Lone Wolf

by David Archer

  Something clattered to the floor. Nicolaich's eyes went wide, and suddenly he slammed his left hand on the table. It was empty, but then Noah brought his own hand up.

  The broken-off blade of a knife, a six-inch stiletto switchblade, had pierced through his palm and was sticking out the back of his hand. Sarah squealed when she saw it, but Noah simply grabbed the thicker end in his left hand and pulled it out, letting it drop to the floor. Blood gushed from the wound, and Sarah grabbed several napkins that the barmaid had left on the table and used them to cover both sides of Noah's injured hand.

  Noah kept his eyes on Nicolaich throughout the whole incident, and now he put a smile on his face. “Looks like I win round one,” he said, and Nicolaich raised his eyes from Noah's hand to his face.

  A moment later, a grin spread across his own. “I must say, Mister Wolf, you did surprise me. No one has ever beaten me at that game before.” He looked at Sarah, and his face was more sober. “Ms. Child,” he said. “You have been won. You are safe, at least as long as the rest of this game will last. If I win, however, then you will be mine as spoils. Perhaps I will keep you alive, and use you for other pleasures. There's really no point in killing you, once Mister Wolf is dead.”

  “I would kill myself before I let you touch me,” Sarah said. “You can just get that out of your mind right now, you perverted old bastard.”

  “Round two,” Noah said suddenly. “How do we play it? I want this over with.”

  Nicolaich nodded and smiled again. “I am certain you do,” he said. “I'm also certain that your injured hand would give me an advantage, should I face you without weapons. I have two strong healthy hands, and you have only one. Perhaps that dark alley might be satisfying, after all.”

  Noah reached up with his left hand and brushed beads of sweat off of his forehead. He pulled his hand away and looked at it, then felt his hair for just a moment. He grinned at Nicolaich. “Now, look what you've done, you messed up my hair.” Still with his left hand, he reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a comb, then raised it and began running it through his hair. Nicolaich continued to smile as he watched, but then suddenly, Noah pressed one end of the comb against his head and twisted the other. There was a nearly silent click, and then Noah smashed his hand down and jammed the comb's now-exposed blade into the Russian's right hand, pinning it to the table.

  The Russian let out a shriek as the knife pierced his hand, and Sarah instantly let go of Noah's injured palm and grabbed her glass. She swung it as hard as she could into the side of Nicolaich's face, ignoring the cuts to her own hand as it shattered. Nicolaich screamed again, as blood began pouring from numerous cuts on his temple and cheek, and Noah saw that a sliver of glass had pierced his left eye.

  Noah snatched the comb back, pulling the blade free, and Nicolaich yanked his hand to his chest. He stumbled to his feet, knocking his chair over backward as he struggled to get his left hand under the jacket that he wore. He was going for a gun, Noah realized, but he was having problems because the gun was holstered for his right hand, and he was trying to grab it with his left.

  Noah grabbed the edge of the table and pushed, tipping it toward the Russian. Once again, Nicolaich fell back, this time tripping over his fallen chair. He rolled, surprisingly quickly, and came up on his feet. He spun and ran for the door, just as several of the patrons came toward them to see what was going on.

  “Neil!” Noah shouted. “Nicolaich is leaving the building, tell Moose!”

  The Russian made it to the door, and slammed his way through it as a group of people were trying to come in. Suddenly, people were screaming just outside, and Noah knew that Moose was doing his job. He and Sarah were both on their feet, and he grabbed her injured hand in his good one and led her quickly toward the door.

  He paused at the doorway, looking out to see what was happening. The group of people who had been trying to come in were scattered all over the parking lot, running in different directions. Noah saw two of the three men who had frisked him lying on the ground, pistols beside them as blood seeped out of their heads onto the concrete. There was no sign of the third man, nor of the other three that Moose had said were out there.

  There was also no sign of Nicolaich Andropov.

