Blood flowed freely from his chest. He started to say something, but died before he could get it out.
“Shit!” said Grimes. “We’re dead if we stay here.”
He chose a door and opened it, showering the room with bullets.
The room was deserted.
Grimes yelled at Henry.
“In here — fast!”
Henry was shuddering from adrenaline. Everything seemed to be in slow motion. Walters and Michaels pushed him forward.
Inside the room, Grimes slammed the door and switched on his radio.
“Tom! A.J.!” he snarled into the lip mike. “You hearing me?”
Weapons fire suddenly burst out all over the building. Its echoes seemed to come from everywhere at once.
“Shit!” said Grimes. “This sucks!”
They were in some kind of research lab. Machines and computer consoles as well as racks of equipment were all around. Much of the hardware had suffered from Grimes’s precautionary hail of bullets.
Walters had dragged Hoy’s body in. Grimes, taking the opportunity to reload his weapon, swore at him.
“That’s right — drag Dan around so the fucking blood trail will lead them right to us!”
“I…” began Walters.
Before he could say more, the door flew open. Suarez, Remo and two security guards hurled themselves in through it, guns blazing.
Grimes.
Walters.
Michaels.
All three went down in the space of a single heartbeat.
A bullet smashed into Henry’s thigh. He pulled Shep down behind him and then fell over in a heap next to the dog.
A moment later he was looking into the eyes of Rudolfo Suarez.
“You,” said Suarez. “I know you.”
Henry clutched his leg. Blood oozed between his fingers. He looked over at the bodies of Grimes and the other dead SEALs.
It was difficult to believe that Grimes, of all people, could be dead. Henry had always assumed the man was somehow utterly unkil able. He felt, to his astonishment, the first signs of grief for the SEAL. Behind all the insults there had been, these past few frantic days, something like the beginnings of a deep friendship.
When he looked back at Suarez the man was pointing an automatic weapon at his face.
“Who are you?” screamed Suarez.
Henry pretended he was in too much pain to answer.
Remo studied Henry’s face.
“I remember this guy. And I halfway remember the fucking dog. He’s the one from the ice, Rudy.”
Suarez gaped.
“That’s right. But you were in Santiago, too. With that red-haired bitch.”
Henry looked up at Remo and Suarez and smiled. He let go of his leg.
He was doomed, so he might as well be a pain in the ass. It was what he was best at.
“Har du en sigarette? ” he said. “Or haven’t you learned to speak Norwegian yet?”
“It is him,” said Suarez.
Remo lifted his gun but Suarez stopped him.
“Not yet. We can use him.”
Shep looked at Suarez and bared his teeth, but Henry patted him and gripped the leash tightly.
“Easy, Shep.”
Outside the Hacienda a group of US Marines and an elite corps of Chilean Special Forces waited nervously for a communication from the SEALs.
Hayes was there too; he kept glancing at his watch. It had been only fifteen minutes since the start of the incursion. According to plan, the SEALs weren’t due to break radio silence until they had arrested Suarez or needed help. It would be up to the general to decide the next action.
Hayes was confident Grimes would quickly neutralize the terrorists and bring about a swift end to the escapade, but his experience with terrorists taught him to take nothing for granted.
When he heard the garbled transmission from Grimes, he knew something had gone wrong.
And Grimes’s frantic call was punctuated by the pop- pop-popping of automatic-weapons fire from within the building.
Within seconds the general was talking to O’Boyle, the head of the Marines unit.
“Someone’s tipped off Suarez,” said O’Boyle.
“Or they just fucked up.”
“I heard Suarez is a slick bastard,” said the Marine.
“He’s got a rep for being a smartass. It’s gonna be a stand-up fight.”
“Not until I get more intel,” said Hayes. “Let’s not be Custer. We’ve lost our element of surprise.”
“But Suarez doesn’t know about us,” argued O’Boyle. “Now’s the time, sir. There could be SEALs that need getting to a hospital, and maybe the terrorists haven’t put it all together yet.”
O’Boyle’s ruddy Irish face was flushed with emotion. He was missing one eye, and wore a black eyepatch to cover the scar. But Hayes saw a man studying him with more concentration than any two eyes could muster.
The lieutenant was overstepping his boundaries for the sake of the men inside the Hacienda.
“What do you recommend, Lieutenant?”
A dark figure ran out of the building and towards the fence. One of the SEALs.
The “government workers” had stopped their charade and taken cover anywhere they could. Now armed with automatic weapons tossed to them by the SEALs, some lay sprawled on the lawn while others pressed against the building.
Close on the heels of the running SEAL came two of Suarez’s security men. As they raised their weapons they were chopped down by a scythe of bullets.
The SEAL sprinted the last few yards and ducked behind the agave bush. When he saw the Marines he smiled grateful y and fell to the ground, gasping for air.
“They’re — they’ve got some hellacious ammo!”
His eyes darted around until they found the general.
“They cut us up bad, sir. Christ — the bullets go through both sides of the vests. What the hell do they have in there?”
Hayes knelt down and looked at the man’s face.
“Listen to me. I need you to think back now. Tell me everything.”
“It’s the ammo, sir,” said the SEAL.
Hayes remembered the soldier as Ricky Peete, a member of Grimes’s squad who’d reminded him of some TV comedian.
“Tell me, Peete, who’s down? And did you get Suarez?”
Speaking in short, jerky phrases, the SEAL spat out what had happened. The Hacienda was bristling with electronics. It had been on high alert when the SEALs had made first contact with the security goons. “We were on ’em like flies. Then suddenly they sniffed us out. Walls didn’t stop those fucking bullets…”
He gulped.
“Sir.”
Hayes nodded and patted the man’s leg.
“Glad you made it, Peete. Don’t feel bad. You needed to get this to me. You did ten men’s jobs today, soldier. Now rest awhile and cool off.”
The general squeezed the man’s shoulder as he stood up. He looked at the Hacienda and said nothing for a moment. Then he yelled to the comms people to put in a call to the President via the Big E.
An aide approached. “Not to interrupt, sir…”
“Go ahead.”
“The biotech data shows three SEALs, er, still living, sir,” said the aide. “The rest are down, sir.”
Hayes cursed and shook his head. “Can you pinpoint the position of the remaining SEALs in the building?”
“Unless they get stripped of their bugs, sir,” said the aide, “that’s a roger.”
Despite the pain in his leg, Henry couldn’t help but admire the scenery through the huge picture window. If he was going to die in this room, at least he’d have a nice view to take with him.
Remo wrestled him into a chair and Suarez threw a napkin at him. “Try not to stain the furniture, Mr…?”
“Henry Scott Gibbs of the Antarctic. Who’s askin’?”