John gave him a reassuring look. “Let’s get inside. They may find the sleeper out there, but they won’t know we’ve already infiltrated. By the time those guys get back, we’ll be facing them head on.”
“I’ll never understand your mindset, Stone. Outmanned, outgunned, and you still think this is just some tactical hiccup.”
By the time he finished his statement, Curtis had fallen in behind John as the two men covered the remaining distance to the side entrance of the massive facility. It was tall, with a curved roof and two rows of windows. Light from inside revealed a high ceiling, almost like a warehouse, or a flight hangar.
With no apparent runway, John couldn’t make heads or tails of this seemingly out of place structure. He signaled for Curtis to stack up as he slowly turned the knob. Opening the door just a slit, John peered inside, taking in the scene once slice at a time. He wedged a toe into the gap and pressed his hands together on the pistol.
“Looks like eight, maybe ten men inside,” John said over his shoulder.
“Great, just make sure you let me know before you go all Rambo in there.” Curtis flicked the AK safety off and pulled it close to his body, settling the stock in front of his shoulder.
John nodded and slid his foot outward opening the door wide enough to slip inside. Curtis followed, using his lead arm as a wedge, entering right behind. The latch caught softly, cushioned by the pressure from the colder air inside.
They made their way along the wall, using the small shadow until one of the overhead lights bit a large circle out of their only cover. John looked around for a suitable replacement. Curtis followed his gaze, taking in the ten men John mentioned earlier. Two more strode along the walkway along the second floor, circling all the way around the structure.
Curtis nodded his head up to the men on the level above. “Those two are going to be a problem.”
John didn’t reply, fixing his gaze further into the building. “There,” he said. “That’s the guy that helped Takada escape the convention center. The assassin from the hospital.”
In the distance, Curtis spotted a man in dark pants and a dark windbreaker. The man moved with short, shuffling steps, staring down at something in his hands occasionally.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
“I can see it in his eyes,” John said, breaking away and moving to a set of crates further along the wall.
“Wait,” Curtis hissed, balking before he followed.
John advanced again, getting closer to his target. The man grabbed a few more things off of a nearby table and walked up the stairs, heading into one of the offices on the next floor. Inside John could see Dr. Takada seated at a computer terminal.
There you are, Doc. John’s grip tightened on the pistol. He clenched his teeth and sucked in a deep breath through his nose, ready to make his move.
“Hey!”
Shouting from behind him snapped John’s attention back where he and Curtis were moments earlier.
“Intruder,” one of the men on the upper level shouted.
Gunfire erupted, and Curtis brought the AK up to his shoulder, crouching behind one of the crates nearby. A jagged bloom of dragon’s fire burst forth from the muzzle of his rifle as he returned fire.
John placed a pair of rounds from his P226 into the chest of a serpent grabbing a Skorpion from the bed of a truck. He turned back to the office above just as the assassin pulled the doctor out, heading down the stairs.
Takada struggled to keep up, holding the still opened laptop pressed to his chest. “Kaliq, please, you’re hurting my arm.”
John stood and took a step forward to pursue, but bullets sparked off of the metal support nearby, forcing him back behind cover. He propped his arms on the crate and returned fire.
CHAPTER
24
The smooth skin along the fuselage of the drone felt cool to Azhaar bin Hashim’s fingers. The unmanned aircraft borrowed heavily from the American’s MQ-9 Reaper. This would be the platform the Four Serpents would use to deliver a message to the free world.
He would remind the so-called superpower nations that even they can bleed. Dr. Takada’s research would level the playing field, granting the Serpents the ability to target critical structures and people, instead of relying on indiscriminate bombings.
It was imperative that this initial flight succeed, not only in eliminating their targets but to gather all the data Takada needed to drastically improve their strike capability. The terror felt by the Western world would increase ten-fold with the Serpent’s ability to launch a precision strike, without advance warning.
