The door swung open and Caitlin stepped into his arms.
Her emotions swept over him as they touched. For a moment, he could do nothing but hold her and share the touch, the warmth, the love.
Then she looked up into his eyes. “I told you I’d come for you, Caitlin. I’ll never let them separate us again.”
“John, you’re exhausted. You didn’t tell me how bad your wounds were.”
“Not so bad, nothing a little rest and a couple of pints of whole blood wouldn’t cure.”
“Always ready with a wise ass remark. You’re incorrigible.”
“And I thought that was what first attracted you to me. Are you all packed? It’s time to get on the stage.”
“All packed.”
John pulled the guard’s pistol from his belt and jacked a round into the chamber. He decocked it and flicked the safety off. “Take this. The safety’s off, just squeeze to fire.”
“All right.”
She took the extra magazines and tucked them into her belt.
John opened the door slowly and listened. No sounds.
He stepped into the hall and silently told Caitlin to follow.
“Is he?”
“Just unconscious.”
John was almost to the end of the corridor when he heard the elevator chime. “Oh shit, we’ve got company. Back the other way, toward the stairwell,” John transmitted as he backed away from the corner.
Footsteps pounded in the hall. Lots of footsteps.
As a uniformed guard came into view, John sprayed a three round burst at his legs. The man went down cursing and the second man stumbled over him. The others held back.
“John,” Caitlin transmitted and her pistol barked loudly.
“Back in your room.”
John fired another burst up the corridor, turned, stepped over the unconscious guard, and fired a burst at the men coming through the stairwell door.
Gunshots came from behind him and he felt two impacts against his back. They drove the breath from his lungs. He dove into the open doorway and Caitlin slammed it behind him.
“Are you hurt?” She asked as she threw the latch.
“No, the vest stopped them. Let’s slide the dresser in front of the door.”
The dresser was light and moved easily.
“It won’t hold them,” she said silently.
“Just something to slow them down.”
John unlatched and opened the only window in the room. There was no screen, but a thick steel grating covered the opening.
He unwound a length of rope-like material from around his waist and started running it around the edge of the grating.
“What’s that?”
“Primacord. Get the mattress off the bed and drag it into the corner.”
Footsteps pounded to a stop outside the door.
John finished the hurried wrapping and took a fuse from a pocket. He cut off three inches worth, stowed the rest, and took out his Zippo.
“Get ready, it’s going to be loud,” he transmitted as he struck the Zippo and held the flame to the fuse. The fuse flared. John dove for the corner and Caitlin pulled the mattress atop them.
The Primacord exploded. It filled the confined space with a roar and a shower of flying glass. From the hallway came shouts of surprise.
John kicked off the mattress and ran to the window with Caitlin right behind him. The grating had vanished. He looked down. It was about a twelve-foot drop to a snow covered boxwood hedge.
“You first. Take my hands, I’ll lower you.”
Caitlin jammed the gun in her belt and climbed onto the windowsill. Turning, she clasped John’s wrists and then stepped back as he lowered her. Their coordination was as smooth as if they done it a thousand times.
At the end of John’s reach, Caitlin put her feet against the wall and pushed off as they simultaneous released. She dropped the last distance to the ground, slipped in the snow, but came up an instant later with the gun in her hand.
John climbed onto the windowsill as the door burst open. He turned, firing as he stepped off the sill into space.
Someone else was firing. John saw the man with the M-16 flung backwards as John’s burst caught him in the chest.
A burning pain shot through John’s gut.
He hit the ground, rolled to his feet, stumbled, and fell.
Caitlin was at his side in an instant. She gripped his arm and helped to his feet, gasping as she felt his pain.
“John!”
“No time. I left my bags at the corner,” he transmitted their location and contents in a wordless image.
“Can you walk?”
“Hell, I can run. You get the bags. I’ll distract them.”
She released his arm and ran toward the front of the building, not seeing him stumble and fall as she did.
John rolled onto his back and raised the Uzi. Snow blocked the end of its barrel, it would melt in a few seconds, but he couldn’t wait. He slapped the barrel against his boot, aimed upwards, and fired a long burst at the faces already appearing in the open window.
John forced himself to stand. He fired another burst, shorter this time to conserve his ammunition, and limped toward the nearest trees.
A troubling warmth was spreading outwards from his abdomen.
He reached the first tree, braced himself against it, and fired toward the windows. This time his fire was answered by at least two guns. He rolled around the tree until it was between him and the window. “Caitlin, hurry it up dear. They’re getting persistent.”
“On my way.”
John could see movement at both ends of the building. Caitlin ran toward him from the front and three black suited men did a rapid advance and cover toward him from the rear. They saw Caitlin at the same time she saw them.
Before they could bring their weapons to bear, John opened up, dropping one in his tracks and causing the other two to dive for cover.
Caitlin ran on without pause.
“Go! Keep moving, I’ll be right behind you.”
John slipped his night goggles back over his eyes while waiting for Caitlin to get a lead on him. He waited until she was nearly to the street. He fired a couple of bursts towards the two men at the rear of the building, another one toward the new group that had appeared at the front corner, and then ran after her.
