I began to ransack the room, going through the footlocker and checking the contents, trying not to disturb the scene. If the box wasn’t here, I was going to hit the main building next, and the last thing I wanted to do was raise an alarm in this ant’s nest. Clock was ticking. The shooter was bound to be back any minute. Nothing of interest so far. Closet next. Random gear and clothing had just been dumped in here. He must have known that this was temporary.
On the floor was a plain duffel bag. Unzipping it revealed a whole bunch of money. I was positive that some of the rubber-banded stacks had come from me. Bastard. But on top of the money was a small wooden box. Could it be? I picked it up. It felt exactly like the replica I had left to be mangled in Adar’s house fire.
YES! YES! YES!
“I’ve found it,” I whispered into the radio. The others, even Carl, actually cheered. Leaving the money, I stuffed the box into my vest. All that cash . . . It would just slow me down, though. The oldest, scariest part of me was really tempted to stay there until Nightcrawler came back, just so I could murder him on general principle, but it was time to go. “Prepare to extract. Reaper, how’s it look out there?”
“Compound looks clear right around you, but I can’t see under the overhangs.”
“Military vehicles? Lorenzo,” Carl’s voice sounded urgent. “There’s something weird going on down here.”
“What’ve you got?” Something moved in the corner of my vision. “Wait—”
Lights flashed inside my skull, and the world exploded in pain.
VALENTINE
My hand hurt. I hadn’t busted anybody in the head like that in a long time. The stranger in my room flopped to the floor like a sandbag. My mind raced as I tried to figure out what was happening. Who is this guy? Are the Zubarans coming after us?
I’d crossed over from Sarah’s room by hopping the balcony. I’d left my balcony door open, so the guy hadn’t noticed when I came in. He’d been huddled over by my closet, holding something in his hand. I was on top of the guy immediately. I didn’t give him time to breathe. I slammed my knee into his spine, putting all of my weight on it, while I checked him for weapons. I found some kind of fancy 1911 pistol, a boxy custom job with a wide-body frame, tucked in a holster on his right side. I had a hard time pulling the pistol out, since there was a long suppressor screwed on the end. My own gun was still in its holster, sitting on my bed across the room. I swore at myself for leaving the room unarmed. It was a stupid thing to do, given the circumstances.
I swiped off the safety of the stranger’s gun as I stood up, and kept it pointed at him. My eyes darted to the gun in my hand, and something clicked in my brain. I stepped around the splayed-out intruder and hit the light switch.
“You!” I snarled. “It’s you!” I couldn’t believe it. It was the guy from Hasa Market. Lorenzo, the girl had called him. “What the fuck are you doing here?” I said and kicked him in the ribs as hard as I could. He gasped in pain, and I kicked him again. He flopped over onto his back. “What did you think was gonna happen here, asshole?” I asked. “Huh? You got some balls, man, I’ll give you that.” I tried to kick him a third time. He was ready for it. He spun around on his back, feet moving so fast I couldn’t keep up. He kicked the pistol out of my hands. It flew across the room and slid under my bed.
Lorenzo tried to scramble to his feet, but I was on top of him. I grabbed his tan vest, hoisted him up, and slammed him against the cinder-block wall. He was still disoriented. I reached behind him and clamped onto his vest again. I was a lot taller than Lorenzo. I pulled his vest up from behind and down over his face. I leaned into him then, punching him in the head over and over again, hockey-brawl style.
I thought I heard Lorenzo say something, but I couldn’t understand him. Then the building was rocked by an explosion outside.
LORENZO
My brain must have really bounced off the inside of my skull, because I couldn’t remember how I’d ended up on the floor with a mouth full of blood. My earpiece was lying next to my head, and I could barely hear Carl screaming about something.
Someone was talking, angrily asking me questions. The kick that landed in my ribs was unbelievably hard. The second was even worse. It was that son of a bitch, Nightcrawler. There was a gun in his hand. My gun, damn it! He tried to kick me a third time, but I reacted and kicked my gun across the room. Strong hands grabbed me, jerking me to my feet and hurling me into the far wall. He pulled my vest over my head and was on me in a second, knuckles slamming into my face repeatedly.
I slid down, shaking my head, trying to focus, which is difficult when you’re getting punched. I couldn’t hear Carl, but he could still hear me through my throat mike. I needed a distraction. “Carl, hit it.”
A concussion shook the room as Carl radio-detonated the Semtex plastic explosive I had left in the Mitsubishi. Nightcrawler spun, surprised by the noise. I shoved myself upright as he turned back to me. I kicked him in the chest. Dust flew from my boot as he crashed back into the wall next to the bed. I moved in while he was off balance and threw a knee to his side. He grimaced but stayed up. I followed with an elbow to his face, but he blocked it with his forearm and then used his size advantage to shove me back with one big meat hook against my sternum.
The kid was bigger and stronger, but I was faster. He was using a form of Krav Maga, but he was rusty. He didn’t practice much, I could tell. I locked up on his arm, spun inside of it, and slugged him in the kidney, then put my foot on the inside of his knee and forced him down. I jerked up on his arm, trying to snap it at the elbow. He crashed into the shelf, snapping boards and sending things flying. He shouted incoherently as his other arm came around with something shiny and metallic and caught me on the side of the head. Thunk!
I must have gone out for a second. I was down, blood spewing from my mouth. The room spun as I refocused, again on the floor, and at the blood-stained Korth revolver that he’d just hit me with.
I rolled out of the way as his foot kicked through empty air. I was back up in a split second, trying to make distance until I could see straight. I was dizzy, but my blade appeared in my hand, like I had willed the Greco there with anger alone. His hand came out of his pocket, and a switchblade opened with an audible snik. Time slowed down as we focused on each other.
“Oh, it’s on now,” he said as he pointed the knife at me, chest heaving, gasping for breath.
I spat out a bunch of blood. “On like Donkey Kong, motherfucker.”
We charged.
VALENTINE
I had to finish this. The warning klaxon was screaming, and I could hear people shouting outside. Lorenzo had a hard gleam in his eye, and I knew he meant to kill me.
He lunged. I dodged to the right and tried to slash at him with the Infidel automatic knife in my left hand. His hand arced around and put a gash up my left cheek, barely missing my eye. It wasn’t deep, but Christ it was close. I slashed at his abdomen as he pulled away and managed to clip him.
Lorenzo only took a moment to recompose and came at me again. I could tell he was a better fighter than me. He fought like a wounded animal and was extremely fast. This guy was dangerous. But he was injured. I still had the advantage.
He slashed at my face. I leaned back and dodged it, but just barely. I tried to stab him in the abdomen. He moved to the right, avoiding the thrust. His right hand came back down, trying to cut open my left arm. I twisted to the left at the last second. He sliced upward, nicking my arm.