  Noah turned to Sarah and whispered, “Stay low,” then pulled her through the doorway. He rushed to where the first of the SVR men lay dead on the concrete and snatched up their pistol in his injured hand, ignoring the pain as he wrapped his rapidly swelling hand around the grip and put a finger on the trigger. His car was only thirty yards away, and he pulled Sarah along as he hurried toward it.

  A bullet struck the concrete just in front of his foot, and he spun in time to see another agent preparing to fire again. He thrust the pistol toward the man, squeezing the trigger three times in rapid succession. Two of the bullets struck the man in the chest, but the third took him between the eyes. Most of his face seemed to collapse in on itself, and he dropped onto his back like a sack of wet clothing.

  Another shot rang out from the opposite direction, and Noah felt an impact in his left thigh. He stumbled, but managed to stay upright as he tried to turn toward this new shooter. Just as he got his eyes on the man, the shooter's head exploded. Moose had seen what was going on, and had them covered. Noah continued toward the car, but his leg was weak and couldn't support his weight. Sarah ducked under his arm and wrapped her arms around his chest, holding him up as he hobbled along. They made it to the car, and Noah had to switch the gun to his other hand as he fumbled in his pocket for the keys. He hit the button on the fob and yanked open the passenger door, shoving Sarah inside.

  He slammed the door and leaned on the car as he hurried around to the driver's side. Sarah had leaned across and opened the door for him, so he let himself fall into the seat and then used his hand to drag his wounded leg inside.

  Another SVR agent appeared from around the side of the building and took aim at the car. Noah grabbed Sarah's head and pushed her down, just as a bullet blasted a hole through the glass just in front of where she had been sitting. Noah got the key into the ignition and turned it, then yanked the shifter into reverse. He shoved his foot to the floor on the throttle, and the car roared backward, making the agent’s next shot go wild.

  The car hit the street and Noah spun the wheel, causing it to spin completely around. He slammed it into drive and the car rocketed forward, the last sounds of gunshots falling away behind them.

  “Neil, I'm hit,” Noah said. “I'm going to the embassy, they've got a clinic there and Sarah and I both need medical attention. Tell Moose to fall back to base and wait to hear from me. Meanwhile, you keep looking for any sign of Nicolaich. The son of a bitch got away, and I'm not going to let that happen.”

  “Okay, Boss, okay,” Neil said. “Don't you die on me, you big asshole! We had that conversation, remember? Don't you dare die on me!”

  “I won't, unless you talk me to death. Just get Moose back there, and you guys lay low until you hear from me.”

  “Noah,” Sarah said beside him. “You're bleeding pretty bad. How far is it to the embassy?”

  “I don't have a clue. Get my phone out of my pocket, look in the contacts and call Larry Carson. We may have to meet him somewhere, I can feel shock starting to set in.”

  Sarah got the phone from his pocket and found Carson's number, then pushed the button and held it to her ear. When he answered, she almost shouted. “Larry, this is Team Camelot! Camelot has been shot, he's bleeding badly. We need medical attention, and quickly!”

  “We're getting reports about gunfire involving SVR, is that you guys?”

  “Yes! Yes, that's us! Camelot seems to be going into shock, can you get someone to us?”

  “Look around, tell me what you see. I need to know where you are.”

  “Um, I don't know, I can't read any of these stupid—wait a minute, there's a Starbucks ahead on the right. And we're just passing a KFC!”

  “Okay, that tells me where you are! Pul
l into that Starbucks and wait, I'll have an ambulance there in five minutes.”

  The phone went dead. “Pull into Starbucks up there,” Sarah said to Noah. “He's sending an ambulance, he says it will be there in five minutes.”

  Noah nodded, but didn't speak. A moment later he pulled into the Starbucks parking lot, put the shifter in park and turned off the engine. Sarah wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close to her. “Noah? Noah, talk to me. Oh, God, Noah hold on! Help is coming, Noah, you have to hold on for me, Baby!”

  “'m here...” Noah muttered, but then his eyes rolled up into his head and he slumped against her. Sarah began to cry, interspersing her sobs with kisses she was planting on his face. Noah wasn't responding, and she began feeling for a pulse on his throat, but didn't find one.

