrel of his pistol. “Let’s go talk about it. And like I said, don’t do anything stupid.”

  Khan didn’t move. “There is nothing you can threaten me with. I know Allah will protect me.”

  “Allah won’t stop a bullet,” Connor said. “There are certain things He can’t bring you back from. Now, you work with us and keep some of your dignity and you might have a chance at living through this. You might even be able to see your daughter again. But the choice is yours. I don’t give a crap either way.”

  That last part was a lie. Connor wanted, very much, for the sheikh to live through this. It was the only way they were going to get the answers they needed. A lot of men like Khan talked a big game, but you press the barrel of a gun to a
man’s head and show him the willingness to use it, and all that bravado goes right out the window.

  The sheikh glared at Connor as if weighing his options. Connor knew he was just trying to buy himself some time, holding out hope that one of his security guards would burst through the door. Connor shifted his aim ever so slightly and fired, sending a bullet zipping through the air inches from the man’s ear. It smacked into the window frame behind him, splintering wood.

  Khan cried out, ducking away from the attack, hands coming up to cover his face. “Okay! Don’t kill me. I’ll come with you.”

  Annie moved up behind him and pressed the tip of her silencer into the back of Khan’s neck. “Try anything and I’ll drop you where you stand. Got it?”

  “Here,” Connor said, pulling a pair of flex cuffs from the rows of molle on the back of his tactical vest.

  Seconds later, Khan was cuffed and they were ushering him out of the room. He hesitated at the sight of his dead guards, their blood pooling and mixing together on the floor. Annie jerked him hard in the direction of the stairwell and pushed him forward.

  The stairwell door swung open, slamming back against the wall, and two more guards emerged, pistols in hand.

  “Shoot them!” Khan shouted, trying to pull away.

  Connor yanked on the back of the sheikh’s thobe, using the man’s body as a shield. At the same time he extended his pistol and fired. But his shot went wide, smacking into the wall before the guard on the right. The guard ducked instinctively and fired back.

  Pain erupted in Connor’s side. Clenching his teeth, he used Khan to stay on his feet, ignoring the pain. Beside him, Annie fired, dropping both guards.

  The sheikh started to drop to his knees, pulling Connor down with him.

  “Get up!” Connor yelled, pulling on the man’s robes. “Move, you son of a bitch!” As he jerked Khan toward the stairs, the burning in his side increased.

  Annie sprinted forward, shouldered her way through the door, and bounded down the stairs. Connor shoved Khan into the door just before it closed, using the man’s forehead to knock it back open.

  “Move!” Connor repeated with another shove.

  The two men made their way down the stairs, Connor keeping a tight grip on the man’s robes to keep him from tripping and falling.

  Annie stood at the bottom, peering out through a crack in the door. She gave Connor a nod. “It’s clear to the back door.”

  “Let’s go.”

  Annie took the lead, reached the back door first, and kicked the breaker bar, forcing it open. Every step Connor took sent an agonizing flash of pain through his side. As he pushed Khan into the entryway, gunshots ripped through the air behind him and plumes of plaster shot out from the wall, stitching toward them.

  Connor shoved Khan through the door and outside.

  “Drive!” he shouted at Annie. He yanked open the Tahoe’s back door and shoved the sheikh inside.

  The mosque’s back door swung open behind him, slamming against the wall, and a man wearing all black stepped out, rifle coming up for a shot. Annie ripped off three shots, and the man in black spun like a top and fell back through the open door.

  “Keys!” she shouted as she got in the driver’s seat and slammed her door. “I need keys!”

  “Here,” Connor said, fishing them out of his pocket and handing them up to her. He pushed Khan over, pinning his shoulders and head against the seat to make sure he didn’t go anywhere, and pointed his pistol at the mosque’s door.

  Another guard appeared, already shooting, blowing out the passenger-side glass. Connor fired back, sending a string of bullets into the guard and the entryway beyond. “Go!”

  The engine roared to life, and Annie slammed on the gas. The SUV lurched forward, throwing Connor against the seat. Pain flared in his side, and he knew that the bullet had at least bruised if not broken a rib. Thankfully, the vest had stopped the bullet.

  He felt Khan shift underneath him, and he pressed the silencer into the back of the man’s skull. “Don’t you fucking move,” he said through gritted teeth.

  Even as she drove, Annie drew her pistol and fired behind them, hitting another guard as he emerged from the doorway. Pursuing gunshots blasted out the rear window, spraying Connor with tiny shards of glass, and he returned fire without looking until the slide locked back on an empty magazine. Then the tires squealed as the Tahoe left the lot and veered into the alley.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  “Where to?” Annie asked as she merged into traffic.

  “You’re the pro here. Don’t you guys have a safe house around here somewhere?”