Azhaar bin Hashim closed his eyes and lifted his head, smiling as his victory was all but inevitable. Before he could bask fully, several loud cracks startled him. A string of automatic gunfire answered back. A firefight erupted in the front half of the facility.
“What’s happening?” he shouted to one of his men. He grabbed the AK-47 leaning against a cart loaded with spare drone parts.
His bodyguard held a finger to his ear while shouting into his radio. After a moment he looked up. “We’re under attack.”
“That much I know, idiot! Go. We must keep the French police from getting their hands on the doctor.”
The two men with him nodded and worked the charging handles of their rifles, before rushing toward the sounds of battle. Following close behind, bin Hashim looped the rifle’s sling over his head and shoulder.
The large hangar portion of the back had two doors, each leading down a hall toward the office area in front. Bin Hashim stayed close to his men as two men rushed toward them.
“Hold your fire,” bin Hashim said. “That’s Doctor Takada.”
“Thank you,” Takada said, rushing to make his way past the armed men.
“Kaliq, what’s going on?” bin Hashim asked.
His enforcer looked back and clutched his weapon closer to his body. Azhaar looked down the hall and caught a glimpse of a large, muscular man wearing dark pants and a black t-shirt.
“Is that the American? The one from the Paris Convention Centre?”
Kaliq snapped out of his stupor and looked bin Hashim in the eye. “Yes. American.”
The sudden intensity of the man unnerved bin Hashim. He could see an odd fire in Kaliq’s eyes. He couldn’t figure out if he saw anger or determination. Either way, it could be harnessed.
He put a hand on Kaliq’s shoulder. “You must stop the American. Do you understand? Do not let him pass.”
Kaliq nodded and turned to face the enemy.
“What are we going to do,” Dr. Takada asked, his voice shaky. “I need to get out of here.”
The Serpent’s leader struck the frightened man with the back of his hand. “You will accomplish your objective, Doctor. Upload the target parameters and get that drone in the air!”
* * *
John pressed the trigger five times in rapid succession, drilling a machete-wielding attacker. The slide of his P226 locked back, showing the empty chamber. John dropped the pistol and grabbed the machete, rushing ahead as a blur of movement whipped into his view.
John swiped his knife upward, knocking the terrorist’s rifle off target. The machete’s steel spine was still ringing from the impact when John plunged the wicked blade into the man’s gut. The force of the blow carried the terrorist off his feet.
John ripped the AK-47 away with his free hand and fired a burst at another threat. In the distance, he spotted Takada turning to follow the other man down a hall.
Bullets chipped away at the walls and floor around both Americans.
“Curtis, watch my back. I’m going after the doctor!” John didn’t wait for a reply before running behind a stack of opened crates.
* * *
Curtis popped his head up and fired a burst, scoring a hit on the second man above, sending him falling over the railing. He scooped a magazine off the floor, dropped by one of the terrorists he gunned down protecting John.
“Damn it, John,” he curse
d almost under his breath, shoving the spare into his coat pocket.
There was a brief respite in the firing as John disappeared into the hall. He could hear the serpents shouting at each other, organizing their actions. Curtis didn’t give them a chance to capitalize and came up firing again, before running to a better position to watch John’s back.
Bullets sparked off of the railing as he sprayed anywhere he saw movement, spoiling their aim. The AK clicked. Empty. Without hesitation Curtis pulled the spare magazine and used to strip the empty one free, rocking the fresh ammo into place and yanking the charging handle.
Before he could resume his assault, a sharp pain lanced across his outer thigh. He gritted his teeth and dropped back behind the crates John used as cover a moment earlier. Curtis looked down and saw the small tear in his pant leg. The blood wasn’t bad, and the wound looked more like shrapnel, not a bullet.
Suck it up, soldier.
Curtis leaned out to one side, laying on the floor as several men made their move. Working the trigger with practiced ease, he let the rifle spit in pairs, sending six rounds down range. Each time one of the serpents would fall, although the last man did so more out of fear, retreating toward his friends.
