Hit Hard

by Amy J. Fetzer

  Fifteen minutes later, he heard the whisper in his ear.

  “I’m on him.”

  “Number three?”

  “At the rear, one exit, one car. I’m ready to shut down the surveillance circuits.”

  They wouldn’t cut them, just break the electrical connection. They couldn’t be seen, no evidence of their arrival, or the USA or India would be in for some trouble.

  “Wait till he gets to the edge of the balcony.” The man moved back and forth, hot boxing a smoke and already reaching inside his jacket for another. Gonna get you killed, he thought. “Abort shoot till he lights up again.”

  They watched and waited, the house aglow with golden light from inside. They could hear nothing of the children and hoped at this hour they were sleeping. He looked back over his shoulder at his teammate, his equipment hidden somewhere in the grasses.

  “I’ve got two: one on the balcony, one just inside, channel surfing.”

  “The third?”

  “No visual.”

  “Alert, channel surfer is standing. In the kitchen getting coffee,” his sniper said. “Get ready, he’s coming back with two cups.”

  Kincade heard the countdown and rushed the stairs, took aim and fired. From the right his teammate fired. The two men sank slowly to the deck as the drugs instantly kicked in. The teammates climbed to the top, and up onto the deck.

  They’d leave the darts in for a few minutes to make sure these guys were out for a while. Inside, the living room was empty, and silently they spread out, using only hand signals as they covered the house. They found the third asleep at a console, watching the monitors already gone black.

  Adam fired into his chest.

  “Number three out.”

  They searched the premises quickly, and couldn’t find the children. “Jesus, what did they do with them?”

  “They’re here, they don’t guard a house for nothing.” Adam moved through the hall, opening closet and bathroom doors. Nothing. He stood still, thinking of the best place to hide a teenager and a little boy. He looked up, his gaze on the ceiling as he quickly searched again. Bingo. He found the attic opening inside a closet, the supplies on the shelves pushed aside, the edge of the wood scraped. He climbed, using his knife to pry the edge, a narrow staircase unfolded, and he climbed up, his rifle sweeping the room with light.

  In the corner on a mattress was the girl, her body shielding her brother, and brandishing a piece of wood. Adam pulled off the hood and goggles.

  He called the girl by name, then said, “USA.”

  She let out a breath and crumbled, then woke her brother and crawled with him across the floor. When the young boy put a death grip around his neck Adam knew going against orders was the right thing to do. Kincade hoped that when Wyatt and his team assaulted the house, they found the kid’s father.

  As quietly as they’d come, they took the only evidence, the tranq darts, and within moments, faded into the night with the children.

  Max didn’t have to force the door, it was already open. He eased up to the side of it, aiming in, then rolled around to the other side to get a complete view inside. It wasn’t large—a bed, a sitting area, and a dead man slumped in a chair. He touched his throat mike. “Buyer ghosted.”

  “Here, too,” Logan said, a moment later. “I count three dead so far.” Logan entered the room and went to the computer, doing a search, and keyed up the schematics. “Plans are gone, erased.”

  Instantly they understood. Someone had betrayed Jalier. “He’s still warm and bleeding.”

  “Outlaw, someone got to them first. And they’re still inside.”

  Max met up with Logan and they tried the last door, and found it locked. Logan knelt and placed a charge on the lock. It hissed and smoked a little and the green light on the electronic lock popped. He scanned the small room; it was filled with tables and machinery, and the light on his rifle pointed out the video cameras and speakers. They eased in, covering the room in a breach circle. In the far corner was a cot and stretched out on it was a single figure, his eyes wide with fear. Max pulled off his goggles and leaned close. “Mr. Narabi?”

  The man nodded, breathing hard.

  “We’re here to take you home.”

  The man went limp in the cot, tears in his eyes. Max cut his bond and removed the tape. Instantly the man asked for his children. “I don’t know, sir. Let’s get you out of here first. Stick close.” Max moved to the door, Narabi behind him. “Drac to Outlaw, package secured.”

  Sam touched his throat. “Bug out.”