  People were coming out of Starbucks and gathering around the car, staring at the bullet-riddled windshield and the sobbing girl inside. Some of them were pointing, and a few were taking pictures with cell phones, but Sarah ignored them. She thought she could detect faint breaths, but that was the only sign of life Noah displayed, and she wasn't sure that she wasn't imagining it.

  An ambulance suddenly appeared, its siren shrieking. It pulled into the parking lot beside the car, and then another car slid to a stop just behind it. Paramedics rushed to the car and yanked opened the driver's door, reaching in to carefully pull Noah out and put him on a stretcher. Sarah climbed out of her side of the car and ran around to stay near Noah, but the paramedics pushed her back.

  She started to scream at them, but then someone took hold of her arm and she spun around. Larry Carson stood there, and after a moment she realized that he was trying to talk to her. She shook her head and looked at him again, and then realized what he was saying.

  “...Come with me, we'll follow the ambulance. They're taking him to the embassy, we have a fully staffed clinic there, it's like a small hospital. It's a big secret, but I think you have enough clearance to know about it. Come on, let's get into my car. Someone will come to take care of this one later.”

  Sarah let him lead her to his car, watching over her shoulder as the paramedics worked on Noah. She realized that he must be alive, because they were starting an IV right there on the spot. Once they had it flowing, and had wrapped something around his bleeding leg and hand, they lifted the stretcher up and pushed it into the ambulance. The doors closed, and it roared away.

  Carson opened the door for her, and she got into the seat. A second later he was behind the wheel, and they were following the ambulance. The ride seemed to take hours, but later she would realize that it had lasted only a matter of minutes before they pulled into the embassy and drove into its underground garage. The ambulance was already there, and the paramedics were wheeling Noah through a pair of glass doors.

  Sarah opened her door, and followed Carson through the same doors the paramedics had taken Noah through. He led her down a hallway, then turned left to enter the clinic. A nurse looked up at them, and Carson pointed at Sarah. “She's with the guy they just brought in,” he said. “She's also bleeding, her hand.”

  The nurse hurried over and looked at Sarah's hand, then looked at her face. “Dear Lord,” she said, “this girl's been beaten! Come on, honey, you come with me.” She led Sarah into the same room that Noah was in, and had her lie down on a bed that was only a few feet away from him.

  “Is he gonna make it?” Sarah asked, and one of the paramedics looked around at her.

  “This guy?” The man's accent was thick, but he smiled at her. “This guy is tough, he's very strong. He would be up in no time, except he gets Doctor Novotny. Doctor Novotny, he is good, but he don't let nobody go until he thinks he has tortured them all he can. But you don't worry, your man, he is strong. Heartbeat good, breathing good. We give him some blood and sew him up, he will be good as new.”

  Sarah began to cry again, this time from relief. She looked at the nurse who was trying desperately to take her blood pressure. “He's not lying to me, is he? Noah's going to be okay, right?”

  The nurse glanced over her shoulder for just a second. “That's Pavel,” she said. “He's probably the best paramedic in all of Russia, at least for my money. If he says your guy is going to be okay, then he's going to be okay. Heck, if you ask me, Pavel is better than most of the doctors we get here. You're pretty lucky that he was on duty when the call came in.”

  Sarah gasped in relief, and then exhaustion hit her. She fell back on the bed and relaxed as the nurse started looking at her own injuries.

  “Well, honey, what did you do to your hand?”

  “You see these bruises? Well, I busted a glass into the face of the bastard who did this to me.”

  The nurse's eyes got wide. “Good for you, Sweetie! Too bad you didn't aim a little lower, you might have saved another whole generation from people like him.” She cleaned and bandaged Sarah's hand, then began going over the rest of her body. Sarah winced several times, and the nurse clucked each time it happened. “Well, you've got a couple of cracked ribs, and I suspect you've got a couple of minor fractures in your left ulna—that's the long bone in your forearm, right here. Other than that, I don't see any signs of serious internal injuries. I'm going to draw some blood samples, and as soon as you can I need you to pee in a cup for me. That will tell us even more.”

