And Cutler… did you leave me here to save yourself?
The sheer hell of the idea made her legs go weak. It was only then that she realized they were walking through the casino. She heard slots jangling everywhere, and the shouts of winners and losers. The yelling of tourists. The low rumble as a money cart rolled by.
She turned introspective again. It didn’t matter now, this new, horrible reality. If the man she had sacrificed her entire life to be with had just sacrificed her, then almost thirty years of living mattered for nothing.
Crouch? The old soldier was at her side. Had he planted the next clue? She couldn’t remember in that moment where they were headed next. Yet again, Cutler broke her down. She recalled Omar flinching as she feigned an attack, hoping to make him lose focus or make a mistake. The flinch had given Cutler such a small window of opportunity, a mere extra meter of space. The American had fallen himself, grabbing a side-bar, but that fall had opened up the escape route that little bit further.
It was then he darted for freedom, but somehow Terri had seen his entire body pause in mid-flight as hesitation set in; she had seen the eyes flinch in her direction but not quite make it all the way around; she had seen some instant decision to carry on. It passed in the blink of an eye, but it had been there.
Fundamental.
Set in Cutler’s psyche as firmly as the need to draw breath. The American had always looked after himself — even from the very beginning. Terri recalled her old quest, but now wondered if she’d been duped her entire life.
Pain wracked her body. Nothing physical. She tried to put it aside, tried to focus on the moment. Wasn’t this their best chance of escape? Who cared, right? Well… Crouch seemingly did.
Warning shouts burst from every direction.
Crouch saw the security guards coming even before Ricci did. As usual though, they shouted their cautions way before they should and gave Ricci all the warning he needed.
The banner-bearers, as Crouch thought of them, took a good hold of their burden, put their heads down, and ran for the exit. Ricci met the first guard that came up to him, grabbed the man’s wrist and wrenched his baton away. A quick flick and the guard’s face exploded with blood; the baton suddenly sheathed in the stuff. The second guard swung his own baton from a high vantage point. Ricci parried it and then swiped his own three times across the man’s ribs before he could take a breath. Bones broke, and the man collapsed.
Omar jabbed his box cutter at Terri’s throat and then beckoned Crouch. The one surviving merc backed him up. They picked up speed as the doors approached. Another guard hustled in from the right. Ricci barely broke stride as he relieved him of his Taser and sent him shuddering uncontrollably to the floor.
Crouch found the time to admire Ricci’s fighting prowess. Special Forces training was obvious, but it was something else too. Something even more advanced — an elite form of combat that only the best aspired to.
They burst out of the doors, dashing toward their vehicle. Crouch saw two black vans angled across the road a hundred meters to the right suddenly start to disgorge both men and women.
FBI agents.
It was looking good. He counted at least twelve, all armed. Surely that would be enough to take these bastards out.
Ricci saw it too, probably faster than Crouch. He sprinted on, passing his men carrying the banner, jabbing furiously at a remote that eventually triggered the tailgate release of a large black Range Rover. By the time he skidded around the back of the car, the trunk was wide open.
Crouch kept pace as Omar jabbed the box cutter at Terri, nicking her now for the third time. It was no accident, and Crouch saw how Omar would love to permanently injure her. It was written all over his face.
The banner-bearers staggered on, drawing close to the Range Rover. The FBI agents started to run, spreading out, shouting their cautions but unable to shoot for fear of hitting civilians.
Ricci had no such compunctions as he swung a wicked, black semi-automatic rifle that Crouch recognized to be a Dragunov SVD — a shortened variant with folding stock — out of the Range Rover’s rear compartment and toward the approaching agents.
Without any warning he opened fire.
Even Crouch flinched as the weapon started to make a thunderous deadly sound in the casino parking lot, bullets screaming through the warm morning air. Unprepared agents took shots to the chest, head and legs, sprawling in all directions as Ricci sprayed the area without restraint. Most dived to the floor or scrambled behind cars and walls and even hedges. Ricci didn’t let up once as he retreated around the side of the large vehicle, taking cover but maintaining the upper hand.
The banner was shoved through the tailgate, balanced across the rear seats, folded almost in half to make it fit. The men who’d been carrying it practically collapsed with exhaustion as they finished, but somehow managed to climb inside the car.
Omar forced Crouch into the back, squashing his face against the banner and making him fold his body so that it fitted. The other merc practically threw Terri in beside him.
“Get it started!” Ricci yelled.
Omar and his remaining mercenary now regarded the trunk, which was the only place left with some room. Crouch looked through the far door and saw Ricci firing the semi-auto with one hand as he pulled out a small handgun with the other. The front of the casino was littered with bodies, the wounded and the dead. The façade was pockmarked with bullets and smashed windows. The FBI vehicles were badly damaged.
Quickly, he threw the Dragunov onto the floor and raised the handgun. Crouch ducked. He heard the words: “You betrayed me. Brought the cops to my door. This is what I do to traitors.”
Two shots rang out. Crouch looked up in time to see Omar and his colleague shot through the head and falling backward.
Ricci jumped inside. “Now, go.”
CHAPTER THIRTY ONE
Alicia saw the doors that marked the casino’s exit right in front of her. At that moment they exploded, glass shattering toward her face. She dived to the right, rolling among slot machines, and felt Russo tumble right over the top of her.
“Damn it, Russo, for an asexual you sure like rolling on top of me.”
“I’m not fucking asexual.” Russo was on his knees. “Except when you’re around.”
Alicia leapt to her feet. “You got a girl then?”
“I got plenty.”
She grinned, but then couldn’t reply as her eyes took in the front of the casino and the awful scene outside. Ricci, it seemed, had been prepared for a violent escape. The agents that had just arrived had been decimated; for the most part wounded, but some were clearly dead. Alicia closed her eyes for just a moment, appalled at the violence and disregard for life.
“This Ricci… he has to be put down,” Russo growled.
“Yeah, and now he has Crouch… and Terri.” Alicia sighed.
“And the banner,” Russo said.
“Crap.”
Caitlyn and Austin came up to them. Alicia approached the front of the casino just in time to see the Range Rover disappearing out of the lot and across Las Vegas Boulevard. They were now presented with an abrupt choice.
Try to follow or search for the gold?
Her thoughts were echoed aloud by Caitlyn. Alicia remembered Crouch’s own words: Chase the gold. She told Caitlyn to get on to their FBI contact and smooth the way for them out of this mess, then looked around for Paul Cutler.