Back toward the side door now. The pounding turned to kicking. I kept moving, wanting to get some space between me and that frag. The side door was in view, the rear wall of the compound visible through the portal, still illuminated in the headlights. A shadow moved on the back porch: a man with a gun. They were coming. I flipped down the monocular, and the view for one eye turned a pixilated green.
“Adar!” one of the men on the back porch shouted. The front door cracked and splintered on its hinges.
“Hide-and-seek time.” I took a deep breath and mashed the initiator.
There was a bang as the house plunged into darkness. My world was now a super illuminated green. I raised the AR to my shoulder, realized that I had not turned down the Aimpoint for night vision use as the dot appeared blindingly fuzzy, cursed under my breath, turned the knob to dial it down, and moved my hand back to the grip. Behind me the front door crashed open.
Five.
A man in a suit and headdress moved through the rear entrance into my sight, blinking stupidly, pistol held before him like a talisman to ward off evil.
Four.
I flipped the selector to semi and pulled the trigger twice, the dot of the Aimpoint barely moving as it bounced across his torso. The suppressor was deadly silent, but each bullet still made a very audible chuff noise as it violated the speed of sound.
Three.
I moved forward, sidestepping, gun still at the ready, slicing the pie, more of the back porch swinging into view. The first man was falling, a second man was behind him, looking surprised in my pixilated world, lifting his Tokarev sideways, gangster style. The dot sight covered his face. Chuff.
Two.
There was movement behind me, the rest of Adar’s guests piling into the entryway, surprised by the darkness. A few random gunshots rang out as they attacked the shadows.
One.
The concussion of the grenade was sharp inside the structure. Even with a few walls between us I could feel the impact in my eyeballs. Gliding over the bodies of the men that I had just shot, I took the corner slowly, watching for movement. Somebody started screaming.
There were two figures standing in front of the fancy fountain, easy targets. The carbine met my shoulder, but I stopped. Only one of the targets was a man, the other was female. The man had a subgun in one hand, and a rope leading to the bound wrists of the young woman. Her head was hung down, hair covering her face. He was staring, slack jawed, at the smoking front door of Adar’s home and his dying and injured companions.
Having seen that poor girl upstairs, I just reacted. I flipped the selector to full auto. The man never knew what hit him as I stitched him from groin to neck in one burst. The bullets were tiny, but they were fast, and at this range they fragmented violently, ripping through flesh and leaving softball-sized exit wounds. He stumbled back, falling into the fountain with a crimson splash, jerking the rope and sending the girl sprawling. I dropped the mag and reloaded as I scanned for threats, trying to break the tunnel vision. Clear.
Instead of heading for the back wall, I sprinted toward the captive. She appeared to be in a state of shock, probably a young Filipina worker. I’m a killer, and a thief, and a con man, and a hired gun, but I was not a monster, and in Zubara, girls like this were treated like slaves or worse.
“Come with me,” I said in Arabic, helping the girl to her feet, then quickly switching to Tagalog. “Come with me now or these men will kill you.” She looked at me, stunned or bewildered, probably drugged and incoherent.
“Lorenzo, what’s happening?” Carl’s voice was tense.
“Pick me up at the front gate,” I replied tersely. “We need to go, lady.” I gestured with my gun in the direction to move. “Now!”
“You’re an American!” she shouted in English. “Oh, thank God!”
“Uh . . .” That was unexpected. “Yes! I’m here to rescue you . . . or something. Let’s go.”
The van barely slowed as I shoved the still-bound girl into the back and climbed in after her. The incendiary bomb detonated with a brilliant flash that crackled from every window. I slammed the door as Adar’s burning compound shrank in the distance.
VALENTINE
Fort Saradia National Historical Site
April 16
0400
Alone in my room, I sat on the floor, my back to the wall. I was still wearing my cammies. My body armor was lying on the floor next to me. The door to the balcony was open; a cool breeze drifted into the room.
On the floor next to me was Adar’s strange little box. I’d given it a half-hearted examination; it was some kind of puzzle box, made of wood, ornately carved. It looked very old. I tried for a minute to open it but quickly gave up.
I don’t know how long I’d been sitting there when I heard someone knocking on my door. I didn’t answer it. I didn’t want to talk to anyone. After a few moments, the knocking stopped, leaving me alone with my thoughts. Our trip back from Adar’s compound had been long, but I barely remembered it. We’d been debriefed by Gordon as soon as we’d returned to the compound. He, of course, had been overjoyed, especially at the intelligence we’d gathered. Tailor neglected to mention the fifty thousand dollars he’d stuffed into his backpack. I’d forgotten to turn over the puzzle box.
I couldn’t sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I could see that dead girl hanging from Adar’s ceiling. I wondered what her name had been, where she’d come from, how she’d ended up there. It reminded me so much of what happened to my mom, it hurt. My stomach was still twisted into knots, hours later.
I took another swig from the large plastic bottle in my hand. I’d managed to bum some booze from one of the other guys. I didn’t know what in the hell it was. It tasted terrible, but it was alcohol, and it was potent. It’d do. As I took another drink, my bathroom door suddenly opened. Sarah walked into my room.
“Hey,” I said, not looking up at her.
“Mike? Are you okay?” she asked, standing over me.
I raised my eyes up to hers. “Not really,” I said. I took another sip.
“What happened?” she asked, sitting on the floor next to me. She saw the bottle in my hand. “Are you drinking?”
“Yes, I am!” I said, loudly slurring my speech and saluting her with the bottle. Sarah grabbed it out of my hand. “Hey!” I protested, but she ignored me. She lifted it to her nose and made a face when she sniffed it.
“What is this stuff?”
“I was drinking that,” I said testily.
“I think you’ve had enough, Mike,” she said firmly.
“Just leave me alone, okay?” I snatched the bottle back from her.
“Mike, please, just tell me what happened. I’m here for you. Talk to me.”
“No, goddamn it, I don’t want to talk about it!” I snapped. “I just want some peace and quiet! You think all because you screwed me it gives you the right to march in here whenever the hell you want?”
Sarah huffed loudly and quickly stood up. “Look, I read the report, okay? I know what you found in there.”