Automatic fire shattered the branches behind him, sending splinters flying in every direction.
Gunfire sounded in front of him.
“Guards, in a vehicle, coming from the gate area,” Caitlin transmitted.
“Stay low, I’ll be there in a minute.”
Caitlin’s handgun quieted and John realized she must be switching weapons. If she just had enough sense to keep her head down.
He transmitted a wordless command for her to stay under cover until he reached her.
There was more gunfire as he approached her position, but a quick check told him it was her firing and only her.
“They’re not shooting back because they want you alive,” John transmitted.
“And not you?”
“Apparently they feel they can get whatever they need from just you.”
“Fat chance.” Her weapon sounded again.
“Take out their tires so they can’t follow us. It’s going to be hard enough to get out of here without having them chase us down these mountain roads.”
“What do you think I’m trying to do? They won’t stick their heads up long enough for me to hit them.”
John reached her and stopped to lean against a tree trunk just to one side. His side hurt. It reminded him of the stitch he’d sometimes get from those ten-mile forced marches back in the Marines, except it had never hurt with such an intensity.
He gazed across the twenty yards that separated their position from the cover of the trees on the other side of the water tower. “They’re just stalling us until the others can move up from behind. We have to get across this street in a hurry.”
“Any sugge
stions?”
“I have a diversion set up. When I trigger it, start running. Be sure to stay to the right of the tower.”
“All right.”
She held her hand toward him.
If she touched him, she’d know how weak he was. It would distract her when she needed to concentrate on her own safety.
He forced himself to ignore her hand, to pretend he hadn’t seen.
Pulling the detonator from his coat pocket, John fumbled with the controls until he had it set in the correct position.
“All right, here we go, on three. One.”
He flicked the safety off.
“Two.”
John lurched from behind the tree and ran toward the street.
“Three.”
He depressed the switch.
There was a bright flash at the base of the water tower and a loud boom.
It was followed instantly by a deep-throated roar as the ruptured water pipe sent a two-foot wide horizontal column of water spraying toward the gatehouse and the parked Humvee.
Grown men screamed in panic as the jet of water threw the five thousand-pound Humvee out of its way. The men who had been crouched behind the vehicle were crushed before they could even rise to their feet.
“Wow! What a trick. How’d you know someone would be parked there?”
“I didn’t. I placed the explosives to wet down the road and maybe knock the main gate off its tracks. I thought it would buy us some time.”
He reached the opposite side of the street as Caitlin passed him without slowing. At the base of the water tower, John stopped to lean against the steel columns and cover her retreat.
Headlights were coming up the street.
“John? What did you stop for?”
“I have to work up one more diversion, and then I’ll be with you. The arroyo is just ahead. Keep going.”
“I’ll wait for you.”
“Don’t be silly, you know I can outrun you easily. I’ll beat you to the fence.”
“Why are you lying? John, how bad are you hurt?”
Hell, the longer they used the eggs the more information they could glean from the other’s transmissions. When they’d started, she hadn’t been able to tell if he was lying unless they were actually touching. Now she could do it from a hundred feet away.
“Not that bad. I’ll make it. I just want to make sure they don’t follow too quickly.”
He turned toward her and was shocked to see that she had turned and was coming back.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“I’m not leaving you.”
“You stubborn fool ... Have I told you I love you?”
“Yes, now set off your damn explosives and let’s get the hell out of here.”
He turned back toward the approaching lights. It was another Humvee. John changed the setting on the detonator and waited. When the Humvee was ten feet from the intersection John depressed the switch and a pound of C4 shattered the rock he’d set on it and sprayed the Humvee with shrapnel. The driver was killed instantly. The vehicle swerved off the road and into the trees.
“Shall we go?” John asked as he turned toward Caitlin.
Twenty feet from him, she passed through the shadow of the small pump house and part of the shadow detached itself from the rest.
Although the snow blurred his night goggles, he recognized the shadow’s broken nose.
“Caitlin!” His silent transmission told her everything. She spun away from the moving hand. Her gun rose.
The hand slapped away her gun. The automatic discharged a bright line of fire into the snow. Holdren’s other hand closed on her coat and yanked her to him before John could bring his own weapon to bear.
“Drop the gun, Blalock, or I’ll kill her.”
The Uzi was a fine weapon, but it wasn’t meant for single shot kills. He needed his Colt and he needed to see Holdren clearer.
“You won’t kill her. You’ve ordered your men to take her alive,” John said aloud.
Then silently he transmitted, “I’m going to go for a head shot on him. Wait until I give the signal, and then drop. The sudden shift of your weight should give me a shot.”
“All right, John. It’s your play. Just kill the bastard for me.”
“I’ll be happy to.”
“None of that silent shit!” Holdren said, his voice tight with anger. “I know that you’re trying to cook something up and you’d better believe me when I say I’ll kill her before I let her escape.”
