Singh had made another sharp turn. They had left the highway. They were in a residential district. The small streets brought the GPS to life.
"In one hundred feet, turn right…."
"In one hundred feet, stay to the right of the fork…."
The GPS made no mention of Stop and Yield signs, which Singh ignored with blatant abandon. He also paid no heed to the Children Playing or Deaf Children street signs. To the driver's thinking, when life came to the raw edge, caution was a useless luxury.
"Goddammit!" Lawson swore. Ari's phone was still open and his voice came through clearly.
"I have a splendid conception," said Ari. "At least one of the men we will encounter has an Uzi. Ben also has an Uzi. We should place them at opposite ends of the street and have them draw down on each other. You are familiar, I am sure, with the Iraqi 'death blossom'? While the inadequately trained Arab rains his bullets throughout creation, the precision-driven American can—" He stopped when he saw Yilmaz staring at him. Her tongue was making a sideways jabbing motion. Perhaps that part of her anatomy had also been weaponized.
"Forget it, Elmore," Ari said into his phone. "I have been advised that my idea is unworkable."
"I don't know," said Lawson. "You'll have to ask Ben."
The yards they passed grew larger, the houses growing more and more distant from each other. The road petered into a dirt lane and they came to a small clapboard house brushed up against the woods—at the very point where the road came to a dead end.
"You have reached your destination…."
The proper tactical approach would have been to stop a couple of blocks short of the house, scout out the target, and advance stealthily upon their objective. Though an excellent soldier and chemical engineer, Singh had been so focused on his talking dashboard that he had temporarily forgotten military basics. Braking hard on the dirt and gravel, the tires threw up a cloud of dust.
Seeing movement at the front of the house, Ari shouted, "Get down!"
Singh reacted quickly, but he was too big to duck very far. Bullets smashed the windshield. The next volley caught him in the side. His dastar flew off. Blood sprayed across the immaculate entertainment console. As Yilmaz cried out, Ari spilled out the rear door and crouched behind the car. After staring at the Cadillac's gas cap for an instant, he edged forward behind the engine block. He pulled out his Glock and was about to jump up for a shot when the clapboard around the front door of the house came loose in hundreds of white fragments. The man with the Uzi spun around, gaped at Lawson's men at the edge of the lawn, then at the two or three holes in his abdomen. He fell back through the door, which was slammed shut by someone inside. Unfortunately, he held tight to the machine gun.
Lawson staggered up to the Cadillac, crouching with difficulty as he peered through Yilmaz's window. He couldn't see through the cracked, blood-streaked glass.
"Are they both hit?"
There were several shots from a front window. One of Lawson's men grunted as a bullet hit, but he kept going. Lawson murmured, "Thank God for Kevlar—"
He was cut short when several bullets hit the far side of the car. When he dropped down his artificial leg slid out and he fell with a shout.
"Thank God for cars, too," said Ari.
"Except we insure this baby," Lawson groused tensely. "Another fucking firefight. What did you do, Ari, bring them over from Italy with you? Or somewhere else? You keep them in your pocket and pull one out whenever you're bored?"
There was a shattering of glass as Lawson's men returned fire. Ben ran up to the Cadillac and fell with an 'oomph' on his stomach.
"Another freaking war zone!" he complained, rolling over.
"We were just commenting upon that," said Ari. "Elmore thinks I get bored too easily and arrange these festivities to kill the doldrums."
"Well? Until I met you, I wouldn't touch a gun anymore. Now I've got this…" He held up the Uzi.
"Now, now," said Lawson. "I've got men on the lawn. We don't want any blue-on-blue here."
"Just in case they do a banzai out the front door," Ben said. "You know, like Butch and Sundance. I'll be the Mexican army."
Lawson scooted out of the way as the passenger door cracked open.
"Give us some room." Yilmaz rolled out onto the road, then twisted around and reached back inside. She had flecks of blood on her face, but she did not seem to be wounded. A bloodied turban fell out onto the gravel as she pulled.
"You are helping Singh?" said Ari, beginning to shift to her side.
