Behind him, Dante was on his feet, firing his submachine gun in the same direction as Liam. There was a scream, then silence. Liam glanced though the opening he was using as a firing port, but saw nothing but another body lying on the ground near the cars. “Fifty percent complete.”
“Able, Bravo!” Danielle’s voice was strident with urgency. “Two cargo trucks just turned onto your street from the northwest. They’re heading your way fast!”
“Doesn’t sound good,” Liam muttered.
“Two Tangos running for the gate,” Danielle continued. “The trucks are slowing and they’re opening the gates!”
“Definitely not good. Five, see the fourth Tango?”
“Yeah,” Dante replied, changing his Colt’s magazine for a full one. “Behind that white BMW.”
“Cover me. I’m going to move to that dumpster over there.” Liam motioned to a dark blue garbage bin thirty yards to the right and front of their position. “I can cover the loading dock from there.”
“Right.”
Liam got to his feet and crouched. “Ready… Now!” He sprinted for the dumpster as Dante fired a long burst at the BMW. The front tires exploded and the car sagged as the passenger’s side suddenly acquired a dozen 5.56mm bullet holes.
Dante stopped short of firing his entire magazine, and waited, his weapon poised. As he expected, the 49 quickly popped up from behind the car, his rifle seeking a target. Dante pulled the Commando’s trigger and the guard went down, blood splattering the BMW’s hood as he fell onto it.
“More Tangos!” Danielle said. “Confirm ten to fifteen new tangos are getting out of the trucks!”
Liam dove for cover behind the dumpster. He wrinkled his nose at the smell as he slipped a CS round into his grenade launcher. “Bravo to Able,” he said, switching magazines. “We’re about to have company!”
Tanner hit the stairs at a full run, taking the steps three at a time. Naomi and Stephen followed a few steps behind him, covering their flank and rear. Around them, the shouts of guards were joined by yelling from the awakened prisoners.
“Copy, Bravo,” Tanner said. “Keep them busy.”
Half way up, two gunmen appeared at the top of the stairs. Tanner’s finger tightened on the M-203’s trigger. A score of 24-grain metal pellets ripped into the 49s, shredding them. One fell backwards, but the other dropped his rifle and fell forward, sliding down the stairs face-first. He came to a stop half a dozen steps above Tanner, forcing the OUTCAST leader to shift to his right, closer to the wall. A hail of bullets went through the space where he had been, missing him by inches.
Tanner reached the top of the stairs. He brought the Colt up to his shoulder and swung it in a sixty degree arc, looking for targets. Naomi cleared the stairs two seconds behind him and dropped to one knee, covering another sixty degree arc. Stephen was next, spinning to cover the stairs and the other sixty degrees that wasn’t warehouse wall.
The second floor was free of cages and divided into two halves. To the right was a storage area with large blue plastic barrels lined up on shelves and more shelving behind them holding other supplies. To the left were a series of large plastic sheets attached to steel frames anchored to the floor, making it difficult to see more than a few shadows. A freight elevator was set into the far wall.
They moved toward the supplies. As they reached the first set of shelves, a Triad gunman stepped into view, finger tightening on his shotgun trigger. Tanner was quicker, stitching the shotgunner with a four-bullet burst to the upper chest and throat. As the 49 fell, the shotgun roared, sending its load of shot over the team’s heads.
“Crap.” Naomi read the barrel’s content labels. “Phenylacetone… N-methylformamide… sodium hydroxide… Definite meth material and enough to make a sea of it.”
“The lab must be in there.” Tanner pointed to the plastic wall. He loaded another buckshot round into the 203’s breech.
“Let’s go.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Liam pulled back as bullets pinged off the side of the dumpster. He took time to switch magazines, then picked up his radio. “Watchdog, we’re a bit pressed here!”
“Striker is three minutes out,” Danielle returned.
Liam leaned out long enough to fire a cloud of bursts at the Triad gunners, then pulled back. “We don’t have three minutes!”
The dozen Triad gunners were stymied in their first attempt to enter the warehouse through the loading dock, and Liam saw the dead 49s on and around the dock to prove it. He and Dante had each fired a CS round at the Black Dao gunners, but a light wind dissipated the tear gas faster than Liam had hoped for. Each side had stalemated the other, but there were too many 49s and more than one way to get into the warehouse.
As if she could read his mind, Danielle said, “Watchdog to Able and Bravo. I have half a dozen Tangos heading for the front of the warehouse.”
Liam muttered a curse, then said, “Watchdog, drop some flash-bangs and CS on them! That should slow them up!”
“Copy,” Danielle replied. “Repositioning Cobra.”
Liam leaned out from the dumpster just enough to see a 49 step into the open. He fired a short burst with his Commando and smiled grimly when he saw the gunman drop his rifle, spin and fall.
“Bravo to Able. You guys playing games in there?”
Tanner grinned mirthlessly. The walls muffled the gun battle outside, but they still could hear it. The three moved down a corridor created by the lab’s plastic walls and the warehouse walls. Tanner was at point, Naomi behind him and Stephen trailing, guarding their rear.
“Yeah, we’re playing a game called ‘find the chemist.’ Status?”
“Tangos are blocked for the moment, but there’s a lot of them. Some are headed for the front door. Watchdog’s playing strong safety with them.”
Tanner heard a couple of loud bangs over the radio. “Flash-bangs and CS canisters away,” Danielle said. “It’s slowing them, but not for long.”
“Copy,” Tanner said. “If—”
A thin Asian in a cheap suit, carrying a Daewoo K2 assault rifle, leaned into view around a support pillar twenty feet ahead of Tanner. “Down!” Tanner snapped, dropping to one knee and triggering the 203. Another blast of lethal lead slammed into the support pillar and 49 behind it, leaving scars in the pillar’s concrete and the gunman’s left arm and right hand a bloody mess. He screamed and pulled back behind the pillar.
Tanner ran forward, covering the distance in five strides. Just as he reached the pillar, the gangster stepped out, his face a mix of pain and fury. Before he could bring his rifle up, the OUTCAST leader slammed into him with his shoulder, knocking the smaller man off his feet. As the combatant hit the ground, Tanner’s foot lashed out and the steel-toe boot caught the Triad gunner under the chin. The 49’s head snapped back, striking the floor with enough force to make a loud cracking sound. The thug went limp.
“Able to Bravo: Status?”
“We’ve got their attention for now, but we’re burning ammo quickly. Don’t dawdle.”
“Copy.” Tanner looked ahead and saw a freezer curtain, thick strips of plastic used in commercial walk-in freezers and refrigerators to keep cold in. Tanner dropped his Colt so it dangled from his sling and pulled his pistol.
“Naomi: with me. Stephen, stay here and cover our backs. If there’s trouble, call out.”
“Right.”
Naomi pulled her own pistol and followed Tanner through the curtain. The first room was contained a few bare steel tables, the type used in commercial kitchens. In one corner were stacked a couple of blue barrels like the ones in the storage area. Another set of freezer curtains led to the next room. Naomi glided to the barrels and took the top off of one. “Empty,” she mouthed to Tanner.