Before he could take a shot, someone fired a long burst. Bullets thumped against the wall, three feet away from him. Justin hit the floor. He sought cover behind the crates. He inched forward to the left, crawling on his elbows and feet. Reaching the aisle, he took a quick peek. Two men were running toward his position, their AKs at the ready. Justin fired at their feet. They fell, screaming like wounded dogs. Two more gunshots and their screaming ceased. Yuliya appeared at the end of the aisle.
Justin motioned at her. “Three or four men are hiding at the front. There are some rooms to the right,” he whispered when Yuliya was crouched next to him.
She gestured toward the back of the warehouse. “Anyone there?”
“One or two, but they have nowhere to go.” He wanted to add that Carrie and Nathan would take care of them, but he kept that thought to himself.
They crossed a couple of aisles, their boots barely making a noise. When they came to a clearing, Justin pointed to the left. Yuliya covered that area, while Justin moved into the hall. I hope Hamidi and Al-Khaiwani are holed up in there.
“Did you see Justin?” Carrie asked Nathan between gunshots.
“No, I didn’t. Where was he?”
“Right side. Saw him just as those grenades exploded.”
Bullets banged against the truck’s doors serving as their cover. Carrie slid lower to the ground, her body digging deeper in the sand. She reloaded, then fired her AK from behind the back tire.
“Was he alone?” Nathan asked.
“No. Someone was with him.”
She fired again. “Got him. The last one.”
She peeked over the side of the truck. “All clear.”
They ran toward the warehouse back entrance. When they were halfway across the fifty-yard clearing, the back entrance door burst open. A group of insurgents scurried outside. Carrie picked off the first two before they had a chance to raise their guns. The third one was able to fire a quick burst way off target. Nathan buried two bullets in the man’s chest and also shot a fourth man dead. The last man tossed a small object in the air just as Carrie squeezed off a round that cut the man to the ground.
“Grenade,” she shouted.
She sprang forward running toward the door. Nathan was one step behind her. They threw themselves inside the warehouse as they heard the blast. Shrapnel showered the outside walls. A few fragments went in through the open door. Carrie and Nathan were just beyond their reach.
“Nathan?” Carrie whispered.
He raised his head. “All’s good. You?”
“Unharmed. This way.”
Carrie got to her feet, backing against a row of wooden crates.
Chapter Eighteen
The hall made a sharp left turn. Justin stepped forward slowly, listening for voices and other noises. The warehouse was quiet. After the gun battle blasts, the silence gave him an eerie feeling. It was always silent before an ambush.
A single gunshot shattered the silence. Justin heard the noise at about the same time he felt the dull pain in the right side of his chest. A crunch and a blow, as if someone struck him with a large hammer. The bullet knocked him off his feet. His jaw snapped and he bit his tongue.
He lay on the concrete floor, frozen and disoriented for a long moment. He tried to breathe, but the blunt force impact had sucked the air out of his lungs. He coughed and spat out blood. Hearing footsteps, he dragged himself behind the wall, three feet away. Another gunshot, but the bullet missed, striking inches away from his left leg.
Justin groped for his AK, then remembered it had fallen out of his hands. He took his pistol out of its holster. His eyes dropped to the tear in his chest rig and the dent in the bulletproof vest. He was glad he was not been hit by an armor-piercing bullet, like the ones he was about the spray on his enemies.
He struggled back to his feet, then backed away, hiding behind the first row of crates. A man stepped out from around the corner. Justin shot him in the face. A second man running behind the first tripped over the dead body. Justin’s first shot hit the wall. His second nailed the man to the floor.
Justin took a deep breath, tasting blood at the back of his throat. He touched his chest and clenched his teeth. The pain burned around his breastbone. He wondered for a moment about a broken rib or a bruised lung. Erratic shots came from down the hall. Justin stepped forward, covering the hall from behind his gun sight. A few more shots, then the hollow click of an empty gun. Followed by cursing in Arabic. Two different voices. Two men.
After sidestepping around the dead bodies, Justin peeked around the corner. He moved fast, swinging his pistol as he took long, quick steps. He passed by the first few offices, the voices guiding him. Then he heard scrapping and clanging, like someone trying to pry open or break down a door. The rats are scrambling, but they’re not going anywhere.
After turning the last corner, Justin faced two men in white robes and headdresses about eight feet away from him. They were working furiously to break the glass of a small window in the wall, about six feet off the ground. Justin grinned. The first man was too large for the window, even if he could somehow be able to climb that high.
“Show me your hands and turn around. Slowly,” Justin called at them in Arabic.
They both froze.
“Turn around with your arms high above your heads,” Justin shouted louder.
He fired a round that shattered the window’s glass.
They got the message. The large man spun on his heels faster than what Justin had anticipated, considering his size. A pistol was still in his large pudgy hand. Justin’s eyes gazed at the man’s bulging face. He had red cheeks and a large forehead, covered by his headdress. Fear was clear in his eyes. He has to be Hamidi, the gun dealer.
“Drop it, Hamidi,” Justin said.
The man tossed the pistol by his feet.
The other man Justin had rightly pegged as Al-Khaiwani was unarmed. Justin noticed an AK was on the floor. Probably empty, otherwise it would be in his hands. Al-Khaiwani was thin, with sharp facial features. A square jaw line and a large nose. He had a three-inch-long, unkempt, black-and-gray beard. His hands were bony with long fingers. His small black eyes showed anger and hate.
“I’ll make this easy, Al-Khaiwani. Who is your man inside my agency?”
“May you die, you infidel dog,” Al-Khaiwani replied.
His voice was calm and emotionless. The man was not going to break without a lot of effort. And a lot of time. Justin did not have time. The helicopter crews were going to raid the camp and whisk away both men. He hated torture, but Al-Khaiwani was going to talk, one way or another. The threat of torture, a glimpse and maybe a foretaste might change his mind.
“I didn’t come here for a curse,” Justin said. He kept the tone of his voice calm and emotionless to show Al-Khaiwani his resolve. “Give me what I want and you can live.”
Al-Khaiwani spat in Justin’s direction. “Death as a martyr is a welcomed gift from Allah.”
Justin shook his head. “It’s not going to be death. And you’ll be no martyr. You’ll rot in jail, after long tortures in Egypt, Jordan, and Iraq.”
Al-Khaiwani flinched.
“The name. Give me the name.”
Al-Khaiwani shook his head.
“Justin, watch out,” a familiar voice called to him.
As he turned his head to his left, two gunshots rang. A man fell through the open door of an office. Two large wounds were visible in his chest. An AK slid to the ground, away from his hands.
Justin took a step back. His eyes were still on Al-Khaiwani. He kept his pistol trained on both men. “Carrie? What are you doing here?”