“The cars, head for the cars.” Lilburn yelled out.
They scrambled to their feet and powered off as fast as they could. Another rifle report merged with the crack of a bullet speeding past them. Still in open ground, the only consolation was the darkness. A third shot. The cars were easier to see in the indirect light. Both men pushed their legs forwards and swung their arms as best they could, trying to gain any scrap of extra speed that might be the difference between life and death. Instinctively, Lilburn had timed the intervals between each shot; either a bolt-action weapon or someone with a semi-auto taking calculated specific shots, either way he expected to hear, or feel, one more round before they reached cover. “Arrgh!” His colleague crashed to the ground, the bullet had gone low and taken out the muscle on his left calf. Close enough to the cover of the car nearest him, the adrenalin and momentum of his fall carried him to safety.
“How bad?”
“Lower leg.”
Lilburn knelt down, making sure he was safely behind the car. He saw the man gripping his leg and knew the pain he was in. Now, as the only one left uninjured, he needed to protect his companion. “That was a fucking ambush, they knew we were coming.” He took a quick look into the darkness and towards the hangar before ducking down again. No one followed. Lilburn reached into his pocket for his phone… it wasn’t there. Damn it.
The wounded man did his best to provide his own first-aid while Lilburn remained on guard. Ripping what he could of his clothing he used the pieces to bind what remained of his calf together trying to stem the blood flow. The pain was intense but the man was tough enough not to yell out. “Any ideas, boss? The words came out between clenched teeth.
“I was hoping you had,” Lilburn replied. “Fuck it, two good men wasted. Someone will pay for this.”
“How ’bout you start with the guy who shot me.”
“I would, if I knew where he was. We don’t have a lot of options. Right now we’re sitting targets and he knows exactly where we are. He’ll be moving around in the darkness, looking for a good shot. Listen, you’re going to have to be the bait for a while, flush the prick out so I can get a shot. You up to it?”
The man snorted. “Yep.”
“I’ll need your carbine.”
“Plug him right between the eyes.”
Lilburn disappeared into the blackness. With the slight hill behind him, down from the road, he kept to a semicircle. He finished counting to forty and sat down, the M4 carbine ready. The wounded agent dragged himself to where he could safely send off a couple of rounds in the general direction of the shooter. Easing his arm around one of the car tires, his hand gripping his own 9 mm handgun, he finished his first count… 43, 44, 45. In quick succession he pulled the trigger, aiming blindly into the darkness, then huddled up.
Lilburn didn’t have to wait long for the muzzle flash from the terrorist, who quickly responded with a couple of his own rounds in return, the bullets plowing into the car’s grille and tire. With his target’s position identified in the dark, he fired off a volley of rounds on semi-automatic, then hurriedly changed his own, now compromised, position. If the shooter was the man Lilburn thought he was, then there was no point in using the same tactic again, he wouldn’t be suckered twice.
The lights in the hangar went out, leaving faint starlight.
There were two choices. Take the offensive and seek out the terrorist; it was possible he had taken him out with his volley. Or he could use the cover of darkness to get his man to safety. He chose the latter.
Lilburn crept back to the cars, letting his comrade know he was advancing. ‘We’re bugging out. You want to come?”
“Thought you’d never ask. Do you think you got the guy?”
“It would be luck if I did. I’ll tell you in a couple of minutes.”
Dragging his painful leg, the agent shuffled back in the direction of the fence line. Once clear of the cars, Lilburn helped support the man. As silently as they could manage the two climbed the easy rise to the road. They’d made a painful fifteen yards when the hangar lights were turned on again.
“Keep going. That earth mound we used coming in, there, go to it.” Lilburn urged on the wounded man. The pair collapsed behind it. “Hey, you still got your phone, I’ve lost mine?”
“Here.” The agent handed Lilburn his mobile. “HQ was the last number I called.”
The call center at Albany transferred the call through to Director Hall to whom Lilburn tersely delivered a disturbing sitrep. Within minutes the nearest back-up was deployed, various commanders briefed, the drone aircraft given exact coordinates and medical staff organized, together with body-bags. The first deployment could be expected within fifteen minutes.
Lilburn handed the phone back. “If we can hang on for fifteen minutes we’ll have troops on the ground.” Looking around the mound he noticed the lights had again been flicked off. “Fuck! Here we go again.”
“What’s up, boss?”
“What would you do if you were those fuckers? Your position has been compromised. You’re holed-up in a hangar with hostiles outside, you’ve got hostages and you’ve got your holy mission to complete. Add to that you’re a cunning psychotic piece of shit who doesn’t mind killing people.”
“Well,” the agent gave a sudden hard inhale as pain surged through his leg. “Hell… if I were giving him advice I’d say go shoot yourself, but failing that I think I’d just fly out of there.”
“First one ain’t a bad idea, but I think he’d take the second one. You think he’ll be good to us and wait for our back-up to arrive?”
“We haven’t exactly been lucky tonight.”
“That’s what I thought. Don’t go running off anywhere, will you?”
The agent looked across to Lilburn. “What’s your plan?”
“I’ll tell you once I think of it.” Lilburn slid away into the darkness clutching the M4 carbine and the Sig Sauer on his hip, leaving the wounded agent lying on his back making a wish upon the stars.
Lilburn carefully made his way towards the hangar doors, not wanting to trip over any object hidden by the darkness. From inside the large iron building a helicopter could be heard winding up, the pitch rising higher and higher, the volume increasing. He tried to comprehend the helicopter pilot even contemplating flying out of the hangar, which wasn’t exactly the largest of buildings. The hangar doors must open wide enough for rotating blades, but it would be close — dangerously so. The rotors were turning and it seemed take-off was near. The nearer he came to the hangar, the faster he moved. The butt of the M4 Carbine’s stock was pulled into his shoulder, his view looking down the barrel. There had been no challenge — no bullets sprayed in his direction. He assumed there was only one reason for this; the two terrorists were in the helicopter. Reaching the side of one of the large doors he could feel a vortex of wind cascading out. The barrel of his weapon was an extension of his body and he thrust it into the cavernous space of the hangar. Immediately he was met with a stinging bath of dust, dirt and debris flung up from the spinning blades, together with a deafening roar. Lilburn flung an arm up to his face — his eyes were slits and the wind bit at his clothes. The whole situation was a potpourri of confusion and noise, then the helicopter’s powerful searchlight burst into a blinding dazzle. Matt Lilburn knew he had to react and fast.
“Get it out of here now!” Bomani sat next to the pilot, one hand gripping her collar and the other holding a knife.
Kate could feel the sharp sensation of the knife point in the crook of her neck. Not one to back down when the situation got tough, Kate Leggat was known to stand her ground and bombard any adversary with a concoction of fact, fiction and just plain old-fashioned stubbornness. This time was different. The two Arab-looking men armed with a rifle and now Nathan’s 12-gauge shotgun had the upper hand from the get-go. They made it crystal clear they weren’t playing games.