  Zidane went into the corridor, then heard movement and backtracked, tucking himself near the elevator. Three men left Narabi’s room, the one sandwiched in between as they rushed him to an exit. Wyatt’s people, he thought, and turned in the other direction. He lifted the radio to his mouth, gave orders not to shoot, then climbed the curving staircase.

  He was too late.

  The elevator door opened and Sam hung back, peering around the edge, sweeping left, then right. Empty.

  Yet a good twenty feet beyond, a man sat on a sofa, his back to him. Jalier, he thought, so secure that he didn’t bother to look his way. In front of him were three large screens, broken up into blocks. They were dormant, blank, yet there was a laptop and web camera in front of him.

  “Zidane, where have you been? Take that away.” He waved offhandedly at the body. Beecham, Sam realized, and squatted to check for a pulse and didn’t find one. The man’s presence said a lot and Sam assumed Beecham was the one who took Viva off the jet. He’d be the only one with that kind of access.

  Sam advanced slowly, and over Jalier’s shoulder, saw Viva on the screen, looking lovely but a little ruffled. His gaze skimmed the room till he found the weapon. Under a high-ceiling dome of glass, it was like a rocket pointed skyward. On tripod legs, it had the look of a telescope with a flat silver platform on its back. Even from here, Sam could see the diamond in the channel. It was positioned to fire through the glass. Then Sam realized it was already powered up.

  Aboard Night Watch, AWACS

  35,000 feet above the Earth’s surface

  “Cougar to base, align with the l-87 satellite, now, now!”

  The flight commander looked back at his radar operator.

  She nodded. “Over Bangkok, Thailand, we have it, sir.”

  “Get ready for some vibration and God knows what else, people.” He turned the craft into the path, the navigator giving him corrections in flight. They knew the instant they hit the beam. The jet shook. The Silent Fire vibrating the craft and sending all the instruments into a spin.

  “We can only hold this for a moment,” the navigator said.

  “It’s enough for the guys on the ground to stop it.”

  The beam hit the tail of the craft, knocking it off course and it started to pitch, the commander holding tight to the controls and keeping his gaze on the leveling. Yet when they passed through the beam, the vibration altered the tail rudder, and the monstrous jet started to tumble through the night, still in the path.

  Cougar strained, his copilot pulling back. Suddenly, everything went still, then he slowed the jet, and hit the radio link to NMCC.

  “Base to Cougar, what’s your status?”

  “We’re still here, sir. All instruments back to normal.” That was amazing, Cougar thought. “Did it help?”

  “No, Colonel, it didn’t.”

  They’d have to blow the satellite.

  It was soundless, barely a hum, yet the laser heated up, glowing through the perfectly clear diamond. Sam moved swiftly forward and pressed the barrel to the back of Jalier’s head. “Shut it down.”

  Jalier stiffened.

  Sam nudged him with the barrel. “Shut it down.”

  “You’re too late.”

  Sam chambered a bullet. “Get up.”

  Jalier rose, his hands in the air, and as he faced Sam, he smiled. “You have chosen the wrong man, Wyatt.” Jalier’s gaze slid over the man’s equipment, weapons.
“You cannot touch me. I have diplomatic immunity.”

  “I don’t care if you have the clap, shut it down!”

  “Once it has power, it must finish the sequence.”

  “Like hell.” Sam swung the rifle, firing at the tripod legs.

  Viva watched it play out, saw the camera tip, and she got her first look at Constantine Jalier. He was handsome, dark hair with silver liberally at his forehead. Well dressed and a first-class bastard. Then she saw Sam try to reach the weapon.

  “General. Do something!”

  “We’re trying, Miss Fiori.”

  “Blow the satellite!”

  “We can’t, it’s ours.”

  Oh God. Viva could see only Sam, trying to hold his weapon when she knew he was feeling pain, sheer agony as it vibrated his skull. His nose immediately bled, blood rushing down into his mouth. He was on his knees and lunged toward the weapon now tilted on its side. It hit the polished stone and vibrated through the building.

  She could do nothing but watch. Glass shattered as if punched, blasting outward. A second later, the ceiling of glass fell, showering him as he struggled to pull the diamond free.

  She saw blood in his ears. “Help him!! He’s dying!”