  “Hold on.” She steered the lumbering vehicle with one hand and tapped on her phone with the other. “Got it. Twenty-seven minutes.”

  “No good,” Connor said. “There’s no way we’re going to make it that far without someone noticing our car’s shot to hell. We’re going to need to find a new ride.”

  “On it.” Annie abruptly changed lanes, veering around a slower car.

  With his face buried in the seat, the sheikh started laughing, his body shaking underneath Connor. “You are too late. You’ll never stop what’s coming. It’s impossible.”

  “Shut the hell up, asshole.” Connor adjusted his position so that his body weight would keep the sheikh pinned.

  “What kind of ride did you have in mind?” Annie asked, making a sharp turn.

  Connor braced himself against Khan as she veered through the intersection. “Improvise.”

  Khan laughed again. “You are a fool!”

  “I said shut up!” Connor pressed his forearm into the back of the sheikh’s neck, shoving his face deeper into the seat.

  Khan managed to turn his face to the side. “There is nothing you can do to—aaaah!”

  Connor had pressed the tip of his silencer into the Khan’s cheek. It was still hot from Connor’s rapid-fire barrage as they’d left the mosque, and when he pulled it away it left a red mark on Khan’s skin.

  “Looks like God’s instrument can still feel pain,” Connor said. “How much do you think you can take? In my experience it’s a lot less than you think.”

  “I will tell you nothing,” Khan spat, his voice muffled by the seat cushion.

  Connor touched the silencer against a spot on the sheikh’s neck, pressing hard. He could almost hear the skin sizzle. Khan screamed and writhed under Connor’s touch, trying to kick out, but Connor sat back, trapping the man’s legs under him. Then he holstered the pistol and punched Khan square in the kidney.

  Khan screamed again, his entire body tensing at the blow.

  Connor punched him again and again, ramming his fist into the same spot. The tender area where the kidneys were situated wasn’t ideal for knocking someone out or ending a fight quickly, but the pain inflicted could be extremely debilitating.

  “I think I’ve got something,” Annie said, abruptly putting on the brakes and turning into a dark parking lot. It was flanked by a pharmacy and a gym, but both businesses were closed, and it didn’t look like anyone had thought to maintain the light poles.

  Annie pulled to the back of the lot, next to an older model Explorer. She stopped the car and hopped out. “Be right back.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  Annie moved to the Explorer, pulled a small tool from her pocket, and slid it into the keyhole. A second later the door was open and she was reaching under the dash. The Explorer’s engine rumbled to life, its headlights coming on automatically, illuminating the parking lot.

  She got out and opened the Tahoe’s back door. “Good evening, sunshine.”

  Connor pushed himself off the sheikh so Annie could pull the man out. She was surprisingly strong for her size, and extracted him with no problems at all. Connor followed Khan out, taking hold of one arm, and together they loaded him into the back seat of the Explorer. Connor once again pushed his face into the seat and resumed his position on top of the man.

  Annie put her phone on speake
r as she drove. “I need a vehicle cleaned.”

  “Oh, come on, again?” It was Brice, and he sounded more than a little frustrated. “That’s the second one this month. What do you have against nice vehicles? I mean, if it was your motorcycle—”

  “Brice!”

  “All right, all right. Keep your pantyhose on.” A couple seconds passed. “Done.”

  Annie looked over her shoulder as they left the lot. Connor followed her gaze.

  The front of the Tahoe exploded and burst into flames.

  Connor’s eyes widened. “Are you kidding me?”

  Annie shrugged. “Standard procedure for a compromised vehicle.”

  “We were riding on explosives this entire time? What if one of those bullets had hit the package?”

  Annie motioned dismissively. “It was perfectly safe. You can do just about anything to C4 and it won’t go off.”

  Under Connor, the sheikh laughed again. Connor grabbed a handful of the man’s robes and pulled back, hard, cutting off his airway. “Where’s the next bomb going to go off, Khan? We know you’re behind it.”

  “You know nothing!” Khan croaked.

  Connor gave him another kidney shot. “Where is it?”

  This time Khan didn’t scream. He just let out a pained grunt and shook his head. “Soon you will see the power of God’s will. Soon your entire country will understand!”

  “Screw this guy,” Annie said. She reached into her pocket and held out her knife for Connor. “Here.”

  Connor waved her off. “No, I got this. You don’t want to answer my questions, Abdullah? That’s fine.” Taking a page out of Annie’s playbook, he grabbed hold of the sheikh’s little finger. “Last chance. Where’s the next target?”

  “Go to hell, pig.”

  Connor twisted hard. The crack of snapping bone echoed inside the car. Khan screamed and frantically tried to get away from his tormentor. Connor had a fleeting image of a cowboy riding a bull at the rodeo as he fought to keep his balance. He pressed his head against the Explorer’s ceiling, using it as leverage to keep Khan pinned underneath him.