"You would have to stand to reach over me," Yilmaz said. "I've got him…" She pulled again and Singh's bloodied hand appeared. Ben ignored Yilmaz's warning and jumped up to help. He attracted a few shots from the house and prudently resumed his crouch.
"Hurry it up," Lawson urged. "If they pull out a Kalashnikov—"
"My ass will be pierced, I know," came Singh's deep voice.
"It is very undignified," said Ari. "I speak from experience."
Ben and Lawson glanced at him.
"I decline to show my scar."
"You get it from a jealous Sicilian husband?" Lawson asked.
Ben, who had a better idea of Ari's origins, gave a flick of his brow and looked away.
"You are disemboweling me!" Singh complained as Yilmaz braced her feet on the bottom of the door to pull harder.
With all the blood, it was a bit like giving birth. Midwife Yilmaz groaned with the effort. Another hand appeared and Singh shouted, "You can let go! I've got it…"
Singh's head appeared, his long hair draping down to the dusty road. Gripping the side of the door, he pulled himself forward, the ground shaking as he thudded onto the dirt and gravel. He swung his legs around and braced his back against the car, gasping.
"I am so happy to see you alive and…alive."
"Where is my Desert Eagle?" Singh asked, looking back through the door.
"Maybe you should sit this out," Lawson suggested.
"What an idiotic suggestion!" Singh snarled, leaning down for a better glimpse into the footwell.
"But you have a hole in your head," said Ben.
Ari was about to remark upon his absence of tact when he saw Abu Jasim leaning against his van, parked behind Ben's truck. He was tilting beer down his throat. Under the circumstances, this seemed a sure indicator of alcoholism. Ahmad came up next to him, his laptop in hand, and began arguing with his uncle.
"Ben," said Ari, "where are Karen and Fred?"
"They went off to circle through the woods. I told them that wasn't a very good idea. They must be closing in on the back door by now."
Lawson swore and took out his phone. "Buffett, listen up, we've got two idiot friendlies in the trees." He listened to the response, which came in the form of a distinctly British accent. Lawson sighed and nodded. "They know."
"I would despair if they were shot accidentally," said Ari.
"You don't sound very convincing."
"Well, they are problem children."
A rapid staccato burst from the side of the house.
"M4," said Lawson.
"In all likelihood. I would despair if the deputy marshals were shot intentionally."
"That's more like it," said Lawson, responding to Ari's tone of concern.
"You know, you should probably stop moving around like that," said Ben, watching Singh. "I'm not kidding, you've really got a hole—"
"Shut up," said Yilmaz.
"Yes, ma'am." Ben turned to the others. "So what's the plan? We charge across the lawn and get mowed down? Hey…that's funny."
"If Abu Jasim drinks any more, he will happily kick in the front door," Ari said dismally.
"Just be patient," said Lawson. "My guys know what they're doing. I just hope they don't get shot while practicing their expertise."
"Whoa," said Ben as Singh dragged his gigantic .50 Desert Eagle out of the car.
Ari's phone rang. Abu Jasim.
"What is it?" Ari demanded. "You cannot afford to b
e drunk!"
"I can't afford not to," said Abu Jasim. "Listen, my idiot nephew says there's been another call. He said it sounds like Sanad, although he's changed phones again."
"Yes? Maybe he's trying to reach Nizzar."
"I don't think so," said Abu Jasim. "Someone answered. A woman."
Ari held his breath. "Nabihah?"
"Even weirder. Karen."
"Karen who?"
"Deputy Marshal Karen Sylvester."
Ari was flummoxed. "What are they saying?"
Abu Jasim spoke to Ahmad, then came back on.
"It looks like Sanad called Washington and asked to be connected to her. They were trying to fob him off on a secretary, but then he told them something and they put him through. I think we can expect a lot more company any minute."
"What did he tell her?"
"That the house is wired up the derrière with explosives and everyone within two hundred yards will…what's the word…"
"Enter the Void," Ari told him.
"How many meters are in a yard?"
"I believe we are well within the orbit of destruction."
Lawson's head turned stiffly in his direction.
"Booby trap," Ari told him. "A big one."