“I believe you, Holdren. You’re just the type of sore loser that would stoop so low,” John taunted as he shifted the Uzi to his left hand and slipped his right inside his coat.
“Fuck you, Blalock.”
Holdren shifted his aim and fired.
John tried to leap to one side, but he was already too weak for that sort of movement. The bullet shattered his left knee and it collapsed under him.
“John!”
The intense pain blacked him out for a moment. When he got his eyes open again, Caitlin was kneeling over him. Holdren stood behind her.
John went for his holstered gun, but it was gone.
“All right, get your ass up. Unless you want me to cap your other knee.”
“Leave him alone, you bastard.”
“Shut up, bitch. I may want you alive, but you don’t have to be unblemished. One more remark out of you and I’ll pop one of your knees.”
John could feel Caitlin’s anger growing hot. She was going to try something that would get her hurt. He tried to calm her, but it did no good.
“Caitlin, help me up. If you’re going to go after him, you’ll need me on my feet.”
“John, you can’t walk on that leg.”
“No, but I can at least take his aim off of you for a second. Now help me up.”
She stood and pulled on his arm.
John thought the pain was going to kill him.
It took all of their combined strength to get him onto his good leg.
As John rose, he drew the Ashley Hunter from its boot scabbard.
They coordinated their movements with Caitlin going left as John went right. Holdren’s gun wavered. He aimed at Caitlin’s leg, but then recognized the real danger and turned in time to block John’s thrust.
Unable to put weight on his left leg, John clutched at Holdren’s arm, both to prevent him from firing and to keep himself upright. They struggled, John slipping about on one leg, Holdren having to support part of John’s weight and still keep the long blade away from his rib cage.
“I’ll get his gun,” Caitlin transmitted.
“No, get another one. If you try for his it might discharge.”
John should have been able to crush Holdren. The other man was more of an assassin than a real fighter, but John was weak, so weak. It was all he could do to keep the man’s gun pointed away from him. He couldn’t hold him for long. If Caitlin didn’t get a weapon soon, he would die.
“I have one,” Caitlin transmitted. “Just another second and I’ll shoot the bastard.”
“Don’t take too long. This dance is tiring me out.”
There was a gunshot.
Holdren didn’t flinch.
“Drop the weapon if you please, Ms. Maxwell.”
It was Romax. Holdren had delayed them long enough for the pursuing guards to catch up.
“John?” Caitlin transmitted.
“They still don’t want to shoot you. Leave me. Run for the arroyo.”
“No!”
“Do it, damn it!”
John put everything he had left into a twisting motion that broke Holdren’s grasp on his knife hand. He slashed upwards. Holdren stepped toward him rather than away and the thrust sliced a gash along the man’s ribs.
He danced back out of John’s reach, cursing. “So, you want to play with knives, eh Marine? Well, let’s see how well you dance.”
Caitlin raised her weapon to shoot, but Romax reached her before she could fire. The automati
c discharged into the sky as he forced her back.
Holdren holstered his handgun and a second later, a Bali Song, butterfly knife, flipped open in his right hand.
“Christ, Holdren, let it go. We have them.”
“Shut up, Romax. This man tried to carve up my liver. No one lives to brag about that with me.”
John hopped back a couple of feet to get the little pump house at his back. “Come ahead, Holdren. What’s the matter? Do you have to shoot me again to feel man enough to dance?”
“I’ll show you a man,” Holdren said moving unhurriedly after John.
“They say the Roman priests foretold the future by examining the entrails of sheep. You look like a sheep to me Holdren. Tell me, were you raised on a farm?” John taunted.
“What are you doing?” Caitlin transmitted. “Drop the knife John, Romax won’t let him kill an unarmed man.”
“You really think so, Caitlin? Somehow, I doubt it. I’m sorry I screwed this up for you. Don’t let them get to you. Eventually they’ll free you.”
John took a second to transmit everything he’d set up with the Gunny. “Gunny Zim is already spreading the blueprints. By the time, they’re dispersed to the four winds there will be no reason for them to hold you. Keep your wits about you and hold on. Zim will get you free. Just don’t let the bastards break you.”
“No, John. Please, drop the knife. Please.”
“Sorry, Caitlin. I can’t do that.”
As Holdren neared John, Caitlin turned to Romax. “Please, you can’t let him do this. It’s murder.”
Romax shook his head. “I don’t have any control over him, Ms. Maxwell.”
Holdren moved in.
John parried his initial thrust and slashed back, trying to sever the tendons along the back of Holdren’s hand. He missed and his movement caused him to teeter. John stretched a hand toward the building to steady himself as Holdren moved in again.
This time he moved toward John’s weak side.
John turned to meet the attack, but knew he’d never make it in time. In a second, Holdren was inside his guard and then behind him. His left arm tightened against John’s throat, pulling him back.
John felt a shocking impact between his shoulder blades. Raw pain burned anew in his chest. His legs numbed and the strength left his arms. The knife fell from his fingers.
Holdren drew his knife from John’s back and loosened his grip.
The Phoenix Egg Page 34