  The machine collapsed, falling to its side, but Jalier was right. It didn’t stop. The unseen beam ricocheted off the glossy stone and bounced back into the room. The effect was instant and angry. Sam’s skull hurt, the back of his head vibrating murderously, his ears and throat tight with unimaginable pressure. He tried to keep standing. It was nearly impossible to command his muscles. Then glass exploded.

  Sam’s muscles collapsed, his chest feeling as if it would cave from the pressure. The sound was nothing more than a hum, the intensity of it magnified by the diamond, and he fell to his knees, his body pummeled with vibration. Worse than g-force training. He crawled toward the HSS, feeling his nose bleed as he dragged his body closer. He grabbed the weapon, his fist crushing the silver platform. It only distorted the sound-wave, the force still powerful, and he gasped for air, blood dripping from his nose, and the pressure in his ears building. Christ.

  Barely able to focus, he slid his hand along the channel and with his knife, pried the diamond. He pushed and it wouldn’t budge and he slammed the machine onto the floor. Nothing. He tried again and the diamond dislodged and flew, hitting the floor and spinning.

  Jalier rushed forward, diving for the stone like a greedy monger. He gripped it, smiling, then stood and pulled the plugs from his ears. “Wasn’t that interesting?”

  The sensations faded, yet Sam could still feel the weapon humming in his hands. He swung it forward, aiming like a rifle. At Jalier’s head.

  Jalier frowned at him, and staggered, reaching for the wall, for anything. Sam came to his knees, wanting to watch this fucker die slowly. Blood flowed from Jalier’s nose, his ears. He choked as his lungs filled, yet it didn’t stop him from lunging toward Sam. The diamond fell to the floor.

  Sam pointed it close to his head. “This is for Riley, for Sri Lanka, for Guatemala, you asshole. And for Viva.”

  Jalier’s eyes rolled to white, his tongue pushing out of his mouth without control. Blood pushed from the corners of his eyes, from his ears, and Sam backed off, lowering the weapon, and then dropped it when another man approached to swing his rifle forward, his footing uneven.

  A figure emerged from the hall, staggering a bit, and Sam aimed. Rohki recognized the man just as Sam did. Sam took cover. Rohki darted behind a white stone column.

  Jalier writhed on the floor between them.

  “Time to face the music, Rohki.” Sam wanted him bad.

  Rohki’s gaze shot from the machine to the stone on the floor a few feet from him. “We have all been betrayed.”

  “No honor amongst thieves, there’s a first.”

  Rohki fired around the column. Sam returned it, his bullet chipping away at the stone.

  “I have lots more for you.”

  Rohki stayed behind the column, trying to hear the man move, and failing, his gaze lowered to the floor, to Jalier bleeding from all orifices, and then to the stone. He needed it back, compensation for this failure. He chanced a look around the column, but gunfire sent him back. He fired blindly and a bullet struck his wrist, shattering the bone. He howled, the gun tumbling from his useless hand. He cradled his wound, pain flying up to his shoulder. He couldn’t stay here, the man would hunt him. He glanced around, trying to see him in the reflection and couldn’t. He reached carefully down to his spare gun under his pant leg. He checked the load, then mentally prepared himself. Many members of his organization were willing to die for their cause.

  Tashfin wasn’t one of them.

  Sam was patient, his senses clearing slowly, his footing stronger. He moved right, and came around to Rohki’s left just as he darted for cover.

  Rhoki dove for the stone, hitting the floor. With his wounded arm, he reached out for the fat diamond, and fired with his left. There was no one there.

  Rohki rolled and swung his aim.

  “Wrong, again.”

  Sam shot twice, hitting him in the ribs, then the head. It wasn’t pretty. An instant later, Sam caught movement to his left and swung the rifle.

  The tall man, he realized, and he walked slowly forward, aiming a pistol at Jalier’s head.

  “Drop it,” Sam said, shouldering the MP5 rifle.

  “I have to finish the job.” He held up a billfold, open to the ID. “I am Jai Zidane,” he said. “Interpol.” He fired at Jalier’s head.

  Sam didn’t lower the rifle. “If you’re Interpol, then what is Kashir Fokhouri doing on a slab?”