Quickly raising his phone, Lawson punched a general comm button. "Hold off on the tear gas and pull back!" He listened to a response and cursed. Cautiously raising his head, he surveyed the situation through the passenger door and shattered driver window. "All right, I see. Well…be advised, we have good information that the house is mined. Probably all someone has to do is flip the light switch and boom."
Ari heard a very distinct "Shit!" at the other end. He understood the problem. Lawson's men had succeeded in rushing the house and were now using the walls for cover. Sanad's men would have a clear field of fire if they tried to run away.
"Sit tight," Lawson advised. "I'll work on a miracle."
Singh was probing the hole in his head with his index finger.
"Cut it out!" Ben protested.
As soon as he hung up on Abu Jasim, Ari's phone rang again.
"Ari!" Karen gasped. "We have to get out of here! The house—"
"I know," said Ari. "We are considering our options."
"How do you—?"
"Mike-mike!" someone shouted.
Everyone but Yilmaz flung themselves to the ground. With a single massive hand, Singh grabbed her by the neck and hammered her into the road, falling on top of her as something whiffled overhead.
"Whaff!" Yilmaz protested.
A cracking bright flash threw up dirt and splinters that clunked against the Cadillac. The grenade had landed in the trees across the road.
"He won't overshoot next time," Ben said, spitting out gravel. "But if we run, we're done."
Ari nodded appreciatively. "'If we run, we're—"
"How do I look?" said Singh, letting Yilmaz up and again reaching for the hole in his head.
"Like a dead man sitting," Ben grimaced. "Stop poking it. That can't be good for you."
Holding on to the side of the car, Singh placed his gun in the passenger footwell and pulled himself up to his feet. "How do I look, now?"
"Like the walking dead."
His face was covered with blood, as was his tunic. His hair flowed down. He looked like a mortally wounded Hindu god.
"Let us see…" Singh took a step and turned to face the house. "Ah…yes…"
"Yes…" said Lawson, seeing his own predicament in Fallujah after a young boy wearing a suicide vest destroyed his life. "However, my friend, you had best get back down."
"And wait for the next grenade?"
"He has a point," said Ari. Yilmaz said nothing, but craned her head upwards…smiling.
"You death wish people give me the creeps," said Ben.
"Just the opposite," Singh answered, and staggered to the front of the car.
"Ari…" Lawson was looking at him intently.
"Yes?"
"That call Sanad made to Karen. Was it a warning or a threat? If it was a warning, we might stand a chance."
Ari summoned an image of Sanad's face. Was that sadness he saw? "It might have been a warning."
"That's good," said Lawson. "Got a percentage?"
"Mmmm…ten percent warning, ninety percent threat."
"That's bad." Lawson twisted around to see Singh. "But they're not shooting at him."
"And that is good."
"Maybe they don't like the idea of shooting a dead man."
"Perhaps they are afraid of him," Ari suggested.
"He scares the shit out of me," Ben shivered.
"Your decorous language has taken a hit," Ari told him.
As Singh began to walk down the sidewalk, Yilmaz jumped up and rushed to join him.
"Will they shoot a woman?" Ben whispered. Then he recalled what he had seen at the warehouse and smacked his head. Of course. If they were willing to torture women, shooting them would come naturally.
Halfway down the path, Singh looked as if he might fall. Yilmaz took his arm over her shoulders and they pushed forward.
Lawson's phone sputtered. He raised it and listened. "No," he answered. "Don't rush the place yet. Let's wait. Can you see through any of the windows? If someone reaches for a light switch, run like hell." He listened some more. "You're right, it won't do much good. Everyone, hug the bottom of the wall."
"What does he think he can do?" Ben asked when Singh banged slowly on the front door, looking for all the world like the Frankenstein monster at a castle gate.
"Chatting them up is better than blowing us up," said Ari. "I believe Yilmaz will do most of the talking. I suspect the only Arabic Singh knows is what he reserves for his beloved."
"You mean those two…" Lawson began in a speculative tone.
"Mere gossip," Ari shrugged.
