“McMasters did,” replied Jackson, hoping that the man would fall for the lie.
“How come I wasn’t told?”
Jackson shrugged his shoulders. “I dunno. Wanna get out of my way so I can get to work?”
The man took a step back, stopped and looked suspiciously over at Jackson for a couple of seconds. “I don’t know you. Just who the hell are you?”
A couple of nearby guards heard the man getting angry. They turned their heads and looked over at the forklift.
Jackson knew that his cover was blown. He swiftly turned the machine in McMasters’ direction, jammed his rifle onto the accelerator, and jumped.
“Stop him!” yelled the man, pointing at Jackson.
“Christ, Nate’s in trouble!” said Mitchell. In a flash, he threw open the door to the stairs and sprinted for a nearby parked BMW. Like a baseball player stealing home base, he slid to a halt behind the car. He pulled his rifle from his back, laid his weapons’ sights on a couple of guards running towards Jackson, and cut them down.
Behind him, Grace and Midori dashed out of the stairwell and dropped down behind a long metal crate. They brought their FN F2000 assault rifles to their shoulders, took aim at the nearest group of guards, and opened fire.
Gunfire erupted through the hangar.
“Damn it all to hell,” said Cardinal, wishing that he had a weapon with him. He edged to the open door and peered outside just as Grace opened fire on a man trying to sneak his way around a parked black Mercedes SUV.
Sam moved up behind him. “Gord, we need to get our hands on some weapons and fast if we’re going to get into this fight.”
“Easier said than done,” replied Cardinal as he quickly pulled his head back inside. A split second later, bullets tore into the concrete wall, showering everyone still on the stairs with plaster and dust.
Yuri turned around, looked sorrowfully at Jen, and shook his head.
The meaning was clear; the way out was blocked.
“We can’t get out that way,” said Jen to Owen as she listened to the sound of automatic gunfire reverberating down the stairwell. Jen turned around, grabbed him by the hand, and pulled him with her down the stairs. As soon as they reached the next floor, Jen opened the door and poked her head out. Thankfully, no one was there.
“Come on,” she said.
“Where are we going?” asked Owen fearfully.
“We’ve got to find another way out of here.”
With that, she started to run down the long hallway, praying that it came out somewhere where they could get out of the installation before time ran out and they died along with everyone else.
With a yell on Jackson’s lips, he smashed headlong into the man who had blown his cover, sending him flying to the ground. “Sorry,” said Jackson as he gave the man a swift kick in the ribs for good measure.
Suddenly, the world around him exploded with gunfire as his compatriots traded shots with McMasters’ men. Just in front of him, a couple of guards dropped to the floor in a bloody heap. Without stopping, Jackson ran past the dead men, scooping up one of the men’s rifles. He dove behind a parked truck just as a blast of automatic fire tore into the side of the military-style, ten-ton truck.
Jackson rolled over on his side behind one of the truck’s massive tires and checked that the assault rifle in his hands was loaded before poking his head out from behind the tire. He could see men scurrying to and fro around the convoy of armored vehicles. He cursed when he couldn’t see McMasters anywhere. Jackson was about to take aim at a couple of guards firing at Mitchell when he saw his forklift collide into the row of boxes they had been using for cover, sending them scurrying out of the way. With a satisfied grin on his face, he fired at one of the men, sending him dropping to the ground, clutching his shoulder in pain.
Mitchell knew that his weapon’s magazine only held thirty rounds. After firing off a couple of shots at a guard using an oil drum for cover, he wasn’t sure how many bullets he had left. He ducked down and ejected the magazine. Mitchell swore when he saw that he had less than half of his rounds remaining. It was nowhere near enough against the ever-growing number of guards rushing from all over the base to join in the fight. He glanced over his shoulder at Grace and Midori. His heart jumped when he saw Midori stagger back and fall to the ground with a bloody hole shot into her chest.
“Sam, we need you,” called out Mitchell.
A second later, both Sam and Cardinal ran out of the door straight to Grace’s side. Cardinal picked up Midori’s weapon and joined the fight while Sam quickly checked out her wound. She bit her lip when she saw that one of the bullets had gone straight through Midori’s left lung, collapsing it, while the other had probably grazed her heart.
With a crimson-red froth of blood on her lips, Midori struggled to breathe. Sam knew there was nothing she could do for her. She slid her hand behind Midori’s head and gently laid her down on the cold concrete floor. With a shudder that ran down her body, Midori died.
Grace turned her head for a moment and saw the lifeless eyes of her friend staring up at her. With a scream on her lips, she turned her anger and rage on the men who had killed Midori. Moving from man to man, she fired her rifle, trying to exact bloody revenge.
Mitchell felt for Grace; however, he knew that they would soon be overrun if they didn’t do something fast. He looked over at Jackson and whistled loudly to get his friend’s attention.
Jackson heard the whistle and turned to see Mitchell waving at him.
“What?” mouthed Jackson, knowing he would never be heard over the din of battle.
“Get us a ride,” replied Mitchell.
Jackson didn’t catch what Mitchell was trying to say to him and shrugged his shoulders in response. A second later, Mitchell mimed driving a car’s steering wheel. Jackson nodded his understanding, turned around and looked for a suitable ride.
“Yeah, that’ll do,” Jackson said to himself when he spotted an up-armored Hummer sitting no more than fifty meters away. Suddenly, bullets struck the ground near Jackson’s head, forcing him to duck back behind cover. With his heart racing in his chest, he realized that it was going to be near impossible to run fifty meters to the Hummer without being shot.
44
Houston stood, staring intently, as the deadly struggle for survival played out on the screen on his wall. How Mitchell had escaped was unimportant; that he and all his accomplices were killed was. A voice came through his Motorola. Houston turned around, picked it up, and answered it.
It was McMasters. “Sir, we need to leave.”
“What about Mitchell and his people?”
“Screw them. The guards have them pinned where they are. They’ll all die when the UAV strike hits.”
Houston hesitated for a moment. “All right then, load up your men and head to the south exit. I’ll take a cart and meet you there in three minutes.”
“Very good, sir,” replied McMasters, ending the call.
Houston picked up his Stetson from his desk and set it on his head. With a grin, he looked up at the screen. He could clearly see Mitchell trading fire with some of his men. “See you in hell, Mitchell,” said Houston as he switched off the screen and walked out of his office, never to return.
“Slow down,” said Owen to Jen in between breaths. Perspiration covered his face. He may have been a slender man, but he wasn’t half as fit as Jen was.
“We’ve got minutes to live,” said Jen, sternly. “Keep up. You can rest when we’re out of here.”
Suddenly, a door in front of them opened and a broad-shouldered man stepped out. Jen saw that he was a guard with his weapon slung over his shoulder. Before he could react, Jen launched herself straight at him.