A voice in his ear distracted him, shouting in Arabic. The men that left earlier to look for the missing sentry had just arrived. “Fantastic.”
Curtis came up to a crouch and dropped the retreating man with a single shot between his shoulder blades.
CHAPTER
25
Two men stepped out of the hall to meet John. He fired the AK from his hip and gave the lead man an extended burst. Several of the heavy 7.62 mm rounds passed through and struck the second man, but it wasn’t enough to drop him.
The serpent returned fire as he fell. John dove to one side, rolling on the hard concrete. He came up to a kneeling position and fired a short burst into the man’s torso before elevating his aim enough to place a single shot in his forehead.
John grunted and ran toward the hall. As he rounded the corner, bin Hashim’s formidable assassin blocked his path. With the speed of a serpent’s strike, Kaliq snapped a hand out and lifted the muzzle of John’s rifle.
A Glock 19 flashed up toward John’s chest. John released his grip on the AK-47 with one hand and reached out. His fingers clamped over the thumb and wrist holding the pistol.
The Glock barked, and the slide bit into John’s hand. Kaliq torqued his wrist to wrench the handgun free. The assassin circled it back and tucked it near his body in one smooth motion. John leaned into the rifle and swung the barrel in a full circle, looping toward his opponent’s legs.
The Serpent’s enforcer executed an unorthodox spinning flip to dodge the sweeping barrel. John had a difficult time tracking, much less anticipating, the smaller man’s movements.
His AK chattered loud in the close quarters, bullets cracking the floor. Kaliq twirled back with a dancer’s grace, firing his pistol as he evaded the incoming assault. The powerful concussive blasts thumped in John’s ears. Immense muzzle flashes obscured his vision in the dimly lit hallway. He couldn’t see his target clearly at that moment, but that meant his foe’s visibility was also compromised.
Through the bright flares in the middle of his vision, he spotted Kaliq moving in. His AK met resistance, as the assassin pinned it against the wall with his foot. John snapped his hand out again, catching Kaliq’s wrist before he could fire the Glock.
Both men locked eyes, and the moment in time stretched. John stared into an abyss, unable to read anything from the man’s gaze. Kaliq was looking through John. A thousand yard stare.
With his opponent standing on only one leg, John thrust his head forward to drive him off balance. Kaliq leaned back and flipped away. He kicked John’s wrist as he arced backward, knocking the rifle free. John felt the pistol fall from Kaliq’s grip as well.
Seizing the moment, John stepped in and fired a jab. Kaliq tried to slip the blow, but John scored a glancing hit. He followed with a straight right, but the assassin deflected the punch and slammed a hard hook into John’s ribs.
A foot snapped up, and John brought his arm up in time to absorb the roundhouse kick. He thrust out with a front kick to push the enforcer back. Kaliq twisted out of the way, continuing his rotation to send an elbow crashing across John’s jaw.
The strike jarred his vision, filling it with stars. A kick pounded his thigh, and a second buried itself into John’s gut.
Before his opponent could pull his foot back, John wrapped an arm around the ankle and brought his forearm down on the meaty upper leg. Kaliq let out a grunt and jerked his limb free, limping back before settling into a strange arrhythmic movement pattern.
Kaliq shuffled to his left, switching angles before reengaging. John pushed off his rear leg and twisted his body, launching his fist straight through his oncoming opponent. Kaliq’s knee buried itself into John’s solar plexus, driving the air from his lungs.
John dropped to his knees, a line of drool splashing on the ground. Even through the pain, John had felt his fist connect.
He couldn’t match the smaller man’s speed, so he took the full force of the incoming attack to land a punishing assault of his own. He clenched his teeth and pulled a breath of air in, ignoring the immense pain.
Kaliq leaned against the wall clutching his chest. The assassin spat on the floor and bridged the gap again. A palm strike collided with John’s jaw, but he shrugged it off and buried a wrecking ball into Kaliq’s gut.