The door opened. Singh and Yilmaz entered. As they went inside, Lawson murmured, "Notice how dark it is in there? Hallway light's off."
"So we can't see their silhouettes," Ben reasoned.
"Or they can't switch it on without blowing everything sky high." Lawson made some kind of grinding sound. "If we see the light, we'll all see the light at the end of the tunnel. It's true…I've seen it."
Ari grunted. Ben made a sound of awe.
The door closed.
"What do you think Yilmaz will say to them?"
"I have no clue," Ari confessed. "Reasoning with Sanad and his men is probably out of the question. They are murderers…and America still has the death penalty."
"Like Iraq," said Ben, who then bit his lip.
"Mmm-hmmm, interesting comparison." Lawson used his cane to ease back into a seated position. "My guess is Yilmaz will try to cut a deal. Tell them we'll hold our fire while they leave."
"Yilmaz?" Shaking his head doubtfully, Ari said, "She is more likely to spit in someone's eye and tell them she didn't care if we all died."
"You don't go through all that training for a gold medal only to become a nihilist," Lawson opined.
"Perhaps," said Ari. "But I'm afraid Sanad has another trick up his shirt sleeve. I see only two cars parked in the driveway."
"I…aw, shit, let's make it more complicated…"
Ari called Abu Jasim.
"I was just about to call you," Abu Jasim said before Ari could begin to speak. "There's a van just stopped around the turn. I don't think it's the flics."
"Do you see any movement?"
"Hard to tell…there's trees in the way. I can't say how many…no, two, at least. They're going around to the side. They probably sent someone out for groceries. Maybe they didn't take their guns."
"Maybe my head is about to explode," said Ari. "They have seen our caravan in front of the house. They will be calling—"
"Ahmad's working on it. He said he's…uh…'scanning'."
"Tell him to hurry. Sanad won't blow up the house if he thinks these men can ambush us and give him the chance to escape."
"Right…they might just ru
n away." Abu Jasim paused. "You're right, they're calling the house. Ahmad says…Ahmad says…"
"What does Ahmad say?" Ari demanded.
"Hold on, is what he says. They're talking Arabic."
"Ahmad knows Arabic."
"Not when it's spoken fast. He has spent too many years in the accursed American college."
"I gather we have visitors?" Lawson asked.
Ari nodded brusquely.
"Colonel?" said Abu Jasim.
"I'm still here." Where else would he be?
"You're right, someone inside told these guys to circle around through the woods and take the mercs from behind. Ahmad said it's not Sanad telling them what to do. Someone else inside is directing them."
Interesting, Ari thought.
"You want me to go after them?" Abu Jasim asked. "I've got some remarkably destructive weaponry in the back."
"Do you think you could take them on? How much have you had to drink? You don't even know how many—"
"I could take on an army," Abu Jasim boasted.
"That's what I was afraid of."
"I've got Ahmad here. Ahmad…put down that computer and grab a gun."
"No…if those in the house believe there is no hope, they will blow us all to multiple pieces. Do something to pretend you don't see those men in the van."
"But the dogs are all in a group now. If they scatter into the woods, it will be more difficult to kill them. And what if they start shooting the mercs in the back?"
"It will take them a while to work their way around. We need the time."
"I guess I'll take a whiz," said Abu Jasim in a tone that said a whiz was long past due.
There was a whop-whop-whop in the distance.
"That's a Huey!" Ben moaned.
"Looks like the police picked up some Army surplus," Lawson grumbled, surveying the road and trees. "No way they can land in here, at least. They just want to announce their presence."
"It seems apparent that Karen's people did not spread the word that we will be blowing to smither's eens."
"It's one word, Ari."
"I wondered what an 'een' was."
The Huey pilot came in slowly, low enough to stir up a cloud of dust from the road.
"Please, don't rappel," Ben prayed. "Please, no bullhorn."
Lawson's must have put his phone on vibrate. He lifted it to his one good ear and listened for a second. Then he pushed himself up and walked to the middle of the road. Waving his cane, he screamed, "RPG! RPG! R-fucking-PG!"
The Shelter for Buttered Women Page 40