  Sarah nodded, but she was rapidly succumbing to exhaustion. It suddenly dawned on her that she had not been to sleep since she had been taken from the farmhouse in England the day before, and she couldn't stop yawning. The nurse smiled down at her. “All that stuff can wait, Sweetie. You look like you need some rest, so go ahead and take a nap.”

  Sarah started to nod, but sleep closed over her.

  Back at their base, Moose and Neil were getting worried. Neither of them had Carson's phone number, but Neil found the number for the embassy online, and used it as a foundation to start looking for other numbers. He finally stumbled across an office number for Carson, and dialed that.

  A secretary answered, and Neil tried to explain to her that he was looking for information about his friend, Alexander Colson. The woman didn't seem to have a clue what he was talking about, so finally he just demanded to speak to Carson.

  “I'm sorry, but Mister Carson isn’t in right now. If you leave your name and number...”

  “I do not have time to wait for a call back, you stupid bitch! I don't care where Carson is, you get him on this phone right now! Trust me, if he finds out that I called and you didn't, you'll be looking for a new job before the day is over!”

  The woman put him on hold without saying a word, and he listened to some ridiculous music for almost two minutes. He was just about to hang up and call again when the music stopped.

  “This is Larry Carson,” a voice said. “Who are you, and why are you shouting at my secretary?”

  Neil rolled his eyes. “Well it's about freaking time,” he said. “Do you know what I'm talking about if I say Team Camelot?”

  Carson's voice lost all of its anger instantly. “I do,” he said. “Are you affiliated with that organization?”

  “You're damned right, I am, I'm Camelot four, the computer whiz. I'm trying to find out what happened to Camelot, can you tell me?”

  “Yes, he's downstairs in our clinic right now. He was in pretty bad shape when we brought him in, but the doctors assure me he's going to be fine. It's just gonna take a few days before he's up and about. If you need to come and see him, I can arrange it, but I'm sure he's going to be out cold for at least the next twelve hours or so. He's in surgery at the moment, to remove a bullet from his thigh. Luckily, it didn't hit any major blood vessels, but he did bleed a lot.”

  Neil was suddenly overwhelmed with relief, and felt tears streaming down his cheeks. He couldn't talk for a moment, so Moose reached over and took the phone from him.

  “Mister Carson, this is Camelot two. My buddy here is crying and can't talk, can you fill me in?”

  Carson repeated what he had told Neil, adding
the additional details about Sarah, and Moose suddenly understood the tears on the boy's face. He wasn't the type to cry, himself, but he knew that Neil was extremely emotional. The relief at learning that Noah was going to be okay had overwhelmed the kid, and Moose could understand that. He thanked Carson, and said he would call the next day to see about visiting Noah. He hung up the phone and looked at Neil.

  “He's gonna be okay, little buddy. He's gonna be okay. Sarah is all right, too. She got beat up pretty bad and has a few minor fractures, and her hand is cut up, but other than that she's okay. We'll go see them tomorrow, okay? Tonight we just need to crash here and try to relax.”

  Neil tried twice to get words to come out, but failed. On his third try, he managed to say thanks, then suggested they call down to the kitchen to get something for dinner. Moose thought that was a great idea, and it got even better when the cook said that making them a large supreme pizza would be no problem at all.

  TWENTY-TWO

  The doctor kept Noah sedated through the night, but canceled the order for sedation the next morning. Noah finally woke up at around 10 AM, and was surprised to find the whole team gathered around him. Sarah had bandages on her own hand, and she had obviously had a bath. Neil and Moose were sitting on chairs across the room, and Larry Carson was chatting with the two of them. When they realized that Noah was awake, they all hurried over to his bedside.

  Neil was the first to speak. “I'm going to explain the situation to you, Boss, and I want you to listen to me real closely. I want to make sure you get it the first time, because I like to repeat myself.” He leaned down close to Noah's face. “You are not authorized to get shot! Do you understand me, Mister? No more getting shot, not ever!”