The Ranger followed with a left hook, violently twisting the assassin’s body away. Kaliq stunned John when he used the momentum to whip a spinning roundhouse kick at his head.
John managed to catch the man’s ankle, his hand swallowing much of the joint. He grabbed a handful of Kaliq’s jacket and swung him bodily into the wall, the impact shaking the doors.
An animalistic growl pushed past John’s gritted teeth. He jack-hammered a right cross into the assassin’s face. The powerful punch snapped Kaliq’s head back through the wall with a sickening crunch. The force of the blow fractured his skull and snapped the assassin’s neck, leaving him embedded in the wall.
John scooped up Kaliq’s Glock 19 and ran toward the far end, in pursuit of Dr. Takada.
* * *
Dropping his AK-47, Curtis dove and slid across the polished concrete, snagging a Skorpion. He rolled behind a truck as the enemy’s bullets cracked the ground nearby, peppering him with bits of debris. Flat on his stomach, he aimed the machine pistol at the feet of a serpent rushing his position. His rounds slammed into the man’s shins and knees. The terrorist fell forward, cracking his face on the ground, sending a tooth skittering toward Curtis.
He frantically ejected the spent magazine and looked around for another. Maybe his luck would hold out, and the enemy wouldn’t realize his weapon had run dry. He whipped his head to the side as a dull, metallic clanging rang out, the round object bouncing and rolling to a stop nearby.
Grenade!
His heart raced. Curtis scrambled to his hands and knees, grabbing the explosive and tossing it over the truck. Exploding in mid-air, the grenade shattered all of the nearby windows. A shower of broken glass cascaded over his back as he held his hands over his head, bracing for the impact.
His ears rang, and he could feel his pulse in his eyeballs. That was not fun, he thought. By the time the buzzing whine in his head receded, he could hear the serpents shouting at each other. Apparently, one of them got a little too plucky and tossed a grenade, and the others didn’t seem to approve.
Footsteps crunched on the bits of glass as an assailant moved around the truck. Curtis leaped up to his feet and shoved the serpent's rifle into the man’s chest, forcing him on his heels. When the man pushed back, Curtis let him come forward and used his momentum to get behind his opponent.
He pulled the rifle up against his foe's neck, using him as a barrier, as they sidestepped to another stack of equipment.
Before he could reach cover,
the terrorists opened fire, punching holes in his human shield. Curtis felt the body fall from his grasp. He dove to the side, still clutching the dead man’s AK. Fire lanced up from his calf as he rolled the final few feet behind the crates.
Pressing a hand to the wound, his fingers came away bloodied. “Why do I let John pull me into these messes?”
More men shouted. Curtis rose from behind cover and triggered a burst to push them back. He shifted the sights to the side, scanning for an active threat. Stacked next to a forklift, Curtis spotted the tungsten rods. His finger tightened, and in that moment of hesitation, enemy fire drove him down.
Of course it’s not something explosive that I could have used as a distraction. He crawled back behind another stack of equipment.
A volley of fire missed him by inches. More serpents had opened up from the front of the building.
He rolled to his back, firing behind him where the guards from outside had returned, flanking his position. Curtis sprayed a long burst in their direction and scrambled to his feet, making a break for the forklift.
Bullets chewed the crates and equipment as he passed by. He gritted his teeth to drive through the pain in his leg. Curtis dropped to a slide the last few feet. Sparks bloomed off of the forklift, just over his head. Two of the guards broke away and ran toward him, their Skorpions blazing.
Curtis grabbed one of the kinetic javelins and jammed it into the forward control of the forklift. The massive machine lurched and plowed ahead. Curtis took aim and shot down one of the guards that tried to avoid the forklift barreling toward him.
More serpents joined the fight, now. Curtis leveled his sights on a crowd and pressed the trigger. The rifle bucked several times before the bolt locked back. He cursed and pulled the spent magazine, looking for another weapon.
Head of the Serpent (A John Stone Action Thriller Book 4) Page 11