  “I could not reach Kashir and he went to Beecham, believing he could trust him.” Zidane glanced at Beecham’s body. “He didn’t know he couldn’t.”

  “You killed the buyers.”

  “I had to make certain they were collected to get them all at once.”

  And throw off suspicion with the manner of the kills, Sam thought.

  Zidane withdrew a handful of silver CDs.

  “Here are the HSS plans. All data has been erased from the laptops, which are evidence of Interpol. We are done here.”

  Sam took them. “It would have helped to know you were in this deep.”

  “And risk my cover?” Zidane scoffed, then spoke into a radio. “Secure the perimeter, packages eliminated.” A man replied in a language Sam didn’t understand, and Zidane met his gaze. “Kincade has retrieved the children. They were in no real danger, Wyatt. My men were watching them.” Zidane started to turn away, then said, “Noor, she knows your name, she will find your woman.”

  Sam paled and radioed Sebastian.

  Noor’s patience was over. The men were acting casual, relaxing their guard. She’d waited for this moment and eased from the tree, dropping to a crouch, then moving along the bushes, then to the house. The side door was unguarded, and she stepped around the charges she’d seen them set earlier. Squatting, she worked the lock with a pick, uncaring of the alarm that sounded. Then a charge went off behind her. Shrapnel pummeled her back and she arched forward, smothering a moan of pain. Warm blood spilled down her spine, and the back of her head. She ignored it, forced the door open, and was inside, moving into the main portion of the house. She stilled at the entrance to the rear of the house, seeing the woman, her appearance changed. Noor cocked her head to the side, studying her from behind and thinking herself more beautiful.

  Why did this woman have so many men willing to die for her?

  Noor knew the moment the woman sensed her presence. She turned slowly and aimed a pistol.

  “Somehow I knew you’d come,” Viva said, inspecting the Thai woman from head to toe. Small and compact she was breathtakingly beautiful. Probably what got her close to men to cut off their balls.

  “Give me the bracelet.”

  “You really think you can take it now?” Viva slipped out of her heels and moved to the left, circling the woman. The dart hunter, she thought. “Why
do you want the bracelet so bad?”

  “It is Thai.”

  “And you think I’m stealing it? I wasn’t. I’d planned to turn it over to your king.”

  Noor scoffed and Viva lifted her aim. She didn’t even realize that the woman had thrown till she felt the pain in her leg. The small, sharp knife was imbedded in her thigh and Viva buckled. Pain flared up her body, and it took Herculean strength not to take her eyes off Noor as she pulled out the little knife and threw it aside.

  “You’re really asking for a bullet in the brain, ya know.”

  “The taste of a kill is good, yes?” Noor threw again.

  Viva rushed to the left. The blade sang past her into a painting on the wall. Then Noor bolted for her, throwing her body at Viva, and Viva fired. It missed and the pair tumbled to the floor. Noor straddled her chest, leaning over to grip Viva’s hair and yank her head back. She put the blade to Viva’s throat.

  “The bracelet!”

  “In the bedroom.”

  Viva tried moving her arms, pinned by the woman’s knees and for a little thing, she weighed a lot. Then she felt her ankle, her foot, and Viva grabbed onto both, throwing her legs up and propelling herself forward. The motion sent Noor backwards and Viva clamped her legs around Noor’s middle.

  She squeezed, put all her strength into it, knowing if she didn’t stop this twisted creature, she’d die tonight. Blood seeped from her wound as she pressed harder and heard Noor’s breath labor. Harder still and Viva felt rib bones give under the pressure. One cracked, then another, and Noor screamed, pushed at her legs. The tortured sound brought more noise from outside.

  Men rushed the door, slamming against it.

  CIA doesn’t know the codes to get in, she thought, refusing to let the woman go. Noor gasped for air, and Viva pressed till she had none left in her lungs and the woman faded into unconsciousness. Viva released her, kicking her away, noticing the blood on the woman’s back as she jumped to her feet. She wasn’t done. Noor regained consciousness in moments, and with both hands, Viva grabbed the woman by the shirt and dragged her to her feet. She could barely stand upright.